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#the image of this is so vivid in my head you have no idea
solace-seekers · 2 years
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percy’s defintiely given the instinctual heavy *pat pat* treatment to Mrs. O Leary only for her to respond by automatically flopping down on the ground and absolutely crushing percy in the process
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u3pxx · 6 days
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KIM KITSURAGI - “Is that. My kineema.”
COMPOSURE [Medium: Success] - Something in him is about to break, *big time*.
EMPATHY - And it’s not going to be pretty, do something!
- DRAMA [Formidable] - Everything is fine!
- “Sure is.”
DRAMA [Formidable: Failure] - Surely he’s aware that he’s not the *only* person in the world who owns a Kineema?
YOU - “Is it really *yours*? I mean, plenty of people have their own Kineemas, right? Like working men, government offices, uh, firefighters I guess, maybe even animal control people? Exactly! A million different people who could’ve driven it into the uh…”
DRAMA - Pause, my liege! Ixnay on the Ineemakay!
YOU - “It could even be our *mysterious* joyrider!”
KIM KITSURAGI - Your frenzied babbling falls deaf to the lieutenant's ears. Instead, he approaches the broken vehicle, sunken in the ice. He moves with a caution and gentleness you haven’t seen him display before.
INLAND EMPIRE - It must be cold and lonely down there, in the icy water. Maybe he could sense its sorrow, calling to him…
PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Easy: Success] - His hands, which are always stiffly placed behind his back, are trembling.
ENDURANCE - This is the shuffle of a tired, tired man.
HALF LIGHT - He’s going to do something drastic because of you. Oh god, terrible! You’re a terrible liar! You can’t look at this, you just can’t!
VOLITION [Formidable: Success] - It's not *you* who drove his kineema into the sea. You have plenty of faults, but this one is decidedly not yours.
KIM KITSURAGI - He kneels down with his head bowed, casting his face in shadow. He plants a hand on the ice to stabilize himself, squinting to get a better view of the motor carriage. “Detective, it says ‘57’ on it.”
YOU - Sweat drips down your brow, and you feel a terrible headache coming. “Maybe our joyrider has an affinity for that number?”
LOGIC - He's not stupid, he knows that it's not that.
KIM KITSURAGI - “57.”
YOU - “What about 57?”, you brace yourself.
KIM KITSURAGI - “Precinct 57.”
YOU - You wince. “Kim, look-”
KIM KITSURAGI - “When I woke up in the Whirling-in-Rags with no memory of what happened during the days before, I've taken note that something of mine has gone missing.” He grits his teeth. "A very. Important. Something."
He runs his hands over his face, messing his already unkempt hair in the process. Regret creeps up on his features. “God. Fuck. They’re going to fire me over this, they’re not going to hear me out.”
EMPATHY - Desperation settles in the lieutenant's tone. Sadly, you find yourself in agreement, even if you don’t want it to be the truth.
YOU - “People are more valuable than machines, Kim.”
KIM KITSURAGI - “Not people like me.” He rasps.
YOU - “…”
KIM KITSURAGI - Before you can say anything more, you fail to notice the lieutenant carefully walking onto the edge of the ice. He looks over the frigid water, a dizzying blue that mirrors and distorts his exhausted face back to him.
YOU - “Kim?”
KIM KITSURAGI - Seconds pass as he looks to be contemplating something. Out of nowhere, he casually takes another step where the ice ends and the sea begins. It happens all too quick for the lieutenant to even voice a call for help— if he even wanted to — his body plunging into the cold water before your eyes.
YOU - “KIM!!!!”
uhhh bonus stuff? sorry i have swap au brainworms pfttt
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(im not sure what skills kim has at the moment so rn he only has narration as his inner monologue ok whoops, i would like to keep harry as the guy who thinks in dialogue trees so im still figuring it out pfttt)
also, this was done bc i wanted to expand on these old scribbles of mine, just like an idea, i just think that he'd be having an even worse time wheezes
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arijackz · 22 days
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PICK A CARD: What are your most alluring qualities?
🂺 "Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears." ~ Edgar Allen Poe~
Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. This is meant to help uplift your spirit and highlight qualities about you that transcend space and time and manage to energetically get picked up by lil ol' me. Who then tries to put that inexplicable beauty into words. :)
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p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4
☀︎ Pile One ☀︎ (nine of cups, magician rev., moon rev.,hanged man, page of cups, queen of cups)
⇾ Pink. Yellow. Fuzzy. This feels so warm, there's heat around my waist. Maybe you’re a dancer? Do you like to wear very big pullovers or extra garments around your waist? Corsets? I’m getting a strong emphasis with an attraction toward your waistline. Also, a very airy feeling in my ribs. ⇾ You’re fucking hilarious. Your ability to uplift any room’s vibe is extremely attractive. Strong water energy, Cancer, Pisces, Scorpio, 4th, 8th, 12th house. But not as emotionally heavy. Not the thunderstorm but the sunny, dewy morning after. Literal sunshine. You may have a signature scent. Coconut, vanilla, brown sugar. Before shuffling your cards, my nose was congested but while I was channeling, I had these moments where air would pass through the room, clear my sinuses, and the tingling feeling in my ribs came back. ⇾ You’re a high. A nice clean, mellow high. The brief moments in time when your body completely relaxes and you start flowing with the wind. People are addicted to how you make them feel. Your energy feels like the first hit of that oui. wink wink. People get a hit of your energy and it feels like an escape. This is my intuitive and sensitive dreamy pile. There is a lot of emotional depth here, you’re enigmatic. Being in your presence transports people to a simpler time in their lives. A period where the sun shined brighter, the air was cleaner, and all the color in the world felt more vivid. People can sense the storm raging in the back of your head but can visually see your perseverance and ability to not let darkness rot you, keeping this light and airy energy. It’s almost superhuman, you almost seem not real. You’re impossibly infectious. ⇾ You have a lot of natural inner abundance, you attract a lot in life even if you don’t realize it. I’m getting moksha house energy, a strong wheelhouse of influential power. The duality of your sweet, caring but reserved introspective nature is sexy as fuck, to be honest. It is hypnotizing and ignites people. I also see you have attractive skin, whether it’s clear, glowy, or cute moles, I'm not sure. But something about your skin people just can’t help but want to trace and admire. Jupiter/Pisces energy. Sugary sweet and in your own world, I feel like I have a toothache. Rare kind and light energy. Your attractiveness and romantic influence on people is one of your natural talents pile 1. I can see that with the Jupiterian energy I'm getting. You got 3 major arcana cards back to back. You’re a light in the dark and people are moths to a flame.
"You're pretty like a memory"
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☀︎ Pile Two ☀︎ (ace of swords, the tower, knight of swords, 6 of swords rev, the magician, 3 of wands)
⇾ Well for starters, you’re SEXXXYYYY. Not just physically, but your wit, intelligence…people’s attraction to you gives me the image of Joan of Arc’s admirers. People perceive you as gorgeous, brave, and intimidatingly capable. ⇾ I’m getting Uranian energy, Yes, something about you is very mercurial, but this is next level. In modern astrology, Uranus is a higher octave of Mercury and symbolizes putting these higher-level ideas into action. Your ability to think of a goal and go after it is attractive. Or have a belief and fiercely defend it. I don’t know if you’re aware, but you have an innate ability to monetize or profit off of your ideas and skills. Especially with all this sword energy, the 3 of wands, AND the magician. Mane, you make shit HAPPEN. You make shit shake. A lot of people say they’re going to do things they have no intention of starting or say things they don’t actually believe. You are a rare exception to that. You put your money where your mouth is, and the amount of willpower and intelligence you possess is intimidating yet so very very attractive. ⇾ There’s gotta be some major concentration in your natal chart, a stellium, a reoccurring modality, sign, not sure but your energy is uniquely focused and intense. You may sometimes battle with excess mental energy. Anxiety, overthinking, etc. You’re a harbinger of change. Wherever you go, major changes follow and there is something very important about your energy. Your footprint in this world is larger than the average person’s. Your sense of self and your loyalty to your authenticity and values is highly admirable. *whispers* maybe even enviable, watch out for negative intentions and trust your discernment. ⇾ Whether you’re a man or woman watching this, you intimidate a lot of men. You’re the creme of the crop so to speak. You are the human embodiment of a warrior. Strategic, brave, and your fire cannot be dimmed. You have this eternal energy to you. Your name will be sung long after you leave this Earth. There will be tales and songs about you. There is an emphasis on making a change and legacy here, 10th house/ Capricorn Energy. Solar and Jupiterian energy is possible too, there's a lot of king semblance here. I feel like your frame is very attractive. Defined muscles especially around your neck and shoulders. Fox attractiveness. Sharp features, or some special emphasis with your lips, jaw, and teeth.  There is a lot of sexual attraction in this pile. I was shuffling and getting flashes of old Wattpad enemies to lovers and dark academia rivalry fanfiction 😭😭. I’m getting a headrush. Maybe you feel like a headrush to people at times.  You might look good in darker, cool-tone colors or have dark hair. ⇾ You make people aware of their shortcomings and that triggers them. You trigger strong emotions in people. People see you as superior to many, you’re either singled out in a crowd positively or negatively. People either love or hate you but it is undeniable that you are sexy and very fucking capable. You also have the ace of wands at the bottom of the deck…like I said…sexy and capable.
"Don't look at me with those eyes"
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☀︎ Pile Three ☀︎ (The tower, queen of swords, three of pentacles, queen of wands, 9 of wands)
⇾ This is my dark feminine pile. 🎶Sheee’sssss a maaaann eeeaaatttttttuuuhhhhhhhh🎶, Ironically, the black cat got chosen for this pile. The tower paired with the two queen cards screams shadowy feminine to me, but balanced. The three of pentacles create a bridge between your intense fire and air energy. You balance your shadowy, detached and your fiery, passionate nature and it creates this intoxicating dichotomy that people can not get enough of. ⇾ You also are reserved and guarded, people can tell it is hard to gain your trust and gain access to your inner world so people subconsciously try hard to earn your favor. When I was laying out your cards my eyes got heavy and I felt like I needed to go to bed. You have a very sultry sluggishness to you. Think about Corpse Bride, how her eyes were always low, she moved slowly, and her voice was low. You have a dark veil over your character that is very alluring. There may be an 8th house or Mars emphasis in your natal chart. Make sure to check your planetary midpoints. ⇾ I am getting a Gabriette Betchel vibe. There's a darkness around the eyes of the man standing in the nine of wands. There is a draw to the shape of your eyes, especially if they droop a little or you have sunken eyes. Maybe you like dark makeup if you’re into makeup. This pile definitely had a crush on Morticia Adams growing up. You ARE Morticia Adams. Pretty Rave Girl is playing in my head, I don’t associate your energy with the rave aesthetic but I get the sense that people fantasize about you. You’re naturally mysterious and detached and most people only have an idea of you rather than a one-on-one connection. You may face a lot of projections, there’s fog around people’s perception of you. Plutonian-type power, insanely magnetic, with Neputinian-type glamour, veiled and shapeshifting. There may be some WLW baddies in this collective. ⇾ I feel like a very small number of people truly know you, you are reserved and selective with your energy and let me tell you, that is the most attractive practice a human being can implement. You are a once-in-a-lifetime personality that people dream about embodying. YOU ARE AN AESTHETIC. Well not exactly, I’m not limiting you down to your appearance. But you are the ideal embodiment of the dark feminine, man-eater aesthetic. The other three piles felt like concepts that I tried to piece together to paint a picture, your pile feels like a tried and true timeless dark sexiness that we've seen in cinema and music videos throughout the years. There is range here though, I’m feeling anywhere between Morticia Adams to Effy from Skins. The allure of Hollywood’s bombshells mixed with the angst and self-guardedness of America’s outcasted teen icons. I’m seeing an emerald snake, if you’re into sidereal astrology you may have ashlesha placements. I could write an entire essay about the fucking bullshit you've endured and THRIVED FROM but this is already getting a lil lengthy lol. Just know that you are living testament to the saying “I get knocked down ten times but get up eleven.” Stay sexy pookie.
"You got your HP Lovecraft... your Edgar Allan Poe"
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☀︎ Pile Four ☀︎ (high priestess, two of swords, 4 of pentacles, the empress, knight of pentacles, 10 of cups)
⇾ UHHHH THE DRAAMMAAA. Bae, the high priestess FLEW out. You’re angelic. No mf backtalk. I don’t know about the stereotypical angel, but something about your presence is otherworldly. So intense but hard to conceptualize, can’t classify your energy as anything less than angelic. People see you as something holy and righteous. A theme of fairness and divinity is strong here. I’m seeing the virgin (Virgo, purity) and a gavel (libra, balance and fairness.) Your energy is always in a state of balance and harmony. Temperance did not come out, but I’d bet my top dollar that it would have if I kept pulling. ⇾ I’m hearing a steady water stream and the flaps of bird wings. People come to you for peace and tranquility. Your aura is serene and healing. Being near you is like transporting to a haven with clean water, a sustainable garden, fresh air, and BUNNIES. An image of a ton of white bunnies just came to me. This is not an 18+ reading, so I won’t go into detail but bunnies represent fertility and high sexual energy. You have an abundance of creativity. The best representation of people’s attraction to you I can put into words is like seeing raw energy. There’s this movie that came out in 2017 called Annihilation and there’s a scene where the main character comes into contact with pure energy and is so entranced by it that she just stares at it head empty, blankly in complete awe. THAT is how people see you. Like c’mon high priestess, the empress, 10 of cups, don’t ever fucking question yourself. You have an undeniably divine aura. ⇾ You’re a big deal, you're energy is very enlightening and calm but there is a heavy weight to it. Everything you do in life makes an impression and holds weight. Your thoughts matter, your conversation changes lives, and your very presence makes an imprint on people’s souls. Virgo 6th house, libra 7th house, Scorpio 8th house, Pisces 12th house. ⇾ You also have a very stable, Earthy nature to you with the 4 of pentacles and the Empress. To me, this is pure wealth. You will see a lot of luxury in your lifetime. You are a giver, you have a lot to offer the world. You are the epitome of “fill my own cup and let it overflow to those around me.” You share your abundance and prosperity follows you. You have the divine understanding that life is all about balance and what you give, you receive tenfold. ⇾ People think you look really good in white. Blonde hair could be a good look on you. Any aesthetic that involves purity or innocence really suits you. Personally, I’d say you look fucking killer in red hair. ⇾ With the ten of cups, I’m getting major wish-fulfillment vibes. When suitors see you they hear an angelic chime in their ear (I hear it right now) and music starts playing. DREAM GIRL. By the strictest definition too, you’re very dreamy and your allure is cloudy, people are afraid if they touch you, you’ll float away. You could have prominent Neptune placements. Do you like to sing? Harmoney and melodic sounds keep popping up. I'm thinking of Euterpe, the muse of music. ⇾ Your abundance leaks into your appearance (look for aspects to your ascendant, especially Neptune, Jupiter, and the Sun), you look very youthful and hydrated. It’s going to sound creepy but from a biological, primal-lizard brain perspective, you look fruitful and like you'd bear many blessings and children. Your skin is well hydrated and plump, your hair is strong and luscious, and you look overall very healthy.
"Be Not Afraid."
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ahhh that was so much fun! to those who resonated with a pile, thank you for giving me the pleasure of experiencing your energy and reading for you. if you liked it let me know :)
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eddiesghxst · 9 months
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no thoughts just loser!eddie losing his shit when he sees you over at his house for the first time, rifling through his things like any normal friend does.. but you stumble upon a box.under his bed. it’s like slow motion when he walks into his room and sees you open the lid and he nearly drops a glass of water, literally biting his fist in pain, trying to stop you but then you’d only get more curious of what he was hiding.
you. he has polaroids of you except they’re the dirty cum covered kinds. he has your underwear with his stains in it. he has your perfume bottles, your rings (he would totally get hard seeing how tiny they are compared to his, and imagining the dainty stones on the rings on your ring finger like an engagement stone)
it’s like a fucking shrine for you and he thinks he’s gonna pass out as your eyes widen.
but you only turn to him and smile, and his knees weaken. literally almost fainting when you kiss him because you have definitely slept with his sweatshirts, came to the idea of eddie, etc. he’s just such a fucking loser but that night he makes you cum so much you see stars and he’ll have a scrapbooks worth of polaroids (just from that night alone lol)
anyways do you think you could write a lil something based loosely off that? 🫶
BESTIE I MIGHTVE DIED YES. YES YES YES.
also this ended up longer than I'd intended but who cares its pervy!loser!eddie
18+ — MINORS DNI
word count: 1k
————
Eddie’s not sure if he believes this is real. There’s no way this is real, right? There’s no way he has his best friend naked on his bed, covered in sweat and cum— his cum, at that.
He almost thinks it’s all another one of his sick, perverted dreams, but then he’s reminded that none of those dreams have felt this real. None of his dreams have felt this vivid to where he can actually feel the tremble in your hands as you wrap a fist around his wet cock, the shift of the bed as you clumsily scramble to your knees, the lewd and unmistakable shlick sound of your hand fisting his spent cock. It’s never been this vivid— that’s how he knows this isn’t a dream.
You’re blissed out and cock-drunk as you shuffle to lean on all fours, lowering your mouth to suckle on Eddie’s leaking tip. Your toes curl at the sound of Eddie groaning above you, a hand resting on the back of your head to shove himself further down your throat. “Take it all the way in, that’s it— fuck,” Your center throbs at his words, a wet gagging noise emitting from the back of your throat when Eddie’s tip meets the tight space. He curses with a groan, head dropping back for a moment before he looks back down at you with a lazy smirk.
“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you gag on my dick, sweetheart.”
You whine, your hips grinding back against nothing, the cool breeze of his room sending shivers up your spine when it graces the wet heat of your cunt. Around you, scattered on the bed, are the many polaroids you had just discovered earlier. Snapped photos of you in bed, in the shower, getting dressed in your room; all images that would’ve sent anyone else running for the hills. Eddie was so sure you would never speak to him again when you found that box full of all things you, but to his surprise (and sinful delight), you were just as fucked up as Eddie, if not more.
Eddie’s eyes dart all over the bed; polaroids, lace panties and matching bras, dainty jewelry, lipsticks, and perfume bottles. Eddie Munson was a perverted thief, and it somehow landed him balls deep down your throat. 
He reaches down and picks up a particular Polaroid, one of his favorites; a picture of you laid on your stomach in your bed, one leg hiked up to form a comfortable sleeping position. You’d forgone your sleeping shorts this night, and Eddie took it upon himself to jack off and cover your ass in sticky ropes of his cum, snapping a photo as the white substance dripped down between the folds of your ass to stain your pretty panties (Eddie stole those panties that same night).
He takes the picture and holds it up between two fingers. “So many nights of wasted cum… you’ve got a lot to make up for, sweet girl.” His voice is low and teasing, and you whine against him, nuzzling his cock further down your throat until your nose brushes against the curly hairs surrounding his base.
Eddie’s knuckles are tight against your scalp when he pulls you off his cock, shivering at the wet gasp you take, bleary eyes blinking up at him as your spit drips onto his thighs. “Think you’ve been good enough for it?” He wraps a hand around himself and rubs his throbbing tip against your lips, humming in approval when you open your mouth to offer your tongue. He slaps himself against your tongue a few times, chuckling when you whine and squeeze your thighs together. You can feel the sticky feeling of his cum and your arousal sliding against the insides of your hot thighs, and your eyes roll at the sensation. You lean forward and nuzzle against his cock, “Please, Eds— want it so bad. I’ve been so good, I have.” Your words are nearly slurred; the only thing on your mind is the overwhelming urge you have to feel Eddie’s cum in the back of your throat.
You don’t see Eddie reaching for his camera, too focused on licking your way down to his balls. “Fuck— look at me, sweetheart, give me those pretty eyes.”
You slowly blink up at Eddie, wet lashes fluttering and pouty lips grazing his cock as you gaze at the camera. A flash and a snapping sound echo through the room before a white card come out the bottom, a curse falling from Eddie’s lips as he shakes the paper and tosses it to the side for later. He nods down towards you, “Love on it, baby; show me how much you love my cock.” You don’t wait for another second, licking a thick stripe up his cock, rounding your lips around his tip to suck eagerly. Eddie takes another picture, and you whine.
“Shit, I’m gonna come— keep sucking baby, keep taking me in.”
You shuffle forward, nose brushing against his pelvis once again, and Eddie takes it as permission to secure a hand atop your head and begin fucking himself into the back of your throat. Both of your hands are fisted into the sheets below you, watery eyes gazing up at the blissed-out Eddie above you. His hips falter during the last few thrusts; he doesn’t last much longer. 
“I’m gonna come… don’t swallow, okay?” You nod as best as you can, and without further directions, Eddie’s cum floods your mouth until you nearly choke on it. 
He pulls out of your mouth with a moan, instructing you to open your mouth and show him your tongue, which you immediately obey. He reaches for the camera once more, snapping one picture with you on all fours, gazing up at the camera with your tongue out, white sticky cum coating the inside of your mouth. He takes a second picture, this time with his hand cradling your jaw. The third and last picture he takes is with his hand still cradling your jaw, but his thumb is now pressed against your tongue, smearing his sticky mess across your tastebuds.
And when he tosses the newly printed photos into the pile of new Polaroids, he catches a glimpse of one clear picture of your pussy freshly fucked and covered in his cum. Eddie can’t help it when his cock twitches against his thigh once again.
It’s safe to say that Eddie had to get a new box the next day <3
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Note
We need Dilf!Muzan headcannons now since you plotted that image in my head
Hehehe (ノ∀`♥) Of course! I love a DILF, especially dilf!Muzan~
And he lives in my head rent free! So i'm glad it's gotten into someone else's head or else i'd have burst!
Here's a little something with some DILF Muzan awhile back which was just me bouncing idea's around ( ̄∀ ̄.) - HERE
Also I'm more than happy to write this as a oneshot or mini series of something (@^▽^@.) cause the mental image is vivid on my brain and has me in a chokehold....
But anyway!
Dilf! Muzan Kibutsuji Headcanons:
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Dilf!Muzan who accidentally bumps into you when shopping with his son and daughter, browsing the toy section with his kids babbling away in the trolley
Who's eyes shine as he talks to his kids, pointing gently to different toys and teddy bears and giving soft praise when they've picked without fuss - a mech that lights up and a helicopter with shootable missiles
All tall and broad
All pretty eyed with long black eyelashes
Sculptured brows and chiseled features
Dressed casually but still oozing with a certain charisma -
Black t-shirt hugging his form perfectly with grey tracky bottoms that sit tantalizing on his hips - throat becoming dry at the sight
His trolley knocks into yours and your heart skips a beat at his smooth silk voice apologizing for the brief moment of havoc
Who's hand is warm and larger than yours as he offers a handshake, nails as perfect as the rest of him
Taking in the feint blush across your cheeks and the stuttering breathe you take before introducing yourself
"And these two?" you ask with a soft grin "Who are these cuties?"
DILF! Muzan, who grins with a boyish charm, showing off canine and a set of dimples that make your heart stop
"These are my pride and joy," He says with a beaming smile "My daughter Chiyo and my son Kaito"
Chiyo (meaning 'a thousand generations') who's hair sits in beautiful inky waves down her back with eyes of soft pink, a gaze of childish wonder at the bright lights of the shop and shelves
Kaito (meaning 'Soaring over the ocean') with eyes of clear ruby and short wavy hair of ivory who blinks at you with a curiosity
You can't help but coo at them - "Aren't you adorable!" before turning to look at muzan with a smile
"You and your partner must be so proud of these two! I know I would be!" + "Ah, I'm single"
Que a silence that makes you want to die on the spot... Before your saved by his soft smile - "it's okay, it happens all the time"
You insist on making it up to him
Afterwards, each week you both meet each other - sometimes by accident sometimes on purpose - in the shop, following each other around and talking before parting ways after paying
Until one day he offers you a piece of paper, his gaze averted with a feint blush - "It's my number...." He murmurs "I thought we could go for coffee next week if your free"
A false bravado slipping onto his face as he turns to look you in the eyes, voice raising into a question "Thats if....if your alright with going out with dad of two?"
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coralinnii · 6 months
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I have a request for the villainess AU. For Ace and Deuce, what if it was a love triangle between the MC? I just can’t imagine them being separated because them fighting over the Mc is much funnier!
❋ Being Reincarnated into a New World as the Bad Guy ❋
↳ Love Triangle scenario(?)
feat: Ace and Deuce
genre: humour, budding romance, friends-to-something more?
note: part of the “Reincarnated into a New World as the Bad Guy” series or the Villain/ess au, part of the 2.7k followers event, references to other villain/ess au works (specifically Riddle ver.), Ace + Deuce + reader are old enough to drink, no pronouns used with reader, minor mention of death
I don’t usually do the love triangle trope because real life ones hurt alot and it brings up some bad memories, but I’ll consider it for this, just for y’all~ I genuinely tried but rather than a love triangle, I may have accidentally created a… (seriously was not my intention)
Villain/ess au Series Masterlist
2.7K Followers Writing Event
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Before the oath of the sword, the three of you made an oath of your own. One of unquestioned trust and camaraderie. No matter where the string of fate would take either of you, the promise made one drunken night between you, Ace, and Deuce was stronger.
That night was fuelled with unrestrained emotions, with shouting and tears, most coming from you. Especially when you awoke one day with strange visions flooded your dreams, vivid images that spoke of a horrible future for you.
Memories of a strange novel, one that eerily resembles your current world down to each royal family member and even your friends’ lives. But while a hero’s glory awaits your dearest ones, you were left as a tragic minor antagonist.
A mere childhood friend of Ace and Deuce, you became jealous of a former baron’s daughter suddenly turned Queen when she grew close to your friends as her knight escorts. You turned to petty acts in response, spewing nasty rumours among the townfolks of the new Queen but like an angelic protagonist, she revealed your misdeeds but forgave you for your childish taunts. Nevertheless, you lost the respect of your only friends and you were left behind.
But despite the Queen’s pardon, King Riddle heard of your disgraceful behaviour against his beloved and called for your immediate execution, which became the final push for Ace and Deuce to join in the Queen’s rebellion against her own tyrannical husband. Because that’s all you were, a mere catalyst for the story to continue on.
You couldn’t imagine yourself turning into a cliche bully and admittedly, the idea of your untimely demise left you shaking in fear on occasion. But the worst of your premonitory dreams was the predicted end of your friendship.
The looks of disgust and disappointment that painted Ace’s and Deuce’s face seared into your mind, your heart shattering like glass at their wishes to never see you again. The fear of abandonment stings you like a crack in your heart which never healed, it scared you to the point that the moment you saw them happily enjoying the night, you drunkenly cried out.
“I love you so much, please don’t leave me.”
Unceremoniously, your body slumped onto the tavern’s table as you blacked out into an alcoholic slumber. How evil of you, conveniently unable to explain what you meant by your slurred confession, or to whom you were referring to.
Ace and Deuce were visibly distracted during their knight training the morning after, one of the few times that they must separate from you. Your words looping over and over in their heads like an endless echo. Your voice pleaded so sincerely with tears cascading down your cheeks.
“What should we do, Ace?” Deuce broke the awkward silence during their water break, finally taking a step to mention the elephant in the room. Your words that resembled a wistful confession struck him with worry (and a hint of budding hope). But unlike him, Ace was quick to look for possible excuses for your actions.
“Don’t be dumb. It was probably just the alcohol talking. Don’t you remember how much we all drank?” The reddish hue of Ace’s cheeks however betrayed his true emotions. In truth, he was just as frazzled by your words as Deuce was. He kept trying to convince himself that you meant nothing by it, to not get his hopes up. But the little devil on his shoulder whispers in his ear, “but what if you did mean something by it?”
Since then, you felt that your time spent with the duo increased since your last outing. Instead of staying back in the knight’s barracks right after training, Ace and Deuce visited your hometown more often that was not the most convenient travel destination. You felt at least one pair of eyes, either sea blue or rose red or both, watching you before turning away when you tried to catch their gaze.
But it seems that some people did noticed something different with the two young men, specifically their family. Deuce’s mother would smile knowingly at you whenever you drop by to offer some assistance in her business, occasionally mentioning how much her son has grown. Funnily enough, Ace’s older brother mentioned something similar about the redhead, though it was more laced with a teasing tone than one of filial affection.
But you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. You enjoyed the frequent visits of your best friends, especially knowing they will be even busier when the announcement of a new royal member would take your precious moments with them. Rumours were spread about the town of a mysterious figure locked in a tower which were not part of your memories, but your wary heart kept you mindful of the possible news regarding the imperial family.
Your worries intensified when Ace and Deuce announced their new task once dawn breaks, they were to escort the newest addition to the royal family back to the palace. In an attempt to quell your unease, you made an embarrassing request.
“You want to do what?” A bright red hue on Deuce’s face heavily contrasted with his raven blue hair, but you were no position to tease him as you could assume that your embarrassed complexion was no better. “Y-You mean…you…and us…”
The three of you lost track of time chatting and goofing off in your quarters and didn’t realize how the sun has long gone to rest for the night. Instead of returning to their own home, you asked if the two knights were willing to stay over the night, like in your younger days. Back when you three were more used to wooden swords than ones of steel, when your only worry was if your parents were going to cook your favourites that night.
Back when you three shared the same bed together.
“It’s not that crazy of a request…” you pouted but you supposed it was rather absurd to ask your friends, who old enough to be considered men, something so childish. Perhaps those carefree days are truly long gone.
“I’m not opposed to it” Ace gave his signature cheeky smile as he naturally wrapped his arm around your shoulder, slightly leaning his weight onto you. “If you just can’t help but miss our company, we can have a good ol’ slumber party. Just like old times~”
You’re starting to reconsider your request.
But Ace wasn’t done. “Well, it’s not exactly like old times. We’re definitely bigger than back when we were kids”
The redhead was obviously right. The three of you were nothing like the tiny versions of you in the past, and your best friends have certainly bulked up since they started their journey into knighthood. You tried your best but you couldn’t help but gaze in appreciation of the hard work the two of them did to build the stamina and muscles to protect their kingdom, respectfully of course.
“I doubt that all three of us can fit on your teeny little bed.” the scarlet-eyed knight exaggerated his point by squinting his fingers to describe your bed. “I guess Deucey’s just gonna have to go home for tonight.”
“Hey, wait a minute! Why me?!” Deuce snapped out from his flustered daze to glare at Ace, pulling his shaggy-haired companion by the neck of his shirt. “Who are you to tell me what to do?”
Ace remained unperturbed, too used to the blunette’s burst of anger “It’s nothing personal, buddy. But you grind your teeth real loud at night. How is any of us gonna get any sleep?”
“Well you’re a pain to wake up in the morning!” Deuce angrily countered. “Don’t make it our problem to get your ass up tomorrow.”
You watched your best friends bicker and argue, as if you didn’t already know of their terrible sleeping habits. Sure, Deuce grinds his teeth but you always tried to gently soothe his jaw hoping to relax him. Ace may sleep like the dead but his cute little pout every time he finally wakes up makes the effort all worth it to you.
They were idiots, but they were your idiots.
“Will you both stop fighting already?” Ace and Deuce immediately paused as your voice caught their attention, like it always does. “No one’s gotta leave. My bed is not that small, you know?”
To prove your point, you took each of the boy’s hand and led them without issue. For someone as tall and built as them, they were so easy to pull and push as you please. Carefully, you pressed your hands against their chest to push them backwards onto your bed. You then crawled onto the bed yourself between Ace and Deuce, the men automatically shifting their bodies to make space for you.
Satisfied, you laid onto your back and you took the hand of both men, each of your hand snuggly holding their warm, calloused ones. You smiled brightly at the fuzzy feelings of nostalgia bubbling in you, pressing your joining hands to your chest, atop of your beating heart.
“See, no one needs to leave.” your bright eyes looked up to your favourite people, cheeky joy evident in your gaze.
A rare occurrence, the two chatty troublemakers were left speechless. In their defence, they were too busy trying to contain the burst of happiness in their hearts to reply back to you, barely pushing the redness of their cheeks at bay.
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thetriumphantpanda · 6 months
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i work from nine to five; hey hell, i pay the price | Marcus Pike
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Summary | You use the office halloween party as a way to prove you can push yourself out of your comfort zone. You didn't expect that to mean that the apple of your eye, Marcus Pike, would take an interest in you.
Pairing | Marcus Pike x Plus Size F!Reader
Word Count | 4.4K
Warnings | Explicit smut, workplace 'romance', negative talk about bodies, body issues, plus size reader, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PiV sex, dirty talk, mention of food and alcohol, halloween vibes, costumes, pet names, but nothing else.
Authors Note | I told myself I wasn't going to do halloween writing, and then I had a very vivid image of Marcus Pike bending me over his desk at a work party.... So I did some halloween writing. As a woman who lives life in a bigger body, this one goes out to everyone else who has felt the way reader has felt. These are MY OWN experiences, attitudes I've had given to me, and given to myself, they aren't universal, we all feel differently about ourselves, but if you've ever been made to feel less than because of the way you look, just know I see you and that Marcus Pike would absolutely take you apart regardless of how thick your thighs are. If you liked this, please consider supporting me through my Ko-Fi.
Divider by @saradika
Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi
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You tug at your skirt a little, trying to pull it down over your thighs. It seemed like a good idea at the time, to choose something skimpy for the office Halloween party. A way to challenge yourself, finally start to work through the years of bullying at school, and the off-hand comments from your almond-mom who had always told you things like, ‘you could stand to lose a few pounds’, or ‘surely a salad would be a better idea?’. 
It had been such a relief when you’d gotten this job two years ago, finally earning enough on an FBI salary to move out of your family home and into your own space. A space where you weren’t judged for how many fries you had on your plate, or how the pair of trousers you’d chosen to wear made your belly look. It had been good for you, and ever since, you’d been trying your best to challenge yourself to do things you never thought you’d ever have the confidence to do. 
Things like standing in the office, in a pair of fishnet tights, with a skirt so short that if you bent over, Dave from Finance would get a complete eyeful. Looking around though, you couldn’t help feel like it had been a terrible idea. Amy from HR looked absolutely phenomenal in her devil outfit – a red bodycon dress that looked like it had been painted on, showing not a single imperfection on her body – and Jessica, who worked reception, in a Catwoman jumpsuit that hugged her figure perfectly. You don’t think it would ever go away, the comparing yourself to everyone else, even though you knew that Amy and Jessica would totally have their own insecurities about things. 
You were trying to make yourself at small as possible, crowding yourself into the corner of the room, hand clutched around a plastic cup full of ‘spooky punch’, that Hannah, the office manager had put together, which comprised of mostly vodka, some orange juice and what looked like a whole bottle of green food coloring, with some eyeball candy floating around in it. She’d put together a Halloween playlist, which was currently blasting The Monster Mash at a decibel you think should be illegal, and everyone had contributed to her spooky buffet, which was just normal food cut into shapes – like your addition of frozen pizza that you’d cut out with a ghost-shaped cookie cutter. You know you should go and mingle. Adam, on your team has already tried twice to get you to join their little group, so you relent, and walk over, giving everyone a warm smile. It’s all going well, until Alison, nods her head in your direction and stats speaking. 
“Did you work late?” She asks, to which you shake your head. 
“No, why?” 
“Oh,” She grimaces, “I just didn’t think you’d dressed up, is all.” 
And you know it’s mainly because she’s oblivious to mostly everything, but it smarts. Sure, the orange turtleneck is something you’d worn to work before, as are the black platform heels, but the skirt that ghosts the bottom of your ass and the fishnet tights that are still probably one size too small are not something you usually wear, nor are the fake glasses, with thick black frames, or the fucking magnifying glass you’re clutching. You sigh, make your excuses and walk over to the buffet table, picking up one of the slices of pizza you’d brought. Once you’ve eaten that, you reach for one of the cupcakes at the back of the table. It’s iced like a pumpkin and the cake looks to be chocolate, which is your favourite. You’re peeling off the wrapper and about to take a bite when someone interrupts you. 
“They’re delicious.” 
You’d recognize that voice anywhere. Marcus Pike. Head of Department. Not your boss, but your boss’ boss, and the most beautiful man you think you’d ever laid eyes on. You’d sat in on meetings that he chaired, supposed to be taking notes but instead focused entirely on him and how he commanded the room. The way he talked with his hands, and how much you wish you could have him run those over your thighs. Or the way he would chew on his bottom lip when he was concentrating, wondering whether he’d like it if you did that if he were to ever kiss you. 
“Oh.” You exhale softly, suddenly uber aware of the fact he’s probably just watched you eat the ghost-shaped pizza, and now, not a minute later, getting ready to bite into the cupcake, you go to set it down on the table, but he stops you, hand gently holding onto your wrist. 
“Please,” He says softly, “I made them, so I need the ego boost.” 
You smile a little, finally meeting his eyes, “You just said they were delicious, what do you need my opinion for?” 
“I remember the raspberry muffins you made last week,” He smirks a little, “And the apple turnovers the week before those, and everything else you bring in, I need to know what the office star baker thinks about my effort.” 
You’re going to refuse, say you’re already full, despite the pizza being the first thing you’d eaten that evening, that you’ll take it home with you and report back on Monday, but his beautiful brown eyes are soft, almost pleading, so you sigh, peel the rest of the wrapper off and take a bite. It’s actually delicious. He’s put some kind of orange flavouring in the icing, and the cake itself is really good. 
“You were right,” You smile, “It is delicious.”
He smiles, like he’s won a prize and it makes you feel a bit fuzzy inside, that this man next to you has been affected by your praise. 
“Great costume, by the way.” He compliments, and you don’t miss the way his eyes trail over your body. 
“You mean you don’t think I ran out of time and came in my office clothes?” You tease. 
“You’d wear that skirt to the office?” He’s smirking at you, and also offers you a wink, which has your hand dropping to the table, holding yourself up, why on earth was Marcus Pike flirting with you? “It’s good, Velma, right?” He motions to the magnifying glass abandoned on the table. 
You chuckle a little, “First prize, got it first time,” You then take a moment to take in his costume, he’s wearing a brown jacket over one of his usual shirts, a brown satchel is draped across his body and he’s got a hat on, but it’s the whip that really gives him away, “Indiana Jones?” You say quietly. 
“The one and only.” He smiles, opening his arms a little. 
You think it must be the amount of vodka that Hannah put in the punch, but even so, your next question shocks you, “Do I ask where you got the whip from?” 
He looks around dramatically, “Just checking Amy from HR is out of earshot,” Then he leans in a little closer, “It’s from my own personal collection.” 
You reach your hand out, letting your fingers run over the material where the handle is holstered in his pocket. It feels expensive, although it’s not like you have much experience with them to pass judgement on what’s expensive and what isn’t.
“Feels expensive,” You hum, “Guess that head of department salary has to get spent on something.” 
He reaches down and takes your hand in his gently, running soft circles over the skin on the back of your hand, “You really do look lovely tonight,” He speaks softly, “Enjoy the rest of the evening.” 
And then as quickly as he was stood in front of you, he’s gone. You let out a breath that you didn’t realise you’d been holding in, focusing on the way your chest is heaving and you can feel your pulse in your head. You pick up your plastic cup and down the liquid that’s left in the bottom, wincing at the strength of the vodka, then deciding you need a top up. 
You mill about for a little bit longer, but still feel like a bit of a spare part. You’ve shown your face, spoken to everyone you should have, and now there’s a glass of wine and a bubble bath with your name on it back home. You pick up your coat from the back of a random office chair, grab your bag from your own desk, and sneak out as quietly as you can. You’re halfway down the hall, almost to the elevator, when you hear a voice from behind you. 
“Running away?” 
You turn around, Marcus Pike is leaning against the doorframe to his office. He’s taken the satchel off, and the whip is no longer in his pocket. He’s crossed one ankle over the other, arms crossed over his chest. 
“Feeling a little like a spare part,” You shrug, “And there’s a glass of wine calling my name at home.” 
He nods in understanding, “You drink whiskey?” He asks. 
“If I have to.” You answer back. 
“Well, how about you stay and have one with me,” He offers, “Leave that wine for another day.” 
You shift awkwardly from foot to foot, because why on earth would Marcus Pike want to have a drink with you? It feels like someone somewhere is having a good old laugh at your expense, but you feel your feet leading you towards him, brushing past him and into his office. 
You’ve been in here a handful of times before, mainly to drop of reports and papers, and only once whilst he’s been there. It’s been a very professional relationship up until now, no flirting, nothing inappropriate. You drape your coat over the arm of the small couch he’s got there – you imagine he sleeps on it when he hasn’t got time to go home during crunch time of investigations.  Your bag sits on the floor next to it. 
He leaves the door open, giving you an out if you want it. He points to the couch, tells you to sit down, which you do, pulling once again at the tiny skirt, trying to cover the way the skin of your thighs bulge through the holes of the fishnet tights, ultimately failing, as Marcus reaches into one of the drawers of his desk, pulling out two crystal tumblers and a bottle of whiskey. He fills them both equally, handing one to you, but he doesn’t sit next to you, he just leans against the edge of his desk. 
“I always thought it was a myth,” You muse, “Agents with whiskey in their desks.” 
He smiles at you, “It’s in there for big wins,” He explains, “Cracking cases and that kind of stuff.” 
You nod your head, taking a small sip of your drink, wincing as it drags down your throat, “What’s tonight’s big win?” You ask, fluttering your eyelashes and then cringing a little at yourself. 
“You looking that sinful.” 
You’re taking a sip when he says it, so you end up spluttering quite unattractively at his words. Is he serious? You dab at the corners on your mouth, setting your glass down on the floor, “Sorry,” You mutter, “But are you for real?” 
He smirks, “As real as you and I.” 
He pushes himself off the desk, puts his drink down on it as he moves. He takes three wide strides until he’s stood in front of you. You look up from where you’re sat, hands folded in your lap. He reaches out, drags the fake glasses from your face, throws them absentmindedly onto the couch next to you. You’re breathing heavily as reaches out with one of his hands. The flat of his palm cupping your jaw, whilst his thumb traces along your bottom lip. 
“Do you want me to close the door?” He asks, voice lower than you’ve ever known it. 
You have no words, your tongue refusing to work, so you nod instead, because as much as you’re still thinking someone is going to come in and tell you you’re being pranked, you also want to know what he’s going to do next. He’s back to you in moments once he’s closed the door and turned the lock. The light above is harsh, but it’s needed, because the blinds are closed. 
He's standing in front of you again, this time both his palms are cupping your cheeks, and he’s leaning down, ever so slowly, until his lips are a hairs breath from yours. God, you want him to push the last few millimeters and kiss you, but he’s stopped. Waiting. And you don’t want to break first. You’ve done it before, gone to kiss someone, and then felt them laugh just before you can, because why would they want to? 
“You gonna kiss me, pretty lady?” 
“I want you to kiss me first.” You admit on a shaky breath. 
You’ve got your eyes closed, so you can’t read his eyes, look for the sense of regret in them, so it’s a shock when you feel his lips on yours. It’s so soft, barely there, before he’s pulling away, still close enough to feel his hot breath over your skin though. 
“There,” His thumbs are moving across the skin of your cheeks, “Now you.” 
So, you do. You reach your hand around to the back of his neck, pull him into you and really press your lips to his. His bottom lip slots between yours and you suck it gently into your mouth. You smile a little at the sound that comes from his throat, then he’s opening his mouth against yours and you’re following, doing exactly the same, letting his tongue behind your teeth as it melds with your own. His hands are dropping from your face, trailing down your shoulders. He leans forward into you a little, his hands under your arms to tug you up. 
You drag your mouth from him to stand up, his hands dropping to your hips to guide you behind his desk. There are nerves bubbling under your skin because you know what he wants as he pressed your ass into the wood. He wants you to sit on it. To be fair to the department, it’s a sturdy looking desk, but the thought of the way it’s going to creak under your weight makes you want to crawl into a hole. Marcus doesn’t push though, just brings his mouth back to yours, letting his hands wander a little, dragging them back up your body to palm your tits through the layers you’re wearing. 
“I think you did this on purpose,” He speaks against your mouth, “Like you knew this woman had always driven me wild.” 
You don’t mean to, but it makes you laugh, “Don’t tell me Velma from Scooby-Doo was your sexual awakening?” 
He laughs back, doesn’t confirm it, but doesn’t deny it either. He’s looking down your body, having pulled back a bit, “Fuck,” He mutters, “Every time I look at you, it gets better.” 
“The magic of a slutty Halloween costume.” You shrug. 
He nods his head, but speaks again, “It’s not just that though,” He’s speaking softly now, “I think you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, wandering around the office all the time, driving me mad.” 
This would normally be the time that you’d try and fight against the compliments being thrown your way. Tell them they must be lying, or joke that they need to get their eyes tested. But somehow, it doesn’t feel like you should do that here. There’s something about Marcus that makes you think he wouldn’t lie, wouldn’t string you along this far just to have a laugh at your expense, so you don’t do it, for the first time in your life. 
You reach up to his shirt, undo two of the buttons, “You know,” You hum, “I think exactly the same as you, with your whip or not.” 
He breathes out, taking hold of your wrists to stop your movements, “Let me make you feel good?” He asks. 
You meet his eyes, feeling heat rise across your face, but you nod anyway, because you’ve come this far, and you can already feel wetness pooling in your panties. He drags his hands down your body, grips your hips and forces you to sit on the edge of the desk, dropping to his knees in front of you. He’s looking you straight in the eyes, as he pushes the material of your skirt to gather at your waist. Your legs open further, and Marcus groans when your movement reveals the see-through black lace of your panties. It hadn’t felt right to dress as a sexy Velma and wear your normal underwear, is how you justify it. 
You’re expecting him to tell you to lift up so he can drag your tights off you, but instead, he hooks a finger through the material at your groin and fucking rips them apart. It makes you gasp. You’d chide him for ruining them, but at this point you don’t care. They were cheap, and if it means you’re going to have his mouth on you quicker, then you’re not going to complain. 
Marcus leans forwards, you can feel the heat of his breath splaying across the lace material, and then he drags his tongue across the length of your folds over the lace of your panties. Even with the material barrier between your skin and his mouth, you’re tipping your head back in pleasure, letting out a breath as he repeats his movements, dragging his fingers just behind his tongue on his last pass of movements. It’s not enough. 
“Please, Marcus.” You beg quietly. 
“What do you want, pretty lady?” He asks, looking up at you with angelic eyes, as if he couldn’t possibly think what it is you want from him. 
“Your mouth.” 
“You already have it.” He points out, proving his point by licking another stripe up your panties. 
“Marcus,” You sigh, “Move the… fuck… move the damn material out of the way.” 
He lets out a huff of amusement, “See,” He says, doing exactly as you ask, hooking his fingers under the material and moving it to the side, “All you had to do was ask.” 
He doesn’t waste any more time now. Letting his tongue dip between your slick folds, dragging the wetness that’s pooled at your entrance up to your clit, where he flicks softly with the tip of his tongue. You feel his thumbs spreading the lips of your cunt, baring you to him so he can really start to work you up. He presses the flat of his tongue to your clit, working it gently as your hand settles into the curls on his head, anchoring him there. He’s doing all the things you love, moving between wide stripes of the flat of his tongue, and quick flicks with the tip, until your hips are grinding against his face and you’re biting down onto your bottom lip to keep quiet. 
“You taste so fucking sweet, pretty lady,” He speaks against your skin, surprising you a little as he pushes not one, but two of his fingers into your soaked cunt, “Feel good?” 
“Oh God,” You breathe out as he hooks his fingers inside you, pressing against a spot you had no idea even existed inside of you, “Don’t stop… don’t fucking stop.” 
He doesn’t, the obedient man that he is. He starts dragging his fingers in and out of you, whilst his lips wrap around your clit, pulling it into his mouth, laving it with attention from his tongue, which sends you over the edge. 
Your thighs are clenching around his head as your body convulses. All you want is to cry out, call his name into the room, but even though you can hear the music from the party down here, anyone could be walking past, and it would be just your luck that it would be Amy from HR. His mouth is working you through those aftershocks as your thighs ease the pressure around his head. 
He's breathing as heavy as you are when he stands, slotting himself between your open legs. You can feel the hard length of him pressing against your silken center, as he dips his head to kiss you again, your taste intoxicating on his tongue. 
“Can I fuck you?” He asks, almost desperately, “You gonna let me?” 
“Please.” Is all you can get out, as he drags you off the desk, flipping you around so your front is pressed against the wood of the desk. 
He’s got his hand on the nape of your neck, pressing you down. You can hear him undoing his belt, dragging the zipper of his jeans down. You shuffle a little, widening your stance as he takes his place behind you. You can feel him dragging his cock through your folds, gathering the slick he’s pulled from you, before he’s plunging into you in one go. It takes everything you have not to scream. He’s big. Stretching you like no-one has before and it feels so fucking good. 
Marcus is still gripping the back of your neck as he starts moving, his other hand gripping the plush cheek of your ass, spreading you open even more as he slowly drags himself in and out of you. He’s going slowly, and you think that the way his breath is hitching in his throat means he’s struggling to keep his composure, so you decide to have a little fun. 
When he’s pulled almost all the way out of you, you turn your head as much as you can with his hand resting there, looking over your shoulder at him as you wiggle your ass, slowly backing into him, letting your cunt suck him right back into you again. 
“Baby, you can’t do that,” He pleads, his fingers digging into the skin of your ass, “Carry on like that and this will be over before it’s begun.” 
“Don’t care,” You mutter, “Harder, please.” 
He starts pounding into you now, the sound of his skin slapping against yours is obscene. You’re both trying as hard as possible to keep the moans and groans as quiet as possible, and you can’t help but wish he wants more, that he’ll take you home sometime, unwrap you and let you scream for him, but you decide to focus on the here and now. 
“Touch yourself.” You hear demanded from behind you, “I want to feel you come on my cock.” 
You snake your hand underneath you, pushing the discomfort of how your arm is trapped between your body and the desk, and start tracing quick circles over your clit. You’re already sensitive, hanging on the edge from his mouth, so you press harder, move your wrist faster. 
“Feel so fucking good, baby,” Marcus groans behind you, “Close, ain’tcha?” He asks, “Go on baby, let go for me, let me feel you.” 
And it’s his voice that does it, that finally tips you over the edge, has your cunt clenching around him, walls fluttering and teeth biting into your bottom lip as your knees give way. Thankfully, Marcus is gripping at your hips, which helps to keep you upright. 
“Where, baby?” He asks, voice strained, and you don’t catch what he means, “Quick baby, where do you want me?” 
“Anywhere.” You groan out, “I don’t care Marcus, just come for me.” 
You think for a moment he might stay inside you, which would be fine, you thank the implant under the skin of your arm, but at the last minute he’s pulling out of you, feeling the hot slick of his cum on the skin of your ass as he lets out a low groan out of his mouth. He’s breathing heavily behind you, pulling his jeans back up. You try and move, to push yourself up, but you’re worried if you move further you might collapse. 
“Stay there.” He says gently, leaning over you to pluck a few tissues from the box on his desk, gently wiping away the mess he’s caused, pulling your panties back into place and letting your skirt cover as much of your ass as it can in your position. 
“You okay?” He asks softly, helping you to stand, tucking a bit of your hair behind your ear. 
You nod, because you are, you’ve never been fucked so thoroughly, never been made to come so hard in your life, but there’s an anxiety settling in your stomach. What always happens now is they’ll tell you they had a great time, but don’t think they want to see you again, which is going to be even more embarrassing because you have to work with this man. 
It's almost as if he can sense your anxiety, because he’s cupping your cheek again, leaning to give you a soft kiss on the lips, “Would you maybe want to go out sometime?” He asks, “I know we’ve done things out of order, but I’ve wanted to ask for a while.” 
You smile, because it does make you happy, that the man you’ve fancied for the best part of a year actually wants to take you out, “As long as you promise to take me back to yours after and let me see you naked?” 
He blows out air from his mouth, but his eyes are twinkling, “You drive a hard bargain,” He muses, “But you’ve got yourself a deal.” 
He’s moving from you now, over to the couch, picking up your coat and your back, motioning you over so he can help you into your jacket, hooking your bag onto your elbow, then moving to gather his own things, “Wait, right now?” You ask, sounding surprised, as he shrugs his jacket on. 
“I know a great diner just down the road.” He shrugs, picking up his satchel. 
He’s walking back to you, but you put a hand on his chest, “Aren’t you forgetting something?” You ask, watching a confused look fall over his face, you dart your eyes to his desk, where the whip from earlier is lying abandoned, “I’m only coming back to yours if you bring that.” 
You watch as a smirk splays across his lips. He snatches the whip from his desk, shoving it into the satchel, “Well, pretty lady, lead the way.” 
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oncloudten · 1 year
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you inhale deeply, lightly patting your wound with a washcloth. there really shouldn't be any reason for mindy's voice to be ringing over in your head "be careful with him." she'd told you before you left to go back to your boyfriend's dorm, seeing as your apartment had turned into a crime scene. the drive there had been in complete silence, save for ethan occasionally checking in on you. it's been silent between the two of you since you'd seen him, truthfully.
it's silly, really. to even think about it. especially considering the implications of what it would mean to you. to your relationship. shrugging off whatever ill-intended thoughts that swarm your mind, you glance towards your boyfriend. and yet you can't help the worry and suspicion that settles like a weight in your chest.
ethan must have noticed the way you're staring at him, because the next thing he says takes you by surprise. "why are you looking at me like that?" he asks quietly. "do you think i'm the killer, too?"
you can't prevent the underlying tone of worry in your voice when you finally muster up the courage to reply, you don't even know what you've said until you hear the sound of your own voice ringing back in your ears. "i don't know what to think," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "it's just- it's... you keep disappearing every time something happens. where were you, e? i needed you with me. and you weren't there. i was stabbed- i lost anika. my best friend died infront of me and you weren't there."
ethan's face is a mask of cold anger, though the softness you've been familiar to for the past year still glimmering in his eyes. "i told you angel, i was at econ. and i'm telling you again, i didn't do it. you have to believe me."
"after everything that's happened... after last year with sam- i'm just not sure what to think anymore. with everything that they're saying... i just-" you pause, cutting yourself off. this isn't even a conversation you want to be having right now.
a long beat passes before ethan speaks up. "they? who is they? mindy? anika? tara? i'm so tired of being accused of being the killer. what's to say those bitches aren't the killers themselves? huh?" although he keeps his composure, his tone is laced with venom. you've never heard him talk like this before.
"i just feel like i don't even know who you are anymore." you whisper, letting go of what you had held back from saying a moment before.
"that's a shame," he says, leaning in closer to you. his tone completely different, it's as if something had shifted in him within a few seconds. "because i feel like i know you better than anyone. in fact, i know everything about you. your fears, your desires, your weaknesses...all of it."
"that's...unsettling," you say, pulling away from him.
"oh, come on," a grin spreads over his face, his tone dripping with implication. "don't tell me you don't find it a little bit exciting. the idea that someone knows you so intimately, someone who's willing to do anything to be with you..." he trails off, his eyes darkening. "it's kind of romantic, don't you think?"
"no, it's not," you say, voice shaking. "it's sick. i don't like the way you're talking to me, ethan. you're scaring me."
"am i?" ethan says in a low scoff, barely audible. "you should be scared, sweetheart. you have no idea what i'm capable of."
you can barely register what he's saying. is this some sick twisted game to him? is he being his usual sarcastic self? surely not- not after what you just went through. your mind is drowning in endless vivid images of your boyfriend brutally murdering innocent people, your friends, your loved ones. this is the man who you've spent every sleepless night with for a year now, the man who you've devoted yourself to in every way possible, and in his own words, a man who knows you so intimately- in ways which you don't even know yourself. "what are you going to do?"
"nothing, as long as you behave." a twisted smile spreads across his face as he eyes your wound, his voice so low. "though that says otherwise, hmm?" he laughs. he actually laughs. "believe me, i never meant for it to happen, princess. but you just had to try and protect anika, and i thought you were mindy- god how i wish it had been that bitch. though i figure she got her warning."
you can't speak. it's as if every fiber of your being has shut down. ethan reaches out to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, and you let him. you know you should be screaming, shoving him away, running even. but you don't do any of those things. instead, you stare at your boyfriend as he towers over you, accepting the fact that any second now he'd make a move to hurt you. but ethan let's out a soft chuckle when he takes in the expression plastered over your face. "oh my sweet dumb thing. i love you, remember? i'd never hurt you. don't worry, baby. i'd sooner die before i let anything happen to you ever again."
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babybluebex · 7 months
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Popular, a cheerleader, first time senior and Chrissy’s best friend. But she has a secret that only her best friend knows. She’s had a crush on Eddie Munson since middle school. She’s afraid to tell him, thinking there’s no way he’d be into her. Until one day in the cafeteria, Jason Carver calls Eddie a freak. She confronts him, and punches him in the face, breaking or spraining her hand/wrist. Guess her little secret is out, and she may never be popular again.
ok i have a vivid image in my head and let's see if i can translate it hehe
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You tapped the toe of your pristine white sneaker on the linoleum, waiting. Just waiting. Principal Higgins was still talking to Jason, trying to get his side of the story, and you knew that he would certainly listen to Jason over you. You had basically broken Jason's nose, the star of Hawkins High— you didn't feel as if many people would be on your side.
But then, someone appeared in the doorway. You scoffed; "Save it, Munson."
"Easy," Eddie said carefully. He looked a little disheveled, definitely your fault. After you had punched Jason, the lunchroom had basically exploded, and Eddie had hauled you away from Jason with strong arms around your waist. You could remember him saying something about "He's not worth it", but your adrenaline was still running then, and you could hardly remember the moment. "Just making sure you're okay."
You grimaced, looking down to where you were nursing your wrist against your chest. It throbbed like crazy and hurt like nothing else; it hurt worse than that time when your basket didn't catch you after a toss and you went careening towards the floor. You were sure that your wrist was sprained, maybe even worse, and you let fat tears slide down your nose. There goes your senior year cheer season.
"Aw, jeez," Eddie mumbled. "It hurts that bad? I'm sorry, I-I feel like a piece of shit—"
"It's not that," you whimpered, wiping up your tears. "I'm upset because I won't be able to cheer with my wrist like this. I can't throw any tricks, I can't even be on the bottom of the pyramid. I'll have to sit out the entire season!"
Eddie carefully sat down next to you, the leather of his own pristine white sneakers squeaking as he flexed his foot. "Even though you didn't need to," he started. "Thank you for defending me. It means a lot that someone would stand up for me, especially you."
"What does that mean?" you asked.
"Well," Eddie started. "If Jason is the king of Hawkins, and Chrissy is the queen, you're as good as the princess. And the princess of Hawkins standing up against the king to defend some stupid bard, that takes some guts."
You shrugged. "I've watched Jason and those guys tease you since we were freshman," you mumbled. "I just got sick and tired of it. Pick on somebody your own size, y'know?"
"That's noble," Eddie said. "But... I feel like you aren't being truthful with me."
"Huh?" you asked, wrinkling your nose. "How?"
"Well, you remember last year, how we had algebra together?" Eddie asked. "You were placed in the senior-level class, and I was there because I failed it the first time, and I sat behind you. Well, umm... You kinda helped me pass that class, but that's irrelevant, I guess... But I—"
"I knew it!" you exclaimed with a smile. "You cheated off of me!"
"Cheated is a strong word," Eddie said. "I looked at your paper to get an idea of what I was supposed to do. But whatever, doesn't matter, I was looking at your notes one day in class and I saw that you were doodling something, and it was me. And it was perfect, you didn't look back at me once and you had perfectly drawn me."
"So?" you asked. "You're kinda hard to forget."
Eddie looked at you pointedly through his eyelashes, and he sighed. "So, I guess it doesn't matter that I've written songs about you," he said, and your heart jumped in your chest. Had he? What sorta songs? "That I think about you all the time? That, when I was pulling you away from Jason, I almost kissed you?"
You didn't want to hide it anymore. You knew that Chrissy would think you were crazy for liking Eddie— she had told you so, back in freshman year. During a sleepover, she had gotten you to admit your crush on the then-junior Eddie, and she had laughed and said, "Him? He's so weird!" But it didn't matter to you anymore. You liked Eddie, and, after the scene in the lunchroom, you didn't care who knew.
"What kind of songs?" you asked, edging closer to Eddie on the wooden bench.
"Sappy shit," Eddie said. "Not like Motley Crue 'sex and girls' stuff, but good love songs. You ever heard Babe by Styx?" You shook your head, and Eddie tilted his head. "I have the cassette at home, I can bring it to you tomorrow."
"Can you sing it to me?" you asked.
"Now?" Eddie gasped. "Jesus, sweetheart, you're gonna kill me, there are people around!"
"I'm sure you're not that bad of a singer," you rolled your eyes.
Eddie looked around at the small room. There was nobody else there, just a waiting room for Principal Higgins's office, but people were bustling in the hallway outside the room. "I'm not great," Eddie mumbled, reaching over and twisting his fingers nervously in your skirt. "Maybe can I... Um, bring you to my place after school? I can show you the song, and-and play you some that I've written."
"I'd like that," you grinned, and, as the door to the office opened, you leaned over and kissed Eddie's cheek. He immediately went beet red, and his hand drifted up to lovingly touch where your lips had been as he watched you stand and enter the office. "See ya then, Eddie!"
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loviingpedri · 3 months
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feliz navidad - jude bellingham
prompt: jude’s first christmas tree in madrid
warnings: grammar issues, cheesy lines
credits to owners for all images
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“jude! look at all these ornaments i got.”
“they’re really pretty. remind me, what is the theme for the tree again?” he picked up the green ornament with the unique carvings of it.
“traditional christmas of course. classic colors like green and red. it’s gonna look beautiful.”
“beautiful like you?” he winked at you while you grinned from his flirty comment.
“anyways! are you ready to start decorating?” he nodded his head as he opened the box of lights. he began to put the lights on as you tried to find hooks for the ornaments.
“do you think we should do fake presents again. i mean, it looked pretty last year.”
“do whatever it takes to make it your dream christmas tree. the least i can do is help you. take this as my appreciation for your sacrifices in moving here with me.” the lights were blinking at you as he finished his sentence.
“you always say that. can’t leave the love of my life in a foreign place alone.”
“aren’t i special then?”
“don’t let your ego get to you jude.” finding the hooks for the ornaments, it was finally time for your favorite tradition. decorating with jude.
grabbing a sparkly green ornament, it was already matching with the lights. soon, dozens of red and green were everywhere.
“jude! did you put these green ornaments together?” he was just happy to help. you appreciated everything he did, but sometimes it didn’t quite match your ideas.
“yeah? what about it?” he grabbed another red ornament as the tree started to become overwhelming.
“they aren’t suppose to be next to each other. it’s a contrasting kind of idea, you know?” he just nodded, but he didn’t understand the point of it. another rule added to the list, don’t put the same kind of ornament together.
the tree came together perfectly. especially with the ribbons and lights. the only challenging part next was the star. you attempted to put it on there yourself, but it was no use.
“having trouble?” as you finally stopped stretching your arm, you couldn’t deny it.
“yeah i am. do you have a ladder or anything?” now, the jude bellingham started laughing in your face. usually, you would be offended but it was definitely more confusion. “what are you laughing at?” giving him a sassy pose, his smile became vivid.
“the only thing i should be smiling at. why get a ladder when you have me?” jude really thinks he’s the smartest man out here.
“what?”
“oh come on. i’m strong enough to hold you.”
“jude, what are you on about?”
“get on my shoulders of course. you’ll be tall enough to put the star on.”
pure shock was seen in your face. “are you serious? i mean you could seriously get hurt.”
“don’t you trust me?” he crept down slowly and told you to just get on. after awkward movement, you felt your stomach drop as he stood up. everything was much clearer in this view.
“this is absolutely crazy.”
“don’t fall, please.” as you got closer to the tree, the star was shining bright on your face. jude walked to the couch to playfully yet gently throw you off. a lot of giggles and cuddles were shared as you admired your new masterpiece.
“it’s so bright.”
“yeah, just like you.” he gave you a kiss on your forehead as you got comfortable under the blanket right next to him.
——————————————
author’s note: happy holidays to those who celebrate! it’s crazy how this has been in my draft since november and it finally came together. wishing you all happiness!
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copperbadge · 1 year
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Okay so wait a minute, with this aphantasia thing. I don’t think I have aphantasia because I process audio fine, in fact I prefer not to have any visual, but apparently there is some relationship between it and ADHD. I’m not trying to be confrontational in any of this but I’m bewildered by the idea of mentally picturing things you listen to or read about. It’s bothered me since I posted the ask. 
I can picture things in my head, if I stop and make a conscious decision to build them, but if I’m doing that I can’t do anything else -- I can’t listen to a podcast and picture it in my head and also do something with my hands. Come to think of it I probably couldn’t even keep up with the podcast if I was trying to picture it in my head, I’d struggle to choose which things to imagine and by the time I got them built they’d have moved on. It never feels like a very useful thing to do, because I’ve already got the words, that’s the important part, and I’d rather be doing stuff. I just assumed that most of the time when people talk about picturing stuff they’re either doing it very deliberately, like a guided meditation, or they’re being poetic, like people don’t actually do that, we just say we do as a way of describing someone thinking about something.
So, I’m listening to a podcast in which the host reads a letter from Napoleon Bonaparte to his brother, discussing his brother’s relationship with his wife (“she’s still young, let her dance if she wants, don’t lock her up with the kids all day.”) If you see images in your head when you hear audio, are you seeing the host reading off a sheet of paper, or Napoleon writing the letter, or Napoleon talking to his brother, or are you seeing Napoleon’s brother being mean to his wife? If you don’t know what any of these people look like, do you just make something up? 
Jesus Christ, when people read erotica do they picture the sex happening? What’s that like? You just get porn in your head involuntarily? I mean, not involuntarily, you’re choosing to read the text, but it just shows up when you do? 
Writers, when you write do you get mental images as you go? I often will pause in writing to build a mental image in my head and then describe it but as soon as I do it disappears, and it’s mostly a waste of time so I really only do that when I need to describe a space that people are moving around in (like the fishing lodge with the kitchen bar dividing the living room and kitchen, I do have several mental “camera snaps” of that setup, but I don’t picture it when I’m writing about it). 
This might explain why I always get yelled at for not describing people in my books. It’s simply unimportant to me 99% of the time and awkward to try and insert it the other 1%. I don’t picture people in my head when I read -- they’re a personality, a collection of characteristics. My characters don’t have faces to me, like how people in dreams don’t have faces, you just know who they are. I describe them but that’s just words I really like, or I pick out people who already exist and just say “oh they look like that”. Obviously when someone wants a description I do my best to supply it, but in prose it’s just not important. 
This is genuinely blowing my mind. This is why people always want descriptions of things! They get to see the descriptions! Reading a book must be like going to an art gallery anytime you want without moving. Is that what it’s like? Is this super common, like am I the weird one, or is this just like for people with super vivid imaginations? 
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skinnypaleangryperson · 2 months
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My heart is broken over this gray world and this life dedicated to slavery by selfish people who are just playing sheep differently taking control of me and paying me so little that I can't even have a decent personal life to make up for crushed creative dreams. I hurt myself with my own imagination and how vivid it is, the TV shows that I would have liked to work on an extended with my passion and ideas, the artistry the lights, the emotion the storytelling, the storyboards and the artistic lighting that I work on every day simply because it's all that makes sense to me. These images, thoughts, storytelling, emotions, everything where I pour all of my desperation of what I wish the humanity and connection that my life would have into a couple of iPad drawings every day in the corner of an empty bedroom.
It comes across as melodramatic posting about it online, but if you were to live a day in my life with having nothing except for my raw isolated imagination in such a repetitive, soulless, compassionless gray world, where I have no connection to anyone anymore, and no one that I can share anything with and convinced I will never have a true friendship or relationship with anyone outside of baseline tolerance at best again, on top of failed motherhood and a failed creative career, you would be crying out on the internet every second you got the chance to. I haven't wanted to live this life for the longest time that I could remember, and I will never want to again. In a sense, thank God nobody cares and that I can just post about it at whatever whim that I want throughout the miserable day, because this is the only place left where I can still feel somewhat human, and where I can just be as unashamedly detailed about every single depressed and morbidly despairing thought, share some of my work, even if it's only to myself just to prove that it even exists outside of my own sick corner of the world, and generally to feel seen for a little while, Even if only by myself, which is what me and the majority of people in working class America have, with no way out, because we're not "special", And if you have an artistic vision it will break your heart more than anything else.
I especially love this scene that I came up with it during my on maladaptive daydreaming lately with my family with BoJack and Samantha and Harper. The storylines that I come up with his family and with our girls are always incredibly vivid every single day and they both still simultaneously break my heart, because I know that the vision that I share in the passion that I have and my want to share in storytelling will only ever be an ongoing sickly headspace in the back of my head while the gray reality of a life that has long since over if it ever began goes on around me without change. The beauty of the family life that I wanted to have on top of the creative dreams that I have that has projected itself into the muddled mental disorder of maladaptive daydreaming of my beautiful family with Bojack both is the only thing that keeps me going throughout the empty slave hours of my life, which is so lonely that most people I'm convinced would not be able to live it, well at the same time fills me with such a beauty and meaning taking it in that I couldn't ever let it go.
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celtic-crossbow · 4 months
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Blood Ties Chapter 4
Series Masterlist
Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore, canonical character death, sexual themes/situations, masturbation
A/N: The series will heavily follow the timeline and events of the show but there will be additional non-canonical events/injuries/etc.
*Click here to be added to taglists.
Moodboard by @dannyo000 💙
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You sat quietly in the passenger seat of Daryl’s truck after the caravan had stopped for a problem with the RV. There had been introductions after you had gathered your bearings during the last stop, and your trauma-addled brain was working overtime to retain the information. 
Along with the RV’s issues, the group was currently saying goodbye to one of their own. It seemed too intimate an affair for you to include yourself, an outsider. The man had been bitten. It was your understanding they were all headed for the CDC in Atlanta, desperate for a cure before the sickness could take him. 
But the fever had won, as it always did.  
You watched as the frail man was carefully moved to the base of a tree, but then averted your gaze as they bid him farewell. They were all affected, heads down as they returned— one by one— to their vehicles. They intended to leave him, per his own wishes. You weren’t sure if that was a choice you could make were you the one in his predicament. It was both admirable and ludicrous. 
Daryl returned to the truck, remaining quiet as he climbed behind the wheel. He hadn’t spoken a word to you, which left you with a tight feeling inside your chest that you couldn’t— wouldn’t—name. You wondered if you were only there because of the possibility that his baby was growing inside of you. It hadn’t been mentioned. 
“I told ya she’s good.”
He hadn’t given the group any information. They knew your name per your own admission, which alone was enough to twist the archer’s face into a scowl. You were a dirty little secret. You had placed your remaining fragments of hope in Daryl after losing everything and he was treating you like he’d left a few loose bills on a dresser after fucking you in a sleazy motel. 
You scrutinized him from the corner of your eye; the way he was tapping the tip of each finger against the steering wheel as he drove. His other arm was resting on the door, the window down, while he rubbed his thumb across his bottom lip. The broken skin on the sides of the digit suggested that it was indeed a habit he turned to in times of stress. He was consciously trying not to indulge. 
You cleared your throat, keeping your eyes on the back of the vehicle in front of you. “I’m sorry about your friend.” You dared a glance at the same time he gave you a once over. 
“Weren’t no friend’a mine.”
Lie. You could clearly see he was affected. It was borderline offensive that he’d even try to deny it. “Right. Well, I’m sorry anyway.” The uncomfortable silence stretched on, leaving you with vivid images of your encounters with the redneck. Even after you had told him you might be pregnant, there hadn’t been this thick tension in the air between the two of you. “Thank you.” He looked at you again, barely moving his hand away from his mouth. “For saving me.”
He hummed, this time parting his lips to nip at the irritated skin of his thumb. You wanted so badly to reach over and guide his hand away, but you knew that was a bad idea. 
“Ya take one’a them tests?”
Ah, there it was. Your back slid down the seat while you nervously twisted the hem of your flannel around your index finger. “Uh, no. I lost them when I ran from the camp.” He shot you a look so quickly you thought he might have given himself whiplash. 
“Y’fuckin’ serious?”
You nodded, expecting an outburst, but you still flinched when his fist came down on the doorframe, keeping it clenched when he brought it back to his mouth. “It was an accident. I wasn’t exactly thinking of them when I was wrestling a geek for my bag. Lost most of my clothes and my canteen, too.”
He let out a condescending humph from behind his hand. “Ya sure it’s even mine?”
Now it was your turn to pin him down with a look of your own. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Means exactly wha’ I said.”
You felt the sting of tears behind your eyes, along with the urge to throttle him right where he sat, regardless of the fact that he was driving. “Well, there was that other hunter I’d meet at dawn and then the one that would wait patiently until you got your rocks off first.”
“Ya think yer funny?”
“I’m not trying to be funny, asshole. If there’s a baby, unfortunately, it’s yours.” His piercing gaze met your narrowed eyes, only holding for a moment before he had to look back at the road. “Can you pull over?”
“Gon’ puke again?”
“No.” You snapped, angling your body toward the door. “I want to get out.”
“Why?”
“Because being trapped in such a small space with you is going to make me puke. Now, pull over.” 
To his credit, he did slow down. “Nah.” He pressed the gas and easily caught up with the car in front of him. 
“Don’t worry, Daryl. I won’t tell anyone your secret.” You hissed the word with such venom that you swore you could taste the remnants of it on the tip of your tongue. 
“Settle down. Ain’t lettin’ ya out so ya can get yer fool self killed.” 
You threw yourself back against the seat with more force than necessary, crossing your arms. You wondered if you suddenly began to pray that god or whoever was listening might possibly just see fit to bestow upon you the monthly occurrence that most women deem as a curse. 
This was the reason the time between you in those woods was so limited. No feelings involved. Little to no social information exchanged. You liked the Daryl that made it priority to worship your body and fuck you senseless, his only words being filthy encouragement that would catapult you to and over the edge. Even when he accompanied you to the pharmacy, his presence wasn’t a negative contribution to the journey. You had actually felt oddly…comfortable. 
But the Daryl that you were currently trapped inside a beat up old pickup truck with had spoken all of seven sentences and you wanted to shoot him in the groin. You couldn’t imagine having a child with that man. Didn’t want to imagine it. If only your baser instincts hadn’t been so prominent over common sense when you saw him in the woods that third time. 
You could vomit now when you thought back on that specific meeting. You quite literally propositioned him while stalking toward him and simultaneously ripping off your shirt. He had looked so confused at first but caught up quickly. He was deep inside you while you straddled his lap less than five minutes later. Why hadn’t you at least had the brain power to tempt him just enough and send him to get condoms first? Nope. You jumped straight on his dick like a horny teenager. 
“For the love of fucks sake.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, ashamed at how recalling the carnal moments spent with the man across the bench seat from you had heat pooling at the apex of your thighs. You shifted, crossing your legs and pressing one down on the other, the tough inseam of your jeans rubbing just right over your clit to send a jolt of pleasure all the way down to your toes. You only barely stifled a moan. 
A quick glance found Daryl still watching the road, lighting up a cigarette. Yet another thing you didn’t know about him. You shifted your hips while casting quick, discrete glances. He was seemingly oblivious. Biting your bottom lip, you turned your face toward the window and continued the careful side to side of your hips, very slowly but very steadily working toward what would undoubtedly be a quick and not totally satisfying orgasm. Still, it was better than the alternatives of either sliding your hand into your panties or asking the man beside you to slide his hand into your panties. 
You noticed your breaths quickening and inhaled deeply through your nose to try and calm both that and your heartrate. The hot coil burning in your lower belly was tightening, pulses of pleasure bleeding out to culminate at the swollen bud that your jeans were stimulating. You were so close, almost there—
Daryl cleared his throat, flicking his smoke out the window and unintentionally bringing a sudden halt to any progress you had made toward release. You openly glared at him. 
“Wha’?” He huffed, sneering at your obvious resentment. 
“You’re an asshole.”
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It was near dusk when the caravan finally pulled up to the CDC. There had been stops to siphon fuel, take bathroom breaks, and go over plans and strategies. You had remained inside the cab of the truck, not trusted enough to be privy on their plans. You couldn’t really fault them. Even if they had included you, nothing they had said could have prepared you for the devastation outside the government building. 
“We’re really going out there?” You asked, feeling nauseated at the thought of seeing the bodies up close. 
“Yep.” Daryl replied casually, already outside the truck. He was holding his crossbow as well as a shotgun and was looking at you expectantly. “C’mon. Get th’ lead out, woman.” 
Puffing out your cheeks in a forced exhale, you opened the truck door. The stench of death and rot was even worse when you stepped out onto the pavement. Flies and maggots were in abundance, feasting on the fallen littering the ground. You gagged behind your hand, ushered forward by a surprisingly gentle hand from the redneck. 
“Can’ stop here.”
When you caught up with the group, the one called Shane was directing everyone like a traffic cop, trying to keep fear and panic to a minimum. “All right, everybody. Keep moving. Go on. Stay quiet. Let's go. Okay, keep moving. Stay together.”
Rick joined in, urging everyone forward while Jacqui and Shane tried to keep the group quiet. You were at the rear of the main cluster of people with Daryl following closely behind you. You could hear the commotion before you saw Shane pounding on the shutters that were keeping the entrance blocked. 
“Walkers!” Daryl called out, firing a shot that made you flinch. 
“Walkers?” You blurted before realizing exactly what he meant. “Oh fuck!” You had no weapon, absolutely no method of defending yourself. Before you could protest, Daryl had reached back with one arm and pushed you behind himself. You didn’t have time to think too hard on it before he was yelling. 
“Ya led us into a graveyard!” 
Your hands had fisted into the back of his shirt, subsequently allowing him to guide you where he needed you without sacrificing his focus. 
“He made a call!” Shane sounded from somewhere behind you. 
Daryl growled harshly, the sound vibrating your hands against his back. “It was the wrong damn call!” He shouted. The commotion continued, blame and orders being thrown about in shouts and pleas you ignored in favor of burying your face between Daryl’s shoulder blades. You had survived; lost your entire family and stayed alive only to die with a handful of strangers and a man you almost wished you had made more of an effort to get to know. Amidst the crying children, the screaming women, you could clearly hear and focus on Rick’s desperate declaration:
“You’re killing us! You’re killing us! You’re killing us!”
“Daryl.” You sobbed before you could stop yourself. 
Then, something unexpected but no less of a miracle. 
The shutters began to open, dousing you all in a most blessed light. 
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@stitchintimefan @thegeorgiahuntsman @livingdeadblondequeen @deansapplepie @feral4daryl @walker-bait-1973 @lazyneonrabbitt @bizquake @littlelovingideas @ririi-3 @ankhmutes @blackvelveteen1339 @sokkasimp101 @lehhos @1ivinqdeadqir1main @loganlostitall @sshewonders @callmeyn @queenmizuki @crazyunsexycool
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The Lesson
A prequel to “The Video”
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April sat cross-legged on her bed, the flickering light from her computer casting eerie shadows across the walls. The serum she had perfected was in a small vial on her desk, its contents swirling lazily as if it were alive. Her heart raced with excitement and anticipation, her fingers trembling slightly as she reached out to touch the vial. This was it, the moment she had been working towards for months. The moment she would finally find out if her serum worked as she hoped it would.
She took a deep breath, steadying her nerves before unscrewing the cap of the vial. The sharp smell of chemicals filled her nose, making her eyes water slightly. Carefully, she drew a small amount of the serum into the syringe and brought the needle close to her skin. “Here we go” she whispered to herself, summoning all the courage she could muster. She plunged the needle into her arm, feeling the cool liquid seep into her veins.
For a moment, nothing happened. April sat there, breath held, waiting for something, anything to change. But the seconds ticked by, and her heart continued to beat at its steady rhythm. She glanced down at her arm, expecting to see some sort of transformation, but it looked exactly the same as before. She ran to the bathroom as she looked in the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her, unchanged. Her heart sank as she realized that the serum hadn't worked. She had failed.
“Argh you’re such a loser April. You never get anything right.” Her inner critic was relentless, and she couldn't help but feel a twinge of despair. But as she stood there, staring at herself in the mirror, she noticed something strange. The color of her eyes seemed different. Not lighter or darker, but...richer. Like they had always held that depth but had been obscured before. She stepped closer, studying her reflection intently.
“Yes! It’s working! I’m a genius. Dr. Brown is going to be so impressed.” April’s brown hair turned platinum as she imagined telling her favorite Professor of her success. He would smile and kiss her before pushing her against a wall and fuck her.
April frowned at the idea and shook her head trying to remove the image from her mind. The more she tried to think of something else the more vivid the images became. April’s body responded to the thoughts as she bit her lip. “W..wait no this is wrong. Ungh get out of my head!”
The images stopped for a moment as a voice whispered in her head. “But it’s what you want and now you can have it.” April could feel herself get wet as her nipples hardened poking through her shirt. “No, stop it. I just wanted his respect… and his cock.” April covered her mouth in shock at how sultry the last statement sounded. It was not her voice. The voice in her head grew louder. “Stop fighting this there’s nothing holding you back. You don’t have to be that pathetic nerd. You can be more! You can feel more” April’s hand moved like it had a life of its own rubbing her jeans as her hips gyrated.
“Mmm what am I? What am I doing? Feels so good” April’s eyes fluttered as she lost control feeling woozy. April’s vision corrected as she no longer needed her glasses as her vision became blurry behind the thick lenses. April in a trance opened her jeans as she plunged her fingers deeply inside her. She felt hot as she gasped and heard the voice again. “Dr. Brown is going to love the new you. He won’t be able to resist.” April’s fingers picked up speed as her flat butt ballooned in her jeans. Her flesh dug into the denim as her thighs got thicker and her hips widened.
April’s moans became throaty and sexier as her face shifted. Cheekbones rose, her nose softened, and her lips plumped. April arched her back as the changes began to reach their end. “I’m gonna, I’m gonna…” April’s breast grew bigger as they began to make her t shirt rip down the middle. The sound of ripping and moans echoed in her apartment as her niples hardened into two perfect pebbles. “I’m gonna Hhhhahh!” She grunted as the orgasm rocked throughout her body. She felt energized as she got up and looked at herself in the mirror. “I’m gonna fuck my professor mmmm fuck! It feels so good to say it out loud.”
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April walked over to her desk and grabbed the note she had written to Dr. Brown. She crumpled it up and tossed it in the trash can. She smiled seductively as she put on her new outfit. A black bra and panties set that perfectly accentuated her new curves. She ran her hands over her body, feeling the smooth skin and the weight of her breasts in her hands. She finished getting dressed in the least modest outfit she owned.
With a confident swagger, April left her apartment and made her way to the university. She couldn't help but feel a sense of power and desire coursing through her veins. Every step she took was a reminder of the changes she had undergone. Her hips swayed subtly, her breasts bounced with each step, and her new scent filled the air around her.
When she arrived at Dr. Brown's office, she couldn't help but feel a little nervous, but also incredibly aroused. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door, her heart racing in anticipation. The door opened, revealing Dr. Brown's familiar face, but she barely registered it as her gaze was drawn to his own obvious arousal. Dustin had seen beautiful students before but the way the pencil skirt and blouse hugged her skin. It was almost as the clothes were too small but still looked so good.
“Ahem yes! May I help you… Miss?” Dustin Brown said, his voice slightly shaky. He cleared his throat and tried to maintain his composure as he took in the sight of the stunning woman standing before him. Her eyes were locked on him, her expression a mix of confidence and desire that was both unsettling and intoxicating.
April smiled seductively, walking into the office. She closed the door behind her, effectively shutting out the rest of the world. "Dr. Brown, I wanted to speak with you about my latest paper." Her voice was soft and sultry, barely above a whisper. It sent shivers down his spine. "But I think there's something else we should discuss first." She stepped closer, her hips swaying as she moved.
Dustin Brown felt himself growing harder as she approached. He couldn't take his eyes off her. "Miss... I'm sorry, but I don’t recall seeing you in any of my classes." He tried to sound firm, but his voice betrayed him. It came out as a whisper, barely audible.
April laughed softly, shaking her head. "No, I'm not one of your students, Dr. Brown. I'm Pepper. I am a biologist with my research focusing on one thing." She moved even closer, until she was just inches away from him. Dustin could feel the heat emanating from her body, could smell the sweet scent of her perfume. His control was slipping fast.
"What... what is your focus ?" He managed to stammer. His heart was racing, his mind reeling from the sensual onslaught. He couldn't take his eyes off her.
Pepper smiled, running her hands up his chest, stopping just above his shoulders. "My focus, Dr. Brown, is on transformation. On changing. On becoming something new and exciting." Her fingers danced along his shoulders, sending shivers down his spine. "And I've been wanting to change you for quite some time now." She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his ear. "I want to make you into something that's been aching to get out of you."
Dustin's breath hitched as he felt her body against his, her breasts pressing into his chest. His hands moved to her hips, pulling her even closer. "What do you mean?" he whispered, his voice thick with desire.
She smiled, her lips curving into a wicked grin. "Oh, Dr. Brown, you know exactly what I mean." She stepped back placing a hand on his crotch. "I've been watching you, you know. Seeing the way you look at your students, the way you fantasize about them." Her hand moved, unbuttoning his shirt slowly, revealing the defined muscles of his chest. "I want to give you what you've been wanting.. it’s time for you to be bad.”
As she spoke, her fingers moved with a practiced ease, undoing his shirt and pushing it off his shoulders. His skin gleamed in the soft light of the office, and she felt her mouth water. She leaned forward, her breasts brushing against his chest as she reached around, unfastening his slacks. "You're such a good boy, Dr. Brown. But I'm going to make you naughty." Her breath fanned across his neck, sending shivers down his spine.
With practiced efficiency, she stripped him bare, revealing his hardened length. She took him in her hand, stroking him gently, feeling the heat and strength of him in her palm. "You've been holding yourself back… it’s time to let it all go." Her words sent a thrill of excitement through him.
Dustin felt himself growing even harder as she continued to stroke him, her touch both gentle and possessive. He could feel the blood rushing to his groin, his breath coming faster and faster. "P-Pepper," he stammered, his voice barely audible.
She looked up at him, her eyes dark and smoldering. "That's right, Dustin. I’m your dreams come true. A bad girl who just wants your cock." She leaned forward, taking his aching length into her mouth. Her lips were soft and warm, and she began to bob her head, sucking him deeper. He cried out, his hips bucking forward as he lost control.
Her head went up and down vigorously as she sucked. Her tongue and lips wrapped around his member expertly as Dustin’s head tilted back. His hands found their way into her hair, gripping tightly. He could feel the heat from her mouth and the softness of her lips as they slid up and down his length. He arched his back, pressing deeper into her mouth. The sensation was overwhelming, and he knew he was close.
"That's it, Dustin. Let go. Let me take you there." She whispered, her breath hot against his skin. He could feel his control slipping further and further away as she continued to suck him, her lips and tongue working in perfect harmony. His hips bucked wildly, his body tensed, and he cried out her name as he came, spurting hot cum into her mouth.
She took him all the way, swallowing every last drop, before pulling back to look up at him. His chest heaved, his eyes closed tightly as he tried to catch his breath. "That's it, Dustin. You're such a good teacher, but I'm going to help you be bad. Really bad." She smiled, running her fingers along his still-hard length. "I think you're going to like it."
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into-the-lokiverse · 5 months
Text
Who You Really Are (Loki, God of Stories x Reader)
Summary: When all appears lost to an aspiring novelist, the God of Stories sends a message of hope.
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(credit to @lokitvsource for the gif)
You weren't sure how much further you could go on, or if you could go on.
For years, one of the biggest things you desperately wanted in life was to be a novelist. To entertain with stories of magic, power, action, romance, and a little nonsense.
But lately, as you sat before your desk, exhausted from the day job you relied on to pay the bills, you just couldn't bring yourself to move forward with your debut story. The plot felt too twisted to the point even you could barely comprehend it at times. The characters once vivid, were fading into shadows and dust of their former selves. And the scenes you envisioned in detail started to feel...unreachable.
And yet, you couldn not stop scribbling notes at every random moment of inspiration. You clung to the memory of your characters.
Like a parasite or an infection, the idea of your story plagued your mind for weeks, months to the point where it never seemed to leave you. You could barely think straight about anything else, even cleaning.
Half-drank cups of coffee at every corner of the desk, loose napkins with random thoughts written on them, a garbage can full of tissues, candy wrappers, and tea bags, a folder filled with printed images of your dark-haired, blue-eyed muse, and a stack of books that you checked out for "inspiration" but hardly touched.
The floor surrounding your desk had a thin layer of dust, wherever there weren't fallen pens you hadn't the heart to pick up, or papers you abandoned.
Am I meant to be a writer, or am I simply possessed?, you contemplated over a cup of stale coffee. Am I truly, clinically insane with obssssion? Am I doing the right thing, or have I finally lost my mind? Maybe I'm just crazy...maybe I'm wasting my time, doing the wrong thing that was never meant for me.
Or maybe I'm just not worthy of being the person who...does things. The person who flourishes in doing something they love.
But just as you were about to put your head down on the one free space on your cluttered desk, you spotted a mysterious note in parchment.
It read,
I believe in you.
I believe in every part of you, even in that couple of paragraphs you've stuffed in your desk (which honestly should be cleaned, but you won't do it.).
I believe in you because I know who you could become.
Because I know who you really are. You're a talented, blessed individual burdened with a glorious compulsivity to write and far too much fear for your own good.
But who you really are, it does not matter. It is all about the stories. The adventures.
There is a last refuge for the unloved and the desperate, and the persecuted.
When life gets too impossible, when life gets too terrifying, find hope in this, my talented scribe. That when all else fails, remember that you are a branch on the tree of life.
And in the center of that tree, there is someone watching over you, protecting you like he's always done before, and will continue to do so.
Your branch is just beginning. So marvel me, and marvel yourself with all you do. My blessing is with you.
For all time always.
Loki
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probablynotasquid · 1 year
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Imagine an SAGAU imposter AU with gold blooded creator!reader but with a twist. The characters know the creator has golden tears of pain and gold blood but what they don’t know is the gold isn’t visible until it complete dries in open air. Poor reader is chased though the plains of each land and shunned by all except the very young, very elderly and typically hostile creatures that live across Teyvat. While on the run in Inazuma they are caught by the Tenryou Commission and tortured (like the fake vision smith but worse) for days. Various government members from each nation join in the punishment. The red blood and crystal teardrop splatters are constantly being layered and added to so they can never fully dry. Itto and his gang hear about a tortured prisoner and go to bust them out after another session when they know they’ll be alone for a while - not recognising them as the ‘imposter’ until much later on.
The Tenryou torturers + Sara arrive for another session only to find the room empty and immediately sound the alarm about their escape. They’re so focused on finding the escaped reader that they never clean the room they used for several days on end and by the time they return it’s all dried. Reader is found running from the Arataki gang in fear they’ll be turned in and end up getting caught anyway. They’re dragged back to the room through the centre of Inazuma City but when they arrive there they see the floor and walls splattered and layered with thin swirling layers of solid gold. By this point the reader has given up fighting and slumps over in their captors’ grip, oblivious to the horror dawning on everyone’s faces as they realise what they’ve done, the crimes they’ve committed and how badly they f**ked up >>>>:)
AAAAAAA YES OMG
i absolutely love this idea aaaaaa
running through the nations, leaving splattering trails of gold far behind in your wake. occasionally spotted by a local child, recalled to parents and waved off as a wild imagination.
it was all a big misunderstanding. if they had only waited just a little longer, they would have seen it sooner. but they didn't. and now you're standing defeated before them, in front of the very cell you had previously escaped. the one you endured horrible and utterly unthinkable torture for hours, days, weeks on end. your body still ached with the echoes of the endless pain. your blood stained and seeped into the stone dungeon, now a shimmering spectacle of a room. a masterpiece with you front and center as the guards shakily loosen their grip, stepping back in horror.
they finally see, with grief unmatched, their creator. head turned back, confused and lifeless, and the painted wall behind them their golden wings.
i have a very vivid image of that scene in my head and i cannot descibe it well but holy woww yes your mind is brilliant thank you for sharing this with me
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