#[ just wanted to reblog there here too as a reminder of where i’ve been lately!

[winterrrnight]

secret admirer (rafe's pov)

PAIRING: high schooler!soft!rafe cameron x high schooler!fem!reader

SUMMARY: the reader has a secret admirer who drops letters, flowers and some other little souvenirs in their locker.

WARNINGS: so much lovesick rafe, fluff and fluff and fluff, extremely cute moments between the two

EDITH SPEAKS: and it's here!!! let's completely ignore the fact that it's been months since the original post :p please make sure you've read the original one first, because it's a bit more detailed and includes what rafe's letters say (you can find the original fic directly linked in my navigation or through the series masterlist!). I hope you all really enjoy this; this is a big piece of my heart in the form of writing 💓 please like and reblog and comment all your thoughts!!! 💘💘

navigation || requests || join my taglist || series masterlist

I walk in the school gates after my soccer practice, still in my sweaty clothes from the intense training. I look at the lockers on my left, carefully seeing the numbers on each of them so I don’t miss the one I’m looking for.

I finally find the one I’m looking for. Through one of the three little slits in the middle of the locker, I slide in my envelope. It has a letter and a little daisy in it. She’s like one; so delicate that I want to protect her from the whole world and only want her to be mine.

Because I do. She comes in my dreams every night, where she so delicately holds my hands and kisses my skin. I feel so lightweight that I will just melt right in her touch.

I look around the hallway, making sure no one sees me. When I notice no one, I take in a deep breath of relief and walk out of the school.

She needs to know how much she means to me. She needs to see how much I appreciate her.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

I now try to send in an envelope as often as I can. I send one in every few days, and try to mix it around with the little souvenir that accompanies the letter. So far, I’ve sent her flowers, chocolates, and a small bracelet which I made for her.

But today, I woke up so late, I had to miss my soccer practice. My clothes aren’t on properly, and I didn’t even have any time to do something to my hair. I look like I just rolled out of the bed.

I have to be so discreet each time I put in the letter in the locker. I don’t want anyone catching me. That’s all I am: her secret admirer. The one who admires her from afar. The one who sends her little letters to remind her how beautiful she is, and how she deserves the whole world.

I have put in the letter without anyone noticing. I’m now standing right behind the turn of the hallway, where I have a clear look of her. She’s opening her locker. I notice a bright smile on her face when she sees the letter.

Suddenly, the bell rings, cutting through my thoughts. I notice her cursing and rushing to the class, the unopened letter in her bag. I have the same class as her: it’s English and there’s no way our teacher will let us in the class.

I rush to the class too, and by the time I reach, she’s already at the door, the teacher giving her an earful. Just as I stand right behind her, our teacher notices me.

“Oh looks like we have another late comer,” He says, glaring at me. She realizes my presence, and turns around to look at me. We make brief eye contact, and I feel my cheeks heat up. We’re standing close to each other, so close that I can hear her breathing.

“I’m so sorry, I swear I set an alarm but it didn’t ring and-” I start to ramble, but the teacher cuts me off.

“DETENTION! Both of you!” He suddenly yells at the two of us. I watch her flinch, and just for a second, I have the urge of breaking the teacher’s face. He signs two detention slips and hands those to us, and then he dismisses us by closing the door on our faces.

She looks down at the slip at her hand. She hates getting detention. She’s the nice, intelligent student of our grade, and she tries to stay out of detention as much as she can.

She looks up to me and we make brief eye contact again. Oh her eyes. I find myself drowning in them each time I see her.

“Shall we go?” I ask her, wanting her to look at me with those beautiful eyes of hers. But she doesn't lift her head up, and only gives me a nod. We both start to make our way to the detention classroom.

When we reach inside, we only see our PE teacher sitting. He’s too busy reading his magazine and doesn’t realize we both have walked in until we sit down.

“Just two of you?” He looks at us, and she nods in response. “Well that's going to be a waste of my time.” He shuts his magazine close and leaves it on the desk, starting to make a beeline for the door.

“I’ll be here in an hour to let you both out. Don't do anything dumb, you're being watched.” He says and quickly leaves the room, me and her being all alone.

A silence wraps around the two of us, and it feels very serene. I pull out one of my books to read, but I falter at keeping my focus on the words because of her sitting next to me. I can’t help but steal a glance of her after every few seconds, and I swear with each passing second, she just gets more beautiful.

When she opens her bag, she pulls out the letter. I intake a sharp breath, and watch her open the envelope and read the words written on them. A smile graces her lips as her eyes wander over the words, and I feel my heart skip a beat.

“What’s that?” The words leave my mouth so quickly, I don’t realize I’ve spoken them. She snaps her head towards me.

“Nothing,” she says, focussing on folding the paper back again and putting it back in the envelope.

“Looks like a love letter, someone's been writing you love letters?” I pose the question, wanting not to show I’m the one who wrote it.

“Maybe?”

Why is she not as happy as I thought she would be?

“What do you mean, maybe?”

She sighs. “I’ve been receiving these letters which have poetry in French written in them. They usually come along with a little gift, like a small flower or some chocolate. But, there’s no name on the paper whatsoever, so I have no way of knowing who it is, if it’s legit or if someone is playing a prank on me.”

“I don’t think it’s a prank, you know.” She looks back at me, her eyes wide as they sink into mine.

“You don’t?”

“Someone maybe likes you a lot, and is, I don’t know, scared to admit it to you.” I say, shaking my head.

“But, why do you think it’s not a prank? And how are you so sure it is an actual love letter?”

I feel myself almost starting to get riled up; angry because why does she refuse to accept something like that?

“Why is it so hard for you to believe that it can be an actual love letter? That someone actually likes you a lot? You're an amazing person, don't decline the thought of someone being your admirer so easily.” I blurt out, and just the second I finish speaking, I realize I’ve said too much.

I look away from her the next instant, and try to direct all my focus on my work, ignoring the heat rising in my cheeks.

I hear her whisper a small thank you, and as much as I try not to, I steal a small glance at her, her head bent down as she's looking over her school work.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

With the incident at the detention, I decide I have to send her letters every single day, with more gifts in them, my love hidden in each one of them safely, but surely.

I see her opening her locker and finding the letter. I included a daisy chain which I learnt how to make from Sarah, more chocolates and two new bracelets.

I had to stay up overnight to finish making the chain and the bracelets, but it’s all worth it.

It’s for her.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

It was one of the first days of last summer, when I was biking around, waiting for some of my friends to meet up with me. They all had decided to meet up at a new place which I had never been to. Taking different roads and turns, I found myself in unfamiliar areas of the island.

As I continued to bike, I found a big field which I didn’t even know existed. Curious, I got off my bike and went inside the field, and found out it’s actually a huge strawberry field. Strawberries were growing on low lying plants, a bright red color making them pop out from the green of the leaves.

I was completely amazed by them. I followed their path to find a huge opening in the field with a huge tree in the middle. But before I could take any steps further, I saw her sitting under the shade of the tree, protecting herself from the bright summer sun as she was eating the strawberries. She looked so serene; sitting cross legged and biting into those strawberries, sighing as their sweet taste completely encompassed her.

Since then I always see her going on the little road which leads to the huge field, biking her way to it. Now that strawberries are back in season, I have decided to put some of those in her letter next time, and even spend some time there as I try to write some new letters to her.

I decide to go around at least 2 hours before her usual time, so she doesn't see me there at all. With my notepad, my fountain pen, ink bottle and my basket, I find myself in the strawberry field again, taking a deep breath to inhale the sweet smelling air surrounding me.

I sit under the tree, taking my notepad and my pen to begin writing, but, much to my dismay, I don't feel inspired and no words come to my help to write something. Even with a big inspiration right in front of me, I just can't think of something to write.

Frustrated, I leave my notepad under the tree and decide to gather some strawberries. I make my way in between the plants, trying to pluck only the ripest of the ripe strawberries.

Having to walk around in the dirt for so long results in dirt over my face and my clothes, but that doesn't matter to me.

“Just a few more,” I whisper, bending down at one of the bunches of strawberries to pluck them. I look at my basket, which is quite full, but I know I can get some more.

I find myself satisfied with my collection as I look at my full basket. The strawberries shine under the evening shade of the sun, the golden rays making them glow.

I start to walk back out to the tree, but just as I come back out, I spot her looking at me.

Oh shit.

I spent way too much time than I intended and now she's here.

“Oh, hey,” I say awkwardly, as she looks back at me with the same confusion as me.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, what are you doing here?” She questions me.

I can’t tell her why I’m here. I have to make something up.

"Nothing, just... just getting some of these strawberries. I've heard they're really good," I say, walking towards her. I try my best to exude confidence, to show her I’m firm in what I’m pretending to do here.

“How did you... how did you find out about this place? I come here almost every single day and I never see you here. Why suddenly today?”

I see it.

I see the hunger to know everything in her eyes.

I know she has seen my notepad and my pen, just lying there under the shade of the tree.

I know she suspected it when I said too much during the detention. She's set on knowing the truth about everything, about me being the one who drops little words of love in her locker each day, and proving her own assumptions right.

I'm standing silently in front of her, trying to find the right words to start with, and she's looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to start speaking.

“Why do you have that notepad with you, with that fountain pen?” She prompts.

We’ve come too far.

It’s time I tell it all to her.

“For you. It's all for you. It's all always been for you.” I whisper. “These,” I say, motioning to the basket in my hands, “these are for you too.”

"But... why me?” She mutters, her eyes directed towards everywhere but at me.

"Because," I walk closer to her, and with all the confidence in me, I place my finger under her chin and gently push it up so she can only look at me. I feel my hand almost shaking from getting to touch her. “I want you to know how special you are. You deserve nothing but love, and this is just me showing you that.” I move my hand towards her cheek, placing it comfortably. When I see she doesn't show any signs of discomfort, I feel myself starting to get relaxed, my heartbeat taking control over its speed. I feel her cheek radiate heat through my hand.

“But-” she starts, but I cut her off.

“No buts. I told you this before too, why are you not willing to believe that you are so worthy of being loved and appreciated? That there is someone who’s ready to do this all for you, but that wouldn’t be special now, would it? That’s what everyone does. And then my purpose of showing you that I’m not like everyone else and how I will shower you with love every single second of my life is defeated. I will bring you the moon, all you have to do is just ask.”

I say it.

I say it all in a single breath.

Every single emotion I experience when I see her is out in the open for her to see. I feel vulnerable, as if my protective top layer has been scratched away, but not roughly. It’s peeled off carefully, like we peel an orange for a loved one.

But for some reason, she doesn’t seem completely satisfied with all I have to say.

“Why me?”

I sigh, knowing we're both about to take a trip down memory lane.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

I was playing in the sand all by myself, trying my best to make a castle out of it, but my attempts failed me. I was bored; sitting all alone in the sand pit with no one with me. I watched everyone else in the playground, running and laughing with their friends, while I was left all alone.

My attention was directed towards the swings, and a huge smile graced my face when I saw it was empty. It was nearly never empty, always being hogged by the rest of the kindergarteners. I rushed to it and sat on one of them, starting to swing back and forth.

I had just started to enjoy the swing, when a huge group of bullies made its way towards me.

“Hey, give us the swing!” Greg, their leader, demanded. I felt myself getting scared, almost trembling, but I didn't want to give the bullies the satisfaction that they had made me scared.

“No!” I said, tightening my grip on the swings and trying to glare at them; to show they didn't scare me. But that only seemed to anger Greg more, because with just one motion of his head, all of his friends charged towards me. They pulled me away from my swing and threw me on the ground with a loud thud, and I screamed at the pain inflicted to me. I started crying as I helped myself up with all my strength to see Greg laughing at me as he sat on his swing.

I felt lost. No teacher came up to help me, despite there being many in the playground to oversee everything. I sat up properly, sniffling, and I noticed my bruises covering my knees.

But suddenly, I felt the sunlight being blocked in front of me, and I looked up to see you.

You were standing in front of me, a gentle smile on your face as you let out your hand for me. My eyes were wide seeing you being so gentle towards me. I took your hand and you pulled me up, and led me to your teacher in your classroom.

I remember her being shocked at my condition. She took me away from you and started to apply an antiseptic on my knees, which spread a burning sensation. I whined at the feeling, wanting it to end at that instant.

She very carefully applied band aids on my wounds, and gave me a little pat on my cheek, and called me a ‘strong boy’. She left me, and you came in just the next second, taking me to your table in the classroom.

I saw you curiously as you opened up your bag and rummaged through it. You pulled out a lollipop, and handed it to me.

“You are so brave,” you said, and I felt my heart racing at your comment.

“Thank you,” I said, taking the lollipop from your hand.

It was strawberry flavored.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

“From that day, I've never stopped looking at you. As we grew older, I knew you were the one I wanted to be with, and I wanted to reciprocate all that you've done for me. It's not just the lollipop, throughout all the years you've been there for me when no one else was, I just don't want you to think that your efforts go unappreciated.” I finish.

She's looking at me with wide eyes, her breathing getting heavier.

She knows why she means the whole universe to me.

She knows why I would travel to the other side of the world to get her her favorite kind of flowers.

“Rafe,” she starts, but tears start to blur her eyes. I move my thumbs to her cheeks to quickly wipe them off, before they fall off her face.

“This is nothing compared to what you've done for me, those chocolates, little verses of poetry, bracelets, they don't amount to the things you've done for me in any way. But I just want to show you how amazing you are, and how you deserve the nicest things in the world.” I whisper.

Before I can process what is happening, her lips are pressed against mine, my eyes shut close as I feel her so close to me. My lips move against hers gently, and I feel her pull me closer to her with her arms around my neck.

She pulls away and gently rests her forehead against mine. My eyes are still shut, and I'm afraid if I'll open them up, I'll wake up from the most serene dream I've ever had.

"Je t'aime. Aujourd'hui. Ce soir. Demain. Pour toujours. Su je vivais mille ans, he t'appartiendrais pour tous. Si je vivais mille vies, je te ferais mienne dans chaacune d'elles." I whisper, taking in a deep breath to let the moment settle in me.

“I love you. Today. Tonight. Tomorrow. Forever. If I were to live a thousand years, I would belong to you for all of them. If I were to live a thousand lives, I would want to make you mine in each one.”

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @saccharinesammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff @wallsdreams @tahliac11 @sadfury @newsies-pape-girl @jamesbuckybarneswify @xxxlaura @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @callsignwidow

[syntheticavenger]

night shift

It's almost fall and it's been a while since I did a one shot so here we are. I haven't written a monster fic in a while so where we are.

If you like it, please comment/reblog if you can.

Robert Pronge x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.4K

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, light stalking, mentions of murder, mentions of stalking, language, non-con (right at the end), chasing.

Summary | Taking the late shifts at work means trying to ignore the one co-worker that seems to always get a little too close for your liking.

Working night shifts at the motel on the side of the road just out on the outskirts of town isn’t exactly your idea of climbing the corporate ladder. 

It’s the only job that works with your schedule at the community college, your workload increased to try to graduate quicker. If you had been born into better circumstances, you wouldn’t have had your education take a backseat to take care of your ailing parents who didn’t have the money to shore up a retirement fund, let alone money for your education. 

For now, working at this run-down motel with the flickering lights and all hours of the night customers who give you a leer and ask for the hourly rates are what you’re deigned yourself to deal with.

A means to an end.

The slap of a wet mop on the stained linoleum gets your attention, looking up from your ledger at the janitor. 

You’ve specifically asked to not be scheduled when he is, a request you had thought was reasonable, watching the smoke billow from his mouth after he plucks the cigarette from his lips, the mop leaning on his weirdly muscular frame, brown hair hanging down, touching his shoulders, his blue eyes narrowing on you through clear framed glasses. His name always slips your mind, never getting close enough to read his name tag that is on his uniform.

He makes you uncomfortable, both in ways you’ve explained to your manager and ways you haven’t been able to describe. 

Like now, how he fits the cigarette to the side of his mouth, mopping the floor but still managing to encroach on your space. The ways you’ve been able to describe your awkward encounters are the way he likes to scare you, mopping down dark hallways to then shout your name and laugh, the way you’ve seen him slip into hotel rooms with some of the newer front desk clerks.

They never last long once he’s been with them. 

Your manager has told you that they’ve quit, sometimes over the phone or just abandoned the job. When you’ve pointed out the disappearance of one of them that made the local news, your manager made it a point to remind you that most of these girls want a quick job, not looking for any stability and that their first paycheck would mean they would split, just like she did.

He didn’t entertain the complaint you had raised when you’d seen her run out of the hotel room, grabbing her things and running to her car. By the time you’d run outside to try to ask if she needed help, she was gone.

By the time you were able to open the motel room door, the janitor was nowhere to be found, the room in shambles.

“Nothing to worry about,” your manager had said quickly. “I’ll talk to him. Probably a lover’s quarrel. I’ve told him about fraternization.”

It didn’t take long for you to realize your manager was afraid of him.

Raised voices that came from his office when he had followed up made you nervous, the janitor’s voice loud as he threatened him before storming out.

You couldn’t look at your boss the same way since then, seeing him come out as he reprimanded you, telling you that he wasn’t going to entertain anymore made-up stories. You should have been done that day, but he knew as well as you did that you needed the money, even offering you an additional two dollars per hour for your ‘trouble’.

Hush money had worked. 

That’s why you’re still here, still working these late-night shifts.

The mop swishes back and forth, the man inching closer to the desk, biting back a cough from the smoke. ‘Home’ by Henry Hall plays on the tinny speakers in the corners, moving your ledger away from him when he turns around, looking at you again.

“Awfully skittish tonight,” he observes, the name Robert embroidered on his dark blue coveralls, his face grimacing at the music. “This your playlist?”

“No.”

You want to be polite, aware of how your tone comes off. You’ve never begged for customers to come but you are now, his forearms resting on the counter. He smiles at you, revealing yellowed teeth and almost too sharp canines that makes you reel back for a second as you blink.

“What?” he asks, grabbing the mop again. “Like I said, real skittish. We’ve worked together now, what? Almost a year. You think you’d be used to me, kitten.”

The mop drops unceremoniously in the water in the bucket, slapping wetly again on the ground, Robert humming the tune to himself as he heads behind the counter. You grit your teeth at the unwanted pet name, trying to stand up straight.

“I can get out of your way,” you offer, taking a step to the other side when he tsks at the motion.

“Stay right there. I like what I see.”

Closing the ledger, you try to make sure your voice sounds authoritative as possible, glaring at him. You want to be shocked at his words, but you know he’s probably said much worse.

“You can’t say things like that, you know.”

“Oh, did I offend your poor little sensibilities?” Robert scoffs, blowing out a rapid line of smoke from the side of his mouth as the song changes to Al Bowlly’s ‘Midnight, the Stars and You”. “Your playlist isn’t half bad, toots. Let’s dance.”

Before you have a chance to deny him, the mop clatters into a little corner or space and you’re pulled into his arms.

He’s strong.

Too strong.

“I don’t want to dance,” you protest angrily, trying to push away from him. He smells earthy, like wet dog. Wrinkling your nose, you look away from him, trying to keep your composure. His arms are anchored around you, so tight that you can barely move, and you can tell he’s waiting for you to look at him. “Let me go!”

“You need to calm down,” he says with a laugh when you finally look up at him, still feebly attempting to push him off.

“I said let me go!”

“We’re dancing,” he says in a low tone, almost like a growl that instantly quiets you, your heart racing at the near animalistic tenor. “You follow my lead.”

Not that you have a choice, your heels dragging against the slippery ground. Any chance you get, you try to look out the window for any sign of someone to come.

White lights brighten the dark space, a car parking as Robert lets you go, shaking as he picks up his mop.

It’s a cop car.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, you see them head inside, the bells jingling as Robert disappears down the hall, whistling to himself over the sound of the bucket rollers.

“Evening,” one of the officers says, looking at your face. “Something wrong?”

“Hey,” the other officer says quietly. “It’s alright. Did something happen?”

It will sound ridiculous if you say it.

The creepy janitor made me dance with him? 

“Long night,” you murmur, seeing them look around before the first one clears his throat.

“Listen, we’re, uh, looking for a room.”

He stares at his partner and then back at you, sliding you a wad of folded twenties.

“I’d ask for your silence on this,” he hints. “We’ll be out of here soon.”

Grabbing the keys off the wall is easy, your spiel down to a science as you shudder at the thought of being alone with Robert again. This job isn’t worth it.

Especially since he has no concept of giving you anymore personal space.

“Room 9,” you answer. “I can show you to it.”

“We’ll be fine,” the other office replies. “Wouldn’t want to cause suspicion.���

“O-Okay,” you answer, sliding the key over as he produces more money on the counter.

“Thanks,” they say in unison.

When the door closes, you exhale, grabbing your purse as you listen for any sign of Robert.

The coast is clear, you head out the front, the door jingling as you search for your keys as you get closer to your car. Pawing through your bag, you swear you had dropped them in your purse once you had got inside, realizing too late that they are inside your small little cabinet where you usually put your things.

Inside looks quiet, still no sign of him but you know better. He’s probably lying in wait to scare you again.

Or worse.

Going back inside means doing it quickly, going around the counter to open the cabinet when you don’t see the keys, holding your breath as the jingle subsides.

“Fuck,” you mutter, checking one more time before you exhale in defeat, reaching back one more time until your fingers close in on your keyring, pulling them close to you when you hear a whistle down the hall. Standing still, you flatten yourself against the counter, hoping he won’t come closer.

The tinny music plays overhead, a loud trumpet solo that gives you a chance to move. The swish of the mop gets your attention, your steps slow, your car in sight. You don’t dare hit the key fob to unlock it, fingers pushing against the cool metal when the mop clatters to the ground loudly, the jingle louder than you recall when you rush toward the car, clicking the button to unlock your car. It responds with a dull sound, the car not responding when you hear the jingle of the door again.

“Funny thing about batteries,” Robert calls out to you, a shiver going down your spine. “They just pop right out.”

The batteries fall from his hand when you turn around, noticing that he seems taller.

Bigger.

Under the moonlight, he smiles, nodding back toward the office.

“Come on back,” he requests, looking at his watch. “By my calculation, you’ve got at least three hours left of your shift. Wouldn’t want me to snitch that you’re abandoning your job, would you?”

When he smiles, you gasp, his teeth sharper than ever that makes you take a step back in confusion.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he continues, looking up at the moon. “You don’t want to be out here on a night like this. I don’t want to have to drag you back inside.”

“Stay away from me, you freak!” you shout, Robert’s eyes narrowing as he nods at your response. 

“Freak,” Robert growls, cracking his neck from side to side. “That’s not very nice.”

“Leave me alone or I’ll call the cops!”

“You mean the ones fuckin’ in room nine? I don’t think they’ll care. Get back inside.”

“Fuck you!”

Adrenaline makes you brave, running away from him as you hear him behind you, gravel crunching underneath his shoes as you dial 911, running down the empty highway with no cars in sight. 

You’re cursing the fact that you work in such a godforsaken shithole, hearing eerie sounds of snapping of something – possibly bone – when you realize your call isn’t going through, the spotty service dropping your call before you try again, trying to keep your wits as you hear the sounds of bones cracking behind you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you seethe, your legs burning with effort to keep your distance when your phone clatters out of your hand.

Heavy steps continue, nails on pavement that spurs you forward, forgetting about the phone and hoping to leave with your life.

The howl that cuts through the night air makes you sob, fear sending shockwaves down your body as you keep running, tears rolling down your cheeks. Hoping and waiting for someone – anyone – to come down this stretch of road feels like it will never come.

Running so fast, it takes a minute to realize you don’t hear the thing behind you, not daring to look back when you see a flash of light, a car coming down the road. Waving your arms frantically, the car slams on its brakes when you stand in front of it.

“Are you fucking crazy?!” the driver shouts, his window down as the acrid smell of weed hits your nose.

“Please, I need, I need some help,” you beg, uncaring that you may look a mess, heart thumping wildly when you finally look back, seeing nothing but more open road. “I was… I was being chased and…”

The driver, an older man with graying hair and wrinkled skin, looks head and then back at you.

“I don’t pick up tweakers,” he mutters, pulling the joint from his thin lips. “I don’t see shit outside.”

“I swear I was,” you beg, seeing him look you up and down. “I’ll get off at the closest gas station. I just need to go. Please.”

The man nods his head over to the passenger side, your fingers reaching for the handle before he opens the door for you. It feels safe to be inside, a psychedelic song playing on the radio when he accelerates, the car moving forward with a low groan.

“You’re fine,” the man blurts out, eyes on the road. “I don’t see nothing.”

You’re silent, unsure if you want to argue with your reluctant rescuer. You know exactly what your eyes saw, how your heart had pounded in your chest at the idea that a man had turned into something.

“It’s late,” he continues, exhaling heavily before he coughs loudly. “You one of those prostitutes?”

“No,” you answer. “I work down the road.”

“Then why don’t I take you there instead of a gas station?”

“That’s where I was running from. I’m not going back there, I -”

“What the fuck is that thing?”

It looks like a dog in the road but much bigger, maybe a wolf size but the eyes shine eerily in light of the headlights, shaking its head as it seems to grow in size, the body growing bigger as it stands on its hind legs.

“Holy shit!” the man shouts, slamming the car in reverse as the animal runs toward the car at a breakneck speed.

It jumps on the hood of the car with a thud, it’s yellow eyed peering through the windshield. The limbs are long, the claws deep in the metal of the hood. When it growls, the sound vibrates through the car, rendering you both silent.

“What the fuck is that?” the man whispers, his voice shaking. “I’ve never seen a wolf like that before.”

He moves to lock the door, a grave mistake before the shatter of glass hits you, teeth sinking into flesh as he screams, blood splattering as you frantically reach for the door handle to open it, spilling out onto the cold pavement.

Flight as kicked in, your brain alerting you to run, your legs following suit when the once bloodcurdling screams finally stop, somewhere down the way when all you can hear is your hard breaths and your shoes hitting the ground with each step.

“You can’t run all night!” a voice yells behind you. A voice you know all too well. “You’re going to need to conserve all that energy!”

No cars for miles, no amount of looking back will bring you comfort if the man died peacefully �� you know he didn’t, the blood still on your clothes.

You fall before you realize it – hit by a force so hard that you roll, your brain rolling around as you’re disoriented, pain seizing in your body as you cry out loudly. A heavy hand pulls you from your side and onto your back, looking up at Robert as he smiles, leaning down to inspect your wounds.

“Got a lot of blood on that pretty face,” he says with a sad shake of his head, his rough finger wiping the blood from your cheek, licking it from his finger. “Good thing it’s not yours.”

“HELP!” you shout, his hand going over your mouth as he crouches down over you. It’s painful, the pressure that seems otherworldly on your mouth, pressing your head so hard into the ground that tears come to your eyes.

He inhales loudly, peering down at you from his glasses that are shattered in one lens. He chucks them off to the side, leaning down to inspect you.

“Could have done this properly,” he mutters. “Didn’t your mama ever tell you it’s not nice to call people names? What was that name you called me?”

His fingers seem to stretch over your mouth and down your cheek, the crack of bone making you shiver.

“Freak,” he growls, his eyes turning yellow. “All those girls, bored and wanting a quick fuck. You know why room ten isn’t ever available?”

He laughs, his teeth sharp as you whimper in fear.

“That’s where I’ve kept their bones,” he whispers against your ear, his voice low, nearly unrecognizable. “Now, the way I see it. You can come with me or you can run. I assure you that you won’t like the latter. I’m gonna let you up and you get to make a choice. Understand?”

You can’t nod, simply blinking before his lifts his hand. Adrenaline helps you sit up, your body aching from the fall.

“I just wanna go home, please. Robert, please let me go,” you plea, his head shaking as you spy his broken glasses. “Please don’t kill me.”

“Now, why would I do that? I like the chase,” he explains, circling you as his limbs hang at his sides. “I’m a loner out here. Don’t mind it much but then you came in at the perfect time, wrapped up in your little class struggle and I thought, well, this one will do.”

“Do what?”

He laughs, nearly a deep purr when you search for a way out.

“You’re gonna be my mate.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” you sob, hot tears sliding down your cheeks. “I promise. I’ll leave town.”

“That’s the plan, baby girl,” Robert agrees. “But you’ll be going with me.”

 “No!” you hiss, grabbing a fistful of dirt to toss in his eyes.

It’s quick, just enough for him to howl in pain before you get to your feet, running as fast as you can, dizziness from the fall making you stumble. When your name is shouted, it echoes, nearly a roar before you hear him – feel him – close, his breath on your back before you’re knocked down again.

There is no human likeness to Robert. Not anymore.

He snarls, saliva dripping from his jaws as his razor sharp teeth rip and pull at your clothes, your fingers digging into the sand to try to hold onto something to pull yourself up. It’s no use, the cool air juxtaposed with his hot breath against your bare back means he’s nearly finished ripping apart your clothes, your knees moving up so that you can stand before you’re knocked down again.

Teeth sink into the back of your neck, rendering you immobile as you scream. It’s drowned out by the loud growl, keeping you silent as your blood runs down your neck. Dust and sand coat your lips, your sobs muffled by the ground.

A rough tongue laps at your wound, the pain keeping you compliant. It doesn’t feel real, as if you’re in a dream before it stops, human hands parting your legs as the strips of ripped fabric rustle.

“Is this better?” Robert says against the shell of your ear, brushing off the sand and dirt from your cheek. “Not a fan of my other form, are you?”

Fingers slide between your thighs, circling your clit roughly when your mouth opens to protest, only to be met with a disapproving hum.

“Ovulation makes you smell so sweet and makes you so,” Robert pauses, his fingers pushing inside you. “Wet.”

You don’t want to like it, not like this, not out in the open and definitely not with his half wolf form that terrifies you. But sparks of desire, the base instinct of your body betrays you, Robert inhaling the scent of your hair as his fingers work faster.

“Nice and tight,” he growls. “Smells good.”

The moon shines over you again, past the wispy clouds in the night sky as there is another click of bone on bone, clothes ripping as the smell of wet dog intensifies. The sewn on name tag with a piece of his coveralls falls into view, his teeth nipping at the backs of your thighs before you’re nudged to your knees to present.

“Good girl,” he chuffs against your hair, his voice now inhuman. “Good mate.”  

[donna-rinascimentale]

i just KNOW den den tumblr would go hard

3 notes

🪝🔁 jolie-rouger reblogged westendgirl

🪝 jolie-rouger

ok i know we went through this months ago but i just found out overflowing sasaki has my birth month on the sexy pirate calendar this year and i just—

listen if having a pirate kink is wrong i don’t wanna be right LOL

🎠 westendgirl Follow

Please delete this. In my country, everyone knows someone who was killed by pirates. It breaks my heart that I can’t browse safely without people like you making light of my trauma.

🪝 jolie-rouger

aren’t you the marine who got called out for spending work money on a PX5

#no but i was like. where have i heard that name before #and i snoogle it and see that’s THE westendgirl #never leaving this website. #rouge speaks

24 notes

🤖🔁 codepunk reblogged uminosora

❄️ uminosora Follow

hey im laine/stealth. 22 they/he. grand line (south side).

yes, this is a sora fanblog. i want to make it clear that i do NOT condone irl marines. AMAB. yes even your marine dad or sister or grandpa

minors dni im not a babysitter

i have an electrical engineering apprenticeship so PLEASE PLEASE talk to me about it ill love you forever

i’m an artist! i post my work under #my art !!

if we are mutuals please tw injections, wasps, and tra/fal/gar la/w (individually or with my catchall #laine don’t look or #stealth don’t look)

extended byf/dni under the cut

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Keep reading

#laine.txt #intro #sora warrior of the sea #umi no senshi sora #artists on tumblr

4 notes

👒 fuckyeahmugiwaras Follow

© FOR MUGI

XX0531 ♥

#MONKEY D LUFFY #STRAW HATS #STRAW HAT PIRATES #LUFFY #HAVE YOU EVER SEEN SUCH A LITTLE GUY #A FACE TOO GOOD FOR THIS WORLD. TOO PURE. #ADMIN BARTO #ALSO BY THE WAY MOD HEBI IS TAKING A SMALL HIATUS. WILL EXPLAIN IN A LONGER POST

128 notes

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The new CRIMINAL S/S 20XX collection is here.

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🍤 lia-writes Follow

SOOOO sorry for the slow updates guys! I live near the Newgate protests and my house got molotoved so I lost internet access for a few weeks BUT I’ve been writing the next chapter down on paper & just transferred it so here it is!!

Lift Me Away - Roku x Reader - Chapter 3

You find yourself trembling, not knowing what struck you. The man’s arms envelop you gently, knowing his strength, his presence otherworldly. He feels too perfect to be human—and yet he’s warm and he exhausts, the way he’s exhausted protecting you. He tilts you upright, careful of your weak knees, and looks you in the eye.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Keep reading

#monkey ball #monkey ball roku #roku x reader #reader insert #female reader #fem reader #roku x fem reader

54 notes

🃏 meadowoftheroad Follow

“i don’t find sea kings cute” ok??? sometimes a little baby has 18 rows of teeth

#sea king mention #meadow rambles #i just want to take them home is that weird?? #little noodles #1k #5k #10k #50k

73,878 notes

🌁🔁 vanillacrypt reblogged 4kari

♾️ rokusbreastimplants Follow

daily reminder that it’s okay not to engage with what’s on the news lately. breathe. you’re not a bad person for feeling overwhelmed; you’ll be alright. if you’ve been scrolling for too long, go get up and take a walk/have a glass of water. the internet isn’t going anywhere; your mental health comes first.

🌁 vanillacrypt

wise words from rokusbreastimplants

12,443 notes

🎀 nanayagi Follow

#soul king #brook #soul king brook #soul brother #soul sister #soul king fandom

1,349 notes

🪃🔁  criminaldildo reblogged bone2beasoulsister

👤  dressrosan-dreamgirl-deactivated20xx0714

I usually don’t like to delve into drama, but I can’t stay silent any longer. Mod Hebi of @fuckyeahmugiwaras is an EXTREMELY predatory individual. I will not be disclosing any of my sources, for my safety and theirs, as she has an irl documented history of hostility towards her critics.

To start, Mod Hebi is inappropriately fond of Straw Hat Luffy (who she met irl when she was in her 30s and he was 17). I’ve been told she’s tried to flirt with him on several occasions, given him large gifts, and tried to guilt him into choosing time with her over his female crewmates.

Literally kicks kittens??? I shit you not they say they’ve seen her straight up BARRELING kittens across the floor.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Keep reading

🦴  bone2beasoulsister  Follow

i believe it. the way she never updated about anyone else, only luffy, and left admin barto to do all the hard work… it was always off to me.

🪃  criminaldildo  Follow

where is this coming from??

yeahhh not going along with this until there’s ACTUAL proof. mod hebi is very much a solo stan but. kicking kittens… how are we supposed to take these cartoon villain allegations seriously 💀💀

🪃  criminaldildo  Follow

of course. deactivating when people question them.

#i know we stan criminals here but can we as a fandom please express some critical thinking for ONCE

8,385 notes

🏺🔁  00tsugi reblogged mad-gadfly

🎑  take-me-to-sea  Follow

scheduling my lobotomy at doskoi panda

234,291 notes

🌁🔁  vanillacrypt reblogged sailingacademic

🛳️  marines  Follow

Pursue truth. Fight for justice.

Do you have what it takes to join the Marines? Learn more at gonavy.🐌.

👒  fuckyeahmugiwaras  Follow

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🕊️  mad-gadfly  Follow

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🏺  00tsugi  Follow

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🦾  iron-hand  Follow

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⚔️  godofdoom  Follow

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💸  whitebaron  Follow

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🤡  histrio1ne  Follow

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🐭  zumuzumi  Follow

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🌋  rogerscrackden

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🪝  jolie-rougers 

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🪩  worldeconyamynews  Follow

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🍈  baddestinthesouth  Follow

115,875 notes

🥡  addtocatalogue  Follow

ppl in the “pirate fandom” who only orbit “safe” pirates like cavendish or boa hancock are WEAK. buddy if you saw the pirates i want to fuck you’d hurl.

#pirate fandom #pirates #if he’s eaten a fruit in the last week i do not want him

1,377 notes

💫🔁  sunsetsoveralabasta reblogged

💫  sunsetsoveralabasta  Follow

some homeless guy on horseback gave me a nice looking apple… im hungry and curious.

💫  sunsetsoveralabasta  Follow

hoptal

#in my defense the horse was very cute

874 notes

[arcane-vagabond]

I’m so glad you’re calling this out! People don’t respect boundaries and were made to look like the villains.

Tbh, I deleted the post you’re talking about after some confusion. I don’t think I worded some of it correctly, so I’ll rewrite it here.

I love supporting my friends and their fics. I love chatting with the fellow content creators one on one about their fics. I love talking about new ideas about the fics they want to write. When I reblog a fic with something along the lines of “Ah!! I’m so excited you’ve finally posted this! I’ve been waiting!!” It’s not because they mentioned it once on their blog, it’s literally because I have been talking to them in private chats about the work.

When someone I don’t really talk to or have never had a conversation with apart from the occasional one sentence reblog or comment starts tagging me in things? That’s where I have an issue. My blog is not a bulletin board or ad space for people to put their fics on. I try to reblog fics that don’t have very many notes, I really do (I’ve also been going through a bit of a reader’s block lately). I remember what it was like first starting out on this site as a first time fic author and being so excited to get ten notes on my fic. Now I’m nearing a milestone! I did that by tagging my fics with the proper hashtags and interacting with people who chose to read them. I never in a million years thought so many of you would want to read my silly little stories.

So believe me when I say, I totally get feeling wanting more people to see your fics. I wish more people saw mine too, but I’m very grateful for the people who stumble upon them and take the time to read them.

I also think it’s very interesting that when authors and other content creators on here set boundaries, we get such immense flashback from readers. We’re people, y’all, and the fact that we have to keep reminding everyone about that fact is, quite frankly, worrisome. We are not machines. We do not do this for a living. I do this for fun, and when I get push back for trying to set a boundary, whatever that boundary may be, it makes this less fun.

Again, I can’t speak for the other writers on there (but believe me when I say several conversations have been had), but for me personally? It all goes back to the fact that content creators are being stripped of their humanity. I remember how fun and interactive fandom used to be before everything started being monetized. I used to get asks left and right without even having written fanfic! Fandom used to be a huge community filled with laughter and debates like “did these two characters bang?” “That character is asexual and here’s why” “I wrote a fic that I think you might like and here’s the link. No pressure to read it though!”, not “here’s another update. Here’s another update.” “You haven’t posted in a couple of days, when are we getting an update?” “Will you read this and reblog it?”

Idk, I had this conversation the other day, and maybe I just need to accept the fact that fandom as I knew it is dead and gone. In another life, I would have really loved giggling about fics and headcanons with you all.

Anyway, can we please stop making content creators out to be the villains when they ask to be treated like human beings and not soulless machines?

[deandoesthingstome]

Fanfic Writer Wednesday

Yoohoo! Anybody home? I've been trying to reach you about your need for more fanfic in your life. It’s me. Charlie. C’mon. Open up...

Okay, well, lemme just leave this note here on your door. I have a piece of tape. It won’t mar the finish, I promise.

Last week I got myself caught up on this wonderful story, Blinded by the Fog, by @peyton-warren​ . It’s threatening to break my heart a little, but we’ll see where it goes. This week I want to remind you there is more to be had. Her masterlist has a few different characters available, from both Chris Evans and Henry Cavill (three-way of your dreams) as well as a little SPN (oh hey! I used to go there, too) and Stranger Things for good measure.

Personally, I love the Stick Handling series, which is less about hockey (like I originally thought) and more about spending your time with several men of your dreams. If you’re into that sort of thing. 

And then there’s this Walter thing I adore (Arresting and Arrested) and another (The Hidden Sun) I need to put my eyeballs on, because Walter is having a bit of a renaissance lately (can’t imagine why) and so I should check that out. You should too!

And look, some of the characters may not be your thing. But I challenge you to step outside of your comfort zone and try something new. You literally never know until you try. And how do you try? You click a link. You read a story. You like a story. You rate a story (give some feedback). You share a story (reblog, baby, reblog!) It’s what makes this Tumblr world go ‘round. It helps if you do your part.

As always...

[ruby-red-inky-blue]

hello! i mean this in the nicest way possible because i'm sure you're not trying to be mean but some of the things in your reblogs/tags recently kinda come across that way. i don't really like rebelcaptain fics or art where they have babies either, i agree that i don't think they would. but reblogging a post from someone who clearly does with additions saying you think that's wrong, or publicly talking in the tags about a specific post you think is "so wrong" when you could just block it silently, those both come across as pretty mean to the people who make those posts or share their headcanons. again, i don't mean to imply at all that you're trying to be hurtful, but it does kinda come across that way.

Hi anon, I’m sorry if it comes across as mean. I certainly don’t want to make anyone feel bad. But I do think I’m allowed to speak my opinions on a neutral topic so long as I a) don’t use any language that is hurtful (and I don’t think that simply saying I disagree with someone’s headcanon, however popular, qualifies as hurtful) and b) I don’t come specifically TO someone’s blog or someone’s post to shit over it in the tags. I wouldn’t do that. I’ve had others do that to me and it’s annoying at best and very hurtful at worst, especially when it’s someone’s art that they’ve poured their heart into, and I think it’s perfectly alright to ask people don’t do that. So… I didn’t!

These were the tags in question btw

And hey, yeah, just shutting up about something that annoys me but other people enjoy is free, and maybe I should have been the bigger person and done that. But tbh it was late, I was tired, and I’m not doing so hot right now, and I got a little salty on main - again, while making sure I don’t spoil anyone’s fun on the post in question but just by saying a thing in a separate post on my own blog, because people are allowed to enjoy things that I don’t! And I’m allowed to say “that’s cool but it doesn’t vibe with me at all”. That isn’t trying to be hurtful, anon, that is simply stating a fact (and honestly a boundary, because the idea of having children isn’t a happy thought for everyone! It can be upsetting to people for a multitude of reasons and I’m honestly tired of people ignoring that).

On the off chance this came from the op in question, btw, I’m very sorry you took offence, I obviously wasn’t dissing your hard work, skill or creative choices, but simply saying I didn’t love this one in particular and got a little upset that the post kept popping up on my dash and reminding me of an uncomfortable topic.

Oh, and if this is about the other headcanon post I made yesterday - you may be right I used a slightly too strong adverb? Small crime, I think, we’re all too passionate about fictional people here. But I did honestly feel like I was taking part in a discussion that people invite when they post their headcanon in the fandom tag, and op reblogged my post and didn’t seem to take offence either.

[monstersandmaw]

Ghostiiiiiiiii! It’s time for your random ask of kindness~

Your stories and posts are the only reason I open tumblr at all these days, they are all so detailed and unique and each one leaves me with such a distinct feeling (be that warmth, comfort, fondness etc). I can’t count the number of times I’ve read and reread your works. They consistently help to pull me out of whatever depressed funk I manage to get myself into.

You really go all out when you come up with the characters feelings and descriptions of the setting/plot. It plays out like a movie in my head, which is the best fucking thing ever! I’m seriously and eagerly waiting for the day that you publish your writing so I can tell my friends and order a physical copy to put on my bookshelf.

I feel like lately (and maybe this has always been the case and we’re just seeing a few) you’ve been getting an influx of nasty or entitled people in your inbox.. and you’re brilliant at dealing with them but I just would like to remind you that for every uncouth dickhead there are 10+ others who love and appreciate your work and all you do for us. We love seeing you get excited about stories, reblogging DA content/funny meme shitposts and sharing your really cool hobbies (seriously, chain mail is badass and I’ve always wanted to try making it).

I hope this message will at the very least make you smile- you deserve every kindness. You are amazing 💕

(P.S. don’t forget to drink some water, stretch and make sure you take breaks!)

-🇦🇺 (it’s good to be back)

Excuse me while I just scrape my gooey, ectoplasmic heart back up off the floor where it melted into a soft and wibbly puddle after reading this!!! What a beautiful message!!! Thank you.

I realise you didn't ask for advice on mail making, but if you do decide to have a go, the best weaves to start with are the classic 'chainmail' pattern of 4-in-1 (sometimes called European 4-in-1), and 'Byzantine'. I'm not on Facebook anymore but there used to be a really good and truly massive group dedicated to chainmaille (that's how jewellery folks like to spell it), which had some great resources for beginners. The website linked here has some fabulous info and tutorials (especially for beginners), and I'd recommend learning about aspect ratio (AR) so you can make weaves in whatever size you like. Lemme know if you actually want any info or help because I'd be very happy to tell you more if you like. (I know of this supplier for Aussies but have never used them myself for obvious geographical and shipping reasons).

As for actual physical book stuff, hopefully I'll publish Gabe & Odessa properly, and perhaps the fae story I'm working away on in the background (that, or the reworked 'Winter Solstice' story I started ages ago). We'll see, but it's always so reassuring to hear that people would be interested in buying something like that!! Thank you.

I just had two truly enormous mugs of tea, and I went for a walk earlier with Mr. Ghosti because it finally stopped raining for a couple of hours, so I've had a good break!.

You take care of yourself too, dear Aussie Anon, and thanks for sticking around and for taking the time out of your day (night?) to leave me this!

[small-strong-bookish-butch]

I posted 6,088 times in 2022

312 posts created (5%)

5,776 posts reblogged (95%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@clever-and-unique-name

@vjecitiapril

@biafandmentallyill

@defectivegembrain

@splashofcaity

I tagged 5,821 of my posts in 2022

Only 4% of my posts had no tags

#uncaptioned - 491 posts

#important - 381 posts

#omg - 379 posts

#reminder - 362 posts

#image described - 328 posts

#personal - 304 posts

#honestly - 294 posts

#<3 - 289 posts

#gender stuff - 279 posts

#words - 276 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#also are we ignoring the first like 20 minutes of the movie where the nuns straight up were like ‘it’s too bad maria is a plague upon me’ 🤬

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

All the little details in NITW that make it so intimate and personal…. Selmer’s little poems every day… the duskstars with Mr. Chazokov and the stories he tells about the famous people who got constellations named after them…. stealing the pretzels for the rat babies…. the nondenominational and bland big church… the black and white photos in the Borowski’s house… that you can’t run in the library or in the graveyard… that Mae and her parents are cats, and her dad calls her “kitten” as a nickname… reading the plaques on the old statues… the video game on the computer (that’s in the game itself??)… playing what’s essentially Guitar Hero in the band… the family portrait on the wall upstairs… the weird tunnel-fish-poetry guy who just talks to himself…

133 notes - Posted November 19, 2022

#4

Full fucking offense, but not everyone who uses butch and/or femme is a lesbian!! Not everyone who’s sapphic is a lesbian!! Not everyone who’s queer and/or LGBTQ and/or GNC is a lesbian!! Not everyone who’s butch is some skinny white AFAB person with abs who’s just barely ~masculine enough~ to still fit your stereotypes!! Two (or more) people who look like women being in a relationship doesn’t mean they’re lesbians!! Not everyone who’s GNC fits into some neat little box of ‘slightly masculine’ or ‘cottagecore feminine’!! People can be multiple genders (even ‘opposing’ binary genders) and still be butch or femme!! People can be transmasc and femme, and transfem and butch!! Not everyone who’s butch or femme is even sapphic, because they’re supposed to be inclusive labels!!

I appreciate that there are so many tumblr lesbians who are GNC, but for the love of God, it’s not just yours

155 notes - Posted August 17, 2022

#3

That’s my ✨emotional support song on repeat✨

214 notes - Posted August 25, 2022

#2

There are posts on here by other late diagnosed autistics about growing up autistic (without knowing it, or at least not realizing it was autism) in relation to loneliness, bullying, not fitting in, etc.

I keep thinking about how scared I am of interacting with people. Like that tumblr post about PTSD that says “it’s like if, when you went grocery shopping, sometimes you got mauled by a bear” (I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately).

Even if other people seem to be enjoying my company— even if they like talking to me in a certain situation— even if it feels like a mutual interest in communicating more/texting/etc. … there’s still that panicky, sinking feeling I have that I’m ‘being creepy.’

Are you sure they want to talk to you? Maybe you’re being weird. Maybe you’re making things weird by being here. Are you sure you’re not being creepy? Are you sure you don’t seem like you’re flirting with them? They’d probably like it better if you weren’t trying to talk to them, because you’re being weird and ruining whatever small ‘normal’ connections you have. You’re making things weird and they’re not going to want to talk to you anymore.

Online it’s much better, but I still worry that I’m ‘talking too much’ or sending too many posts or being too…. overly enthusiastic (?) about relationships, especially if the other person seems busy.

My therapist suggested this week that I change the language around “I’m not good at talking (about thing)”, and I couldn’t tell her, But I say it all the time because it feels like it’s true.

220 notes - Posted August 19, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Extremely fucked up that healing relationship- and attachment-based trauma does, in fact, have to happen by talking to other people

377 notes - Posted October 20, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[dyketennant]

okay re: post i just reblogged, it’s reminding me how other people i know don’t drink nearly as much water as i do (though perhaps sometimes they should since i live in one of if not the hottest cities in the u.s., been a while since i checked it) because i’m on ssri’s and thus get dehydrated way more easily. and because of that i don’t think people realize how stressful it can be to get water sometimes.

i went to a convention back in late may. here, temperatures already get up into the triple digits. and let me tell you, it was unnecessarily hard to find water once i was actually inside the convention. i think there were one or two big water coolers outside, but most people are gonna be inside because obviously it’s sunny and scolding hot outside, plus everything is happening inside anyways.

anyways, once inside, water bottles were like. $5 for a little 16-oz thing, which really isn’t going to last me long if i’m someone on ssri’s walking around in full cosplay. even then every food stand was usually a long line, which meant standing and waiting to even pay for the overpriced bottled water. if i wanted to refill my water bottle, i had to go find a little drinking fountain (they didn’t have those fountains specifically designed to refill water bottles, for some reason, in the year of our lord 2024), which were not labeled on the map or by any signage and were only located next to some of the restrooms, not all of them. and it’s a massive convention hall, too, meaning lots of walking between locations to even find water to begin with.

i cannot stress this enough: if you are hosting a convention in the hottest city in the U.S., where every year dozens if not hundreds or THOUSANDS of people die/are hospitalized from overheating and dehydration, and this is a fan convention where you know people are going to be wearing heavy costumes/layers, finding water needs to be the easiest thing on the planet. there needs to be water refill stations on every corner. people should be handing out free water bottles as i walk into the building. i should be running into so many places to get water it starts to get annoying, because the alternative is people passing out and needing first aid/urgent care at your extremely packed and busy convention, which clearly makes a fuck ton of money and should have solved this problem years ago. it’s genuinely embarrassing and inhumane to profit off of people’s need for drinking water like they do.

and this is just one specific example of this. do you know how many times i’ve been traveling/on vacation and have to spend a good amount of time on a trip worrying about where i’ll be able to fill up my water bottle? and i’m speaking from a fairly privileged position—what about unhoused people, or disabled people who physically can’t walk around and search for water like i can?

tl;dr it needs to be way easier to access clean drinking water when in public than it currently is and i’m bitter :)

[thegmdfangirl14]

I posted 183 times in 2022

That's 102 more posts than 2021!

11 posts created (6%)

172 posts reblogged (94%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@anti-cosmofangirl

@puccafangirl

@loimologia

@bubblyparaside

@a-little-ray-of-fantasy

I tagged 137 of my posts in 2022

Only 25% of my posts had no tags

#other person's art - 32 posts

#pmatga - 31 posts

#pacman and the ghostly adventures - 23 posts

#webcomic - 17 posts

#betrayus - 16 posts

#art - 14 posts

#cuphead - 10 posts

#centaurworld - 8 posts

#hadestown - 7 posts

#the cuphead show - 7 posts

Longest Tag: 133 characters

#maybe the reason why i developed a crush on him so fast is because some of his personality reminds me of other characters i like.....

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Birthday writing poll/ fanfic poll/contest results

(Yes, I know that it’s the 16th, instead of the 15th that I’m posting this today. I had class on the 15th, hence why the post is a day late)

Okay, now that it’s officially a few days past my birthday, it’s time for me to give the results for this little writing poll/ fanfic poll//birthday contest/pseudo-fiction selection thing that I have!! Even though I’m a day late, I guess it’s better late than never for 

And as for said results regarding what it is that I will be writing next ....well, there weren’t a whole lot of people commenting on the post that I originally made with what they wanted to see (probably should have been a little more specific with the voting thing),  so I’m doing a first-come, first serve basis here, so there isn’t a whole lot of back and forth stressing or anything.

So, here’s what I’m writing first  ..... and it’s category four, which was voted on by none other than the lovely @anti-cosmofangirl , who suggested seeing something from one of my original works (aka the book or books I’m trying to work on)!  Just let me know what you’d like to see more from my either one of my extremely in-progress books: Sweetness and Nightmares or Bleeding hearts, and I’ll either put out a rough prologue or a character profile type thing for the characters I’ve thought of so far! (Maybe both if I’m feeling creative or machoistic enough)

Next up from category    (I have literally forgotten who it was that suggested this, and I am extremely sorry), requesting a character analysis of none other than a certain infatious  hothead that is never far from the pmatga fandom’s thoughts.....Lord Betrayus himself!! And it should be interesting, 

As for all the rest of the categories?? Don’t worry, I’ll be doing them too! Although it might take me slightly longer to do them depending on time, my current levels of motivation, and life stuff, but I WILL get to all of them sooner or later don’t worry!!

Anyway, thank you guys for voting and taking part in this, and I’ll see you soon (hopefully) with some pretty neat stuff.....;)

3 notes - Posted March 16, 2022

#4

So as you can probably tell, I’m working one something....

6 notes - Posted October 5, 2022

#3

Here’s a vam-pair of my favorite dysfunctional animated vampires to hopefully make up for a lack of content......they might have not made it into the fan-art speedpaint that I submitted them to, but I’m still proud of them nonetheless! (Of course, it doesn’t hurt that Daria Cohen HERSELF actually liked my art either.... ;) )

18 notes - Posted August 2, 2022

#2

(Ooof....I haven’t done this in a WHILE, but here goes nothing I guess.)

So, as some of you probably know, I’ve got a birthday coming up in almost a week, and I’m going to be...21. Yeah.... It’s a little hard to believe, right? I’m officially going to be in my 20′s....holy crap. And while most of us are probably wrapping their heads around that, you’re probably wondering where I’ve been for the past little while. As life is known to do, it’s kind of been keeping me busy, and I’m still working on getting back out of my own head after things kind of not going so great for me on my own end (anxieties about aging and some other stuff...which definitely wasn’t fun at all) ....so yeah, things have been kind of crazy on my end. (But don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about my fic either, I’ll be coming back to it soon enough)

And in-between college stuff  and actually starting to feel  more excited about the big day, so I was thinking....Why not celebrate this occasion with a little something special?

It isn’t another contest in case you’re wondering, because I don’t think I’m doing a contest right now (due to recent world events and the pandemic that we’re still in, I’m not too sure if I want to save a potential fanart contest for a later date, or just somewhere in the year), but I still want to do something creative.... and what better way to do that than with doing a little fanfic/original work poll type thing     for the week before my birthday!

It works like this:  You guys can vote on what you’d most like to see from me, and whatever gets the most votes will be the thing that I next post here for you guys to read! Unlike a regular contest, there’s no real end date, unlike a contest, so I’ll play it a little loose with the time. So either I’ll close the voting the day after my birthday, or whenever you guys stop voting I’ll give the results!!

But what, you guys may be wondering, what’s the writing options here?  I mean, I have a few ideas.....here they are!

The categories are as follows:

1. A Betrayus x Valerie fic drabble! Because dang, I’ve been craving to do something with those two other than slow burn or having them at each other's throats. Gotta practice for the good stuff eventually you know? Anyway, here’s the proposed title for the fic.... Bitter and Sweet! It’s kind of a late Valentines day fic, focusing on some cute stuff! It’s no surprise to anyone in the Netherworld that Betrayus can get a touch....moody around a certain holiday (not such a big surprise here, but he hasn’t exactly had a ....great time around the holiday in the past), but maybe a certain horned girl can help.... that is, if she can actually remember how to work the stove.     

2. Character explorations! More specifically, pmatga characters! (Big surprise, am I right?) I’ve been itching to explore more of the world, whether it’s through some of my ocs (Valerie or Delphine) or characters we’ve already been introduced to (or in the case of a certain sister that was only mentioned in the last episode, yet to meet), so suggest away and I’ll do my best!            

3. Cuphead content! More specifically the reader insert type of content! I’ve got two different ideas, which both correspond to two different characters I’ve recently become fascinated by.... Backstage romance (A King Dice x reader drabble) and Something only we share (cuphead devil x reader). For this one I’ll just see which one you guys are more curious about, and then I’ll do my best to write from there! (And yes, it’s ironic I know, the Christian girl getting heart eyes over an animated devil character....)

4. Book related stuff! I’m planning on becoming a fully fledged writer with her own works (eventually), either mainstream-wise or self-published, and I’ve got two different ideas: Bleeding hearts (the name’s still in working), or Sweetness and Nightmares. One’s kind of a originalish work I’ve been sitting on for a little while (*Principal Skinner voice* What if I were to take the characters for my fanfic and just give them different names? Devilishly delightful..) and one’s sort of a middle-grade story featuring a girl raised by the Boogeyman, so chose which you’d like to see (or I could do both if you want), and I’ll put up the prologue for either one of the ideas, so you guys can see what you think of it!

5. Okay, I’ve got no real ideas for this one, but if you guys want I’ll start working on the next chapter for The Tale of the Horned Girl and The Ghost lord, so you guys don’t have to wait so long for it!

Anyway, vote on which category you guys most want to see, and I’ll do whatever category gets the most votes (although I’ll be eventually be doing all of this stuff anyways, sooner or later)!

Happy voting beasties, and I’ll see you soon.... ;)

18 notes - Posted March 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I’m into a new show you say? Now where could you have got that idea from?

82 notes - Posted April 18, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

Jeez, I need to start writing some stuff for next year.....

[lalunanymph]

‗ ❍ your uni-mate has a fascinating hobby and you couldn’t resist his invitation to follow him back home and see for yourself. except, it’s way worse than what you imagined. ┊ megumi x fem!reader

‗ ❍ EXTREMELY DARK CONTENT, hypnosis, noncon, blowjobs, facials, recording, humiliation, degradation, name calling (slut, baby), dacryphilia ┊3,874 words

‗ ❍ the final installment is here!! thank you sm for reading my kinktober works it was super fun drafting them up and hearing all your thoughts on it <;3 reblogs and feedback are much appreciated ┊ dawn's kinktober 2022 masterlist

University was the bane of your existence. 

You were convinced it existed for the sole purpose to torture you into submission; prime you for the working world where personal free time was slim and you had to sell half your soul for the promise of a respite to a corporation that would replace you in a heartbeat if you dropped dead.

It was partly why you had slacked off despite gaining a scholarship. You were just too damn tired to do anything but sit at the back of the lecture hall, daydreaming your life away while you scraped by with meager grades. 

However, as much as you wanted to deny that you were doing just fine, your supervisor had a different insight.

“Y/N, I need to speak to you.”

Sitting up straighter, you shot her an insincere grin. “Oh. Sure.” 

Ms. Yoko—also known as the resident bachelorette who was too attractive for her own good—flashed you a grimace, her pretty brown eyes glossing over with a veneer of neutrality. It hid the flitting emotions well, though you were versed in constantly walking on eggshells around people who were tense, courtesy of your explosive father and passive mother.

“I wanted to ask you how was everything.”

Her office was far too clean. Clinical. 

Neat-freak. 

The names you called her in your head were drowned out by the wave of resentment at those flashing pretty orbs staring at you in sympathy. A picture frame holding two grinning expressions filled with love shone from her desk, and you regarded them with cool distaste. Love made you sick to the bone. 

You hated any reminder of it.

From the opposite end of the desk, her gleam of sincerity never diminished. “Y/N, are you having family problems? Boy problems—sorry, girl ones, too? You know you can talk to me.”

You flitted your gaze towards her, antipathy coating your smile. “I’m fine, Ms. Yoko. Just a bit tired.” A brilliant lie came to you. “I pull shifts at the local bar and I’ve been a little burnt out. But, give me some time and I’ll be back on track.”

Her rose-blush lips tightened into a grimace. “I’m afraid it’s a little too late for that.” 

Disquiet surrounded the office. You were on high alert. “I’ve been informed by the Chancellor’s assistant that any student whose grades are suffering—especially if they are scholarship students—will have their aide retracted if their grades slip down below the 3.5 mark. And you’re inching towards a 3.45.” 

You swallowed your tirade, flashing her a smile. “Ms. Yoko, is there anything I can do to salvage my scholarship?”

She laced her manicured fingers together, grimacing. “I could put you back on probation until your grades pick up, or…” the pretty lecturer petered off as if deep in thought. “I could have you paired up with another Dean’s List student to make sure he or she keeps you right on track.” 

Inwardly, your groan resounded with such tiredness, you stunned yourself for a good few seconds. On the outside, you plastered on an amicable smile. “Of course. I will accept any help that I can get.”

Ms. Yoko’s shoulders unlocked and she leaned forward, a smile in place. “I have just the right person for you.” Her sincerity was scary, and it rubbed you the wrong way when she briefly pressed a hand to your shoulder. “I believe the both of you will work so well together. Trust me on this. Megumi is a good student and he’s a great teacher, too.”

Fushiguro Megumi.

Or, as you knew him, Mr. Know It All. He was insufferable as he was quiet, always with his wild array of inky locks down, nose buried in a book. Megumi was one of the top students in your university which said a lot considering the entrance exam itself had a failure rate of 68%. 

You were sure he was here not because of his delicate good looks or piercing blue eyes. But, you liked to pretend it was due to them that he was currently sitting opposite of you, eyebrow raised and pouty lips twisted into a frown.

“Ms. Yoko wants me to do what?” 

Look, the whole ordeal was as embarrassing for you as it was for him. But, why did his churlish nature make it feel like you were the one who had to carry the burden of shame solely on your shoulders? You fixed him with a mirrored pout.

“Tutor me.”

The words were hard to mutter. They tasted like poison in the back of your throat. 

You looked away when he did, both your quiet natures contrasting despite how rooted in similarity they were. 

“Are you truly that bad in your studies?” He poised it in a worrying tone, but you could hear the condescending sneer underneath it. 

“I’m sure—” you bit out, “—it’s because this whole semester is harder for me. Which is why she’s kindly asking you to help me out.”

He folded his arms, drawing attention to his lean muscles from the sleeves of his crew neck shirt hiking up. A moment of sullen silence passed between the both of you—two unwilling individuals who were stubborn enough to not back down from the distaste and humiliation of finding themselves locked in forced proximity to work together.

You always did find Fushiguro Megumi weird.

From his feminine sounding name to those comically large headphones that blocked out the world, he was as elusive and edgy as a self-proclaimed ‘outcast’ would be. Nevermind that his good looks would ensure he was accepted in whatever friendship circle he put his mind into breaching.

But, he was always alone. Never without his headphones, laptop and backpack. 

You were close to wondering if he even had any friends in the first place beyond a bubbly pink-haired stoner called Yuuji and Nobara, a cheerleader who was once caught by officials for carrying coke in the seat of her her thong during a frat party.

Neither of them were around him for much of the day, and you wondered just why he never reached out to speak to anyone.

If people were to ask you whether you had a crush on the elusive Fushiguro Megumi, you would’ve stabbed them with a blunt fork. The nerve of some of them to be right.

Since the first day you arrived for freshmen year, full of vitality and hopes of finding a place to belong, you had noticed Meguni and subconsciously tried getting closed to him. With your efforts failing at best, and humiliating you at worst. 

Megumi was someone not to be trifled with, and you recalled with aching clarity when he dismissed you with a hard glare that had you reeling when you tried to ask him how his weekend went. After that, he was dead to you as much as you were a stranger to him.

Until now, that is.

“Fine,” he mumbled, rubbing his forehead. His glare did not budge. “Meet me here tomorrow. I’ll walk you through anything you’re not sure of.”

A good start. Despite beginning on a wrong foot with him, Megumi was willing to put the past behind if you were, too. And you wanted to forget about the less than ideal moment you had first met him, preferring to switch up with a small smile and a nod. 

“Thanks, Fushiguro.”

He paused, turning his head slightly to the side to give you a look. 

“No problem.”

It was, indeed, a huge problem. 

You really did have honest intentions of befriending Megumi again after that disastrous first time you met him during freshman year. 

But, it seemed that no matter how many times you tried to extend the olive branch of piece, he would dismiss it with a roll of his eyes or a frown, telling you without words that if it were not for Ms. Yoko pairing the two of you together, he wouldn’t even speak to you in the first place. 

You were both seated in the common area, heads bent low, studying when his phone flashed. 

A quick glance at the dim screen had you scrunching your brow. Time to cleanse.

Mutely, you watched as he picked up his earphones and leaned back into the comfortable sofa, eye closed as his head tipped back and he started bobbing along to the music only he could hear. You waited for him to be done, politely averting your eyes. What a weirdo.

He set the headphones back down, and gave your curious stare a flippant one. 

“Yes?” 

The testiness in his tone should’ve told you volumes to not try his patience, but you couldn’t resist. Fushiguro was an enigma that you wanted to uncover. 

“What was that all about?” You gestured to his earphones.

Megumi didn’t answer you as much as he stunned you. He lifted the earcups and set it around your head. Silence filled you, and then, the lilt of a piano tinkering in the background started, calming and sweet. 

You felt your muscles relaxing, shoulders no longer hiked up to your ears from the stress of figuring out permutations and calculations.

He let you listen to the tinkling melody for a few more seconds, and the music ended the same moment your little study session was over. You tried not to let the disappointment crash into you, and swallowed down on a remark that the lovely music was over far too soon in favour of snorting.

“Time to cleanse?”

“I get stressed out sometimes and need to use music as a distraction,” he murmured.

Fair enough. Music did have the ability to touch parts of the brain our consciousness could not perceive.

You picked up your books and shut your laptop. “How’re you feeling about the test tomorrow?”

In typical Megumi fashion, he tilted his head to the side, verdant green eyes unreadable as he flickered them listlessly to your waiting ones.

“Should be a breeze.”

The next few days passed the same way. You would wrap up your classes, meet Megumi in the common room, and then spend hours bantering back and forth on the intricacies of formulas while his aloof countenance never wavered. It titillated you to some end. Megumi never gave into any of your teasing wiles or flirtatious innuendos, preferring to eye you over his calculus assignment with his brow raised.

Everyday, the same reminder would go off—time to cleanse—and he would lean back, nodding along to the soothing piano music and letting you listen in, too. 

One time, you asked him why he did that, and he looked you in the eye, his brow raised, and deadpanned, “Because I’m hypnotising you.”

You had laughed at what he said, and shook your head. Don’t fucking pull my leg, Fushiguro. 

Exam season was coming up, and you were doubling down on your efforts to pass your semester when Megumi made an odd request. “Come over to my apartment.” The other boy lived alone, and as far as you could tell, he was often far from campus, holed up in his shitty space. 

Throughout the whole time you both spent together, whenever Megumi would speak at length, it was about how easy it was for the mind to be brainwashed. “I’ve even tried it,” he murmured, toying with his headphone charging cable, his long lashes casting shadows across his cheeks. “Suprisingly easy to get someone to bend to your will. The government has been doing it for years.” 

“Are you fucking around right now?” you narrowed your eyes. “What’s with you and brainwashing? Doesn’t seem ethical or even real.”

“I could show you.” There was an implicit undertone of challenge in his words. Come and find out if you dare.  

It was your turn to raise a brow. “Is this your way of asking me out on a date?” 

Real subtle. The corners of his lips twitched.

“Only if you don’t bolt when I start showing you how this all works.” 

You extended your hand, bold in your declaration of fearlessness, despite how your heartbeat picked up at the thought of spending your day with Megumi in an enclosed space. It was a good thing he could not hear how loud your thoughts were rebounding and took your hand, gingerly pumping it once. 

“You have a deal, Fushiguro.”

The ambiguity of your relationship with Megumi thrilled you to no end. 

Despite how much you told yourself you were over men who did not feel the same way as you, or that you were done chasing the promise of a high in the form of their reciprocation, you could not help but feel that Megumi was just a little shy and needed to be coaxed out from his shell.

You’ve seen the way he looked at you—half mast dark green eyes sparking heat straight to your core. He would smile in your direction when he thought you did not notice, and sometimes, would even pick up your favourite order from your neighbourhood cafe when you were both burning the midnight oil.

Megumi did have a thing for you. And you were so damn sure he would admit to it tonight.

On his behest, you had arrived at eight on the dot, wearing a tank top, mid-length skirt and a nervous smile. You twisted a ring on your finger, the same one you had worn since the day your mother passed on, and stilled your nerves with a deep breath. 

Knocking on the chipped wood, you waited for a few seconds. Heavy footsteps sounded, and you were greeted by a familiar mop of disarrayed inky locks. Megumi looked like he had just stepped out from a shower, his skin faintly pink from the heat and a freshness to his otherwise sullen demeanour.

He quirked a half-smile, angling his body to the side and gesturing for you to enter.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you replied, stepping past him. 

“You look nice.”

You thanked him cordially and followed when he led you down the hallway, straight to a small kitchenette. Megumi had a pot of pasta on the stove, and two wine glasses were brimming with a rich, deep red, ready for you to sit and enjoy.

The both of you ate a light meal and drank til your vision started swimming at the edges. Halfway through the dinner, you realised he had taken your hand and was rubbing his thumb into the soft flesh of your wrist.

“Can I show you my basement?” 

Something about the way he poised that question made you crack a snort. “Okay, Dahmer. That’s not where I thought this was going.”

Megumi smirked, understanding your implications. “I thought I could bring you there first, if you don’t mind.”

You were too hazy on the wine to think your hesitation through. Nevermind that his apartment on the first floor led straight into a cool, dark basement with exposed wiring and a chilly draft that had you tightening his hoodie around your shivering form.

The space was cosy, despite the slight air of neglect, and it was because of the little corner he had set up with his PC and stack of books. “I come here sometimes to think.” 

A narrow window let in silver streams of light, and you watched in awe when he booted up the desktop and handed you his headphones. 

You gingerly took it from him, wondering if he was still adamant on keeping up this charade. He honestly didn’t have to, considering that you were already here, waiting and eager to get into his bed. There wasn’t a need to drag things out and try to impress you, not when you were standing in front of him, waiting to be taken.

But, he did not seem to understand the result of this chase like you did, and shot you a smirk. “Let’s see if you still doubt me.”

He placed the earphones over your head, and you waited. The quiet seemed even more unsettling now, and you could hear how ragged your breathing was.

Then, the piano notes started to play. 

You instantly felt a rush of calm, and your shoulders drooped, relaxing against your will. There was a difference to the cadence of the notes this time, a little more jagged and jaunty. Haunting. You were sure this wasn’t the same recording he played for you all the time in the study hall.

It unnerved you, almost made you bolt from where you stood, but his grip on your wrist held you still.

Give yourself to me, the notes seemed to sing. Give yourself up to me. 

You felt your fight sap out like a stream, every fibre of your being rooted to the spot, listening to those haunting words over and over again. Megumi’s hand moved from your wrist to rope around your waist, dragging you into the seat of his lap. 

Vividly, you recalled your eyes closing when warm stamps shaped like his lips touched the hollow of your throat, trailing down to your collarbones and in between your breasts. You were hopeless to do anything, your mind playing a singular loop of that jaunty tune and eerie words.

His hands were now underneath your skirt, removing your panties and tossing it to the ground. You were hopeless to stop him from kissing you, your pliant mouth opening on instinct and allowing his tongue to plunder in and take. Teeth clacking together, strings of spit that connected both your lips, your fuzzy mind was no longer in the front seat when you nibbled on his lower lip.

Megumi’s hips were rutting up into yours, and you gasped, the sound muffled over the audio. Your whimper was muted, too, when the crown of his cock started to grind against your sensitive clit. He touched your cheek, turning your face towards him to kiss down your jaw, the squelch of your sex audible even to your covered ears.

Slowly, you felt your defences start to fall, and Megumi could sense it, too. He removed the earphones from your head, letting it fall to the ground and a cold silence descended, wrapping you in its numb arms, like his embrace. 

From the glassiness in your eyes to your slightly parted lips, he could tell you weren’t at all there in your mind. Now, he could move on to the second part of his devious plan.

“Get on your knees, baby.”

Not even an iota of resistance was in you when you slid to the ground. 

“Take off your top and skirt.”

You followed his every word like a mindless slave, no thoughts in between your eyes. Strings of drool dripped down your chin, needy whines slipping out of your mouth. Completely cockdrunk even before he put his dick in you.

Megumi hummed in approval, using the tip of his toe to part in between your folds. “Your bra, too, slut.”

You complied in a rush, unclipping the pesky material and letting it melt off your ready body. He nudged you back onto the ground and your back met the cold floor, legs spread wide for him. 

“Look at you,” he breathed, inky bangs falling in his face. You whimpered when he started to stimulate your clit with his toe, slipping it in between your soaked seam, teasing the tight opening of your pussy by stretching it out with just the tip. 

No woman in their right mind would comply with being treated this way, and Megumi knew this. His perverse desires were the stuff of horrors that scared many a girlfriend away from his life, and when life gave one lemons, he had to improvise.

The binaural beats over piano tunes he played for you over the course of the weeks was laced with a sedated subliminal to get you pliant and ready for him. Trusting and not fighting him off when he invited you over and struck while the moment was fire-hot and ready.

“Suck me off.”

You got back onto your knees, glassy eyes making his dick twitch when you dragged the zipper down and started mouthing him over his underwear. Megumi was a lot thinner and longer than most men, and you struggled to take him down, gagging a little when the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. 

“That’s it,” his half-lidded gaze was sparking with intensity at your mouthful of him. “Take me down like a good girl.”

His praise sparked something primal in you, and your jaw was starting to hurt, but you pushed it away for him. Pleasing Megumi was at the top of your agenda, and you swore nothing else in the world mattered but his approval. 

“Lookin’ so pretty on your knees,” he swore he was not a babbler, but something about your eagerness infused him with a dominant thrill he had never felt before. “I’m gonna make this moment last.”

By that, he meant removing his phone from his back pocket and starting the camera. The shine of his flashlight stung your eyes, making you wince. But, you did not stop sucking him off.

“Touch yourself,” Megumi’s voice was edged with desperation, his mind unrivaling from how easily you complied. “Show me how you touch that pretty pussy, slut.”

You dipped your fingers in between your soaked slit, nudging circles around your throbbing clit while deep throating him like it was nothing. The phone in his hand shook, stuttering the flashlight over your soaked mouth and shiny cheeks. 

“Cryin’ already for me?” 

“Mhm hmm,” you moaned around his cock, nodding your head. 

“So pretty.”

I need to cum. Your thoughts were laced with disbelief at how easily you succumbed to him; how little he had to do to get you taking him down while fucking your pussy with two trembling fingers. 

Megumi’s brow was pinched, his pretty lips parted and even prettier moans expelled from the depths of his chest.

“G’na cum,” he whispered harshly, and you were a marionette to his whims, bobbing your head up and down faster, the wet slicks of his cock hitting the back of your throat loud in the quiet. Coupled with his heavy breathing and low groans, you were sure your pussy was going to combust from the heat of his weighted stare and dense balls slapping your chin.

Megumi stilled your movements, tugging your hair back and you released him with an obscene pop. Using his free hand and the other with the phone camera still trained on you, he pumped his spit-coated length, a low groan tumbling from his swollen mouth as hot ropes of white landed on your parted lips.

The camera caught every lewd string, every twitch of his dick spurting out dribbles of white onto your willing face, your hazy eyes speaking volumes of how fucked out you looked.

He did not stop his humiliation, smearing his sticky and musky cum over your features, dipping his fingers into your waiting mouth for you to suck them clean.

“Good girl,” Megumi praised, cheeks tinted pink. He stopped the recording, his breaths evening out, while yours was still labored, your pussy aching for relief. 

“I think this will be the perfect video to send Ms. Yoko for your final report, don’t you think?”

Disclaimer: The content you consume is your responsibility. If you chose to read this story till the end and are currently triggered by it, your trauma response is none of my concern as adequate warnings were already put in place. That said, do leave a review and reblog this post if you liked it, thank you! ♥️

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost my visuals, gifs or work and claim it as your own.

[jadedvibes]

In honor of spooky season, sweater weather, and all things autumn, I'm hosting my first writing challenge! I started writing nearly a year ago because I was inspired by the beauty of the season, and I thought why not organize something where others could join in and celebrate the many aspects that make this time the best.

For the challenge, I'd like you to incorporate some fall vibes and activities into a fic or moodboard. It can be anywhere from taking a stroll down a leafy street with your fictional fave, baking together, cozying up by the fire, wearing their flannel, visiting a pumpkin patch, or watching a scary movie; anything that reminds you of this enchanting time of year plus a little catch I’ll describe below 🍂🎃🧡

This writing challenge will open today and has no deadline.

Rules, guidelines, and optional prompts are under the cut! 

Rules: 

Must be 18+ or older. 

You don’t have to follow me to participate.

There is no deadline, follow your muse. 

No incest/pedophilia/necrophilia/bestiality/ddlg/water sports/💩

Please tag any and all potential triggers with proper warnings e.g. (Fluff, smut, dark etc.) 

Original works or must be able to be read as a standalone if it’s part of a series.

If you want to withdraw at any point, it’s no problem just lmk!

Guidelines:

There is no minimum or maximum word count.

If your fic is over 200 words please use the “read more” function.

You can write for any Marvel character, in universe or in any AU. I’ll also read for whatever SS and CE character you’re into except Jeff Gillooly and Tommy Lee. You may also write for Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson or a Top Gun: Maverick character. No RPF, please. Also no OFCs, reader inserts only.

Send me an ask letting me know that you want to participate, then tag me when you post and tag your fic or moodboard with #fallinginlovewritingchallenge 

And the catch that makes this a challenge is – the words “falling in love” MUST come up in your entry at least once if you’re writing. You can change it to past or present tense e.g. (“fell in love” or “fall in love”); whatever variation you need to fit the vibe you’re creating.♡

I will read and reblog your work before adding them to a masterlist!

And feel free to send me an ask or dm if you have any questions or if I can help you better understand the season. I'm so excited to see what you all come up with!

Please note that you don’t have to use the prompts and au’s, they’re just there for inspiration and more than one person can use the same one ✨

Prompts:

“You’re comfy.”

“I’ll be here to protect you.”

"Here we are, home sweet home."

“Stop flirting.”

“Are you sure?”

“Do you like what you see?”

"Let’s go somewhere, just you and me.

“Your hands are warm.”

“I can’t sleep, can I stay here?”

“I’ve been waiting all my life for you.”

“I know you still love me.”

“Fancy seeing you here. 

“I know what you need. Hold on.”

“I’m scared.”

“Are you… jealous?”

"Baby, I could do this all day."

“I can’t think straight with you.”

“Give me a chance.”

“Am I too late?”

“You’re dangerous.”

AU’s:

Vampire

Werewolf

Roommates

Coffee Shop

Florist

Baker

Bookstore

Soulmate

Modern

Neighbors

Thank you @bucky-barnes-diaries, @maladaptivexxdaydreaming, and @treatbuckywkisses for helping me, encouraging me, and listening to me ramble about my ideas!!

Tagging some pals that might be interested, but absolutely no pressure! ♡

@writing-for-marvel @summerofsnowflakes @tuiccim @sweetdreamsbuck @poppunksnowwhite @jobean12-blog @sunshinebuckybarnes @beach-daydreaming @weekendgothgirl @navybrat817 @mrsmischief209 @sgt-seabass @yarnforbrains @traitorjoelite @sweetascanbee @musingsinmoonlight @sanguineterrain @late-to-the-party-81 @sexyprise @intrepidacious

[itsamendesmadness]

Jacob Elordi x reader (female) part 3

Summary: Did y/n finally get that kiss?

Warnings: mature content🚩

WC: 789

a/n: i’m nervous for this one because it’s my first time writing this type of material. Also I changed my username to “itsamendesmadness”. I’ve been in the works of writing something for Shawn. As always, let your imagination fly. 🪶 (remember to reblog if you want to see more of this work)

The wind caresses your cheeks as you stare at the starry night. You begin to rethink your fear of heights, it turns out it’s not as bad as you thought or maybe it’s just that he makes you feel safe wrapped around his arms. You feel the warmth of his breath on your head as he exhales. You move your head from the peaceful soft harmonies and place it on his shoulders near his neck, trying to see if he would sneak in a kiss. “It’s so beautiful. This reminds me of the time I visited New York for the first time with my mom.” he says. You lift your head a little and say “how old were you?”. Jacob responds with a nostalgic smile on his face “eight”. You face him and respond “I would’ve been scared shitless being up there so young.” You mutter under your breath as you face out “I’m scared right now”. He cackles “sometimes you gotta appreciate beauty from a higher perspective”. You face him and respond “you can say that, you’re very tall”. You laugh unitedly and he plants his hand on your thigh. The pressure from his hand makes you want to do crazy things to him. You feel your cheeks turning hot.

The cab reaches the final stop. “Let’s go walk on the pier,” he says. He walks out first and extends his arm to help you get out. You made it safely to the earth's ground, you could kiss the floor right now. Now you can really concentrate and make most of the time you have left with him. He lets go of your hand and places it around your waist. You can feel his soft skin melting on yours. You can't even explain how good that makes you feel.

As you walk around the pier you start to become cold. “I’m gonna get my hoodie from my car”. You say to Jacob. “Where’s your car? We can go together. It’s too late for you to be walking alone.” he says persistently. “ I’m not that far. I’m right in front of The Green Cafe” you say.

“Here she is my beloved (y/c/n/n)”. You press the key once, open the back door and bend over the back seat to get your hoodie. It seemed to be stuck on something so you started pulling hard to get it out, moving your body back and forward. You could feel his piercing eyes on your ass. Jacob sees you struggling and reaches in to lend you a hand. “Let me help you” he says, almost kissing your ear. As you pull the hoodie your body collapses together. You could feel his hard member on your leg. He pulls back with the hoodie in his hand. “Here you go” he says, laughing and blushing. He puts the hoodie over your head and lifts your chin up leaning in for a kiss. You could feel butterflies talking over your body. He makes out with his warm lips as he pushes your body to the backseat. You place your hands softly on his face as he brings down his hand to your right leg. He stands close to your legs and starts opening them with his knee. You spread and scooch back a little so he can inspect you with no interruptions. He began to slide down your zipper slowly and looked up at you as he did so. He began to rub your bud, you could feel your walls clenching in pleasure. He slid two fingers and started feeling out your wet flaps. The movements started to increase feeling every muscle in your body react. You whined and groaned, throwing your head back on the head rest. Jacob looks at you with a proud smirk knowing you would surrender soon and fill his hand with cum. “Let go…Come on.” he said with his face moist with sweat. You move your hand and dig your nails on his unoccupied arm. Your legs begin to tremble and your eyes start rolling back in pleasure. With that your moans become louder and louder. His hands become completely wet with what’s seeping out of you. “Fuck, you squirted.” he said smirking proudly, as he takes his wet hand out of your pussy. Your entire face starts feeling as if it’s close to the sun and put your shaky hands covering your face feeling embarrassed. “Stop, come on.” he says as he retrieves your hands out of your red face and kisses your forehead. “ My hand is cramping up but it was totally worth it.” he says laughing just to tease you. You push him off you. “Shut up, jerk” you say, smiling at him.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

chamomile, chapter ten

A/N: the gif in the moodboard is by @radioactive-creative-bug

summary: late night check in to see how the doctor is doing

warnings: references to 6x19, emo boi reid (someone please, I can't be the only one who just stared belting the Ayesha Erotica song💀), almost kiss, regency romance novel level yearning

word count: 873

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

previous chapter - series masterlist - next chapter

Finishing up the last bit of your ginger ale, you walked determinately out of your hotel room and towards the doctor’s door. You couldn’t fight the fact anymore that this case was hitting too close to home for him. You hadn’t been the only one on the team who’d noticed. Everyone had been staring at him, watching him, and even Morgan had not so subtly had a talk with him in the bathroom. 

You had a vague idea of why it was getting to him. You had read his file and it did say a fair amount about his mom, who she was and what she was dealing with, so putting two and two together, you could see how this particular case was so difficult for him to get through. 

Softly, rhythmically, you knocked on his door and it didn’t take long for him to answer.

“Y/l/n, hey,” he greeted, sounding somewhat surprised at your presents. 

“Hi,” you flashed him a warm smile, “can I come in?”

“Um, sure,” he moved aside for you to enter.

“You’ve been quiet today,” he kept his vision low at your observation, staring at his shoes, “you have been quiet.”

“Yeah,” he breathed out and closed the door behind you.

Sitting down on the edge of his bed, you looked up at him, “Reid,” cocking your head to the side, “are you okay?”

“Did Morgan talk to you? Is that why you’re here?” he buried his hands in his pockets, “to check up on me?”

“No.” you shook your head and then let out a heavy sigh, “Reid, I’m here because I’m worried about you.” Scooting to the side a bit more, inviting him to sit down next to you, “do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“Do you wanna talk about Prentiss?”

“No.” he took a seat next to you on the mattress, “I don’t want to talk.”

“Okay, then what do you want? What do you need? We don’t need to talk, we can just sit here in silence and just be.”

For a moment he just sat there, staring at you, no doubt making a pro-con list in his head on whether or not he should open up his mouth. “I-… ever since what happened to Emily,” he started slowly, “I feel like I have no control over anything in my life. I feel like everything is falling apart. Everything I touch crumbles and dies and there’s nothing I can do about it. I can’t sleep, I concentrate. I feel useless.”

“Reid, how could you feel useless? You sweep in and save the day on every single case. Without you, we wouldn’t catch a single unsub. You’re good at everything-”

“Not everything. Have you seen me out in the field?”

“You’re not that bad,” now that you think about it he was either as good or even a bit better than you were. 

“Yeah, but I’m not good. I should be good, I wanna be good.”

“You can be if you want. It’s just a skill like any other.” Then quietly added, “If you want, I could probably get you a key to the gun range.”

“You could?”

“Have you met the guys who work down there?” you turned your body to face him more, picking one leg up off the floor and onto the bed, “Bill is nothing compared to the reporters I have to deal with on a day to day, so yes, that would probably be the easiest thing I’ve done all month.”

“Thanks,” you physically saw some of the weight being lifted off his back, “really.”

“You’re welcome. Just promise that when you become Annie Oakley you’ll teach me all your ways,” you joked, nudging him playfully in the side.

“Deal,” he chuckled lightly, catching onto your hand, making it stop its light teasing.

Then came this moment, this second where everything was calm. Everything was good. He was just holding your hand, and everything seemed possible. Getting lost in his dark eyes felt inevitable. You couldn’t fight it, not in this moment. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, coaxing you in deeper. It wasn’t till you saw him move closer, that you were ripped out of the honeycomb fantasy and back into reality. The reality where you noticed just how bloodshot his eyes were. 

Things had just gotten good again. You couldn’t slip back. You couldn’t let him break your heart again. He was hurting a needed comfort, but in doing that you would just make his proclamation that much more correct. If he touched you again, you would surely crumble and die. Even if it would feel good for a moment, it wouldn’t last. You were his friend. He wouldn’t ever see you as anything more. 

So right before his lips could touch yours, you placed your hand on his chest and whispered, “Spencer.” 

Pausing, his eyes flickered up from their view of your mouth and looked into yours.

“We can’t,” your voice shook slightly. 

It looked like you’d just poured cold water over him because he immediately straightened up, “I’m sorry…” he removed his hand from yours, “I should probably go.”

“Spencer,” you called after him as he practically bolted out the door, “this is your room.”

next chapter

© 2022 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[marvelsbanner]

Part of a Team

Summary: Wanda is the newest Avengers recruit and she’s having a hard time finding her place in this new life- maybe she can find it in you?

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x y/n, you

Warnings: Brief mention of death and blood, minor language (if you squint theres kind of compromising situations? nothing outright sexual)

Word Count: ~2700

A/N: Reblogs, likes, and comments are VERY much appreciated, all mistakes are my own! xx 

**I don't own marvel and if I did Natasha would be alive**

Something was wrong. You were just in Strucker’s lab- just on the trail of one of the enhanced twins. The alarms were going off around you and your boots clanged on the metal floor- before you froze in your place, a red haze overtaking you and suddenly you were thrown into the daylight.

-

You felt tingles run through your veins and down your spine; your head throbbed. You felt vulnerable, seen. What the hell is going on-

You’re in the forest, you think. No- there are rocks. Big rocks-

Focus.

No, not rocks. Graves. Gravestones. Where the hell are you?

You drag your heavy feet over to the nearest, it takes a moment for your vision to focus.

Who’s grave? Who’s grave? Oh god.  No no no- this, this can’t be-

Natasha Romanoff.

You felt like throwing up. This couldn’t be real. You dragged yourself to another stone situated nearby: Clint Barton. Beloved husband, father, and friend.

It felt like you couldn't breathe, you were just there with them. You were just there.

Your body jerks as cold hands grab your shoulders and spin your body to face them-

Steve.

You throw your arms around his neck, “STEVE! Oh god Steve! You’re okay- you’re.. cold” you feel something wet and sticky on your hand, pulling it back and seeing red. So much red.

“Steve..” you quickly stumble back, tripping in the process. It’s then you see- it’s too late. His body was grey and lifeless. He falls onto his knees and then collapses totally. You scream and scramble backwards, head hitting another gravestone in the process.

You turn to face it, to read another name of one of the team members you’ve come to call family- but it's not one of theirs. It’s yours.

It’s your name. A graveyard for the Avengers, Earth’s mightiest heroes.

Suddenly your body jolts and you take a sharp intake of breath- your ears are pounding. Everything hurts. But you see her- the enhanced. She’s looking at you with a look you can’t describe. It’s not fear, it’s not anger.. Pity? Empathy? You can’t look away from her, the glowing red eyes capturing you as their prey.

And then there was black.

-

A few weeks later and you’re back at the tower. Things have changed- the entire world has changed, really. The battle opened up new doors- literal new doors to new realms- that the world had previously thought impossible.

The team had expanded, with Steve’s friend Sam joining the team, as well as Vision, the synthezoid that helped the team to defeat Ultron.

There was also her.

Wanda Maximoff was one of the enhanced twins from Strucker’s experiments, you eventually learned. It was voluntary, but after learning about her backstory you think you would have done the same in her place. 

She lost her brother- Pietro- in the battle and she took it hard. She didn’t come out of her room when she could help it. Clint was rather protective over her, maybe it was the fatherly figure coming out of him- maybe he was feeling guilt over being the one Pietro sacrificed himself to save. Either way, he was able to get her out of the room a few times and get her to eat. Vision also struck up a strange friendship with the girl- but then again, Vision was easy company, and rather empathetic for a synthezoid.

Everybody took a hit from when Wanda messed with their heads, some more than others.

You didn’t talk for a week.

Didn’t even talk with Clint’s kids when they wanted to play with you.

You didn’t hold it against her. She proved what a valuable asset she was to the team as she fought alongside the group. She did what she thought was right at the time, and that’s not something you could hold against anybody.

Ever since the Battle, Wanda has been staying in the Avengers facilities with the rest of the group, an official Avenger, but you could tell she was still uneasy around the team. She only talked when she was directly talked to and didn't come out of her room but for a few times a day for food and training, sometimes not even then.

And then there was you.

She seemed to avoid you like the plague. You weren’t even sure you two made eye contact for the entire first few weeks she was there.

At first you thought she just didn’t like you, that something about you rubbed her the wrong way, or something you had done had offended her.

But it was her eyes that gave it away- the same soft look that she gave you right after exploring the deepest and darkest parts of your mind that day at Strucker’s lab. She knew from the second it happened that she had hit a deep nerve, and she would continue to give you that damn look every time she thought you didn't notice her.

But you always did.

You couldn’t help it, the way you were drawn to her. She reminded you so much of yourself before joining the team, broken, and alone in your head. You wanted to know her. You wanted to be there for her, be someone to her, you didn’t want her to keep walking on eggshells around you.

And so, you told her.

You found her in the kitchen late one night. She was wearing flannel pajama bottoms and a garnet tank top with a plain gray robe overtop. Her hair was a mess, roughly shoved into a ponytail and her hands were cupped around a mug. She was blowing on what looked to be dandelion tea, and as you got closer the fragrant earthy smell confirmed your suspicions.

She looked adorable.

And slightly startled to find you alone with her.

“Evening” you said as a greeting as you made your way to the counter top.

She gave a tight-lipped half smile with a timid “Hi” before going back to blowing on her tea. She made a slight movement that looked like she was going to try to slip away before you continued,

“You did really well in training the other day. Cap can’t give you enough praise” you say, taking a seat on one of the counter barstools.

She looks puzzled for a moment over your attempt at small talk before getting out a “Thank you.”

You both stood there in silence for a moment, just looking at each other, feeling the air grow thicker with each second ticking by.

“I like the pajamas” you say with a small smirk. You yourself were still dressed for the day in your leather jacket and black jeans. You could have sworn you saw flush creep up her neck before she swallowed it down with a sip of her tea.

There was another silent moment as she gave you a quizzical look, “I don’t quite understand what’s happening here.” She says with a vague hand gesture to the space between them.

You gave a slight chuckle, it was very on-brand for Wanda to be straight to the point.

“Look, Wanda,” You rotated your body on the stool to face her more comfortably,

“I see the way you look at me when you think i’m not looking. You avoid me at any given opportunity, I actually think this has been the most words we’ve exchanged in your whole time living here.”

She raised her ducked head to look you in the eyes and gave a small shake to her head, “I don’t understand.”

You don’t break eye contact, but simply offer a small smile as you reply “I’m not afraid of you, Wanda. And I don’t hold anything from that day against you. All is forgiven, and I would like to move past that. I understand you believed everything you were doing was for the right reasons, and the only thing that it shows me is your dedication and loyalty to a greater cause. Even if it was the wrong one at the time.”

She looked shocked, to say the least. Her mouth slightly opening and closing as she pondered what to say in response.

“You all should be afraid of me. You see the chaos I’ve created and you think you know what I can do,” her voice caught before she continued, “But the truth is I don't even know what i'm capable of. I don’t belong here.” she says softly.

You give a sad smile before slipping off of the stool and moving closer to her.

“We all thought that, at one point or another. We’ve got a whole freak circus here, we’ve got more baggage than Delta flies in a year- that's, that's uh, an airline. My bad.” You elaborate after she gives you a puzzled look, holding back a smile at your stuttered explanation.

“Aaand I ruined the moment.” You give a small chuckle, before continuing “But my point still stands. Nobody belongs here more or less than anyone else. We’re all just here, that's the truth of the matter. We’re just a bunch of unlucky misfits trying to figure out how to work as a team. Just give it a try, and maybe you’ll find you fit in better than you imagined you would.”

At some point during your speech you had moved close enough to take her hand, and you look down at it now, blushing before going to move it away.

Before you could, she gives your hand a squeeze before moving in to place a gentle kiss against your cheek.

“Thank you, y/n.”

And with that she slips away to her room, leaving you alone with your racing heart and her lukewarm mug of tea.

-

The next morning you found yourself awake bright and early for another morning training session with Nat and Steve- but you had a guest this time.

“Wanda” you greeted, which she returned with a timid “Good morning.”

“I’m glad you could make it” you say, sincerely.

“I decided to take your advice.” She replies with the smallest smile pulling at her lips.

The two of you stood there for a moment, just taking each other in before Steve cleared his throat, “Alright, we should get started then. Wanda, I'll spar with you to start. Nat, you take y/n. Try not to kill each other, please.” He said with a humored smile.

You make your way towards the corner with Nat on your heels. She gives you a quizzical look with a raised brow, glancing between you and Wanda. You roll your eyes and shake your head, only responding with a pointed “Later,” before your legs sweep under hers and an arm wraps around her torso, flipping you both to the ground and landing with you on top of her.

“Using my own move against me, that’s a low blow y/n.” You both laugh, and you barely respond with a “I learned from the best” before she wraps a leg around your waist and grabs your wrists with one hand, flipping you over and pinning you to the ground. She winks and replies “Damn right you did.”

It went like that for another half an hour, the two of you going back and forth battling for the upper hand. Natasha was the one who had trained you since the beginning, and you could almost say you were near her equal now. Well, you could at least give her a run for her money in a spar.

The two of you were panting and glistening with sweat, cheeks flushed from the exercise when she gave you a mischievous wink and called out to the other two, “Hey grandpa, I think I’m done getting my ass kicked by y/n for the day. I want someone easy, come spar with me”

If looks could kill, the look you were giving her would have the assassin dead on the floor.

Steve only looked amused, grabbing a towel to wipe his own sweat as he responded “Bring it on, Romanoff. Try not to break anything, though. I’ve been told they want my bones for the Smithsonian” Nat rolled her eyes and gave a pointedly fake laugh before they made their way to the other side of the gym, leaving you and Wanda alone.

“Hi” you greeted. She responded with a small smile and a “Hi” in return.

She looked as though she were still catching her breath, the rise and fall of her chest was noticeably fast and her face was still adorned with a glisten of sweat and pretty pink flush.

The same flush you saw from her last night, standing in the kitchen with the dim light around her.

Oh God you were in deep now.

“Nat and I were just wrestling around, hand to hand combat kind of stuff, but I see you and Steve were boxing so it's up to you what you’d like to do.” you say quickly.

“Well.. I do have this,” She waves her hand to show her flicker of red powers “for missions, so I don’t think I really need that kind of training.” She says with a smirk, “But I admit, you seem like a good teacher. Maybe.. some basics?”

She was pushing it. Pushing at this, the same way you were pushing last night. Alright, maybe you could run with this.

You give her a teasing smile, “Alright then. We’ll start slowly. May I?” You ask, reaching out for her, but not quite touching.

“By all means” she says, and you can feel the familiar flush creeping up your neck again. You release a puff of breath and shake yourself out of your thoughts before stepping closer to Wanda, and in one fluid motion you had one leg behind hers, your left arm resting against her upper chest and your other at the small of her back, pushing her flush against yourself.

You could hear the small gasp she let out, smirking to yourself.

“This is a simple take down, easy to get out of, but good for beginning. Now i'm just gonna pull you down as slowly as I can-”

You bring her left leg out from under her and carefully let the two of you sink to the floor, leaving you straddled on top of her and pinning her arms to the ground. The air suddenly felt a lot warmer.

You meet her eyes, breath hitching as you feel her pulse quicken beneath your touch.

You clear your throat and begin again, “Like I said before, it’s easy to get out of, but you want to keep the element of surprise. Use your opponent's body weight against them, if you can twist your wrist to slip it out of their grip and use your hips to to flip-”

Before you could even finish she had you pinned beneath her, wind knocked out of you from the impact.

“Like that?” she said, looking down at you through hooded eyes, thick accent teasing- flirting?

You were suddenly very aware of your close proximity and compromising position- flush against each other with her hips straddling your waist; close enough to feel her rapid heartbeat. 

“Yeah- that was- that was good” you sputtered out, barely able to hear yourself over the rapid beating of your own heart. Or maybe it was hers- you aren't sure you could tell the difference between up and down right now.

She gave a proud smirk and opened her mouth to say something before a certain synthezoid floated through the gym walls, clueless to the moment he was interrupting.

“Mr. Stark requests a team meeting and would like you to meet him in the conference room.” He said simply before turning and leaving through the wall again.

Wanda gave you a look that seemed to say we’ll finish this later and moved off of you. You missed the heat of her body immediately.

She offered you a hand up and you gladly took it, the two of you walking side by side in silence to the meeting, shoulders bumping and small smiles shared between you two as you think to yourself that maybe you could get used to this. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Laisse tomber les filles 5

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; size kink; age gap; manipulation; tags to be added as story progresses

This is a dark!fic and Lee Bodecker x (short) reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find yourself ostracized on campus by your shyness, but your reticence won’t deter an unwanted suitor.

Note: That slow creep, tho

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You looked down at your body and fidgeted. The skirt was so short you pulled on a pair of stockings in an effort to hide your legs, and it was tight like the blouse. Both pieces seemed to be just a size too small. The boots were higher than any heels you’d worn before and you felt awkward in the get-up.

Noon. That was when he told you the night before as he kept stalling you from leaving. Every time you were ready to push open the car door, he had something else to say. You agreed to noon just to appease him so you could run and hide in your dorm.

You pulled on your long pea coat and stuffed your textbooks into your canvas bag with the leather straps. You hiked it up on your shoulder and slung your pocketbook from your other. You stepped out into the hallway and wobbled on the heels. You clung to the handle as you kept yourself upright.

“Wow, you look special,” Gina remarked as she peeked through the kitchen door.

“Um, thanks,” you pulled your coat closed and buttoned it, “it’s… new.”

“It’s cute,” she said as Lisa came to peek through the doorway as well.

“Where are you going?” the second girl asked.

“To study,” you said as you carefully made your way to the heavy door that led to the stairwell.

“Oh, study, huh?” she teased, “can’t be alone then.”

“I’m gonna be late,” you kept your chin down.

“Don’t let us hold you up,” Gina said as you opened the door and stepped out.

“I didn’t know she had anywhere to go,” Lisa’s trilled and her voice slipped into the hall just before the wood slid back into the frame.

You exhaled through your nose and braced the railing for your slow and treacherous descent. As you got to the bottom, you teetered and pressed yourself to the wall as two girls came through the door. You watched them flit up the stairs and scurried out into the spring air.

The weather was as bitter as before. It smelled like wet grass and mud. The sun beamed down warmly and made you sweat in your jacket. You gripped the strap of your bag and cleared the single step to even ground.

“Honey,” the voice drew your eyes up from your boots and you blinked. 

The sheriff stood by his cruiser as he watched you. He didn’t wear his uniform, instead a pair of grey slacks and pure white button-up under his usual leather. He smiled and came to the end of the walk as you hesitantly closed the gap. Your heel caught in a crack and you stumbled. He caught you and gave a soft laugh.

“You okay?” he asked as he held your elbow in one hand and his other went to the small of your back.

“I’m fine,” you righted yourself and parted from him, “just didn’t see the crack.”

“Here,” he tugged on your heavy knapsack, “let me take this.”

You let him, unsure what to say. He was early. Your watch assured you he was a whole twenty minutes ahead of schedule. Your own timing was purely habit as you hated to keep others waiting.

“Thank you,” you squeaked as he put the bag in the back seat.

“So, can I see it?” he asked as he shut the door.

“What?” your brows knitted in confusion.

“The clothes,” he said lightly, “that is what you’re hidin’ under there, right?” he pointed at a large round button on your pea coat, “it’s too warm to be wearin’ all that.”

“Can I wait… until we’re at your, um, place?” you clutched the round collar of your coat anxiously.

“Oh, for my eyes only, huh,” he teased with a wink.

“No, I just… can we go?”

“Course, honey,” he brushed by you and opened the front door, “get in.”

You sat and pulled your legs in, hooking them around the edge of the seat stiffly as you crossed one over the other. The door closed and you picked at the metal clasp of your pocket book and chewed your lip. Why were you doing all this? You were an adult, he said it himself, you could say no…

You glanced around, his sheriff’s hat sat on the dashboard and you shook your head. No, you couldn’t. He was a cop and your discomfort wasn’t a reason to be uncourteous. Your mother always told you to push yourself out of your safe zone. She hated how you always held yourself back because you were scared. It was difficult enough to get you out of the house and into a dorm.

Once he was in the car, there was no turning back. You coudn’t lie about feeling sick or claim a forgotten study group, you were on your way and suddenly you were filled with panic. What if he wasn’t taking you to his house? Did that star on his hat really mean he was a good person?

“Um,” the syllable slipped from you nervously.

“What is it, hon?” he asked as he gripped the grooved wheel.

“Um, I don’t…” you stuttered as you searched for words. You couldn’t let him know what you were really afraid of, “so, uh, I would’ve thought that… you have a wife?”

His brows flicked up as you peeked over at him. He pushed his bottom lip out and hummed. He clicked his tongue and sighed.

“Well, I did,” he admitted, “but I don’t like to talk about it too much. She, er, she’s married to my deputy now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said quietly, “I didn’t…”

“It’s all over now,” he shrugged, “you know, I’ve moved on. We’re both happier for it.”

“That’s… good, then,” you murmured.

“Must be, I met you,” he smiled, “huh?”

“Well, I…” your hand shook and hid it up your sleeve, “I don’t know, I’m a bit young, aren’t I?”

“Young?” he said, “you don’t act it. You’re a lot more mature than lots of ladies I know. The way you carry yourself… you work hard I can tell. I don’t see your age, just a good woman.”

“Hmm,” you pursed your lips tightly.

“I mean it,” he insisted, “you got character beyond your age.”

“Thank you, but I… I don’t know,” you picked at the cuff of your coat.

“You brought your books?” he said, “must’ve. That bag sure is heavy. I got a place for ya all set up.”

“Oh?”

“I’ll be workin’ on supper, I hope you don’t mind the noise,” he drawled, “you know, I don’t cook often so I might be a bit… lost.”

“You don’t have to cook for me,” you offered, “really, it’s… too much.”

“I wanna, honey,” he said, “ain’t it special? A fellow cookin’ for his lady?”

“Uh, oh,” you frowned, “sure.”

“And you can turn the radio on if you like,” he continued, “it’s new.”

You nodded and listened meekly. Every argument you had for him was quickly shot down. He was so good at telling you how you were wrong or what to do while making it feel like good advice. Each demand, each want, was presented as common sense. It was impossible to argue with him because deep inside, you couldn’t argue with yourself. 

While your gut told you something was off, your head assured you of your paranoia. You didn’t know any better, did you? You didn’t know how these things worked, how men and women got along, so of course it would feel strange to you. But he knew and he was so confident about it, he must be right.

📚

Lee’s house was nice, just outside the city limits. It reminded you of the suburban homes you passed on your way to high school in your hometown. You only ever lived in an apartment with your parents and so found the place extravagant compared to boxy until attached hallways noisy with troublesome neighbours.

He led you onto the porch, the wood painted white, and opened both the screen door and thicker wood one ahead of you. You were forced to brush against him as you entered. He was quick to trail you, the screen snapping shut behind him. He hung his leather coat and tugged on the back of your collar as he plunked down your bookbag.

“Go on then,” he said, “let me see it, honey.”

You closed your eyes and steeled yourself. You forced a smile as you undid the first button and slowly turned to him. You unhooked each until the coat fell open and you let it fall down your arms. You quickly swept it up and he took it to hang beside his own.

He faced you and gripped your shoulders as he looked down at you. You shied away as his eyes roved down your body and you took a step back as you crossed your arms.

“They’re a bit tight,” you said.

“You look mighty fine,” he slithered, “look like they fit just nice.”

“Erm,” you rocked on the balls of your feet.

He smiled and knelt to untie his shoes. You unzipped the boots and stepped out of them, stretching your arches as before you brought them flat. You pushed them beside his shoes as his strong cologne tickled your nose.

“Just in here, honey,” he waved you through a doorway, “come on.”

He went back to grab your bag and pointed you in ahead of him as he returned to you. He went to the sofa and dropped the bag on the cushion. 

“You can get settled in,” he sidled away from the coffee table, “the radios there,” he gestured to the console table along the wall, “record player too.”

“Thanks, I should be fine,” you neared and sat on the edge of the couch.

“I’ll be through there, in the kitchen,” he peeked over at another door, “you need anything, just holler.”

“I will,” you twined your fingers through each other, “thank you.”

He smirked and shoved his hands in his pockets as he lingered on the other side of the table, “you do look nice in that,” he looked you up and down again, “you don’t even need the stockings with how warm it’s gettin’.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled and brought your fingers to tap your lip, “guess I should get started.”

You reached for the flap of your book bag and slid out a heavy textbook. You sensed him watching you before his feet slowly turned away and he strode from the room. You opened the book and flipped through the pages mindlessly. 

This house was far enough from the city, far enough that you were stranded, and much of the area was new to you. The realisation made you tremble as you counted the page numbers.