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mypoisonedvine · 9 months

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𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 || dark!jonathan crane x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || since you're the only one of his coworkers at arkham who doesn't seem to be intimidated by his intelligence, jonathan decides it's time he finds out what does scare you... and how he can embody it. unfortunately for you, turning into your greatest nightmare doesn't prove very difficult for him.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 5.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || EXTREME AND EXPLICIT NONCON (18+ only and please proceed with caution), drugging and kidnapping, paralysis, traumatized reader, forced orgasms/overstimulation, degradation, humiliation, choking, slapping, unprotected sex/breeding, misogyny, jonathan is very much in character which means he is incredibly evil and has incel vibes (I know y'all are not about to get mad at me for writing a villain being a villain and not uwu babifying him...)

When you interrupted and corrected your colleague, Dr. Crane, about the correct combination of pharmaceuticals for a certain schizophrenic patient in the asylum who happened to have diabetes, you thought nothing of it. After all, the whole point of staff meetings was to discuss and debate these things, and you weren’t about to let him damn-near poison a patient by giving him something that would interfere with his insulin. You weren’t trying to be snarky about it, but you did sort of make a joke about how dangerous his suggestion was— and you didn’t notice the way Jonathan’s nostrils flared and jaw tightened when some others chuckled at what you said.

When you received an email from your therapist’s office informing you that there was evidence of a break-in in her building, but that the police were unable to officially determine if confidential client files were compromised, you thought nothing of it. It was a big complex, these things happen, and you knew from being a clinician yourself how tricky the laws could be surrounding that stuff: she had to email you, legally, if there was any chance your file could’ve been accessed, and that didn’t mean you had any reason to fear your private therapy session notes had been read. Besides, who would want to read about you and your boring life, diving into your mundane hopes and fears and daily stresses?

And when Crane came into the office with tea for you, you thought nothing of it. Sure, you seemed surprised when he popped into your office with cups in hand— you asked him why he had two cups of tea, assuming they were both for himself, and he laughed. Just that was out of character, he wasn’t much of a chucklehead or anything. “Green tea, right? With lime and honey?” he asked, setting one cup down for you. You were still taken aback, but you had to admit defeat.

“Yeah,” you said, taking the cup as he sat down across the desk from you. “Yeah, that’s my order— I didn’t know you drank tea.”

“Sometimes,” he informed you, hoping his poker face was holding up as he watched you take a sip. He couldn’t help but stare at your lips wrapping around the little hole in the lid, the print of berry-red your lipstick left behind. His heart was racing already, more than he expected.

When you finished the first sip, you smiled at him and let out a small, nervous laugh. “Thank you,” you finally said. So, yes, even though you clearly noticed this was slightly odd behavior, you thought nothing of drinking the tea. That was one thing he hated about you: the thoughtlessness. You didn’t seem to second-guess yourself much, if anything you were a little on the cocky side. He found it so irritating— that confidence. Sure, you were smart and you deserved to take yourself somewhat seriously, but the way you walked around this place— the way you ignored him so easily, or spoke over him if you wanted to, or ignored his suggestions when he gave them… you were a bitch, basically. You clearly thought you were better than him— better than everybody else— for no reason at all. Just because you were pretty and had a good job you thought you could get away with anything, surely; pretty girls always think that way.

He made casual conversation with you as you sipped the tea, asking questions he already knew the answer to, hoping to catch you in a lie. For the most part, your stories matched up with what he’d learned from that file. But, you left out the gory details— you left out the best parts, really.

You mentioned where you went to medical school and that you transferred mid-way through due to ‘stress’, but you didn’t elaborate on what really happened to you. You mentioned having your own therapist— something you said passionately that every client-facing mental health professional should have— but left out what you were actually being treated for, not to mention the PTSD diagnosis.

He had to hide his smirk behind the paper cup every time you seemed to lose your train of thought�� it wasn’t like you, so focused and determined all the time. No, it was the drugs finally kicking in. You went for bigger gulps of tea each time your eyes looked heavier, hoping the caffeine would work— but the trace caffeine in your green tea was nothing compared to what he’d added.

You tried to warn him that you were suddenly not feel up to par— that he needed to leave, and you might try to wake yourself up— but he just sat and waited. He watched you try to get up, and lose your balance. He watched you stumble, trip, and ultimately fall onto the floor limply. He watched your eyes flutter shut and the final ounce of energy to fight it fade; he quietly took a final sip of his tea.

You woke up on the floor. You could barely feel it beneath you, but you knew it was the floor— it was cold, and hard. And you were looking up at the dark ceiling, at the fan spinning at the lowest speed; so you were definitely on the floor.

Jonathan was standing above you, not too far off, flipping through papers. You couldn’t move— no matter how hard you fought to, you couldn’t. You barely managed to turn your head, but it felt more like it rolled to the side on its own. You tried to yell for Dr. Crane’s attention, for help, for him to explain what happened to you, but even your mouth couldn’t move. The best you could do was breathe harder— actually, you were pretty sure your body was trying to hyperventilate, but you were too incapacitated to even have a proper panic attack.

He heard you, though; he looked away from the papers and grinned down at you. “Comfortable down there?”

You started to put together a few things. One, that the last thing you remembered was being in your office, and now you were in your apartment. Two, that those papers were photoscans of chart notes— obviously you couldn’t make out the words from here, but the format gave away that it must have to do with a patient.

And three, that Crane was neither surprised that you were paralyzed on the floor, nor interested in helping you.

He half-rolled the papers in one hand and playfully hit the other hand’s palm with them. “These have been quite interesting… revealing, to say the least,” he informed you, like it was a compliment— something you should be proud to hear. “You’re quite the enigma, Doc!”

He sat down beside you on the floor, leaning on his hand first to find his balance with a little sigh; he seemed amused, actually, and your heart began to race.

As he started to read aloud from the page in front of him, you felt nauseous. He was reading patient data, describing a client who was receiving individual counseling— or that’s what the CPT code indicated, at least. As he listed the client’s demographic data— age, race, gender, height, weight— it became eerily obvious what he was doing. You refused to believe it until he went on: “Client was recommended to Dr. Min Zhang for individual therapy concerning PTSD following sexual trauma.”

Your therapist. This was a file he’d copied, which belonged to your therapist. And it was obvious whose file it was.

As you tried with all your might to scream, Jonathan flipped a few pages ahead.

“Session fourteen, eleventh of June,” he continued. “Client expressed frustration with an increased recurrence of nightmares and flashbacks to her assault. Up until now, she has struggled to explain what triggers her anxiety without having to actually elaborate on the circumstances of the event.”

He stopped, but you weren’t exactly relieved. In fact, you were horrified. He had a little grin on his face when he looked at you, but you could finally see the rage in his eyes. Suddenly, you realized how long it had been there. You had sort of picked up on it before, the resentment he had towards you— and it didn’t take a Freudian expert to figure out that he was threatened by you, especially as a man. He didn’t respond well to feeling upstaged and he clearly had an issue with women. Maybe not that issue— he was good-looking and well-off, he didn’t need to have any issues with women if he didn’t want to— but an issue nonetheless.

“Now,” he added, smiling wider than you’d ever seen him smile before, “client states she is ready to describe the incident in full detail.”

He set the papers aside for a second, leaning over you and almost looking… giddy, really.

“I won’t read you the rest, I’ve already pretty much memorized what goes on from there. It was fascinating— seeing how what happened that night connected to the fears you still have today… the nightmares. You said that you still feel sick at the smell of alcohol, you still don’t like to wear pinstripe skirts, and even just the wrong few words can make you feel like you’re right back there where it happened— on the floor of your apartment.”

All you could do was look up at him, and you felt your eyes get hot as they welled with tears.

“Not this apartment, obviously— the one by your old school,” Jonathan sighed, “but this will have to do. And the smell of alcohol, well, I wouldn’t want to let anything cloud my experience— but I dabbed a little gin on my wrists, what do you think?”

He held his hand up by your face, caressing your cheek for a second, and you imagined yourself pulling away— turning your head and shrugging his touch off of you with a grimace. But nothing happened, of course, and you were entirely helpless as the acidic stench of liquor became apparent. You couldn’t give your typical outward reaction of a frown, but inside, you felt just the same as always: your stomach twisted, your heart pounded, your head swirled.

“Smell is such a… primal trigger of memory, isn’t it?” he mused, watching your face reverently. “I can see it in your eyes, it’s affecting you even more than I expected. You act so fearless at work— but I knew you must have been overcompensating. God, you’re terrified— I would say you’re paralyzed, but, well… it would be too literal, I think.”

You knew that Crane studied fear and phobias, even trauma occasionally, as a personal interest within the field. It was normal to have a favorite subtopic, and to conduct related research on it— but obviously, this was far from normal, this was absolutely deranged. You knew that part of this was vengeance, in his own mind at least, but you didn't feel like you'd done anything actually wrong to him. And the rest of it, well, it seemed like some twisted experiment, but if you were able to speak you would've tried to remind him that this 'research' wasn't going to get him published or advance his career— but of course, that wasn't what he wanted. He just wanted to humiliate you.

“I was worried I didn’t have enough to work with, you know,” he added. “I knew I couldn’t get you to where it happened, if I could even figure it out since you never filed that police report… and the skirt, well, I considered it. It sounded pretty exciting to dress you up like the night it happened— what I would give to know everything you were wearing that night, but I don’t have a ton to work with. Obviously, you don’t own any pinstripe skirts anymore, so I would’ve had to buy one… and I wasn’t quite ready for the looks I’d get shopping at Macy’s, so…”

Carefully, he reached up to take off his glasses, folding them and setting them down on your coffee table.

“You know how detail-oriented I am— I mean, I went to all this, didn’t I?” He continued, reaching down and brushing his fingers for a moment over your leg. It was so instinctive to pull away that it took you a moment to realize you hadn’t… because of course, you couldn’t. “But it’s impossible to recreate it all perfectly. Clearly, I don’t need to— if only you could see it, Doc, you look… you look so weak. Pathetic.”

Since the only thing you could do was look around, you tried to look away— to not give him the satisfaction of seeing the terror in your eyes. He grabbed your face and turned it until you looked up at him.

“Did you think you’d be able to face your greatest fear? Perhaps with a bit more dignity?” he mused. He looked different without the glasses on; and, ironically, you felt like he could see you even better now.

It was obvious that he enjoyed lording complete power over you, but a quick glance down to his suit trousers made it clear just how much he enjoyed it. You quickly darted your gaze away, but it was too late; he started to climb on top of you, staring at your face uncomfortably close, and worked on opening his belt and fly.

“Fear rules us all, doesn’t it? Everything you did, it was guided by your fear that it would— well, why paraphrase? Let me find exactly how you put it…”

He picked up the papers again quickly, licking his thumb and flipping around until he found the right entry.

“Yes,” he said, “here it is: client states she lives in almost constant fear that it will happen again.”

So that's what this was: his disturbed take on exposure therapy.

As he tossed the copied charts away for the last time and reached up under your skirt, he leaned down and whispered in your ear— and you couldn’t even flinch from the harsh sounds of his words. “It took you over fifty sessions to admit it,” he recalled, “to tell her the whole truth. Not just what he did to you… what you did.”

With a small growl, he yanked your panties down your legs and rubbed your thighs with far too much aggression, such that you expected bruises from his hands— just like the ones you’d had before.

“You said he made you do it,” he continued, “you couldn’t help it, right? But you said nothing’s ever felt like that— that you’d never had such a powerful orgasm.”

You would’ve vomited, except that that, too, requires your muscles to not be paralyzed. Rolling your skirt up and spreading your legs, he positioned himself right between them, rubbing his cock's leaking head around your hole.

“Your greatest fear isn’t really that it’ll happen again, is it?” Jonathan taunted. “You’re afraid someone’s going to find out how much you liked it.”

With that, he punched his hips forward and speared you on his cock.

It had been years since you'd had anything inside you, even your own fingers. You couldn't even remember if being penetrated hurt like this during your assault, and you would've sworn before that you remembered every detail perfectly. But this was so real, not a memory or a nightmare. You couldn't cry out from the sting.

"God, it's tight," he groaned, "I bet you weren't this tight when it happened— you'd been whoring around, hadn't you? Letting all kinds of guys use you… just ran into the wrong one and got your drink spiked. But now…"

He hissed through his teeth, tightening his grip on your hip.

"Now it's all mine, isn't it?"

Inside, you were screaming and kicking and pleading for mercy. You imagined you would be angry and violent, beat him to death with your heel or something, but you wondered if you'd be forced to bargain with him— apologize for whatever you did to upset him, promise you wouldn't tell a soul about this as long as he left you alone. But either way, it didn't matter… on the outside, you were useless, laying there and letting him use you.

"What made you come so much before? Did he have a big cock, is that it?” he asked with a snarl. “Did he know exactly how to touch you? Or was it just that you’d been craving it, needed it really rough to get off properly? Is that why you came while he raped you?”

It was a biological response, you told yourself like you had over and over, I couldn't help it, it wasn't my fault, it was a biological response— it wasn't my fault, I didn't like it, it was a biological response.

“I think I know what it is,” he mused, looking down at you with heavy eyes and almost purring as he watched your limp form bounce on the floor. “I think you wanted to be put in your place. You act so liberated, so empowered— but you’re a creature of instinct, like anything else. You need someone to remind you how weak you are, I know, fuck, I know you do…”

He fucked you just a bit faster, grunting and tightening his fist on the floor by your head.

“You haven’t been able to have an orgasm at all, since then,” he stated— almost making it like a question, with the way he said it, but he obviously already knew it was true. He sounded shockingly sympathetic— not even pitying, not condescending, for once. “I’m sure for a while you didn’t even try, afraid it would remind you— but that’s the thing, you can’t finish unless you’re reminded.”

You almost surprised yourself when you heard a whine come from your throat; he smiled proudly.

"It's wearing off, I think," he noticed. "I only gave you a small dose. Can you move at all? Can you beg me to stop?"

You opened your mouth to try to say everything you'd wanted to since you awoke, but all that came out was a moan. You hated yourself for that, and he laughed happily.

"You don't want me to stop," he decided. "Feels too good?"

I fucking hate you, you wanted to scream, you sick son of a bitch, I fucking hate you—

"You didn't say it outright, but he must have said something to you— during, maybe after," Jonathan theorized. "You didn't say what it was, but you told your therapist about having a vivid flashback after being accosted by a delusional homeless man on the street. He called you a bitch, seemingly for no reason… is that what your rapist said to you? Did he say you were a stuck-up little bitch?"

As burning hot tears striped your temples, you curled your fingers over and over— maybe you could move your arms if you really tried…

"He was fucking right about you. You think you're so much fucking better than everyone else," he growled. "You think you're so fucking smart, and special. But you're no fucking different, you're nothing—"

You whined and reached up, weakly trying to push him off of you, but all you could do was limply grasp at his shoulders.

"Nothing but a stupid—" he grunted the word as he slammed himself into you— "fucking—" he did it again— "bitch."

"No!" you finally heard yourself sob, clutching a weak fistful of his white shirt, but he grabbed your hands and shoved them back down to the floor.

“God,” he choked, holding your wrists tightly until you whined, “it’s so much better when you can fight— fuck, it’s so much better. Keep struggling if you want, Doc, you’re still too weak for me…”

Your legs moved a little, but they felt heavy. Sensation was only just beginning to return to them, like pins and needles, and it stung; you winced as you managed to squirm a bit beneath him.

"That's it," he praised, "this is probably just how you did it before. Too drunk and too desperate for cock to really do much, but trying so hard to look like you hate it— I understand, you don't want anyone to know that you need this. They'd never look at you the same again: the smart, accomplished psychiatrist who likes getting treated like fuckmeat. What would they think of you if they knew?"

"No…" you said again, too weak and traumatized to say much else— but it wasn't what he said that made you say no, it was the pulse of pleasure inside your cunt. He must have felt it, and if he didn't, he surely felt the next; yes, he did, because he smiled down at you excitedly.

"It's happening, isn't it? You're gonna come."

He held on tight to one of your legs, gripping your thigh and staring uncomfortably into your eyes as he kept going— faster and rougher with each thrust. You choked on your throat, trying to stop any part of this, but the pleasure was undeniable; it still hurt, yes, and you still felt so angry and sick and numb, but something familiar and desperate was tightening in your gut. It’d been so long since anyone touched you… you’d forgotten how natural it could feel, even when it was so horrible.

"I read it in your file, but I still couldn't really believe it,” he laughed quietly, “I couldn't believe you came over and over while being raped— but here you are, wow, look at you… you’re so beautiful when you’re scared.”

A long, heavy sigh fell from your lips; your eyes got heavier, and your whole body seemed to relax— in a way totally different from the medication-induced paralysis.

He cooed at you, seeming oddly proud, and you were oddly compliant as he picked you up and pulled you into his lap.

Tears streamed across your cheeks as he held you close, one hand around your back while the other moved your hips against his. “There you go— come for me, I wanna feel it— another one, baby, for me…”

It wasn’t much longer before another one came— from what you remembered, it was a lot like the first time, this terribly wonderful way your body protected itself from the trauma by immersing you in pleasure. Of course, Jonathan helped you along by rubbing your clit with his thumb, excited to watch you surrender to ecstasy even when you begged him to just stop and leave you alone.

Of course, your protests were less and less believable as more of your strength and mobility returned— you could’ve tried harder to get away, but instead you found your hips rocking with his, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. No, you didn’t want this— you never wanted this— but you found the way he spoke to you impossibly comforting even while it was still deeply upsetting. “Tell me about the nightmares, darling,” he whispered— some impossible mix of pleading and ordering.

“A-almost every night,” you whimpered. “I… I got used to it, but I used to… I used to wake up and think I was still…”

"They felt so real, hm?" he presumed, and you nodded. “It’s real now… you don’t have to be afraid of the dreams anymore, it’s all real— I’m right here.”

You couldn’t tell if he was trying to scare or comfort you; he pet your hair, clinging to you tightly, kissing your face and neck along the lines of the tears soaking your skin.

You felt his grin against your cheek when another wavering moan echoed in your chest, and he laid you back on the floor to hover over you again. “Was that your third one, already?” he noticed. “This is so much easier than I thought… you needed this so badly, you poor girl.”

A quick wave of panic settled over you when his hand wrapped around your neck. “W-wait,” you pleaded instantly, as if you really feared he would just strangle you to death right then and there. Your hands, still weak and tingly, reached up to his arm, and you felt his cock throb inside you— of course that was what he wanted, to see you react in fear again. So many other emotions were at play right now, even some you didn’t know existed (like whatever the word would be for longing for the worst thing that’s ever happened to you, or feeling like the only person you can trust is the person hurting you the most), but fear was still going to rule it all as long as he had any say.

"How many times did you come before?" he demanded to know, nostrils flaring as he fucked you harder. "Tell me how many times you came when he raped you."

"I— I don't—" you stammered.

"Say it," he ordered.

"I— I don't know!" you yelped, whimpers falling to silence as he tightened his grip on your neck.

"You don't fucking know?" he snarled at you, watching you fight for air. You clawed at his shirt, his wrist, tried to pry his fingers away, but he just sneered as he stared at your numbing face. "You don't know how many times you creamed on your rapist's cock? Bullshit."

"I—" you gasped when he let go of your throat, "I lost count…"

He went from livid to ecstatic in a second, laughing proudly and dipping down to kiss your neck passionately. "Good girl," he mumbled against your skin, fucking you even faster. "That's what you need to do for me now— come for me until you lose count."

“I— I can’t,” you choked, grabbing at his shoulders as he seemed to overwhelm you just by pressing his weight down on top of you. “I’m sorry— you… you proved your point, I— I just need a break—”

Even though the drug he’d injected you with was wearing off, you realized you were just as limp and helpless as before… after all, some of the most powerful chemicals come inside the body. You didn’t even fight it when he put his hand over your mouth, spitting out a quiet but hateful shut up and continuing with his quick and forceful thrusts into you.

He kept you conscious and lucid by occasionally hitting or choking you, talking to you, once or twice even ordering you to kiss him. Like you mean it, he’d said, slapping you as punishment for doing it wrong. Truth be told, you hadn’t kissed anyone in so long that you’d really been trying your best the first time. Sometimes he told you to beg him for more— or to beg him to get off of you— and yet he would usually punish you for speaking at all. He was completely unpredictable, and you figured that was part of the plan: take away any shred of control you might try to get by making it impossible to follow his rules. Keep you confused and crying, keep you fearful, keep you obedient.

But, he did seem to enjoy when you could only just choke out a broken please. He laughed at you, pinching your sore clit in response until you sobbed and tried to jerk your hips away. “‘Please’ what, honey? You mean, ‘please keep fucking me, Doctor Crane, you’ll make me come again?’” he taunted. “Something like that?”

“Please… please,” you swallowed around your whines, “please just… finish, and go…”

“Oh,” he purred, “you want me to come?”

You’d specifically not phrased it that way, but, yes, that was what you were asking for. You weren’t sure what else he wanted from you now, it felt like he’d drained you of everything.

“You can just say that, baby— you wanna make me come?” he grinned, moving in closer for a kiss, but you turned your head away. He grabbed your jaw again and stared at you with an angry glare. “This isn’t about me. This is what you wanted. This is what you fucking wanted!”

As he screamed in your face, you sobbed and tried to look away again, but he hit you hard on the face and covered your mouth before the cry of agony could come out.

“This is what you wanted, right?” he insisted again, forcing your head to nod with his clammy, iron-tight grip. “Uh huh— and you wanna make me come, don’t you? You understand now that’s all you’re good for.”

As sick as it was, you felt yourself fall into another orgasm when he said that; your eyes rolled back a bit, and for a moment you felt even hotter between your legs.

“I think, if you beg me to come, maybe I will,” he offered— bargaining with you, probably another way to trick you into clamoring for some control only to yank it away. Unfortunately, you were in no position to turn down a deal.

“Please,” you blurted out the second he released your mouth from under his hand; when you blinked the tears from your eyes, you saw him clearly again and realized how completely different he looked from the arrogant-but-generally-unassuming man you knew from work. His hair was fallen beside his face, and he was close enough that the ends were tickling your forehead. His eyes were bloodshot, crazed, and dark. His lips, always full and plush but usually in a tight frown or neutral look of condescending boredom, were curled around the teeth he bared at you. He looked animalistic, for a man typically so measured. Only he could do something so animalistic in a way that required such intellect, foresight, and contemplation— using his superhuman skills to treat you in a subhuman manner. You realized that you were really seeing him for the first time— the person you’d known before was the mask. This was something horribly freeing for him; and you were having a much easier time analyzing and thinking about him to distract from how sickly freeing this experience was becoming for you. “Please, Jonathan—”

“Doctor Crane,” he corrected. Apparently this wasn’t enough to put you on a first name basis…

“Doctor Crane,” you repeated, “please… come. I want… I want you to come.”

“Hmm,” he considered, and you worried he’d decide he was unimpressed with your effort and hurt you again— but, he did maybe the only thing worse. “Okay,” he agreed, “if it’s so important to you.”

Just when you shut your eyes tight and hoped you could just get through this— just hold on for a few more minutes at most and then this would be over and done with— he whispered in your ear that he needed you to keep your eyes open if he was going to finish.

Though, when you obeyed, he purred at you and let his own eyes flutter shut for just a moment. For once, he actually seemed affected by all this physically and not just psychosexually. “I think I’ll come inside, like he did before,” Crane decided with a groan when he opened his eyes, biting his lip for a moment as he stared down at you. “I didn’t see any birth control in your listed medications on chart… I guess we’ll find out if you have a fear of getting pregnant.”

"Jonathan— don't," you whimpered. "Please, don't do that—"

"Shh," he soothed, petting the top of your head and laying his weight over you. "Shh, it's alright. I think you need to be filled with come… I think that might be the one thing that’ll get you to settle down, now just hold still.”

“I— please… please…” you began to beg again, but your words faded away as another wave of sensation washed over you— they started to blend together, like before, and you realized you were doing what he’d asked: you were losing count.

“Good girl,” he praised under his breath, “like that— fuck, I’m close. Fuck!”

He held onto you tight— one hand on your thigh and the other on your neck as his thrusts sped to a desperately, impossibly fast pace. You moaned— or cried, or yelled, or something— as he pushed just a little too deep and your toes curled in your heels.

“Uh huh,” he encouraged, “just one more while I come inside you— I think you can manage that, just one more good squeeze on my cock— oh, fuck, that’s it, yes, just like that…”

You stopped being able to understand what he was saying, but you heard the wavering groan that came a few moments later when his movements suddenly stopped. He gasped and kept himself as far inside you as possible; you shuddered, blinking fresh tears out of your eyes, and felt paralyzed in an entirely new way as you laid under him, staring up at your ceiling, seeing how far the sun had set since it began— actually, it had started to rain, making it even more impossible to tell how much time had really passed. Eventually, though, he took his head out from the crook of your neck and propped himself up enough to look down at you.

Reaching to your coffee table, he fumbled his hand around until he found his glasses, and shakily put them back on. “Well,” he grinned, still panting but seeming to be mostly back to himself (whoever that was). “I never thought I’d meet someone who loves fear as much as I do.”

#jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #cillian murphy x reader #jonathan crane smut #cillian murphy smut #IM SO SORRY TO THIS MAN #not to crane he's garbage

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rafesslxt · 3 months

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Love Potion ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ | Mattheo Riddle

summary: y/n thought she would smell something different while making Amortentia

warning: enemyxlover vibes, cursing, mattheo blushing for a second

note: shorter than usual but got this idea and had to write ( obviously there are other imagines like this so no not a new original idea i mean )

Together with my friends Harry, Ron and Hermione I walked to out next class potions. This year Professor Slughorn was teaching us and I really enjoyed what we learned so far.

Today we shared class with slytherin. Everyone got in and sat down, waiting for Professor to start.

" Good evening everyone, today you are going to learn how to make a love potion. The strongest to be exact. It is called Amortentia."

All the girl started giggling but I was distracted by a strong scent, something like mens cologne.

" Who can tell me something about it? " Professor Slughorn asked. Hermione‘s hand shot up into the air. " Yes, Miss Granger."

" Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in the world. It is distinctive for its mother-of-pearl sheen, and steam rises from the potion in spirals. Also Amortentia smells different to each person, according to what -"

" Yes yes yes Miss Granger, 10 points for gryffindor. And the rest of the students should figure the last point out by themselves, right?" Hermione nodded and looked at the example in front of her.

" All the ingredients are on your tables, you can either partner up or do the potion on your own. You have time till 10 minuten before the class ends. Have fun!" He clapped into his hands and everybody started.

Ron and Harry decided to do the potion on their own while Hermione and I decided to team up. It went really well until my nose was filled with this strong scent again. I looked around and the only person walking behind me was Riddle. I rolled my eyes at the thought of having his cologne in my nose.

" What is it with you? You seem so tense since we started class." Hermione asked while stirring the potion. " I have Riddles fucking strong cologne in my nose. This guy needs to start using less of it."

She knew about my hate towards him and everything he does. But I didn‘t started it, he did and I was never one to back down. So we tried to get on each other‘s nerves on every opportunity.

"Oops." i heard and felt a shoulder bumping into my side, almost knocking the potion over. I turned my back and saw Mattheo. " Wow, really mature. But what did I expect from you huh?" i snickered and turned back.

As everyone got ready, Professor Slughorn walked around the class and looked at eachs Amortentia.

" Very good ladys. May I take this for an example?" Hermione nodded proudly and we watched him putting it on the table in front of all of us.

" You all did a great job. Now I want you all to take a deep breath trough your nose and smell the potion in front of you." Everyone did as he said but again I couldn‘t smell anything but that stupid cologne.

"Y/n, why don‘t you tell me what you smell?" Professor Slughorn asked you smiling, pointing at the potion you and Hermione made. " I would love to professor, but I can only smell Mr. Riddle‘s cologne cause he apparently doesn‘t know when to stop spraying."

I gave Mattheo a dirty look but got confused really fast due to his confused look. What? No barking back?

" I don‘t wear any today, I rushed out of my common room cause I overslept." My eyebrows drew together, I didn‘t really understand why I would smell his cologne all class.

" Maybe If you take a step closer to the potion you can concentrate on the single ingredient you smell." Professor Slughorn suggested.

I did as he said and took a deep breath in again. " Um, I smell Sandlwood, bergamot and something like the deep ocean.. sea salt maybe."

I was in some kind of trance while smelling it. It was lovely, i felt so light and some goosebumbs formed on my body.

I looked up seeing Hermionie smiling. " What?" I whsipered. " Miss Granger, could you tell us the last fact for the Amortentia ?" Mr. Slughorn asked her.

" Amortentia smells different to each person, according to what attracts them." Attracts them? No no no..

I look at Mattheo, who‘s already smiling from head to toe. " Very good Miss Granger, now have a good day! And remember: Amortentia is a very dangerous potion! You should never underestimate it!"

We packed our stuff and left the class. " So what was that all about y/n? Smelling Mattheo? I mean do you really have a crush on that doucheba-" Ron startet but got interrupted shorty after " Yeah y/n, you have a little crush huh?“ Mattheo swung his arm around me, taking me away from my friends.

"What the fuck are you doing?" We rounded a corner and he stopped. " No playing around anymore little princess. Was that supposed to be a joke ?" I hope so too. " Because I smelled your fucking perfume the whole time too!"

" You - You did what?" I almost whispered, my hand flying onto my mouth. " I smelled you the whole time. Vanilla and something like strawberry.. fuck I wanted to devour you so bad." He came closer, pressing me against a wall, his chest against mine. "Tell me you don‘t feel the same, tell me I can go fuck myself and tell me to get my hands off of you."

I couldn‘t. He was right, I wanted to tell him to fuck off and to not touch me, but I simply couldn‘t. " Y/n.." he whsipered my name, coming closer with his face. Then it hit me, it has to be a joke.

I started laughing which he just answered with a confused look. " It is a joke right? You try to fuck with my head because I said I smelled you while smelling the potion. I smelled your cologne not you. Somebody else could wear it too."

" I‘m not joking y/n." " Prove it."

And from one second to another, my whole life changed. He took my face in his hands and pressed his lips again mine. Hard at first but the kiss got softer and passionate. I slowly kissed him back, putting my hands on his chest. He let my face go and put his hands on my hips, squeezing them a little bit.

Out of breath I broke the kiss, his lips red and swollen, smirking. "So you don‘t hate me huh?" I grinned. "Oh shut up." He smiled back at me and kissed me again.

—

hope you had fun reading 🫶🏻

Masterlist

xoxo sarah

#mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott masterlist #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott oneshot #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott smut #theodore nott imagine #slytherin imagine #slytherin smut #slytherin boys #harry potter imagine #harry potter masterlist

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nunalastor · 1 month

Note

Since Alastor hardly ever sleeps, he doesn't have an actual bed in the hotel.

The key word here is "hardly," meaning he DOES sleep, just not as often as the other Hazbin residents would. Anyways, imagine this:

One day, Alastor decides that it is time for his Weekly Nap™, but all of the usual places where he sleeps just don't feel right for some reason. The corner of his room? Too cold. The nearby chairs? Too stiff. His radio tower? He's not vibing with it!

For once, he finds himself wanting to rest in an actual bed, but he doesn't have one.

You know who does, though? Lucifer.

That night, then, Lucifer is all cuddled up and comfy in his bed fit for a king. Snug as a bug in a rug, if you will. He turns over on his side, and somehow, someway, Alastor is there and suddenly facing him.

Cue the "What the hell are you doing?" bit from Lucifer, before he eventually settles down and reluctantly lets Alastor share the bed with him.

"It'll only be for one night," he tells himself, as he actively constructs a pillow barrier between them.

Nevertheless, the two wake up tangled in each other's arms, leading to more bickering that rouses everybody from their rooms. And, in the end, Alastor is the first to walk out, completely shameless as he straightens his bow tie and gives everyone a jovial "Good morning! :]" as he passes them by.

Fast forward a couple weeks, and Alastor has made it a habit of invading Lucifer's bed whenever he inevitably gets tired. The first couple of times play out much in the same way as the first night, but the two unexpectedly get used to each other over time. So much so, that Alastor doesn't even have to bother sneaking in, anymore; Lucifer just lets him walk right in after him.

The pillow barrier? No longer a thing, which lets Alastor cuddle right up to Lucifer as he pleases. Lucifer always obliges and wraps an arm around him.

Meanwhile, they're both utterly in denial; Alastor has fully convinced himself that Lucifer is the one who initiated the cuddling in the first place [Wrong!], and Lucifer blames his willingness to indulge in the radio demon's touch-starved behavior on account of his loneliness and separation from Lilith [Sorta true ✓].

👀

#hazbin hotel #alastor #radioapple #lucifer morningstar #appleradio #radio apple #apple radio #nunalastor asks #headcanon

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jasonswhitetuftofhair · 2 months

Text

“Come at me, Baby”

Characters/Pairings : Jason Todd (Red Hood) x female!reader.

Synopsis : Jason and Reader spar and after training things get steamy filthy.

Content Warnings : SMUT. Slow burn. Poor writing. Lots of plot. Training/Sparring (reader learns combat). Curse words. Pet names. Overstimulation. Multiple orgasms. Protected sex. Size kink (barely noticeable). Oral (fem rec.). Fingering. Dry humping. Use of object as toy (Jason uses a muscle massage gun on you). Vaginal intercourse. Light bondage (Jason ties your hands w/ resistance bands). Reader insert (sorry). Aftercare.

Fandom : DC, Batman.

Word Count : 5202

Author’s Notes : First fic I’ve written. Like ever. Also, this is a repost; I originally posted this for the first time in October 23’ but I deleted it in December 23’ due to insecurity.

This week had been tiring. Multiple meetings, a lab breakout scare, a few late night patrols all on top of studying the material you’d been given had started to add up. All you wanted was to retire for the night, go to your room and take a nice, relaxing, long, hot bath. Gorge yourself with junk food and put your show on, and then sleep like the dead. But no, tonight called for an evening training session with your training instructor.

Jason. Jason Todd. Before you had entered the gym, you weren't sure if you would be up to train tonight. But watching him enter the double doors with his hot-as-hell all black tactical pants, skin tight athletic t-shirt and combat boot ensemble quickly made you reconsider. As if it was hard.

Ever since Bruce had finally gotten Jason to accept his proposal of conducting training sessions with everybody, you’ve been feeling like a sitting duck. You had been trying to hide your feelings from the older vigilante for a while now. A while as in since you first arrived at the manor. Nearly eight months had you been stumbling around whenever he was near, barely making eye contact and feeling like an idiot because of him. And you had been succeeding, too! Barely, but still. He didn't know anything and now with your new arrangement, how could he not pick up on the vibes you were sending out? It was only a matter of time before your feelings were compromised and you were left heartbroken and feeling like a fool, your friendship with him long gone.

It wasn't so bad, though. You had always been good at adapting and Jason wasn't necessarily bad on the eyes. It was kind of fun, too. His little dry humored remarks, shared inside jokes and just…him, made him good company. After all, he was your friend. You haven't known him long, but it still felt like you’ve known him forever. But that was the problem. Your friendship with him was too much of a treasure to have it be risked just because of a little crush. You’d rather be plagued by the overwhelming melancholy of your predicament than not have him at all. If the only way you could allow yourself to indulge in the feel of his hands on your body was when he was training you in combat, then that was something you were okay with settling for.

“Earth to Y/N. Um hellooooo, you there?” Jason’s equally teasing and concerned words pulled you from your trance you hadn't even realized you’d fallen into.

Your embarrassment quickly appeared on your face and didn't go unnoticed by him. “Yes! Sorry, I’m here.” Having been snapped out of your thoughts, you noticed that Jason had you held against him mid-air. You threw a punch at him, but he of course dodged it so you did what you first thought next. You tried to kick him in his side but he quickly grabbed your ankle and gently but strongly twisted it so that your body changed direction. Before you could lose balance and fall he grabbed your other thigh and caught your body against his, holding you to him. You didn't react at all, though, and his initial thought was that he crossed a line he didn't know of and did something to upset you. He called your name and you didn't answer the first time so he paused the lesson and brought you back to him.

He was a little worried, honestly. He knew you to be like this, often catching you staring off into space and likely daydreaming or stuck in deep thought. It was your expression, though. The mild sorrow, a little bit of adoration shining in those pretty eyes he loved so much, too.

“You sure? We can take a break if you need it,” he offers, gently smiling at you, “is everything okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?” he asks worriedly. Gazing into his eyes, your heart almost swells up. He looks so genuine, like it would hurt him if he hurt you and you let yourself pretend it's for other reasons. “Yes, I’m fine, promise. Just have a headache s’all.” It's enough to relax him just the slightest but he doesn't believe you. Your body language is just not convincing enough. He finally puts you down and lets his eyes skim all over you. He tells himself it's to check for signs of discontent or injury, but he knows he can't lie to himself. Youre just too fucking beautiful. He shakes himself out of it before the blood rushes south and gets back to the lesson.

“So. You really need to get out of the habit of kicking. It can't be your first instinct, sweetheart. You're exposing an entire limb to the enemy and you're not skilled enough yet to counter whatever it is they plan on doing. I know it's hard, but you need to really start implementing your upper body strength,” he explains to you, occasionally letting his fingers linger on your skin when showing you what the enemy could potentially do to you. You truly appreciate how gentle and accommodating he is when it comes to teaching you. You’ve seen him train with the others and sometimes his harsh tone is enough to make you jump even when his words are directed to someone else. He’s been so patient with you and the thought of him going out of his way to train your aversion-to-fighting self makes your heart flutter. You nod along with him, letting him know you haven't gone off to La La Land again.

“Alright. Come at me, honey,” he orders while positioning himself in the default defense stance. Legs strong, but ready to move. Arms by his side ready to catch and balance. Core strong and taut, chest puffed. Eyes on you, just as he likes it. He finds it adorable how clueless your little expression is. Eyes wandering all over the place, arms trying to find a good way to support yourself and legs waddling to their correct position. Like a baby deer learning how to walk. He hears your little words of encouragement to yourself and watches your eyes, watching the gears turn in your brain. While his focus is stuck on your pretty face, he doesn't notice your left hand curling behind you while you spin yourself around, pressing your back to his front. He grunts and catches your right hand before it can land around his bicep. You quickly move your feet backward and jump behind him, putting all your strength into kicking his back hamstring, but he’s already several steps ahead of you. He turns around before your foot can land and grabs your ankle, destabilizing your legs and grabbing your wrists, holding them tight in his right hand.

This of course leads his mind to other things, things that would involve this very position. You curl your leg around his stretched leg and twist your body around, landing you on top of him. Your legs straddling his abdomen and palms resting on his waist. He doesn't mind at all, though and senses a pause in your movement. He notices your tired expression, your flushed face and neck, the sweat on your hairline, neck and brow. You jump, as if just now realizing the position you had him in. You move to sit next to him and he moves into a sitting position, no longer back to floor. You flash him a cheeky grin, happy with yourself for winning this time.

“Did I do good?” you ask him excitedly and he chuckles, your pretty little smile having caused his heart to skip a beat. ‘Did I do good?’. That phrase would be on repeat in his brain for a little while, he could tell. The way you seeked his approval caused his groin to stir and he stood up, quick to distract himself.

“You did. I’m proud, that was much better. We’re gonna focus on your upper torso, now, okay?” He guides you to stand and places his hands on either sides of your shoulders, guiding you to stand in front of him. “I'm gonna throw at you, and you're going to block them.” He playfully wiggles his fist in front of you and you grab onto it giggling. Oh how he adores that sound. He sneakily aims and his fist appears next to your collarbone, you move your body out of the way. He does it again, this time it comes next to your left shoulder. You grab his wrist with both hands and block it. He doesn't miss the way you needed both hands to wrap around his wrist. He moves again, fist to the right of your face. Your eyes widen and he shushes you and you relax. You both know he wouldn't make a move to successfully cause you harm.

This goes on and on for what seems like forever. Your stamina has dwindled down a while ago and he can tell how tired you are. He thinks about cutting training early, but for his own selfish reasons he decides against it. He doesn't want your time together to end. Still, you're barely putting in any effort and you're certainly not trying to hide it from your instructor. His eyes haven't left you since the session began and he was very pleased with all the intel he’s received. Your short, panted breaths. The way your cheeks and neck flushed with that pretty shade of pink that suited you so well. Your wide eyes, how they seemed to sparkle under the annoyingly bright lights of the gym. How they seemed to water whenever he stared into them for too long. Your wobbling lip whenever you got a little too into it. How you went out of your way to put both of your hands on him, regardless of if it was beneficial or not. The way you didn't even move out of the way of his punches anymore. You just watched the muscles of his arms flex and wished they were around you instead.

“You gotta put in some more effort for me, princess. I know you can do it,” he tells you, cooing at the way you whine at him, silently wishing he would end training early. He chuckles. “C’mon, block em’, sweetheart.” You roll your eyes and try to muster up whatever strength left in your exhausted body. Your hands meet his and successfully block a hit. He doesn't forget how you rolled your eyes, though. What he wouldn't do to have you bent over his lap for that. He finishes with the punches and leads you to the equipment.

He stands you in front of the power rack looking thing, gripping your waist and holding you up, waiting for you to grab onto the handles on top. “Chin-ups. Fifteen of em’,” he tells you and you groan. He knows you hate chin ups. “Tsk, tsk. C’mon, princess. Don't make it twenty. These help with your shoulder and bicep strength. Use an underhand grip, palms facing you.” You sigh and get into position, starting what he told you to do. You made sure to be as dramatic as possible, though; you were too tired to keep the brat in you at bay. Jason, on the other hand, doesnt try to hide the way he is blatantly staring at your ass, thighs and waist. He burns the image in his mind and moves closer to you, holding onto your waist to make you feel secure.

You huff and sigh out, hoping he’ll give into you. Throughout the entirety of the session, his hands have been on you. His breath has been on your neck. The feel of his body on yours. Him in your proximity. It was frustrating. Having him so close, but far away. Little did you know he felt the same. His hands move to rub encouraging circles into your hips and you whimper out loud, to your embarrassment. He doesn't even try to hide his smirk, though. Once the exercises are done, he holds onto you, purposefully moving his big hands to rest on your ass, bringing you down. You’re done with his teasing and turn around, pressing your palms flat to his chest and keeping him at bay. You signal with your eyes that you’re not in the mood for the teasing and he coos, holding your face between his two hands. “Is there something you want, baby?” you whine and cry out for him trying to hide your face into his chest but he only lifts your chin back up so he can see you. “Come on, sweetheart, if you want something you have to ask for it.” “hmph! I want you to stop teasing me, Jason!” He smiles wickedly and lets you go. “Training is over,” he states simply and you sigh contentedly, walking to the locker room.

Before you can open it, though, Jason’s hand wraps around your wrist and you turn to him. “You didn't actually think I was done with you, did you?” he asks but doesn't wait for an answer. He opens the door to the locker room and guides you into it before locking the door. In an instant you're pressed against the door, cold wood on your back, and Jason’s mouth on yours. It's not much of a fight for dominance, his tongue having beat yours instantly. It feels heavenly. Not just the feel of his tongue in your mouth, tasting yours, but finally all this pent up tension leaving your body. You sigh into the kiss, Jason’s hand comes up behind your neck to grab the hair at the base and you mewl against him.

You were losing oxygen and his kisses traveled from your lips, to your chin, to your jaw, the sweet spot on your neck. His big hands wrapped tightly around your waist and the feel of his open-mouthed kisses on your neck has your jaw slack and breathing uneven. He smiles at the way you look like a puppy with your open mouth and panting, practically drooling.

“This okay, sweetheart?”

You were practically soaking through your panties by now and the tenderness of his words and low pitch of his voice certainly wasn't helping. You nod a yes and throw your head back at the feel of his harsh sucking on your neck and collarbone. He growls and spanks your bottom, “I need words, Y/N,” he commands and you whine out loud yet again. “Yes! Please, need you, Jason,” you tell him and that’s all he needs to hear.

Carrying the two of you, he picks you up and holds you against him. Your legs wrapped against his waist and he sits down on a bench, you still on his lap. His kisses don't stop and the feel is euphoric. His hands haven't stopped roaming your body. The feel of his big hands groping at your soft, supple flesh through the clothing separating you from him combined with just…him, was damn near enough to make you go crazy. You were tugging at his hair and pressing your face against the crook of his neck, desperate to smell his pheromones and your soft lips pressing kisses of your own against his neck had him hard against you already. When you felt his hardness against your tummy you gasped and tugged on his hair a tad bit harder and he moaned against you. Little curses left his mouth and you were seeing stars. Nothing had barely even happened and you were already this close to being admitted into Arkham Asylum.

Suddenly his hands paused their movements and his tone became one of seriousness. He grabbed your chin and forced your face towards his. Your pretty little glossed over eyes shining up into his had his breath hitch and for a split second he forgot what he needed to do. He could see the curiosity on your face, your teeth tugging your lower lip and he had to avert his eyes.

“Fuck, Y/N. I need to tell you something. I-I like you, Y/N. And not just in a friendship way. I understand—” he started but you cut him off, lurching towards him even more and grabbing his head between your hands, kissing him with a force you didn't know you could possess. He could feel you smile into the kiss and he let you have control this time. Not for long, though. He grabbed your hair into his fist and you gasped. “I-I like you, too, Jason. Have for a while now,” you mumbled against him and he grabbed your plump bottom with both hands, bringing your body flush with his. This only fueled the fire, though; his rock hard cock straining against his pants feeling your core against him had him clenching his jaw and closing his eyes, trying to control himself a little bit.

“I like you a lot, Jason. A lot a lot,” you whimpered against his lips and he smiled. You could see the genuinity in his eyes and the softness in his smile. He placed a gentle kiss against your forehead and then one on your nose and finally one on your lips. “I'm glad, sweetheart. Very glad,” and with that he grabbed your hips and shifted your legs a little bit. He forcedly rocked your clothed cunt against his hardness and your eyes closed, head tossed back. It was almost too much, too fucking much. You had been teased all night long and with all this foreplay you weren't sure if you would last. You tried to paw his hands off of your hips and stop your movement, but you just weren't strong enough. His devilish grin staring up at you, his pretty girl, had you whining and grow the ache in your pussy. “Stop, ‘s too much, stop, please, Jay,” you begged against him and all he could do was smile. “Stop? You want me to stop? But I’m not even doing anything, baby,” he teased. He knew he was teasing the damnit out of you. Even as you begged for mercy, there you were, still riding his clothed dick. You couldn't help but follow his lead though, your hips couldn't help but relish in the feeling of his hands tight on them, guiding you back and forth. Even if you wanted to you weren't sure if you could stop. God, it felt so good. Nothing you had ever felt like before. His hands on your hips and his mouth abusing your sensitive skin. The hardness of him grinding directly onto your clit. It was all so amazing.

He could tell you were close. He’s never had you before but he already knew all your tells. Your panting and labored breaths. The way you couldn't keep your eyes open. The stuttering of your hip movement. How you tried to get closer to him, even though you were flush to him. Gasps and whimpers leaving your mouth. Your hands tried to paw his hands away yet again. Think you’d learn the first time. His mouth went right back to sucking marks into your skin and he cooed at you. “C’mon, babygirl. You can do it. I know you need it, sweetheart. Just let go and cum for me,” he softly commanded. Hips following his words, your pace quickened and he ground you down onto him. His own hips jerked up and his cock spanked your core. Within moments the climax unraveled and you let out a screech. The white hot bliss greeted you and the power of your orgasm could be felt in every nerve ending of your body. You shook for a good thirty seconds and your vision went blurry. You slumped against him tiredly and he chuckled. His soothing hands rubbing circles into your back and sweet nothings helped calm you down and your high rode out. You lazily started unbuckling his belt and he grabbed your wrists, stopping you. Oh how you liked the feel of his hands grabbing you like that. “Tsk, tsk, Princess. ‘M not done with you yet.”

In an instant he was untying your shoe laces, kicking them off your feet and forcing your pants down to your ankles. His hands ripped your panties off and you were exposed. The brisk air was biting against your wet cunt and you gasped slightly. He raised you up against the lockers and wrapped your legs around his head, hands planted firmly on your ass holding you midair. The smell of your arousal and the previous orgasm dripping everywhere had him painfully hard. “Tell me if it's too much, baby, and I’ll stop, okay?” You whispered a ‘yes’ and he finally satiated his desire to have your cunt in his mouth. His mouth went straight for your clit and you shrieked at the feeling. His light little sucks on the nub had you rolling your eyes back and jerking your hips. Continuous moans leaving your mouth only encouraging him. He licked a stripe straight up and down the length of your pussy and his own moans left him. You tasted fucking delicious. Like everything he had imagined. All those times he imagined how you’d feel and he was finally fucking seeing for himself. He felt like a kid on goddamn Christmas, his hands tightening his grip on your ass. You were sure there’d be handprints in the morning. His thumb went to rub rough circles on your little bundle of nerves while he thrust his tongue in and out of your weeping hole. You started to cry out for him, hands pushing against his head and fingers gripping his hair attempting to pull him off of your pussy. Absolute the fuck not. He looked to his right and to his luck there was a set of resistance training bands hanging from a hook. He smirked and looked up at your fucked out face and he chuckled to himself. Holding you up with one hand, he reached to his side and grabbed a cable band. You watched his movement and saw what he was doing and your eyes widened. The kinky bitch. “C’mon, princess. Give em to me. Since you don't know how to keep your hands to yourself, I have to take em away from you,” he teased playfully condescending. He tied your hands together behind your back with the workout gear and he hummed satisfied with himself before resuming his meal. He was fucking merciless with his tongue and you soon learned your crush was a borderline sadist. His mouth wrapped around your clit and his sucks were harsh and unforgiving. Like a man starved, he ate you like you were the last source of hope for his soul. His finger started fucking you, too. He started with one but your drenched hole quickly accommodated for more. Soon enough you were on the brink of another orgasm and he forced it from you roughly. “Again, sweetness. You can cum again, cant you? Give me another.”

The orgasm brought tears to your eyes and you wouldn't stop shaking. Your thighs were quaking around his head and your back arched off of the cool metal of the lockers you were propped against. Toes curling, head thrown back, continuous moans and screams leaving your lips. Your second climax of the night arrived and you screamed into the locker room, little sobs leaving your ruined body. He let you ride out your orgasm against his tongue until he was fully content and gently brought you down, placing one last kiss against your lower body. He sucked his fingers that were just shoved inside you, not breaking eye contact with your tired eyes. He placed his forehead against your own and wiped away your tears.

“You okay, baby? Was that too much?” he asked worriedly. He didnt want to fuck up his first time with you and feared he lost control of himself. You smiled tiredly against him and shook your head lightly. “‘M okay, promise. Jus’ need you, Jason.” He smiled and shuffled you towards the mirror and sinks. He took off his shirt and laid it on the edge of one of the sinks he was about to bend you over. You realized it was for your comfort and smiled up at him, feeling your heart swell up. Even when he was about to absolutely obliterate your cunt, he still managed to be a gentleman. He unbuckled his pants and finally his cock sprung up. He sighed, finally feeling relief. He watched you stare at his size through the mirror, seeing your eyes widen and your teeth tug on your lip. He lightly guided you into the position he wanted you in and you sighed contently, feeling comforted by the thought you would finally be fucked by him. Watching him pull a condom out of nowhere and rip it open with his teeth had you on the edge of your seat. He sheathed himself with it and made sure everything was ready. “Ya’ ready for me, sweetheart?” he asked while lining his tip up with your entrance, smearing your wetness all around his head. You gasped and shouted a little “yes” and he chuckled, sinking in. Even with two orgasms loosening your little cunt up for him, he was still a little much to adjust to. Both of your heads tossed back in sync and you closed your eyes, sighing for him. You worked your hips against him, wanting to feel more. He grunted and grabbed you by your hair, bringing your head up to look in the mirror. “Keep your eyes up here, baby.”

Once you were fully adjusted to his size, he slid almost all the way out and then re-entered your warm, wet heat. It felt so good. He set a pace and it was so heavenly. You could cry with how good it felt. You both needed this, needed this release for all the pent up frustrations in your lives. Sounds of flesh smacking against flesh and his grunts and your little sighs filled the room and the smell of sex was heavy in the air. His hands were on either side of your hips and his eyes met yours in the mirror. It was fucking exotic. Seeing your eyes perfectly, watching the pleasure unravel on your face. Pleasure he was giving you. His pace quickened a hair and you gasped. Your hips moved backwards against him, in time with his thrusts. You felt him deeper and the perfect rhythm of his cock repeatedly hitting that spot inside you almost hypnotized you. He smirked a little bit as he watched your fucked out face in the mirror. No thoughts, head empty. It was clear only pleasure was what you felt.

You didn't even notice him reaching above the both of you and retrieving something from the cabinet. Only when you heard the familiar buzzing noise did you wake up from the transe you were in and see what he had in the mirror. A muscle massage gun. For a moment you were a little confused, why was he hurt? Then you felt the big spherical head of the gun against your clit and your eyes rolled to the back of your head for the umpth time that night. He smiled and cooed at you from above. Yeah, he was definitely a sadist. He angled the gun a little bit to the left, wanting to overstimulate your abused little button. His thrusts hadnt ended and it was too fucking much. His pace was faster and harder and deeper now and had you both moaning up a storm. Your hands were finding themselves gripped onto the sink counter and you were struggling to keep your eyes open and in the mirror. He moved the massage gun setting higher and kept it firm against you. Your thighs were shaking and you were glad you were being held against the sink by him. You weren't sure you would be able to keep yourself up if you weren't.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Give me one more, please. I know you can. Cum for me, sweetheart.” You closed your eyes, feeling bliss about to erupt in you again. He quickly corrected you, though. His hand not being used to hold the machine to your clit came up to your throat, squeezing lightly on the sides. Not enough to cause genuine pain or prevent oxygen into your blood, just enough to give you that lightheadedness and in an instant you came on his cock. Your final orgasm was so intense and pleasurable—not surprisingly—and it lasted nearly thirty seconds. He removed the massage gun and returned both hands to your waist. His brutal thrusts as he chased his own orgasm helped you ride it all out. That blissful feeling that lasted longer than your orgasm did. All the stress leaving your body. Finally his sputtering hips stilled as he emptied his hot load into the condom and you whined, half wishing he was emptying himself into your wet little cunt instead. One day.

You both sighed and felt content again. You were sated and had finally gotten what you wanted. His loving palm rubbing circles into your lower belly, soothing you. He peppered light kisses on your skin and slowly slid out of your heat. He turned you around and kissed your forehead. All this loving kissing of his was making you wanna cry, it felt so good. Not just to be fucked right by him, but to have him, too. He was yours, now. And you were finally his. He grabbed your face between his palms and gazed lovingly into your eyes. “You okay, baby? Was that good? I didn't hurt you did I?” You smiled softly and nodded, “Yes, Jay. I'm perfect. You were amazing,” you reassured him with a blush.

He picked you up and sat you on the edge of the counter and got a washcloth from a basket, wetting it under the sink. He wiped the sweat and cum off your body and gave a kiss to each spot after it was clean. He helped dress you and by the time he was carrying you making his way to your room in the manor it was late. He opened your door and locked it behind him, leading you both to your attached bathroom. He undressed you again and turned on the shower. He lightly coaxed you in, seeing as you were so drowsy from all the night’s activities. He undressed himself and got in, lathering your body wash on a loofah and cleaning you. He wanted to make sure his baby was clean and cozy and content. When he was done washing you, he washed himself and enjoyed smelling like you a little too much. He carried you out of the shower and dried you off, clothing you in jammies and then put on some clothes you had stolen from him a while back.

He held you in his arms and you two cuddled each other all night long. You were his now and he couldn't be happier.

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vivwritesfics · 2 months

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Soo, I have an idea, bear with me, it‘s pretty specific (and slightly self-indulgent) but I think it could be nice

Basically, reader has been with Lando for a while already. She played piano as a child but for whatever reason stopped but when Charles releases his piano songs it inspires her to get back to it and Charles ends up helping her practise and they become really good friends (but honestly purely platonic, maybe even siblings vibes) over it. Cue a little bit of angst when Lando gets worried about his girl spending so much time with another guy. But ta-dah, happy end, it turns out that Charles helped her write a song for Lando as a birthday or anniversary present

I absolutely understand if you don‘t want to write this, I just had a little daydream about it and thought you‘d be the perfect person to write it!

Lots of love for you and your works <3

I made the reader Jules Bianchi's little sister

F1 Masterlist

Ever since Jules' tragic passing, Charles had felt a certain sense of protectiveness over his little sister. Everybody thought they were going to start dating, that Y/N Bianchi and Charles Leclerc were destined to be together.

Just like her brother, her life was motorsport. She wasn't a driver, that had never been her desire, but she knew everything there was to know about Formula One. She followed Charles around the world like she wanted to with her brother, supporting him like she would have Jules.

She found love at the race track, but not with Charles.

It was 2019, his rookie season when they met. She had been walking through the paddock, making her way to the Ferrari garage, when she bumped into him. In his McLaren shirt and orange hat, nineteen year old Lando Norris was adorable. It took maybe two years before he finally asked her out. They had been happy together ever since.

Something that most people forget when talking about Y/N Bianchi was her love for music. She had been playing since she was a child and it was something she had used to get through her brothers passing.

She could play several different instruments. While Jules was karting, she was practicing violin, piano, and more. But piano was her favourite of them all.

She still practiced regularly, but it was at the back of her mind as life went on.

But then lockdown happened. She and Lando had just started dating, so she was stuck at home in France, left to call him regularly. She called Charles, too, since he was like an older brother to her. As they talked he walked her around his apartment, setting her up against different surfaces as he did something.

"Charles, is that a piano?" She asked as she looked past him.

He took her closer to it, showing her the new piano he had bought over lockdown.

That was what sparked her playing again.

They didn't have much of a chance to practice together after the season started up again. They still showed each other videos they had taken of themselves playing, but they never played together.

Not until just before Lando's 24th birthday.

Actually, it was the summer break, several months before. But she liked being prepared. Lando had been so fucking excited to spend summer break with her, but she had to blow him off, told him to have fun without her.

Instead she was in Monaco with Charles. They were spending a few weeks in his apartment, writing together until they had a song. Charles had booked a studio, where they recorded together.

***

On the day of Lando's birthday he was woken up with a kiss, breakfast, and a good ol' shag.

"I got you something really special this year," she said as she walked in from the bathroom, using a towel to dry her hair. "Do you remember over summer break, when I stayed in Monaco with Charles?"

Lando's expression darkened. "Yeah, I remember," he grumbled. He knew the nature of her relationship with Charles, but he'd also seen what had been said about the two of them.

Sitting beside him, Y/N ran her hands through his hair. "C'mon, Lan, what's up?" She asked, pouting at him.

Lando threw his head back, exposing his throat as he groaned. "I get sent the articles of you and Charles back from before we started dating at least three times a week. And then you spent summer with him in Monaco and-"

Suddenly she put her hand over his mouth, and Lando softly bit her palm. "I was putting together your birthday present in Monaco. That's why I spent the entire summer with him," she said and pulled up her phone.

Lando sat patiently as she pulled out the song she had written for him. He listened to the piano notes she had put together, to the lyrics she had written. It was, to put it simply, beautiful. He could listen to it on repeat for the rest of his life.

"I... holy shit," he said when the song finished. "I fucking love you," He said. "That was incredible."

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #lando norris x you #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader

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comicaurora · 4 months

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Nick Bostrom's "Fable of the Dragon Tyrant," which CGP Grey adapted into a video, left me feeling unsatisfied, and I got a certain unsettling vibe about the entire story.

I don't think it was the dragon's lack of agency, that just makes it an unusually traditional Western dragon.

You're a master at picking narratives apart to figure out why they don't satisfy. Do you have any insight, opinions, or cracktheories about why this story might be unsatisfying to some folks?

Probably because it's a very unsubtle metaphor casting the dragon as death, and death itself as a cruel, malevolent beast devouring and subjugating humanity for its own whims. This is very much intentional on the part of the writer. The paradigm of the story is that the dragon is huge, terrifying and incalculably cruel, and everyone lives their lives in the shadow of its terror or are just too deluded to recognize that it's COMING TO EAT THEM OH GOD

Intrinsic in this metaphorical structure is the idea that the dragon, aka death, is an artificial imposition on the natural order, and if we just got rid of the big ol' mean dragon, everybody would live forever and be fine. Accepting that the dragon exists is framed as a sign of desperation or even cowardice. This is an understandable read when facing a monster that only SEEMS timeless and inevitable (like LeGuin's thoughts comparing the current state of capitalism to the historical acceptance of the divine right of kings) but becomes bizarre when applied to something as legitimately factual as biological death. It's not even framed as unnatural death - the dragon specifically gets sent mostly old people. The metaphor is very explicitly about trying to frame death from old age as a big horrible dragon that everyone only thinks is unstoppable.

I get what they're going for here. The purpose of this story is to make the audience question if death is a true inevitability or if it can be fought, staved off, even defeated. But in the process, the story frames the systems of the world that have formed around death - doctors, pallative caregivers, will executors - as macabre gears in the machine dedicated to the genocidal cruelty of feeding the dragon.

In the dragon tyrant framing, these people only exist to make the rest of the world more okay with flinging themselves down the gullet of the dragon and to streamline the process by which everybody dies. By casting death as the enemy, everybody whose jobs are based on the compassionate act of comforting and aiding people suffering from loss become reframed as collaborators with the incalculably evil enemy, and everyone who's ever accepted their own death becomes a loser. This is a deeply cruel way to frame people who dedicate their lives to helping people through one of the hardest and most tragic aspects of life.

Damn, that's fucked up. Look at this eloquent idiot, explaining why we should be okay with letting a big dragon eat us because it's the natural order. Clearly he is wrong and it's not debasing at all to want to stay alive and not get eaten by a big dragon. This is a fallacy of false analogy: death is like being eaten by a big mean dragon. All his arguments look ridiculous when applied to getting eaten by a big mean dragon, therefore they must be ridiculous when applied to dying when your organs start failing because they've been running nonstop for nine decades and biological systems accumulate wear and tear like literally everything else in the universe.

Entropy increases; systems break down, from DNA to planetary orbits. Successfully shoot down the dragon and you'll end up outliving everything you thought was eternal, even the stars. The goal of immortality isn't really to personally witness the sun exploding, it's to have more good time. It's to make your twenties last into your sixties. It's to keep your back painless and your vision good for longer. We want to postpone the story's end as long as we can, and so we extrapolate "more time" into "I never want to die, I want to be young and healthy and hot forever" even though "forever" doesn't exist. To look to "forever" is to understand that your culture and language will drift, your home will eventually crumble out from under you, your shoreline will erode and change, your climate will transform, your tectonic plate will subduct or shatter, your moon's orbit will slow and tidally lock, and eventually your sun will start burning helium and cook your planet. You don't want "forever" to look like that, you want it to look like your twenties felt. But at that point you aren't fighting the Big Mean Dragon That Eats People, you're fighting the ocean and the biosphere and the earth and the stars, trying to hold them in place against entropy so your immortality can have an equally immortal world to enjoy it in. No, this argument doesn't want true immortality, it wants their twenties to last longer. But it can't admit that.

Back to the story. There's a condescending and spiteful tone in the narration. Death (being eaten by a big mean dragon) is OBVIOUSLY awful and we should all be fighting as hard as we can to make it stop happening. Even a child can see it.

The story even helpfully adds a lengthy moral explanation at the end, in case you didn't understand that the dragon was the inevitability of death and we should dedicate all our resources to figuring out how to make a big rocket and shoot it.

"Nobody should ever die" is generally understood to be a childish dream with extremely obvious and unpleasant consequences that would turn its realization into an unending and waking nightmare, and once out of the confines of easy metaphor, the story tries to act like that wasn't what it was just saying. But its more realistic proposed substitute, "It would be great if people could live longer and have more healthy, youthful years in them," is probably the world's most uncontroversial statement. This story frames it like a bold revelation that the world will attempt to beat down and crush out of a misguided acceptance that Big Mean Dragon comes for us all. It's a morality fable whose conclusion is "I hope science improves the length and quality of our lives, potentially even to the point where we never have to die at all," which has been the number one goal of huge swaths of science since the invention of agriculture. This is not a bold or controversial take. It's just being written as though we're all looking at the naked emperor and pretending he's wearing pants.

#asks #not aurora

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punkpandapatrixk · 4 months

Text

🌈Would You Marry Me, Honey? ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

Ideally, we’d hope for our Future Spouse to be the only person we would ever be married to🎎Having said that, this reading isn’t catering to a Future Spouse aenergy; this reading is entertaining the idea of a dharmic Soulmate who’s destined for our Highest Intended Good.

Our Destined Person—he or she whose soul essence lights up the whole world after we’ve learnt to light up our own world with Love towards ourselves🥰

To those of you reading this who had been married before or are currently bound to a weird loveless contract, please know this reading is still for you in whatever way it resonates for you🌷We all deserve to be happier and happier still at whatever stage of Life we’re in. It isn’t greed we’re talking about; it’s knowing everybody deserves to find Love in the end💝

And aaa~ happy holidays, Witches~!🎄

SONG: I’m Glad There Is You by Julie London

MOVIE: How To Marry A Millionaire (1953)

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 2]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – Making A Soft Bed of Flowers with You

VIBE: Schatze Page & Tom Brookman

why I was attracted to you – 9 of Pentacles

Umm…you’re kinda giving off this coldass bitch boss aura that sends news to the entire town that you ain’t needing nobody in your Life. You’re so ULTRA independent it actually scares the living shit out of normal people XD You’re too powerful; too resourceful in your aloneness; too successful in your solitude; damn, are you sure you haven’t got an army of jealous bitches wishing ill upon you?? There are IT girls whom all girls want to be and guys want to be with, but you’re a whole different game, hon.

Girls know they can’t be you however much they pay! Guys know they can’t ever bend you however much they hate that you won’t pick them! Your aenergy is weird…you’re too happy…too authentic. The wrong people can only shake their heads in disbelief, gossiping that there must be something shady you’ve done in Life for you to be this real, this successful without being an ass-licker.

At the top of your game, you make the news go round and round you’re making them money from talking non-stop about you. That’s when your Destined Person hear about you and fell in love with your character. You’re swag, or something. You’re savage and honest. They fucking LOVE that you’re an unbreakable bitch boss. You can be a bitch boss to the world, but to your Destined Person, you’re a Goddess of Realness! And that’s rare AF. You’re a true gem. Finally, an equal to them!

how I fell in love with you – King of Cups

Well, in spite of how you appear to the world, your Destined Person was able to see beyond the façade. You act tough and all that but you have a kind and generous soul. People can’t be strong all alone for so long. If anything, the way you appear strong and unshakable incites your Destined Person’s protective nature LOL Your Destined Person has a big heart and wants to nurture. I think their love language might be gifts and attention just because they really like to give. They will give you all their money and attention LMAO

The main reason they fell in love with you is that you’ve inspired them to get even more in touch with their sensitive side. When your Destined Person sees or talks to you, their minds are opened to new ways to express their emotions. It is because you’re eloquent and you have a great library of words to impart your thoughts and feelings. Your Destined Person thinks you’re inhumanly intelligent and so new wave! Whatever that means XD

They also see that you, too, have a big heart. That you’re more understanding than anybody they’ve ever met. Below the iceberg castle you’ve built to protect yourself, you have an entire flower kingdom of kindness and care. It is your generous nature, your heart your Destined Person truly fell in love with. You’re gutsy and talented; you’re honest and courageous; but most of all, you are a genuine Lover with a divine heart and your Destined Person wants that for themselves…

Umm…with this King aenergy…I think your Destined Person is a possessive and territorial style? ^_^;

when I knew you were The One – Ace of Pentacles

Buhahahah… I think your Destined Person knew you were The One from the very beginning. From the moment they were intrigued by you, they already knew you were made for them! Not saying they never had moments they doubted themselves, especially when it comes to whether or not they are deserving of someone mega awesome as you, but they were head over heels from the get go. They couldn’t deny this attraction and they thought, whether or not they’re the marrying type, if they ever want to spend the rest of their days with someone that would have to be YOU~

When they met you…or got to know you (before meeting)…your Destined Person had been wanting to have a new beginning of sort. I think their Life was already secure and they’d achieved quite a great deal in Life. But that security felt fleeting. They wanted to offer all this greatness to someone. Your Destined Person is undoubtedly a lover LOL They want to be in a loving relationship. They want to share their Life, their riches, their comfort with someone. Obviously, it’s YOU~

With this Pile, rather than the idea of your Destined Person needing time to decide on you…it’s more like they actually had to stop themselves from creeping you out by not proposing to you on your first date! LMAO This is a Ted Mosby saying ‘I LOVE YOU’ on his first date with Robin kinda vibe. Something along those lines. Just pretend you didn’t know they already wanted to marry you from the beginning, hon XD Your whole courtship might feel awkward but cute because your Destined Person struggles a lil with behaving like they’re not crazy about you LMAO

I LOVE YOU🔻💙

in sorrow and in sickness – Gold Historian (Raphael Holinshed)

I vow to be there for you – Priestess of Patience

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – I Could Tell You Were So Much More Than Your Silence

VIBE: Pola Debevoise & Freddie Denmark

why I was attracted to you – 3 of Pentacles Rx

When your Destined Person first saw you, they noticed that you were distant, rather aloof. Not sure if it was shyness or something else. Depending on your Destined Person’s base psychology or the environment they were brought up in, your Destined Person either thought you were a bitch, unfriendly, or they simply wondered by you were THAT shy, THAT quiet. I think it’s possible the day you met them you simply weren’t in a jolly mood, so you were rather uncommunicative.

Be THAT as it may, your Destined Person ain’t a bitch and if anything they were attracted to your coolness. There is something in your aura, your vibe, your body language, that tells them…you were so much more than your unfriendliness. Perhaps it’s in your gentle gesture, perhaps it’s in the way you gaze at someone else, but your Destined Person could tell, you’re a sensitive person who’s careful with who you get friendly with.

Your Destined Person saw…felt, rather…that you must be a compassionate, empathetic person who would make them feel safe. They could tell that you were society’s outcast of sort, that you were not generic, and that because of this you weren’t the type to quickly judge somebody without knowing their story first. Your Destined Person admires that about you. They think you have high morality and that although you aren’t always smiley or anything, for the most part, you’re really a polite person who’s such a delight to talk to once you feel comfortable with someone.

how I fell in love with you – 8 of Pentacles

Your Destined Person could tell that you’re somebody who’s battled your own inner demons. You’ve worked hard on yourself to be the superior version of yourself. And because you’re naturally kind and very keen on human psychology, your Destined Person saw that you’re the type that can easily understand other people’s crazy. That’s why you’re kind, quiet, and for the most part, patient with other people. You’re cool because you understand the world—you’re based. But you’re also aloof because you understand that most Humans are a waste of time LMAO

Your Destined Person thinks you’re the coolest person who’s ever walked on Earth! This is kinda telling me either your Destined Person is a few years younger than you or they could’ve come from a rather easy background so the maturity of their psychology is behind you XD Do you have significant Scorpio placements? Anyway, your Destined Person is charmed by your maturity, deep knowledge about uncommon things, and that once they get you talking, like whoa, your knowledge and perspectives are SO interesting. They could hear you talk for weeks on end.

Obviously, your Destined Person feels inspired by you. They also feel you’re the safest person they could talk to. If anything, you help them overcome their own demons or pains from the past. When they talk with you, they understand themselves better and they love that your perspectives on people and things are genuinely rooted in your desire to comfort and heal. They think you’re deeply spiritual but based, realistic and pragmatic, and before they could put words to it, they’ve already fallen in love with your character🥰

when I knew you were The One – Knight of Cups

I do see that it takes a bit, juuust a biiit, of time for your Destined Person to know you were The One for them, forever. Personally, they themselves are quite wary of people so just because they were curious and subsequently friendly towards you, didn’t mean they wanted to marry you immediately. Which, all things considered, is very sweet because when you met your Destined Person, when you noticed they were trying to get to know you, they were genuine! They weren’t just trying to get into your pants or wanting other superficial things from you.

Your Destined Person, I feel, is a very charming and handsome person. They’re likely popular, too. I think they know a lot of people, have a large family or perhaps have multiple large circles of people they know, so in that sense, they’re not the type of person who’s needing people just to fill in some kind of emptiness inside. They’re very genuine with you and in trying to get to know you, if anything, they’re the one who wants to offer you something precious: their attention and affection. There’s something poignant about you that makes them feel ultra-protective and they genuinely love that feeling of becoming a true romantic in your presence.

I LOVE YOU🔻🧡

in sorrow and in sickness – Green Magus (John Dee)

I vow to be there for you – Priestess of Inspiration

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – Oh, Dreamy Beauty, You Elevate My Dreams

VIBE: Loco Dempsey & Eben

why I was attracted to you – Page of Wands

‘Okay, I’m not trying to be creepy or anything but damn you’re SEXY.’ Your Destined Person was first and foremost attracted to your beauty—your sex appeal, to be precise. They find you incredibly sexy…but why the goddamn hell are you cute?? Is that allowed? Little did they know that this appeal is actually your authentic soul. You’re actually a lot more honest than you give yourself credit for. You live Life quite honestly and you’re just being yourself. You don’t really give a damn if people find your essence offensive. ‘I’m not everybody’s cup of tea and that’s perfectly acceptable to me—so what are you gonna do about it?’

Though you’re strong like that on one hand, on the other you’re also quite stupid because you trust people too easily! At least your Destined Person sees you this way. They think, because you’re always honest you could fall into the trap of believing everybody is just as honest, as straightforward as you, which, most people aren’t! Plenty of people are sneaky and dangerous! And your Destined Person noticed this and felt a pull towards protecting you… *why don’t we have a melting heart emoji?*

Your Destined Person felt a pull to be there for you, protecting your Light, your innocence, your joy and happiness. I feel your Destined Person is actually quite a thinker, but when they were drawn to you, as if falling into a trance they couldn’t follow logic anymore. They were drawn in by your passion and delightful personality and before they knew it, they felt like they’d been swallowed whole by your flame🔥

how I fell in love with you – Queen of Pentacles

You’re a wholesome character and that much was apparent to your Destined Person right after they’ve got to know you a bit better. How quickly your Destined Person fell in love with you varies with this Pile, but some digging, some getting to know each other, and some learning is definitely required with this connection. Essentially, the moment your Destined Person learns that you’re so much more than how you look, they couldn’t help but develop genuine feelings for you. It’s a Soul-based kind of Love that transcends human ego.

I feel like your Destined Person could even shed a tear from realising just how much they care about your wellbeing. It’s pure like that and I promise you they’re not so used to feeling that typa feeling for just about anybody! As much as they see you as this very unique, very strong character in your own right, they want to be there to protect your heart. If your Destined Person is a masculine person, they will also want to protect your body and provide for you. They want to make things easier for you! They’re willing to make sacrifices to give the whole world for you, simply because you’re worth it.

Your Destined Person loves how you’re essentially the main character of your own world and…they want to be part of that world? XD They don’t mind being a side character in your world whom you fall for. I think this person could be younger than you or they’re simply not that mature yet emotionally or spiritually! What they love most about you is how you’re literally the most unique, resourceful, strategizing character who knows how to build your own world from scratch! You’re literally the most wholesome character they’d ever known throughout their Life. And they want a part in that world you’ve built with so much love and care. Now, they want to care for you…

when I knew you were The One – 10 of Wands Rx

Let it be known that your Destined Person is quite an intense bitch LMAO When they love, they love with all of their being and their devotion is no joke. This ain’t a playa over here. Or at least…when it comes to YOU, they ain’t got no game. Trust me. You must’ve done or said something that completely changed your Destined Person’s entire view on love and relationships. I betcha you’re the type of intense bitch who’d never settle for anything less than real Love. And that literally brushed off on your Destined Person. In the beginning, they went to war with themselves over this notion of real Love with a capital L.

They never really knew what Love was all about or if they were even deserving of Love. Just like everybody else, they had a very silly take on romance—this is especially the case if your Destined Person is a masculine being. Because of you, now they understand that money ain’t it; sex appeal ain’t it; status ain’t it. Aesthetics comes after real Love. You taught them that. And they’re grateful and they realise you’re the only person they want to love. It’s kinda possessive like that…I think your Destined Person could have some Taurus or Scorpio placements??

Anyway, in some way, your Destined Person could’ve been so embarrassed about their own childishness and felt super lacking as a person. Like, they don’t really know what to offer a divine being such as you…but they vowed to better themselves and grow up as quickly as possible so they could become worthy of your Love LMAO Gosh! It was around this time they realised they wanted to grow up as a person that they knew you were the ONLY one for them! Umm…like they just knew they could and would never be able to feel this way for any other person that’s not you. It had to be you~

I LOVE YOU🔻💛

in sorrow and in sickness – Silver Magus (Merlin)

I vow to be there for you – Priestess of Innocence

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 2]

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saturdaynightspecialpresentation · 4 months

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Poor Things

First of all, Emma Stone’s performance is as good as everybody is saying. Stone takes a very difficult role that easily could have gone very, very wrong and makes it look like the most effortless thing in the world.

I have been looking at the reviews, good and bad, and I think that the minority of people who didn’t vibe with this movie had slightly skewed expectations.

Poor Things starts out at Tetsuo The Iron Man levels of fucked up, but by the end it has dropped to Edward Scissor hands levels of fucked up. This is probably plenty of weirdness for the average movie-goer, but true connoisseurs of mondo cinema should calibrate their expectations.

Second, apparently this is being talked up as a sort of feminist coming of age fable chronicling an everywoman’s sexual awakening and liberation, and it really isn’t that, and I think if you are hoping for that you’ll come away disappointed.

Better, I think, to look at it as an autistic coming of age fable and power fantasy, which I think it does a tremendous job at.

Very minor spoilers under the cut; really, this is more an essay about what I thought the film was about than a review, my review would be that it's somehow simultaneously a feel-good crowd-pleaser AND a movie where an adult woman with the brain of a toddler stabs the eyes out of a corpse with a scalpel and then plays with its penis (I wasn't kidding with the Tetsuo comparison)

Honestly now that I've actually written that out I have maybe underestimated how impressive it is that Yorgos Lanthimos made a movie where that happens on screen but somehow basically everybody loves the movie.

In terms of sex, we do watch Bella discover sex, but she very quickly comes to a conclusion about her relationship with it which never once changes throughout the rest of the movie:

She likes it, she likes it more with an attractive partner, she is utterly lacking in any kind of sexual jealousy, and she doesn't attach too much more to it than that.

This is an odd comparison, but Bella treats sex the way Joey did on Friends. A man acting this way is a sitcom cliche, but a woman acting the same way…

This is a film that is really, really not interested in the real-world consequences of this kind of sex; in fact, given that a pregnancy is the inciting incident of the film, it came off a little weird to me that the possibility of a pregnancy or STD was never really addressed (unless there was a line or two that I missed while I was in the bathroom).

For the most part, though, I was able to get past it by just thinking of it as a heightened world. The sets and settings are extremely artificial, and ultimately I figured, “Hey, if I can buy this kind of thing as harmless and fun in a sitcom, I can buy it in this other kind of heightened reality.

I will say, I don't think Bella is meant to be an every-woman, and that there's textual support for this in the film itself.

All of the women Bella deals with in some way question her approach to sex, making it clear, sometimes through explicit dialog, other times more reading between the lines, that her approach to sex is not for them.

If there’s any particularly feminist message in the film, it’s that when confronted with Bella’s bizarre approach to the world, none of the women get angry at her, and most of the men she meets do.

But Bella’s relationships with other women aren’t really the meat of the film, that’s more about her relationship with men, and particularly the way that they feel, deep in their bones, that they should have control over any woman that they have sex with.

Duncan Wedderburn, when he first discovers Bella and convinces her to go away with him, thinks he is tricking and seducing a beautiful naif who he can use and then discard when he tires of her. Their relationship disintegrates as it becomes clear that Bella hasn’t been tricked at all; she wanted exactly what he was able to give, a chance to sow her wild oats by having some no strings attached sex with an attractive, likable person in an exciting foreign city.

This makes Wedderburn increasingly unhappy and unhinged (He says at one point that he has become what he hates, a “grasping succubus”) much to Bella’s growing consternation. She has no idea why he can’t simply be happy having sex with her and otherwise letting her do what she wants, and he is so committed to a certain vision of gender roles that he can’t even begin to explain it, he can only lash out in frustration.

And that I think is the meatier part of the film; Bella doesn’t so much flout social expectations as she is simply totally unaware that they exist.

Honestly I think the character isn’t so much coded as autistic as she just is autistic. Bella is a woman who is basically totally unaware of social expectations and constantly taken aback to discover that they exist.

More than that, she has to figure out a way to work around the fact that many of the people who become most enraged by her are also so totally lacking in self-reflection, and view their social situation as so normal, so self-evidently obvious that they cannot explain to her why it is she has made them angry. They suddenly fly into rages that clearly perplex Bella and which they themselves don’t even bother to explain, because they regard their own ideas as self-evident.

Bella is an idealized autistic hero; personally as outlandish as she is I don’t really think the film expects us to take the side of anybody else, and I think there are some fairly subtle and accurate bits of autistic behavior on her part.

She responds to life as a kind of social experiment, attempting to parse out a set of logical rules and, especially in the latter parts of the movie, she often justifies her actions with a perfectly sensible internal logic that the emotional men in her life can’t parse out. Late in the film, when she and Wedderburn are destitute, she prostitutes herself for 30 francs, and with implacable logic, explains the two reasons that Wedderburn ought to be quite happy she has done so: First, her john was much worse at sex than Wedderburn, which ought to satisfy his ego, and second, they now have 30 francs and the potential to earn more.

Wedderburn does not appreciate her logical approach.

Another thing that strikes me as very true is that Bella has a very odd theory of mind for other people. There’s a scene where, traumatized by the unspeakable poverty and suffering she sees in Alexandria, she puts all of Wedderburn’s money in a box and rushes out to give it to the poor. Unfortunately the ship is leaving, but two port attendants tell her that they will be staying on the island, and would be happy to deliver a package. She tells them that she has a big box filled with money and they should give it to the island’s poor, and they agree to do so. Now, the film never tells us one way or another whether they keep their word; but Bella herself retains an iron certainty that they did exactly what she asked them to. Now, we know Bella understands what lying and deceit are, because we’ve seen her trick people before, like when she chloroforms McCandles to run away with Wedderburn. But it never once occurs to her that these sailors might do something similar. Call it paradoxical, but that kind of thinking is common in autistic people.

There’s also the scene where the self-professed cynic Harry Astley shows her the suffering in Alexandria; he admits, when he sees how terribly it has affected her, that he didn’t tell her simply because he thought it was the truth of the world, but that her attitude made him angry, and he wanted to hurt her. A very common part of the autistic coming of age is the slow realization that not everything people tell you is part of a dispassionate, scientific search for the truth.

There’s also a scene in a whorehouse in which Bella argues that it would make more sense to have the women decide who is to sleep with the johns, so that then the john could be more confident that the girl was attracted to him, which he must doubt if he chooses. You can tell I’m autistic because I immediately had the thought, “Well, but the johns would probably be worried that nobody would choose them.”

One of Bella’s fellow working girls instead tells her, “Some of them like the fact that we don’t have a choice”.

#poor things #movie review #autism #cw violence #I'm actually not sure what kind of content warning I should put for the corpse stabbing

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cartierre · 11 months

Text

GOLDEN RETRIEVER | ls18

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU lance stroll x fem!reader

side note: i am so obsessed with lance as of lately so... this really hit different. thank you @lovelytsunoda for saving the day!

♡ liked by chloestroll, lance_stroll, scottyjames31 and 98,293 others

tagged: lance_stroll

yourusername g'day australia!

view all 438 comments

user1 dexter is so adorable! ⤷ user2 i need a dexter and roscoe collab right now!

user3 i hope dexter had a save flight!

lance_stroll all these comments are about how cute dexter is but have you seen me on the last slide? ⤷ yourusername the cutest!

danielricciardo your australian accent is getting better with every gp ⤷ scottyjames31 i agree ⤷ yourusername i have the best teachers

user4 is dexter going to have his own instagram account?

♡ liked by yourusername, lance_stroll, lewishamilton and 57,873 others

roscoelovescoco tis my new friend everybody's: dexter!

view all 536 comments

user5 this is the crossover i needed

user6 ah omg i love that they like each other! ⤷ user7 best duo on the grid

user8 every time i read roscoe's captions i get a seizure

yourusername i think dexter would love another playdate in the future! ⤷ roscoelovescoco i love's that!

♡ liked by danielricciardo, lance_stroll, lewishamilton and 88,923 others

tagged: lance_stroll

yourusername miami really tired out our sweet boy

view all 403 comments

user9 maybe this is a sign that you shouldn't drag him everywhere with you ⤷ user10 nobody says anything when roscoe attends races but with dexter you people suddenly care? ⤷ user11 i think they know their dog's limits the best

user12 is that soda he's drinking? ⤷ yourusername don't worry, it's water!

lance_stroll is the caption about me or dex? ⤷ yourusername free ✨ interpretation ✨

user13 i love how dexter doesn't have his own instagram because y/n's profile is actually turning into dexter's

user14 why is everyone hating on how y/n and lance raise their own dog?

user15 isn't he just the cutest!? dog parents of the year

♡ liked by chloestroll, lance_stroll, danielricciardo and 101,003 others

tagged: chloestroll, scottyjames31, lance_stroll

yourusername most beautiful wedding with the most beautiful newlyweds

view all 637 comments

user16 i'm so envious to everyone who attended this wedding!!! ⤷ user17 fr the vibes are everything

chloestroll ❤️️❤️️

user18 i think this is the first post in ages without dexter ⤷ user19 they probably thought it would be better to not take him with them

scottyjames31 next time yours? ⤷ yourusername i think someone's taking his sweet time to propose

user20 DID Y/N JUST SAY SHE'D BE READY TO GET MARRIED TO LANCE? ⤷ user21 they've been together for quite some time, moved in together and have a dog...

♡ liked by chloestroll, lance_stroll, scottyjames31 and 110,739 others

tagged: lance_stroll

yourusername i think dexter wants us to be an official family

view all 873 comments

user22 OMG HE PULLED THROUGH ⤷ user23 lance is one lucky guy

scottyjames31 guess there will be a new mrs. stroll soon ⤷ yourusername i'm stepping into your shoes

chloestroll i hope lance and i picked out a good ring ⤷ yourusername a family of taste

user24 i am obsessed that lance took his sister to shop for y/n's ring ⤷ user25 sibling goals ⤷ user26 i'm more obsessed that he proposed at the canadian gp, his home race! perfect timing

lance_stroll makes the candian gp even more special.. i love you, dexter loves you as well ⤷ yourusername i love youuu ❤️️❤️️

#lance stroll #lance stroll imagine #lance stroll imagines #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll x you #lance stroll x y/n #lance stroll fluff #lance stroll fanfiction #f1 social media au #f1 smau #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fluff #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 instagram au

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i-cant-sing · 11 months

Note

What are your thoughts on the yandere haikyuu teams x their manager?

Boring. I need some spice in it. How about-

Yandere Daichi as a cop and his darling is a civilian and now he's so obsessed with her that he murders her husband, frames him as a criminal and will literally stop at nothing to get darling in his arms because again... who will suspect good old, everybody's best bud COP Daichi to be able to do heinous crimes???

Yandere Sugawara as a psychiatrist because come on- he gives major "master manipulator" vibes and now he's obsessed with his darling patient and will continue to do malpractice and gaslight her and prescribe her all the wrong meds until she loses it and he gets to admit it her under his "special care" and now he can play with her mind all day long🤍

Yandere Oikawa is now a pro volleyball athlete and he just saw Ushijima's little sis, the same one he used to bully and even rejected (and ofc, HUMILIATED) when she confessed to him back in highschool. But now Oikawa's obsessed with her and also still hates his nemesis Ushijima, so what's better than killing two birds with one stone??? And Oikawa still has a very devoted fanclub, only now it's larger and more powerful than ever so now he uses them and his socials to peer pressure you into dating him and eventually, marrying him because he ain't getting any younger honey and he needs some cute babies out of you ASAP.

Yandere Kuroo who is the smart IT tech guy at your office but in reality, he has his own cyber security company that he uses to spy on you, controls your entire life through your socials and don't even get me started on your online banking shit. If its any consolation, he's very rich so... yeah. He may not look like a million bucks, but he does have them. In several offshore accounts.

Yandere Kita who somehow ended up as a mafia leader, probably inherited it as family business and he has like severe OCD so he wants everything done to perfection or so help you, you will 1000% end up 6 feet under. Mafia Kita who has this vision of you being the perfect wife, solely based om the one time you offered him your handkerchiefs because he had a nosebleed from stressing too much and now Kita thinks you're an absolute angel and he wont let you destroy that fantasy of his. Seriously. He will pick out your outfits, tell you how to act and all, punish you if he must, but he does love you.

Yandere Ushijima who is a farmer and has decided that the reader whose car broke down and came to his door asking for help, will now be his wife and be a countryside mom to many kids (u can't say no, okay? He wants a big family) and animals! But hey, he's a very caring husband and will massage your feet, give you baths and feed you his homegrown veggies and meals daily once you are round with his babies🥺

Yandere Bokuto who is now a popular politician and he needs an obedient wife to keep up appearances and play the "family man" image up. So he decides to threaten reader who had a one night stand with him, and Bokuto somehow has very intimate images and videos of you and he uses them to get you to marry him. And now he controls every aspect of your life and tells you to do exactly as he says, and he abuses this privilege more as he gets more powerful and you could only imagine the horrors he would inflict on you if he does actually win elections, but you can't run away because again- he has eyes and contacts everywhere.

#yandere daichi #yandere daichi sawamura #yandere bokuto #yandere ushijima x reader #yandere ushijima wakatoshi #yandere ushijima #yandere kuroo #yandere oikawa #yandere oikawa tooru #yandere kita #yandere haikyuu #yandere haikyu x reader #yandere sugawara

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detransraichu · 2 months

Text

i really think you can give yourself something akin to dysphoria w things unrelated to gender too. i think it may be the same feeling that otherkin and fictionkin people describe, and uhhhhh not to expose myself but yeah i was a hardcore kinnie and still dabble in it, and the feeling is a YEARNING for a different body and a different self, a yearning to not just be your boring cringy lonely self, bc you tried to fix and like that one but it's just too much work and it's annoying

i think also that any body modification or identity changes eventually gets boring, or at least neutral. you change your pronouns online or even irl, it makes you nervous, bashfully happy when someone uses it, giddy with emotion, etc it consumes your days until everyone uses them long enough then it all loses its spark and you have to focus on normal life again. there's a feeling of boredom followed by sudden thrilling nervewracking excitement when they (and i include myself in that) think of a higher stake like "omg should i legally change my name again? should i change my pronouns for the millionth time? what if i'm genderfluid instead of agender? what if i'm bigender instead of demigirl? what would it feel like? omg let me get into the mind of what those identities would feel like let me meditate and see if the ~vibe~ matches my true inner self let me journal on my blog let me go thru the tumblr tag of it to see if all the memes speak to my soul!! ugh this isn't big enough actually, this hasn't changed my life radically and fixed all my life problems and self-esteem yet, should i go on hormones? should i get surgeries? should i tell loved ones that i know will be bigoted and once they show themselves as transphobes i'll have to cut them off? bc my trans friends will reaffirm that they're as bad as abusers? should i get bottom surgery too?"

there's a fun secretive feeling of anonymity, a persona, a simulacrum. almost an OC of your ideal self you get to work on for sooo long until the changes happen, and by then you're emotionally attached to that OC, you want to be them So Bad. it's special rebirth. and many of those ppl... well not all, i do respect that some choose that path for other reasons and for healthier ones than others, i'm not 100% against transition/identification and not all dysphoria is healable, but as a detrans woman who's talked to many like me... MANY of these are just desperate people looking for good feelings and self-esteem, like i used to be. desperate ppl will grasp at anything they think will fix it, especially if luck is involved like hrt/surgeries where you don't actually fully know what the result will be and if you'll even like it, and if you don't you'll just be an ugly boring detrans reject. that's HIGH STAKES and for a mentally unwell person struggling w dysphoric symptoms it's addictive as hell and it makes you feel so special and makes your life finally feel thrilling like a movie, you have a vibrant community, you're finally interesting enough, and you'll finally be attractive enough after all the surgeries and hormones and with the cutest name and the most fitting pronouns and everybody will love you forever and will protect you from the big bad bigoted meanies who you should never talk to ever again shh any indecision is internalized transphobia and any worries from others is bigotry! just keep going!! never question anything or slow down ever and any therapy is just conversion therapy sweetie, don't listen to them <3

#lay text #radfem #radsafe #detrans

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cooki3face · 8 months

Text

what kind of seducer are you (18+)

this is me using my mornings to be productive and doing what I said I would do for you guys in the first place lol, these readings take me a long time and a lot of energy even if it doesn’t seem like it so I hope you enjoy these and find them entertaining <33

***

I’m giving immediately everyone wants to see you everyone wants to be around you or people perceive you to be someone well known and well sought after and that within itself is the pinnacle of your allure. Everyone has to have you. You’re a wish fulfillment to many people I’m hearing it girl. I’m also getting debutant vibes like there’s this very timeless beauty that you manifest, or like Bridgerton vibes, you’re the diamond of the season, everybody sees you, everyone wants to look at you, everyone wants to know what you’ll do next.

I’m hearing people also see you as someone who can protect and love very well and it makes them feel very greedy about you. Your energy is enlightened, you heal, you love. And when you have energy like that people can be very attracted to it and desire to have it all for themselves. To overconsume. Like I hear people saying that your energy, the type of person you are is very scarce and they’d like to have a taste, they’d like to have you for themselves.

I’m also getting people may think you’re very good in bed or they fantasize about you and what you can do I’m hearing you’re very beautiful. You’re a perfect embodiment of what desire and love is. You could be a virgin or be very protective over your sexual energy and who you give yourself over to and that curiosity and desire to dive into you is what really attracts some people to you. You make people very thirsty. You’re a reservoir of water in the desert.

Im hearing you’re the one thing people make sure to ask their God for. You may bring people a lot of peace and solace and people see you to be a nurturing person or someone they want to rest with or be around in their time of hardship in need. Like when we had nightmares as a child and we went to lie with someone we knew would keep us safe or would support us or listen to us even if what we were afraid of felt silly or unreal.

People sense that your accolades are within. Like you don’t have to prove yourself or display your talents or achievements publicly or through things that are physical and tangible because people know and you know that you are a good person and have many talents and wonderful attributes and abilities. People also believe that you’re very wise and smart as well. And I’m hearing that you may even take the sexual charge out of people not in a bad way because you’re very desired but you take out the ache and the craving of being sexually driven to fill a void because people see you as fulfilling enough or a lot already without having to sleep with you or use your body for healing.

You make people feel as though they can have all the things they fear they cannot or don’t deserve.

***

ii.

There’s something about your emotional receptivity or your emotional energy that brings people to you. You could be a masculine energy or a man because I got the king of cups. People feel that you care very deeply about a great deal of things even to the point of it troubling you. They feel you have a lot of heart and that you would be ideal for marriage or long-term commitment because they know you’d love them with everything you’ve got and for a long time.

People may feel as though you can heal them or open up their hearts to be saved because you understand them or you may relate to their sorrows and worries. I hear “They’re filled to the brim with love.” You may attract people who’ve come from broken homes or come from places where they weren’t very loved or valued and people feel as though you can shower them in love and affection and fill a hole in their heart. People may leech off of you at times or drain your energy because they see the things they did not receive at crucial moments in their life in excess in you.

I’m hearing people saying that your love is like love. Your s*x, your affection, and your touch is what love is supposed to feel like. You may be very gentle but rough at the same time, very strong, and give off very protective and patient energy. I'm hearing that people fall for you very fast and very hard. You're almost addictive and it takes them long bouts of time to feel their really free of the effect you have on them. People feel you even in your absence when you're not around to have and to hold. You're a lot to miss. You're a lot to love and be loved by. There's so much excess.

You could give off very paternal energy. The girls with daddy issues love you, the boys with daddy issues find themselves wanting to crawl into your lap too. You could be very dominant as well. Stubborn, strong-willed, and unwavering. People find very high expectations for what it means and what it feels like to be loved by you. I’m hearing “I wouldn’t wanna be any place else.” People want to stay with you. You could be very prone to be caught in long-term relationships even if you don’t intend to stay for very long because people hold onto you so tightly.

You almost make people want to be willing to share cause they know other people want your time and attention and love to and they’re not ready to ever let you go on to someone else. The people are also saying that you’re very action-oriented and very driven and that makes them want to follow you wherever you go.

***

iii.

People could see you as very relaxed as well as very intellectually aware. They see you as very level-headed and smart. You’re someone people see as destined for success or someone who can’t help but be on top or come into a lot of good fortune within their lives because you’re just naturally very strong-minded and steady.

People may also see you as someone who isn’t afraid to take risks and is very brave in life. They see you as someone who is consciously aware of their inner calling in life and is intentional about the things they do and know exactly where they are going and that level of stability and knowing attracts people to you. It’s as if they’re saying if this person is stable and knows what they want out of life surely I can learn something and even if I don’t this is the person I want to spend time with.

Im hearing please don’t stop the music by Rihanna as well. People see you as a fun time or a night they never want to end when they spend time with you. People may also think you’re very good to sleep with as well like after a night with you their world is rocked and they want to stay right where they are. People see themselves enveloped by a little bubble while there with you. Nothing else matters. Nothing else is important. This energy really reminds me of Bed Peace by Jhene Aiko and Childish Gambino.

People feel as though you have a thirst for life, like you’re challenging the status quo, like if the world were to shift or change or if everyone woke up one morning and decided they were gonna do what they wanted to do, not go to work, not go to school, eat whatever they wanted, kiss the person they loved or be in any way spontaneous it would be because of you. I’m hearing “you’re a firecracker.”

People are attracted to you, seduced by you, because of the freedom you offer them. You radiate self-love and expression and they desire to be in that energy themselves. You’re like art. Like the countryside or loud jazz music that’s being overheard from the window on a long summer night.

***

these messages were really sweet, made me love you. Okay, good morning, good night, or good evening lol, I love you and I hope this was what you needed. Be sure to book a personal reading with me by going to my Instagram and clicking the link in my bio if you wish to have a reading with me personally. ❤️

#self love #self care #self improvement #self discovery #dream girl #self expression #healingjourney #self healing #manifestation #divine feminine #divine masculine #pick a card reading #pick a pile #tarot reading #tarot #tarot readers of tiktok #tarot readers of instagram #tarot readers of tumblr #what people think of you

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rollingsins · 1 year

Text

all hers, part i

summary: “I’d kill everybody in this town before they’d take you away from me.” Tara says, eyes wild. “I’d kill everybody in the world. You belong to me.” ghostface!tara

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, possessive behavior, vaginal sex, murder of an OC character), smut.

word count: 4.2k

a/n: for anon, who requested some smutty, possessive ghostface!tara. very, very fun to write, let me know if you want me to write some more ;)

Four murders in seven days.

It was a nightmare. You’d heard the stories, sure. Seen the movies. But you’d never thought it would actually happen to you.

That’s what you got for transferring to Woodsboro of all places.

Your phone buzzes as you finish locking the remaining doors. It’s Tara. You smile instinctively as her name flashes across your screen.

where are you? still coming over?

You look outside. It’s dark already, and the thought of leaving the house when there’s a lunatic running around scares the shit out of you.

not tonight sorry, baby. lost track of time. don’t want to leave Chase here by himself.

You contemplate asking her over. Her sister is in town, and you’d been trying to give them some space to reconnect. Sam was with her, you assured yourself. Besides, the last thing you wanted was her leaving the safety of her home and getting attacked.

“YN! Popcorn ready?”

You drop your phone to the counter, check on the popcorn in the microwave.

Chase had been your first friend at Woodsboro High, before you’d met anyone else, even Tara. Since you’d started dating her, you hadn’t seen him much. He’d asked you over tonight - your parents were out and he didn’t want you on your own. He’d had a hankering, in somewhat bad taste, to marathon the Stab movies.

It was nice being with Chase again, even under such terrifying circumstances.

You tell him so.

“You know why that is, right?” He laughs, shoveling a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Your girlfriend hates me.”

You roll your eyes.

“She does not.”

“Does too. Every time I see her she gives me these eyes.”

He squints, twists his face into an angry glare.

“Like she wants to kill me.”

“You’re imagining it.” You tell him.

Throw a kernel of popcorn at him.

“Uh huh.” He says, turning his gaze back to the movie, “Sure.”

Talking about Tara had always been weird with him. He’d had a thing for you, back in the day, when you’d first met. He’d even asked you out once. But you already had your sights set on Tara and nothing could deter you. He’d taken it well-ish. So you’d thought.

“How are things going with her, anyway?” His voice casual. You look over.

“Good.” You say. “Great. Why do you ask?”

He doesn’t look away from the TV. Shrugs, but it’s tense. Like he’s trying to appear more non-committal. You suddenly feel uncomfortable.

“Just wondering.”

The movie plays a little, you let awkward silence wash over the room. Peer down at your phone. No response from Tara. Maybe you should have gone to her house after all.

“I-” He says suddenly, then stops. Purses his lips.

“What?”

“It’s nothing.” He says. “Nevermind.”

You stare.

“What, Chase?”

“I just get a weird vibe from her sometimes. That’s all.”

You blink, caught off guard.

“You don’t know her.” You say, instantly defensive. “There’s no vibe. She’s perfect. She’s the perfect girlfriend.”

And she was. She picked you up everyday at 8am on the dot to drive you to school. She walked you to class, held your books for you. Showered you with affection.

“She’s possessive.” Chase says. He’s looking at you now. Words spilling out of him like they’ve been pent up for a while. “You just don’t see it because you’re all moon-eyed for her. It’s not normal. It’s like you're her special toy and nobody else can play with you.”

“Stop.” You say.

“She’s isolated you from all your friends.” He continues. “You used to play soccer, remember? What happened to that? What about dance? All the things you used to love. You don’t do them anymore. Your whole world revolves around her.”

You stand up. A lump rises in the back of your throat. You’d come here to watch movies with an old friend, not have him berate you about your relationship.

“That isn’t true.” You say, “With school, I just don’t have time for those things anymore-”

“Because when you’re not in school, you’re with her.” He presses. “And she wants you with her all the time. Like I said, possessive.”

“Great to know how you really feel.” You say. Grab your phone.

“Sorry, YN. The truth hurts.” He slumps back into his seat, stares at the TV again. “Where are you going?”

“Bathroom.” You mumble.

You open your phone when you reach the bathroom, go straight to Tara’s contact.

She’s opened your message, but hasn’t replied.

“Great.” You say aloud. Your perfect girlfriend has left you on read.

You contemplate calling her, asking her to come get you. No. You chew on your bottom lip. You could just leave, chance an encounter with ghost-face. You decide against it. You’re annoyed with Chase, but not that annoyed.

You wash your hands. Head back downstairs. Flick Tara another message.

You’re not mad, are you? Love you. Wish I was with you instead. xx

Chase hasn’t moved. He looks up when you enter, looking a little sheepish.

“YN-”

“Don’t worry about it.” You say. Sink into the sofa, as far from him as possible. “Let’s just watch the movie.”

And you do. Forty minutes of cheesy dialogue and bad acting and not a word from Chase. You like it that way. You keep glancing at your phone, waiting for your girlfriend’s response. But nothing.

The movie’s over. You can hear the credits rolling, but your eyes are drooping. Half gone. Your phone long abandoned, Tara’s reply nowhere to be found. You’re dreaming of Hawaii in the summer. Pina colada in hand. Tara dressed in a bikini, waist deep in the water. Kissing her in the sand, not a care in the world.

Then you hear the crash.

Your eyes jerk open. You sit up. Startled. You look around the room. The TV has shut itself off. Chase is nowhere to be found. There are noises coming from the foyer. Your heart beats, fast. You look wildly around the room. You want something to defend yourself with.

You settle on a small wooden zebra. Some useless ornament only Chase’s mom would decorate with. It’ll do.

You hear scuffling. More crashing. Then, Chase’s voice, shrill - scared.

“Please! Stop!”

Your ears ring. Terror rips through you as you make your way into the hallway, quietly as you can.

Chase is on the floor, writhing, both his hands wrapped around a curved, silver dagger.

Your stomach drops.

It’s Ghostface.

Your bottom lip trembles. You want to run. Scream. Hide. All at once. But you can’t. You’re rooted to the spot, transfixed.

Ghostface raises his arm, steady. Then slams his dagger straight down and through Chase’s chest. Chase cries out. Blood gurgles from his lips. Ghostface stabs him, twice, then three times. Crazed. Possessed.

Your body gives way. You let out a scream. Topple backwards into the hallway cabinet.

Glass smashes around you. Ghostface looks straight at you.

Your back hurts from the fall. You writhe desperately on the floor, trying to get up. The Zebra has slipped from your fingers. Tears tumble down your face.

In your peripheral, you see Ghostface abandon Chase. Head straight for you.

You cry out as he makes a grab at you.

“Stop.” His voice is contorted, unnatural. He’s using a voice-changer. That same awful voice from that dumb movie you’d just watched. You sob as his hands tighten around you.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Don’t struggle.”

You flop out of his grip, kick up just in time to take the Zebra in your hands.

“I’m not here for you, stop-”

Your fingers tighten around the Zebra. You use all your force to smack it hard against Ghostface’s head. You hear him cry out. Fall back.

You’ve hit him hard. He clutches at his head as he falls back.

There’s a clang as his mask hits the ground.

Your breath hitches in your throat. Your chest seizes painfully. The Zebra in your hand slips out of your grasp and hits the floor.

“Tara?”

She looks up at you, her eyes wide, like a deer in headlights. Tears prick at the sides of your eyes. You blink.

She swallows. Stands upright.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” She says. The voice changer is gone. The sound of her voice makes you want to weep, “Don’t be scared.”

She edges towards you, slowly. As if you’re a baby rabbit that might startle at any moment. You see the gleam of her dagger in her hand. Still wet with blood.

“Tara.” You say again, voice trembling. You take a step back. Panic floods through you. How can this be happening?

“It’s me.” She assures. “You don’t have to be afraid. Look.” She holds out her hand, drops the dagger to the floor. It careens over the carpet. Stains it with blood.

She inches closer. You don’t realize just how close she is before she’s reaching out, tugging you into her open arms. Your body locks up. The shock, the panic, the lump at the back of your throat. Everything spills over. You blubber into her chest as she holds you tight.

“Shhh. It’s okay baby.” She comforts you, hands rubbing tight circles across your back. You want to push her off. You want to run. But you can't, you're frozen, all you can do is bawl. She tilts your head up to her. Rubs her nose against yours. She smells metallic. Like blood. She’s covered in it, you realize with a start.

You tremble.

“Don’t be scared.” She repeats. Strokes her fingers along your cheeks. “My pretty girl. I would never hurt you.”

Her eyes are wild. Pupils blown. No trace of your sweet, loving girlfriend. You don’t recognize the person in front of you. You want her off you. But you don’t dare push her away. She presses you into her. Over her shoulder, you see Chase’s lifeless body. His glassy eyes stare up at you.

“He’s dead.” You say. Tears leak like acid from your eyes. Tara holds you tighter.

“I know.” You feel her lips graze the side of your head. She presses a lingering kiss there. “I’m sorry you had to see, darling. I thought you were asleep.”

A whimper emerges from your lips. Tears fall hot and fast down your cheeks, your hands limp at your side as she holds you. Cradles you.

“Why?”

She pauses. You feel her tense.

“Because they wanted you. All of them. They wanted you, but I’d never let them have you. Because you’re mine.”

And it clicks. There had been four victims so far. The first was Dan and his brother Sam, both boys you’d known since elementary school. Both who’d had crushes on you.

Then there was Aaron, your first kiss. Then Sadie, your first girlfriend.

Your bottom lip trembles. They were all dead because of you.

Tears roll down your face. Your body starts to shake.

Tara shushes you, pulls back only slightly to wipe away your tears. She’s so tender, gentle, you almost forget the bloodied body you’d just watch her maim lying in the corner of the room.

“Don’t cry, sweet girl.” She presses her lips to your forehead. “Here. Look.”

She steps back momentarily. Shimmies out of her black robes. She’s wearing your old varsity soccer t-shirt underneath. Your sweatpants. The necklace you’d got her for your one year anniversary. She looks like herself again. Your Tara.

Your bottom lip trembles.

“See. It’s just me.”

It makes you cry even harder. How could this be real? You’d just watched as your sweet, gentle, loving girlfriend had driven a knife into someone.

Tara. How could it be Tara?

“I know, I know, baby. It’s okay.” Her arms are around you again. She holds you as you sob. Every instinct in you screams to run. To get away from this deranged psycho who just killed your best friend in front of you. But you can’t. She’s the only one you want to run to.

You press yourself into her, tears soaking through her shirt. She cradles you, you feel her lips ghost your forehead.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this.” She says, “I’m sorry, baby girl. I know it’s a shock.”

She holds you a while longer. Until your eyes are red and dry, nothing left to cry. Your heartbeat still hammering against your chest.

What do I do?, You think. Where do I go?

She was calm now, much calmer than you. But that could change in a heartbeat. If you ran, she’d chase you. Maybe even kill you too. That look in her eyes, black, terrifying. You hiccup against her.

What the fuck do I do?

She rubs your back. Draws away from you just enough to wipe the rest of your tears from your face. Lets her fingers linger on your cheeks.

“Come here.” She dips down before you can protest. Presses her lips to yours. You don’t resist. Electricity flows through your body. Your stomach flutters the way it always does when she kisses you. Your body wants her just as it always does. Guilt flushes through you. You draw back, hold her at arms length.

“I can’t.” You pull back, a fresh wave of tears rising. Your stomach turns. “I think I’m going to be sick”

Her hands grip your shoulders.

“It’s okay. It’s alright. Hey. Look at me.” She’s firm, suddenly. You look up at her through glistening eyes. She softens her voice again, brushes your hair out of your eyes.

“I’m going to clean this up.” Her head jerks to the body near the corner of the room. “Then I’m going to clean you up.” She strokes the side of your face. Scratches on your cheeks from the glass.

“And then I’m going to take you to bed and make love to you. Show you just how much I adore you. Alright? Will that make everything better, sweetheart?”

Revulsion rises in your stomach suddenly. Her hands on you feel heavy. Suffocating. Your cheeks flush hot with emotion.

“No. Don’t you dare touch me.” You say. You shake off her hands, take a step back.

The words startle you as much as they startle her. Hurt clouds her features for a moment. She tries to smooth it over, tilting her head.

“Baby. You don’t mean that.”

“Yes I do. I don’t want you near me. Not after what you’ve done.” You back up, pressing yourself against the wall. Part of you wants to make a grab for the dagger but she’s too close. Besides, what would you do with it anyway? You weren’t like her. You weren’t a killer.

Tara blinks. Her eyes fill with something you don’t recognize.

“You’re just confused.” Tara says, voice hollow. “I know it’s hard to get your head around-“

“Please. Go. Just go.”

You’re shaking. Tara stares. Her bottom lip twitches. You recognize what’s behind her eyes this time. Anger. Irritation.

“You want me to go? After all this. After everything I’ve done for you?” For the first time, her voice is trembling. She looks angry. Hurt. Confused.

“For me?” You ask. Your voice rises. “You killed my best friend for me?”

“For us.” She urges. “Don’t you see - there’s no distractions anymore. No one else. No one is going to take you from me.”

She’s moving closer again. You don’t want her near you. You eye the door, move before she can stop you.

“YN!”

You run. Blood rushing in your ears.

She calls your name again, but you don’t look back. The front door is locked, so you sprint for the back. You can’t think straight, can’t trust your own emotions. So you trust your instincts.

Run. Run. Run.

You reach the door, fumble with the handle. Your heart in your throat. You twist it madly, but it doesn’t budge.

“Come on!” You cry out. You twist again, but it’s too late.

You feel her hands on your waist as she grabs you.

You struggle against her, screaming. The sheer force knocks you both over. You scramble up, trying to stand but she’s too quick. Her hands wrap tight around your waist, pulling you back down to her. She grabs your wrists, holds them tight over your head as she climbs on top of you.

“Get off me!” You cry, but she doesn’t. Squeezes you down tighter.

Wild eyes stare down at you. Her eyes, usually the softest brown, are wide, saucer like. Her eyebrows knit together as she pleads.

“Please, baby, stop.” She begs. “It’s me. It’s just me.”

She’s smaller than you, but she’s so much stronger. She’s always been stronger than you. It used to be hot, the way she could hold you down with such little effort. Now, it terrifies you.

You try with all your might to push her off but she only grips tighter. A frustrated sob emerges from your lips. She presses you against the floor. You feel her lips on your forehead as she shushes you.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart.” She says, voice so tender you almost forget she has you trapped in a vice grip. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Then let me go.” You wail. Your body goes limp. There’s no point in struggling. She’s too strong. “Please, Tara, just let me go.”

“I can’t do that, baby.” She says. Her voice soft, almost apologetic, “I love you.”

You whimper, pathetically. Your mind whirls, going a mile a minute. There’s no way out, you realize. She’s stronger than you. She’s faster than you. And she’s hopelessly and desperately in love with you. She’ll never let you go.

Your breathing evens out.

“I love you.” She says again, voice barely above a whisper.

Her breath is hot, against your mouth. You shudder. She presses her lips to your cheek. Nuzzles her nose into your neck.

“I love you.”

Her lips press into your neck. A hot jolt of energy sparks between your legs. Even now, after everything she’s done you can’t help but want her. You start to cry again.

She tilts herself up. Looks at you, really looks at you.

Gone is the manic, crazy killer who just chased you down a hallway and stuck a knife in your best friend. Her eyes are wide, that soft, sweet brown they always are.

There she is. Your first love. Your high school sweetheart. The girl who had taken your virginity. Tara. Your sweet girlfriend, Tara.

“I love you.” She whispers, a final time. Your heartbeat slows, steady. Your eyes flicker down to her lips. She notices.

She lingers above you only a moment, before she leans down and captures your lips.

Heat flushes to your cheeks. Butterflies erupt in your chest.

Warm, warm, warm.

Is all you feel.

You groan into her mouth. Confusion flashes through you once again.

“Stop.” You murmur against her lips. Soft. Half-hearted, like you don’t mean it. She pulls back.

“Stop?” She asks. Voice low. Like she knows what you’re going to say.

Your breath hitches. Her hands loosen their grip on your wrists. Her weight on top of you suddenly feels erotic.

“Don’t stop.” You whisper, and she claims your lips once again.

Your kisses build, feverish. Desperate. A mesh of lips and teeth and tongue. You loop your hands through her hair, pull her tight against you.

Her hands loop under your shirt, tug at your jeans. You pull hers off first, wanting her hot and naked against you, groaning at the heat of her skin against your own.

All thoughts of Chase are gone as you slip your hands into her underwear. She’s wet already, gasps as you circle her clit. You press warm kisses to her jaw.

She presses you back onto the floor. Tugs your underwear down your legs. Her fingers dip down to your heat.

“Tara.” You gasp. She nuzzles herself into your neck. Presses, wet, sloppy kisses down your jawline. Her fingers brush your clit before she sinks her fingers inside you.

She groans. Kisses you deep.

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight. So wet.”

“Tara.” You gasp. Her fingers curl inside you, her thumb rubbing gently over your clit. She kisses you again. Works her fingers deeper into you.

“Does that feel good, baby?” She asks. Her voice is graveled, thick with want. You moan out as she hits just the right spot.

“You like that? You like my fingers inside you?”

You nod, madly, clawing at her back, trying to pull her closer.

“I like it too, baby. It’s my favorite thing in the world. I’d do anything to be inside you.”

Her eyes are black, hazy, lust filled. You kiss her deeply.

“I’d kill everybody in this town before they’d take you away from me.” She says, eyes wild. “I’d kill everybody in the world. You belong to me.”

You moan.

“Tell me.” She says, “Tell me who you belong to.”

“You, baby.” You gasp.

“That's right. All mine. Every inch of you.” She growls. Her hand movements are steady. Angry. Pounding into you. Your hips jerk with each thrust, your cheeks red.

“Nobody else is going to touch you. Not ever. I’m the only one who gets to do this.” She says. Her eyes are starting to blacken again, jealous at the thought of somebody else sinking inside you.

“No one else.” You pant. “I promise.”

She growls, takes a nipple in her mouth. Bites down hard. Her fingers drive into your pussy.

You moan her name. It relaxes her a little. She slows her pace, dipping down to kiss down your stomach. She nuzzles against your thigh, lovingly.

“Who can blame them?” She says. She reaches up to touch your face, presses a gentle kiss to your belly. Her fingers pump in and out at a steady pace. Her fingers coated in your wetness. “My perfect girl. Always so beautiful. Who wouldn’t want you? I want you all the time.”

She dips down, presses kisses to the tops of your thighs, rhythm steady as she fucks you. A low moan escapes from your mouth as she licks a long stripe down your center, stopping momentarily to wrap her lips around your clit.

Your thighs clench around her head but she keeps your legs pried open. She sucks you only a moment before she’s grinning up at you, debauched, slipping a third finger inside your dripping cunt.

“I wish I could spend every waking moment inside this gorgeous pussy. Always so pretty and tight and wet for me. Always throbbing around my fingers. Squeezing. Trying to keep me in you, isn’t that right?”

Her eyes gleam. Her pretty red lips sticky with your arousal.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you, baby? You’d like me to be in you all the time.”

“Yes.” You groan.

“Dirty girl.” She chides. Her head dips down again, and you throw your head back as she sucks on your clit, hard.

She releases you after a moment. Lips back on your thighs, fingers pummeling up into your g-spot.

Your stomach coils. She sucks on your thigh leisurely, her fingers slamming into you with no mercy.

“Mine.” She says. “Say it.”

“Yours. All yours.”

Her arms grip tight around your waist. She licks her way up your length, not stopping the force of her fingers.

You throb around her, so close. She presses kisses to your thighs as she works you to the edge.

“You going to come for me, baby?” She murmurs, lips on your clit, “Good girl. That’s it, sweetheart. Come in my mouth.”

She sucks your clit, hard, and you topple over the edge.

Your back arches. You let out a low groan as your orgasm washes over you. She works you though it, lovingly sucking, her fingers curled.

You slump back onto the floor as she presses kisses to your belly. She keeps her fingers in you as she leans up, kisses you so tenderly.

“Good girl.” She murmurs. You sigh into her mouth. You can taste yourself on her lips. It’s intoxicating. She presses a kiss to your neck.

Draws her fingers out of you. You whine. She smiles, sucks you off her fingertips.

“Don’t worry baby.” She murmurs. Brushes a lock of hair off your sweaty forehead. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Your heart beat slows. She shuffles herself off you.

Wraps herself tight around your waist, drawing you into her.

Your eyes draw to the robes of the floor. The mask. The dagger. Chase is here somewhere, dead in another room. And you just fucked his killer.

Shame floods through you. Your body tenses. She can sense it. She turns you in her arms, pulls you into her bare chest.

“Shh. Don’t look, baby.” She coos. “I’ll clean it up.”

“He’s dead.” You say. More monotone than anything. In the last thirty minutes you’ve felt every possible emotion you could ever feel. You’ve cried every last tear. You’ve fought and struggled and lost against your own desires. You’re exhausted.

“It’s alright, babe.” She senses your resignation. Presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Now it’s just you and me. The way it should be.”

She tilts your face up to hers. You let her press a kiss to your lips. Close your eyes.

“I’m all yours, baby.” She says. “And you’re mine. Forever.”

You nod, slowly.

She is, there’s no point in denying it.

Next part

#scream #jenna ortega #fanfiction #mine #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #ghostface!tara #wednesday #wednesday x reader #ah

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