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mypoisonedvine · 2 years ago

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"𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙄'𝙢 𝙜𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙙𝙤 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪." | dark!jackson rippner x reader

(I'm sorry but also no I'm not because wes craven knew exactly what he was doing when he put that line in the movie... he fucking knew...)

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 | after following you for weeks as part of his job, jackson got a few ideas in his head about making you his, but finding out you had a boyfriend meant he needed to change his approach.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 | just under 9k (wow what the actual fuck)

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 | DARK NONCON SMUT (18+ only, don't keep reading if you're not physically or emotionally mature enough to manage your own content consumption please and thank you), knife kink, stalking, forced exhibitionism, forced infidelity, humiliation, vaginal and anal sex (whoops), pain kink/painal, ass to pussy (god this fic is disgusting lmao), hair pulling, brief breeding kink/forced breeding, some angst but really it's just filth

once again, this is a dark character being dark and I don't wanna hear y'all acting brand new about it so no hate please. that said, if you do enjoy this (which I very much hope you do) please consider reblogging to support my work :) comments are especially appreciated and literally make me so so happy!!

Following you was just part of the job— and Jackson did not like his job mixing with his personal life.

The problem was, he hadn’t had much of a personal life lately. No time for it; one or two hook-ups, women he met in bars, but that’s it. And believe it or not, he wanted more than that. Nobody would accuse Jackson of being sentimental— not really an attitude you can have when you organize illegal weapons sales and political assassinations— but he wasn’t made of stone. He wanted to be able to share at least part of his life with someone… or, you know, have a nice set of legs waiting for him at home that he could get between every night. Either, or both, would do.

It was an unfortunate coincidence that his realization that he wanted a girlfriend, or at the very least a plaything of his own, came right around the same time that he started to follow you. He was only doing it to pick up on your habits, figure out a way to get to you so he could blackmail you into being his inside man for his next job. It was supposed to be pretty simple: you were a museum events coordinator in charge of an upcoming lecture series which would feature a speech from a Bolivian presidential candidate who was unfortunately unfriendly to cartels. The American government not only endorsed him, but had him under incredibly tight security. This speaking event was going to be a rare chance to get to him in a public space without metal detectors, and Jackson was being compensated generously to ensure your museum would let a few extra attendees in the back.

But see, the Bolivian presidential election was the last thing on Jackson’s mind as he watched you through your window. His eyes drifted all over you, mesmerized by the way you prepared yourself for your day— styling your hair in the mirror, smoothing the wrinkles in your white button-up, pulling those stockings up your thighs…

He caught himself biting his lip and shook it off, straightening up in the driver’s seat of his car; he knew he should probably leave then, beat you to your work and then wander into the museum to feign interest in a few artifacts before striking up a conversation. But he loitered a bit longer, letting himself imagine how quickly he could rip off those clothes you were so thoughtfully dressing yourself with.

Eventually, he managed to pull his attention away from you and start the car, sighing as he tried to remember his plan of attack for ‘accidentally’ meeting you later today.

The museum might’ve been interesting, if he wasn’t so distracted by you. He was loitering, hands in his pockets, pretending to look at the paintings and artifacts as he waited for you to be near enough to strike up an innocuous conversation with. Early in the day, he saw you give a tour to a couple considering the museum for a wedding location, but kept his distance— it could be a while before you were available and he didn't want you to notice him yet, or he'd have to justify having been in the museum all day by himself.

For the first time since he’d started this job, Jackson felt slightly nervous to speak to you. It was always a big step, going from following someone to actually approaching them, but usually it didn’t give him any specific emotional reaction. Sure, he might feel a certain amount of pressure to do this correctly lest he blow the whole thing by tipping off his target, but he never was worried something would go wrong. This time, though, he felt his heart picking up every time he glanced at you from across the museum, closer to you than he’d ever been. His palms were even a bit clammy when he saw you walk by and realized this was the moment he needed to strike. God, did he really have a crush? How pathetic… but he couldn’t worry about that now, he was about to lose his chance as you brushed by him quickly.

"Miss?" he got your attention, gently touching your shoulder through your shirt as you passed by; you seemed a little startled by the physicality, yes, but not exactly offended.

"Oh, um— can I help you?" you said. He’d heard you speak before, on the wiretap and all, but it was a little different in person like this— and directed at him.

"I was gonna ask you about this sculpture, if you didn't mind," he explained with a gentle smile.

"Oh, well, one of our dosants would love to talk to you about our collection—" you began, starting to look for the closest staff member designated to help him, but he interrupted.

"So, you don't know anything about the stuff here?"

Your attention moved back to him and you smiled to hide your obvious defensiveness. "No, I do," you assured, "I actually am uniquely equipped to tell you about this sculpture: I studied Incan art specifically during my master's program."

He gave his best 'quietly impressed' face and nodded; he knew he could get you with that, you had kind of a know-it-all thing going on, which he happened to find annoyingly attractive. "Alright, then tell me about it," he challenged.

"Well," you sighed, crossing your arms as you looked at the piece, "we got this one a few years ago, it's actually a ceremonial vessel— there’s the llama head and the bird on this side here, those were both animals with a lot of cultural significance…”

As you pointed out elements of the vessel, he leaned in ostensibly to look at where you were gesturing— but it was all an excuse to get close to you, warm you up to him.

“They would’ve used this to pour essentially a form of beer on the ground,” you continued, “in hopes of increasing the strength of the crops and fertility."

"Fascinating," he smiled at you, and you didn’t back away when he stood closer. Like fish in a barrel. "How old is it?"

"It's estimated to be about four or five hundred years old,” you explained.

"Wow," he nodded, looking at the stone carving behind the glass again. "It's interesting to me that humans have always made art— and always been superstitious. Though I have to be honest, if I was living before the invention of birth control I don't think I'd be praying for fertility."

You smirked a little, and he hoped he hadn't gone too far— but it was fun to look at you and know what you must be thinking about. He could only hope that you were thinking about it with him in mind.

“Jackson, by the way,” he introduced himself, “my name’s Jackson. It feels unfair that you’ve gotta wear the nametag and I get to be anonymous.”

You laughed a little, glancing down at the silver nametag on your blazer and then back up at him. “Fair enough; welcome to our museum, Jackson.”

“So, wait,” he tilted his head, “forgive the late reaction here, but— if you’ve got a master’s degree of that caliber, how’d you end up as an event planner?”

“Well, believe it or not, the position does require historical knowledge,” you explained. “I started in curation, though— just moved to events because I was too cooped up in the back offices… I like meeting new people.”

Although Jackson would never consider himself particularly empathetic, he did think he had a decent sense of people— specifically, when they were lying. And that felt like a lie— a white lie, maybe, but still. A lie you were telling yourself most of all, that this was what you wanted to do. And it wasn’t that he really thought you disliked your job, moreso that his two weeks of following you did not indicate you harbored a strong desire to meet new people. You were a total homebody: rejecting offers to go out for drinks or dinner from friends and coworkers, staying up late watching TV instead of hitting the town or something, shrinking into your room every night and staying there until it was time to go to work again. He’d only seen you leave your house once that first weekend, and it was to pick up groceries— that’s it. No hot date, no concerts… almost no social life at all. Either you stayed late at the museum, or you went home.

And he also found that annoyingly attractive. Jackson, after all, was a workaholic himself; he imagined he would go out and do fun things, if he had the time, but right now nothing sounded better than going home and cuddling up with a sweet girl like you, being lazy couch potatoes together, resting after a long day of espionage, cyberterrorism, actual terrorism, and whatever else his work day got him up to.

….Jesus, when did he get so goddamn sentimental?!

“It certainly seems like a unique job,” Jackson replied.

“Every day’s a little different,” you agreed.

“Sounds like my job,” he snorted, “but I don’t work with other people much— I think it would be more entertaining with other people around. Especially when they can tell me everything there is to know about Incan art.”

“Okay, I don’t know everything,” you backpedaled, not seeming to really notice the larger sentiment of his statement, “but I can certainly hold my own. I like to think we all have something we know a little too much about, and could ramble for ages about.”

“Yeah, I hope so, or we’re just weirdos,” he chuckled. “For me it’s probably cocktails. I’m not an alcoholic or anything— I actually don’t drink that much, just socially, you know— but I have this thing where I can guess anybody’s favorite drink order.”

“Oh?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he smirked, “but hold on, I can’t guess yours until I really get the vibes.”

“Oh,” you nodded, “yeah— vibes, sure.”

“Hmm,” he pondered, narrowing his eyes as he looked you up and down, biting his lip like he was really thinking about it.

Here was the hard part: he really hadn’t seen you go out for drinks this whole time, so he was actually going to have to guess. Of course, the fun part of this game was not actually getting it right— if anything, it worked better when he got corrected. All he really needed was to get you alone long enough to tell you who he really was, what he needed from you, and how he was going to motivate you to do it… but if he could actually seduce you first, that would be a hell of a bonus.

“I’m thinking something a little sweet, not too fruity though,” he thought aloud, “something classic— you have an old soul, I think.”

You seemed to be a little surprised by that analysis, but he figured that meant he was mostly right.

“Your cocktail of choice is, obviously, a sidecar,” he announced.

For a second, he thought he might have got it from the way you smiled, but then you started to laugh. “You were on the right track,” you admitted.

“Damn,” he snapped his fingers in playful frustration. After a pause, he realized, “you’re not gonna tell me?”

“I figured I’d give you another guess,” you explained.

“Or,” Jackson countered, “I could take you out tonight, and you could show me yourself. Your drink order, I mean.”

Alright, that was forward, but he figured he’d been doing well so far. Instead, though, you tensed up a bit, causing Jackson to knit his eyebrows together for a moment. “I would, really, but, I have plans tonight… with my boyfriend,” you said.

He swallowed behind a barely-suppressed frown. Following you for all this time and he hadn’t noticed any boyfriend; were you lying just to get him to back off? You’d seemed so flattered before. “Oh?” Jackson tried to get out in his most neutral voice. “That’s great— is he taking you somewhere nice?

“Even better,” you blinked quickly, a shy smile lifting your face. “He works here at the museum, but he’s been gone almost an entire month to pick up some artifacts from around Eastern Europe… hasn’t even been able to use a phone out there. So he’s promised to come over and give me a first look at everything he got, and apparently he’s brought something just for me, so…”

“That’s sweet,” Jackson replied, willing his nostrils not to twitch. “Nice to know he was thinking of you all the way over there. I travel a lot for my work, actually, and it’s… hard to find somebody loyal these days.”

You nodded in agreement, sighing slightly. “Yeah, it is.”

“I mean, gone for a month, no communication, no reminders of you— just out there surrounded by opportunities and nothing keeping him from them,” Jackson went on. “That’s a lot to get through without at least one drunken encounter.”

You furrowed your brow, looking at him with a sort of grimace. “I… I guess,” you mumbled in reply. “I do have a lot of work to get done so I think I’ll just let you explore,” you decided.

“What if I have more questions about the pieces?” he asked.

“Try reading the little plaque underneath it,” you suggested flatly, already turning and walking away.

Jackson watched to leave for a second before scoffing to himself. Bitch. But it didn’t make a difference anyways: one way or another, he was going to get to you— for the sake of the job, of course. Although this boyfriend character was certainly a spanner in the works of his secondary plan to get you in bed, Jackson had to admit that he was ultimately an advantage for his actual purpose with you: an attachment, something he could exploit to get what he wanted. Do what I say, or he gets hurt.

Of course, he knew he should use that to make you be his inside man for that stupid lecture series— he wasn’t going to get the second half of his payoff until the cartel had their chance to make an example out of the visiting politician. But, as a small smile crept over his face while he walked out of the museum, he realized that he could use his leverage for so much more than that.

The door was unlocked when you got home; beaming, you realized it meant that your boyfriend beat you here, and was likely waiting for you just around the corner.

“Babe?” you called out, shutting the door behind you and shirking your purse and blazer to set down on the wooden credenza.

And yes, he was waiting for you around the corner alright, but you gasped in shock and felt your stomach sink when you saw him. He was bound to a chair with zipties, restrained at his wrists and ankles with tape over his mouth, looking a bit roughed up and absolutely terrified.

“Oh my god!” you gasped, running to him, but he oddly seemed to pull away from you as much as he could when you tried to break one of the ties. “What the fuck, what’s— oh my god, are you—?” you rushed, not even knowing where to start and just focusing on freeing him. But he just kept letting out muffled grunts and shaking his head— like he didn’t want you to keep going. Of course, you’d been so shocked by it that you hadn’t even considered why he looked so scared, why he seemed to want you to get away from him: whoever did this was still in the house.

It seemed obvious in retrospect, but it was too late now; you screamed when someone grabbed you, but the sound was muted by a hand over your mouth. “Shh,” a voice beside your ear soothed as a blade pressed to your neck. “Nobody’s going to get hurt if you behave.”

Your boyfriend hung his head defeatedly, and you thought you heard the sound of him crying though it was hard to tell.

“You missed him quite a lot, didn’t you?” the man asked, and you wrinkled your brows together as you wondered how he could’ve known that he was gone for a while. “Left you all alone here, poor thing— probably got all worked up, lonely, needy… like three nights ago, when I saw you through your bedroom window, touching yourself."

Your face burned with humiliation— not even that he saw you doing that, really, but just knowing he'd been watching you for god-knows how long. That made you feel more violated than anything.

“Wanted to help you so bad,” he purred, “but I had to wait. I’m not waiting anymore— you’ve got me feeling pretty fucking impatient these days.”

You kept thinking about what you could do to get him away from you— his feet were just behind yours, you could stomp on his shoe and hope it hurt enough to distract him, or maybe you could wrench your elbow back into his side— but with the knife at your throat, you were afraid that he’d be faster than you if you tried anything. “Please just— don’t hurt me, please,” you begged, whimpering a little, not sure what else to say at a time like this.

“Oh, honey,” he cooed, “you sound so sweet when you’re scared.”

It was the way he said that word: sweet. It reminded you of before, something you’d done your best to forget about all day. Something a little sweet, not too fruity— that weird guy at the museum, he’d said it just like that. “Oh my god,” you breathed, “it’s— it’s you.”

“You remember my name, don’t you?” he smiled.

“Jackson,” you recalled, “you— oh my god—”

“I’m sure you’re a little relieved,” he chuckled, addressing your boyfriend with a grin as you turned your head enough to look up at his semi-familiar face. “She was so into me when we met today at the museum,” Jackson informed him proudly. “You wanted me to fuck you then, didn’t you, baby?”

“No I fucking di—” you began to deny with a sneer, but he quieted you with a finger over your mouth— of course, a finger from the hand still holding the knife, to remind you exactly why you should stop talking.

“Now, try anything, I might just have to hurt you— or, better yet, your shitstain boyfriend over there,” Jackson warned. “I’m just waiting for an excuse to break a few of his fingers. Don’t give me one.”

Swallowing, you shut your eyes for a longer moment— you couldn’t believe this was actually happening, like one of those horrific news articles you read before bed just to torture yourself. Like one of those horror movies guys think are campy and fun but give you the most awful sick feeling because that could really happen. And now it was really happening, and your first thought was somehow to wonder what you did wrong to let this happen.

“So, are you gonna be a good girl for me?” he asked, tilting his head down to look at you questioningly.

You nodded, but he wasn’t satisfied.

“Say it.”

“Yes,” you answered quickly, and he snarled with frustration.

“No, baby, say it like I said it,” he insisted, his tone a warning not to test him again.

“I’m gonna be… I’m gonna be a good girl…” you choked out.

“Whose good girl?” he taunted, and you groaned as you shut your eyes, feeling him pull you closer to him and press his face close to yours.

“Yours! Your good girl,” you spat out, breath picking up as you heard him purr against your cheek. “Jackson— please, you don’t… you don’t have to do this. Please don’t do this.”

You shivered as the knife pressed against you again and moved from your neck down to your shirt, gently slicing off the top button and exposing a little more of your chest. “Mm, but I want to,” he explained, “wanted you since I first saw you.”

You hated the realization that he likely first saw you quite some time ago, before you ever knew he existed, and that he’d been waiting for this ever since then.

“I think it turns you on, knowing I can do whatever I want to you,” he presumed, cutting off a second button from your shirt.

“Please just go,” you begged, starting to properly cry as his teeth grazed your neck. “You’re right— you can do whatever you want. I can’t stop you. Isn’t that what you wanted to prove? Just… just don’t make me—”

“Make you?” he repeated. “No, no— you wanted me. I could tell. Only thing stopping you was him.”

He pointed towards your boyfriend with the knife in his hand, who looked devastated and horrified to say the least.

“You could do better, by the way,” Jackson informed you. “You should be with somebody who can really treat you right.”

Another button fell to the floor; your bra was visible now, baby pink lace, and your nipples hardened from the cool air on your skin— that, and the way Jackson’s breath fanned across the nape of your neck.

“Are you getting wet for me, baby?” he whispered to you as his knife trailed delicately over your skin, tracing the curve of your breasts. “Think it’s time for me to finally give you what you need?”

You took a deep, but shaky, breath as you tried to put on a brave face and brace for what was to come. “My… my bedroom is upstairs,” you whispered, and Jackson laughed in a way that made your skin crawl.

“Oh, eager already,” he taunted.

“I just wanna get this over with,” you insisted.

“Sure,” he said facetiously with a mischievous smirk and a wink to match; you felt like you were gonna be sick. “But bedrooms are a little, you know… basic? That’s probably what you’re used to, real traditional stuff: missionary, in the bed, in the dark, for a few minutes on weekends only. That’s the vibe I’m getting, at least. You’re not used to being with somebody romantic— you know, spontaneous.”

He turned you around to face him, making you yelp a little as he spoke by your ear.

“Somebody who just has to have you; right here, right now,” he cooed, running his tongue along the outside of your ear before suddenly kissing roughly along your neck.

“N-no, please,” you begged, imagining the humiliation you were in store for if he really did fuck you on your living room floor in front of the man you loved. “Please, I— I said I’ll be good for you, just— take me to my room, please.”

"No, baby,” Jackson purred as he held your chin, “let’s show your little boyfriend here what you look like when a real man fucks you, huh?"

Whining, you jerked your arms forward to try to break away, but it only ensured the bruises his fingers would leave on your skin.

A second later, you were shoved to the ground, and he was on top of you wearing a wide grin. You could hear your boyfriend kicking and screaming in the corner, but your attention was more focused on Jackson starting to open his belt.

"Fuck! Get the fuck off of me!" you yelped, kicking and shoving as hard as you could and finding each one more helpless than the last. "You— you fucking piece of shit!"

He smacked you across the face only to pull it back harshly by the jaw, glaring into your eyes. "Better be careful with that dirty mouth," he warned, shoving two fingers between your lips until you gagged on them. "Don't need to wash that out with soap, do we?"

As you choked, you shook your head, hoping it would be enough of an apology to get you some air.

"How about come?" he joked, making you gag for more than one reason, and he laughed at the tears that rolled down your temples.

He took his fingers out of your mouth and reached down to his fly again, letting out a small satisfied sigh as he freed himself. You sobbed a little when you accidentally caught a glimpse of his erection in his hand; he grunted when you tried to push him off again, and responded by grabbing both your wrists and pinning them down above your head. He hummed as he stroked himself a bit, looking down at you trapped under him.

“Thought you said you were gonna be good for me,” he recalled, chuckling when you bit your shaking lip. “You sure you don’t need me to hurt Romeo over there, give you a little motivation?”

You shook your head. “No— I’m sorry, I’ll do what you say. Don’t hurt him.”

“Open your legs,” he ordered.

Hesitantly, you lifted your legs up a bit and spread them, cringing at the happy groan you heard when your skirt started to roll up your thighs.

“Don’t move your hands,” he warned before he let go of them, leaning back and looking down at you: spread out under him, his for the taking.

He snapped off the last few buttons of your shirt, humming when your torso was exposed further. His hand started at your neck and ran down to grope your chest through the lacy bra; he purred, pinching your hardened nipples until you were forced to react.

Pulling it down, he took a quick breath at the sight of your bare tits— his chest rising and falling— and he set his knife aside to knead them both with a hum. "Been thinking about these for a while…" he mumbled. You gasped when he leaned down and captured a nipple in his mouth, suckling with a wide mouth as you scrunched your nose and looked away. Still, it made your insides pulse when he swirled his tongue around, only to pop off a second later and move to the other. "Damn," he breathed, leaning back again to move his attention lower.

Starting at your knees, he rubbed your legs carefully, moving a little higher every time until he was gripping needily at your thighs; his own breathing was a little faster as he did it.

You hadn't exactly imagined how this would be, obviously, but you still were surprised at how long he was taking. Was he just trying to build up the anticipation to scare you? Or was it for his own benefit?

He was gentle for just a few seconds before suddenly flaring his nostrils and ripping your stockings open. Through the new hole in the fabric, he rubbed your panties and you bit down on your tongue to avoid crying any harder.

“Fuck,” he breathed, then laughed, as he pet your cunt through the lace— they matched your bra, of course. Your boyfriend was coming back from a long trip, you’d wanted to do something nice for him… that idea backfired completely. “All dressed up, matching and everything… you’re too good to me, babydoll.”

You were about to correct him, make sure both of them knew that this had nothing to do with Jackson, but your open mouth only let out a gasp when Jackson pulled your panties aside to touch you.

“Oh, baby,” he groaned when he slid two fingers between your lips. “So wet. Fuck. When’d you get like that, huh? Hmm, it was the knife, wasn’t it?”

He looked over at your boyfriend and gave him a terribly smug look while he slipped a finger inside your hole.

“Women like a sense of danger,” he informed the tied man flatly. “But… I think your girl likes it even more than most.”

You flexed on his finger, turning his attention back to you, and he licked his lips as he slipped another finger in until you winced.

“That’s too much for you already, baby?” he noticed. “Fuck, I might break you…”

He curled the fingers inside you, clearly trying to get you warmed up for him, and you shut your eyes tight in hopes your face wouldn’t show any reaction. There was a sense of relief when he stopped and pulled his fingers out, but it didn’t last long since the next thing he did was grab your jaw and press those fingers to your lips.

“Ever tasted yourself before?” he asked, and you tried to turn your face away but it was useless. “Come on, it’s good, I’ll show you.”

He licked his own fingers first, moaning in satisfaction as he did it.

“Fuck, it’s sweet,” he promised. “Now you try it.”

This time, when he put his fingers to your mouth, you opened it and let him push them inside. He slid them over your tongue, watching you with dark eyes.

“Suck them,” he instructed you quietly, almost a whisper, and though your cheeks burned you wrapped your lips around his fingers and hollowed your cheeks. “Mm, that’s it— see, you can be a good girl. Knew you could.”

You were panting a little, for some reason, when he took his fingers away, leaving your mouth slack and wet. He brought his hands down to his fly to finish freeing his cock, and you looked up, to the side, basically anywhere but at… that.

“Look at it,” he encouraged you, and you shook your head. “Don’t you wanna see it before I put it inside you?”

You figured you could get him to shut up if you just did it, so you went ahead and took a glance down at his erection in his hand, only for a terrified whimper to catch in your throat.

“I can tell what you’re thinking,” he grinned. “Trying to remember the last time you had a dick this big, right?”

Trying to figure out how that’s supposed to fit.

“Get on your hands and knees for me,” he demanded suddenly, sitting back enough to get you room to do it.

You hesitated, and he suddenly looked angry as he grabbed your wrist and yanked you up a bit until you yelped.

“Go on! Hands and fucking knees, did I stutter?” he ordered, louder.

You were a little sore and weak all over, and it became even more apparent when you awkwardly got up off the floor; you avoided your boyfriend’s gaze as you took the position, opting to just stare down at the rug under you instead, suddenly fascinated by every detail in hopes it could somehow distract you from this. From the feeling of him delicately pushing your skirt up over your ass and his hands all over you, from the way he pushed your knees apart with his own and settled between them, from the sick drop in your stomach as his cock’s head rubbed over your clit and lined up to your opening. Yes, it sure was a riveting pattern on this rug alright…

But, of course, Jackson wouldn’t let you get through this that easily. “Beg for it,” you heard his firm voice from behind you.

“Jackson, come on, I—” you choked, “I— just—”

“It’s okay, babydoll, go on…” he egged you on, as if shyness was the reason you were hesitating.

“Please…” you began, shutting your eyes tightly. “Please fuck me.”

You tried not to react too much when he pushed inside, but it was big, and he himself let out a husky groan at the feeling as he filled you. You managed to stay silent at first, but a little squeak came out halfway through, and it turned into a loud sigh when he was all the way inside. “Fuck,” he breathed, dropping his head back with a breathy laugh. “Fuck, it’s tight. Guess that’s what happens when nobody’s here to treat you right— and I don’t just mean because he was out of town. I can tell nobody’s given you what you need in a long time…”

Before you could wonder what could possibly make him capable of telling that, he took a tight hold of your hips and began to fuck you— slower than you expected, but not quite delicate.

Shaking, you tried to keep yourself propped up on your wobbly arms as he set his pace, and tried to keep yourself quiet while he did this. The last thing he needed was any more reasons to think you liked this.

Still, you couldn’t fight the whimper that came when he suddenly slammed himself into you, rougher than before; your thighs even quivered for a moment. “Fuck,” you choked out, under your breath, and he hummed back at you as he sped up a little.

“Not too deep, is it?” he asked, though it didn’t seem like he was actually concerned for your well-being (obviously). “Not used to anything this big, huh?”

You were afraid he was going to force you to answer that, but instead he surprised you by putting a hand between your shoulder blades and shoving you down; you gasped and grunted when your chest pressed to the floor, your face thankfully turned to the side against the rug— but unfortunately, it meant you were looking right at your boyfriend. You had to shut your eyes, too ashamed that he was seeing you like this.

“There, you like that better?” he purred as he held your hips up against his, but the new angle only forced him deeper until you were choking on nothing with every thrust. Your hands searched wildly along the floor for something to hold onto, but eventually just had to settle for gripping the rug for dear life. “Mm, fuck, s’good— you feel so fucking good, baby…”

The compliment sent an unwilling shiver up your spine, and your back arched even deeper than he’d forced it to. It was too much, it was all far too much, but your toes were curling inside your (ruined) pantyhose and you bit down on your lip without thinking about it.

“Oh, see how much she likes it?” Jackson grunted, apparently still addressing the captive boyfriend in the chair— you really wished he would just leave him out of this. “Fuck, what a pretty little whore…”

Not only could he switch from sickly-sweet to rageful in a moment, but you realized that he could somehow seem to be both at once. Still spitting out praises and insults all at one, he fucked you rougher and meaner as your moans— pain or pleasure, you couldn’t tell anymore and you didn’t want to— grew louder. He kept getting more aggressive— harder and faster, harder and faster— until you were all but screaming and you couldn’t keep your hips up anymore. Each thrust pushed you down until you were flat against the floor, but he kept fucking you and holding the back of your neck. One thrust seemed to go too deep suddenly, and you yelped as you reached back to try to grab his thigh out of instinct.

“Shh, shh, s’okay, baby,” he assured with a hiss. “Fuck.”

But he kept doing it, kept fucking you deep (if a little slower) as you whined and shook under him. “Jackson,” you heard yourself breathe, “please— I-I can’t—”

“God,” he growled, “say my name again. That’s so hot.”

You hadn’t meant it like that, but now it was too late. “N-no,” you tried to deny, but that didn’t last long as he grabbed you by the hair and forced your head up, laying over you enough to speak right against your ear.

“Say. My fucking. Name,” he spat.

“Jackson,” you choked out against the strain on your throat from having your neck cranked back like this. “Jackson, f-fuck—”

He groaned and dropped your head, propping himself up so he could fuck you faster again; his gaze moved down to where his body filled yours, where each thrust made your ass bounce under torn pantyhose…

As he slowed down for a moment, panting, you wondered if maybe it was almost over— maybe it already was, but that seemed too good to be true. He was still holding you down just as hard, anyway; he put his whole weight on your arms as he turned to look at your boyfriend tied up in the chair.

"Does she do anal?" Jackson asked him point-blank.

Your struggle renewed as you screamed angrily— but you couldn't keep it up, it fell into a helpless sob a moment later. Your boyfriend didn't give much of an answer— couldn't, really, on account of the duct tape— just kicked around against his restraints again.

Jackson shrugged as he looked down at you crying under him. "Well, you do now," he decided, pulling out and spitting into his hand.

You’d never felt so helpless, laying there on the floor while he pushed his fat tip up to your puckered hole. “Please,” you begged for mercy, but you didn’t even have the energy to lift your head from the rug and it was all muffled and pathetic.

“It’s really not that bad,” he insisted as he started to press forward, but your whole body jumped and you let out a loud whine when his head slipped inside with a sort of pop— all that pressure giving way to a sick, stinging stretch.

“Oh my god oh my god,” you whimpered, feeling goosebumps break out all over your body from the sharp pain. “I can’t— please, I really can’t—”

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m gonna go real slow,” he promised under his breath, moaning loudly as he pushed in a little deeper. Laying on the floor like this, there was really nowhere for you to go, no way to run from the feeling. “Just breathe, long slow breaths— focus on staying relaxed.”

Frustratingly, it was actually pretty good advice; it certainly didn’t make it painless, but when you shut your eyes and thought as much about breathing and as little about anything else as you could, it helped.

“See? Just relax, babydoll,” he whispered, but relaxing could only do so much as he slid the rest of the way in and you felt like your whole body might go numb. Your eyes rolled back, your insides (all of them, it seemed) flexed, your heart was pounding… you felt sick, and disgusting, and used.

He breathed heavy as he laid his weight on top of you, slipping an arm under you to wrap around your shoulders and neck.

"Fuck, that's a tight fuckin' ass," he grunted, laughing a little as he glanced at your boyfriend, slowly beginning to move again. "This one's got you spoiled, huh? How'd a loser like you get your hands on a perfect fucktoy like this?"

He bit down on the shell of your ear as he picked up his pace quickly— way too quickly— and soon he was growling each time he slammed his hips against your ass. You couldn’t even tell what noises you were making anymore…

"But you're gonna be mine now," he whispered to you. "Oh fuck, s'all gonna be mine. Gonna fill these pretty holes of yours every fuckin' day."

You dropped your head down defeatedly onto the floor, though shocks of pain were still making your fingers and toes curl while he roughly fucked your other hole.

“Yeah, fuck, you fuckin’ like it,” he snarled as he fucked you faster. “Needy little slut. You like getting all your holes filled, huh?”

You simply bit down on your lip, not realizing it wasn't a rhetorical question.

"Answer me," he insisted.

"I-I don't like it," you said— quietly, because if you spoke any louder it would've been mostly unintelligible with sobs.

"Huh?" he taunted, leaning in closer.

"It hurts, Jackson," you choked, pleading.

“No?” he noticed, feigning shock with heavy sarcasm in his tone. “Are you saying you don’t like it up the ass?”

“Please, please,” you choked out, “fuckin’ hurts— god, please, hurts—”

"You don't like it, sweetheart?" he cooed at you, cloying condescension dripping from every word as he roughly pet the hair out of your face. You whined and shook your head. "Well, I could always put it back in your cunt, would that make you feel better?"

He chuckled at your grimace of disgust.

"Is that too dirty for you?" he wondered, clicking his tongue. "Aw, it's okay, just gonna give you what you wanted— hold still, baby."

You winced when he pulled out of your ass, only to whine as he slid back into your cunt; you hid your face, feeling how absurdly warm it had become from all this, and tried not to think about how dehumanizing what he had just done to you was.

He picked his pace right back up when he entered you, letting out a deep groan of satisfaction. "Oh my god you're fucking dripping, is that from being fucked in your little ass?" he noticed. "Jesus Christ, wettest fucking pussy I ever had... somebody likes it dirty, hm?"

You wanted to deny it, but he wasn’t lying about your physical reaction; you were soaking, and you didn’t even know why. It wasn’t like you found much pleasure in that experience physically, it was rather agonizing— and then there was the thought of it, of knowing you’d been used that way, and it just made you feel dizzy and weird. Regardless, it was true… your body responded even when your mind was running in circles convincing itself there was nothing enjoyable about this.

“Such a pretty thing,” Jackson purred at you as he sped up again, shaking your whole body against the floor— that arm around your shoulders was the only thing keeping you from being pushed away, and he held you tightly like he really was worried you’d get away somehow, even though you’d stopped resisting quite a while ago.

At least it didn’t hurt anymore— except that you were still a little sore, and he was holding you too tight and his weight made it hard to breathe, and you were probably going to get rug burn, and you felt disgusting. But in a literal sense, it hurt less.

“Think I need to turn you over and get a good look at that pretty face,” he decided, pulling out of you and rolling you onto your back. Maybe it was just because you knew it was only for a moment, but being empty wasn’t as much of a relief as you expected. You were pretty much limp by this point, letting him turn you over and simply looking up at him blankly. “Oh,” he said as he smiled proudly, “look how fucked out you look— and I’m not even done with you yet.”

Lifting your legs and pressing them against your chest, he slid back in until he was deeper than you thought possible, and you gasped and shivered helplessly. “F-fuck, wait—“

He started to fuck into you quickly, and you nearly screamed, reaching down to try to hold his thigh or push him back or something to keep him from going so far inside you, but nothing deterred him. For how drained you were a moment ago, the shock of this gave you renewed energy, and you hated feeling your walls bear down on him in sick, overwhelming pleasure. “Oh god,” he moaned, “so fucking good.”

As hard as you were trying not to be loud, your efforts were lost when he reached down and roughly rubbed at your swollen clit; again, you tried to reach to stop him, holding onto his wrist and pushing his hand away with all your strength, but he bested you easily and kept going. “Fuck!” you screamed. “Please, please— it’s too much, I—”

“It’s okay, baby,” he soothed, watching proudly as your back arched and your head tilted back with a gasp.

You hadn’t even realized you were building to an orgasm— you would’ve sworn you weren’t, before, but now you felt all sensitive and sticky, and his thumb on your clit was relentless, and the shivers that had been running all over you all evening were turning into hard, heavy jolts of— of something. Something you’d been holding back longer than you realized. Something you hadn’t felt in much, much longer than three weeks.

“It’s okay,” he kept encouraging you with a proud grin that turned into a growl through his teeth as he fucked you harder. “Show him what it looks like when you’re not faking it, babydoll. Show him who you really belong to now.”

“Please,” you cried, the word barely spoken and more just a shape you made around your cries. If he didn’t stop now, you wouldn’t be able to, either; you were spasming uncontrollably, inside and out, it was just getting worse and worse (or better and better, depending on how you looked at it).

It felt fucking good. You would die before you admitted it, but you didn’t have to— it was obvious. And it was overtaking everything now, even your shame, until for one impossible moment, you were completely shameless. You weren’t sure you had ever felt quite like that before— not just physically, but spiritually. Shameless. Even though all you’d felt until now was ashamed. “Good girl,” Jackson praised you, though it was sort of lost on you as you were coming down from a high that hit you hard enough to not even feel real until it was nearly over.

It was like time had slowed down, and then snapped back to superspeed, to hyperreality, when he finally pulled his hand away and let you have a small reprieve.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come, oh my god," he gasped, his voice getting oddly high-pitched as he said it. "Want me to come inside, babydoll, or paint that pretty face?"

“Not… not inside,” you warned, just conscious enough to remember that.

“Mm? Why not?” he smirked.

You were still blinking away the blurriness in your vision, panting, trying to process all that you’d just felt— so you really didn’t have any energy for stupid questions like that. “What?” you just asked groggily. “Why… why do you think?!”

He just laughed briefly— more like a hum— and kept going. Of course, you should’ve known he’d do it once he realized your boyfriend didn’t; but wasn’t it enough that you and your boyfriend used condoms and Jackson had already gone past that?

“Just— just don’t,” you begged again, shut up with a firm hand over your mouth suddenly as he grunted lowly above you with each thrust.

“Fuck,” he said, a sort of warning though it wasn’t specific. “Fuck!”

He bit his lip when it happened; you shut your eyes, not wanting to see his face all slack and flushed like that with his hair falling forward and his neck and jaw flexing. But closing your eyes only made the feeling inside you more undeniable: the rush of warmth, the flexing against your walls as he pushed himself in as deep as he could. You whimpered a little, though you weren’t sure it was audible to anyone but yourself, and Jackson sighed as he emptied himself into you.

He took his hand away with a deep breath, and all you did was let your mouth fall open and your eyes blink numbly— what else was there to do?

As he caught his breath, he laughed a little, very softly; he put his hands on the floor beside your head, propping himself up but letting his head hang down loosely for a second— he was still smiling.

“You’re… you’re really something else, you know that, babydoll?” he informed you.

You didn’t say anything, and he sighed again just before he pulled out— you both winced, for different reasons, and he took a moment to hold your legs open so he could look at what he’d done to you; you felt filthy and exposed like that, but you were too weak to try to stop him or even to close your legs.

“Now that’s just beautiful,” he decided in reaction to whatever he saw; you didn’t want to picture it, how stretched out and used up you must look, but you could feel his come oozing out, running down.

Some of the numbness was already wearing off, at least physically, and you were beginning to realize how purely un-ergonomic it was to get fucked on the floor. Your back and shoulders were sore, your legs were tight when you finally got to lay them down again after being held up for so long… you tried not to imagine how long you’d be feeling the effects of this, wearing bruises and feeling knots and having to know exactly where they came from.

“Come on,” he mumbled as he lifted up your limp upper body, pulling you closer to him. He held your face for a second, petting your cheek which was still a bit clammy with sweat. “Kiss me,” he demanded, though he said it somewhat softly; you didn’t actually sit up and do it for him, but you let him press his lips to yours and you tried your best to half-heartedly mirror his movements as he did it.

He held your head and neck more firmly and slid his tongue into the kiss, making you whimper a little but that was the end of your protest. You thought it was a little strange that he wanted to kiss you now, but maybe it was just a matter of claiming you in the final way since he’d pretty much covered all the others.

When he broke away, he brushed his thumb over your cheek and smiled at you sweetly.

It’s over, you told yourself, hoping to feel more relieved. It’s over, he’s finally done with you. You did it. It’s over. But as those words repeated in your mind, you only felt emptier than ever.

“Look at your boy over there,” Jackson mumbled beside your ear, a smirk on his lips as he shook you a bit with the arm around you. “You see it, don’t you? He looks different now.”

You dared to glance at your captive boyfriend, who you realized you hadn’t heard muffled protests from in quite some time. His eyes were bloodshot and swollen, but dark, too; his stare was heavy and piercing. You suddenly felt sick.

“He looks at you different now.”

You bit down on your lip as it started to shake; you felt worse than ever with him looking at you like that. Things hadn’t been perfect before he left— nothing’s ever perfect— but they were good, and easy, and now you felt like he hated you. But what had you done wrong? All you’d done was try to keep him unharmed by appeasing this awful, horrible person…

Jackson had already been speaking quietly, but he dropped his voice down to whisper as he rubbed your shoulder. “I don’t think he’ll look at you the same way ever again,” he posited, and you swallowed as your stomach dropped.

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” you whispered under your breath.

“He’s never seen you like that before,” Jackson explained, “and he understands now that he can’t do for you what I can.”

Jackson brought his hand to his own chest as he said that, but then reached up to wipe up another tear that rolled down your cheek. “Please,” you said, looking at your boyfriend though he wouldn’t meet your gaze, “don’t— don’t think that I— it’s not my fault! I didn’t want this to happen!”

“Shh, you don’t have to lie anymore,” Jackson cooed at you, “we’ve all seen the truth now, it’s alright.”

You were exhausted, you were devastated, you were too overwhelmed to even feel terrified anymore; you dropped your head onto Jackson’s shoulder defeatedly. After all you’d been through tonight, you were starting to lose track of what was real anymore.

He let you cry quietly against him for a while, petting your head, until finally breaking the silence. “Now, the thing is, there’s actually just… one more thing I need you to do for me,” he admitted, and you started to cry harder again.

“Please— please, I did everything you asked,” you sputtered out through your tears, “you took. Everything. From me.”

“Hold on, that’s not true,” he frowned, “you’ve still got your cuck boyfriend over there, even if he’s not quite what he used to be— you still love him, don’t you? Can’t help that?”

“O-of course I do,” you insisted, feeling oddly guilty as you said it.

“So, you don’t want me to hurt him?”

Even if this was the end— even if he would hold what was done to you against you, which would break your heart— you couldn’t have that on your conscience. You shook your head.

“I didn’t think so,” Jackson nodded, “you’re too sweet for that. I won’t hurt him, and I’ll let him go, if you promise to do what I ask you to.”

“What more… what more could you possibly want…” you breathed, shaking your head, trying not to imagine what else there was for him to do to you.

“Something a lot less fun than what I wanted before,” he smirked. “What I need from you now is purely work-related.”

You wrinkled your brows together with a sniffle as you began to slowly compose yourself. “Work…?”

“Let me tell you a little bit more about what I do for a living…”

#jackson rippner x reader #jackson rippner smut #jackson rippner dark fic #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #red eye fanfic

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ratioaven · 1 year ago

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spoilers for 2.1 !!!!!!!

aventurine rant, please keep in my mind that these are my own thoughts and interpretations. im extremely sleep deprived lol so im sorry if i got anything wrong

something thats been on my mind since yesterday are these lines.

from the start to me, it was very clear aventurine had self esteem/worth issues because of how he treats his own life, but the line that says “the other hand is below the table, clutching your chips for dear life” stuck out to me.

i always assumed aventurine was so incredibly confident in his luck but in reality he is afraid. he’s terrified that he’ll lose. it’s an act. he convinces himself, he fools himself, he forces himself to act like he’s confident he’ll win, when in reality even if he does win, he’s still clutching his chips under the table for dear life because of how terrified he is of losing.

that really messed with me to be honest. i feel tricked and what’s ironic is that he tricks his opponents into thinking he’s confident, and he also tricked ME the player but really, this made my heart break in two because i had absolutely no clue up until now.

so why does he act this way

all throughout his life, aventurine has had his pride stripped away. just try to imagine being in his shoes. i myself do not think i could deal with the situations he was put in. i cannot stress this enough, aventurine has a mark on his neck that screams to him that he has once belonged to someone. he has had his pride stripped away from him countless times. but it’s ironic because aventurine is introduced as a very prideful and flashy man. you start to realize the front aventurine puts on is his own way of protecting himself. it’s how he’s able to live basically. i wanna go into more detail but i will later.

as it was said before, aventurine is an uptight person who worries. he is extremely afraid of losing and he has a massive inferiority complex. aventurine may seem like a go lucky person on the outside, but in actuality he is not. he is not happy. he has no self worth, he believes he has nothing to live for, and he has no problem with throwing his life away. aventurine believes the only good thing he brings to the table is his luck.

but this brings me to my next point.

aventurine may not realize it, but he is so much more than his luck. he has so many good qualities and he doesn’t seem to realize it. even if some of it may be an act, he’s still able to pull it off. he’s still an intelligent business man who is both charming and cunning EVEN if it may be an act, those are still amazing qualities to have in his line of work.

but more importantly, aventurine chose to live. despite witnessing his family die, being a slave, and tortured, he chose to live. he chooses to. i cannot stress this enough. this man has gone through hell and back. he truly has had an incredibly difficult life to the point where my heart hurts so so badly for him. he made the decision to stay alive.

that says more than enough about his character.

and last but not least, aventurine wants one thing, and that is to be with his family. he’s witnessed horrible things in his life that no one should ever go through. he lost everyone close to him, he lost his people. he has nothing to live for and he values his life so little to the point where he has no problem with dying. the only real thing that he wants is just to see his family.

and he will one day, but in the meantime, i genuinely hope this man can find a reason to live, and ratio already gave him one just by that note. i just truly wish aventurine happiness while he lives the rest of his life.

i guess this is a topic that really hits me hard because i know all too well that choosing to live life isn’t easy sometimes and i just love aventurine.

let’s all appreciate how truly amazing his character is.

#i didnt proof read this #aventurine thoughts #aventurine #hsr #hsr 2.1 #hsr aventurine #honkai star rail

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hiraizyo · 6 months ago

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i hear your heart, now it’s racing.

pairing: lara raj x female reader

synopsis: you were very aware of how possessive lara could be and despite the obvious interest from others, you only had eyes for her.

tags: established relationship, high school au, fluff, possessive!lara, loser!reader, like two cuss words.

now playing: you belong to me, ari abdul.

a/n: came up with this after thinking about hot and sexy gf!lara. i need her to claim me so fucking bad... anyway, this includes reader being apart of the loser club with winter, yunjin and minji lmao. this is a lot longer than what i usually write, so get comfortable :’) apologies for any typos & as usual, happy reading!

at the sound of the school bell ringing you let out a relieved sigh, finally able to leave the place everyone thought was hell on earth. quickly packing up your chemistry textbook and pencil case, you shoved it in your bag, already standing up and walking away from the desk.

you rushed out the classroom, barely hearing ms. park’s voice over the cluster of her students hurried footsteps, all trying to make their escape. the walk to your locker was short, feeling lucky that the hallway wasn’t nearly as packed as you expected it be considering it was now the end of the school day.

when you reached your locker, it didn’t take long until another presence was beside you. with your peripheral vision, you see that it was minjeong.

“hey,” she greeted you. minjeong blew up a piece of her blonde hair, the bangs almost covering her eyes. “do you wanna come over after the gig later? i got new a lego set for us.”

she rocked back and forth on her heels, the excitement clear on her face.

you and minjeong were similar in many ways. both of you were more on the quieter side, preferring to observe rather than interact with others. you both took your studies seriously, being top of your class. you also enjoyed the act of building lego’s together, bonding over it after she’d brought it up one day after band practice. and, you were both what your girlfriends described as ‘a loser in a hot body.’ you didn’t understand what it meant, but lara claimed that’s what you were so you didn’t question it.

“can’t.” you replied, shutting the locker door. “it’s date night with lara, and we’re going out after.”

minjeong pouted at not being able to hang out with you. building lego’s together was her favorite pastime between sleep, studying, band practice and hanging out with her girlfriend.

you flicked her forehead at the sight of her lips jutted out. “stop that, jimin may find it cute but i don’t.”

“ouch!” she yelled, rubbing at the now sore part on her forehead. “you’re so mean.”

you snorted, “and you’re so weak.”

minjeong scoffed at your words as you began to walk towards the double doors of the school, her hand tugging on the sleeve of the brown and white flannel you wore.

“we can’t all be jacked like you, ass.” she complained, moving to sling her arm over your shoulder.

“you can’t even see it!”

“that’s the problem.” minjeong huffed, raising her arm in the air. “you see this? these noodle arms look exactly like yours, except mine doesn’t bulge out when i flex.”

you had a bit of a sleeper build, the muscles only showing when there was tension. minjeong made a grunt, bending her arm as if she was flexing in order to add to her point. you laughed at her, shoving her arm down.

“whatever.” you shook your head at her, leading the two of you towards your car.

when you reached the parking lot, minjeong pulled her arm off you and got in the back seat once you’d unlocked it, leaving the door open for any conversation that came up. leaning against the gray vehicle, you pulled out your phone, shooting lara a text that said you were waiting outside for her.

the redhead spotted you as soon as she walked out the double doors, saying a goodbye to her friends and reminding them of what time you’d be playing tonight.

she approached you with a coy smile, looking you up and down. “well, you look absolutely delicious right now.”

the possessive streak ran through her body, realizing that everyone at school could also see how good you looked.

a blush appeared on your cheeks as she snaked her arms up your neck and locked her fingers together. “hi baby.” you mumbled, pressing a sweet kiss to her lips.

minjeong couldn’t help the cackle that escaped her when she saw your bashful state. pulling away from your girlfriend, you scowled at her.

“i don’t know why you’re laughing, i’ve seen you gay panic way worse around jimin.” you shot back, while minjeong flipped you off.

lara giggled at the interaction, placing a kiss on your neck and walked around to the passenger side. you both got in the car and the drive to minjeong’s place began. you’d be taking her home first before making your way to your place with lara.

after dropping minjeong and starting the route to go home, you glanced to look at the indian girl, who busied herself with looking through stories on instagram. you placed a hand on her thigh, tapping twice to gain her attention.

“are you sure you wanna come with me? the girls and i have to be there an hour before.” you asked, double checking if it was still alright with her.

“yes, i’m sure.” she looked up, locking her phone and lifted her arm to place it behind your head, nails softly scratching the lower part of it. “i want to be there for you.”

lara was an extremely supportive girlfriend, which you were grateful for. even back when you were just friends she gave you her full support, coming to a few band practices and going to all your shows. it was one of the reasons you fell in love with her, among many others.

“okay.” you said quietly, sending her a grateful smile and continued the drive home.

“and now, introducing fallen angel!”

the loud cheers of the crowd had your adrenaline rushing as you stepped out onto the stage. you walked over to your positioned spot, eyes searching for lara in the dimly lit place. finally catching her gaze, she waved and blew you a kiss, your smile so wide it hurt your cheeks.

“woo!” the scream came from daniela, who sat to the left of lara at the round table.

yunjin chuckled as the clapping and cheering died down. she reached up to hold the mic, her raspy voice echoing through the speakers.

“hello, we are fallen angel, and we’ll be doing a cover of about a girl by nirvana.”

the crowd erupted in shouts once again, a few loud whistles here and there. when everyone settled down, yunjin did the count down in her head, then began strumming her guitar. she and minji were on vocals, with you playing the bass and minjeong on drums.

the crowd was hyped as the song played, all four of you feeding off of their energy. you smiled when you caught lara staring, feeling your heart hammer in your chest against your ribcage. you weren’t sure made you more nervous, playing in front of all these people, or the look your girlfriend was giving you at that moment.

lara sang along to the lyrics, her upper body moving with the beat as she turned to face daniela, screaming along with her. her confidence in you swirled around in her chest. she was so unbelievably proud.

as the song began to end, she told the kats’ she’d be back soon, getting up from her seat and swerved through the people. minji thanked the crowd for their support, a couple more cheers being let out. their loud noises were still ringing in your eyes when the four of you walked to the side of the stage that was hidden from everyone.

as soon as you saw lara, you carefully placed down the bass and hugged her tightly, pressing her body against yours.

“you did so well, baby!” she rubbed your back as a sign of support. her mouth was by the shell of your ear, breath tickling you.

“thank you, my darling.” you mumbled into her hair, closing your eyes for a second as you basked in the comfort she brought. “i loved seeing you out there.”

lara leaned back, your arms still wrapped around your torso, cupping your cheeks. she smiled brightly, her pearly white teeth on display.

“and i will be at every show until the end.” she whispered, leaning in until you felt her lips on hers.

the indian kissed you with passion, adrenaline now coursing through her veins as well. her lips were soft like always, the lipgloss making them sweetly sticky, but you were used to it at this point. your hands gripped her, squeezing gently. she broke the kiss, her smile even wider than before and she pecked your lips a couple more times before pulling away completely.

“ugh, you guys make me sick.” minji commented, taking a sip of water from her water bottle.

minjeong hummed in agreement, sitting on a chair that was off to the side, her legs stretched out. yunjin, who was busy packing her guitar in its case, turned to face the rest of the group.

“tell me about.” she quipped, tucking her dark blue hair behind her ear.

lara turned around in your arms, her smile now turning into one of amusement. she raised her up arm up until her hand reached your neck, hanging it loosely as she gripped the back.

“sorry, which one of us has a girlfriend again?” you asked rhetorically, knowing that yunjin still had yet to make a move on her crush.

she grumbled under her breath, harshly zipping the guitar case closed. yunjin walked off after that, stomping her feet on her way out. you snickered at her antics, always taking the opportunity to tease her about her single status, even though you knew without lara you would probably still be in the same situation as yunjin.

minji pulled a jacket over her shoulders, ready to leave as well. “i still don’t get how you two happened.”

“me neither.” you said, looking down at lara with an adoring gaze. she could easily see the love in your eyes, and it made her feel warm all over. “but i’m lucky to have her.”

the redhead felt her heartbeat stutter at your words, her own eyes shinning with deep affection for you.

“mh, you’re all mine.” she told you, her voice low. she kissed you once again, before stepping away from you, her hand falling from behind your neck. your arms unwrapped around her, intertwining your fingers together once she turned around to face you again.

“let me pack up real quick and then we can go, okay?”

she nodded, giving your hands a squeeze before walked away. your hands lingered together, outstretched until she was out of your reach.

you picked up the bass that was leaning against the wall and placed it in its case, zipping it up and slinging it over your shoulder. bidding a goodbye to the two other girls, you looked for lara in the mass amount of people. spotting her with her group of friends, you wandered over to her. before you could reach her though, a girl stepped in front of you, blocking the sight of your girlfriend.

“you were really good out there.” she grinned, the corner of her mouth curving upwards.

“uh, thanks.” you told her, accepting the compliment with gratitude.

her eyes trailed down your body, the black and red jersey you wore hanging baggy on you. the girl ran a hand through her hair, ruffling it and tilted her head to the side. she thought you looked unbelievably hot.

“i’m haewon,” she introduced herself, hand outstretched for you to shake. you took it gently, letting go after a second. “it’s nice to meet you.”

“nice to meet you too, haewon. my name is yn.”

she chuckled at your words, her voice dropping an octave. “oh, i know. i’ve seen you play before, one of my friends knows you from your school.”

haewon trailed a finger down your chest, but you didn’t pay any mind to it. you glanced over her shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of lara but the voice of haewon gained you attention.

“tell me, yn, have you ever written a song about someone before?” she questioned, her eyes quickly glossing over your lips.

“a couple, but i’m not sure if they’re good enough.” you told her honestly, holding onto the strap of the black case.

her hand dropped, and she stepped closer. you didn’t think anything of it, being completely oblivious to the tone of her voice.

“sounds like you don’t have the right motivation.” she leaned up, looking into your eyes. “if you want, i could be your muse.”

she was flirting with you, but you didn’t know that.

the oblivious look on you face made this even more fun for her. you were like an untrained puppy, being clueless to her intentions with you.

as you were about to respond, saying you already had one, lara came into view from behind haewon, her eyes sharp and filled with a fiery twinkle.

she’d noticed the shorter girl leaning closer from where she was with the girls, not even letting sophia finish her sentence before she was stalking over towards you. her jaw was clenched, feeling her body light up with jealousy and the territorial thoughts began to spiral.

“there’s my girl.”

she wrapped an arm around you waist, gripping tightly. yours immediately went over her shoulders, smiling down at her with a lovesick look. haewon was forgotten about in your mind, all your focus on the girl under your arm. lara’s mind, however, was screaming with foul words that she wanted to spit out at the dark haired girl.

she wanted to make her crumble, because who was she to flirt with you?

“oh hey,” you beamed, and lara tried not to rip a whole through your jersey with her nails when you gestured to the girl in front of you. “this is haewon, she’s a fan of the band.”

haewon fixed her stare on lara, eyeing her up and down. she gave a sickly sweet smile, waving.

the indian didn’t bother with politeness, a fake smile taking place on her lips. in a demanding tone, she barked at her. “back off.”

her fingers dug into the jersey, strongly pressing them against your side. you furrowed your eyebrows at her behavior, confused on why she was acting like. haewon was nice, thinking that she didn’t deserve the crude treatment.

“woah, lara,” you shot her a look, but she didn’t take her eyes off haewon, glaring at her. “i’m sorry, uh— again, it was nice meeting you.”

haewon didn’t give your girlfriend the satisfaction off backing down, shamelessly looking you over while lara tried to control her temper.

“likewise. i’ll see you around, yn.” haewon said, turning away from the two of you.

hearing your name falling from her lips, lara could feel her sanity slipping away. she was so close to tackling haewon, but the strong hold you had on her weighed her down. once the other girl disappeared into the crowd, you looked at lara with genuine confusion.

“what was that?”

she faced you, taking her arm away from your torso, and crossed her arms. “she was being way too friendly with you.”

“huh? but she was only talking to me.” you stated, thinking over the interaction in your head. your words caused lara to scoff.

god, lara hated how oblivious you were sometimes.

“i saw it, she touched you. leaning in close to you like she was about to kiss you.” her voice shook, the image of haewon’s finger on your chest burned into her mind. it only fueled her rage more, wanting to walk over to the girl and tell her off. “i’m the only person who gets to do that.”

now realizing how lara was feeling and the reason behind her behavior, you sighed. “baby—”

she cut you off with a light shove. it wasn’t forceful, but it was enough to have you stumble back, falling onto a chair that was placed at the bar, the case of the bass slid off your shoulder, it now being beside and you slipped the strap off completely.

the chair at the bar was one of those high stools, which made it easy for lara to step in between your legs as you widened them to make space for her.

the look in her eyes made you fearful, not that you were scared of her, more so of what she could do when she was like this. it definitely wasn’t the first time she’d been so possessive with you.

“listen very closely to me…” she started, her hand gripping your chin harshly. the many rings on her fingers were cold against your skin as you craned your neck upwards.

lara’s eyes were filled with a dark look, her jealousy getting the best of her.

“i don’t care what she said to you. you are not to talk to her again, you hear me?” you nodded at her words, the grip she had on you tightening.

despite lara being aware of your faithfulness, you still felt as if you had to reassure her. “you know i only have eyes for you.”

she chuckled. “i know that, but other people don’t. and i fucking hate to see them trying to take what’s mine.”

there was no denying how hot she looked right now, but you didn’t voice your thoughts as to not wanting to upset her further.

you brought her closer by the waist, squeezing them to let her know you understood. lara peered over at you, leaning down until she captured your lips in a rough kiss. her tongue danced over your lower lip, wanting access to your warm cavern. her tongue flicked over yours, all around the inside of your mouth. her hand moved away from your chin, up your jaw and behind your ear until both hands were in your hair where she tugged cruelly. lara used them to pull you away from her, smirking devilishly at your flushed state.

you were breathless, feeling lightheaded from the angry kiss. your heart was beating rapidly, body temperature rising. the place suddenly felt hot, and the jersey wasn’t helping either.

lara ran her thumb over your bottom lip, the color red and bruised.

“let that be a reminder of who you belong to.”

possessive lara pls save me 🙏🏼 hope y’all enjoyed, i’m taking a much needed nap now.. but sophia imagine coming up soon!

#katseye #gxg #katseye imagines #lara raj #lara x reader #girlgroup

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dilf-docs · 7 months ago

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Hello! I love what you write it’s amazing! ✨

Can I request an Eddie Brock one where the reader is her neighbor and they are pretty close and she’s in love with him but he’s still obsessed with Anne, and one day she sees him really sad (about Anne) and invites him to see her band and she starts playing (The one- The Warning) and idk something interesting happens:0

Take A Chance On Me

eddie brock x younger fem!reader

summary: being in a relationship with eddie is a bliss! except for when he mourns his ex relationship with anne, which unfortunately, seems to be pretty much all the time. in the middle of all that sulking, you come up with an idea. will you be able to make him choose you this time?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, situationship lol, so angst!!, sunshine!reader x grumpy!eddie (he's still mopping around), hurt/comfort, exhibition kink, fingering, oral (f. receiving), p. in v., riding, creampie, you can tell i've been listening to ABBA ijbol, no venom :(

word count: 4,394 words

side note: hi, tysm for requesting! since this request is very specific lol but has similar themes to my previous eddie work i decided to make it as a follow-up in the neighbours au; not a series yet but it was an interesting idea to add to their dynamic!!! hope you like it <3 in case you wanna read the previous part for context as to where this two are it's here

Ever since that night, your relationship with Eddie has grown. Hell, you may say you're a day away from being official any time.

And there are time's when you're so sure of it, like when he stops by your apartment and kisses you like there's no one else in the world; to later make you come hard with the lights off (hey! you gotta start a tradition or two).

But there are other times when you knock on his door and he doesn't open, only for you to use your spare key, finding the room scented with empty bottles, your neighbor mumbling something like Anne through his sad pouty lips.

Yes, Anne. A name that makes you seethe like it burns; a ghost that haunts the spaces of silence where Eddie seems to doubt what the hell is he doing: why is he there―with you.

Your heart feels heavy, and it feels sort of pathetic that it's his hurting what hurts you the most. In the end, things are like this: you love helping people, your empathy may be infinite and you're sure you've never loved anyone like you love Eddie Brock before.

So it's this combination of things that makes you take the following decision, hoping to make him pass the page, so whenever he gets drunk again, all his lips will ever whisper is your name over and over again; that his sadness belongs to him, and not the only person that seems to be keeping you away from your happy ending, even if they don't know about it.

To Eddie, you're the sweetest thing in the world. Nobody kisses like you do, hugs with the tightness you do, loves as much as you do, fucks as good as you do or bakes killer cookies like yours.

That list does nothing but grow, as he is constantly mesmerized by every new little thing he learns about you: your favorite movies, the new recipes you try (he's more than happy to beta taste them for you), the way you sing (you do have a good voice that made him squirm at the other secret talent you had) and your kindness, which has done more hurt than good lately: because Eddie can't fathom the idea of you, taking care of him during his sad drunken mopping nights, while listening to everything about Anne on repeat.

He knows it hurts you, that he's starting to create creaks in your relationship, the hope slowly fading away from your eyes each passing day, doubts creeping up your smile, erasing that shiny beautiful light of yours; it's the only thing stopping him from calling you his girlfriend, and still, he can't stop.

It's like a vice at this point, and he wonders if he'll ever sober out of it.

So today he knocks on your door, hoping to set things straight even if a part of his heart still beats for Anne. It may be selfish, but after you came in his life, he can't imagine it without you.

But when you open up, he's at loss for words.

"Why are you wearing that?"

You scoff. "Hope it's not an offense, judging by your tone"

His eyes roam over your body, and even if you tend to be more on the confident side, you can't help but feel shy. After all, he's never seen you like this before: all glam.

It's a jacket, well his jacket, a small black top and black very short shorts. You surely are playing the part tonight, switching your usual pink and sunflower bubbly style to something more... rock.

"Why?" is all he asks, and you feel obligued to answer. Besides, you were going to knock on his door after getting out, not expecting he did it first. The surprise is ruined, but his incredulous eyes suffice for now.

"So, my friend has this band" you explain, "and they just got sick. The thing is, they had a gig today in a bar where they're regulars, so naturally, cancelling at last minute is not an option"

"And?" you love how oblivious he can be sometimes.

"And, I found a replacement" his face remains blank, so you sigh a little dissapointed but deliver with chirp, "me!"

"You?"

You roll your eyes, "is there a problem?"

"No!" he corrects hastily, "I'm just surprised, that's all. I know you like to sing, and have a good voice! But there's a huge gap between that and well, playing in a gig"

"I know, but I used to have a band when I was in highschool; I'm used to this things"

His mouth falls a bit, and maybe his head starts to cloud with ideas of your clashing new style and angel like voice; or maybe it's you wearing his jacket, a garment of his for you to bear in public: a first. It's a bit stupid and too daydream-ish for his liking, so he blurts:

"I didn't know that"

Your laugh is so light, it feels like wind blowing across a field.

"Oh, Eddie baby" he blushes at the pet name and endearing tone, your voice dropping like it does whenever you want something he's more than willing to give you, "there's a lot you don't know about me"

In the end, you convinced Eddie to join you, who, if you're being honest, didn't need that much convincing.

He was sold just with the idea of seeing you sing, which intrigued him. There's a huge difference in your drunk karaoke nights that annoyed your neighbors and playing live in a gig. Eddie wants to see what you have to offer, and as for you? Well, this is your plan: your plan to make him forget about Anne once and for all.

It may be silly and immature but hey, you're young! It's okay to be wrong and possessive sometimes, and your friend just did you the favor of faking an illness to give you a spot to shine and put that voice of yours to use, that's a bit rusty since your highschool days. So, no pressure! Your potential boyfriend is on the crowd and ruining this would cost your kind friend their job. Good thing your optimism doesn't seem to expire, because Lord! Your hands are trembling and sweaty when you hold a microphone again for the first time in a little more than a decade.

"Hey" you exit out of the curtain, and the dim lights now bright up a little, directing themselves towards you, "good evening"

You hear a bit of muffled voices that sound confused, asking for your friend, and you can tell the crowd are regulars. Yikes.

"I'm here on behalf of Isha. They're sick, so I'm covering just for tonight" you decide to go for a little jokey joke to light up the otherwise judgemental room, that seems to be testing you―like they know all your weak spots; smell your nerves. "So don't like me too much, as I'm a one time thing"

Eddie laughs, but covers it with a cough when he realizes the room is awfully quiet.

"Okay, uh, for tonight's set, I've got a few things prepared" you fumble a bit with the papers where the lyrics are (you've always liked to be a bit old fashioned), like you're clumsy and it's your first time, not reflecting the fact that this idea has been simmering for a while―every song rehearsed and planned. "Songs, I mean, I've got a few songs prepared"

You start with something smooth, which makes people divert their attention back to whatever they were doing. To you, that's a bit dissapointing, but as long as they don't judge and Eddie keeps his eyes on you, you think you can make it.

But what where you really thinking? Being optimistic means you're often let down, as your pink bright ideas end up crushed by the real gray world. And you can handle it―as you're no weak, but resorting to singing a song that feels oddly specific about the situationship you're currently living in hopes of making Eddie forget his ex fiancée and get whooped by your mesmerizing voice is actually kind of crazy!

But yeah, now you're nearing the end of the set list and almost everyone's eyes are on you. Of course, Eddie is the most attentive, taking every word that pours out of your melodic mouth like if he's thirsty, and your voice is the only thing that can help him. He never leaves your silhouette, and it may be you dreaming, but there's something like guilt and love behind his eyes; torn. Yeah, you do feel like you're dreaming, and it's been so long since you felt this alive; you kind of forgot how happy singing made you.

As the crowd is engaged, you find it fitting to make a pause and announce the next song. You know your voice comes out as shaky, but hope people think it's about tiredness and not nerves. Why are you nervous, thought? People love you! It's because this is the final part of your plan: singing this song you used to be obssesed long ago, but now seems to perfectly sum up those raw, angry and vulnerable feelings fo yours you're simply not used to; they say music helps us put a name to that we can't, and that has never been more true.

"For the next song, well, our last song" a few booing echos in the crowd, and you can't believe you made it this far. Maybe Isha did lost their job, "it's called The One, by The Warning. Hope you enjoy"

Eddie's had such a blast tonight, he hasn't noticed the past of time, completely lost when you announce the last song. Among other things he's forgotten, is the fact he was supposed to talk today with you about the future of your relationship.

It's kind of your fault: how can he remain focused with such display in front of him?

The band begins playing, and soon, your voice fills the air:

I'll do anything to make it happen

Tell me your secrets, what are you hiding?

Some people sing along the lyrics, while others just listen attentively. You make it to a part of the song that sounds like:

Can you explain to me what's this feeling?Love it or hate it, it's never leaving. Want to believe, that you feel it too.

Oh, Eddie feels nauseous. The lyrics hit a bit too close to home, and he fills called out in the room of oblivious people.

He can hear your vocals breaking a bit, as raw as he's never heard before. He feels so bad, he's about to make the most ridiculous thing of his life and jump onto the stage to hug you, but he can't interrupt you. So he sits there, palms sweaty and nerves tense.

He's been dumb, but like, really dumb. Of course you know it: how can you not? He swears every morning after, his hangover unbearable, your kindness hurts more than his headache―because there's pain behind your eyes, and he knows you remember more what happened than he did. He feels undeserving of your compassion and all the care you give him, even if you know Eddie's still hung up on Anne.

There is no reason to even doubt it. Please, understand that I am not lying. My heart is true, it beats for you.

How can you still love him? Still root for him? How can you give him your heart knowing a part of his still beats for Anne?

Fantasizing that something might happen, always wishing that I was the one.

He feels torn, because he knows it's you he wants to be with. You're the reason his days have been brighter ever since he lost everything, the reason he smiles whenever his door knocks and why he isn't alone in this sulking anymore. So he hates the fact that he can't heal faster and move on, because that's all that's really stopping him from just being him and you.

Give me something I can feel, I'm too afraid to ask. What is it I need to change, for you to love me back?

He's done mourning but he knows grief doesn't pass in the blink of an eye. But he's sure of it already.

Say that you will really never hurt or leave me. Say it and it will come true. Hold me like you really love me: tell me that you do.

Those three words he's been holding back: afraid of feeling too much in such little time; afraid of thinking he would ever feel his heart beat for anyone else, the confession dripping from his eyes but not past through his sealed mouth.

And I know that I'm not the one on your mind. But still, I will be the one.

The song ends before he's registered, and amid the applauses, you leave the stage, almost running behind the courtain. The band bids goodbye and Eddie finds himself leaving his table and moving onto where the small improvised dressing room is.

He's done pondering. You will be the one.

You didn't plan to rush backstage like that, but tears started to burn in your eyes and it was getting harder to contain them infront of the crowd.

They loved your show, but you feel empty, even if a little relieved. There was a pressure before and now it's gone, but there's a thing that hasn't gone: the doubt.

You wonder if Eddie understood the words you feel like a coward for not voicing, the feelings that threaten to spill like a hot cauldron, the rage burning your throat when he talks about her, like she's all there is in his mind. Then comes the sadness; you can't help but wonder if he will ever choose you.

Tonight, perhaps, is the day all those what-if's will be answered, and their possible answers won't hunt you anymore.

It's like he read your mind, because there's a knock in your door and it's like you have memorized a bit too much of Eddie: the traces of his face―with wrinkles that mark the gaps in your relationship, the loud way in which he eats, the sounds he makes when he rides his bike, especially those when you wrap your arms around his; even the way his knuckles call for you through the door.

You clear your throat, trying to hide your broken voice. "Come in"

Eddie's face pops up, and all you can offer him is a weak smile. "Did you like the show?"

He tries to measure what he's about to say, because he doesn't know where to start, but the glow in his eyes betrays him, so he excitedly says: "It was great! I didn't know you had that in you, baby"

Even the pet name doesn't make the smile reach your eyes. Oh, he's screwed up for sure.

"Thanks" you mutter, small. You hate feeling like this: the last time you did, you were still in middle school. Your kindness was taken for weakness, and you promised yourself you would never let your heart be taken and used again. Yet here you are, hope planting a seed inside of you that's grown into a rose with thorns that pierce your sweet heart whenever it beats for Eddie. But you can't stop: the roots are too deep in you, and you can't find yourself to kill the flower that's bloomed out of this one-sided love.

"Listen, y/n" oh, he's serious. No petname or nothing. Maybe he's finally opened his eyes and realise this fooling-around-thing you've got going on isn't going nowhere; that your new isn't as exciting as it was before, and his heart will never be yours. You'll never be the one.

"Y-yes?" you can't fake it. Your voice cracks, so you avoid looking at him, "tell me, Eddie".

He shouldn't start with that, seeing the way your face fell and body shakes, even though you're sitting.

"Fuck. Baby, no" he coos, getting closer and dropping on his knees, forcing you to look at him by taking your face softly by the chin, "look at me".

When you meet his eyes and they're already glossy, he feels like he deserves a higher punishment than what any physical one could ever accomplish.

"No, no. Shit, I'm sorry" he tries wiping your tears with his thumb, but you keep on crying more. "Ah, fuck"

"Are you done with me?" you ask on a shaky whisper.

Funny saying that when you weren't even a thing. But you can't help and yearn for it; said what first came onto your mind.

"No!" he corrects, so quick and loud it startles you. "What made you think that?"

"The song-" you start blabbering, "No, I'm sorry Eddie, it's my fault. I shouldn't put on a show that's m-more like a tantrum if we're being honest. We're adults and we can talk, for God's sake! That was so immature of me. Let's just forget this and- I don't even know what to do or what to say, just, spare me from walking out or taking the elevator at the same time I do because it's just gonna be so embarrasing- please, if you're gonna break up with me, do it quick-"

He didn't want to, but he feels the need to interrupt your little rant by now.

"Y/n, stop" you feel even more embarrased now. You start to drift a little and begin considering to move out of the country and change your name. "Who said anything about breaking up?"

Ah, you feel stupid. Stupid, but hey! How can you not come to that conclusion? It's both of yours fault.

"Y-you didn't" you whisper, "but-" you try to reason yet the anger and embarrasment is a bit too much.

"I didn't yet I can understand why you'd feel that way" he sighs, "but let me explain, please"

With a nod, you motion him to continue.

"I'm the only one who should be saying sorry. You did nothing wrong, baby; in fact, your little solution to talk out your feelings surprised me a lot. In a good way! You know I love your voice. But anyways, as I was saying, I'm sorry about everything. It's just... it's not fair to you: you've been nothing but sweet, loving and the best girl I've met ever. I feel like I don't deserve you, and after tonight, if you choose not to stay with me, I'll get it. You're worth of much more than a sad, older and bitter nobody" he ends his sad little man speech, and you can't help it but leave your sit and wrap your arms around him, burying your face on his shoulder as you whisper lovingly on his ear:

"I know, Eddie" you stroke his hair gently, "but I'm not leaving you. Never"

He lets himself sink into your embrace, the perfume and sweat such an intoxicating smell, he's drowning in your scent already.

"Good" his voice turns husky, dropping an octave. The hard on his jeans doesn't go unnoticed, "because I wanted to give my rockstar a reward"

You laugh, and he feels better seeing you smile.

"Seriously, Eddie? How can you go from vulnerable to horny?"

"Both are states of vulnerable!" he defends, "besides, tell me that you don't want it" he motions for you to stand against the dresser, your back against the mirror, goosebumps in your skin when it touches the cool surface.

Eddie grips the flesh of exposed skin your shorts show, leaving a trail of kisses against the bare tights. He pulls them off, and you gasp out a contained moan.

"Someone c-could find us, Eddie"

He growls, his head in between your legs, the panties blocking him from your pulsating cunt. "Let them" he pronounces it so deliciously, you find it hard to resist the panic of being found; Isha will kill you if they found out, but hey, the plan was to get back with Eddie so in the end, it worked, right? Can't get mad at that.

The panties come off with a yank, and you can barely ask if he locked the door before his tongue gives the exposed dripping folds a generous lick. You arch your back at the pleasure that runs through you.

"Mpmh, Eddie" you groan, feeling his slow but steady movements. Your breathe comes out ragged, more when he uses his thumb to caresses the sensible zone with fast circles, making you cum with a cry, yet it muffles inside his mouth that captures your lips in a kiss.

You can taste yourself in his lips, but let him devour your mouth.

"Want more?" Eddie groans against your mouth, his fingers going inside you, softly touching the entrance. You moan against his lips, moving your hips greedily in response.

"Yes" you moan out, making him chuckle.

"Seems I'm not the only horny one here, baby" he mocks, "are you that needy?"

You huff out, annoyed at the accusation.

"Don't worry, you and I both know we love to help each other out" his voice is soft, "besides, it's been a stressful day for us, hasn't it. Let me make you feel better, baby"

His hand travels inside you, his middle and forefinger sliding lazily into you. You tense up, feeling him touch your clit, his fingertips stroking over sensitive tissues. He can see the mirror fogging, and if he didn't have his head in between your legs, he'd probably see his face full of your juices.

"Shit" his voice comes out of his chest, sounding rather gutural and animalistic. "God, how wet you feel, baby"

You mewl. But it's not enough, his fingers falling short: you need to feel all of him. Now.

"Eddie" you beg in need, "please".

"Please what?"

Your hands travel to his pants, undoing his jeans. His large palm stops you before you can reach his underwear.

"Say your words, baby" he taunts, and you hate the way your neediness leaks from in between your tights.

"Just... I need you, Eddie"

He gets rid of the jeans by himself, and you stroke his member covered by the fabric. You get rid of it too, and the next thing is your mouth saying: "I want to ride you"

Even in his haze, he reacts a bit, looking around the room.

"There" you point the chair you were sitting previously on.

He sits down, obeying without a word. You come close, gripping his member firmly in your hand. You pump from the bottom to the top, making him roll his eyes and throw his body back from the pleasure.

His eyes go blank as you sit over his dick, already leaking with pre-cum. Eddie grabs you by the hips, the veins on his arms more notorious, some tattoos popping up like they are 3D.

"You're beautiful" he mutters, and you feel like giving him a reward: so you grab his dick with your hand as his grip gets tighter.

He presses his tip against your fold, side to side, like if he was painting your tight walls with his juices.

He pushes the first centimeter inside, and as soon as you stretch out for him, he starts thrusting, getting a whimper out of you.

"Fuck" he curses, deep inside you. His body shakes, and you feel every single vibration provoked by the friction. You feel dizzy as you go up and down, the rhythm delicious. He keeps moving, his hips doing a circle, all to feel more of you.

"You feel so good, baby" he praises, in ecstasy. You keep moving up and down, covering his long. You bite back a moan, "might end up helping me more than I was going to help you"

He's fucking you silly, and your mind goes blank, so after the thrusts and his confession from before, you dizzy out:

"Everything is for you, Eddie; just for you. You're the only one who can make me feel like this"

"How does it feel?" he asks in a whisper against your ear, his thrusting getting sloppier.

"Feels so good"

"As good as you feel" he moans out, his breathe whistling through his gritted teeth. Your ads bounces against his tights, the sound of skin clapping in the tiny room a very obscene echo. "C'mon, baby. Make me cum"

You tighten with the plea: tights, stomach and ass. Your core is swollen, burning with each new thrust. Eddie keeps you tight as profound as his strong arms can; there'll be a bruise tomorrow.

He pushes all his length inside, keeping you open so he can bury himself deep in you, with strong thrusts against your shaky cunt. His jawline tenses, painfully close to his orgasm.

Your voice comes out muffled, "Harder".

It's funny how no one has even checked the room. No knock, nothing. You suppose they all went out their way when they saw you about to burst in tears, to give you space, a space you're pretty thankful for now.

"You're mine" he rests his forehead against yours, "say it"

His hips shake as you pronounce, "only yours, Eddie"

You can't contain it any longer. There's relief after the intense orgasm that shakes every bone in your body, overestimulation when you feel him cum inside of you, thick shots painting your swollen walls.

You let yourself fall into his arms, the chair creaking with all the weight. Sweat glistens as you try to get your breathe back, your heart beating so fast you fear you'll have a heart attack.

"Tell you a secret?" you hum tiredly against his shoulder, resting your head in it as his long thick fingers comb through your damp hair. You can't believe your plan made it this far, but since you're still in the haze, you can only nod and hum.

He gets closer to you, his hot breathe tickling your ear.

"You're the one, y/n" your heart beats even faster, and you hide your face against his hot skin so he doesn't see the new tears that are forming in your eyes: they're happy tears. "I love you"

Is this is a signal to sing and not voice out your problems? Who knows, maybe next time, if you sing Money Money Money by ABBA, you won't be so broke.

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif (unknown pinterest source)

#dilfistwrites #eddie brock #eddie brock x reader #eddie brock x you #eddie brock fanart #eddie brock imagine #eddie brock smut #eddie brock fanfic #venom #venom movie #venom symbiote #venom smut #venom spoilers #venom 3 #venom the last dance #marvel #marvel smut

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lj-lephemstar · 2 months ago

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Progress Checkup! (Apr. 2025) | Scratchin' Melodii Devlog

Hey there! I felt like it was time for another devlog, it's been a little longer than usual I think. I felt it was less of a priority since I'd just shown off a gameplay preview, so my deepest apologies to all 7 dedicated devlog readers...

First off, in case you missed it, Lucid Mode was shown off in a recent gameplay preview of Stir & Mix!

During stages, freestyling well enough on two consecutive lines will allow you to ascend into Lucid Mode, a state where there are no charts or suggestions to follow, just your own freestyles! Successfully completing the stage in Lucid will give you a special ending scene and an emblem on your rank as lasting proof of your success.

To answer a few questions about it I've seen floating around:

Q: Does this mean the other parts of the song are gone? A: No, going Lucid is something that only happens if you manage to activate it yourself. Otherwise, the song continues as normal.

Q: Can it be disabled? A: Yep, if you're like really good at freestyling but still don't wanna ascend into Lucid, there will be a toggle in the Options menu to enable/disable the ability for it to activate.

Q: Can this happen in every stage? A: Probably! That's the plan, unless I find a rare reason it wouldn't work well for one.

In the preview, you can also see that Stir & Mix itself has been updated a bit in the vocal and artwork departments! Compared to the 2023 beta version's vocals, 2cada tuned them with a bit more stylization this time. In terms of artwork, the animations were redone in my current art style, as another step towards a consistent art style by release. In the process, I was able to make the animations much more fluid and expressive!

Little fun fact about that, Jamtine's hair actually used to cover up more of her eyes/eyebrows as if they were bangs of some sort, but I eventually moved it out the way so I could have more freedom with her expressions, which I found important for a character like her. An inverse of that philosophy would be Nami, who has her sunglasses and bangs cover up her eyes/eyebrows to give her a more mysterious feel. It's hard to tell what's going on in Nami's head! (If anything at all!)

Now, let's talk about the gameplay and UI again. Here's a little quickfire of some changes I've made:

The Next Line Tab has a "NEXT" text sign above it and will stay at the end of the Player's line to help with clarity

The background bar of each line now adjusts to the line's length to also help with visual clarity

When points are gained or deducted, it now briefly flashes over the score counter instead of having a separate bubble

Holding the button on pow notes instead of tapping them will accumulate extra points until you either release it or reach the max amount. The more buttons you manage to hold at once, the more points you'll get!

Landing notes on the later end of a beat marker without being off-beat can count as swing rhythm, adding extra points.

To account for the new score system and its balancing, you won't need the Perfect Bonus to be eligible for an S-rank anymore

Overall, I'd say the new rhythm/scoring system is much more consistent, balanced, forgiving, and accurate to the game's inspirations compared to how it was in the beta demos.

As for future stuff I'm working on, I've been animating the Boss battle for Act 2. Not much I can really say about it atm, but the song's going for an electro-funk style. Pretty happy with how it's been turning out so far!

I've also been redesigning the stage select screen to be easier to navigate and easier for me add more stages and acts to it. This one's able to just pull the needed information from each song/act and arrange it all accordingly instead of me having to manually do it each time I add something. It's still very much a work in progress, but it's functional! I haven't gotten to drawing McWave's new icons yet... (Don't look too deep into the number of acts here btw, it just stops at 3 because that's as far as I've indexed it at the moment!)

I've also started working on a redesign for the results screen. Since the new scoring doesn't have equal spaces between the rank requirements, I decided to replace the linear rank meter with a more dial-like one that goes through a cycle per each rank threshold you pass. Along with it, I'll have to finally make new results screen animations for Melodii at some point. Not sure yet if the pose Melodii's doing in this concept sketch will be what I end up using, but I definitely will be letting them aura farm more.

To save the most boring for last, optimization. For the notes in stages, I've started using a method called "Object Pooling". (Which I actually hadn't heard of until recently.) Basically, note objects get recycled now when possible instead of created/destroyed, which helps reduce memory usage. For materials, I've managed to up performance by using Texture Arrays and a pretty convoluted shader trick where I put the vertices of UV layers at specific coordinates, which are then decoded to be used as material info. (e.g. color, spec, emission) That way, more meshes can share materials while looking different instead of loading in separate ones. Not really sure how common this is, as I couldn't find much info on it, but it seems to be working pretty well so far! I was also able to cut performance costs in some areas by taking a screenshot of a background model and having the game render a flat image instead of the entire model. This works pretty well for shots where large background models are far away or when the camera angle stays static.

That's all for now! As always, thanks for reading.

-LJ

#scratchin melodii

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satoruhour · 2 years ago

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racer jjk are so good 😩 i wonder if u can make a part two where is explain how the boys (gojo, geto, nanami, toji) and the reader first met. THANK YOUUU

a/n: thx baby glad u liked them 😉 here you go! also mb if this is lacklustre guys 🧍‍♀i didn’t wanna write smut bc it’d be too similar ig. fun little post! pls still support me 🥹 (nanami’s is a bit suggestive!) / pt.1 here

✶ GOJO

you actually meet his ass when he almost crashes into u and while making a difficult drift turn before swerving at the sight of you. plus surprise … you’re the police chief’s daughter. gojo at this point is still using a jacked up camaro, so it’s a wonder he’s able to still speed so well away from officers. but it’s not like he was running away from any crime, he just so happened to stumble across an interrogation of a fellow classmate initiated by the police chief’s son (your younger, cop worshipper brother). it was hardly an interrogation tho, more of a bully circle. gojos an cocky man but hes not entirely closed off from things happening around him. when theres people being wrongfully treated he steps in, but he’s pushing the limit a little running away from your brother and his police chief dad. especially when he’s got ties with the racing scene lol. bro doesnt exactly care tho, cause he knew the modifications he made to his engine he’s sure to get away lmaoooo.

there’s a rush of adrenaline that matches the exact moments when the first gear change happens and his foot presses down hard on the break, feeling the familiar sensation of the steering wheel under his fingers as he turns it to the right. nothing like a successful run of a difficult drift route, even more so with an annoying fucking kid chasing him. he was miles behind too, and gojo has to laugh out to himself in the driver’s seat before he yelps out at the shadow on the street.

“damn street lights. don’t even want to spend a few thousand to fix it,” he scoffs, thinking the figure would’ve apologised and ran away, but he’s a little pumped to see you, a relative of the very kid he was running away from. “don’t wanna chase me with daddy over there?”

you notice he’s nodding his head toward the incessant siren, your hotheaded father and your insufferable brother, two of them who butt heads all the time but still manage to get along. you couldn’t care less though, because of their arrogant, conceited behaviour; you vowed never to be like that. your father failed to raise you how he wanted you to turn out: dyed hair at sixteen, a stick ’n poke a year later, colluding with the “wrong” people (they were harmless, he just didn’t like them).

so he turned to your brother, corrupting his mind, and since then, you’ve been a ghost in the house, happy to even be ignored by the conservative kin that find people who are different a ’hassle’. with a story like this, gojo isn’t exactly clueless to your situation so he reaches over and opens the door to the passenger seat in a silent offer.

what’s a little salt in the wound, right?

gojo giggles when you slip in like he knew you would and you simply shrug, knowing this would seal the deal. you know you’re right when you hear furious honks from the police car which is quickly approaching, but watching gojo evade police on the news made you confident he’d outrun them every. single. time. “ooh, doesn’t sound good, princess. i’ll pick you up if you get kicked out of the house.”

it was such a dirty, rude comment that you would’ve slapped him but instead you just burst out laughing, weird noises and all before you’re patting the hand on his stick shift, “drive, hotshot.”

all you can do is roll your eyes with a smile, not missing the exhilarated smile and blush on his cheeks. you already feel at home in the 1969 camaro he’s driving, seeing the exact same car later that night when you’re waiting on the sidewalk with a bulk of your things.

“so much for being daddy’s girl.” gojo smiles, a little sickeningly that you want to punch him (you hear it’s like that from his friends and you find it to be true), but you accept the ride anyway, with a promise he’d get something more later.

✶ GETO

the first time you see him is before a race, having stumbled into the bustling underground of cars and the peak of 2000s fashion because you’re still navigating japan even after six months on an exchange program. it’s difficult when they have different parking lots for every monument building, which all look the same, mind you. it was like a puzzle for your poor mind, especially since there was tons of undocumented alleys in the area you were in. u immediately get hit by the smell of petrol and smoke and conversation and it’s like woah…. stepping entirely into a new world sort of??? even with his fame suguru stays humble tho, keeping gojo ans nanami close to him while keeping his distance from fangirls and stuff. shit gets messy !!!!

gojo nudges geto so hard he almost falls if not for his mazda behind him, and he’s ready to shoot a glare towards satoru but then he looks past the annoying man and into the crowd to find you, doe eyed and looking all around the place like a deer caught in headlights. you’re all dressed up in a cute get-up, hair framing your face so cutely he has half a mind to talk to you. plus, it’s clear you don’t belong here, and there isn’t anything wrong with that but the people here sometimes tend to be a tad bit… stuck-up.

there’s already a few in the crowd giving you weird looks and others giggling, clearly put off by the confused glances you exchange between your phone and the area. geto is prepared to head your way, but his resolve hardens when he sees todo and his gang start to approach the poor person who can only freeze in place.

geto pushes off his car immediately, completely disregarding whatever comment gojo was making while nanami watches silently. todo’s already asked you a question, and when you don’t answer, everyone knows the next thing he’ll do is to humiliate you, but not before geto interferes.

“she’s mine, aoi.” shoving him away, todo only scoffs and spits on the floor beside you because he can’t do anything except leave the place before anything escalates. it’s a clear rule, too, that anyone’s partner or significant other is off-limits, unless you want to propose a race to win them over — but even so it’s not that simple.

the murmurs only heighten when geto asks if you’re okay, a palm on your back to lead you away from the action of everything. thankfully, his mazda and the other two men are stationed at the corner, and the crowd’s attention slowly pulls away from you and onto the revving engines of the two competing cars.

“you okay?” geto looks down, shielding the bright car park lights and peeking a glance at where you were meant to go. it’s a quaint cafe in the basement of a building near shibuya square — a place which could be accessed by the parking lot, but it looks like you took an early turn and ended up in this one instead.

all you could muster up was a nod, mind going a hundred miles per hour just like those cars that were going to race; you’re more focused on his brown eyes that hold yours too well, though, dark and hypnotising that he has to repeat his question.

“yeah. for the most part, i guess. tha—” you mumble, but before you can bow and thank the man who’s already making a mark on your mind with his imposing stature, his friend chimes in.

“don’t mind aoi, he’s just intense like that.” you look past geto to see the white-haired racer who sports a bright grin, and to his side, a blonde, bored-looking guy who’s around the same age. “where you headed?”

geto waves a hand at them and cuts in as you answer, “i’ll take you. don’t mind those two idiots.” his sudden offer has your heart jumping just a bit; a mean brooding guy looking for a little cafe who’s holding a cinnamoroll event at the moment? what a sight to behold.

you’re all prepared to go when gojo tosses the keys to his mazda, and you’re thinking that maybe it really was further than expected but the man is soon leaning down to whisper into your ear.

“but before you go, want to watch me race?” geto grins, noticing that you’re at a loss for words again. you do that a lot, huh. it wouldn’t hurt to show off a little to get you absolutely speechless.

“i’ll treat you to whatever you want in that cute cafe, too.”

✶ NANAMI

ok the small drabble i wrote was sorta how they met but yes basically that!!!! nanami comes in at first (but you’re not doing much, just hanging around in the back), panicking cause he’s got an important race tmr (he just doesn’t gojo to win over whether he would have to borrow one of gojo’s dodge chargers) and hes like ? hes wondering what’s wrong with his dodge and when your dad mentions how he may need to order the parts his world falls apart fr 😭. and then he ends up borrowing it from gojo LMFAOOO. since you guys roughly know their meeting (nanami’s return to the shop after your father fixes the car and then eating you out wheeew) ill highlight life with nanami after that whole shebang!

you like to recall the first time you’ve met nanami, hardly a meeting, really, because you didn’t even see his face, but you hear his voice. a deep timbre with a seriousness to it that tells you that he could’ve fixed his own car if he tried and maybe just lacked the parts. however, you’re appalled when your father comes home later that night and tells you it was a dodge charger they were dealing with, a 1968 release that was no doubt passed down in his generation.

so when you’re peeking out of the supply room the second time nanami returns, you’re not surprised by his blonde hair, possibly a descendant of european blood, but had been born and raised in japan. it wasn’t uncommon, but it felt like he was such a specific ethnicity with the features he had. you’re right when you’re out with nanami a few weeks later, learning his grandfather was danish, smiling as he talked about his family.

it was by chance that he got into the racing scene, getting acquainted with gojo briefly because he was always infuriating in class — but then the both of them began to grow out of high school and entered university, introducing nanami to both geto, gojo’s best friend and to racing. it had made an impression on his heart immediately, reluctantly asking to ride in gojo’s car as they sped through the night and then trying his hand at it later.

“so geto-san was the one who taught you how to drift?” you ask from the passenger seat, a calm atmosphere surrounding the two of you as nanami takes you out for a casual drive along the freeway, bringing you to his favourite place to drift ever since he’s trained there. it was a clean ascent once he reaches the mountain, jogging over to open the door for you before sticking out a hand.

“thank you… kento,” you feel his hand tighten around yours, bringing you around to the front before leaning on the front of the car with you, the jangle of the bracelet he’s got you making noises when he pulls you into his side. it’s been a month with him, yet he already feels so committed, albeit stoic.

but you realise, in the midst of it, you’re the only one who can manage to pry a smile out of him, the lines on his face fading away when he picks you up from your dad’s shop. the loud engine is always an indicator, greeting him at the door of the garage as your father sends you off with a grin, leaning into the driver’s seat to press a peck through the window.

“when you say my name like that,” nanami mumbles, appreciating the scene with his lips in your hair; and while nanami is all soft and gentle with you, sometimes his carnal instincts get the best of him and he says the filthiest things, unprompted, “it makes me want to eat you out on the hood of my car again.”

you roll your eyes with a smile, because you’ve already done it twice: one in the shop and another in a secluded car park, but you know nanami hasn’t glutted his appetite for you yet, and he makes sure you know he never will.

✶ TOJI

the drabble previously mentioned how you were a little older megumi — through tutoring megumi, you met toji. it was a chance encounter sort of, u put up an ad at the end of your second year of uni since the winter break was a little longer than usual, so you decided to earn a bit of pocket money thru tutoring in the one subject you were most comfortable in: humanities. the syllabus in schools nowadays has become harder too, even going as far as to research papers and then scoff in disgust at the intensity of the questions lol … it’s routine in the school system to do that, gearing up for the questions you might be asked when u first get an enquiry call on the line. you hang up with a time and address and when u reach megumi opens the door, but toji emerges from his man cave (garage. hes obsessed w/ his corvette) later and jesus christ hes (almost) six foot of pure dilf that youre considering sidling up to him instead LMAO. esp with how the house looked, it wouldnt be so bad being a old man’s bitch

the doorbell you rang reverberates throughout the house, albeit a bit muffled, but the door opens quickly and you’re met with a black spiky-haired kid, who looks a few years younger than you. but megumi didn’t really need an introduction, because you’re pointing it out to him once inside.

“aren’t you the kid that got suspended for beating up gang members?” sometimes his seniors never knew when to shut up. to this, megumi just sighs.

“yep, that’s me. i told you my name over the phone but,” he extends a hand, “i’m fushiguro megumi.”

you hum and take his hand, introducing yourself as well before a thud makes you snap your head to the noise, where a larger and taller man emerges from the door that connects the living room to the garage. he has features similar to megumi’s and he’s currently clutching his toe, stubbing it on the cabinet on his way out and cursing his head off.

it isn’t difficult to match name to face for him as well, remembering a report you did on the increasingly popular racing scene starting up again. don’t ask — it was a pretty open assignment and you didn’t hesitate to write about the culture back then, something you always wished you lived in.

now, you’re not too taken aback by casually stumbling across fushiguro toji’s home, but more of how he managed to maintain his physique for so many years. if there’s anything your research told you, he was more on the lanky side in his twenties, the right side of his mouth clear from the scar while dominating the drifting scene back in the 80s.

“who’re you, kid?” a little annoyed at the name but you open your mouth to introduce yourself, and toji nods, although confused. it seems like he’s not too involved in megumi’s grades, because when you tell him megumi himself had called you over a bad grade in literature and social studies, his expression drops into an ‘o’.

“ah, i would’ve taught him myself but…” you knew he dropped out of high school before, living a crap life trying to pay off debts his father had left him and turning to racing and winning bets to make a living out of it. it was scary how this information was so accessible to you via one of his interviews, but you can tell he’s put it long before him, choosing to focus on raising megumi and maintaining his corvette.

“make yourself at home, alright, doll?” doll. you stutter out an affirmative reply.

though when he said that, you hadn’t imagined wandering into the same door he had came out of before. he was probably checking on the condition of his car, knees protruding out of the corvette’s side as he rolls out on the creeper at the sound of someone approaching. you didn’t wish to do this, truly, but when some kids from megumi’s school had attempted to play a prank by picking toji’s lock to get back at megumi, the latter had discovered them after coming out the side door.

needless to say, megumi still holds up his reputation, chasing them down for more than three blocks (it was seven) before proceeding to, you assume, beat them up. you imagine it’s routine for toji at this point, but you still want to at least let him know.

“he’s off again?” toji sits up after hearing your explanation, using the wrench to scratch his temple. sure, he’s only like twenty years older than you — it certainly doesn’t stop you from checking out how his muscles bulge against his compression shirt, or the grey sweatpants he’d got on that you told yourself not to peep at. “don’t mind the kid, i’ll lecture him when he returns later.”

he sighs and grumbles under his breath, expecting you to leave, and when you don’t he just raises an eyebrow, a silent prompt for you to explain what else you needed. you only pointed to the hood.

“uh… toji-san, if you’re keen on getting back into racing,” toji fully stands up to his height, curious on what you have to say, but also wondering how much balls you had to talk about racing in front of him, “you should really change your 283 cubic-inch V8 to a 327. i, uh, heard the specifications on the new engine has better fuel delivery and horsepower.”

toji relaxes when you actually know your crap, not wanting to deal with another annoying fan begging him to get back into racing, although you’re not entirely off the hook. “and why should i listen to you, hm, doll?”

he stands there, unimpressed, but you didn’t research cars like a madman for nothing. it was a rabbit hole you had commended yourself for diving into, too, because you always had wanted to start, just, how? and that changed when you finally had the opportunity to delve into the complicated world of cars with the help of your friend’s dad who was a mechanic. “um… you really don’t. just giving some pointers, or at least, recommendations that go well with your ’66 corvette.”

oh my god? you know the exact year his chevrolet was released too?

the ex-racer only nods slowly, keeping it in mind for the next time he has the time to switch to an updated engine, but he didn’t expect help to come from your hands the next time, working under the hood like a professional while still leaving the heavy lifting to him. you had fun each time in the garage, exchanging intel and geeking about cars while you both open up to each other — all under the guise of tutoring his son.

since then, toji has taken his corvette out to meet you more than he takes it out for errands, meeting you with a promise that he would take care of your university fees. but none of the time spent with you would’ve warned him that you two would be changing his next engine, too, except that maybe, you were finally his girl.

why does toji’s always end up the longest bye. also this is the only req i’ve gotten, i swear i don’t bite guys. ♡ thirsts and drabble requests are open!

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indigo-flowers09 · 5 months ago

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i FINALLY figured out Gradients colors jesus 😭😭

i love them so much oml i’m ranting about them screw yoy

also pj belongs to 7goodangel and gradient belongs to askcomboclub, these are my interpretations because i have issues

also PLEASE do not call this version of Paperjam “Jammy” i’m very uncomfortable with it, just thought i should say that…

I’ll probably talk backstory and more details later if people are interested but for now, i’ll start with some details about the older of the two, Gradient :]

Created from an experiment to see if one of errors plushes could absorb a soul, Gradient is about seven years older than his brother PJ, at around 15 or 16. He wasn’t around very many people growing up, making him very socially inept except around those he already knows, like his parents, brother and people like Fresh and Palette Roller. Around people he knows, he’s often loud, crass and even cruel, through he rarely means it. He’s made a hobby out of trashing au’s, screwing up timelines and causing a little chaos. His absolute favorite thing to do though has got to be vandalizing au’s with his favorite Uncle, Fresh. Whether it’s graffiti, exploding cans of spray paint or tp’ing Fell’s house for the third time this week, it’s all in good fun. Unless you’re Fell. but that doesn’t really matter :3

His little brother, the 9 year old Paperjam, came to life by total accident. Error was trashing the antivoid, causing Pj’s doll to fall into a soul and come alive. Error wouldn’t realize for a while, causing Pj to get thrashed around. This would not only cause Ink to be overprotective of him and Error to be incredibly gentle, but it would leave him with brain damage, causing mood swings, strong emotions and issues with sleeping. Most of the time, Pj is pretty sleepy and groggy, being able to catch some Z’s in nearly any conditions, but certain things get him to essentially “snap out of it.” He’ll usually only end up happy, sad or angry, correlating to each of the colors in his design. Instead of spray paint or silly string, Pj prefers to use paint, paper, ink; the simple stuff. Him and his brother often travel to different universes together and, while Gray is filling someone’s car with bean bag beads and glitter, Pj is either taking a nap or drawing something he thinks is pretty or important, anything he finds himself caring about.

i love them a lot if you read all of this you should totally like and reblog and send me an ask maybe i love them i wanna talk about them more this TOOK LIKE THREE HOURS TO WRITE BECAUSE I KEPT NEEDING TO SHORTEN IT-

#the fake transparent background is intentional btw #its my hc for the antivoid it pisses me off i love it #undertale #undertale au #errorink #paperjam sans #gradient sans #fresh sans #error sans #ink sans #errortale #inktale #undertale multiverse #utmv #utmv au #utmv headcanons #utmv kin

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year ago

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AITA for breaking up with my boyfriend because he’s hypersexual?

nsft/nsfw warning - mentions of sex, manipulation, etc.

🦷

(to find later)

I (19m) just broke up with my boyfriend (18m) of over one and a half years last night.

For context, I’m demisexual and he’s known this from the very beginning. Plus, I’m a transgender guy and when we first got together I was at the very start of my transition and still extremely uncomfortable with my body. So, sex was just kind of out of the question, and I made that very clear.

Nonetheless, whenever we cuddled he still got all touchy, kissed my neck and begged me to take my clothes off, etc. Whenever I protested, he got all whiny and did that weird puppy eyes thing. He usually gave up after a while and apologized, but it always left me feeling guilty and like I was depriving him of something.

After a while, he told me he’s hypersexual and he’s sorry if he gets a little "too much" sometimes. But he reassured me that he loves me and even if we never get intimate, he wants to be with me. I believed him.

Still, his behavior continued and after a while I just gave in and took my clothes off for him, let him kiss me… you get it. When I put my shirt back on I asked if he was happy now and he got all upset. He was pouting and told me that he never forced me to do anything and he wants me to enjoy these things too. It’s true, he never forced me to do anything but he always got all touchy feely and it made me feel like I had to give him something.

As the relationship progressed, I just resorted to giving him oral to satisfy him but he always insisted on returning the favor. The thing is, I was his first relationship and he didn’t have much experience. So, whenever he tried anything, I barely felt anything. Even with tons of communication and showing him how to do things. It just left me feeling gross and unsatisfied.

At some point, I decided I had to let him do the full thing. (stupid, I know, but I’m an insecure 19 year old) So, we did it and I hated it. It felt uncomfortable and he didn’t even try to give me any sort of pleasure, he just ran off to take a shower after he finished. I cried in his bed that night but never told him about it. I just pretended to be okay and to like this stuff.

When I told him I wanted to get top surgery, he begged me not to get it or to get the keyhole procedure so I don’t lose feeling in my nipples. Because it’s the only way he’s ever been able to give me pleasure. I don’t really wanna spell it out, but yeah.

When I told him that being shirtless during the nasty made me wanna cry, he told me that he never asked me to take my shirt or binder off. I just did it. But the thing is, I did it because he liked it. Never once did he apologize or comfort me. It just made me feel disgusting and extremely dysphoric.

He always blamed all his behavior on being hypersexual and not being able to control himself when I’m so cute. Or whatever…

So, I made up my mind to break up with him. The thing is, I know all of this makes him sound horrible. But he was genuinely a good boyfriend and I love him a lot. So, I feel like shit for breaking up with him just because he’s hypersexual. I tried to talk to him about it and find a solution, but he never changed despite promising to do so. I don’t really see what else I could’ve done.

Am I the asshole for this? I’d appreciate it if other hypersexual people could give me their opinions on this! Because I don’t want to believe that this is how hypersexual people usually act.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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sweetestcaptainhughes · 9 months ago

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48 with Trevor zegras pls ☁️

Drabble Challenge. Drabble Masterlist.

"We've become that clingy couple that you used to complain about"

Neither you or Trevor were very big on PDA in general, especially when you started dating. Both of you did at first did find it hilarious soft launching your relationship and have random girls on social media speculate if you were dating or not. Neither of you ever giving them even a 'breadcrumb' of evidence that you were dating as far as PDA, all they had got was a few likes on Instagram and comments on posts. Even after six months of dating when you 'hard launched' your relationship, you still weren't big on PDA especially if it came to posting online pictures of you together.

Trevor asked you one night why you hated showing PDA even in front of small crowds because in private all you wanted to do was cuddle. All you told him was that "One I don't wanna became one of those clingy couples that you can never do anything without the other one present and two I don't want someone posting a private moment thinking it's cute. And then my entire face is all over Instagram and Twitter it makes me uncomfortable."

He made grabby hands at you at you pulling you into the couch. "Aww baby." He said in a little high pitch voice, almost like a baby voice. "I love you and if that's what you want okay." And then he teased you by leaving nasty wet raspberries all over you cheek until you were able to wiggle out of his embrace.

That only happened 6 months ago, but now everything has shifted. It started small, out with the team you both would hold hands under the table so no one could see. Then it became out with friends in a crowded bar and he would have a protective arm around you. By the summertime, visiting family you would sit in his lap because their wasn't enough seats and Grandma had to sit somewhere. By Labor Day it was game over, after spending an entire summer together Trevor was your shadow. If you moved 3 feet away he deemed it was too much and he didn't give a shit about what any of the boys had to say. He knew that the season was about to start and he needed to soak in all the time he had left with you before he had to go sometimes weeks without you.

But you didn't even care, all your friends and family knew not to post online about you guys, even on what they deemed their 'private accounts' after all the boys Goodreads accounts were found this summer. Honestly you didn't even notice that Trevor and you were so attached to eachother until the first week long roadie of the season. After sleeping in the same bed every single night for the past 6 months after not being able to sleep for 2 days straight because you didn't have Trevor's warm body heat. Whether it was giving into an intrusive thought or sleep deprivation you found yourself booking a ticket to fucking Utah to surprise Trevor. It was worth it when seven hours later he saw you during warms-up. His teammates were thankful too because a clingy sad Trevor without you was even more unbearable than a happy yapping Trevor.

Later on in his hotel room you guys were laying down. Both you finally felt relaxed and able to get a good night's sleep for the first time in days. Turning your head towards Trevor you couldn't help but comment at how malicious smile on his face. "Trev what?"

Turning his head toward your voice he said "I just can't stop thinking about the fact that in only a year of dating. We've become that clingy couple you used to complain about."

Gasping loudly at his confusion, slightly sitting up in the bed now leaning your arm to support your weight. "We have not! Take it back!" you exclaimed as Trevor just laughed and pulled you back down to hold you against him.

"Nope." Making the popping p sound for emphasis.

"We have not!" Lightly jokingly hitting him on his chest, that now shook as he laughed so hard at your reaction.

"Then what are we?" A big smile still on his face that it probably hurt his cheeks.

"I said I didn't wanna became a couple that couldn't still go out with their friends by themselves OR all over social media constantly showing PDA which we aren't." you agrued.

"baby. You flew to fucking Utah because you wanted to be able to sleep in the same bed. And the only reason we aren't all over social media even in our friends posts cuddling and shit is because YOU told people not to. " Quickly stealing a peck from your lips as he turned quickly to turn off the light craving a good night's sleep more than he would care to admit.

"yeah well that's difffernet." you grumble. "plus we can still go out without each other to hangout with friends."

"hmm" Trevor answers half asleep, pulling you tighter into him. "I still think it's funny. Now let's sleep babygirl I'm tired."

#trevor zegras fic #trevor zegras fluff #trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras imagine #nhl players #nhl #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #trevor zegras x y/n #schwritingstz11 #drabble collection

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hugshughes · 2 years ago

Text

behind my back N. Moyle

Nolan Moyle x Hughes!reader (Quinn’s twin)

synopsis - Luke finds out about your secret relationship with his captain, and he is not happy. He ends up causing your relationship to crumble under his emotions but soon is whipped back into shape and realizes the world doesn’t revolve around him, and that he should want your happiness, not try to end it.

wc - 2.9k

contains - reader is quinn hughes’ twin sister, suggestive themes close to the end, making out, kissing, shouting, lots of cursing (luke has a potty mouth), i made luke a bit mean for parts of this, crying, reader is shorter than nolan, mentions of eating/reader eats, lmk if i missed anything!

an - hey! first post on this new blog! i hope you like it, please don’t mind any errors this was slightly proofread, and i don’t love this but i warned to post something and noticed the severe lack of Nolan fics on here! (i kinda wanna make maybe a smutty part 2 so lmk.)

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Is the first thing you hear when you answer an incoming call from your little brother. Your face drops and Nolan must’ve noticed because he’s looking at you with a confused look on his face, mouthing ‘Are you okay?’ to you. You don’t respond to Nolan.

“What Luke? What’s up?”

You think you know what’s up. You have a gut feeling that what’s up is that you are in a relationship with his captain, a secret one at that.

“‘What’s up?’ Are you joking? You’re fucking Nolan behind my fucking back. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

You can’t respond, you don’t know how to. You open and close your mouth, making eye contact with Nolan again, who looks very concerned now.

“What? You can’t speak now? Your mouth won’t open? It was open fucking wide for my fucking captain, wasn’t it? God, what the actual fuck is wrong with you? You can’t keep your legs closed for one second, can you? Fuck!”

“Luke I- I’m sorry.”

You mewled out, he had just practically slut shamed you, there were tears all along your waterline, just waiting to fall off your lashes and down your face.

“Oh, you’re sorry? That’s nice, but it doesn’t take away the fact that you fucked him, does it? When he decides he’s done with you it could fuck up the team’s dynamic! Have you even thought about me for two seconds?”

“All I have done is thought about you, Luke! I wanted to tell you the second it started but I knew you would react like this! Like- like you would flip the fuck out! I really fucking care about him Luke, please just listen to me!”

Luke just wouldn’t stop, he kept shouting cruel things, and Nolan just couldn’t take watching you sit there, sobbing, while you’re brother used you as a punching bag. He grabbed the phone from your hand and put it to his ear.

“Hey Luke! Man-”

Luke scoffs, angrily laughing then huffing out a sigh.

“Of course she’s with you! What the fuck, dude?”

“Luke man please, neither of us planned for this to happen. We really fuckin’ care for each other. She’s been torn up about you not knowing for months, please hear us out.”

“‘Us’? Oh my God! ‘Us’? That’s fucking funny. I cannot believe either of you. God, fuck! When you two decide you're done having fun it’s gonna fuck shit up, big time. Fuck you, and her.”

Luke hung up the phone. You buried your face in your hands. Nolan put your phone down before he pulled you into him, his hand running up and down your back while the other cradles your head.

“I’m so sorry Nolan! I just fucked up everything, fuck!” He just shushes you, rocking the two of you back and forth on your bed.

It was three days later. Nolan called you last night and said how the last two days of practice had been shit, the tension very thick. He told you how he needed to put the team first with the upcoming playoffs, and how that meant he needed to be able to be the best captain he could be, meaning no bad blood between him and his teammates, so he broke up with you.

You have been so completely tore up. Laying in your bed in the dark in a sweatshirt you didn’t want to have to give back to Nolan. You hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday morning. The sun was beginning to set as you stared at your ceiling.

Your roommate has been an angel, talking to you, sitting with you, bringing you water, and offering you food. Luke had texted Jack about the situation, and Jack had texted Quinn about it, leaving the most mature of the Hughes’ boys to text you, and your mother.

Quinn had asked if you were okay, and felt terrible for you when you informed him of Nolan ending it because of Luke. Your mother had texted you, asking if you were alright, getting the full story from you before sending a long-winded message to your baby brother, reading:

“Luke Warren. I cannot believe the way you’ve treated your sister. Your words were not warranted in any way whatsoever. Have you noticed your sister’s level of happiness in the last 7 months? She went from always uninvolved and cut off from us to an absolute light of a girl. When I called and talked to her today she sounded absolutely broken down. When I say get your head out of your butt Luke, I mean it. Your sister deserves to be happy Luke, just as much as you do, and if you’re okay with taking that away because of a hypothetical problem that happens between her and Nolan, I am very disappointed. You better realize how ignorant you’re being and make this up to her. She loves you, Luke, so much. She is still the girl who let you sleep in her bed whenever you had nightmares, the girl that would shout at your brothers the second she saw you being left out. She deserves this Luke, and you need to realize that, because now Nolan’s broken up with her, and I don’t know if she is going to be okay.”

That being the first thing Luke saw on his phone after practice definitely surprised him. He let out a curse the second he saw his first two names in a text from his mother. The more he read, the shittier he felt. When he reach the end though, he was confused. ‘Nolan broke up with her?’ Was his only thought. He quickly looked around the locker room, trying to see if Nolan was still there, but he wasn’t. Nolan had felt like shit all of practice, Luke still barely talking to him. He left immediately after practice was over, going straight back to his place.

Luke cursed again, he got ready to leave and quickly walked back to the house so he could drive to your apartment. Once he got there he waited not so patiently before your roommate finally buzzed him in. He ran up the stairs and down the hall to your door, knocking loudly.

Your roommate let him in, not without mumbling ‘the fuck do you want, bitch?’ and rolling her eyes at him. She let him go back to where your room is, after making sure he wasn’t here to shout at you again.

You’re not surprised when you hear a knock on your door, but you are when you shout ‘Come in’ and see Luke standing in your doorframe. Your eyes widen, your heart sinking into your ass.

“Oh.”

It’s all you could say. You felt frozen, assuming Luke was here to be mad at you some more like he was over the phone. The more you look at him, you realize he doesn’t look mad per se, he looks like a kicked puppy.

“I’m sorry.”

You almost laugh out of surprise. You find it hilarious that he’s apologizing after the verbal abuse you took from him just three days ago. You don’t reply, looking him straight in the eyes, raising your eyebrows in expectation, needing him to say more.

“Shit, I- I am such a dick. It was so fuckin’ selfish of me to say that to you. I mean, yeah I would’ve liked to have known but uh, it was still so shitty of me. Please, please forgive me. And I know that I already fucked things up and that you probably won’t accept this but still, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking and when Grano accidentally mentioned you guys I just flipped out. The shit I said was wrong, I don’t think anything I said is true, I know it isn’t. I just, I’m so sorry.”

He looked absolutely pitiful. He was on the verge of crying. You stood from your bed and moved to him, wrapping your arms around him, he clung to you.

“Lu, don’t cry. Okay? It’s alright, what you said was shitty, but I should’ve just told you, alright? It probably would’ve saved a lot of screaming and tears. I’m glad mom got the stick out of your ass, huh?”

Luke lets out a teary laugh. Nodding into your shoulder, even though he was much bigger than you, he was still your baby brother. The way you were holding him made you think of when he was 5 and you were 7 and for six months he stayed in your room almost every night because he would have nightmares, and even if he didn’t have nightmares sometimes, he just felt safer with his big sister.

“‘M so sorry. Was gonna try to talk to Nolan after practice but he was already gone, so I just came here.”

You let out a sigh at the mention of Nolan. You were assuming that Luke doing this was also him telling you that he was okay with your relationship. But, after all the drama you weren’t sure Nolan would let you just run back into his arms.

“I dunno if it’s even worth it talking to Nolan, I don’t know if he’ll want to get back together after all this drama. He might just be good with it now.

Luke felt like absolute shit. None of this would’ve happened if hadn’t have been so irrational. He let out a sigh, pulling away from you.

“I am gonna go get you food, okay? I’ll get you tenders from Skeeps, huh?”

You laughed at your little brother’s effort.

“Lu, it’s Wednesday. Skeeps isn’t open.”

His face quickly fell. But he quickly shook it off.

“Whatever, I’m going to get you somethin’. Text me if you want something specific, okay?”

You nodded and laughed as he quickly left your room, saying bye to your roommate who after came to your room to see if everything was okay before hugging you.

Luke is gonna get you food, but he is also gonna call Nolan and apologize, and make him go to your place and be your boyfriend again.

The second he’s in his car his phone is to his ear, waiting for Nolan to pick up. He knows there is a chance Nolan won’t pick up, but he’s pushing that out of his thoughts. He almost gives up on the phone call but on what was probably the last possible ring, Nolan answered the phone.

“Uh hey man, what’s up?”

Nolan is very confused as to why Luke is calling him, knowing he’s barely sent him a glance over the last two days.

“Hey, Nolan. Bro, I’m so fuckin’ sorry. It was really shitty of me to say all those things to you guys and I was a real dick. I was acting totally out of nowhere because I was just really shocked I think.”

Luke took a pause, waiting for Nolan to say something before he took the conversation in another direction.

“Oh, um wow man. Yeah um it’s okay man, we should’ve told you. But uh, you know I broke up with her last night?”

“Yes I know, please go be her fuckin’ boyfriend again. She is so fucked right now. I didn’t even fucking realize how much happier she’d been recently, and now that I know you caused that, I can’t be the one to take that away from her. And I already talked to her about it but she was worried you might not like, want to be with her still. Bro, please go get her back.”

Nolan sits shocked. Shocked about Luke’s change of heart, and shocked that you believed he wouldn’t want you still. He stood from his seat on the couch of his living room and quickly grabbed his keys and put on his slides before practically running to his car, only wearing a tank top, sweatpants, and socks in the frigidity of January nights in Michigan. He says a few more things to Luke before he hangs up.

Nolan is barely thinking about anything when he parked in the lot of your building and was a little surprised at how quickly he was buzzed in.

Your roommate answered the door when Nolan quickly knocked, letting him in and telling him your whereabouts. You were surprised at how quickly Luke had gotten food when you heard a frantic knock on your door.

“You don’t have to knock Luke, just come in!”

“Uh, not Luke.”

You turned to face your door from your seat at your desk where you were lighting a candle, one Nolan had gotten you multiple times because you burned through them so quickly.

“Oh, Nol hi.”

Nolan standing in your doorway left you stunned, his grey sweatpants and black tank top that highlighted his huge arms made your mind go blank. You are thankful you spent a few minutes brushing your hair and cleansing your face after Luke left.

“Hey, um Luke called me, told me everything he told you probably.”

You suck in a breath, nodding. You stand and fully face him, but before you can even say anything, Nolan’s already wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t’ve ended things. I was just so nervous about Luke hating me and being captain but I really should not have done that. I’m sorry baby.”

You held him, running your fingers through his long hair.

“‘S okay, baby. Made total sense okay? But, I think now that my brother doesn’t have his head in his ass, you should be my boyfriend again.”

He pulled away from your neck to look at you, now taller than you, looking down at you, which was so hot.

“Yeah? I think so too.”

The way he said it was, so hot. He is just so hot. He looks from your eyes down to your lips, and then back up, and you swear your knees almost buckled. And when he leaned in and kissed you, he was practically holding you up.

Even though you’d only been broken up for probably 26 hours, it felt like so much longer, and the sweet kiss quickly turned into a makeout session. You walked Nolan back until he was sat on your bed as you sat down and straddled him, not breaking your kiss.

Nolan’s grip on your hips is tight as his tongue slips past your lips, causing you to gasp. Your hands clutch Nolan’s dark brown hair, tugging at the locks when you feel the tent in his pants grow beneath you, pulling a groan from him.

Nolan was about to start rocking your hips against his hard-on when your door was practically thrown open, the knob on the other side hitting your wall. You immediately pull away from Nolan, almost falling off his lap if it wasn’t for his strong grip on the backs of your thighs.

When you both see Luke, Chick-fil-A bag in hand, standing frozen at your doorway you don’t know what to do.

“Fuck, Luke! Knock or something!”

You quickly stand up almost tripping over Nolan’s feet as you practically run over to your door, pushing Luke out and then standing on the outside of your door as you close it.

You stand, back pressed against your bedroom door as Luke looks at you with a look that would normally be funny, but right now you’re just a little pissed, flustered, and dazed. You both just stand, staring at each other. Both trying to grip the fact that Luke just walked in on your very heated makeout session with his captain, his captain.

“Oh my God, what the fuck? I think I’m gonna puke, yeah, I’m definitely gonna puke.”

You slap his arm, giving him a look that reminded him of your mom, which made him smile.

“I cannot believe you guys are... ugh. I cannot believe I brought you food just to see that when I opened your door, you are truly disgusting.”

“I hate you so much. You are the worst. What did you get me?”

Luke laughs out loud at that, giving you your food before he claimed he had to go so he could bleach his eyes before the sight of you and Nolan set into his memory. But after that, he hugged you and told you he loved you, saying that he’ll see you when you’re not being so gross.

You walk him out, shouting that you love him as he quickly walks down the hall of your apartment’s floor. You talk to your roommate for a minute, then decide it’s time to go back and see your man. The man in question is kicked back on the pink fluffy blanket decorating your bed, a sight to see.

“Hi, baby.”

“Hey, is he gonna be okay? Didn’t mean to give the kid trauma or anything.”

You let out a laugh, reassuring Nolan that your brother is just dramatic, and not traumatized. Then you snuggle up next to him, eating your Chick-fil-A and feeding your fries to Nolan as you both talk about everything, from what new song you wanted him to listen to, to making plans for the summer, him staying at the lake house for a few weeks, you coming with him to New York to meet his family, it was all so exciting. You’re definitely glad that the secret was out because now you can be with him, like really be with him.

#nolan moyle #nolan moyle x reader #nolan moyle smut #hughes!reader #luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #umich imagine #umich hockey #umich x reader #nhl imagine #hockey #jack hughes #quinn hughes

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