#Wanting someone to Understand your position | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

redvexillum · 2 days ago

Text

"EPISODE 5 ISN'T A RAGATHA EPISO--"

So I just finished watching Episodes 4 and 5 of The Amazing Digital Circus for the third time because I’ve clearly given my life to this show and Gooseworx owns my soul. Genuinely, what phenomenal writing. I've seen mixed reception for episode five but I’m thrilled that the majority of the fandom can agree this episode was amazing. Because that means I can scream with all you FunnyBunny shippers and dedicated emotional wrecks alike.

Now. Let me get into why Episode 5 wasn’t just a Jax episode (though it very much was)—but why it was, at its core, Ragatha’s episode. This is gonna be long and laced with “am I overthinking this?” moments. Buckle up.

WHO IS RAGATHA?

When we first meet her in Episode One, she’s nice. Incredibly kind. Super peppy. But there's this teeny-tiny crack in that candy coating. She spirals, just a little, and we see a nervous, anxious edge slipping through her “positive vibes only” persona.

And that spiral? It’s not a one-time thing. It gets worse. The deeper you go into the series, the more you notice how her overbearing positivity feels less like optimism and more like a coping mechanism. A weaponized smile. She’s not just trying to cheer everyone up, she’s gaslighting herself into believing she has to be happy. She has to be likable. That it’s the only way she’ll be accepted.

And in the Digital Circus, where identity is shredded (like you forget your name for fuck's sakes) and everything’s performative? That’s not just sad...it’s devastating.

EPISODE 4: THE CRACKS BEGIN TO SHOW

Episode Four set the entire foundation. When Ragatha gets “stupid sauce” in her eyes and all her emotional filters drop, you finally see her. She stops curating how she’s perceived and just exists...and what comes out? She reminisces of her life (which gets confirmed in Episode 5). Gangle tries to warn her she might get hurt, and her response is almost eerie in how casually she brushes it off.

Sure, it could be a nod to Raggedy Ann and all that doll-abuse lore, but when you learn about Ragatha’s real past: abusive, narcissistic mother, high-society pressure cooker upbringing...that “hurt” starts feeling very literal. Maybe this line wasn’t just random doll humor. Maybe it’s a whisper of childhood trauma, manifesting through a false smile.

And then comes the Gloink Queen. The way Ragatha lights up at the idea of a mother who genuinely cherishes every single one of her hundreds of children? I fucking felt that. It wasn’t just admiration; it was longing. Desperation. Like she never got that kind of love growing up, so the concept itself is intoxicating. It’s this quiet heartbreak that adds a whole new layer to her need for approval.

She hates Jax. Let’s be real. He antagonizes her constantly, pushes every one of her buttons (he literally threw her in a goddamn vat of boiling oil for fucks sakes). But the part that wrecks me? She doesn’t want him to hate her. Not because she likes him, but because anyone disliking her is unbearable. Being disliked means she failed. Means she’s unworthy. Means she’s alone.

That’s why her facade, this grinning, chipper armour? It's everything. And the more we see of her, the more we understand that it’s crumbling.

I NEED YOU ALL TO LOCK THIS SCENE INTO YOUR BRAINS, OKAY? Because this exact emotional thread gets replayed like a broken record all throughout Episode Five. It’s not just a one-off moment, it’s the theme. The cast knows Ragatha’s cheer is fake. And honestly? It makes sense. They’ve been stuck together for who-knows-how-long, and you learn a lot about someone in that kind of nightmare.

But here’s the thing: when someone keeps pushing toxic positivity, constantly trying to “cheer you up” without actually listening, it doesn’t help. It hurts. It makes the person reaching out feel like they’re talking to a wall. Ragatha so badly wants people to open up to her, but she’s terrified of doing the same in return, and that’s where the entire disconnect lies. She’s hyper-aware of how she’s perceived. Her self-image is a prison. And at the core of it all?

Rejection.

Her biggest, ugliest, most soul-deep fear. Because rejection leads to isolation. And isolation? Leads straight back to the kind of loneliness she probably drowned in as a child.

Now, you're probably wondering: why am I still going off about Episode Four when I promised this was a breakdown of Episode Five?

Because Episode Four is the breadcrumb trail. It's the soft warning. The writer’s subtle little “hey, pay attention to her” moment. It’s the appetizer. It preps us, emotionally and narratively, for the main course of Episode Five, where Ragatha's carefully-constructed image begins to crack and we finally, finally, start to understand the full scope of her trauma.

Let’s address the big criticism real quick: a lot of people think this was a Jax-centric episode. And I get it. Jax got depth, growth, actual backstory. But here’s my take: Jax and Ragatha are each other’s foils.

One is warm, soft-spoken, always smiling, but secretly repressing everything real.

The other is brash, rude, antagonistic—but when he opens up? He’s real. He’s genuine.

They’ve been clashing since Episode One, and their dynamic works because they’re mirrors: distorted, but parallel.

Why was using Jax as Ragatha’s foil so brilliant? Because it does two huge things. First, it finally shows us Jax as a person instead of just telling us he’s a dick with a smile. But more importantly?

It amplifies Ragatha.

A foil, by definition, is a character who highlights the traits of another character by contrasting with them. And what better way to show Ragatha’s entire internal collapse than by placing her beside someone who, while difficult and abrasive, actually manages to connect with someone else?

Because as Jax grows closer to Pomni, the very connection Ragatha has been chasing since Day One, it throws Ragatha’s failures into painful high-def. She’s tried everything. She’s been kind, supportive, the “good friend.” And yet, it’s not her Pomni opens up to. It’s not her Pomni laughs with.

And that is why Episode Five is a Ragatha episode. Maybe not in the obvious, center-stage way. But in the subtle, devastating unraveling that plays out just beneath the surface.

Now, let’s talk receipts. I’ve got observations, breakdowns, and repeat viewings of Episodes Four and Five loaded and ready.

I don’t know if it was a deliberate artistic choice or just an organic part of the scene composition, but I can’t not point out how telling it is that the characters are all paired off: Jax and Pomni, Kinger with Zooble and Gangle, and yet Ragatha? She’s standing off in the distance. Alone. Isolated. Visibly excluded from every natural dynamic.

And I really want to believe that was purposeful. A quiet visual cue for us, the audience, to understand not just the social dynamics of the group, but how deeply disconnected Ragatha truly is from the others.

Honestly, I think this was the moment her carefully held-together mask started to split. The start of the spiral. Go back to the earlier episodes and you’ll start noticing it: Ragatha drops a lot of sharp, snarky comments. Some subtle. Some cutting. Whether intentional or not, those little moments are emotional leaks. She drops her filter more often around Jax, which makes sense, she hates him. She doesn’t bother hiding it. But the fact that her snark surfaces at all tells us something: the mask is slipping.

Think about Episode One, when Ragatha spirals, it’s visceral. It’s raw and disturbing in a way the others’ breakdowns just… aren’t. Why? Because for Ragatha, cracking isn’t just about stress or fear. It’s about exposing something she’s worked so hard to hide: her real, “ugly,” human feelings. She’s repressed them for so long, forced herself to smile through it all, because she believes that if she isn’t likable, if she isn’t “good,” she’ll be abandoned.

And now? That bottle’s starting to shake.

I'll circle back to this moment when I dive into the bar scene later (because oof—there’s so much there), but let’s keep things chronological for now.

Right after Ragatha leaves, Jax drops a line on Pomni: “[She] is taking advantage of you.” And it hits especially hard because just before that, Gangle told Pomni she didn’t think Ragatha was genuine. That? That’s when the discomfort surrounding Ragatha starts to really take shape.

Here’s why I think that hit a nerve with the rest of the cast.

They are all constantly fighting for their sanity. For their identities. They’re trapped in this surreal, terrifying digital purgatory where reality is questionable at best and all they’ve got are each other. That’s it. Just a bunch of strangers trying not to fall apart or, worse, abstract.

And when you're in that space? Vulnerability becomes everything. And it’s risky.

Being vulnerable to the wrong person, someone who doesn’t reciprocate, or worse, uses your openness against you is traumatic. It teaches you to close up. To withdraw.

To stop trying.

Now imagine reaching out to someone like Ragatha, who seems supportive on the surface, who says the right things, but there’s a disconnect. You don’t feel like you’re being seen. You don’t feel safe. You don’t feel like you’re talking to someone who’s willing to meet you in the mess.

And when that happens? Of course they gravitate elsewhere. Of course they pair off, find comfort in each other, and leave her on the fringes.

What hurts the most, though, is this: Ragatha wants connection. She’s starving for it. But she doesn’t know how to give it back in a way that feels real. She’s so wrapped up in being “the nice one,” the peacemaker, the cheerful glue of the group, that she can’t drop the act—even when it’s pushing people away. Even when it’s exactly what’s isolating her.

She wants to be close. She just doesn’t know how to be vulnerable.

Now, the biggest lore drop of Ragatha's past, let's break this down:

Throughout the entire series so far, Ragatha always speaks with this carefully curated tone: gentle, friendly, overly polite. But every time she gets a moment alone to monologue? It always derails. Every time. Her words unravel, her tone falters, and what starts as “everything’s fine” ends with something much darker, much sadder.

And this scene? God. This one hurt. Because when she starts talking about her mother, it stops feeling like just another breakdown. It feels like the core of her trauma is being yanked out into the open. She’s clearly an adult. Had a life. A career. Probably responsibilities and routines. And yet, that wound from her mother is still festering: deep, raw, and most importantly?

Completely unresolved.

This is where you see her coping mechanisms in full force. Ragatha has this heartbreaking tendency to downplay her own pain. She’ll smile through it, make a light comment, move on like it doesn’t ache. But it does. And that habit? It sabotages her ability to connect with people in a real, vulnerable way. Because how can someone share mutual pain with you if you never admit to having any? If you can’t even be real with yourself?

Remember when she confessed she hates Jax, but she doesn’t want Jax to hate her? That moment says everything. That desperate need to be liked, even by someone who openly antagonizes her, speaks volumes about her internal wiring. She’s terrified of rejection. Of being disliked. Of being seen as not enough.

And this scene, to me, is one of the most heartbreaking moments in the show. Ragatha is caught in this awful limbo: she wants connection, deeply. She wants friendship, understanding, belonging. But the second she senses discomfort, awkwardness, even the slightest ripple of tension, she backpedals. She shrinks. She brushes it off with a laugh or a sugar-coated phrase. And that’s exactly why the others can’t reach her.

She’s surrounded by people and still completely alone.

This scene also confirms what we’ve suspected all along: her mother had impossibly high standards. That nothing Ragatha did was ever good enough. That she had to perform perfection just to maybe receive love. It was a transaction. "Be the perfect little girl, the perfect daughter, the perfect doll, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll earn affection."

So of course she acts like this now. Of course she wraps herself in forced smiles and gentle words. Because somewhere deep down, she still believes that if she slips, if she messes up, if she shows anything “ugly”...then no one will love her.

Jax was a grade A asshole for this one. No sugarcoating it. He knew how badly Ragatha wanted to be Pomni’s friend. He’s not clueless. So when he swooped in and started getting close to her? Of course it triggered Ragatha. You could practically see her flinch.

And that sting? It echoes through the rest of the episode five from that point onwards. Especially when they get to the ball game scene.

That was the moment Ragatha finally let some of that bottled-up frustration out. She flat-out called Jax out, asking why he was trying to influence Pomni into acting like some careless, insensitive jerk. And yeah, on the surface it seems like just another clash between the two of them, but if you look a little closer (and maybe I’m reaching this), there’s something deeper going on.

From earlier episodes, we’ve seen Ragatha has this habit of telling Pomni how she should feel. She does it in this oddly motherly tone, like she’s trying to guide her, but in a way that almost infantilizes her. In Episode Two, in the candy kingdom bit, Ragatha starts talking to Pomni like she’s a child and Pomni immediately shuts it down: “I’m not a kid.”

That wasn’t just sass.

That was a boundary.

And it clicked for me: Ragatha might be echoing her mother’s behavior here. That condescending tone disguised as “help.” The “cheer up, it’s not that bad” mindset. The insistence that things should be okay, instead of just lettingpeople feel. Maybe that’s all she ever knew. And now, she’s unknowingly replicating it.

So when she follows Pomni’s advice to “try being a jerk sometimes,” and it backfires, when Pomni looks at her, clearly uncomfortable, it hits Ragatha like a rock. That same feeling of rejection, all over again.

And did anyone else notice the glitch when she apologized? Because I sure as hell did. It was subtle, but holy fuck, please don't be the next abstraction!

Then came the "Pomni Saves the Day (Almost)" scene, when it’s her turn to bat. She asks Ragatha if she wants to take her place, to "redeem" herself from her earlier miss. And for just a second, Ragatha lights up. It’s this tiny flicker of hope. Maybe this is her chance. Maybe she can fix things.

Maybe she’s needed.

But then… the game was already over and they won before she had a chance to bat because their evil version is basically KO'd. She turns to Pomni and sees them.

Pomni and Jax. Laughing. Close. Connected.

And suddenly that hope? It deflates.

Just like in the stargazing scene, we get this physical distance motif again. Ragatha is always just far enough to see the connection—but never be part of it. And in that moment, you can see it on her face, this quiet, confused heartbreak. The kind of grief that doesn’t explode...it just sinks in. Like she’s trying to understand why her kindness, her effort, her presence was never enough. Why being “nice” only pushed Pomni further away.

That expression she gives, caught somewhere between confusion, disappointment, and slowly-processed loss? God, that got me. It wrecked me. Because in that moment, she’s not angry. She’s not dramatic.

She’s just... alone.

And then finally… the nail in the coffin. The moment where the silent divide between Pomni and Ragatha becomes undeniable. The moment the entire show has been quietly building toward since Episode One.

Ragatha, who has tried so hard to make Pomni smile. To be her rock. To forge a connection. She wants that closeness. She craves that intimacy. But instead, she watches as Pomni laughs, genuinely, mind you, and effortlessly at Jax’s antics. And the second Pomni notices Ragatha looking? Her smile drops. Instantly. That joy disappears, replaced by awkwardness, tension, that same guarded expression we’ve seen before.

And it says everything.

Pomni can’t be herself around Ragatha. She doesn’t feel safe doing so. She might think Ragatha is a “nice enough” person… but that’s it. That’s where the connection ends. She doesn’t let her guard down. Doesn’t let Ragatha in. Because Ragatha, in all her curated cheer, never really opens up either.

And then the show drives it home with brutal elegance: the group starts to drift off, one by one, naturally falling into their new little dynamics. And Ragatha? Left standing in the middle. Alone. Forgotten. No one turns to her. No one invites her. She’s just there.

For all the time she’s spent in the Digital Circus, Pomni managed to connect with everyone else. Even Jax. And that, right there, is pure devastation for me.

Because all Ragatha has ever known is people-pleasing. That’s how she survives. That’s what she was taught. Be the sunshine, be the good girl, be agreeable and comforting and helpful then you’ll be loved. Then you’ll be safe. But what happens when that mask doesn’t work? When it actually pushes people away instead of bringing them in?

She doesn’t know how to express her loneliness. She doesn’t know how to say, “I’m hurting too.” Because that’s not what was modeled for her. That’s not what her mother taught her.

And this...this right fucking here is why Gooseworx was so right when they said this was a Ragatha episode.

Because Ragatha’s character flaws, the heart of her tragedy, are brought into the light not by spotlighting her, but by quietly contrasting her with a pair of characters we never expected to bond: Jax and Pomni.

From the start, we’re fed this narrative: Jax is an asshole. He teases Pomni. He’s rude, smug, abrasive. And yet… Pomni starts to soften around him. She connects. She even laughs. And you start to wonder...why is he getting through to her when Ragatha can’t?

Because Jax, in his own messed-up way, gets real. He opens up. He admits things. He’s emotionally messy, but it’s genuine. And that rawness, that honesty, is something Ragatha can’t allow herself to show. So while Jax slowly reveals the depth beneath his snark, Ragatha clings to her role: the always-smiling, ever-positive comfort character.

And that contrast? It’s heartbreaking.

You see it at the very end. How alone she is. And the cruel twist? She’s probably the one who needs connection the most. But she’s so stuck in her pattern, so locked in that internalized belief that she has to perform to be loved, that she ends up isolating herself even further.

I can’t stop thinking about this: Ragatha feels like someone who’s spent her entire life just close enough to be seen, but never close enough to be reached. She’s the background character in her own life: present, smiling, helpful… and utterly alone.

And maybe the reason so many people felt like this episode was more about Jax than Ragatha is because we’re supposed to feel her slipping into the background. Just like the cast is starting to overlook her, we as the audience are starting to, too.

That slow fade?

It’s intentional.

Thank you for coming to my rant. I never done a character analysis before, but I just fucking love this series so much.

407 notes · View notes

welcome-tothe-mystery-shack · 3 days ago

Text

There's so much goodness in other reblog chaina (please go check them out!) but I have a slightly different idea in mind, because I'm a slut for the GhostKing!Danny trope.

(Sidenote: I'm writing this with a headache so please forgive me if it gets a little loopy or doesn't make sense at some points, I just wanted to get this out there before I forget.)

The meeting immediately screeches to a halt as the older heroes are struggling to keep their cool. On the one hand, they knew that ghosts function VERY differently from living beings, regardless of species. That a ghost's age and appearance don't have to match. But they also know that Phantom is still half alive (none of them understand how that works, not even Danny). That Danny's human half is 20, and his ghost half is only six.

Not to mention that in spite of his young age, for the last two years, he's been officially crowned High King of the Infinite and about this time last year he'd joined the JL. A fact that had made Constantine nearly faint.

The sorcerer had been petrified to learn that the Ghost King was now an ally, as the last he heard, the King had been Pariah. When he learned that the position had been usurped by not only a teenager, but a BABY GHOST? He'd been simultaneously relieved and stricken because if he'd been that strong as what was essentially the ghostly version of a toddler, then that had some heavy implications for the strength of said toddler once he came into his full power as an adult.

Now they were hearing that he was apparently having CONTRACTIONS? As in about to give birth?!

Batman spoke up, his voice a trained calm tone. "Would you please elaborate? Do you mean to tell us that you are currently in the process of... giving birth?"

Phantom blinked owlishly before sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "Ohhh crap, I totally forgot to tell you all didn't I? Umm to answer your question, yeah? But technically I have been for the last... what day is it? Tuesday?"

Someone nodded.

"For the last 4 days then. See, ghost pregnancies are, like most things with us, are really complicated. TECHNICALLY I'm not actually pregnant? But I also am? Basically my former arch nemesis tried to clone me after he largely gave up on trying to convert me to being his son and he failed. A lot. There were only 5 clones that survived long enough to form their own cores that he then sent after me. But I was stronger, and they weren't stable enough to last long and since they were 'failures', Vlad was gonna let them dissolve while he watched and studied them destabilizing."

The table creaked as Superman's grip on the rim tightened, but Phantom continued.

"I wasn't gonna let them End like that, they didn't ASK to be made, they were just babies that were doing what they could to please the only parent they knew they had. Four of them didn't last long at all and reverted to their cores pretty quickly, but one of them was stable long enough to help me against Vlad and went exploring on her own for awhile to try and learn who she was while I kept the other four in a tub of ecto. But when she started destabilizing too, she came back and we went to Frostbite and he said the only way to help them all was to incubate them next to my own core, so they could mirror its stability and be fed a constant flow of healthy ecto. So that's what I did."

The halfa shrugged as if it wasn't a massive bomb that he just dropped, only to add a second even bigger one. "Oh, and then an evil version of my ghost half from a dead timeline that fused with Vlad's ghost half started destabilzing in his timelocked prison, so I decided to incubate him too. Clockwork assured me that the chance of him trying to destroy the Earth again was extremely unlikely, so I wanted to give him a second chance too."

If they weren't in space, there would be crickets chirping as Phantom finally finished speaking.

Batman had to swallow the bile rising in his throat at the prospect of a 16 year old choosing to become a single parent to sextuplets created by a creepy old man. "I see... Where is this 'Vlad'?"

"He's rotting in Walker's prison for crimes against the crown, both before and after I took over, and many other crimes. Don't worry, he's also got no legal custody over my kids. Since he'd abandoned my clones and technically had no direct part in creating my evil version, the courts agreed that he has no right to any of them."

That was... mildly relieving. "You are being very mature about this." Wonder Woman added.

"I mean yeah? I had to grow up quick even before this, but if I had to make the choice again, I would." He smiled softly, resting a hand on his sternum, where they assumed the baby cores rested.

"If you've been in labor for four days, how much longer will this go on? Do you require medical assistance or accommodations?" Wonder Woman was worried for the young man, though she had to admire his dedication.

"Average pregnancies last beween 1 and 10 years, depending on the size of the..." He paused and looked thoughtful before continuing. "Litter, for lack of better translation. Once contractions begin, they last for up to a week until the ghostling's ready, then they're born one at a time, with usually a couple weeks to maybe a month or two between them. It's incredibly taxing on the parent's core, since we have to make sure that each one gets enough ecto to form a body. So the first one should be born any day now, and I'll be able to sense when. As far as accommodations, I just have to ask that no one goes into my quarters for now? Frostbite says that birthing parents get extremely territorial during and after giving birth so I'd rather not accidentally hurt anyone. I should be fine medically wise? I've got plenty of emergency ecto in my quarters. Ideally I'll be in my castle for the next few months, but knowing my luck, there'll probably be at least one world ending threat that needs my help."

"Understood. Thank you for sharing all this with us." She smiled softly at him as he returned one, embarrassed.

"No problem. Sorry for not bringing this up sooner, I genuinely thought I had."

"Don't worry about it, young Phantom. Just know that if you require any assistance, we are more than willing to provide it."

"Oh- um- thank you." He blushed, face turning a pale shade of green that made his silver freckles stand out more, his long ears drooping a tad. "I'll keep that in mind. Though I would appreciate any pointers from those of you with kids? I don't know what their temperments will be yet, but if they're anything like me, they're gonna be absolute gremlins." The whole table turned to look pointedly at Batman, whom sighed.

"I will provide you with a pamphlet, as well as a copy of Agent A's more simple meal and desert recipes. You are more than welcome to stop by the Batcave to pick them up at your convenience, as I am sure tha Agent A would like to guide you through some recipes if you are inexperienced."

"Woah really?!" Phantom perked up, eyes literally shining like neon green beacons. "That would be amazing! Thank you so much!"

Batman grunted quietly, though those that knew him well could see the amusement lingering in his body language. After a few more minutes, Phantom had to run, as another contraction hit and he wanted to visit his doctor to make sure that things were progressing properly. Once he was gone, silence settled over the conference table for several moments before Hal spoke up.

"So we're breaking into Walker's prison to beat that sonuva bitch into ectopulp, right?"

So if ghosts can revert into their core, what if Dani did when she was destabilizing?

What if cores needed a safe resting place with access to ectoplasm? And it's instinct for ghosts to protect and nurture cores. As they're very vulnerable.

Danny acting on instinct absorbs the core or cores??(other clones?) into his body. To keep them safe.

So he carries these cores around until they mature and are stable enough to take form.

However, this takes time, like years.

So I propose. Newest JL member Danny Phantom just suddenly gasping and keeling over in the middle of a meeting or fight??

JL members start panicking. Like wtf?? What's wrong with Phantom? An attack? Is he hurt?

Phantom just sits up and continues the meeting or fight like normal until it happens again and they're like " Are you hurt? Poisoned? What is it!"

Danny just shrugs and goes " It's fine, just contractions".

"Contractions?..."

"Yeah! They suck, but I'm glad they'll be here soon. It's been like 4 years".

Just the JL or whoever panicking and being super protective over there newest and youngest member, who, through a series of misunderstandings, thinks Phantoms been knocked up for 4 years by his arch nemesis.

#dc x dp #danny phantom #justice league #dpxdc #dp x dc prompt #idk should i tag this as mpreg?#i dont think it counts...technically?#ghost king danny

3K notes · View notes

urfavfakeblonde · 2 days ago

Text

Cₒcₖwₐᵣₘᵢₙg ₘₒb Bₒₛₛ!Bᵤcₖy

Bucky's a mob boss...and there are some incompetent men in his presence that don't seem to understand the importance of what he owns. Luckily, the sweet girl sitting on him can help him calm down.

Warnings: cockwarming, fingering fem!rec, implied violence, public!sex

I timidly enter the room, swallowing hard as I make eye contact with Bucky. He had this stern look on his face, like he was just about to single-handedly kill every man sitting around the table. I nervously bite my lip as he waves me over, continuing his conversation. "Look, Mr. Barnes, we can get you the money by next week. Someone robbed the storage unit last night, so we are short $500,000. If you could just give us more time-" the man was cut short as the door slammed shut. Everyone jumped in their seats, nervously straightening their ties. My breath shakes as I slowly walk over to Bucky, standing just off to the side of his chair. I hold out an envelope to him, biting my tongue. He lets out a deep sigh, staring down at the man currently twitching in his seat. "Where is this... perpetrator?" He asks, taking the envelope from my shaky hands. He glances up at my face as I dart my eyes towards the ground. His eyes drink in my appearance, clearing his throat before opening the paper. He reads while the man tries to explain himself on the matter, ultimately getting dragged away by one of the henchmen. Bucky sighs as he closes the paper, setting it on the table. He brings his attention to the other men who sit at the table, beads of sweat forming on each of their brows. "Anybody want to explain why your company has failed to return my money?" He asks, clicking his teeth. It's quiet for a moment as they all look at each other, clutching their hands tightly together.

Suddenly, he pats his lap, catching my attention. My face heats up as I swallow, nervously playing with my fingers. "Sit, sweetheart," he says cooly, glancing at the men before him, "since our guests are having difficulty finding words." I suck in a breath, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Look, we really don't have all day to discuss this, Mr. Barnes," another man says. However, Bucky continues to look at me, a smirk growing on his face. Slowly, he brings his hand to his belt as the man continues. My eyes grow wide at the actions, glancing at the man talking to distract myself. The man continues, completely oblivious that Bucky has taken his cock out of his trousers. "We can get you the money by next week, unless we find the man who stole from us. You, I mean." Bucky pats his lap again, tilting his head at me. I close the distance, scooting in front of him to sit. Bucky is quick to reach under my dress, moving my panties to the side as he sits me on his cock. I let out a gasp, gripping the edge of the table. I bite my lip as the men at the table nervously look down at the table. To them, it seemed that I was terrified of being so close to the mob boss. If only they knew how close I really was. Bucky lets out a satisfied sigh, letting a mocking smile form on his lips. "You know what this paper told me here?" He asks, leaning forward to pick up the envelope. This position pushed him in even further, pinning me to the table. I let out a shaky breath as to not let out a moan, knuckles white against the table's edge. "It says that you, Bruce, took out $500,000 from your company just last night. Interesting, isn't it?" The man at the end of the table stops breathing for a moment, eyes going wide as his co-workers look at him with shocked expressions. "T-that's not true, why would I do that?" He asks nervously, glancing at the broad-shouldered man guarding the door.

Bucky's grip on my waist tightens as my pussy unknowingly clenches around him, my focus faltering by the minute when he's just so deep. "You tell me. However, I'm sure you're very busy, so let's discuss this at a later time. Give you some time to remember," he says cooly, glancing at the henchmen guarding the door. He is quick to grab the man, dragging him out of his chair and out the door. The other men got up in a hurry, leaving the room as fast as possible. I gulp as I look over my shoulder at the man who has been inside me, unmoving, for the past 10 minutes. "Please," I whisper, cheeks heating up. He simply kisses my neck, letting his arms wrap around my torso to pull me into his chest. I let my head fall back against his shoulder, gasping as his cool hand pushes up my dress past my hips to rub small circles on my sensitive clit. I clench around him, tears brimming in my lash line. My hands grip the sides of the chair, heavy breaths spilling from my plump lips. Through all of it, all I could hear was the screams of the businessmen as I came around his cock.

"Good girl," he whispers, kissing me softly.

203 notes · View notes

momosweetpeach · 2 days ago

Note

This is in no way me trying to be like rude or hateful, so if it comes off that way I apologize.

Like I kinda understand the CoraLaw ship, I also like don't? For some reason my brain just views it as like almost grooming??? Idk, would it be possible for you to please further explain your view on the ship? Obviously you are under no obligation to do so, and it's fair of you think you shouldn't have to explain your thoughts on it. I am moreso just curious.

Regardless I absolutely adore your art, especially how you draw Penguin and Shachi.

This isn't rude at all, this is actually quite polite and civil! And also-

I shall go in depth below since it'll be a lot.

First and foremost, a lot of people seem to have a totally bastardized idea of what "grooming" actually even IS nowadays. It gets tossed around so much that people forget that the main trait is INTENTIONALITY. It is an INTENTIONAL process of manipulation and abuse for selfish reasons (similar to gaslighting). It is very hard to "accidentally" groom someone. You can give them the wrong idea, maybe, but that's not grooming. It originally means to basically prep and train up someone for a specific role later in life. Doflamingo uses this meaning of the term when talking about wanting to train Law up to become his righthand man.

Cora-san's character is LITERALLY DEFINED by his selflessness and sacrifices he makes to save Law's life. He doesn't expect anything in return. He acts on a sense of duty and then empathy. He suffers greatly in attempts to allow Law to survive and live freely, out from under the thumb of his brother.

Speaking of Doflamingo real quick, for some reason I feel like I see the ship of DofLaw get a lot less hate than CoraLaw despite the fact that they're in similar positions. Usually, because people have the headcanon of DadCora even though Law never views or refers to Cora as a father figure in any canon or spinoff material. If you have that headcanon, fine, whatever, but you have to remember that canonically, Law and Cora do not see their relationship as familial. That's part of the weight in the scene that Law has with Sengoku after Dressrosa. "Don't look for a reason for somebody's love."

Law didn't have to be family or important or anything for Cora to love him. He just did, if anything, from a sense of deepseated empathy and understanding of the pain that Law was going through.

Now- the actual shipping part of it.

It is also extremely difficult to groom someone if you are GONE FOR 13 YEARS.

The most commonly depicted manner of CoraLaw as a ship is Cora returning after 13 years, whether he secretly survived Minion Island, has been a ghost, was resurrected- whatever it may be, there is the gap of Cora being gone and assumed dead for over a decade. That is a LONG TIME to be separated from a person, and by the time you reunite, things will have changed, ESPECIALLY LAW. He is NOT the same person he was at age 13 anymore, obviously. He is a fullass grown adult at age 26 in the current canon. He has become an entirely new person with new strengths, confidence, and outlook on things.

Another important part of the ship to me...is that it is most often LAW who is pursuing CORA, not the other way around. LAW is the one who has spent all this time devoted to avenging Cora and being basically obsessed with honoring his memory and repaying the sacrifices that Cora made to him. The devotion is met in equal measures in that sense.

Their relationship as adults, 26 and either ALSO 26 or 39 (depending on if Cora is resurrected or has actually been alive this whole time) is them recognizing how things have changed and how their dynamic has now evolved into something totally different. Law isn't a kid that Cora can pick up like a football. He's an accomplished pirate captain. He was a warlord for a bit!!! He's an insanely powerful and scary guy tbh!!!

But Law still has a soft spot for Cora, still talks about him with an edge of kindness and love. Law would he terrified of admitting that he's perhaps developed feelings because of the fear of rejection from his most precious person, the one he owes everything to.

A lot of fics go with the mutual pining angle, both afraid of ruining what they have, despite the fact that things aren't the same as they were 13 years ago. It's an interesting space to explore and requires a lot of trust ans vulnerability on both ends-

No. It's not a conventional relationship by any means. I won't argue that. But that's why I like it, damnit. It's a fictional scenario that is largely impossible in our world, and it's a fun space to explore and to consider the depth of the affection they already have for one another, evolving into something different and new.

That's the main takeaway here tbh for me. It's FICTION. Literally no individuals are being hurt and it's not even ticking off any boxes of the usual Dead Dove sort of things so. Yeah

Jazz hands

#coralaw

112 notes · View notes

showsandstuff · 3 days ago

Text

OKAY I HAVE ANOTHER THEORY! This one is about Bunnydoll

I think the reason Jax says this about ragatha is because she tried to help Jax feel better after ribbit abstracted. But in pure Ragatha fashion, and just as Jax said, she pretended everything was fine. Ragatha is someone that means well and she is a huge people pleaser, but I can imagine that Jax didn't take that well. What's good about your friend basically "dying"? And maybe after that Jax realized that Ragatha wasn't genuine and that whatever she had told him throughout their years of... "Acquaintancesship" was meaningless. But I don't think that's true. I think that Ragatha, while she does bloom with toxic positivity, is not quite as disingenuous as Jax imagines her to be. I think she does genuinely care, and Jax needs to understand that.

I genuinely hope that he and Ragatha can make up somehow and become genuine friends. They're so similar but im opposite ways, I really want them to get along 💔

#the amazing digital circus #tadc ragatha #tadc jax #tadc spoilers #tadc ep 5 #bunnydoll #Or bunnydollish...?#I'm not sure if I ship them in a romantic way. I think I just really like their dynamic the most out of everyone's in the show #But also only after episode 5. Before I was curious about every dynamic but now I'm very hyped to learn more about Jax and Ragatha #Bunnydoll shippers please let me enter your circle 🥺🫶

125 notes · View notes

donat-senpai · 2 days ago

Note

Please I'm ON MY KNEES HERE, yandere maomao and Jinshi with a reader who puts EVERYTHING but that they like her and a yandere together like

Jinishi: "you must know that i-

Y/n:"no I know....... It's obvious. But maomao also know witch is WHY- *runs away, giggling because she set up a romantic date in her place and trapped maomao and Jinshi there*

Yandere!Maomao X Reader X Yandere!Jinshi Please don't read this if you are uncomfortable with the yandere! tw: Jealousy, rivalry, eunuch-related themes At some point I lost control and everything became a bit tense 😅

Part one, Part two, Part three, Part four

You were standing in a long corridor, barely remembering to breathe. The heavy silence pressed on your chest. You forced yourself to inhale… and slowly exhale. You could hear your own pulse ringing in your ears. Right in front of you — far too close to be appropriate — stood Jinshi with a strange expression on his face. Anyone walking by would’ve thought they’d caught a pair of secret lovers in the middle of something. He had stopped you, asking for a moment of your attention. His hand was still resting on your elbow. Mentally, you flipped through every possible wrongdoing you might’ve committed, bracing yourself to beg for mercy. Losing your position at the palace was not part of your plans. But then, suddenly, his expression shifted. Uncertain now, almost… shy?

“You should know that I…”

There it was! He wasn’t here to fire you. He just needed help with something. Nodding in understanding, you grabbed him by the shoulders (a gesture meant to offer your full support) and leaned in, whispering conspiratorially:

“No. I know. It’s obvious. But Maomao knows too. That’s why… I’ll help you!”

You pulled free from his grip and bolted down the corridor, giggling in triumph. Finally, full freedom of action! Not that the lack of it had ever really stopped you before, but with his blessing? Everything would go so much smoother now.

Jinshi remained where he stood, utterly and completely bewildered.

---

Maomao took a sip of tea and closed her eyes in contentment. You were sitting beside her, chirping about something or other. She was genuinely trying to listen, but the fatigue of the day was catching up to her. To her, your voice was the most calming sound in the world. She leaned in closer, resting her shoulder gently against yours. A faint scent filled her lungs — aromatic oil. For a moment, she felt like nothing could ruin this day. But then you suddenly shot to your feet, causing her to nearly lose balance as her support — your shoulder — vanished.

“Sorry! I just remembered I need to… do something. Wait here, okay? Please don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back!” You darted out of the room like a startled bird. Maomao, stunned (which was rare for her) stared after you.

Some time passed. The door opened again. Maomao was just about to ask what that had been all about, and was met with the most disappointing sight imaginable. “What’s HE doing here?” she thought. Jinshi stepped in. You flashed behind him, offering her an apologetic smile as you shut the door and locked it with a key.

“Looks like someone really wanted us to be alone,” Jinshi noted quietly, a faint smirk playing at his lips. He tried the doorknob — locked. “They asked for my help. Apparently, your presence brings the mood down.”

“Of course. Only they would think this is a good idea.” Maomao sat upright sharply, the drowsiness vanishing in an instant.

“Still, maybe it’s for the best. We do need to finally talk about… certain things.”

Maomao raised an eyebrow. Jinshi crossed his arms.

Outside, you pressed your ear against the door, holding your breath, eavesdropping. Everything was going perfectly. Any moment now one of them would crack and confess their feelings. They were so close, despite all that pompous irritation between them.

“These doomed relations have no future. You need to admit that to yourself and stop coming here,” Maomao said flatly.

“I could say the same to you,” Jinshi replied, his tone cold. “Do you really think you can keep pretending to be just a friend? If you cross the line, everything you worked so hard to build will fall apart.”

You tensed. They had never spoken this coldly around you before. What was happening? This was supposed to be a confession, but it sounded more like… threats.

“I’ll figure out what to do. Besides, you’re a eunuch. You’re hardly of any use.”

“I have wealth. Power. I can provide this. What can you offer? Timid touches when no one’s watching?” Jinshi’s voice was calm, as though her insult hadn’t touched him in the slightest.

“And yet I’m the one staying with them when you're off doing whatever your duties require. I’m the one making sure they’re safe. I’m there when things go wrong. And when things are good too. They laugh with me. They’re happy with me. So don’t pretend that their joy is thanks to your rare, lazy appearances.”

Maomao’s composure finally cracked. She didn’t raise her voice, but her fury filled the room. Silence followed. Your knees buckled, and you barely managed to stay standing, gripping the door for support. You had completely lost track of the conversation. You had no idea what they were even talking about anymore. But one thing was painfully clear: this was not going according to plan. Now they were fighting. You had to do something. You had to intervene before it got worse.

“Is Lord Jinshi in there?”

You flinched. Gaoshun’s voice rolled through the corridor like distant thunder.

You threw yourself in front of the door, arms spread as if your body alone could shield the truth. As if that would help.

“N-no! He’s… um… not here!” You smiled nervously, your voice shaky.

Gaoshun slowly raised an eyebrow. And then came the look. That infamous “disappointed father” stare, honed through years of diplomacy, dealing with difficult subordinates, and raising children of his own.

“You again.”

You dropped your gaze in shame, unlocking the door with one hand. Then you stepped aside and opened it.

Well. That date was over.

Jinshi left the room at once. You didn’t dare look at him, simply watching him leave from the corner of your eye. He didn’t stop and didn’t look back. Just walked away disappointed. Gaoshun followed.

Yeah… maybe they hadn’t figured out their feelings yet. But you knew. You could feel it. You saw it. And someday (absolutely) they’d understand it too.

…Wait. Who were they talking about?

You didn’t get the chance to dwell on that thought, because a thoroughly annoyed Maomao grabbed your wrist and dragged you back into the room, clearly ready to scold you.

Taglist: @iamrgo, @hellishdevotee, @levifiance, @bloodypawzies, @greensunflowerjuna, @jackiebluh, @thefawnmadeofstars,

(I hope I haven't forgotten anyone)

#yandere x reader #yandere #the apothecary diaries #yandere maomao #maomao x reader #yandere maomao x reader #jinshi x reader #yandere jinshi #yandere jinshi x reader #yandere the apothecary diaries

112 notes · View notes

bookvvitch · 1 day ago

Text

So You Unknowingly Agreed to an Arranged Marriage With a Demon Lord: Now What?

Chapter 2

WC: ~ 3,500

CW: demon x human, demon x reader, fem!reader, monsterfucking, male masturbation, cursing, sexual content. Proof read but no beta.

Link To Masterlist

You were fairly young when you’d first watched Alvin And The Chipmunks Meet The Wolfman.

It was all downhill from there.

Presently, it’s lost on you how many years you’ve been pining for a monster to unleash from the dark, dank woods behind your home and ravage you. Or let you ravage them, either way works. Sure, you went through all of the usual childhood monster experiences, like checking under the bed each night; but you didn’t want a guardian in there to check with you. Whatever was under there, you wanted to be alone with it. Therein is where the difference lies.

You mull these these things over as your handmaiden, Eisheth, readies you for bed.

“It’s interesting how you need to sleep each night,” she tuts, folding your day clothes over her forearm.

Her eyes gleam silver in the fuzzy light of gas lamps in your quarters, which hang overhead from a hook so massive your hand couldn’t clasp around it. You’ve never felt so incredibly small in your life as you do here. The mattress in your room is as large as two king-sized beds pressed together, the comforter so stuffed with some sort of down that someone of your fragile human stature would consider it weighted. Eisheth herself stands at roughly six and a half feet tall. She’s much more willowy than Astaroth. Built like a ballet dancer. Like a wraith.

“Do you not?”

“I sleep some nights, when I feel the need. My Lord barely sleeps. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen him in his bed to rest, and I’ve been serving him for the better part of a century now.” She brushes a few stray locks of stark white hair back behind a caprine ear. You can’t help but notice how demons are beautiful creatures. It’s no wonder that they’re considered fallen angels back home. Perhaps that’s why he didn’t respond to you with a matched enthusiasm.

“Do, um..” You shift uncomfortably atop your stool, one which Eisheth was adamant you utilize for this purpose. It may be a bit more of a challenge than you had initially thought to understand the mannerisms here. “Do I not meet his standards? Lord Astaroth, I mean. He seemed kind of disappointed.”

Eisheth peers owlishly at you when she replies, “No, Mistress! Of course not!” She slips a sheer nightgown overtop your head. The thing nearly swallows you whole, which she clicks her tongue at, smoothing the fabric along your back. “You are an exquisite specimen. Why, just look at how soft you are. Your skin feels as does a babe’s. And you’ve got such large, expressive eyes. Humans are such adorable things. So pretty. You are no exception to that, Mistress, I assure you.”

You flush at her praise. You don’t recall if anyone has ever been so forward with you about your appearance, aside from those who wished to bed you in the past, though you had been positive they were only trying to butter you up.

“Well,” you avert your eyes, apprehension apparent in your tone, “he didn’t seem to be interested when I made.. advances.”

“Oh my.” She grins, toothy and wide, before snapping back to her composure once more. “My Lord is a rough man, Mistress. Quite fearsome. He has not been treated so kindly, and gentleness is something unknown to him.”

A shiver wracks your body at the thought. “He won’t be gentle with me, then?”

“Forgive me, Mistress, that’s not what I meant. I’m sure he will be gentle when he takes you as his bride.”

“Damn,” you mutter to yourself.

This night, you dream that it’s him lurking beneath your bed.

————

When you wake, you’re lead by Eisheth to a large dining table carved from heavy wood, your seat right next to the end. You’re able to dangle your legs from the chair in a way you haven’t known since you were a little girl.

“I still don’t understand why I could not dress you yet, Mistress,” Eisheth speaks softly with a quirk of her brow.

“Humans like to stay in their pajamas for a while,” you lie outright. “It’s a cultural thing, indulge me.”

Yeah, pajamas are comfy and all. But this thing is such a far cry from opaque that it may as well be woven from spider’s silk. Not to mention they didn’t have any undergarments small enough to fit you. The workers gawk only briefly, holding their leers captive, afraid to stare too long and risk their lord’s wrath.

And they should consider themselves blessed that they did so. Astaroth arrives while an imp sets a glass of water next to your plate, the staff all bowing at his presence. He looks disheveled, hair tangling around his horns, the raven mane somewhat knotted down his back. With the collar of his shirt rumpled and stained with sweat, you can see the shading of runes that mar his skin like a tattoo. He rolls up the sleeves to reveal that the fur along his chest, and presumably his back and stomach, trails along to his elbows. His arms bulge with muscles and line with scars, tail twitching anxiously, pupils blowing out once they lock onto you.

Delicious.

You need him.

“Oops, oh no, oops!” You simper, and knock the water onto yourself, splashing it down the entire front of your gown until the fabric is translucent from your breasts to your pelvis.

The material clings to you, sopping across the hardened peaks of your nipples and further dampening your thighs. It pools there. Clings to you like a second skin. Two pointed canines are revealed as his upper lip catches in a snarl.

“Eisheth,” he calls with a rise from his seat, “dress her for the day. She will catch her death of cold in this clothing.”

When he exits, you slam your fist into your thigh, brows creasing in vexation. Now you’re two kinds of thirsty and two kinds of wet with nothing to show for it. Eisheth takes you back to your quarters with quiet resolve. Laces you into some stupid red dress with a high collar and—okay, actually, this goes pretty hard. Even more so when she fixes your hair with several pins and dried flowers, planting you firmly in front of an intricate mirror, the table it rests upon adorned with powders and rouge.

“He hates me, Miss Eisheth,” you plait a heavy sigh into your words.

“No, Mistress. He is shy,” she snickers under her breath. “But if you tell him I relayed this information to you, I shall deny it up until my grave.”

Your lashes flutter. “He’s shy?”

“That’s right. Not that he would admit such a thing.”

“Is he a virgin?”

“I’m unfamiliar, Mistress.”

“W-well, I just… has he been with someone sexually?”

Her face smatters red. She casts her gaze to the tiles when she tells you, “I’m certain he has, though it has been quite some time for him now. A few decades, perhaps. And not once has he courted a human.”

You hone in on your reflection. Steel yourself. “Will you tell him anything we talk about in here?”

A ghost of a smile tugs at one corner of her mouth. “Of course not, Mistress.”

“Then tell me,” you gather some powder onto a puffed brush, “as someone who has worked with him for so long, what would happen if I were to tease him?”

“Tease him?” Her eyes scan the room for an answer. “As in, call him on his flaws?”

“No, like.. let’s say I tempt him. Make him want me until he can’t stand it any longer.”

Silver eyes bolt wide. “Oh, Mistress, don’t do such a thing! Lord Astaroth will unleash himself upon you with such fury!”

You smirk, dotting red cream onto your lips with the tip of your pinky finger all the while.

“Okay. I'm ready now.”

A twinge of concern still lingers in her expression.

“Lord Astaroth, Mistress has been dressed for the day,” she announces your arrival to the room.

His spine pulls taut as a kite’s string when you descend the winding staircase, adorned in deep scarlet hues, your skin shimmering with heat. Those painted lips of yours flash him a grin. He swallows the knot in his throat.

“I apologize for my clumsiness this morning,” the gamine tone you offer him has him close to falling to his knees. “I hope you’ll forgive me, Lord Astaroth.”

He struggles to subdue the shaking of his limbs upon hearing you say his name.

“Do you like how Miss Eisheth dressed me for you?”

Waves of warmth bite at his flesh, his resolve vanishing beneath the churning waters of your voice. The bend in his neck feels much too flexible when he nods in confirmation.

“Will you say it?”

He takes a half-shuffled step back.

You match his stride in pursuit.

He can barely sputter, “S-say it?”

“Mhm,” the surreptitious edge which rolls from your tongue has him weak. “I wanna hear you say that you like it.”

Perspiration dots his brow. The scent of you slams into him, dancing on the air, saccharine and sanguine. The last thing he expected of you was for you to approach him this way. Humans have always been such timid, delicate things in his experience. Yet, here you are, eyes boring holes through his own while you confront him head-on.

He loathes to admit it, but you’re making him nervous. He doesn’t know what to do with your reactions. How to place them in his mind. Never in his life has a woman thrown herself at him like you did last night—like you’re probably doing right now. Not without an ulterior motive, anyway.

But you look like lust. You smell like sin. And those pretty eyes of yours are all glassy and soft, just as satiny as he imagines you to be inside. He can’t stand it. The thought alone has him aching in his trousers.

“I like it,” he croaks, goosebumps prickling down to the point of his tail.

You let out a husky giggle that hits him right in the gut. “I’m glad.”

His shoulders slack when you walk away, sagging with relief and unclenching his muscles to release the breath he’d been suppressing. Of all the beasts he’s known, you stand to be the most unholy. You’re clearly out for blood. Hexing him.

It is for this purpose and this purpose only that he decides he needs to keep an eye on you throughout the day. He has to better understand the witchcraft you’re using.

You’re just as beautiful when you don’t know he’s watching you. When you’re fitted for shoes that will secure to your tiny feet. When you’re smelling the perfumes Eisheth offers, foreign scents that result in a tilt of your head and a scrunch of your nose. When you’re perusing the library and grow frustrated upon the realization that the texts are unreadable to you.

But especially when, in that same library, you gaze at the portrait that’s hung on the southern wall. He’s daunting in the painting. Menacing, despite the neutrality he attempted to maintain. Yet, you look up with these sparkling, dinner plate eyes. He’s confused at first when you drag a chair over to the wall, struggling all the while to lug the cumbersome object behind you. Then, grabbing hold of the scaffolding for security, you close your eyes and give his likeness a tender kiss on the mouth.

The arch of your lashes drape delicately above your cheekbones, puckered lips gentle against the canvas. He’s never felt so incredibly gone in his entire life. It’s dastardly, what you do to him.

His restraint hangs from a single, fraught thread upon watching you prepare for your bath. You’re in this too-large robe, sweetly comforting Eisheth as she reprimands herself for not bringing you fresh towels. She leaves you with an apology.

You’re alone with him and you don’t even know it.

His pulse thrums, blistering through his extremities and into the tips of his digits. He wants you. By the Goddess, does he fucking want you. And it seems like you desire him, too. However, seeing you here, all but disrobed in front of him, is wearing his patience down to the width of a razor’s edge. He cannot risk how difficult it would be for him to hold back if he were to have a taste of you. He wouldn’t be able to control himself.

Hunger gnaws at his center, throbbing in spite of you not having touched him—hell, he hasn’t even touched him—and the awareness of his vulnerability crashes against him in a relentless tide. This is beyond terrifying. He traces his fingertips over the uneven seam of a scar which runs from the line of his jaw down to his clavicle. A reminder of the battles he’s won. Of the strength and power he embodies.

Yet, this is what has him afraid.

The orange light of a candle’s flame scatters across your skin, painting you in shifting shades of honeyglow. His name falls from your lips. Scalds him.

The scent of you mixes with that of the terrace when the breeze picks up, circling within the wet stone and petrichor. Your robe is clutched tighter, skin nipped with wind’s chill. Now you look a bit confused, gaping at the tub’s handle, clearly unsure of how the to work the mechanism. You’re too busy rolling your eyes at the ridiculousness of needing assistance with drawing your own bath to realize that the water is heating up far too quickly when you nudge the knob, your opposing hand placed within the stream.

“Ouch!” You hiss, jerking away from the steam.

In an instant, he reacts. Sweeping you off of your feet and into the crushing heft of his arms, he bounds backwards from what’s harmed you, your head cradled in the callouses of his palm. You gaze up at him, stars in your eyes, chest heaving erratically. The robe has come open to expose long swaths of your skin, barely covering what little modesty you have left to protect.

His grip tightens until his claws bite into the plush flesh of your leg, and your back arches in response, the pressure of him just enough to have you squirming. A gasp is caught behind his teeth, and you tremble at the sight of him, sore and frustrated and well past the threshold of your tolerance. There’s a pleasant warmth spreading in your core, eyes growing hazy when you part your lips to let loose a quivering sigh.

You weren’t supposed to find out he’s been watching you. In fact, death by hurling himself out of the tower window would have been preferred to this humiliation. The sharp heat of embarrassment pinches at his cheeks.

“I-I’m sorry,” slides from the weight of his tongue. “I didn’t mean.. I shouldn’t have…” He curses to himself. “Are you alright?”

You can feel the shaking of his arms now, his heart rate kicking up, adrenaline coursing so forcefully he fears he may meet the fates. Careful fingertips graze up the length of his chest atop layers of obstructing fabric. You curl your fist into his shirt. The desire to have his mouth slotted against yours sticks to you, catapults your pulse to your sternum.

Your tone is wispy and subdued when you say, “I’m okay.”

Static snaps across the air as his brows knot, jaw clenching, your hips instinctually circling in a pitiful bid for friction. He is so senselessly conflicted. Vying for you. Need racketing within his bones. He wants to feel you pillow under his teeth, leave you stained with red, raw lines from his nails. It’s an urgent, oppressive longing that seeps into the air like the brutal, wet cry of his name he wants to wrench from those pretty lips.

“Please,” the unbearable burn of your voice accumulates within him.

A choppy exhale fans over your face. His tongue wets his lips, mere seconds from leaning in so he can—

“Mistress, I’ve retrieved the towels. They’re freshly laundered and quite soft. You may enjoy your bath now!”

Footsteps echo down the hall, and he sits you back on the tub’s ledge. Delicately, as though you’re made of glass. He wholly ignores what’s just bubbled between you. With a sharp turn on his heel, he leaves you there.

Ah, hell. There goes your chance at getting your guts rearranged tonight.

————

Astaroth enters his quarters with a stifling sort of calm. One that festers and boils. He pants with an open mouth while he leans against the wood of his door. You make him feel as though he’s in a rut, a slave to these base desires which tear him to shreds from the inside out. He can still smell you on him. That heady, musky scent of the greed at your center. Shit, and the way your nipples hardened under your soaked gown, how he’s sure they would become even more stiffly peaked if he were to slide his forked tongue across them.

The tangled mess of his restraint unspools.

“Fuck,” he growls, impatiently shucking his trousers to reach for the pulsing length within, taking in a sharp breath as he wraps his fingers around his shaft.

He thinks about how he could pull apart your thighs, slam his tongue into the slick folds there, suck on the bud at your apex until your legs clamp shut like a vice around his temples. He salivates at the imagery he’s conjured. But he doesn’t want to be as gentle with you as he’s sure you require him to be. No. He wants you sloppy, and fucked-out, and wrecked by the time he’s done with you.

A particularly rough glide of his thumb over his tip causes him to shudder out a groan. He wonders if you’d touched yourself to him last night the way he is to you. If you had your fingers stuffed into your pussy while you thought of him pounding you from behind like the animal he is.

What do you sound like when you cum? Do you throw your head back in ecstasy? Will your nails cut sharp into his shoulders if you ride his face?

You’d begged earlier.

Fucking begged.

God, he wants more of that. He needs to hear you choke out sob, a plea for him to keep going as he spears you on his cock. The claws of his feet dig into the wooden floors, carving slashes into the herringbone pattern, marking up the intricate pieces like he wishes he could do to your back.

“I’ll make sure everyone can see it’s me who owns you,” he rasps, spitting onto his hand before he gives one long drag into it. “Gotta make sure you know that cunt’s mine. Mmmff, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Maybe, since you yearn for him so desperately, he can watch the tears well up in your eyes while you gag on his thick cock. Your mouth looks so small. It’s sure to be a tight fit for you, mouth or otherwise. But you’ll take it. He’ll make sure that you take every last inch he gives you. The thought of your snug, pliant cunt swallowing him up as you struggle to accommodate him shreds his sanity to ribbons, a man who’s spent the day losing a fight within himself.

His straining erection jumps in his hand, precum dripping from the slit, about to break his teeth with how harshly he grinds them together to keep any of these lewd sounds from slipping out. Your hand would feel so much better than his, so much softer. He sinks his teeth into his lower lip, biting back a whimper. A string of spit hangs from his mouth as he curls into himself, twisting so that his forehead rests against the wall, hunched over and covered in a sheen of sweat as he fucks into his fist like a beast in heat. He shivers as a low, guttural growl erupts from him, and he strokes himself faster, hips mindlessly bucking when he spreads the pearls that leak from him for lubrication.

“This what you wanted? To make me crazy? Ahh—fucking bet it was. Bet you’ll beg me to fill you up ’til I’m empty. Gonna.. oh, f-fuck!”

Cum splatters onto the wall, thick and hot, his cock throbbing mercilessly, balls tightening and fangs stabbing into the meat of his lip until pricks of blood dribble out. He muffles a moan that releases from the back of his throat, spasming in his palm, pawing at himself through the orgasm which spurts across his digits.

As he catches his breath, he makes up his mind. He doesn’t care if you’re a witch.

You want to fuck a demon?

Fine.

He’ll let you have it.

#smut #monster fucking #monster x reader #monster x human #demon smut #demon oc #demon x human #demon x reader #fictional men #human monster romance #monster smut #terato #teratophillia #terat0philliac #demon fucker

95 notes · View notes

ao3commentoftheday · 3 hours ago

Note

i'm sort of struggling dealing with jealousy in my fandom.

there is a character i'm very fond of in the source material. we don't know a lot about them, they never directly appear in the story and we only have a handful of information that we know is canon for sure. so that means a lot about this character is left up to audience interpretation, down to something as surface-level as their physical appearance. it's already a very niche fandom, and i write and draw for this character.

for about three years, i have been subject to vagueposting by some big name fans who are very invested in discussing canon lore. they have never mentioned me by name, and in their vagueposts they act as though there are multiple artists or authors who portray this version of the character the way i do... when i know it's just me. i have never spoken to them directly. i wish them no ill will. but they have said some truly hurtful, nasty things about my version of this character behind my back without mentioning me by name.

this is where the jealousy comes in. i never got a huge amount of attention when i started writing and drawing art for this fandom, but i suspect that because in these bnfs' vagueposting people know they're talking about me specifically, they stay away from my work because these bnfs talk about how my interpretation is bad. this is, to be fair, kind of far-fetched.

really, what makes me upset is that i was never an artist or writer who got a lot of attention in the first place when these bnfs have been into this source material for a few years more than i have, and have a significantly larger following and circle of friends than i do. yet they choose to go after me and say some truly rude things about my characterization work behind my back when they're also making things up... just that their work is more popular.

i have blocked and muted these people, and continue to do so when i run into others who speak rudely of me behind my back. when i write fic, i link to my social medias (not ko-fi. i understand ao3's policies about that) to my social media page - call it shallow, but i really do want to spend more time with other people and chat with other fans about my interpretation. but i'm not sure what more i can do to healthily manage my jealousy and upset at these people for saying rude things behind my back. part of me wants to confront them about it, but i'm a very short-tempered person and i don't want to end up making things worse.

I'm so sorry anon *hugs* This situation sucks, and I wish you weren't in it.

From everything you've written here, it doesn't sound like you're experiencing jealousy? Like, everything you're describing is hurt feelings due to people maligning your work and your character.

The part that you might be interpreting as jealousy, I'm reading as loneliness or feelings of isolation in your fandom. You want to have people to talk to and share ideas with. That's totally understandable, and it's actually something that most of us want too.

I'm glad that you've already blocked and muted those folks. That was 100% a smart move to make. Keep that kind of negative energy as far away as possible, and you're much more likely to find peace.

When it comes to finding people to talk with, you might have to take a more active role. Sharing your social media is one step, but it relies on the other person reaching out in order for that to be successful. You might have better luck if you're the one who sends the first message.

I know that can feel intimidating, especially in a space where you know people are talking shit about you. Try starting with just one person. If someone leaves a like on your artwork or a kudos/comment on your fic, try sending them an ask or replying to their comment with a question for them to respond to. By starting with someone who has already given you a positive response, you might have less to worry about?

There isn't really anything you can do to stop mean people from being mean to you. Keep doing what you're doing on that front, and focus your energy on finding people who are actually nice. I hope you find them ❤️

#asks and answers #long post

84 notes · View notes

leoascendente · 1 day ago

Text

PAC/ What Universe has in store for you 🦋

Hi my loves! Here you have a new pick a card. As always, take a deep breath before choosing your pile, chosose the one that calls your attention the most, you can choose more than one pile if you feel it.

My blog in Spanish here

My other social media here

Private readings here

All pics are from pinterest, credits to their owners

Pile 1:

Welcome pile 1! I have really good news for you my dear because Universe has peace and harmony in store for you, specially for those who have been through a rough period of your lives. This feels like the calm after the storm, where you can finally rest and enjoy the peace, it is also a period of growth, you already planted the seed, now you just have to let it grow and enjoy the fruits. This is also a time to reconnect with your inner child so don't hesitate to invest on hobbies or activities that you enjoyed as a child, this is carefree and lighthearted energy, like a big release of worries and just space for peace of mind and spirit. If you have a dog pet you are being called to spend more time with them, if not, this may be a sign to get a pet, especiallly if you really desired it as a child but never got one. Also there's a message here about disconnecting from the outside world's noise and for some, to not spend so much time on social media

Pile 2:

Hi pile 2! Universe has enlightment and spiritual wisdom for you in your near future, this feels like an spiritual awakening but on steroids (I'm writting this at 15:55 on my clock). It's like you have already learnt your lessons and cleared your karma so now you have the chance to understand better the mysteries of the world, this is a new level of knowledge. You may experience some headaches or exhaustion but it is totally normal because of your third eye opening, take your time to rest because you could also be experiencing astral traveling or communication with ascended masters through your dreams. All this enlightment will show you the direction you should take in life, almost like finding out your soul purpose, it will involve positive changes that will align you with happiness and satisfaction about your life. For some, be careful if you don't want to become a parent yet, for others, you'll be very fertile, not just in your goals but physically so it will be a good moment if you want to start trying to get pregnant

Pile 3:

Have you been manifesting romance, pile 3? Because that's what is on the horizon for you, I see a wish fulfillment in regards to your love life, especially for those who have been single for too long or never had a romantic partner. There's someone who has their eye on you and it seems like it has been this way for a long time, like admiring you from afar, you might even can sense the energy of this person even though you might not know who they are in the 3D. This person has bear vibes, maybe even the bear is their spirit animal, but for what I sense, this is someone protective, calmed, secure and reliable (I'm seeing Tommy from TLOU show lol). I'm also seeing that you'll be receiving an unexpected gift, it can come from this romantic suitor but it could also be from somebody else, also I'm getting that the planetary movements will be impacting your life, and if you see a shooting star don't forget to make your wish

#witchblr #leoascendente #tarot #tarotblr #pac reading #divination witch #pick a pile #tarot reading #tarotonline #tarot spread

92 notes · View notes

mommy-mortis · 9 hours ago

Text

"Glory"

Remmick x Black!reader

Prompt: "Oopsy, you weren't supposed to see that"

Summary: Remmick is on the move.

Notes/Warnings: Smut, Fake Marriage

Search →Location→Gigs→Domestic gigs

Fake Wife needed Compensation: Negotiable

Fake wife needed, single male with a rare and severe sun allergy that makes it impossible to go out in the day looking for a Wife. Pretend to be my wife and deal with social and legal daytime obligations that I may have trouble completing.

Requirements

• Must have a well kept appearance, wear appropriate attire while preforming outside social interactions, to keep up with social expectations.

• Accompany Husband(me) to social events when asked, and keep up agreeable behavior while at said events.

• Stay out of the basement.

Benefits

• Living in a fully furnished home for free.

• Monthly Allowance.

• Full access to house (not including basement) to decorate as desired.

post id: 785XXXXXX posted: about 15 hours ago ♥

You stare at a Gregslist posting that you had stumbled upon, trying to find something quick and easy enough that could help with the rent that was already past due. It screamed Gregslist killer, but if it was real maybe you could get out of this shit hole, maybe you could start over with your life.

The only reason you were even in this situation was because you chose to trust the wrong person; you had both moved from your hometown over a thousand miles away to seek your fortune in the cities. You were supposed to look out for one one another but they had ditched you, gotten married to someone of some means and peaced out. And without even paying their share of the rent, forcing you to scramble for ends. You were able to scrounge up the money for the first couple years after their departure, by using your saving and the kindness of your family, but you just couldn’t do it anymore.

This wasn’t living, this was surviving; all your dreams had been thrown out the window when they pulled their bullshit stunt. “I just don’t want to struggle anymore,” this is what they said as they packed, neither of you had been truly struggling, not like you are now. Both of your goals had been close enough to touch, and in a year or so they could have accomplished all that they wanted; they just didn’t want to work anymore. Which you could understand, but how could they leave so easily without even asking if you’d be okay? Everyday that you woke up, would be more heartrendingly painful than the next. Looking over at the empty pantry that you never seem to keep full, to the empty pet bowl to a picture of a pet that you had to surrender to the state just so they wouldn’t go hungry, to the barren décor; what did you even have to lose? At a certain point who even cared if they were a killer? You weren’t living anyway.Hello,

I saw your listing on Gregslist, and would like to audition for the role as your Wife. Attached are a few pictures of me, if I look like your ideal wife give me a call at (XXX-555-2564) hope to hear from you soon.

A day goes by without any answer so you decide to take a peek at the listing again to see when the last time he was on, and your heart sinks immediately.

Either he chose someone else, or (and the most likely reason) it was a fake ad that got taken down. You’re seconds from crying when your phone rings.

“Hello.”

“Yes…”

“Right now…Shades…”

“Yeah I’ll be there in…”

He wanted to meet you at the 24hour diner down the street from your apartment. The fact that he chose to meet you at a place with witnesses, was a positive sign that he wasn’t a serial killer right? It’s so late at night though, it must be hard to navigate life with an allergy to the sun.

You wasted no time getting dressed and walking to the diner where a man stood off to the side with shades, ‘That must be him’ you walk up to greet him. “Well, hello there Sweetheart.” You can't place where he’s from, he must travel often enough to develop an ambiguous accent. ‘Was that even possible?’ You had been a little taken back by his easy use of endearments, but maybe that was just something he had picked up like the accent.

You don’t know what you were expecting him to look like but this wasn’t quite it. He did look clean and put together, but he dressed like someone over half a decade older than him, it felt like he was trying to prove… maybe even trying to hide something. The only thing that seemed to be out of place on him, were the pair of tinted shades he had on. You wanted to ask about his clothing, but decided against it, the last thing you wanted to do was shame him for his choice in fashion. Not when you were in stuck in such a deep hole, practically begging for help.

Though he must have already realized you were on your last match, you're guessing that's the only reason he placed an ad on gregslist, only a desperate person would reply. It wasn't like he was hideous, it was actually quite the opposite; since he wasn't completely irredeemable in the looks area, this could only mean that he was so morally bankrupt that no one in his circle wanted anything to do with him.

He cleared his throat snapping you of the mental gymnastics your mind was doing, trying to find out what was wrong with this man. “Would you mind inviting me in?” He smiles “One of my many eccentricities that I’m hoping you’ll have the patience for.” Was this a kink thing? You wave him forward as inconspicuously as you can, not wanting anyone to witness whatever kink play he was having you perform, no matter how small.

He smiles walking past you, he chooses a seat in the back of the dinner where you both sit in silence, until the waitstaff comes around asking to get you refreshments. You could afford enough for a water, so that's what you order, while he orders ¾ a cup of black coffee. As the waitstaff nods and walks away he can't keep his eyes off you.

“The photos don’t do you justice you are quite beautiful.” You nod thanking him for his complement, but couldn’t see what he was seeing. You hadn’t worn anything special to impress him, just what was clean and made sense. You complemented him back, and wondered if it would be too forward to let him know that he made your pussy clench when you first met, or would that be outta pocket?

Before you can think any harder on the subject, the waitstaff comes back around; they place down your drinks and ask you what you’d like to order. You clam up, you couldn't even afford a proper drink, there is no way you'd be able to afford anything on the menu, maybe if you ask for half a piece of toast.

Noticing your inner struggle, he tells the waitstaff that you'd like more time. Lightly brushing his hand over yours he leans in, “Have whatever you want don’t worry about the bill.” Embarrassed but grateful for his discretion, you nod, thanking him for his generosity. And when the waitstaff comes back around you order something that you know that you'll like, not wanting to waste his money.

You watch as he orders something similar. “So… Remmick what do you do for work?” ‘That was a safe enough question right?’ “Restoration and Preservation” he gives you a smile but says nothing else, your not sure how to follow up with that. He seems content to just sit there in silence enjoying the heat coming from his coffee, though he never seems to take a sip.

Neither of you say another word, not even when your food arrives. You wait a second for him to begin eating, but when he just sits there not moving you decide to start without him, not commenting on the lack of bites he takes from his own plate. This seems to have been the correct thing to do, because when you’re finished eating he smiles at you; ‘Was he a feeder? It wasn’t exactly serial killer behavior but you’d think he’d be upfront with something like that.’

When the waitstaff comes back around to take payment, they notice the food still sitting on his plate, they ask if everything was alright, and if they could make him something different. He just waves them off, asking for a to-go container instead, when they come back with his receipt and containers, he thanks and tips them before they walk away.

When you're finally alone again, he slides his untouched plate over to you, handing you the containers. “Here pack this up for me, Darlin’,” you do as your told, packing everything neatly away, even putting the container in the paper bag that was left on the table for it. He nods and smiles, but you're truly confused to what you've done to put him in such an agreeable mood.

“Yea’ I think this” he says pointing between him and you “Is gon’ work out just fine” He flags down a random worker and asks for a pen and paper, he then writes down an address with a date and time. “I’ll have a moving truck pick you up, just be ready.” He pulls out a few hundred dollars, you eye the money with far more hunger than you mean to. Embarrassed you look away, just so he doesn’t see the desperation in your eyes.

He taps his finger on the diner table to get your attention, your head snaps in his direction and behind his shades, you see he has a hunger too just a different kind. “Here’s fir yer time, and don’t you go on tryin’ to pay the movers, they’ve already been compensated, kay?” He hands you the money with the slip of paper on top of it.

You start to get up to leave, but he gently grabs your hand before you can fully get going. “I don't think we ever gave each other our names,” His hands are freezing making you shiver, no wondered he ordered that coffee. You tell him your name and he nods picking up the bag of left overs, with a couple of fingers he hands them to you. “Name’s Remmick, Remmick O’Connell and I think we’ll be gettin’ on just fine.”

You make your way safely home placing your leftovers in the fridge; you weren’t quite sure what to think about Remmick, he was most certainly a weirdo, but you couldn't figure out what kind. A knock comes from your apartment door, and your heart droops; did he follow you home? Great now he was going to kill you and take his money back, you were going to be broke even in the afterlife.

You quickly walk over to your door to look through the peep hole, you let out a deep sigh not from being relived but from frustration. Standing front of your door was the owner of the property, they never missed a day to harass you, you open your door but before you have a chance to ask them what they want they begin yelling.

“So you have enough money to eat out but not enough to pay me my money?” You begin to message your temples, “Please I just got home, can’t we talk about this later?” Folding their hands over their chest “Fuck no we can’t talk about this later, small town fucks like you always movin’ to the cities to make it ‘big’, causin’ problems for the locals, cus’ all of a sudden you can’t pay rent, this ain’t in the middle of bum fuck, and rent ain’t two cents and bag of corn!”

Not being able to take it anymore, you slam the door in their face and scream. “Just leave me the fuck alone for the night, I’ll have your money soon, then my small town ass will be outta your hair!” You can hear them sputtering behind the door “Ya! you better have my fuckin’ money, don’t forget I know people!” You scoff, that’s what everyone here said, “I know people” ‘Who the fuck cares!’ You hoped more than anything that everything with Remmick worked out, you don’t think you can do this anymore.

As expected the movers had come in the middle of the night; you told them to move silently as not to wake the neighbors, but in truth you had your own selfish reasons for telling them to be quiet. What you hadn’t expected was for Remmick to show up in tow.

“Can I come in?” He looks almost giddy. “Yes, of course please come in, what made you stop by?” Smiling he steps past the entrance taking a look around, “It occurred to me that you might not have a way to get to me on your own, and having a driver pick you up for me felt too… formal, for our kinda relationship.” “Thank you, I had planned to hitch a ride with the movers, but now looking at the lack of room in their truck, I don’t think I would have fit.” Giving the apartment another once over you begin to grow anxious, Remmick notices and asks if anything is wrong. “Nothing” you give him a tight smile “It would just be best if we left soon.”

From the time that you met Remmick to the arrival of the moving trucks you had been silently packing everything you could, you really do plan to pay the property owner but with a lack of funds all you can do is leave quietly then pay latter, unfortunately nothing got past your property owner, not even in the middle of the night.

Dramatically entering your apartment without even asking, the property owner stomps their way over to where you and Remmick are talking. “Hmph, just like a field mouse, trying to scurry away. listen I don’t know who the fuck ya are, but she ain’t goin’ nowhere without paying whats already due!”

You want to sink into the floor, shame encasing you like amber. Without even looking your way or pausing Remmick smiles at the scowling asshole in front of you, that’s purposely trying to make you look bad. “Well, how much does my girl owe ya’?”

You wince at the amount. He just smiles looking over to one of the movers that had been waiting by the door. “Grab my checkbook” as he waits he looks over at the property owner “You do take checks right?” The owner folds their arms and give Remmick a sharp nod. “Remmick, you don’t have to-” He places a hand on your shoulder placing a finger in front of his lips “Shh, don’t worry about it Darlin’, this is nothing if it means I can get you home quicker.” He winks at you making your face heat up.

With a flick of his wrist he cuts the check, handing it over to the owner, not even blinking as he erases the debt that had consumed your life, and been the reason for all of your stress. “If this bounces…” They sneer at Remmick He rolls his eyes but tries to keep a smile on his face “It won’t” his irritation slowly growing as the property owner just stands there.

You look at the property owner with exhaustion “Can we get a little privacy?” “Don’t come back” they spit. “She won’t” “I won’t” You look at each other and he smiles at you but you lower your head in embarrassment. You hear the door slam, as the property owner makes one last grand exit in your life. “I’m sorry you had to see that.” “It’s fine.” “No it’s not but thank you for saying so.”

He looks around at your small barren apartment, a place that always brought you pain until you felt you were suffocating from its existence. “Are ya ready to go Baby girl?” you nod following him and silently prayed you’d never have be in a situation like this again, no matter what. You jump in the passenger side, you wait for Remmick to start driving but he just looks over at you. “Put on your seat belt sweetheart, safety first” “Of course” you fasten yourself in still in awe of what occurred.

When you finally arrive at his home you take a good look around; he lives in a gated community with cookie cutter homes planted in rows. Without being told to, the movers park and begin to move your things inside of the house. Remmick came to the passenger side of the car and lets you out, placing his hand on your lower back, he guides you into his home. He looks excited to show you around; from the kitchen and pantry, to the bed rooms and study, and finally the living room passing by the basement.

Your eyes only lingered for a second, but long enough for Remmick to notice, redirecting you to where you are now. “This is one of my favorite pieces in this house.” He says waving towards the coffee table beside your legs “It’s sturdy and reliable, had it for years; refused to get rid of it no matter how far I’ve come”

He seems nervous about something, and you soon find out what, as he gets on one knee in front of you your confused at first until he pulls out a ring box, “You’ll need this to make it, um… Official.” You slowly hold out your hand, he takes the ring and band out of its box placing both on your finger. If you’re shocked that they fit, you don’t show it. Instead you thank him and complement the style of the rings he beams at this. It all seems a little too sentimental to you but you allow it.

It doesn’t take long before your bedroom is ready; you hadn’t asked them to but the movers had to the best of their abilities put all of your things away. You didn’t have much but the things you did have were important enough to have brought them with you. You lay down for the night looking at the ceiling of your room. It’s always hard to fall asleep somewhere new for the first time. But as you let the day wash over you, you let yourself become comfortable, lulling yourself off into a dreamland; you don’t notice your door opening.

In the morning as you’re getting ready, you notice a few pairs of underwear missing, maybe they got lost in the move, but you doubt it. ‘Was this the kind of people Remmick employed?’ You make your way downstairs noticing all the blinds to the house are closed tightly. The only thing keeping the house lit were strategically placed floor lamps, and sconce lights on the walls. Giving off the feeling of it being daytime, but without the danger it could pose to Remmick. Speak of the devil you find Remmick sitting in the living room waiting for you, sitting opposite of him are a couple of people that seem to somehow be related, ‘Maybe cousins?’

They introduced themselves as your personnel seamstress and tailor; they quickly begin to take your measurements as Remmick looks on, amused at how green you are at everything happening. “You’re my wife and you’ll need to look the part” he lists your responsibilities, minding the garden and directing the gardener, talking with neighbors to keep up a friendly appearance, and showing up to meetings he can’t personally attend. This gig was starting to sound more like the job of a personal assistant. You ask him about that but he just laughs, “Aye, I could do that, but I like to think I’m cutting out the middle man this way. Too many people get involved with that kind of arrangement; this just feels more private.”

He looks at you “When you have to live like I do, privacy is something you begin to cherish.” You don’t ask any more questions, and when your new wardrobe arrives you fall into your new assigned role, tending to Remmick’s life during the day time, and in the afternoon relaxing around the house.

After a while he slowly begins to join you, at first he was too shy and assumed he was intruding on your private time. “How can you be intruding, we’re husband and wife.” you joke playfully but after that begins to play his role on his sleeve, giving you flowers out of the blue, and jewelry that he thinks might suit you. You think of stopping him, but decide to just go with it, it wasn’t hurting anyone and it seemed to make him happy.

He finds you in the kitchen one day, prepping a bouquet of flowers he had gifted you, you planned to put them in a vase and place them on the kitchen table. He stands at the entrance just watching you, he liked to do that. His habit of watching you probably stems from a lack of human interactions due to his sun allergy, at least that’s what you believe, but you never see him staring at clients when they stop by, like he stares at you.

Sometimes you feel like a rabbit caught in the jaws of a fox, and wonder if you should run away. But then you look back at him and see that he’s just a puppy, you shake away any feeling of uneasiness that tries to plant itself inside your heart, and instead try to convince yourself that everything is normal. He smiles at you as you wave him over. “Thank you again for the flowers they’re beautiful.” “Not as beautiful as you,” He’s obvious trying to be suave but he come off more like a boy with a crush, you chuckle at him thanking him for the complement.

“Darlin’ I came seeking you out to ask you to attend as my date for a party.” He looks nervous asking you, as if you’d say no. You don’t think you could even if you wanted to, it was in your agreed upon requirements; you noticed he needed your approval for things that had already been agreed upon. Maybe what he really needed was for someone to pretend for him, perform for him. “No where I’d rather be, Honey” You smile throwing his overt use of endearments back at him, you watch him vibrate with excitement. “Party’s just a short in and out, just business; just invite me in like the first time we met and smile, you can mingle but we won’t be there too long.” After he informs you of what his expectations are, he stands and watches you as you finish doing what you had been doing when he walked in.

Is it bad that you sometimes want to kiss him, feel his lips against yours, like a real couple? You wave the thought away, you’re forgetting why you’re here, ‘Don’t get attached, don’t get attached, don’t get attached.’ You try to snap out of your grand delusions, but it gets harder and harder when he’s like this. You sigh, trying to dig your heart deeper into your chest, you spend the rest of your day like this with him by your side, just taking up each others time, until nighttime falls and you bid each other goodnight.

That night, you can’t help as yourself as you move your fingertips down your body, pretending that they were his. At first you’d been too self-conscious to do this in his house, but it’s been a while, and any hangups you had quickly melted in your panties the longer you were around him. It’s been so long that it doesn’t take much to find your release, you choke out his name while playing with your body. Even though his room is down the hall you try to be quiet, you didn’t know how thick the walls were.

The walls are thick enough that you never hear the body on the other side of your door, desperately joining you in your release, begging to be let in. You slowly drift to sleep without a clue to the body you’ve wrecked, like soft tides on a sand castle unaware of their destruction, but no lest devastating. He cleans his mess up leaving you to sleep and keeping you unaware.

For the party he calls the seamstress and tailor duo for you again; he let them adorn you with soft silk fabrics until you stand there in all your beauty. Remmick’s eyes never leaving your body, you begin to feel light headed as your pulse quickens and you begin to feel hot all over just from his gaze. The seamstress looks at you then to Remmick with concern “Mr. O’Connell, are you doing alright you have something-” they both motion to the side of his face where you can see a wet shimmer dripping from his chin ‘Was he drooling?’

He touches the side of his chin looking away, “Forgive me y’all’, I have some business to attend to in the study.” He looks back at the seamstress and tailor “Make sure to give my Wife whatever she wants.” After he leaves it doesn’t take long to finish, but you still want his opinion on some of the styles you may want to wear in the future. He had said he’d be in his study; you can hear the muffled sound of his voice. You don’t think to knock, you just quietly enter, not wanting to interrupt him if he was on an important call.

That’s how you come into view of him leaning slightly back in his chair one hand gripping the chair’s arm rest and the other wrapped around his dick. You swear you meant to look away but noticed something in his hands; it was your panties that had gone missing your first night here. You watch as his eyes screw up moaning your name, and his pace picks up. You know it’s wrong, but you can’t look away, and when he finally does notice you standing there, he’s too far gone to stop himself from cumming into the underwear fisted around his cock. “Jesus, fuck” he cries out panting out your name he tries to cover himself.

You turn around a tad to late “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt your private time.” you listen as he makes himself decent but you choose not to turn back around.

“I-I” he tries to stammer out an excuse but there’s nothing that he could say that wouldn’t make this situation worse.

“Please don’t say anything, we don’t have to talk about it, it doesn’t have to mean anything” there is a heavy silence between you.

“Alright.” he sounds so defeated, you wait for him to say anything else but when he stays quiet you decide to leave, pausing you turn back towards him, doing your best not to make eye contact. “I’m not sure if I, uh need to say this but, you can keep them, the panties.” looking at your underwear in his hands, he quickly places them behind his back. You leave quickly just in case he tries to explain himself again.

You spend most of your time in your room after that, only going out to preform your agreed upon duties, and talking with the seamstress and tailor about the attire you’ll be wearing for the gathering. Ever so often you find yourself checking to see if any more panties come up missing; they don’t, and the day for the party slowly approaches. The day before, you take extra care with your hair regimen, so that you can focus on your body.

The night before, after you come out of your bathroom glowing, you find multiple bra and pantie sets laid on your bed; they were definitely more expensive than the cheap pairs that he had stolen, was this an apology? Should you apologize too? What he did was fucked up, but you didn’t need to continue watching, but you wanted to, you enjoyed watching him come undone with just a pair of cheap panties that you had gotten in a pack on sale.

You wonder if he still uses them; the thought begins to excite you but you can’t waste time fantasizing at the moment. You try not to waste anymore time; you pick out a set of undergarments and put on the final design of the dress, letting the Seamstress and Tailor in to make sure it’s laying right.

He smiles as you make your way towards him. ‘Fuck, he looks amazing’ maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to avoid him all this time, you had forgotten what he did to your body. He says nothing about the gifts he left on your bed, he doesn’t even ask if you were wearing them, you were but it’s nice that he’s gentleman enough not to ask about it. ‘Though not gentleman enough not to steal my panties.’ You wrap yourself around the arm he offers while he walks you to the car, he opens the door for you making sure your settled he places the seat belt on you, closing your door then jumping in the car and doing the same for himself, before hitting the highway.

Handing his keys over to a valet he smiles at you. “Before we go in I want to say something.” ‘Oh god, please don’t let him bring up what happened in the study, oh god please.’ “You look absolutely breathtaking.” You smile at him, giving your thanks; you let him lead you to the house where the social gathering was. Unlike when you first met you don’t wait for him to ask, immediately you invite him in.

Allowing him to place his hand on your lower back, you let him guide you over to a handsome older gentleman, with hair that was graying on his temples, who you can only assume is the Host for tonight. You had assumed that you wouldn’t know anyone here, and you wish that had been the case; but standing right behind him was the person that had got you into this whole mess. You didn’t know whether to punch them or thank them; instead you act like you don’t know them, letting introductions flow freely as if this was your first meeting.

“Where have you been hiding such a lovely wife?” the host remarks. Remmick caresses your cheek. “Well you know I can be a very jealous man, and shes truly the apple of my eye,” He says looking at you with so much unadulterated love, that you almost look behind yourself to see who he’s talking about. “It’s hard to not want to keep ‘er locked up.” He says with a little to much honesty, that it even makes the host uncomfortable.

They chuckle and start to talk about business, at that you tune them out, every so often glancing around the party. Remmick’s hand never leaves your lower back; as he talks, a possessiveness that you never knew he had shines through, and everyone around could see it.

Remmick leans down and whispers in your ear making you shiver you don’t know if he noticed, but a smirk forms on his lips. “Be right back, remember what I said just an in and out.” You nod, watching Remmick and the host entering doors to the back rooms. You had hopped your ex roommate would do the honorable thing and just ignore you like you had planned to ignore them, but you weren’t so lucky. They walked straight to you as the two men walked away. “Funny bumping into you here.” You continue to ignore them giving them the barest of acknowledgments.

“It’s good to see you again, looks like you finally followed my lead, and let go of your foolish dreams. Better to give up sooner than to die broke later, am I right?” That was your limit; why couldn’t they just leave you alone? “I never gave up on my dreams, and that is not why I’m here right now, it was you that couldn't cut it, not me.” You try to keep your voice down but they’re making it hard, before they can needle you again, someone that you assumed works for them tries to whisper in their ear, but you catch parts of the conversion. Band arrived but singer left separately, never showed. They look over at you, watching as you try to pretend like you’re not eavesdropping, smirking they point at you.

“We have a replacement right here. Tell the band to get ready, she’ll be on in a few.” The color leaves your face. “What are you doing” You hiss at them. “What, you said you never gave up on your dreams, or was that just a bunch of hypocritical bullshit you were spouting to make yourself feel better about snagging a sugar daddy like me, while still looking down at me from your high chair?” Brushing past them you make sure to bump into their shoulder. “Witness me Bitch” It comes out as playful, you would gladly raise to their challenge. “Give me something worth witnessing” They smile knowing just what to say to rile you up, and for a second it’s as if you both were back in that apartment, two broke kids trying to make it big.

As you’re handed a mic you don’t have time to think if what your about to sing is business friendly, or if it will embarrass Remmick, you just feel the words flow out of you like a firework busting from its casing.

“Glory, glory, glory to the night That shows me what I am..”

You don’t know when Remmick comes back but he’s watching you intently, as you pour your soul out into a party full of strangers, and you hope this doesn’t break your agreement.

“As I go to the party on my knees Saying "Take it all, please"

You lock eyes with him as you sing, and just like that night in the dinner you see that hunger in his eyes, and it was meant for you.

“Glory, glory, glory to the night It shows me what I am”

He smiles as if he had finally found what he was looking for in life, and you realize right at that moment the hunger in his eyes were always meant for you, and that thought scares you, It could mean only one thing.

“I'm not happy or sad, just up or down And always bad”

Remmick had fallen in love with you.

As you finish the song you watch as your old friend walk away probably on their way to find their husband. Remmick walks towards you looking like he wants to kiss you, and you think would have let him if everyone including you weren’t suddenly shocked by a shrill scream that comes from the backrooms. The person that you used to know comes stumbling out of the doors. “He’s dead, please someone help, my husband he’s been murdered, get help!” You watch as people around you slowly begin to try and get help, but stop in their tracks as the host and supposedly dead husband, makes an appearance behind them with an oddly familiar smile.

“Sweetheart, I’m old not dead.” He places a hand on their lower back. “I can’t party like I used to, I need to re-energize somehow, and I’d like to do it without putting stuff in my nose.” He stage whispers making everyone breakout in a nervous laugh. “I apologize everyone, my young spouse here has mistaken my light nap for a visit from the grim reaper.”

Instead of nervously laughing along with everyone else they push their husband, the host away; you hear audible gasps all around as they make their way over to you grabbing you by your arms. Their eyes full of the kind of panicking desperation you only see in horror movies, they try to get you to listen to them “I know what I saw, please, pleas-”

Not sure what to believe you let their husband usher them away, not noticing the light stain on his collar as their screams become more panicked. Remmick quickly guides you out of the party without saying goodbye to anyone. No matter what they did in the past you hoped they would be okay, but you had a feeling in your guts that you just witnessed the death of a memory.

Getting you in the car he hits the highway towards home. “I didn’t know you could sing.” It was something you wanted to keep to yourself, didn’t want it to be a part of you that you sold, but you couldn’t say that. Instead you say “Didn’t want to bother you with my silly little hobbies.” “It didn’t sound like just a hobby to me, sounded like something special, beautiful, real goddamn beautiful.” You thank him but don’t say anything else on the matter, and for a second it’s quiet as he drives. “Will you do it again, just for me?” “Is that a request or a demand?” ‘Did that sound bitter?’

He takes a quick glance over at you, making sure to keep his eyes on the road for the most part. He drives in silence for the rest of the trip. Parking the car in the driveway, he softly grabs your hand while looking you in the eyes. “I’m not requesting or demanding but beggin’ ya please sing for me.”

You were only teasing him, you hadn’t planned to sing for him, but his pleading made you smile. He brings is lips to the back of your hand kissing it softly, glancing over at you he must know by now what he did to you, he begins to lean towards you and you know what he wants.

You unbuckle your seat belt not waiting for him you get out of the car, you practically sprinting to the house, you had to get away from him before you did something stupid. He sprints after you calling your name.

Closing the door behind himself he finds you in the living room, walking towards the stairs to the upstairs bedrooms, but he stops you turning your body towards him, till you’re facing his chest.

“We shouldn’t.” You place your hands on his chest, it felt like a sin to want him so badly. “Why not?” He says eyelashes almost touching you as he goes in to kiss you again. “I think I'll regret this.” You start off with slow kisses, but soon you both get desperate, trying to get a taste of each other with every touch of your lips.

He runs down your body with his lips leaving kisses in his wake, as he rips open the front of your dress. The sound of shock leaves your lips, but he covers them with his own moaning into your mouth, as you paw at his belt working it loose with your fingers. He runs his fingers over your exposed bra looking for your nipple, he rips the fabric of the bra kissing and sucking on your breast then to your nipple, when he finally gets your titty free.

You unbutton his slacks, pulling them down far enough to release his dick from his underwear, before you can wrap your hand around him he pulls back from you. You watch as his chest lifts up and down, slowly descending in front of you he looks almost animalistic as he gets on his knees, he lifts your dress up, pulling your panties down. You don’t expect it, so when he pulls you down, pushing your back flush against the coffee table, and dives between your thighs with his tongue, you make a choked noise.

You try to close your legs from the over stimulation but he keeps you open, your legs firmly placed on his shoulders; he wasn’t going to let you go until you gave him what he wanted. Your hips lifting off the coffee table your hand goes to his hair pulling him deeper into your snatch. As you moan his name, you cum on his tongue and feel as he laps the juices off your cunt.

“Oh Fuck sweetheart you taste like heaven.” As you run your hands through his hair you notice that he has natural waves, “Beautiful.” The word leaves your lips as he grabs your hand, kissing the palm of your hands as he pulls you on top of him. You sink slowly on his length, already weeping with pre-cum. You begin to ride him like you were starved for just the taste of him. “Fuck love, please slow down it’s been a while, I’m not gon’ta last!” You look down at him with a smirk on your lips, he gave you no mercy, so why should you give him any? You kick it into over drive, rolling your hips with purpose.

Remmick tries to grab your hips to slow you down, but you grab his hands placing one on the titty he had ripped your bra just to get a taste of and the other on your lips kissing his fingertips. “Fuck so good, I can’t!” He’s practically weeping under you, as you keep rolling your hips in a smooth but relentless motion. You’re closer to the edge than you thought, you cum all over his dick, as he finds release in you. Panting each others names, delirious with euphoria he holds you close as you feel drops of him start to drip out of you.

After that day it feels like you are closer then ever, he lets his natural waves lay on his head, cause he knows you like to play with them and you sing to him in the after noon letting him lay his head on your lap. Everything feels like paradise, that is until you’re doing a little morning gardening and one of your neighbor sees you.

Waving you over they seem nervous at first, saying they weren’t going to bring it up, but you seemed like such a nice and normal couple. “Do you know about the people that your Husband brings home at night?” Blinking, that wasn’t what you had expected them to say. “What-, Mr. O’Connell… My Husband is in the business of restoration and with his sun allergy-” They don’t look convinced just like you don’t feel it. “It’s just that when they leave they look so disheveled, as if they had removed their clothing.” Your fists clench, you didn’t want to hear this. “What are you trying to imply?” “I didn’t mean to offend” “I don’t know what is going on in that mind of yours but I suggest you just forget what you saw.”

You try to breathe but it’s become harder. “Now I have roses to take care of, good day.” You hadn’t meant to sound so angry, but you hadn’t known of any people of the night visiting Remmick. Of course it would have been while you were asleep, and yes there had been times when you woke up to find his side of the bed empty, but he was probably in the basement working on restorations.

Beside it wasn’t your place to question what he did with his time; that’s right, you were just his fake wife, but you were his real lover and the thought of him in the arms of someone else made you so sick. You could barely breathe; you’re quiet for the rest of the week, and if Remmick noticed anything he doesn’t say a word. You can barely look at him without envisioning him making love to some random faceless person, to the point you begin to have nightmares about it.

It’s due to one of those nightmares that you awaken in the middle of the night; your neighbors words getting to you as you reach out for a body that you knew wasn’t there. You glance to the windows getting up when you hear the sound of his car driving into the driveway, you slowly pull back the curtains just enough to stay hidden, but also enough to peek outside.

You watch as he pops out of his car with someone that you’ve never seen before, at least you don’t remember seeing them; could they be someone from the parties he took you to? Your hand covers your mouth as he wraps his arm around their waist, and your heart drops into your stomach; your neighbor had been right, he was bring people home.

You don’t know why but you can’t help yourself as you creep downstairs; you see the basement door ajar and you don’t know what compels you to, but you steadily make your way down the stairs. Every part of your mind is telling you to go back upstairs, ‘what will you even do when you catch him in the act with someone else?’ ‘Are you really willing to ruin everything just to, what, sate your curiosity?’ ‘Please, please, please, turn around!’ Your heart screams at you to stop.

When you make it to the base of the stairs what you expected to see wasn’t there, not completely. They were naked but instead of seeing two people fucking like their lives depended on it, you find Remmick moments away from biting some poor persons throat out, with a Tarp laid neatly on the concrete floor so as not to leave any stains. You try to go back upstairs but a shovel leaning against the wall falls as you bump into it, alerting them both that you saw what was happening. Shocked by your presence Remmick stops dead in his tracks; had his eyes always been that color that was so deeply red, so inhuman? He loosens his grip on his victims body. “Sweetheart I can explain.” As he scrambles to glue together some kind of half lie his victim gets away before Remmick can catch them, running towards the stairs their salvation just feet away.

You grab the shovel off the floor that had been leaning against the wall and in one swift motion you wack the victim across their face; as they fall back you watch as Remmick grabs them by their hair, pulling them back over to the tarp. Both of their eyes never leaving you, one filled with betrayal the other filled with curiosity, you watch as Remmick gets down on his knees, forcing the victim’s head to the side as he bites down on their neck.

His eyes stay locked on you as takes all he can from them. As their eyes roll back losing consciousness and body becomes limp, what you’ve done catches up to your brain. You slowly turn away from him, making your way back up stairs, sitting in the living room. You don’t know how long you wait, but it was long enough that Remmick is walking towards you.

With his Victim a few steps behind him, now fully dressed, they smile at you. They give you a wave as if to say no hard feelings on helping them get murdered; you look at Remmick’s face still covered in blood as he lays a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry baby, you weren’t meant to see that.” You notice that his fingers are still elongated; your eyes snap forward focusing to the object in front of you, it really is a nice coffee table.

If you like what you read check out my other stories from my 'Corner Store' Series where you the readers get to pick the prompt.

Unplanned pregnancy - dhampir

Car broke down in the middle of nowhere

#remmick #remmick sinners #remmick x black!reader #fanfiction #fic series #remmick x reader #corner store series #corner store #smut #vampires

81 notes · View notes

hxiiraeth · 1 day ago

Text

The Gentle Sweetness to His World | Mafioso x Reader

(I love Mafioso sm. Not proofread, raw writing. Soz if it doesn't make sense, this is mostly going with the flow of the writing and feelings.)

Part 1?

Living in the world of his isn't easy, having plenty of enemies, getting their hands dirty, using any means necessary for those who owe him to repay their debt; sometimes requiring blood to spill. It wasn't pretty, never was. He's realized that a long time ago, moments when he had to fight to survive in the cruel place he was born in. While he lives a lavish life as a mafioso, easily having access to everything and having people at his beck and call, he still feels empty. As if something was missing.

Until he met you. You were just tending to your family's garden when you'd spotted him by the gate, assuming that he's the one your father was going to be speaking with. Most wouldn't even spare him a glance, let alone speak to them, given his circumstances and his position. He understands that. Why would anyone try to get close to him, a mob leader who's involved with all sorts of things, knowing fully well what he's delving into since he was young as a means to survive.

Either you were blissfully unaware of his stature or you were just trying to be nice, he couldn't tell when you gave him a smile before you continued with your daily life. He was lost, yet seemingly.. enthralled by you, somehow. It was stupid, really, to be reeled in by just a smile from a random stranger. For all he knows, you were probably trying to pull on the strings, to get on his favour, but that never was the case for you.

You were naïve in your way of thinking, looking through certain things in a rose-tinted glasses as you talk about how you wished the world never had to spill any blood, to live in harmony with one another. Yet you knew it'll only be too good to be true, the world being far too complex and dark for one to want such a change. Your father was an example of that — the leader of a mob group. He'd gotten his hands dirty to get to where you are now, to keep you alive, happy and well fed, spoiled even. You never liked it, hated it when it involves arguments, threats, deaths. But you relented, knowing that you wouldn't be able to experience the normal lives like everyone else does. The least you could do was to keep yourself occupied with the things you enjoy, ones that makes you happy despite your life being different than the rest.

You didn't know what you were getting into when you met him, enamored by his presence. He looked scary, yet somehow also, gentle? It was a surprising sight as well to see him keeping a white bunny by his side when you first saw him. Perhaps there's another side to him that he never lets anyone in the outside world knows. Either that, or you were only trying to see the good things in him just like you do so with everyone else.

You wonder, what sort of story would you hear from him, if you're able to have a conversation with him. What sort of person he truly is, what burden does he carry on his shoulders?; assuming he has a lot of responsibilities he shoulders on his own that no other knows of.

To him, you were a breath of fresh air; someone who’s able to live their life with innocence, purity, as if the darkest parts of the world never bothered you, as if the work your family is involved in never disturbed your peace. He’s seen you treat your attendant with genuine respect and gentleness as if they are one of your own. You live your life with all your heart, taking care of your environment and people around you with such care and love like it was something so easily given, as if it was all that you knew. Whilst it is admirable, it too, is a dangerous thing to do, given your family’s position. Seeing someone being so open about it has him drawn towards you unknowingly, evoking something deep within him he’s uncertain of.

One evening, you caught him by the garden, taking a rest on a bench as he took a smoke of his cigarette. You noticed the tense look on his face, his lips pressed into a thin, unyielding line, seeming as if something is bothering him. He heard the sound of her footsteps against the stone path, weaving through the garden with each light step, a gentle presence that belonged to her alone. He turned his head instinctively at the slightest of sound, a flicker of surprise in his eyes to see you moving towards him. You’d never sought him out, your only interactions being the brief acknowledgement of one another by the front door or the garden before he disappears to meet your father.

“Hi,” your greeting was soft, carrying a kind of warmth his world rarely knew. “You seem.. tense. Are you okay?” You asked, stopping in your tracks as you stood by the bench, keeping a little distance from him in case it causes him discomfort.

Perceptive as ever, you were. Nothing escapes those eyes of yours, and it caught him off guard as you asked a question he never thought anyone would. His gaze lingered on you, a long, heavy silence settling between you both as the gentle breeze of the wind swept through the garden, carrying with it the faint scent of blooming flowers and the distant rustle of leaves.

He didn't speak at first. Just watched you, as though he’s weighing whether your concern was genuine or if it’s just another game he hasn’t learned how to play. “You shouldn’t be out here,” he spoke at last, his voice low, roughened not with threat but with something more uncertain, unfamiliar. You offered a small, tentative smile as you glanced at the blooming flowers in the distance.

“I just.. Saw you out here.” You muttered softly with a shrug of your shoulders. “Thought you could use a little company.” Your words caused a flicker of something passing through his expression — surprise, perhaps, or something dangerously close to curiosity. He didn’t know you that well. Not yet, but it was enough to stir something unfamiliar within him.

His lips quirked into a half-smirk, his gaze didn’t leave her face as he uttered, “Not many would. It’s not a good habit to make, sweetheart.” There was no venom in his words, just a warning dressed in reluctant fondness. You quirked an eyebrow at him, giving a soft huff of laughter. You shifted your gaze towards him as you prompted a question.

“Why not, though?” Your question was soft but steady, like your curiosity to know the reasoning behind it was genuine. There was no challenge in your voice, no sharpness — just a quiet kind of curiosity he’s unfamiliar with, unsettling him more than it should have. He lets out a huff, the corner of his mouth twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

“Because people like me…” He trailed off, his eyes flickering to the ground for the briefest moment before finding yours again. “We don’t do well with softness. And the ones who offer it either get burned, or learn to bite first.” It wasn’t a warning meant to push you away or scare you off, no. If anything, it sounded more like a reluctant confession — as if he’s telling you something that no one else has ever bothered to ask. Or, he’s only trying to convince himself that anyone involved in the line of work similar to his could never experience softness like any other normal individuals would.

You held his gaze, fingers brushing against your palm, muttering, “Maybe I’m not afraid of a little fire.” Your words hold a subtle challenge to it, wanting to test the waters and see how he’d react to it. For the first time, genuine surprise flickered in his expression, his gaze lingering a second too long, like he didn’t expect to get that kind of answer from you and he wasn’t sure on what to do with it.

You didn’t give him a chance to retort back, your next words earning a pause. “Besides.. I don’t think you’re as bad as you want people to believe.” His expression faltered, not obvious enough for anyone else to notice, but you did. You caught it — the faintest hitch in his breath, the slight narrowing of his eyes like you’d struck a chord neither of you expected.

“You don’t know me.” He scoffed, voice quieter, words thick with something unspoken. “I don’t.” You admitted, another shrug of your shoulders, hands absently toying with the ends of your sleeves. “But I can tell when someone carries too much weight on their own.”

Another silence stretched between you, filled only by the sigh of the wind and the distant hum of the city beyond the garden walls. For a moment, he looked like he might speak, might let something slip by — but he broke away his gaze, glancing towards the dark horizon.

“Careful,” he murmured, almost to himself. “You keep seeing things like that in people, this place might eat you alive.” It sounded like a threat, yet there was no bite to it. As if he’s telling you to keep you safe, away from what the world, his world, specifically, and your father’s, could do to someone like you. As if, despite himself, some stubborn, unwilling part of him cared enough to warn you, even knowing that it wouldn’t be enough.

“Maybe.” You said softly, a faint smile appearing on your lips, the kind that didn’t quite reach your eyes but carried a quiet stubbornness all the same. “But someone’s gotta try, don’t they?”

He huffed out a breath, something between a scoff and a laugh, shaking his head as if you were foolish, like you didn’t know what you were asking for — and maybe you didn’t. There was a flicker of reluctance and wary drawn all at once. It wasn’t pity nor was it amusement. It was the look of a man who hadn’t expected anyone to still believe people like him could be anything but what they were. People like him didn’t deserve softness, never get to have them, because people like you couldn’t survive long around men like him.

“You’re going to regret that one day,” he muttered, though the warning felt thin, lacking the edge it should’ve had. Perhaps even sounding like a confession.

“Maybe.” You said, your voice gentle but sure as you looked at him with a gaze that’s steadier than he expected. Not naive, not reckless. Just quietly certain. “But if I do, it won’t be because of you.”

And that struck something in him. You saw it — the way his expression stilled for a heartbeat, like the words had cut too close, like you’ve reached somewhere deep within the place he hadn’t meant to let you near. He didn’t answer you right away, just watched you in the thick, breathless silence. Then, he gave a low, almost humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re trouble.”

But there was no heat in it, no longer a warning. He sounded almost resigned after hearing your words. You truly were trouble to him, cutting it too close to reaching deep within the depths of his heart, uncovering what lies beneath it. It’s as if you were starting to see past the blood on his hands, and he was starting to let you — and that might be the real danger of it all.

And then, because neither of you could trust what might come next, he stood up from where he was sitting, turning towards the garden path.

“Get some rest, sweetheart,” he murmured without looking back. “It’s getting late.”

And this time, he left — but not without glancing over his shoulder once, like he wasn’t sure if he’s hoping you’d already gone inside or stayed to watch him leave. Of course, you stayed, watching his figure gradually retreat into the distance, leaving your family’s estate. You clutch the front of your shirt as you stood there long after he left, the quiet of the night settling around you like a heavy blanket. The faint echo of his voice threading through your head.

“You’re going to regret that one day.”

Maybe. But something in you knew you wouldn’t. At least not for this.

…

He walked the path back towards his car, the glow of the lanterns scattered by painting the stone path in uneven light. The cigarette in his hand had burned down to nothing, and he dropped it with a flick of his fingers, grinding the ember out beneath his heels as he walked.

It was stupid, reckless even, he told himself. It was a huge mistake to let the conversation go as far as it had. He wasn’t supposed to get attached, to not linger in the softness you offer — he shouldn’t. It’d only risk you even further, bringing you into the dangerous world he has lived in for years. And yet, your voice lingered.

“Maybe. But if I do, it won’t be because of you.”

Trouble. That’s what you are — trouble in soft skin and bright eyes, in careful words that landed harder than any bullet. And yet, as he reached the gates of the estate, Mafioso hesitated. Just a second, one glance over his shoulder, and the empty stretch of the garden felt heavier than it should have.

Part 2 (soon)

#mafioso x reader #forsaken x reader #mafioso forsaken x reader #mafioso forsaken #roblox forsaken x reader

126 notes · View notes

olderthannetfic · 14 hours ago

Note

so when someone block you, it looks like their blog doesn’t exist? and you can’t like/reblog their posts? I just stumbled on that for the first time in the almost ten years I’ve been on tumblr… I assume people have blocked me before but I’ve never noticed until now. I definitely understand now why people obsess over this sort of thing! I really want to know why, even though I block people for all sorts of stupid reasons, and chances are they weren’t even thinking about it that much

Yes, that's what it looks like. Of course, tumblr being tumblr, I'm not always 100% sure that's what's going on. I do generally block people back if I see that they've blocked me, but I always wonder if I've had some false positives.

There's no point in worrying about it. It's as likely they misclicked or mistook you for someone else or found your 10-year-old comment on some endlessly recirculating post annoying as that they had a substantive reason.

44 notes · View notes

my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 2 days ago

Text

As Much As You Want

Poe Dameron x RIchard Muñoz x gn!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals • Masterlist • ao3 • want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? •

Summary: You and Poe have your eyes on Richard.

A/N: I've named Richard's dog Felicity in this for reasons I do not understand. Reader and Poe are in an established relationship, this is giving 'we saw you across the park and really dig your vibe.' vibes. Also, I'm just not so happy with this one, I don't know.

Warnings: Kissing, pet names, swearing, Richard feeling self-conscious, oral (Richard receiving), not beta read, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 2312

Richard had first met you at the park.

He’d been playing catch with Felicity when she’d decided not to return her bright red ball to him, turning ninety degrees and marching smartly over to you before dropping the aforementioned toy at your feet.

“Hello,” you grinned as Felicity sat and stared up at you with impossibly large eyes. “Do you want me to throw your ball?”

Beebee, who mostly looked like a cocker spaniel, though you were sure there were other breeds in his ancestry, pulled a little on his lead. He excitedly sniffed at the ball before trying to get all up in Felicity’s face, she didn’t seem to mind though.

“Beebee,” you tutted. He gave you a seemingly sheepish glance before going back to investigating his new friend, a little calmer this time.

“I’m so sorry.” Richard rushed up to you, “Felicity, what are you doing?”

“It’s fine.” You’d smiled warmly at him. “Your dog’s lovely, is it okay to pet them?”

Richard returned your expression, visibly relaxing. “Yes, a-of course, please, she’s very friendly.”

You’d knelt down to stroke her, muttering positive affirmations that had her tail wagging excitedly while she stayed sitting perfectly.

Beebee had wandered over to Richard and nearly jumped up.

“Bee.” You said firmly as you gently corrected his behaviour. He stayed on all four legs. “Sorry,” you glance up at Richard, “he loves jumping, we’re trying to nip that in the bud.”

“It’s no problem.” He bent down to stroke Beebee, who preened a little, wiggling excitedly now that he was getting someone’s full attention. “Felicity used to jump up at everyone all the time.”

You stood as you nodded. “Well, you’ve done an amazing job training her, she’s so well behaved.”

“Ah,” he waved his hand dismissively. “I’m sure… Bee?” He brushed his hand through his curls a little nervously.

“Beebee.” You smiled.

“Beebee,” he repeated, “I’m sure Beebee will get the hang of it soon.”

You’d seen him three times in the park after that. Each time you’d talked a little longer, learnt a little more about each other.

On the fifth, you had exchanged numbers.

It was just friendly, of course. But his spirits had fallen a fraction when you’d mentioned your long term partner, Poe. Which was silly, of course, and inappropriate, he barely knew you. And you were far too lovely to not be in a relationship. And even if you hadn’t been, Richard was sure there was no way you’d be interested in someone like him.

Richard had first met Poe when you’d invited him and Felicity around for dinner. He’d almost turned right back around instead of pressing the bell, his nerves swimming around in his stomach and making him sick. Was he over dressed? Under dressed? Did you even want him here? Or was this just some ‘show your partner how pathetic he was so he wouldn’t get jealous that you had a new friend’.

Felicity’s had looked up at him comfortingly and, somehow, he’d managed to find the strength to knock. Poe had answered the door, fawning over Felicity and the beautiful Swiss Cheese Plant Richard had brought with him as a gift for you both. He’d hugged Richard a fraction of a second too long, the warmth of his body encapsulating him in safety.

“Come in, come in,” Poe grinned, keeping his hand on Richard's shoulder. “It’s so good to finally meet you.”

The dinner had gone more than well, and Felicity and Beebee were seemingly completely besotted with each other's company. Ending up curled up in Beebee’s dog basket, snuggled together and asleep.

This led to another dinner, and then another and another until it was practically a weekly event. Richard still got butterflies before every single one.

“We should watch it now.” Poe grins, excitedly getting up from the table.

“Oh, no, no,” you laugh, “we are not putting Richard through that.”

“He will love it,” Poe gives you a cheeky look and then turns to Richard, giving him the puppy dog eyes. “You want to watch it, don’t you?”

Richard opens his mouth, his stomach flipping over itself. Being on the receiving end of one of Poe’s endearing (manipulative) looks was always psychological torture of the sweetest degree.

“Don’t bully him into watching it.” You put your hand on Richard’s, and he audibly gulps. “It’s awful.”

“It’s not!” Poe laughs. “It’s a classic. Best film ever.” He leans a little against Richard’s seat, pressing his hip to Richard’s arm.

You laugh.

“Come on, it’ll be fun.”

You sigh, but it’s good natured. You don’t know why you were trying to fight it really, you could never say no to Poe. “Fine.”

Poe fist bumps the air.

“Only if Richard wants to, though.” You look at him and smile.

He smiles back a little shyly, pulling back in on himself. It was always too much being under your direct attention, blinding and warm like sunshine.

“Of course he does.” Poe rests his hands on Richard’s shoulders, and after a beat, Richard nods.

You’re both sitting too close to him to be polite. Poe’s on his right, his legs crossed, his knee practically in Richard’s lap. You’re on his left, turned a little on your side, your elbow resting on the back on the sofa, your chest pressing up against his arm.

Richard swallows, staring intently at the television and seeing absolutely nothing. He couldn’t tell you one thing about the film that was playing, even if he was held at gunpoint. All his brain could register is the feel of you both pressing against him over his clothed skin.

He shivers a little and fidgets in his seat, his leg bouncing ever so slightly.

“You okay?” You ask, you voice low and sultry.

Richard’s head snaps to your direction, nodding before he even has his first words out. “Yes, yes, good fine.”

“You sure?” Poe leans closer, his warm breath caressing the shell of Richard’s ear.

Richard visibly jumps and you bite back a smile.

“Yes, fine, really.” He lies.

“Do you have enough space?” You ask, knowing that you and Poe are a centimetre away from laying all over him.

“Yes, plenty, all good, perfect, I… um… do you both have enough room?”

Poe rolls his neck, “You know I could be a little more comfortable.” He rests his head on Richard’s shoulder. And he freezes.

He holds his breath, blinking hard. You were both so close, he had to be otherthinking, making mountains out of molehills. You were just a nice couple being friendly and here he was with his thoughts racing to all manner of inappropriate things. If either of you ever found out, you’d never want to see him again, never talk to him again. You could never know how much he looked forward to seeing you both, despite how anxious he got. How much it pained him to leave when the evening was done.

How he’d press his clothes to his face afterwards, inhaling the lingering scent of your home. How he cherished every little look and touch. How he’d thought of both of you the last time he’d come.

“Richard?” You say softly, lightly touching his chin and just tilting his face towards you.

His eyes widen at the caress, but he moves with you, not drawing back. He darts out his tongue, licking his bottom lip nervously, the very tip only visible underneath his moustache.

“Yes?” He asks oh so innocently. His voice as sweet and soft as always.

You tilt your head to the side, lean in closer.

His breathing hitches, his eyes fluttering as his long eyelashes kiss his cheeks. He had to be misunderstanding. Had to be making some error, some huge fuck up that would-

Poe’s lips on his neck, just above his jugular, makes him gasp. They’re firm and tender and as his own mouth opens you bridge the gap between you and lick into his mouth greedily.

Richard’s brain short circuits momentarily. Had he fallen? Hit his head? Was he bleeding out and hallucinating on your floor right now while you panically called an ambulance? That was the only thing that made sense; that was surely the only logical path.

You press closer, stroking his left cheek with your hand as you deepen the kiss.

Poe moans softly, lightly running the edge of his teeth over Richard’s skin before darting out his tongue. He slid his hand across Richard’s soft stomach and down to his thigh. He squeezes firmly and Richard’s legs open instinctively.

He gasps against your lips, a jolt of pleasure running along his spine.

You pull back an inch, just enough for him to breathe and centre himself. “You okay?”

He nods, biting his lip. “I…”

You sink your fingers into his hair at the nape of his neck, lightly scraping your nails over his skin and he shivers.

“You okay with this?” You ask, just as softly as before, punctuating the sentence with a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He immediately nods, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “I…” It’s a dream. It has to be a dream.

Poe sucks harder on his neck and he groans.

You chuckle lightly as you nip at his jaw, soothing the sink quickly with your tongue.

Richard moans louder. His heart is beating so fast and so hard, he’s sure you both must be able to hear it.

Poe moves his hand up, cupping Richard’s quickly growing erection.

“Fuck…” The word escapes Richard’s lips in a whisper.

Poe practically growls, lightly biting at the soft lobe of Richard’s ear before muttering. “Say that again.”

Richard lets out the sweetest sound, so wonderfully overwhelmed with the feeling of both of you. You slide your hand along the inside of his leg, joining Poe’s at his crotch.

He breathes out both of your names in a weak sigh, his legs shaking, cock twitching. He was growing harder, dizzily quickly, pleasure beating violent and fast at the base of his stomach.

Poe kisses him messily, his tongue hot and wet and stealing his breath before he pulls back and slides off of the sofa.

“Let us take care of you.” You mutter against Richard’s lips before you kiss him again, just as desperate as Poe. Your tongue sinks deep, claiming your mouth as your own as Poe kneels between his legs.

Poe unbuckles Richard’s belt while you undo his fly, both of you working in an almost hive mind tandem as you pull his throbbing cock free.

Richard gasps, opening his mouth to speak and then moaning loudly as Poe licks along his slit, tasting his salty precome.

“How long has it been?” You ask softly.

Richard swallows, shaking his head, his mind taking a while to catch up. His hands squeeze you tightly, pulling you so close you’re nearly in his lap.

“How long since someone’s touched you?” You repeat.

Poe looks up at you both with dark eyes.

“It’s…” He pants. “It’s been a while…”

“We’ll go slow.” Poe rubs his inner thighs as he talks but Richard shakes his head quickly.

“No, please, I…” He swallows again, “I need…”

Poe grins and you smile as you kiss his cheek.

“We’ll go fast then.” You whisper and Richard gifts you with a low groan.

Poe quickly takes him in hand before slipping his head passed his lips and Richard cries out, fighting the urge to buck his hips and failing.

“He’s really good at sucking cock.” You whisper, revelling in how loudly Richard groans, how hard he clings to you as your words filter into his ears. “Practically no gag reflex.” You continue, grinning when RIchard’s eyes roll back.

Poe takes him deeper, deeper, sucking hard and bobbing his head up and down. It’s messy and sloppy, salvia dripping past his lips and coating his shaft as he works him.

You place your free hand on the back of Poe’s head, sink your fingers into his hair and encourage him to take him further, faster.

“Shit,” Richard moans, gasping for hair. His hips buck weakly, his muscles tensing.

“Never heard you swear before.” You tease. “Is it that good?”

“So fucking good.” He moans, tears in his eyes. “I…”

“You can fuck his throat.” You whisper.

Poe groan in agreement.

“He can take it.” You add.

“Please?” Richard begs.

You can’t help but tease him. “Please, what?”

“Please,” he gasps, so drunk on pleasure. It had been so long, too long and now he was getting too excited like some anxious teenager. “I’m, you’re going to make me…”

“You gonna come?”

He whines and nods.

“Please do it.” You keep your voice low and soft and right by his ear. “Poe wants it so badly, I want it, want you to come down his throat and make him swallow and-”

Richard cries out at his orgasm crests, whitting out his vision and overtaking his body. He squeezes you close, sobbing in bliss. You cradle him back, kissing his cheek and temple and pressing Poe right up against him so that he doesn’t waste a single drop.

Poe whines happily as Richard’s cum hits his tongue and flows down his throat. He swallows eagerly until Richard starts to relax and breathe deeply as he recovers.

Richard blinks hard, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead. This had to be a dream.

You smile at him as he opens his eyes, Poe slowly gets back on the sofa next to him. Richard reaches out to your both, stroking each of your cheeks and then sliding his fingers to the back of your necks so he can pull you both closer.

“Can I… can we… Can I touch you? Both of you?” He asks hesitantly.

Poe chuckles and you nod.

“As much as you want, Richard.”

Thank you for reading!

Taglist:

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @lonelyisamyw-0love @romanarose

@steven-grants-world @blushingrn @to-be-a-sunshine @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87

@lunar-ghoulie @silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin @reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom

@alwaysmicado @spxctorsslxt @novarosewood @hammerhead96 @mylittledelulucorner

@queerly-anxious @swiftiegirliepop @oscarssimp @eternallyvenus @lounilu

@pigeonmama @iolaussharpe-24 @chaithetics @sub-aro @faretheeoscar

@queerponcho @twwcs @ingoldthewizard @ominoose @ierofrnkk

@have-you-seen-my-sanity @missdictatorme @musicalnacho @buckyssugarchick @lemonzestinmydrink

@sonotpractical @junggoku @julesonrecord @heavydirtysoulsblog @kristinaluvsherr

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

#poe dameron #star wars sequels #poe dameron x reader #x reader #poe dameron x you #x you #poe dameron x gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #poe dameron x gn!reader #x gn!reader #my writing #fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters #richard muñoz #richard muñoz x reader #richard muñoz x you #richard muñoz x gender neutral reader #richard muñoz x gn!reader

48 notes · View notes

gemmafuckingscout · 22 hours ago

Note

I’m nosy, could I hear more of your thoughts about Gemma? cause I love her too 👁️👁️ Headcanons, where you want her story to go in S3, etc.

[cracks my knuckles]

i know a lot of people talk about mark's avoidant tendencies but i don't see a whole lot of people talking about gemma's avoidant tendencies. in 2x07 we have the scene where gemma gets the results for a pregnancy test while mark calls out that coffee is ready, and gemma quietly closes the door to the bathroom in response. now, we don't know if this is an inherent trait of gemma's or if it's in response to mark's avoidant tendencies (i.e. mirroring mark's flavor of emotional repression).

but it does make me think a lot about the interview where dichen mentions that mark (and gemma's relationship with him) would've been okay if, earlier in their journey, gemma would have accepted a life without a (biological) child, but she was battling internally with the thoughts that she's broken but that she still really wants a baby. and how when you're unhappy with yourself, it can poison the water in your relationship, which i think is interesting. it does make me wonder if we'll see that in reverse in S3 if/when omark makes it outside and they have to figure out who they are in relation to each other, considering the rampant self-hatred that became ingrained in mark in the last 2 years.

my two favorite headcanons for gemma's testing floor experiences are that 1. lumon actually gave her real plants for her room but they had to take them away pretty quickly once she started weaponizing them against mauer lmao and 2. one of her innies is tending to ant farms. because there's no fucking way that lumon doesn't know about the little ant farm exchange that happened in her office.

as far as where i want her story to go next season...whew.

BEST case scenario that will absolutely never happen is gemma replaces mark as the main character. like, no, not just becoming a main character. i want her to be the main character. title sequence modeled after her and everything. but since we won't get that, i think it's reasonable to expect that she'll become one of the main characters (realistically probably cobel-level screen time + character development).

out of all the outies, gemma has the most capacity to understand the innie experience considering that she functionally lived her life as an innie for two years. she's also been characterized as an empathetic person. so i think she's the character that is best set up to be able to provide allyship to the innies (as i imagine that the innies will manufacture a sit-in type protest with a detained milchick in their pocket) which of course would be an incredibly complicated position to be in, considering that her husband's innie is stuck down there and clearly in love with someone else. but i would do just about anything for a scene where gemma tries to reason with helly to get her and mark to leave the building, because britt has mentioned that gemma is probably the first outie that helly has had empathy for. their conversation could be explosive (hot) but i think it's more likely that it would be tense and emotional (which is also...kind of hot).

i think there are so many different directions they could take her storyline...but my main wish list items (realistically) for gemma are: 1. we get to see ms. casey at least 1 more time 2. we get multiple scenes with her and devon 3. we get at least one scene with helly or helena (ideally both) 4. she doesn't die...my number 5 with an asterisk is watching her and mark fall back in love, which would be incredibly sweet and healing, but if they end up splitting, it's gotta be on gemma's terms. [pointing at dan erickson] or else 🫵

#answered #Anonymous #gemma scout #severance #sev notes #i hope this was enough yapping for you fdhajks #number 1 on my delusional wishlist is that gemma and hellyna end up together with or without mark btw #there are more things i could say about gemhellyna specifically and i would happily yap about them #but y'all can also just read kamt for my gemhellyna hcs lmao i poured most of them into that fic #thank you for the ask!!! i love yapping i love gemma i love severance

24 notes · View notes

mooshs-crack-headcanons · 2 days ago

Note

If you're writing for doom now could we get doom slayer's first time with a gender neutral s/o please? Thank you 🙏

I literally did the classic doom guy grin upon opening this ask I was ready and waiting for it and hope this doesn't disappoint!

Disclaimer: Trans masc doom slayer, he's one of those characters I literally don't see as cis so that's my default for him going forward I hope that's alright. Switch Doom Slayer, slight AFAB genitalia terms used for him, and btw also SELF INDULGANT PLOT 🗣

(Gender neutral reader)

Sex is kind of a... touchy subject for him. Just something he never really had much interest in, growing up he always wanted to be military and over his teenage years and into adulthood that was his main focus, his main priority, get good grades and be fit to serve. So he never really did have the time for - that - hell even if he wanted to its not like he really had the skill to so casually talk to people not even fathom getting to know somebody to get into that position in the first place. Not to mention the other factors... with himself, his body, so more ways than one he wasn't at all interested what it had to offer. After all he wanted to be a marine, saving people's lives, that was obviously more important than self pleasure.

But that was... thousands of years ago. And here he was now, the Apex Predator of Hell, the Hellwalker, the Doom Slayer. Still a virgin.

He honestly could give less of a shit, it was a complete understatement of how much of a low list 'priority' (if you could even fucking consider it that) of his considering the unfathomable amount of bullshit he has had to put up through since the Phobos Incident in his original universe.

He's had propositions, all by very ballsy Night Sentinels that actually had the courage to actually come up and talk to him during the rare instances of the Maykrs having him out during non combative down time, still on their leash however, akin to taking a dog on a walk or said dog would bark and growl and snap at the confines of his enclosure dispite the shock collar - and they found that annoying. And a risk.

All propositions he said no to, which he didn't even need Maykr control to decline for, he was much more interested in trying out new weapons the Sentinel barracks provided for him in their training grounds and they were interrupting him getting to play with his new toys. Honestly? It was just rude of them.

And still, after the Ahzrak's crushed head, the Maykrs betrayal, the Sentinel civil war, Valen's betrayal, spending all that unfathomable time with him in that cave, getting shoved in and gasping out of that sarcophagus and continuing his bloody war path it was still the farthest thing from his mind.

Then he met you.

You were... different than people he's met. With how long either people having either fear him, hate him, or respect him but not really as a person but for his strength and conviction instead - you actually took the time to understand him, you actually... treated him like a person. He can't even remember the last time someone did that, probably somewhere in his old ancient life but even still.

He thought at first it was only because he saved your life and gave you a place to stay at the Fortress since you had no where else to since the demons laid your home in ruins, everyone you knew dead - he knows that feeling all too well as well after all. But no, seeing how you carry yourself spoke loud and clear that it wasn't just for base gratitude or some debt, you were kind - genuinely thankful but very kind. With how polite you were to VEGA and how you actually made effort to talk to the Slayer himself, even when he isn't the most social in the world and sometimes his actions could be interpreted as rude: like you speaking to him in one sided conversation as he walks over to his workbench to work on his guns, but he's still listening, hanging on every word you say even if on the outside it's hard to show that. But you keep doing it because you understand that he's listening, never pressuring him to comment on anything until one day he surprises you and does.

Looking back on it he thinks it the first ever thing he's verbally ever said to you, up to this point he's been communicating through slow nods and slight hand gestures. It obviously takes you by surprise as you fall silent in the doorway. He doesn't look all the way back but he glances from the corner of his eye to see the cute flustered look on your face.

Oh you were something truly special.

After everything he's been through it's hard to genuinely scare him anymore, however, coming to terms on his own feelings towards you? Terrified him to death. He recognizes it the mere instant it sets in and it causes a whole body panic within him that his entire being has to stiffen up to contain if not he would completely loose himself.

Scenarios, bloody ones, run through his mind at night for weeks on end. He can't control them, invasive fears that drag him along every time he even thinks of closing his eyes. He's seen so much violence, so much cruelty, so much death. He couldn't imagine what he'd even do with himself if he lost you. But he takes all of it in silent stride, self contained, heavy on his shoulders. Like he always has.

He should've known better you would be quick to catch on. Quick to confront him.

He can't look you in the eye as you address him, asking what's wrong, he's about to set out on a mission with his weapons laid out before him for final assessments to be fully equipped when you've stopped him. There's a knot in his throat as he turns away and is about to pull over the helmet onto his head before you stop him by placing your hands on his arms and tugging them down so you can properly see his face - which only makes the knot swell as he sees you from the corner of his eyes still verting away from you.

You're so... gentle with him he's not exactly sure what to do, his body briefly stiffens all over but his bones simply melt with your warm touch he can't help but slowly relax as you just gently hold him. Your palms are so soft as they come up to greet the roughness of his face, his brows narrow together for a bit before he finds your not directly looking at him either - until you notice he's looking at you and you stare at one another. Your eyes are really pretty.

In a snap the moment ends end you let go of his face and clear your throat, cheeks tinted.

"I know fighting helps you clear your head so I'm sorry for keeping you... just promise you'll come back safe, alright?" You ask him to promise, uneasy he swallows and nods, about to grab his shotgun from off the table next to him before suddenly your hand is back cupping his cheek and pepping a quick kiss on the partnering one by standing on your tiptoes. Before his brain even process it your scurried off to the other room, leaving him standing there.

His hand that was on the shotgun unclasps it and slowly, clumsily, finds it's way onto your kiss.

Oh.

Things are... a little bit different afterwards. Neither of you have really said anything about feelings necessarily out loud but there's more physical affection than before. It scared him, honestly, but if there's one thing about you he's come to really love and appreciate it's exactly how patient and slow you were willing to take things - even if it meant just learning how to hold hands for awhile. His hands are so much bigger than yours, they swamp them when gently he entangles them. He felt like just with your hand alone as if he was holding the entire world.

Kissing was another thing, anxiety sweltering in him the first couple times, but again, thanks to your help it was something else to mentally conquer. He loves kissing you, how soft your lips are, how they taste so nice, it nearly makes him dizzy - makes you dizzy too, hell, smugass in him thinks he just might have a talent for it (he teases, he teases)

Then there was the elephant in the room, the topic he wasn't sure if ever he could come out and say but you had to figure it out on your own one night.

You've helped him treat injuries before, nothing too severe as his body with all thousands of years of Hellic bullshit has adjusted to quite a lot to inhuman degrees, but he was still human at the end of the day. One mission he'd been to careless and too lost in the rage and blood-lust that he had came out with a large gash on his size that would be impossible to treat on the field, the Slayer Suit can only fix so much, so he comes back through the portal pooling with blood that pours out of the wound from his exposed breech in his suit and he can barely only hold on to consciousness to hear your panicked plea out from him before he collapses on the floor.

He wakes up staring at the ceiling of his room, VEGA's voice loud in his ear over the entercom yet muffled until sleep fades from his being bit by bit, last part he hears clearly is stern warnings that he should've listened to the retreat suggestions when the armor faulty was urgently reported - but the last hoard of demons were circling that village, he couldn't just abandon them.

"It appears you didn't hear my suggestion the five times I had sent it. In future reference, would six suffice?" He knows the AI means well but he can't help the cheeky middle finger.

He then looks down to get a proper look at the state of himself, he laid shirtless in bed with bandage wrap around his stomach. Your doing, too human of work to be one of the Fortress' drones. That being said he looks at the deep ugly scars underlining his chest with a deep sigh, his head falling back to the pillow propped under him.

Guess he couldn't make up a freaky cool war story about those, huh? Shit.

His hand itches around the old Argent implant in thought. He should be honest with you, he's always honest with you, he's just... never had to tell anyone, like this anyway, recruitment people for the Marines knew but never really gave a shit he thinks - he was really big and really good with a gun, perfect solider material. Why would they give a shit what's in or not in his pants? But with you it's obviously different.

Speaking of you, the door to his room clicks and slides open automatically as you come in with your arms completely full with the thick and deceptively heavy box of a medkit - on instinct his body moves to get up and go help you carry it only for the sharp stabbing in his side to remind himself of the shape he's in. You quickly set the box down to ease him back properly in bed, which he relents, letting his bones jelly out as he watches you huff through your nose before with an (admittedly cute) growl you lift the box over onto the edge of the bed before popping it open revealing the large packs of blue healing gel and rolls of bandages - treating him did take a lot of resources after all.

"How are you feeling?" You ask, not looking at him directly but he could make out you glancing over at him from the corner of your eye to receive his usual non verbal response; which this time he leaves as a light uneven nod - he wasn't dead. That should be good enough. With one pack of gel in hand you step over closer to his bedside.

"Is it alright if I change your bandages? They're stained now the gels worn off." He looks down at himself, he spots the red tinted spot on the cloth but he stares longer further upwards directly underneath his chest. He swallows then nods once more.

You already did them once why bother asking to do it again? Just do it. He would add if it weren't on the physical strain it takes to speak. But then he realizes how that'd sound and remembers the patience you have with him, this was clearly just a part of it. You undo the bandages off of him and set them off to the side somewhere, his wound still bled from the cracks of the dried blue healing layer that ate slowly to his recovery, normally with regular humans it wouldn't take a whole bunch but he's anything but ordinary so for wounds of this extent he couldn't just shake off it takes several to really do anything to him, or maybe it was because of how adjusted he was to Argent engery long to this point it had the same less effective functionality to him, like taking the same kind of medication every time your sick. But over thousands of years.

You open the pack and begin to lather his side with it, the gel drying and sealing icy cold with that prickling feeling he's use to. Then another pack, and another, and another and so until eventually the area grows numb with full effect. He eases back into the mattress without even realizing he'd tensed up, that being the sign for you to take that enough had been applied and you grab the bandage roll to begin wrapping around him, though making him sit up slightly to get it on more proper.

"Couple more hours it'll need to be reapplied again but it did look much better than it did." You tell him, beginning to put supplies away. It's quiet for a long moment.

"You had me scared, you know? Coming back like that - why didn't you retreat when VEGA told you to?" You don't sound angry at him, you're very calm all things considered, but it still doesn't deter the guilty feeling in his stomach.

"People."

You look at him. So soft and sad it hurts. You reach over and hold his hand.

"You can't help people when you're hurt." He knows. And he knows you know.

"I'm sorry. It was a stupid mistake - adrenaline - got to my head and... moved wrecklessly. It was stupid."

Especially so, he's been doing this for unconceivably long he should know better but he slipped, anger got the better of him and he took to long on an execution to react to a Marauder blade catching him like that, taking advantage of weak point he deliberately left open not wanting to abandon the village to repair his suit. Ignoring VEGA's several warnings. Though, on this level of a fuck up it did make him feel like a rookie Marine again - in a sick and twisted way.

You draw him out of his thoughts and slipping memories when you lean over to press a soft brief kiss to his lips, still holding a comforting squeeze on his hand. Before he can bring himself to respond you rest your head on his chest, still sitting on the edge of the bed beside him but now tucked into him and using him as a pillow. Whatever he was going to say didn't matter then. He looks down at you, how your eyes were lazily closed but still clearly awake, you looked so... delicate, small compared to him. It takes a lot of strength to gather the courage but gently, so he doesn't accidentally harm you, he pats your head.

A passing while it hits him, the dread and discomfort he was feeling about his scars and what they meant had completely faded away. Here you were laying on them, didn't address them once.

...but he had to. It would eat at him if he didn't.

You'd nearly fallen asleep until he gently shakes you awake, pushing you to sit up with serious intent to talk. He tries the best he could explaining, honestly he isn't sure how to explain the exact feeling he's always had since that day Grandma Taggart put him in that Easter dress and it felt horribly wrong and how on the other hand how rightfully good it felt dreaming of being a combat hero just like his great-great grandfather BJ Blazkowicz, the man who literally killed Hitler. Both at the age of nine. He wasn't sure if it made sense, it was how he explained to his parents and they were luckily very supportive, but they were also his parents... so to cut it short your potential reaction terrified him. But it shouldn't, he know it shouldn't, and with how you just look at him confirms that.

"You're still you. You who have all these admirable, brave, kind, heroic-if-not-self-sacrificing aspects. You made yourself. You're the man who saved me and showed me there is still justice in this cruel existence - the man I fell in love with."

He's so distracted of the dam of relief of your support breaking that he nearly doesn't catch the last part you said. Bronze eyes turn wide, lips parted, he looks at you as if he thought himself in a dream and looks to nearly start slapping himself awake until you press another kiss to his lips, this time he stiffs but ultimately melts into it. More relaxed by each second.

When you two pull away there's a haziness in the air, carefully, you move to properly lay at the Slayer's side being mindful of his still present injury only tucked away behind a good couple tight circuits of cloth and wrap your arms around him to take in his warmth, head buried in his neck. The haze grows tiring, sleep creeps heavy on his eyelids and you too seemingly are not that far behind as your yawn is warm on his skin. The lights in the room dim, embarrassing reminder of the AI omnipresent throughout the whole Fortress but particularly now in this room. But nevermind that, he looks down at you and your sleepy form with the desire to speak - however his throat seems to be against him as he strains to, seemingly reached his limit of words tonight. But maybe it was for the best as now he could be up your soft snoring.

He loved you too.

He loves you so much. So much it still terrifies him, however, like always you're there to quell his fears, his doubts, second thoughts, you comfort him in a way he has never been before. You were something so truly special to him. Before long... desires strike.

Very brief at first. Surges that come from sudden touches, grazes, glances. But he's able to quickly shake it off without really realizing it.

...until he does.

He realizes when his touch lingers for a couple moments too longer, his eyes start to wonder when you're not looking, you start visiting his dreams...

He's deeply ashamed of it, so embarrassed with his face a scolding red he doesn't think he's felt in anyway besides letting out extreme rage on the battlefield, speaking of, there's where he takes it out on - either waking up in the dead of night and immediately mad dashing to his training arena to let of steam or if really, really, really bad he'll set off on a quick mission to slaughter some demons in hope to settle himself out.

So, not healthy ways to take care of it. He's aware of that. Still feeling ashamed.

He should've expected you to figure it out at some point, after months of this he's grown unintentionally distant from you, and he should've also expected for you to address it in some way.

Half dressed in his bed wasn't how he would've expected it however.

There seems to be a delay in between his eyes and brain to process the shocking sight before him, you usually always come to greet him when he returns home from demon excursions and you not being there this time is what led him to search without properly stripping off his suit, his boots are practically cement in the ground as he stands in the doorway of what had become in the past year your shared bedroom. But maybe he should've assumed something was up, VEGA had seemed purposely aloof and dense on where you could've been located or what you had been doing when he asked, you two must've planned on this.

...but how could he be upset when you wore one of the baggiest shirts you owned that were pushed up to reveal his boxers underneath around your thighs? He wasn't a religious man but good God.

He doesn't need to be talked into, he wants and needs you, the fear and anxiety is still there and eats at him but he knows with you it's going to be okay - he couldn't do this with anybody else in every universe and realm imaginable but you.

First piece of the armor to come off is the helmet as he stands by the edge of the bed and you up on your knees practically rip it off and toss it across the room to meet him in a feverish kiss. One by one each piece is removed and fallen to the floor with a heavy clunk, leaving him in only the tight black bodysuit he wears underneath. Your lips never part, your fingers find them tight short cropped dark brown hair that your drag him down so you can fall on your back, parting the kiss in heavy breaths as you feel yourself up and let the shirt ride up your stomach to expose more skin, your spine then arches as you softly plea for him to touch you.

He treats you so gently as if one wrong move would break you, he's a big man after all - his hands have ripped and tore through hordes of legions of Hell alone in his self brought bloody crusade against demonkind, they've been twisted, crafted for violence for so long... deep down unknownst to himself he's been desperate for human touch but he's scared to death of not being capable of returning it, even more so of it decaying completely and his affection hurts you - or worse. He kills everything he touches.

That fear is always in the back of his mind even when he tries his damndest to pretend to you it isn't.

His large hands are warm on your skin, traveling and caressing everything he can but nothing too grounded. His face is buried in your neck peppering kisses along the base of your throat, taking in your soft hums and feels almost dizzy with your fingers in his hair encouraging his movements. Your thighs are wrapped tight around his waist as he sat stiff on his knees in between your legs and bent over top of you on the bed.

"Flynn, Flynn," You huff in pleasure, encouraging him to do more - but it hits him... he isn't exactly sure what 'more' is. Okay no, he knows what 'more' is but he doesn't... how does he...? What is he doing?

"Flynn?" As always it doesn't take you long to notice. He stares down at you honest, he tries speaking with no success.

You study his face, your eyes drifting downwards then noticed how his arms holding himself up above you slightly trembled - something he didn't even realize - it clicks for you.

"You haven't... oh." There's several emotions across your face, all in some kind of thought, before you lean up and guide him to reverse your positions: him on his back and you above him.

"I can take care of you if that's okay." He looks at you for a long moment, an inner fight within himself that he succumbs to one side completely, he needed you more than anything.

'Please.' He mouths.

You didn't expect him to be this loud, you know, given how he carries himself normally. And honestly? He didn't either. But he can't help all the noise that slips out, how his chest pants and rocks for breath, the mere instant you touch him - delicately if barely at all your fingers graze at his folds that got him shooting his head back further into the pillow at his head and his thick thighs, marred with centuries old battle scars, tremble upon themselves as he still manages to keep them bowed back for you.

Your touch lit his skin on fire that not even the deepest pits of Hell he's literally has crawled out of out could compare - and you basically hadn't done anything to him yet.

He doesn't falter, you have stopped but he grips on the mattress (mindful he doesn't tear it) underneath him and lightly raises his head up to look at you with large bronze colored eyes.

"..." His mouth hangs open, all of his might he tries to push words out but he physically can't, they knot and bunch up in his throat and stab at him if he further tries pushing it. But it's okay as your hands, so small and delicate compared to his mass, feather-light trace up the churning muscle of his stomach and up to his chest where you gently push him back down.

He looks at you then everything fades, fear, anxieties, everything melts away. Only replaced by calm. He peers down to see how the top of your hand is barely masked by the thick layer of chest hair and he slowly reaches up cup it, make you hold down on him in your palm tight. He was still with you through this... you now in between his legs.

He hums, he groans, whines, and curses through barred teeth as your fingers pump his hole - one or two or three fingers weren't nearly enough so you practically have your whole hand in there fucking him senseless. His body twitches, pulses, almost spasming with his how good he felt but he tries not to make too sudden or harsh of movements not to accidentally hurt you as he is still very much larger than the average human, but it's rather quite difficult when you're treating him this well.

But he needed more.

He wants to plea but physically can't form the words, only pathetic noises left in their wake as his hips bounce to meet your thrusting hand - it felt good, so good that tears blot in his eyes he fails to realize until you bend down to kiss them away. You actually keep kissing, your fingers still keeping quick pace at him, you kiss under his jaw to his neck to his chest to his stomach - lower and lower until your crouched down with your breath so electrifying on his sex as you hover before you completely engulf the fat numb of his clit in your mouth. All struggles of forming words together are completely shoved out.

"FUCk!" He shouts out, eyes wide, underneath him not just the sheets tear but as well as the mattress with claw marks left by his hands.

His chest heaves with every breath he takes, you suck and swirl your tongue around him at the same time still fucking his hole with nearly your entire fist it's easy to be over stimulated but he's hanging on every second in pure ecstasy.

"-more, more, more, more, more-" He huffs, hands clutch tighter onto the tore mattress even if he has the desire to grab ahold of your head to encourage an even faster pace but he's terrified of accidentally hurting you being not in control of his own strength to something so... intense like this. He'd rather you in control of the reigns.

He gasps as he suddenly feels dragged high without warning, the churning that's been building in his stomach snaps and his eyes roll to the back of his head as pleasure like he's never felt before washing over him. His body feels hot, his bones melt, and the only grounded feeling he has is the twitching he's aware of around your soaked hand.

He's wheezing, actually wheezing to catch his breath, feeling starts to return to his body just has you slip your hand out. He looks at you in what he'd probably guess if he were to look at himself as pathetic but you in return look at him soft; small smile on your lips as you meet to kiss him again - letting him have a taste of himself.

"How was that?" You ask.

'Good.' He mouths.

"You okay for more?" He still feels woozy but he nods, a wicked grin flashes across your face.

"Good."

Before he can question it or gather the strength to lift himself up to see what you were pulling from out under the bed he sees its a box. You hand it over to him, who sluggishly finally is able to sit up to open it and-

It was a strap-on.

Oh so you really planned this.

He couldn't help but to laugh at it at first, dumb looking green toy that was at a.... generous size - you called it fitting, he's a big man after all - but you know what? As stupid as it looked? It felt right, on him. Seeing a cock on him, even if it was green (you added green was also his color, so) and seeing your tiny hand stroking around such a big size REALLY starts doing something to him.

You put your mouth on it, even if it technically did nothing seeing your mouth stretch and gag around it really does more to him - even bucks his hips but he controls himself not to accidentally hurt your throat. His moans are low and huffy, completely contrast to the whining mess he was earlier, his eyes fall slacked and lazy as he watches you until you come up gasping for breath.

You've already been out of your shirt but putting his large hands on your hips do you make him take his boxers off you, grabbing and groping handfuls of ass as he goes and you wiggle free to be both completely naked together. The plastic of the strap is warm and wet from your previous activity but it brushes nicely against your thighs before you can't help yourself but rock into it.

"Flynn," You hum and you moan until you grab a hold of it and align it with yourself, hovering over it to look at your lover for one last confirmation. "-ready?"

"Please." He breathily pleads.

You sink yourself so full down onto it that your breath disapates from your body and you forget how to breathe for a second, his touch on you to keep you straddled riding on his waist being the only thing keeping you grounded.

"Are... you alright?" You flash him a dumb grin.

"Yeah. Your dicks huge, you know?"

He looks away from that, clearly flustered. His dick. Validating praises seemed to do something. You keep that in mind. Small movements at first you keep a steady rhythm. He goes along with it, encouraging your movements by his hands guiding your hips with each increasingly wet thrusts.

They grow faster and harder over time, you cooing out praises seem to increase them further until you are no longer in control of the rhythm as you are throughly fucked up and down until suddenly your pushed to your back where you loose control over your own voice. He leans over you, holding your legs up over his shoulders as he fucks you so deep - all previous fears and insecurities he's shown over the night gone, as he finally trusts himself with you, he won't hurt you.

"I love you," He says taking you by complete shock as he hasn't voiced the sentiment out loud before.

"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I-" Over and over he repeats raspy and strained as his voice tends to be but it means so much to you - you mean so much to him - he choices to fight through whatever pain to make sure it is said loud and clear and is known and you are loudly coming around his cock while he says it to absolutely cement it.

Sweaty and exhausted you two lay in each other's arms once it's all through. Somethings different, yet at the same time it isn't, your skin is so soft under his touch as he traces his fingertips down the width of your back as you're nearly dozed off. It's calm, he has a peace of mind he hasn't had in literally thousands of years - demons the furthest from his mind. It was nice. Really nice. He never wants it to end even though you both know it has to, Hell never quits nor runs dry with demons. But for now? This was more than fine.

Would really like and appreciate to know what you think about what you read in tags on reblogs I absolutely thrive off it, thank you for reading 🫶

#doom #doom the dark ages #doom eternal #doom 2016 #doom slayer #doom guy #doomguy #doom marine #flynn taggart #doom slayer x reader #doom guy x reader #doomguy x reader #doom marine x reader #flynn taggart x reader #mine #n.sfw #sin content #non request related

23 notes · View notes