#Doors misleading light | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dilf-rot · 2 months ago

Text

Roadkill

Old! Logan gets hit by a car right outside your apartment, and since his healing isn’t as fast as it use to be he begrudgingly agrees to let you take care of him for the time being

Word Count: 3009

Tags: Old!Logan x Reader, Logan Howlett x Reader, Wolverine x Reader, Fem!Reader, age gap (obviously), kinda pervy logan, blood, description of injuries / mild gore, Car accident, wound dressing, alcohol consumption, bed sharing, P in V, Fingering, Some dirty talk, creampie

AN: Okay so I did a poll about what you guys would want next, and a "Funny Old Logan" fic won... so like the concept is the funny part (at least to me), But I tried to make it rather light hearted because I hope it wasn’t a misleading poll choice. Maybe the length of it will make you forgive me for my poor sense of humor

If you enjoy my work consider sending me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/rotwrites (Not required by any means, writing requests are still free!)

MDNI 18+

—--------------------------------------

It was rather late at night, your street barely illuminated by the poorly maintained street lamps. You sat by your window, watching the empty street. The autumn air wispy through the trees, dead leaves skittering across the concrete. You liked looking outside at this time of night, reminding yourself of how quiet and peaceful things can be.

An older man was walking along the edge of the sidewalk, his head hung down, his gait slow and particular. You were surprised to see someone out walking at this time, but thought it not too unusual. As he began to walk along the curve of the road, as if materializing from thin air, a black vehicle sped around the curve, colliding with the man and sending him falling over into the pavement, the screech of tires, the sound of impact. You could hardly think as you rushed down the stairs and out the door.

The vehicle had disappeared much like it had appeared, and the man lay unmoving on the cold concrete. There was a small puddle of blood forming beneath him.

“Are you alright? I’ll call 911.” You shouted as you approached him, holding out your hand.

“Don’t,” He groaned, pushing himself over so that he was laid on his back. The blood was seeping through his shirt around his abdomen, but it seemed not to bother him. “I’ll just be on my way.”

He breathed heavily, trying to stand from the ground. Cursing to himself. He couldn’t seem to sit up.

“Here, let me help you.” You leaned down and helped him to his feet. He winced in pain as he tried to stand up straight. Looking at you in a peculiar way, as if he had never expected kindness from a stranger. You were young, and bright, and despite the suddenness and seeming severity of his situation, came rushing in to help. Great contrast to his old, dark, and brooding disposition. “Are you sure you don’t want 911? If your worried about ambulance costs I could always drive you to the hospital.”

He tried to laugh, but ended up coughing and a splatter of blood spewed from his mouth. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. Just need some rest.”

“Why don’t you come inside, I’ll help you,” You gestured towards your building, the window of your apartment the only one light up in the night.

“Really, it’s no big deal-” He started, only for a little more blood to dribble from his mouth, he wiped it away with his hand and before he could protest any further, you slowly led him up to your apartment. Careful not to take the stairs too fast, or pull too hard on his arms.

Despite his current state, he was rather well built. You could feel the lines and curves of muscle under his jacket as his arm rested across your shoulders. His face wasn’t all that bad either, minus the blood staining his graying beard, he was rather handsome and you suddenly felt rather embarrassed by your choice of bringing him into your home.

You brought him inside, and helped him sit down in the living room. Tossing the decorative pillow off of the chair so that he may lean back comfortably. He looked around your apartment, it was nicely decorated, a little girly, but not too extreme, and there were some pumpkin and mushroom themed items here and there for the fall season. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Listening to you frantically search your cabinets for first aid materials.

When the searching had stopped you managed to find a first aid kit, a washcloth, and some pain meds.

“Can we take off your shirt and jacket so I can see the damage?” You once again held out your hands to him. He grumbled and nodded, helping you remove them. The fabric luckily wasn't sticking to the wounds, despite being drenched in blood. “I’ll wash them for you.”

He watched your face as you took in the sight of him. He was much more in shape than you would expect for an older man, not that you could guess how old he was, but he seemed to be the active kind based on his physique. You shakily reached out with the washcloth, gently dapping away the drying blood, trying to get a better look at the wounds. They didn’t seem too deep, but the lacerations and road burn were rather gruesome. You decided it would be best to apply some antibacterial and wrap them in gauze. You were worried that you wouldn’t have enough, but as you wrapped the last bit around him, you were relieved to find it had been the perfect amount. He didn’t have the energy to argue with you, nor to explain that by the morning, or at least the late afternoon tomorrow, he would be mostly healed up and able to leave.

“Could I see your hands?” You took them in yours, looking at his palms, happy to find them not all that scrapped up. He huffed when you put them back down. “Can I get you something to drink?”

He perked up a bit, “You got any whiskey?”

You pull up a step stool and search through your liquor cabinet, you had a modest amount of choices for when friends came over. But your whiskey selection was rather poor. He watches you as you try to balance while you move bottles out of the way.

“I only have Screwball and Jack Daniel’s” you call out over your shoulder.

He groans and rolls his eyes, he should have expected that from a young girl like you. “Daniel’s.”

You get the bottle down from the cabinet and grab him a glass. As you go to pour it he stops your hand, “Just give me the bottle sweetheart.”

You oblige, and sit on the couch across from him. Watching as he takes a swig from the bottle, swishing it around in his mouth before swallowing. You are almost entranced watching him, something about him draws you in. Admittedly it was strange for you to be ogling a complete stranger, whom you had just witnessed get fully hit by a car, but you couldn’t help yourself. You shift on the couch, trying to find a comfortable position.

“What’s your name?”

He sighs, placing the bottle down, “Logan.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the Doctor, Logan?”

“I’ll be alright.”

“No offense, but you just got knocked on your ass by a speeding car.”

“Been through worse.” He says, and you believe him. “I’ll be good to go tomorrow, don’t worry your pretty little head about me.”

You nod, and resign to not ask him any further. Instead just watching as he drinks, and wondering what someone like him was doing in the neighborhood anyway.

-sit watching him, as he starts to get sleepy, you offer to bring him to your bed to sleep

“You invite a lot of strange men into your bed?”

“No.”

“I’m the first?”

You don’t answer, helping him lay down and get comfortable. Taking his shoes off for him and asking if he needs anything else.

“I’m alright.”

“Ok, I’ll be on the couch if you need anything.” As you walk away, he can sense how you sigh. Knowing you probably can’t sleep on that couch, he gets a little smirk on his face.

“Why don’t you stay with me, Princess?” He can hear your breath catch in your throat and your little kind heart starts to race. “Make sure I stay breathing, ya know?”

You nod, feeling silly for how quickly you want this attention from him. But you can’t help yourself and you crawl into bed with him. Trying not to bump him as you get under the blankets. You face away from him and close your eyes, trying to fall asleep as fast as possible, the adrenaline of the whole situation quickly fading. He shifts in the bed, you can feel his warmth radiating from him. He places his hand on your waist and pulls you closer to him. His mouth against the back of your head, your back pressed against his chest. He whispers something to you, but you can barely hear it over the sound of your heart hammering away.

You aren’t sure how but you were able to fall asleep like that, Logan holding you against him, and you hiding your face in your pillow hoping you could get through this without any more strange feelings bubbling up in your stomach.

When you woke up, Logan’s mouth was pressed to your neck, softly mumbling against you. The scruff of his beard scratching against your skin. When you shifted he pulled away, but his arm remained around your waist. You patted him and tried to squirm out of bed.

“Mmm...” he groaned. “Morning.”

He stayed in bed as you went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. He watched you, your pj shorts riding up, and the tank you wore hugging tightly to you. You felt a little sweaty, probably due to having something so warm in your bed for once. You lean in the doorway to the bedroom watching as he slowly sits up.

“How are you feeling?”

“Could use a shower,” He groans as he stands from the bed, stretching and feeling all the aches slowly coming back.

You lead him to the bathroom, bringing him a towel and washcloth. You help him unwrap his bandages, and as you do you are surprised to see them mostly scabbed and scarred over, only a few of the deeper ones were still periodically dripping with blood.

“That’s quite impressive,” you remark, tracing your finger lightly over one of the scars.

“Not as good as it used to be,” He shrugs. You turn your back to him as he gets into the shower. Once the curtain is closed you grab his clothes and as he showers you wash his clothes and your bed sheets, grateful to have the luxury of in unit laundry.

You hear him drop some stuff in the shower and check on him, he says he's okay and that his shoulder is just stiff. You return to your spot on the couch, wondering how he managed to heal so well overnight, maybe he just had good genetics. His muscles and features already seemed unfair to be on a man of his presumed age, so perhaps he just had quicker blood clotting than your average person.

You hear the shower shut off, and a few moments later he steps out. Wrapped in only a towel, your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him. You couldn’t help but imagine being pressed up against him, much like last night, but without the barrier of injury or clothing. The way the towel clung to his waist, droplets of water stuck to his skin, his hair wet and dripping. You shook the thoughts out of your head and offer him the biggest bathrobe you have while his clothes are drying.

You make a pot of coffee and sit next to him on the couch. He seems much more relaxed this morning, and maybe even a bit more interested in your company. He reaches his hand out to you, placing it right above your knee, “I appreciate you going through all this effort for an old man.”

“Of course, I couldn’t just leave you on the street.” You squirm a bit as he rubs his hand gently back and forth.

“Anything I can do for ya, you know return the favor?” You could see a bit of a smile spreading as he looked towards you. God he was much more attractive in the light of day.

“Oh-” You feel heat rising to your face and you look away towards the window. “No. No, it’s no big deal.”

He smirks, he can hear your heart racing. Hell, he can even smell your desire pooling between your thighs. Sweet girls like you always seem to be affected by him. He drops his hand from your knee, leaning back into the couch, “Come on, be honest with me Sweetheart,”

You scoot a little closer to him, your thigh pressing into his.

“That's it, I don’t bite.” But deep down he would, if you begged him too. He’d rip those pjs off you and treat you like a doll. Make you squirm and scream until your mind goes hazy and your eyes water.

You lean closer against him, your shoulder pressing up against his, trying to build the courage to ask him for what you really want. Before you can find the words he brings his hand up to your jaw and turns you to face him. He searches your eyes for a moment, giving you space to protest, and when you don’t he closes the gap and kisses you. Gentle and soft, you can taste the coffee on his breath but you don’t even care. He pulls away and you whine involuntarily.

“Needy, are we?” You nod and push yourself closer to him, he kisses you again, dropping his hand down to trace along your arm, until he reaches your waist. He pulls you in, his hand against the small of your back. He kisses you deeply and passionately, savoring the taste of your mouth as he slips his tongue inside. Feeling pleased by the soft whines and moans you’re making against him.

He slips his free hand down between your thighs, groaning when he feels how wet you are through the fabric of your pajama shorts. Practically smiling into the kiss when he slips his hand under the waistband and realizes you weren’t wearing panties this entire time.

“Bringing me into your house, and you didn’t even have panties on?” He brings his fingertips to rub your clit in little circles. You whine, knowing that you could never expect your night to unfold the way it did. His hand is so rough and calloused but his movements are so gentle, teasing you so softly. You press your head into the side of his arm wanting him to be rougher, wanting to get there faster.

He pulls his hand away and you groan at the loss of contact. He pulls you into his lap and removes your shorts. With you resting on his thighs he leans you back against him and brings his hand back to toy with you. His touch is electrifying and you rock your hips up against him trying to get more, but he keeps the same languid pace with just a small bit of pressure.

He uses his other hand to wrap around your waist and hold you in place. You can feel him pressed up against your back, the soft fabric of the bathrobe you gave him gliding along your skin. As you shift and whine he keeps you steady, not giving you enough to make you cum, but just enough to make you feel dizzy as the frustration starts to build.

“Logan… please,” You plead with him and he kisses your neck.

“What do you need, baby?”

“More…” He laughs against your skin as you try to press yourself up against his hand again, but he just keeps you in place, his grip tightening.

“I’ll give you more.” And he does. Finally speeding up the motion of his hand and adding more force. You’re so happy that you hardly notice as your orgasm quickly washes over you. Your thighs trembling against him. You don’t even register it as he flips you around to face him, using both his hands to hold your hips and lower you down onto his cock.

When you come back to earth, you’re met with the feeling of being utterly full. You hadn’t gotten a good look at his dick before, but just based on the feeling of it, you knew you were in trouble. It was thick and stretched you open, making you shiver as he bounced you slowly up and down. The way it dragged along your walls, the way the tip of it brushed against that sweet spot inside. You were reduced to moans and whines, and hardly any thoughts could form in your brain that weren’t regarding Logan fucking you. He kissed you while he continued to fuck into you. His pace picking up and making you see stars.

“Fuck… that pretty little pussy of yours feels so good.” He groaned into your ear and you shivered around him. “Were you gonna hide this from me?”

You shake your head, and try to say no but all that escapes your mouth is another choked whine. He grins as he admires your fucked out expression. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to release, as he pounds into you, hitting that spot and pressing against you. You’re breathing becomes ragged and your whines and moans blend into nothing but noise as you clench around his cock and come undone.

“That’s it, Doll. Cum all over this cock.” He fucks you through your orgasm and you drop your head onto his shoulder. Whining and moaning and cursing under your breath as he doesn’t stop. He’s getting closer too, his thrusts start to falter and his composure starts to slip. You feel him twitch and in moments warm, thick cum floods your insides. He holds you there, and kisses the top of your head. Murmuring about how good you feel, how you’re such a good girl for taking all of him. Your fuzzy little head can’t even reply.

When your brain finds its way back to you, and you can breathe in a regular manner, you feel his cock slide out of you, and his cum seeps from you, coating your thighs and his. He shifts under you and you stiffen.

“Do you have to leave?” You aren’t sure why, but you don’t want to let go of this strange man just yet.

“I can stay a little longer for you, Princess.”

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #wolverine x reader #Old Logan x Reader

716 notes · View notes

nmn-yty · 5 months ago

Text

— ๋࣭ ⭑࿐ first time ｡o♡⋆˚｡⋆.

read part 1: here!!!

pairing: lee know x reader

summary: caring for a bunny seemed harder than you thought

word count: 1.7k

a/n: back at it again! ik ive said it so many times throughout my blog but im truly thankful for all the likes and reblogs(◞‸◟)♡ this will not be the last of my bunny lee know endeavor but stay tuned for more hybrid, skz, and kpop stories in the meantime! also keep in mind that ive never owned any pets so the animal behavior is based on memory of things ive seen online, dont come for me pls>< anyways, i hope this one lives up to the hype of the first part, enjoy!!! (also i apologize for not posting sooner><)

+ stylized lowercase, missing punctuation (not done on purpose), and minimal revisions

a few days in and the days seemed to get harder and harder for you. not because minho was causing you any trouble, but because the fluttery feeling in your stomach kept growing the more you spent time with him. it was scary how perfect he was in every way.

you were sitting on your couch enjoying a nice hot drink, when the familiar sound of thumping on the wood floor caught your attention. you looked down to find a playful bunny minho. he was scurrying around your feet, even moving his paws to your legs.

"what's wrong?" you set your drink down on the table in front of you.

minho kept on pawing at your legs. you reached down to pick him up, placing him in your lap.

"i can't understand you when you're in the form, you know?"

he looked up at you with a nonchalant expression, you expected nothing out of him. before you knew it, you had a hybrid minho sitting in your lap bridal style, hands wrapped around your neck. the weight and size change startled you, but he loved to tease you and transform whenever he pleased.

"can i please go outside for a bit?" he was really bouncy and sounded out of breath. you had to remind yourself that he was a wild animal. although you took him in to stay in your house, his animal instincts couldn't be suppressed.

"okay, but only for a little-" he cut your sentence off by changing back into a bunny, still knocking you off guard.

he scurried off your lap and towards the back hallway, scratching at the door for you to open it. he looked back at you with those big dark eyes. they always sparkled perfectly in the right lighting. seeing him being all hyper as an animal was truly so endearing. you've always wanted someone like him in your life. the universe definitely planned out your lives to be intertwined.

you rolled your eyes from his fast movements and got up. the second you opened the door wide enough for him to fit, he dashed out onto the grass. it has still been snowy for the past couple of days, but today the grass held a light layer of snow from earlier that day.

he was hopping around the entire yard, sniffing around bushes, chewing on some of the obtainable food he could get his mouth on. you could see the footprints and tracks beginning to circle around the snow. the whole surface of your yard was being fully inspected by him.

you couldn't help but sit down by the steps of your back porch. hugging your knees in admiration, you followed minho's path all throughout the whole time you were out there. you couldn't help but get flustered about the racing thoughts in your mind. something as simple as watching him be comfortable in his environment made you feel at ease.

what you didn't know was minho found himself wanting to be human more for the both of you. it was exhausting for him at times, but he couldn't help but laugh with you, smile with you, feel with you. he never got to experience these moments with anyone before. he wanted each adventure with you to last for hours.

he looked up to find you staring at him, which made his heart race faster than it normally should. draining energy fast, he flopped on his back, waving his paws and feet in the air. getting a chuckle out of you from the distance, he felt satisfied. the sudden urge to dig overwhelmed his thoughts, getting back to his feet and digging straight down from where he was standing.

luckily, you had your mind to distract you from his actions. he started to go feral, getting the dirt and snow all over his face.

drifting away from your daydream, you found your white fluffy bunny turning brown from the dirt and snow.

"minho, no!" you quickly ran over to him, making him realize he was likely in big trouble. thinking two steps ahead, he dove out of your attempt to grab him. shocked and stunned, you still chased after him. he was running steadily back towards the house. the universe was on your side though, as the back door was closed and all minho could do was try to reach up and grab the handle. however, being in his small form, he failed miserably.

"cmon silly," you bent down to grab the squirming animal in your arms, the warmth from your body making him docile and shut down.

once you got to the bathroom upstairs, you gently set minho on the floor. his eyes were slowly closing and he tried his best to keep them open again. before he could fall asleep, he jolted himself awake, which unfortunately turned him into his hybrid form.

"do you want me to take my clothes off so you can bathe me?"

his question made you whip your head around in shock, stuttering nonsense to try and distract yourself from the image of himself being naked in front of you.

"dont be difficult... turn into a bunny so i can wash you quickly."

he let out a small whine, almost like it was his plan all along to get dirty and have this scenario go his way.

you crossed your arms and gave him a dissatisfied look. you weren't really mad at him, you just wanted the day to end quicker so you two could snuggle in bed together.

one big movement turned him small again, he hopped onto your legs, as you had knelt down to get comfortable. you turned on the water in your bathtub and ran some warm water about two or three inches from the bottom. placing him inside the tub, you grabbed a cup to scoop up the water onto his body. the first rinse was quick, he even shook some water off himself like a dog which made you smile.

the scrubbing process also went by fast, working your fingers gently through his coat, the dirt coming off completely. you picked up the cup again, filling it with water. washing the soap away, he shook his body again, trying to dry up as fast as he could.

"calm down minho! ill dry you off in a second."

the water beginning to flow down the drain, you picked up a sopping wet minho from the tub and placed him on the rug next to you. the towel to dry him was hanging on the side of the tub. you laid it flat against your lap, picking him up again and placing him on top of the towel.

you wrapped him up in the towel, trying your best not to cover up his face. you patted and rubbed the cloth into his body, making sure to cover all the spots. his ears, his tail, and his paws all becoming dry and fluffy again.

he hopped off of your lap, turning to his hybrid form. this time you expected something from that big of a leap. you were starting to learn and master his behaviors. he was sat on the floor facing you. for some reason, his hair and ears were still wet in this form. he held one of his ears out, squeezing it to wring out the remaining water off himself. you got to your knees and threw the towel over his head. going a little harder this time, you scrubbed his hair dry to the best of your ability. you noticed him closing his eyes in comfort, especially when you got to his ears.

he looked up at you through his messy hair. he hummed softly, he was so happy you were taking such good care of him. not noticing at all, when you removed the towel his bunny ears went away. he was noticeably more dry and your job was done. you turned around slightly to drape the towel on the tub again.

he let out a cute yawn, so ready to flop into bed and get some sleep. when you turned back around you couldn't help but notice some brown specks on his face. did he have freckles this whole time and you were just too star struck to notice? you reached out to rub his face, making him freeze and have his full semi-conscious attention to your actions. the specks turned to brown streaks against his skin.

"youve been digging so much in the dirt, come here."

he scooted over to you, patiently waiting for anything to happen next. you realized now his nose and cheeks were lightly covered in dirt. you reached over for a new towel and quickly turned the faucet on to run some water on it. swiping the warm cloth on his cheeks, his face became very pink. you didn't know if it was because of the pressure you applied to his face, or if he was actually having some emotional reaction to this.

his gaze was so sensual, almost like his mind had gone to mush and he could only display emotions of pure submission. his thoughts became chaotic, trying to resist the urge to tackle you and have you all to himself.

after a while you could feel your face burning up, scared about any of his next moves or words.

"why are you looking at me like that?" the dirt was almost gone. you moved closer to his face, only inches away in order to get the last bits off.

minho didn't answer you, instead he stared more intensely at you, patiently waiting for you to finish. putting the towel down, you gently rubbed the wetness off his face. even more skin to skin contact was making him lose control. the hue of pink showing from his face becoming almost cartoon like.

"mm tired," his eyes began to droop again. he wanted his last conscious thought to be that he was secure next to you. as dramatic as ever, he laid out his body in your lap, slowly beginning to drift off and finally recharge.

this feeling was starting to become a natural occurrence in your daily lives. whether he was a small bunny, a cute hybrid, or a human who could actually sweep you off your feet, you had him. he felt safe around you and wanted to be near you. using one hand to meet his hand, rubbing it gently to soothe him, you used your other hand to play with his hair. even as a human, he was still soft and cuddly. you bent down to place a small kiss on his head, making him nuzzle himself deeper into you.

part 3 is up! click here!!!

♥︎taglist: @lailac13 @palindrome969 @lunathewonyoungstan @syedazarintasnim @yourlocalstayyxi @mmarusa @yukichan67 @qwonyoung23 @cupidcures @verynormalsstuff @leezanetheofficial

705 notes · View notes

juju-or-anya · 7 months ago

Text

It's hard not to find irony in the criticisms directed towards Eloise Bridgerton and the elevation of Penelope Featherington as a more genuine and hardworking figure in contrast with Eloise's supposed privileged circumstances and her discourse on feminism. Indeed, some voices have pointed out Eloise's feminism as something white and privileged, and while this is not without merit, it's akin to rediscovering what others have already noticed, akin to Christopher Columbus "discovering" America.

Understanding the context in which "Bridgerton" unfolds is essential. The series is set in Regency England, between 1813 and 1825. This historical period is marked by a highly stratified and conservative society, where women, especially those of the upper class, were relegated to traditional roles and lacked basic legal rights. In this context, any discussion of feminism must consider the unique limitations and challenges of the time.

It is true that Eloise Bridgerton, being part of a respected family in English nobility, embodies many of the characteristics associated with the white and privileged feminism of the time. However, this should not diminish the value of her role in advancing feminist ideas in her historical context. It is thanks to women like Eloise, who challenged social expectations and dared to question the status quo, that doors were opened for future, more inclusive feminist movements.

On the other hand, when analyzing Penelope Featherington's role in contrast with Eloise Bridgerton's, intriguing nuances worthy of a more detailed critical exploration are revealed. Although both come from upper-class families, Penelope's experiences differ significantly from Eloise's. In the society depicted in "Bridgerton," Penelope is portrayed as a more marginal figure, overshadowed by the prominence and glamour of the Bridgerton family. She is often seen in the background, struggling to find her place in a world where her social status does not put her at the center of attention.

Throughout the series, Penelope exhibits a distressing lack of empathy and solidarity towards other women. Instead of fostering unity and support among her peers, her writings are propelled by feelings of envy, resentment, and desires for revenge. Striking examples of this include her actions to publicly reveal Marina Thompson's pregnancy, intending to undermine her relationship with Colin Bridgerton, or defaming individuals such as Daphne, Edwina, and Kate Sharma, often with no apparent reason other than personal gain.

Penelope's behavior as Lady Whistledown sheds light on her complex nature and motivations. While it may represent an attempt to find her voice in a world dominated by more powerful figures, it also reveals a tendency towards manipulation and selfishness. Ultimately, her role as the mysterious chronicler is more than just a quest for identity; it is a reflection of the moral and ethical complexities underlying the society of "Bridgerton."

In summary, asserting that Penelope is more feminist and hardworking than Eloise due to her role as Lady Whistledown is, at best, simplistic and, at worst, deeply misleading. Both women, while privileged in their own right, have chosen different paths in life and have faced their own challenges. However, the narrative of Penelope as a morally superior and more genuinely hardworking figure should be questioned in light of her actions and motivations, which often reveal a lack of integrity and empathy towards her peers.

It's important to note that when Theo confronts Eloise, questioning her understanding of the real world and her privileged position, Eloise doesn't reject this criticism but uses it as a catalyst to seek greater understanding. Recognizing the validity of Theo's observation, Eloise actively seeks to broaden her horizons. She engages in conversations with Theo and John, seeking to break free from the bubble of privilege in which she has lived so far.

On the other hand, Penelope takes a different stance towards her own privileged position. Instead of acknowledging her situation and seeking to understand the realities of those less privileged, Penelope vehemently denies any suggestion that she also benefits from the system. Rather than accepting her position of privilege, she portrays herself as a victim, despite her actions suggesting otherwise. Ultimately, this divergence in attitudes between Eloise and Penelope highlights the complexity of individual perceptions of privilege and personal responsibility in an unequal world.

PS: The comment: "Penelope saved Eloise by writing that she hung out with radicals, she doesn't know what it's like to be grateful" is shit. Whose fucking fault is it that the Queen is on a crusade with torches and pitchforks, looking for blood and a rolling head? From Penelope because she doesn't know when to keep her hand still and stop writing, if it weren't for Penelope, the queen wouldn't think that Eloise is Lady Whistledown, Penelope wasn't looking to help Eloise, she was looking to save her skin.

#anti penelope featherington #penelope featherington #eloise bridgerton #the bridgertons #bridgerton #theo sharpe #I swear I'm going to cry if I read again that Penelope is an icon of feminism and women's empowerment #Eloise does not deserve all the hate they are giving her #I do want Eloise and Theo to be together forever.#Because they love each other and would be very happy together #marina thompson #madame delacroix

536 notes · View notes

lenacosse · 8 months ago

Text

You are in love

pairing: jake peralta x reader

cw: none

word count: 1600

summary: literally just based off the song you are in love by taylor swift, was written so quick but i love it

════════════════

One look dark room, meant just for you

“Jakes staring again,” Amy hummed nudging you to look.

You made eye contact with Jake who quickly looked away, your face went red and you tried to hide your smile.

“He wasn’t even looking at me.” You reply, shutting down Amy’s ideas.

“If you say soooo,” she blew you a kiss and stumbled over to the bar.

Before you knew it Jake was over sitting beside you, you smiled and took a sip of your drink.

“Hey.” Jake said.

“Hi.” You replied.

“Having fun?”

“I guess, just very loud in here,” you shrugged.

“I can’t believe you’ve been with us for three years now,”

Time moves too fast, you play it back

“I remember how shy you were, how you were scared of Holt.” Jake teased.

“Shut up Jake.” You playful shoved his arm, then resumed fidgeting with the buttons on your coat. “I remember you being oh so adamant to help me.”

Buttons on a coat, lighthearted joke

The two of you went back and fourth, Jakes only goal was to torment you. Something he done very often, you didn’t mind you thought he was funny but never would you admit that.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Jake asked.

“Actually yeah, I’ll call a cab.”

“No need, I’ll drive us I haven’t been drinking.”

“Okay.”

No proof, not much. But you saw enough.

Jake stands up and holds out his hand to help you up, this of course had your face turning red and your heart thumping. It was the little things he done that mislead your heart, there were times where you swore your feelings were mutual. Maybe you were wrong, but sometimes you allowed yourself to dream.

Jake even went as far as opening the car door for you, usually you’d roll your eyes at the gentleman approach but for some reason it was sweet when Jake done it, as much as you’d joked that he was a womaniser you knew he was far from that.

Small talk, he drives.

“So how are you enjoying work recently? Feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” You ask as Jake drives.

“The usual, busting drug lords, bringing down the mafia, saving the world day by day.” Jake replies.

“Ha ha very funny Peralta.” You roll your eyes, and his only response is a bashful grin, one that you know will reply in your mind.

Coffee, at midnight.

You and Jake went back to your apartment, you read the clock which hits midnight as he hands you a mug of coffee.

“Gonna be up all night,” Jake jokes.

“Oh I can image, you high on caffeine like a little child.” You tease, Jake just pulls a mocking face at you.

You go sit out on your balcony, Jake follows behind you and you sit in a comfortable silence drinking your coffee.

The light reflects, the chain on your neck.

“The moons reflecting on your necklace,” Jake says, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Really?”

He says, “look up” and your shoulders brush.

“Look up,”

No proof, one touch. But you felt enough.

As you do you brush shoulders with Jake, the touch sending chills down your spine. It was as if he sent electrical waves coursing through your body, it just solidified your undying commitment. You ever longing attraction. It spoke volume.

You can hear it in the silence, you can feel it on the way home, you can see it with the lights out.

A comfortable silence emerged yet again over you both, that happened often with Jake. It’s not that you it was awkward but because you simply didn’t need to talk. As you watched him admire the moon the feeling that settled in your stomach grew, you found yourself reflecting on your feelings. It was simple. That feeling was heard in the silence that feeling was felt on the way home, and you could see it with the lights out. There’s was only one answer.

You are in love.

True love.

════════════════

Morning, his place.

You and Jake had been on your second date together, he asked you out two weeks ago. It came out in a complete blur.

You and Jake had just chased down a fugitive on the run, you ran two blocks which included jumping over fences and dodging hotdog carts. God this job was going to kill you. But finally you got the guy as a result of you lunging forward and landing on top of him knocking you both to the ground. Jake arrested him and you turn to make your way back to the car when he calls out for you.

“(Y/N)?”

You turn around, “yeah?”

“Go on a date with me tomorrow night?” He blurts out in one breath. You didn’t catch a word.

“What?”

“Go on a date with me tomorrow night?”

You couldn’t stop the stupid grin that overtook your face, of course you said yes. The date had gone so well, so well that when you got home you stayed awake all night thinking about him. And of course you had no hesitation asking him out for another date.

Burnt toast, Sunday.

Now you lay in his bed, slowly waking up. Although when you hear the fire alarm you jump up and run to the kitchen.

“Jake?! What the fuck!”

“Burnt toast…” Jake pulls a face and grabs the toast from the toaster, the toast which is fully cremated.

You look between Jake and the toast, the situation of course has you both laughing as you make him sit down. You from now on are appointed to make the food. You sit together on his couch eating toast (not cremated of course).

“You wearing my shirt?”

“I can take it off if you want… sorry it was just the first thing I grabbed.”

You keep his shirt.

“No why would you apologise keep it. Looks better on you.”

“Just my ex, got mad when I used his stuff.” You shrug, you didn’t realise how much that upset you until Jake lifted your chin.

He keeps his word.

“I promise I’ll never get mad at you,”

And for once, you let go, of your fears and your ghosts, one step, not much. But it said enough.

Usually you didn’t believe promises, but how could you not with Jake? Jake who was fiercely loyal and dedicated, Jake who would do anything to make someone smile. You knew he would keep his promises, and two months in that still withstood.

════════════════

“Jake!” You squeal running down the sidewalk.

He catches you and grabs your waist.

“You completely dodged the mistletoe.”

You kiss on sidewalks.

You roll your eyes and turn around, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him close. You share a passionate kiss, one that has your head fuzzy and lips swollen by the end of you. When he pulls away you blush like an idiot and take his hand, you walk towards the car.

You fight, then you talk.

“No but seriously,” Jake starts as he gets into the car. “Why did you dodge the mistletoe. Is it about your family again?”

“Jake we’ve had this conversation.” You sigh as you turn on your engine and start the car up.

“I know but I don’t understand, you bring me to family events but you refuse to introduce me as your boyfriend.”

“Because it’s not that simple!”

“What’s not simple? All you have to say is ‘mom, dad this is my extremely handsome boyfriend Jake’ see easy.”

“Jake be serious come on,”

“Sorry. But please just tell me what’s so wrong with it, are you embarrassed of me or something?”

“How can you say that? Of course I’m not embarrassed of you Jake.” You sigh. “I don’t tell my family because I can’t handle them ruining this for me. Every time I’ve been happy they ruin it for me, either it’s them discrediting me becoming a detective because my sister has became a doctor, or it’s them making me feel bad for feeling sad when someone disappoints me, or most frequently it’s them picking apart all of my boyfriends because god forbid I’m happy for once. That’s why Jake. That’s why I refuse to introduce you as my boyfriend because I refuse to let them put things into my head.”

“I’m sorry, I had no idea.” Jake rubs a thumb over your hand.

“No it’s not your fault, I should have told you.”

════════════════

One night, he wakes

You smile looking at Jake before returning to your book, the lamp on your beside table dimly lights up the room. And again you find yourself staring at Jake, who’s so peacefully sleeping. His features outlined by the light, making him look ethereal. You were staring so intensely that you almost didn’t notice him waking up.

Strange look on his face

“Why are you looking at me like that.” You softly laugh, “everything okay?”

Pauses, then says;

“You’re my best friend.”

And you knew what it was.

The simplicity of the words has your throat stifling. You could recognise that realisation anywhere.

He is in love.

You knew he shared it too.

You can hear it in the silence, you can feel it on the way home, you can see it with the lights out.

Finally you weren’t alone in this. You shared it, the love lingered all around. It was heard in the silence by both, it was felt on the way home by both, and it was seen with the lights out, by both.

#fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #brooklyn nine nine fic #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn 99 fic #brooklyn #boyfriend! jake peralta #jake peralta x y/n #jake peralta x you #jake peralta x reader #jake peralta #Jake peralta fluff #taylor swift #taylor swift fic #jake peralta fanfic

476 notes · View notes

crguang · 6 months ago

Text

games people play

You belong on the stage, you think, under blinding lights and at the forefront of an applauding audience. Most importantly, you only care to play along if Kafka stars in the play right alongside you.

afab!reader, kinda fluffy actually, smut, toys used, kafka is strapped and im not talking about the gun, dom!kafka, sub!bratty reader, some edging, rope play, kinda possessive kafka, 6.3k words…

A/N: this got away from me. i have nothing to say for myself.

Infiltration missions are your favorite; slipping into another person’s skin for a few hours, coming up with traits both obnoxious and serious in nature and performing in front of a naive, ignorant audience fills you with exhilaration.

Improvisation is even better, the anxiety of making up things on the fly feels like a hundred little bees buzzing in your stomach and you’ve grown so accustomed to its uneasiness by now that you often seek it out, it’s become a sort of addiction. Your team doesn’t understand— Silver Wolf prefers causing trouble from behind a screen and away from the action unless she needs to stretch her legs, Blade has too much on his mind to bother adding different characters into the mix, Firefly dreams to only live as herself. None of them share your excitement for acting and it would have been a great disappointment if it wasn’t for Kafka. Beautiful, guarded, eccentric Kafka. Constantly in search of adrenaline and always in movement, she is the only other member of your little illicit troupe of performers. Being with her is often the same as stepping on stage, what with all the half-truths and misleading statements, she is hidden under layers of costumes sometimes extravagant and other times impressively mundane. Even now, if she truly wishes to keep you at bay, you won’t be able to read her. It’s intoxicating. She plays you like the lines of a movie and together, under glaring lights and unsuspecting spectators, you dominate the stage.

You’re clasping the buttons of your shirt at the wrists, often slipping and having to start over, but despite the faint feeling of annoyance as you get dressed, you’re excited. Another evening of performing is ahead of you and it’s in times like this where you truly enjoy the work of the Stellaron Hunters. Having to blend in, to navigate a crowd of arrogant businessmen and pretentious admirers of the arts in order to steal the prized item of this auction feels like a scene straight out of a spy movie. What’s better is that you’re not meant to do this alone; Silver Wolf will be on comms as usual, hacking into the building to assure that the infiltration goes smoothly and Kafka will be right by your side, gloved hand in yours. Pre-performance jitters tingle your fingertips and toes. The sensation is welcome.

You tuck your shirt into your slacks and buckle the belt around your waist. You can hear shuffling and rummaging from the bathroom connected to the bedroom because of its open door. You pick the tie you laid out on the bed with the rest of your outfit earlier and wrap it around your neck, fiddling with it for some time before accepting the fact that you have no idea how to tie a tie and letting out a sigh of frustration. This is your first time wearing such a professional-looking suit complete with the loafers and tie, and you don’t know how to feel about it. It was slightly altered by your request, so it isn’t uncomfortable, just unfamiliar. You stand in front of the full length mirror with your undone tie, turning this way and that. Your hair is done in a style you like and with the shoes on you have to admit that you look nice.

You hear the faucet being turned on in the bathroom and stalk towards it.

“Can you tie this for me?” You ask as you step inside and glance at the mess of beauty products on the counter. Some of them are yours used in your hair, but most are Kafka’s. This is her room, after all.

Kafka’s applying a thin coat of mascara on her lashes when you walk in, focused on her reflection in the mirror. She doesn’t spare you a glance until she puts the brush back into its tube, flutters her eyelashes a couple times and deems her work perfect. She turns to you, an amused smile growing on her lips at the tie resting around your neck.

“Don’t know how?” Kafka steps into your space and runs her fingers over the fabric. She starts to loop it around and over itself as you stand.

“Never had to learn.”

From this close, you can appreciate the eyeshadow at the corner of her eyes and the highlights on the apple of her cheeks. She hasn’t put on perfume yet or finished doing her lips, but she’s dressed in a form-fitting dark magenta dress that ends a little above her ankles, with thin straps and an open back. You feel no shame observing her backside through the mirror since she’s facing away from it. She’s stupidly gorgeous; you bring your eyes back to the dangling pearl earrings in her ears and the few strands of hair that cover them. If for some reason she stands out from the crowd tonight, it’ll be because she’s the most beautiful person in the room.

Kafka finishes tying your tie and pats your chest twice. She steps back and looks you over with a hum and a couple knuckles under her chin. When her gaze travels back up to meet yours, you catch a shimmer of appreciation in it.

“Well, you look dashing,” she says, her eyes following the movements of your hands as you smooth out your shirt.

You grin playfully, approaching her to lightly rest your hands on her waist. “The suit is doing it for you, isn’t it?”

Kafka lifts your chin with two fingers. “It is.”

Her honesty makes you huff out a laugh and the smile on her lips grows somewhat at the sound.

“I’ll have to come up with excuses to get you to wear it more often.”

“You could just ask.”

“That’s boring.”

You roll your eyes, glancing at the watch on your left wrist. “We have to meet Silver Wolf outside in 20 minutes.” You lean forward to plant a chaste kiss on her lips before letting go and leaving her to her makeup.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re shrugging on your coat when Kafka emerges from the bathroom to clasp a necklace around her neck and put on her heels. She carefully handles her own coat as she takes it out of the closet, putting it over her shoulders to complete her look. Her hair is secured in a low ponytail, as usual. The chain of her pendant rests between her breasts and the low neckline of her dress draws your attention to her chest for half a minute while you wait for her near the door.

You meet up with Silver Wolf with two minutes to spare and set off for the venue. It’s this city’s grandest museum, its marble columns can be seen from a distance as you approach in car. The streets are bustling with activity, glowing lights are shining on skyscrapers and stores have their doors open to assure a healthy flow for the customers coming in and out of them. The arts are greatly valued here, it shows in the pristine buildings and advertisements all around. You know it’s only because this is a richer neighborhood and surmise that the rest of the city doesn’t look as well put together. The ride to the museum is filled with Silver Wolf’s rock music in the speakers. Everything is in place, the comms she gave you are installed and all that’s left is to put on a show that the audience won’t forget.

Silver Wolf acts as your valet when you reach the venue and step out of the car, Kafka’s hand in yours. She slips into the driver’s seat and drives off to park somewhere close and inconspicuous. She’ll be supervising the mission from the back seat while the two of you do the heavy lifting.

Kafka curls a hand around your arm as you walk up the steps of the museum. You feel a little smug knowing that she’s here with you, at your arm. Getting inside is child’s play; your invitations are checked and the metal detector is no match for Silver Wolf’s genius tech, not that you’d ever tell her that. The interior is as impressive as its outside, with high ceilings, ceramic floors and precious artifacts displayed inside tall glass cases. You and Kafka make your way to where the Attouine Universal Auction will take place in one system hour, stopping to mingle with previously chosen targets on the way. You mingle among the upper crust, politicians, businessmen, academics alike so that Kafka can use her Spirit Whisper on them. The guest list isn’t large, only up to a total of 67 people, including you two. Lying to them is easy, pretending to be in love with Kafka is easier and you’re actually having fun half an hour in.

Kafka doesn’t let you do all the talking, she has no issue following your train of thought and assuring her advantage in the conversation. It’s admirable and effortless, you don’t get tired of seeing her in action. She has a champagne flute in one hand, occasionally pensively stirring the clear liquid inside. Her smile is rehearsed and comes as naturally as breathing when a couple sparks up a conversation with you. You’re happy to play along in front of the short woman and her husband, judging by the wedding band on her finger.

“What a beautiful pair you two make,” the brunette says, an air of forced politeness about her. She seems a little out of place, like she’s not used to these kinds of events. You guess that she’s only accompanying her husband to them and that he’s actually the one with recognition.

Her husband, however, stands with his chin high and his shoulders straight. He belongs there, or believes he does, and makes a show of showing everyone else.

You take Kafka’s hand in yours and bring it to your lips. “Thank you. She’s a diamond, isn’t she?”

The man follows the motion with his eyes but his wife replies before he can open his mouth. You hear Silver Wolf gag over the comms.

“Oh, how cute! Have you been together long?”

“A year, just about,” Kafka answers, looking at you. “This one’s always a charmer.”

“I can see that!”

You smile. “I’ve got to keep you around somehow… I’m aware of what a blessing you are.”

A sparkle of amusement shines in Kafka’s eyes, the corner of her mouth lifting ever so slightly at your cheesy reply. You maintain your facade, but you also feel like laughing at how silly you sound. It’s not an untrue statement per se… it’s just weird to say such things out loud because all the both of you do is beat around the bush when it comes to genuine emotion. You’re playing a character but it feels a little like the lines between fiction and reality are blurring.

In your ear, Silver Wolf groans, “One more corny line and you’re getting muted. You both disgust me.”

The woman poses a hand on her husband’s arm, addressing him while keeping her eyes on you. “They’re just like us, aren’t they, Len?”

Your gaze flickers to his at the mention of his name and he immediately looks away into the distance to pretend he wasn’t staring at the necklace between Kafka’s breasts. You feel a faint tinge of annoyance flare up inside your chest.

“Yes, very lovely,” he says, faking the unbothered tone of his voice.

You don’t know what offends you the most; his atrocious acting or his unashamed ogling.

“I notice neither of you are wearing rings,” the woman continues with interest. “Will things be made official in the near future, perhaps…?”

Kafka lets out a chuckle— you can tell it’s a genuine one— and turns to you with a teasing smirk, “Oh, I don’t know… will they?”

You feel the familiar sensation of bees in your belly as you’re put on the spot. All three of them expect your answer so you decide to play Kafka’s game. You meet her stare with the most innocent, lovesick look you can muster, your thumb rubbing the base of her ring finger. You find that you don’t have to try that hard.

“I don’t know about the near future, but… I know I’ve never been in love before knowing her.”

Kafka’s face doesn’t change, her meticulously practiced mask never slips, and you look at each other with equally heavy stares. Time seems to slow if only for the few seconds it takes for your new acquaintance to make an exaggerated sound of excitement. The moment breaks, you both look away at the same time and the conversation quickly resumes with pointless inquiries about your (fake?) relationship and the auction.

After some time, you glance at your watch and feel somewhat vindicated by the fact that the auction will start soon, giving you a reason to excuse yourself from the conversation. You’re also excited by what will happen next.

“It was nice meeting you both,” you offer the woman a smile and a nod, not dwelling on the blush of her cheeks, “but we have to find our seats. It’d be a shame to be all the way at the back with so many almost priceless items on display tonight.”

She laughs quietly and you miss the furtive look Kafka sends your way.

“Of course, of course…” The brunette sighs, then smiles sweetly. “Maybe we’ll end up seated next to each other.”

You don’t say anything to that. Kafka politely bids them goodbye and walks in the opposite direction, the hand laced with yours tugging you along. You meet with the rest of the guests, spark up short conversations from every corner of the room. Despite enjoying your performance, you find your audience lacking. Arrogance and pretentiousness reside in every business man, celebrity, political figure that you talk to and you quickly develop disdain for almost every person at this event. None of them deserve the social advantage that they have; you feel restless with the desire to humble them.

With each guest filing into the auction room until all the seats are filled, it’s time for the next part of the script to unfold. You take your seats at the front right near the small built-in stage. Two staff members carefully roll out the auction items as the auctioneer steps before the microphone and greets his audience. Kafka’s hand is on your knee, forefinger tracing insignificant patterns into the fabric of your pants while you wait for the last and most important item to be presented. The Stellaron, trapped inside a large, almost translucent mineral, emits an energy felt by the entire room as it’s brought on stage in a glass case. It glitters in the light like a precious jewel and catches the attention of each buyer. Kafka squeezes your knee once. It’s go time.

Stealing the Stellaron is laughably easy. Due to Kafka’s Spirit Whisper, not a single member of the audience can find the strength to stand up from their seat as you hop to your feet and saunter on stage. The auctioneer stammers about it not being allowed, but he’s dealt with just as the others are and soon, he’s frozen where he stands, trembling like a leaf in the wind. Confused murmurs and panicked shouts fill the air when the guests realize their predicament, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Kafka handles the Stellaron with care while you browse the selection of items on display with a pensive hum.

An antique vase catches your eye. It curves at the top and opens like a blooming flower; designs that mean nothing to you seem carved right into the glass, so you take it out if it’s case for a closer look. It’s a bit heavy despite measuring less than two feet. You decide to keep it and eventually gift it to Kafka knowing she would be able to find the beauty in it. As the clamor of people’s voices rise around you, an idea strikes you. You turn to Kafka.

“The script only said we would steal the Stellaron and leave the museum at 20:56 system time…”

A small smile appears on Kafka’s lips. “What are you thinking?”

“This place reeks of supposed social superiority,” you trail your fingers on top of a case containing an old ceramic disk with contrasting colors and patterns. You push it off the table and it explodes into cutting shards. Amidst the chaos, loud gasps of indignation follow. “I want to tear it down.”

Kafka’s smile widens.

Twenty minutes later, you’re on your way back to the base exactly as Elio foresaw, with Silver Wolf in the driver's seat making a quick getaway as the museum’s alarms sound behind you. You huff out a breathy laugh once in the back seat, heart thundering in your chest from the adrenaline. You had to incapacitate some security guards on the way out, the chase is your second favorite part. It feels great, your fingertips twitch with exhilaration as the car swerves between other vehicles on the road, ignoring red lights and stop signs. Kafka leans on the head rest next to you, looking at you with something you can’t fully decipher. In the darkness of the backseat it’s hard to read her gaze, especially with her contacts on, but you recognize the way her eyes flicker between yours, then to your mouth. She doesn’t have to say anything, your hands suddenly cup her cheeks and your lips crash into hers. The breath is knocked out of you with both her kiss and the lingering adrenaline. Her hand snakes around your neck to bring you closer, her teeth sink into your bottom lip when she pulls away for half a second. She’s rougher than usual with a sense of urgency accompanying her touches; her free fingers sneak under your coat to grip your shirt.

“Can you not?” Silver Wolf makes a noise of disgust and her sudden intervention pulls you out of the daze you were in. “I swear, I’ll crash this stupid car.”

Kafka chuckles, separating herself from you. Her hand stays beneath your coat. “Don’t be so dramatic. A mission well done deserves a proper celebration, don’t you think?”

“I don’t care what you do, as long as it’s not in front of me.”

“We’re behind you…” you mutter, inhaling deeply to calm your shaky hands.

You ignore the middle finger Silver Wolf sends your way. You lean into the seat, eyes closed, and regain full control of your body with a few slow breaths. Kafka’s hand trails down your shirt to your lap. As you turn your head to look at her, you find her gaze already on you. The unfamiliar glint in it is still present, seemingly making her irises darker, then the corners of her mouth lift in a softer smile than she’d normally offer you.

“Let’s play a round of Truth or Lie,” she says suddenly.

Apart from being a fun game you both enjoy, it’s somewhat become your way of discussing serious matters without having to lay yourselves bare. The existence of a lie adds a layer of protection that neither of you can go without. You tilt your head at the suggestion.

“Okay. You start.”

Kafka takes a few seconds to reply, as if thinking of how to phrase her question. You’re careful to school your features into a picture of neutrality so as to not be caught off guard. She hums, then speaks up.

“Did you mean what you said earlier, to that woman?”

You don’t need to ask for clarification on what she’s referring to. Though her smile hasn’t slipped off her face, Kafka’s expression is guarded.

“Am I that good a liar you couldn’t tell?” You tease, an eyebrow raised.

“Is that one of your questions?”

You look past her as you think. Yes, something in you meant what you said then. You recognize this certainty, it’s as real as the earlier thrill in your veins. Being with Kafka is never boring, always brings something new, and you’ve never felt this way before meeting her. It’s an electrifying feeling that travels from your toes to wake the rest of your body, not unlike a shock, except that this is something you can’t help but crave. Beyond the curtains of this beautiful stage you act in lies a sort of yearning for more of how she makes you feel, of her hand in yours as you reenact this rehearsed play of two emotionally guarded beings finding closeness in each other. Are you in love with her? Yes, you are.

“No,” you shake your head, “to answer your first question. I was in character.”

Kafka stares at you for a moment, searching your face for the truth. You smile at her.

“Mm. You turn.”

Your fingers fiddle with her hand on your lap. Silver Wolf takes a sharper turn than necessary and the car swerves to the right. “Are you disappointed by my answer?”

“…No. I’m not.”

You can’t read her at all. You suppose that’s the point of the game. You arrive at your destination before you can finish the round and Silver Wolf wastes no time in hopping out of the car and into the building. There’s a spring in your step as you follow suit with Kafka in tow.

You’re already working towards unbuttoning your coat and uncuffing your shirt when you step into Kafka’s dark room. She flicks the switch behind you, illuminating the room. She takes off her earrings and you take a seat on the bed after slipping out of your loafers. You stretch your arms above your head, letting out a long sigh. Kafka discards her jewelry on top of a dresser.

“You know…” she turns to you before leaning into the furniture and looking you over like she did earlier this evening. You stop loosening your tie as she speaks, lifting your head to meet her eyes. “You looked beautiful tonight.”

You feel a playful smile stretch your lips. “Oh, yeah?”

“Mm. You nearly had that poor woman combusting in place.”

Your brows furrow briefly as you recall the exchange. You viewed her interest as superficial, something she felt compelled to be because of how obviously uneasy social events of that nature made her. It showed in the way she clung to her husband and how clumsy she was at navigating the conversation. Still, Kafka’s words are laced with a tinge of possessiveness you almost never see in her. A smirk slowly spreads across your face.

“She had a husband,” you remind her.

“Who spent half the conversation looking at my chest. They likely had nothing between them. But you knew that.”

You did not. You genuinely thought she was overcompensating and were too busy playing a clip of her husband getting fatally injured over and over in your mind after catching his eyes on Kafka. It’s funny that she would think you were flirting on purpose, though.

Kafka takes slow strides towards you. She stands in front of you and a bare foot slides between your calves to nudge them apart. You take hold of her waist, looking up at her with an innocent smile.

“You liked the attention,” she states with a finger under your chin. She wears a smile as her other hand comes up to strike your hair.

“You sound jealous.”

Kafka laughs softly, fingers splaying out over your cheek. Her thumb soothingly rubs your skin. You resist the urge to close your eyes. “Cute. What’s there to be jealous of when you’re pliable in my hands?” Her knee sinks into the mattress between your legs and she leans closer. “A block of clay to be shaped and molded. That’s what you are.”

“And you’re so eager to put your hands on me, to have me for yourself that another woman laughing at my jokes tickles you.”

Her thumb traces the outline of your bottom lip. “Eager?”

“Like a pup.”

Her smile doesn’t waver. She pushes her digit past your lips and it gets caught between your teeth as you make a noise of surprise at the sudden intrusion. You relax after a second, your tongue swirling around her finger while you maintain eye contact with her. There’s a dangerous heat in the way she looks at you, an unsaid warning that you choose to ignore.

“Brat.” Kafka takes her thumb out of your mouth and observes how it shines in the light. “You know what I do with them, don’t you?”

“You fuck them?”

The smile on her face grows larger. The way she touches you is inherently condescending, the overly sweet strokes of your hair and fake gentleness as she cups your cheek and leans close to you as if to kiss you are subtle reminders of her control over you. You stare into her eyes with fluttering eyelashes.

“Sweet girls get orgasms. A brat like you, on the other hand…”

You feel her breath on your parted lips and expect a kiss that doesn’t come. Instead Kafka tears herself from you and straightens up. Your hands leave her waist as she takes a step back and brings her hand to her chin in contemplation.

“I think I’ll tie you up.”

She does just that. You bite your bottom lip to muffle a whine, wrists absentmindedly tugging against their pretty, silken restraints. Kafka’s ropes hold your arms above your head to each corner of the headboard and slightly dig into your skin the more your muscles struggle. She effortlessly ties you up like a lovely present before you can prepare a snarky remark. The pink webs obey her command, unlike you, and keep you in place while she climbs over you to leisurely undress you. She starts at your neck, loosening your tie to place wet kisses on your skin. Her teeth sink into your flesh and she is without remorse when you hiss at the sensation. She suckles the bite, her tongue occasionally darting out to soothe the mark in slow strokes. Her hands expertly undo the button of your shirt without needing to look at her work. You feel her warm tongue trailing down to your collarbone as she removes your shirt. One of her knees stays between your thighs, unmoving.

Kafka lifts her head to look at the reveal of your skin once your shirt is discarded somewhere on the floor. Her palms travel up and down your stomach, squeeze at the waist and knead your covered breasts over your bra, all the while following their movements with lidded eyes. You swallow. You don’t say a word because you know she’ll go even slower if pressured to pick up the pace, but your skin is hot and your cunt already pulses between your legs at her tame ministrations. Kafka pulls down the cup of your bra with a finger, freeing a hardened nipple.

“Erect already?” She teases. “I only took off your shirt.”

“Shut up,” the words leave your mouth without thinking and your lips part in surprise when she uses two fingers to harshly twist your nipple. “Ah!”

“Wanna try again?”

You take a breath. “Acting like I’m the eager one when I know you’ve already ruined your pan— Mmh!”

Pleasure courses through you as your nipple is pinched between her fingertips. Her hands run around your chest to unclasp your bra and toss it aside, then resume their work on your breasts. Her thumbs swipe over your nipples, applying pressure that pathetically quickens your breathing. Kafka licks her lips but doesn’t use her mouth on you. She watches how your plush mounds move under her hands and take whatever shape she wants them to. She grabs a handful of each breast, squeezing and kneading until you’re exhaling through your mouth. Then she slowly moves down to your hips, rubbing the skin. She has to adjust her position in order to take off your pants and she settles between your thighs once the task is done.

Your thighs spread apart to accommodate her body. Kafka looks up at you, amused, but doesn’t comment on the gesture. Her palms rub into your soft skin, trailing up and down your inner thighs. A dark spot spreads from where arousal dampens your gray underwear.

“If only you could see how wet you’re getting,” she sighs lustfully, “maybe we should do this in front of the mirror. What do you think?”

You bite the inside of your cheek at the suggestion. Kafka hooks a forefinger under your underwear and pulls to reveal your glistening sex. Her voice lowers perceivably.

“Mm? Is thinking about me fucking you in front of a mirror getting you all wet?”

Her index trails down your folds and touches your clit as it does, making you suck your lip into your mouth to keep in a low moan. Kafka observes her finger between your lips, how your arousal coats the better part of it as it teases your pussy. She’ll have you a complete sticky mess before the night is over. The thought makes her cunt clench. She slides your panties down your legs until they no longer hide your puffy pussy from her sight. She uses two fingers to spread your lips and looks up at you.

“If you were well-behaved, I’d be licking you clean right now. Too bad you’re not.”

You groan in slight frustration. “Come on. Just fuck me like you mean it.”

“Oh, I’ll fuck you.” Kafka’s eyes narrow. She pulls her fingers away from your cunt completely. “And when I do, you won’t be able to remember a thing but how good I feel inside you.”

Kafka stands upright, ignoring your little whine to rummage through her drawers instead. She picks up a couple of things and you’re breathless when you see the strap-on and vibrator in her hands as she returns to your side. Your thighs clench together in a fruitless attempt at relieving pressure in your lower belly. You feel your arousal on your inner thighs, coating them in sticky juices. Kafka waves a hand and silk threads wrap around your flesh, forcing you to keep your legs spread for her. You try to move but apart from the quiver of your muscles, nothing happens.

“You haven’t earned that one yet,” Kafka gestures with the plastic cock and tosses it on the bed. She turns the small vibrator over in her palm, messing around with the settings until she finally settles on the lowest one. It pulses as it’s pressed against your cunt and you don’t bother covering up the moan that escapes you. “This will do for now.”

The vibrations on your pussy are so good, so relieving you throw your head back with a breathy moan. You feel each one reverberate through your body and soon, your hips are trying to move along for more friction. You buck your hips, hoping the movement will make it touch your clit for even a second. Kafka watches your growing desperation with apathy. She runs the vibrator up and down your slit, purposely ignoring your aching clit. Positioning it at your entrance covers the head in arousal and she’s tempted to push it in just to see how your cunt greedily sucks in anything she gives you. She makes you suffer longer, caresses your labia with the toy and pulls it away when she sees you clench from the pleasure. With it being at the lowest setting, the throb is a welcomed sensation but isn’t enough to make you come. Trying to move your body is useless; the thin ropes around your limbs keep you exactly how Kafka wants you: defenseless.

You inhale sharply through your mouth as she rubs the toy into your cunt. You know begging won’t help your cause and will only serve to humiliate you. Pleading to her good conscience is just as worthless, but you need to come so badly and Kafka will only allow you to do it on her terms. So, you provoke her.

“That— Mmh, that woman from the auction,” you manage to breathe out, and Kafka instantly meets your eyes. “Bet… she’d be so eager to make me come if I asked.”

Kafka doesn’t move for a moment. The vibrator is still pressed against your pussy, making you let out little whines, but her hand isn’t moving and she’s simply looking at you like she’s trying to figure you out. You know she sees through you, your mind is too taken by the idea of pleasure to bother hiding yourself from her searching gaze. She seems to debate with herself on something and when you think she just won’t bite your bait, she turns off the vibrator. You watch as she stands to let her dress slip to the floor. Apprehension curls around your throat as she steps into the harness of the strap-on and adjusts it around her hips. Her silence makes your gut flutter with nervousness. Then she chuckles to herself and that only worsens the feeling.

Kafka hovers over you, fingers digging into your skin as she grabs your jaw and guides your gaze to hers. Her nails will surely leave crescent marks behind, but you can only focus on the dull pink of her irises. With her free hand, she guides the plastic cock between your folds, coating it in your slick and grazing your clit in the process. Your following moan is muffled by the grip on your jaw. She spreads your arousal over the dick, pumping it once, twice, three times before her sticky fingers grip your waist and she pushes half of the length into you at once.

You groan in surprise, unaccustomed to the sudden fullness. You feel the toy stretching your walls and Kafka doesn’t allow you to get used to the sensation before thrusting the entirety of it inside your fluttering cunt.

“Fuck, w— wait…” you gasp out, wrists struggling against the ropes and thighs trembling. “I was—” A whimper escapes you as Kafka pulls out almost completely just to drive into you again. “Was joking, baby…”

“Shut up and take it.”

You have no choice but to comply. Kafka thrusts into you, unrelenting and apathetic to the way the sensations overwhelm you instantly after so much teasing. Her dick rubs your walls deliciously and the wet sounds of it pounding into you has you choking out a cry. You don’t get used to the pace, it’s too rough, too fast, and has your orgasm building after only a minute of her inside you. You can’t last, not with Kafka playing you as rigorously as she does the violin, fingers digging into the flesh of your love handle for stability. You take her cock as she orders you to and whimper against her lips when she leans forward to press her mouth to yours for the first time tonight. Her kiss is as rough as her strokes, leaving you breathless, a mindless puppet only able to mutter her name. As her tongue enters your mouth to tease yours, the hand around your jaw leaves so that her middle finger harshly rubs your clit. It’s too much for you to handle at once. Your cunt swallows her cock as you come with her name out your lips, squeezing her like a vice.

Kafka doesn’t slow down her thrusts, fucking you through your orgasm and maintaining the pressure on your pulsing clit until you feel another one coming.

“Kafka—” You whine, throat hoarse, “too much…”

“Mmh? That’s what you wanted. Be grateful I didn’t leave you there, cunt aching for me to fill you. You’ll take what I give you.”

Her eyes drink you in, she commits your twisting brows and trembling lips to memory; her mind takes live pictures of you under her, whimpering as you greedily take her cock, until there’s an entire gallery of your fucked out expression inside her head. The sight makes her wetter and needy for release, but it’s not enough. With an arm around your shoulder and the use of her webs, Kafka manipulates your weak body into straddling her lap as she sits up on the bed. Your wrists are still tied together, your arms around her neck, but your thighs quiver as the ropes vanish around them. She holds you up with two hands on your hips and pushes you down onto her length. Your eyes are closed, your lips parted, and you let her guide you up and down her cock until you’re coming again. Kafka watches your slick slide down the dildo and groans, wishing she could pump her own cum into your cunt and watch it leak out of you as she fills you. The toy is drenched in cum and she doesn’t look away as it disappears inside your throbbing pussy, can’t; she feels her own slick run down her thighs just from watching how messy you’re getting her cock.

“Can’t take it,” you breathe out, “mmh…”

Kafka looks up at you. She briefly takes your nipple in her mouth, swirling her tongue around it, before letting go and murmuring into your skin, “You can, baby. You’re taking me so well.”

You whine, hips faltering. The length of her cock buries into you in a harsh thrust upwards and you can’t make a sound as you come hard, your face in Kafka’s neck. Your arms shake from the pleasure that assaults you at once. Your toes curl and the breath leaves your lungs. Kafka doesn’t pull out as you come down from your high a panting mess. Your limbs feel twice as heavy. Her hand strokes your hair while you breathe in and out sharply. She gives you some time to calm down, then pulls you away from her neck with the hand in your hair and kisses you messily; you feel her tongue on your bottom lip and her saliva mix with yours. She breathes out into your open mouth, a low moan escaping her.

Kafka squeezes your hip and mutters into your mouth, “You’ll give me another one, won’t you?”

Though it’s phrased as one, you know it’s not a question at all. This is what you get for provoking her, and she won’t stop until she’s entirely satisfied.

#honkai star rail #hsr kafka #hsr #hsr x reader #kafka x reader #kafka x you #kafka smut #hsr smut #sub!reader #hsr x you #kafka fluff #kafka honkai star rail #hsr fanfic #dom!kafka

376 notes · View notes

anlian-aishang · 3 months ago

Text

Levi with an (Episodically) Depressed S/O

Tags: levi x reader, angst, hurt-comfort, gn!reader Word count: 900

Levi invites you to shower with him, making the obstacle less daunting and much more attractive. In his black robe, leaning on your bedroom door, two towels slung over his arm indicate the knowledge that you will say yes and accompany him. The way that he looks, the low plea in his voice, how could you say no?

It would be more accurate to say that he was bathing you, but he does not phrase it that way. Instead, he is humble, letting his actions speak louder than words. He does not tell you that he will shampoo your matted hair, does not flaunt how deliberately he exfoliates your limbs, he just does them for you. Some days, even just tipping the bottle or pumping some soap into your hand can seem mountainous. On those days, he sees those activities not as tasks, but as privileges. It is his honor to be the one looking after you in your most dire time. He would always prefer someone to take care of rather than someone to miss.

Showering together not only ensures that you stay clean, but his company prevents you from those timeless sessions sat on the tile floor. At the moment you look refreshed but before you become sleepy, he jerks the handle to the left and halts the devastatingly relaxing rain.

Always, your clean clothes are already folded atop the bathroom counter, waiting for you. Some times, you fail to remember that you did not put them there. Other times, you notice the sign of his relentless consideration, but are artificially silenced from expressing your gratitude. No matter in his mind. You are clean, clothed, and out of bed, and that’s already better than you were before.

Without one complaint, Levi scoops your dampened towel and old clothes from the wet bathroom floor and drops them in the hamper for you. He has seen the piles that can amass, and if it were anyone else in any other circumstance, the clean freak would be quick to chastise, but any sight or thought of you disintegrates any instinct to discipline. You are sat in the living room, admiring the ivy that swirls around the balcony’s posts, thumbing the petals of the bouquet vased on the coffee table. White-gold rays move just a tad west to cast your figure in therapeutic light. You’re too tired to move away from the sun, and for once, Levi finds your fatigue favorable. As the morning temperature rises, he can see that your resting smile does as well.

While you are entranced with the scenes of summer, Levi swiftly searches for and alleviates the areas you have left neglected. He dumps your sock drawer upside down and mends the pairs that you have discarded as singles. In your closet, he finds the clean pile and dirty pile and either folds it or washes it accordingly. Under your bed, on your nightstand, in your bedside drawer, he discovers the dirty dishes that have been missing the sink and returns them to their proper place.

Between those tasks, he rolls his shoulders back or rubs the side of his neck and allows himself to sigh. It is difficult - not to bandage these tiny wounds - but to see the harsh bruises left by the illness. Sure, you were forgetful, and not quite as tidy as he was, but still - the mounds of laundry, hidden dirty dishes - this wasn’t like you. Levi lives for your joy - not the superficial smile, your peace - not the misleading silence. He lives for you - in sickness and in health. The times you forget your worth, that is when he whispers it in your ear. When the world is overwhelming you, he lets his touch communicate it.

Once your space is in order, he can start to work on getting you to leave it. Rather than annoying reminders or obligations, he mindfully manipulates the steps of treatment into desirable invitations. Rather than Do you want to… or Would you like to…, his proposals are statements, taking the responsibility out of your hands. Concerts in the park this afternoon. Let’s go to the farmers market. Apple orchard just opened.

Or even less far away.

Plants look thirsty, water them with me? Rain just cleared, read on the porch with me? Full moon tonight, stargaze with me?

To you, with me frames the activities, frames your presence as favors for him, and even in your lowest state, you are always keen to help him with anything. To Levi, it is no framing, your relationship is the greatest gift that fate has bestowed on him, and he treats you as such. It is in his selfless actions and his careful words, but it is more than that, traits you can’t quite categorize. The near flat, subtle smile you wake up to in the morning. The tight yet painless combs through your hair that leave you feeling divine. The low, calming timbre of his voice, decorated with a tender tone that he reserves for you.

Even before the haze you’re in now, you’ve never been able to label those qualities of his, and instead settled: it’s just who he is.

Like the sentiment that motivates his care: it’s what you deserve.

// masterlist //

#Optional A/N: I've been away from tumblr for a while. I had absolutely no expectation that anyone would notice #so please don't feel bad if you didn't notice! <3 #i was going through - and am still going through - some intense health problems; mental and physical #so that's why i was gone~ but i've started mental health medication and it's starting to help me.#i can tell because today was the first day that i wrote fanfic in all of 2024 <3 oh how i've missed it #but i've missed the friends i have here more.#sorry for my random leave. please know it was not you - it was me #and my neurons originating in the raphe nuclei located in the midline of the brainstem that failed to make sufficient serotonin :')#anyways thank you all love youuuuuuuuu #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi #levi ackerman #levi x you #levi ackerman x you #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot x you #snk x you #2024 #angst #headcanon #my writing #anlian writes #alias's #depression tw #tw depression #depression #mental health #tw mental health

160 notes · View notes

mikobeautifulheart · 8 months ago

Text

JJK men when you flinch/think they would hit you.

TW: Assumed past abuse and the misleading idea that they would have hurt you (They wouldn't) AND UNEDITEDDDDD

aha kinda angst ig but kinda fluffy to?

INCLUDING: YUJI AND MEGUMIIIIII

~Yuji~

"Look I didn't know she liked me okay? Kugaraski just texted me to show up to the cafe, she didn't tell me anything."

"Really Yuji? But you knew her before didn't you? Could you not have seen this coming?"

Yuji pulls his hands down his face in frustration. He never thought going to a cafe would make him more annoyed.

"We talked once in High school okay? I didn't know she liked me."

"Its just, its not I don't trust you but she's been messaging me since yesterday about you, I DIDN'T EVEN GIVE HER MY NUMBER!" You said your voice over run with panic.

Yuji takes a deep sigh.

"OKAY, SO BLOCK HER." He yelled, his arm going up to scratch the back of his neck furiously when he noticed that you flinched and let a little gasp slip.

"Y/N-did you just...did you just flinch?" Yuji asked stunned you would ever think that.

He never knew about your previous relationships because you didn't like to talk about them or when ever someone brought your EX up you'd just change the subject or walk away.

"I...I don't know..." you whispered feeling something ripping you inside. You couldn't help it, it was just built into your system.

"I'm sorry Yuji...I just...I didn't see you for a second..." You paused.

He slowly took a step closer and you leaned backward.

"Y/N I would never-I wouldn't hurt you, I'm sorry I just got frustrated, I would never hurt you" He took another step a bit more confidently after seeing you didn't move back any further.

"Yuji i'm sorry" You broke down wiping the tears out of your eyes with his jacket sleeve, which you happened to be wearing.

He finaly reached you and closed the distance with an embrace, hidding your head into his chest.

"Did you really think I would hurt you?" Yuji said tears swelling in his eyes to.

"No, no no no, Yuji I know you would never hurt me because you love me, I just forgot what it was like to be loved by you. You Yuji, you" You burried your face deeper into his chest.

"I love you" he said wiping away his own tears

-Megumi-

You had just finished a mission and you were totally drained. All you wanted to do was go home and lay in Megumi's arms, you wanted it so much you could practically feel it on the whole trip home.

You fumbled with the keys before finally opening the door and walking in.

"I'm home" You mumbled to your self.

All the lights were out so you figured that Megumi was still away on a mission.

You peeled your clothes off and had a shower, crashing face first into your fluffy bed, it felt like heaven, the only thing missing was the angle.

Your phone buzzed beside you, it was Megumi.

"Hello?"

"I'm coming back now, don't talk to me when I'm back."

"What? Why-"

the phone beeped. He hung up on you. You rubbed your eyes in a daze, did you accidently hang up on him? You checked and no, he had just hung up on you.

An hour passes and you heard someone shake the door knob before a frustrated punch sound echoed through your dorm.

The door flung open in frustration, letting in a very agitated Megumi.

"Stupid cursed fingers and dammed curses I'll kill him myself I swear to god- " he muttered under his breath.

You could tell there was a lot of tension on his shoulders and that something bad happened today.

"Megumi? Do you want me to do anything or-"

"I TOLD YOU NOT TO TALK TO ME OVER THE DAMM PHONE WOMAN." He yelled angrily punching the wall next to him making your eyes widen.

Sighed and he walked over to you, making you step back stuck against a wall.

"No, Just UGH, LOOK Y/N Today I just-" Irritation ran through his body so much he didn't even notice that he had raised his arm to run his hand through his hair before he noticed you visibly flinching and whispering

"no" weakly, shutting your eyes tightly, your facial expression like you were going to brace yourself for something painful.

His breath hitched like he just came back to reality. He saw the tears swell in your eyes and he also saw the small cuts on your face. You had been through a lot to, the last thing you probably needed was Megumi being angrey.

"I-I'm so sorry Y/N" He said not even knowing what to do.

You were so tired and pushed to your limits that your body was even struggling to stand up right now. His face changed immediatly.

"I wasn't going to hit you- I swear, I just, 'was so frustrated at stuff and I- I'm sorry." he said taking a step back from you, watching you slowly slide down the wall looking at him.

It was like you were just waiting for it, like this was the end and you had accepted it.

"I, I don't- you weren't Megumi to me for a moment-" You said finally letting the tears go.

"I didn't think you would hit me but you looked like-him- for a moment..."

Megumi took a step slowly crouching Infront of you, holding both your hands.

"Y/N, listen to me. I'm so sorry but I want you to know I would never hurt you, and I never want to see you hurt, even if it meant that I would have to die, I never want to see you injured or scared of me, please forgive me." He said bringing your hands up to him mouth.

You silently nodded as Megumi helped you up and you both laid together in the bed, letting you cry it out.

THANK YOU FOR READING ♡

AUTHOURS NOTE: So I haven't uploaded in a while because...yeah. I have 2 more fics on the way, 1 Gojo angst and a different multi-character fic coming so stay tuned. (Reblogs welcomed if u were curious) Thanks for reading.

286 notes · View notes

apocalyp-tech-a · 6 months ago

Text

Remember in Season 1, Episode 1 Aftermath, Tech says "I am merely stating a theoretical hypothesis based on factual data?" Well, that's what I did, I made a "logical conclusion." From Lama Su coming back when we thought he was dead to the infamous "domicile," it was all factual evidence that was meant to push us in a direction of hoping that Tech would return and that CX-2 could be the way he does it. I'm not stupid, and neither are you. There's an underlying reason that I love Tech not based on just his handsome looks. I don't claim to have an exceptional mind like him and I don't intend to convince anyone that CX-2 was Tech, but I do want to explain how it could be construed through the way that character was presented as well as the possibility of Tech's return in general, that he could have been and none of us were wrong or "losers" to think so.

45 70 Reasons and more well on the way, lol...

General reasons:

*Tech is never seen actually dying.

*Hemlock being untrustworthy source of death certificate.

*The return of many thought to be dead characters in past Star Wars from Darth Maul who was sliced in half to Lama Su - the door closed on him and we thought he was getting shot by troopers only to show up alive later and this happened in The Bad Batch itself.

*CX-2 is shown walking toward the 'light' after dropping off Omega, symbolically toward a future redemption. @astrovoidy

*Height change on starwars.com

*The word 'dead' danced around on official sites and by BB employees

*the similarities to Winter soldier @on-a-quest

*the cryptic tweets that showcased reborn characters like Gandalf

*The official poster of CX-2 shows him in 'good' light. @eriexplosion AND CX-2 is shown looking up and to the side the way the original CF99 members are positioned and facing in their poster as if CX-2 is also a CF99 member

*other people in professional settings like New Rock Stars on youtube thought the same exact thing as well as casual viewers

*the large focus on CX-2, over multiple episodes

*misleading title of last episode "The Cavalry Has Arrived"

*Tech being smart enough to find a solution

*If Season 2 could be compared to Empire Strikes Back, Tech was taken from us the way Han Solo was, but Han Solo was returned so surely Tech would be as well

*no one expected a main ensemble character permadeath

*the fight with Crosshair music had hints of "Plan 99" in it

*Tech’s whole big conversation with Romar was about culture and memory, and he helped Romar restoring a data repository. Between the implication that Tech would have lost his memories and Phee saying, “Tech’s brain was the databank, not mine,” you could easily see that as foreshadowing for Tech getting his memories back. @heyclickadee

*All the little one line reminders and goggles shots up through episode twelve only serve to make the audience want Tech back. They aren’t closure, they’re reminders of his absence. [Tech never being quite mourned.] @heyclickadee

*The goggles are lit, or look like they’re lit, in every scene they’re in except the last one, which sure makes all those earlier shots deliberate. @heyclickadee *CX-2 could have killed all of them at different moments, but chose not to (shooting pilot instead of Hunter for example)

Physical and character similarities:

*the shrimp posture

*the kick in the fight similar to droid kick in S1E1

*the similar hand to hand combat style

*the shooting accuracy- ipsium cave/ plan 99

*the elegant deliberate movement especially of hands and fingers

*the animated head and body when speaking

*the helmet – even has his hairline @jorolle

*the viewfinder similar to Tech's and utilized just as often

*the pouches(!!!)

*the limberness and agility

*the confident capability

*the crouching/getting on one knee - Tech is an infamous croucher!

*the deviant nature – ignoring orders

*the technology know how

*the flying – some say the turn on Teth was a Tech Turn

*the extraness of tool/weapon twirl

*armpad like Tech's datapad @wolveria

*CX-2's ship has similarities to the Marauder @wolveria

*Tech CC-9902 / CX-2 - both end in 2 @wolveria

*We are reminded this season that Tech was especially good at decryption. What do we see CX-2 doing on Phee’s ship? Yeah. @heyclickadee

*Season two went out of its way to establish that Tech has a high pain tolerance, is a good close range fighter (he won a life-or-death fight with a guy when he had that broken femur), quick processing speed, and is an excellent shot. All skills we see CX-2 exhibit. @heyclickadee

The 'British' accent, speech inflection, pronunciation. and vocabulary (this alone is enough to convince anyone...):

'You better get back HERE." - "I know the girl is HERE."

"The fifth IS Omega." - "The girl IS alive."

"Who are you?" - "Who are you?"

"Naveecomputah." - "Neveecomputah."

"DOMICILE." - "DOMICLE."

Cinematic framing similarities:

*the limping

*the coming out of the water @lilacjunimo

*hooking the rappel hook rappelling down was like dangling off the rail car

*the boulder moving

*helmet viewpoint from CX-2 in finale, only BB members ever had that

Conjectural situations of suspicion:

*the beef with Crosshair

*the constant surviving

*the pausing when choking Crosshair

*the pausing to look at Phee

*The implications that Crosshair seems to know something about CX-2 (he wants to get out of dodge when he knows CX-2 is coming), and the intense lingering guilt Crosshair feels—and which is never dealt with! It’s still there through the finale—implying he knows or suspects it’s Tech. @heyclickadee

*“Whatever they did to you, whatever you’ve done, you’re still one of us,” offered by Rex towards the CXs @heyclickadee

*Crosshair’s character arc this season being partly about realizing that anyone can change and that no one is really beyond saving, which would have continued going somewhere if he thought CX-2 was Tech and considered him beyond saving, but then changed his mind and realized he needed to try. Notice that he does not engage CX-2 in 11 like he did in 7, and that this comes after his revelation about giving people a chance in 9. @heyclickadee

*CX-2 is even more Tech like in 11 than he was in 6 and 7. This implies that he could be starting to wake up, and that almost killing Crosshair triggered that. He doesn’t kill anyone except one of his own guys on Pabu (or Phee) even though it would make his job much easier. He even has Hunter and Wrecker in his sights and moves his aim to not shoot them directly. @heyclickadee

*Crosshair has no way to know that the CX’d clones come out different and that their identities are erased unless it happened to someone we know. In fact, there’s not reason for the CX plot to exist unless that horrific thing happens to someone we know. @heyclickadee

*The first episode of the show starts out with Hunter covering for someone who supposedly died in a fall. In fact, there are direct parallels in the lines: “Where’s the Jedi?” “I stunned him when he jumped. He didn’t make it.” vs “Where’s Tech?” “Omega…Tech didn’t make it.” I’m not saying Hunter was covering for Tech; I am saying that is the only place in the script where we see those phrases matched up. @heyclickadee

*Tech being CX-2 would have fit in perfectly with each member of the batch experiencing a traumatic loss (and regaining) of agency that correlated directly to who and how they are as people. @heyclickadee

Foreshadowing lines:

*More machine than man, percentage wise at least.

*Better late than dead.

*See you around, Brown Eyes.

*Tech's not gone.

*The operative's gone rogue.

*Romar saying he's a survivor and Tech's look at him.

*Don't go running off with any pirates or smugglers. @heyclickadee

Abandoned storyline reasons:

*The romance with Phee, surely it wouldn't be abandoned!? 🙄😡

*CX-2's death being anticlimactic

*The finale seeming rushed and incomplete

*Actors saying there were script changes

*CX-2's accent in the finale was not only not like Tech's as it was in previous episodes, it wasn't even a clone accent (wtf was that) signaling a script change

@wolveria made a great analysis here with her Tech-Genda !

@heyclickadee gave a great analysis here and also great evidence, more in comments!

@vivaislenska has a list as well with some of these points!

@eriexplosion has a great analysis here!

Having said that, here are some reasons it may not have been him:

*Too many characters coming back from the dead.

*The way he says 'clones' in Infiltration was more reg accent.

*Tech's line in the cave to Omega which "was a big one to me” in retrospect: "I am aware that you miss him, but we have to adapt and move on."

As for the intentions of the writers to either have been forced to change the script, but can't admit it due to NDAs or if they truly meant for CX-2 to be Crosshair's foil which to me was unclear, especially with all of the evidence above, I don't know. At least they could have made CX-2 talk and move like a reg. Making him talk and walk like Tech was kind of cruel on top of a cruel we already experienced in Plan 99. I am not personally attacking the writers, I still love Season 1 and 2 and most of Season 3, but I wish I knew what happened behind the scenes with this and I know I'm not the only one. I think this is the last time I'll personally address Season 3 or the finale unless to support other commentators/creators and for my own fix-it and art and writing. And I look forward to seeing everyone else's works as well and hope no one gives up this beautiful Batch or fandom as I almost did. Canon seems done with him, he belongs to us now. 💜

And if anyone has anything I missed (I'm sure I'll think of more myself), feel free to comment or reblog with that addition or a link to your own post and/or I can edit the OP to include it and tag you. Also, don't feel like you can't make your own post about this subject! But I do hope this maybe helped anyone still dealing with the 'aftermath' like me, to know you're not alone, and you did not read too much into it.

(In retrospect, I can't believe they killed him though, lol. What the kriff were they thinking!?! #too handsome to die #too awesome to die)

#tbb spoilers #the bad batch spoilers #star wars #the bad batch #cx-2 #tech the bad batch #tech tbb #tbb #analysis #the bad batch season 3 #TECH LIVES!#DOMICILE y'all!!! what the kriff...

214 notes · View notes

minniesmutt · 5 months ago

Text

☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐲

☾ ━━━ PAIRING: HYUNJIN X READER ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: VILLAIN!HYUNJIN, FEM!HERO!READER, HYUNJIN OBSESSED W/ READER, EXES TO ???, SEX TOYS, LINGERIE, STALKING (?), CORRUPTION KINK, MENTIONS OF TOXIC RELATIONSHIP, CHOKING, FINGERING, CLIT PLAY, BOOB/NIPPLE PLAY, HANDCUFFS, HARD DOM!HYUNJIN, ORAL (F. REC), UNPROTECTED SEX, THEY’RE MEAN TO EACH OTHER, PET NAMES (BEAUTIFUL, DARLING,), (1) PUSSY SLAP, SEX TOYS, BEGGING, ORGASM DENIAL, CREAMPIE, VIBRATOR TORTURE, IMPLIED MORE ROUNDS ☾ ━━━ WC: 2.9K ☾ ━━━ repost from old blog ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

It was a game to him. A little bit of cat and mouse. Who was who didn't matter? It was fun either way. It was a long game.

To her, it was a frustration. Dealing with his misleading games. From small petty crimes to large-scale ones, he evaded her. Leaving the scene just as she got there leaving a note.

‘Next time, beautiful. - H’

A rose with every letter he left. Stumping his little hero in her tracks before he let her catch onto him. Purposefully letting her catch a glimpse of him when she came to stop him. Leaving hints till he was just within reach of him.

Playing his cards right to lead her to some dingy nightclub. Getting lost in the crowd. Watching her look for him till he caught her off guard. He was the cat tonight.

Quickly walked up behind her on the crowded dance floor and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her back into his chest. Leaning into his ear. “Don’t turn around, beautiful.”

“Whatever you're planning, don't.” She replied.

“Then you’ll follow me,” he told her, pulling her out of the crowd and down a hallway.

There was barely any light in the hallway. She couldn't even see his face. Just his silhouette— tall and slender. Shorter hair bounced slightly as he walked.

Making a sharp turn into a room before pulling her in. Keeping the lights off as he pushed her against the wall. Pushing his body right against hers. Even in the dark, she could tell he was smirking.

“What are you after?” She asked, waiting for her to adjust to the dark to make out his face.

“Originally, just the thrill and money. Then you came to the city.”

She knew that voice. Just couldn’t figure out where.

“What do I have to do with this?” she asked

“You haven’t figured it out, darling?”

“Hyu—”

Y/n was cut off from her sentence by his lips. Those plump lips that took her forever to forget. Just confirming her guess. Only he had ever called her that nickname.

His lips left hers as quickly as they were on hers. “Told you we’d meet again. Just need you to want me like I want you, again.”

Hyunjin pulled away from her and quickly left the room. Y/n followed him a second too late. He was gone as quickly as he appeared.

She wasn't aware he was living a double life when they met. She’d just moved to the city for work. She started her ‘volunteer work’ a few days later and two weeks later she met Hyunjin when she was grabbing coffee before work. He had come up and asked her on a date. What could go wrong?

Maybe it was his possessiveness that set her off. Some was fine but it had caused so many arguments between them in the few months they were together. If they weren’t fighting, they were fucking.

It wasn’t healthy so she ended things. Five months went by without a hitch. Two months ago, “H” started messing with her. Now everything was making sense to her.

She was happy she was off from her day job the next day. Sitting on her couch with her computer and a cup of coffee, hacking into the police department records. There wasn't anything on Hyunjin, he was good at covering his tracks so the cops hadn’t caught him.

She jumped when she heard her doorbell buzz. She shut her laptop and walked to her apartment door. Seeing a flower delivery man through her peephole. Sighing as she opened the door.

“For Y/n L/n,” He said

“Thank you,” Y/n smiled, taking the bouquet from him and closing the door.

Red roses. A signature at this point for him but she still read the note sticking out from the top.

‘I know you’re looking for me, darling. You’ll only find me when I want you to. Keep thinking of me ♡- Hyunjin’

The pattern repeated every week. She’d look for him but it’d seem he disappeared. His little crime spree seemed to stop, but not other criminals. She did her job in the dead of night. Leaving them for the cops to pick up later. Even though it was their job to catch the criminals in the city, when she got home in the early hours of the morning, there was always something. Notes, flowers, gifts. His attempt at winning her back. Everything but the notes was tossed.

She had a distaste for how often he was on her mind now. She’d barely thought about him in months but their nightclub encounter was messing with her head. Then she’d drift to their good times— however rare they were.

Maybe that's how she found herself at the same nightclub. Her eyes peeled for him but he never showed. Rather she was hit on by drunk men all night till she called it quits heading back to her apartment building. Parking her car and heading back up to her unit.

She sensed something off when she opened her door. Nothing was out of place, everything was locked. Nonetheless, she quietly closed her front door and locked it. Slipping off her shoes and hanging up her things while grabbing one of the throwing knives she carried out her bag to check her rooms. Just to find nothing but a gift box on her bed.

Slowly she walked towards it and undid the ribbon. Jumping as her phone rang.

She grabbed it out of her pocket and looked at the screen. Unknown caller. She answered the call, pressing the phone to her ear.

“Not gonna finish opening your present?” Hyunjin’s voice rang the speaker

“Where are you Hyunjin,” Y/n said

“Mhm, I missed the way you say my name,” he chuckled on the other end of the line. Fuck that laugh

Y/n put her phone on speaker and set it on her bed while she opened the box. Tissue paper covering whatever was under it. Lifting the tissue to find a red and black lingerie set with an egg vibrator sitting on top.

“You like your gift darling?”

“Are you out of your mind?” Y/n asked after taking the phone off speaker

“Mmmm, yes. I am. But you are too.”

“I’m perfectly sane.”

“Perfectly sane people don’t jump from buildings every night and take out shitty excuses for criminals. Or chase after their exes”

“I’m not chasing you.”

“You’re not?” Hyunjin laughed again, “Then why go to that club again? Definitely didn’t look like you were interested in any of the drunks that came up to you.”

He was there. And he was watching.

“Admit it Y/n, you need me. All over again. We were almost perfect together.”

“Fighting and fucking all the time was ‘almost perfect’ to you?”

“The fucking, yes. Could’ve done with less fighting.”

“That’s why I left.”

“But here you are, chasing me.”

Y/n went to say something else but he hung up. She tried calling back but nothing. Sighing in frustration she threw her phone on her bed. Moving the box off her bed and stepping out onto her fire escape for some air. She should just go to sleep but didn’t think she would be able to. It was nearing four in the morning.

Putting pieces together on a chilly night. Hyunjin knew where she was— not that she moved after their breakup— and how to get in. He possibly could have made a copy of her key and was using that. But there weren’t any threats or danger in his actions. He was just obsessed. Which matched with his possessiveness.

He was also watching her. How? She had no clue. She went back inside and checked her whole apartment for cameras or microphones. Nothing. That meant he was close by.

Y/n went on about her life. Keeping an eye on her surroundings for him. Waiting to see if he would slip up. And he did.

Her coworkers had insisted on going out over the weekend. A group of them going out to the club and opening a tab. Forgetting about the work stress of dancing and alcohol.

Hyunjin followed, just as he had. His whole plan was working far too slowly for his taste. Materialistic things weren’t working like he thought. Maybe he could get her alone again. And luck was on his side. Her group had left her on the dance floor and he was behind her in seconds, hands on her hips

“You look good,” He whispered in her ear

“Still trying?” She laughed as she turned to him

“You’re worth trying for.”

“What’s your end goal here, Hyunjin?” She asked as she pulled him closer to her, just to have a semi-private conversation on the dance floor.

“Fuck you till you’re as crazy as I am.”

Y/n looked over his facial expression. He was serious with that devilish smile of his. Leaning in till his lips ghosted her ear. “It’s not like anyone after me has gotten you off like I have. Isn’t that right?”

“Been keeping that close of tabs, have you?” Y/n tried not to let it phase her

“Of course I have. Tell me I’m right.”

Hyunjin lifted a hand to hold her chin while he locked eye contact with her, “Tell me I’m right, and I’ll give you all those pretty orgasms you’ve been missing.”

“Fuck you,” Y/n said before pulling him to her lips.

Hyunjin responded quickly and let his hand rest against her neck. Smiling into their heated kiss before pulling back. “That's my girl.”

Y/n quickly pulled both of them out of the club. Hyunjin smirked at her eagerness, letting her drag him out to the alleyway behind the club. Pressing him up against the wall and pressing her lips to his again.

Hyunjin moaned into her lips before flipping them so she was against the wall. Pressing her hips against his while she gripped his jacket. Slipping his tongue past her lips and dominating her mouth.

Y/n fought back with her own tongue till his hand wrapped around her throat. Gasping as he pulled away and looked at her. “I wonder what this city would think about their favorite hero falling for a villain's charms.”

He let go of her and pulled her out of the alley. Dragging her towards her apartment. The two made it up her stairs as quickly as they could while Y/n grabbed her keys out of her bag. Hyunjin pressed himself right up behind her, leaning in to kiss her neck till the lock clicked and the door opened. Walking inside with her and locking the door behind him.

Turning her around and walking her back into her living room, lips reattaching to hers. Backing up to the back of her couch. Y/n grabbed at the back of his neck, pulling lightly at his hair while he sat her on the back of the couch.

“Missed these lips so damn much,” Hyunjin mumbled against her lips as he shrugged off his jacket, “been thinking about them every night.”

“Gonna talk all night or you gonna make do on your promise,” Y/n asked

Hyunjin smirked and picked her up by her thighs. Wrapping her legs around him, “Don't be taking an attitude now darling.” He warned as he walked towards her bedroom

“Thought you liked it when I had one,” Y/n teased

Hyunjin walked through her door and pinned her down onto her bed, attacking her neck. Kissing the top of her breasts that peaked out from her shirt before lifting the fabric over her head. Just to be greeted with the lingerie he had bought her.

Y/n knew his ego was growing seeing the red and black lace. She could see it in his eyes and by the way he practically ripped the remainder of her clothes off her body— lingerie included— before discarding his. Pinning her wrists to her pillows as he started marking up her skin

Y/n tried slipping her hands out of his but Hyunjin was quick to catch on and moved to hold her hands above her head in one hand while looking down at her. “Can’t behave unless you're tied up, huh?”

Hyunjin leaned over to her nightstand and opened the bottom drawer. Finding that his toy selection hadn't moved. Pulling out a pair of handcuffs, and locking her to the bed frame. Y/n tugged on the cuffs, both of them knew how to get out of them. That’s why Hyunjin was quick to drag his fingers through her folds and wrap his plump lips around her nipple. His rough tongue flicked the bud while his thumb slowly rolled across her clit. Slowly slipping two fingers inside her.

Y/n arched slightly into him, biting her bottom lip to stop her moans. Hyunjin thrusted his fingers in and out of her, slowly picking up his pace. Switching between her breasts sucking, licking, biting, and blowing on her nipples. Making her shiver from the cold feeling.

Slowly his lips trailed down her body after getting bored with her tits. Laying on his stomach and wrapping his pretty lips around her clit. Sucking on the little bud and slipped a third finger in. Curling up into her walls.

Y/n slowly rocked against him as the pads of his fingers just were barely rubbing against the one spongy spot inside of her. “Fuck,” Y/n whined

Hyunjin pressed on, finding the spot and abusing it along with her clit. Listening to her moans pick up. Feeling her legs shake next to him as her rocking became more erratic till she stilled. Warmth covered his fingers.

He pulled his fingers out and pushed his tongue inside her. Thrusting the muscle in and out of her as she rode out her high. However, he didn't stop once she came down. Licking her clean from the inside till he was satisfied.

Sitting up on his knees as he pushed her legs open, hooking his hands under her knees. “Don't got much to say now?” he teased as he wrapped one hand around his leaky cock. Pumping himself a few times before lining the tip up at her entrance.

“Just waiting for you to give me a good fuck,” Y/n smiled.

Hyunjin scoffed before sinking into her in one go. Watching her mouth fall open. He leaned down and he grabbed her neck as her mouth closed again. “You’re so much nicer to me when my cock’s inside you,” he chuckled as he pulled back and thrusted into her again.

Sitting back up and keeping his hold on her neck, using it to push her to meet his thrust. Feeling her vocal cords move under his hand from any whines and moans she was making.

“Seems like you missed having me inside your pretty little pussy,” Hyunjin groaned

“Didn't miss you at all,” Y/n shot back at him

“Really?” Hyunjin pulled his hand from her neck and then pulled out of her. Listening as she whined and her hips bucked towards him. Her hole clenching around nothing, “Seems like you did.”

Hyunjin brought his hand down on her wet cunt. Enjoying the little scream she let out. He peaked over at the open toy drawer to see what else he could use. Pulling out a magic wand and licking his lips.

He didn't think twice about turning the toy to the second-lowest setting and pressing it against her clit.

“Oh fuck,” Y/n whined, throwing her head back into the pillow

“You're going to start begging if you wanna cum,” Hyunjin told her

He kept one hand pressing the toy to her clit while he wrapped the other around himself. Getting off to the way her body shook from the toy. Waiting to hear her beg for him to fuck her again.

“‘M gonna cum,” Y/n moaned

Hyunjin pulled the toy away from her clit. Laughing at her whines and pleas.

“Please Jinnie, wanna cum so bad,” Y/n whined, “Promised you’d give me em.”

“That’s before you were a brat,” Hyunjin huffed

“‘M sorry! I missed you, missed having you inside me! Need you to cum,” Y/n rambled, tears escaping her eyed

“Yeah?” He asked, feeling his high quickly approaching, and pointed his tip at her wet folds, more aiming for her clenching hole

“Yes! Thought of you every time I was with someone else!”

Y/n gasped as Hyunjin filled her with his cock again. Immediately bullying his cock against her walls. Pressing the toy back against her clit, feeling her clench around him.

“Shit,” Hyunjin groaned.

Within a few more thrusts, he buried himself inside her. His warm cum filled her up. The vibrator slipped from her clit for a moment before he fixed the issue and turned up the speed.

Listening to her whines as he came down from his high just to finally trigger hers. Watching her hips buck against him. Hyunjin managed to pull out of her and pull the toy away from her to take in the full show. Smiling as she came down, their mixture dripped out of her.

He turned off the toy and tossed it beside them on the bed. Finding the keys for the cuffs and unlinking them from the headboard. Turning the hero onto her stomach and lifting her hips up and sinking back into her.

“Jin,” Y/n whined

“You’re okay darling. Gonna take care of you all night,” Hyunjin smirked and nipped at her ear.

Hands grabbing her wrists and pinning her down to the pillows. “Gotta remind you that you’re mine.”

☾ ━━━━━━ M.LIST TIP JAR

☾ ━━━ please support writers by reblogging and/or leaving feedback

#☾━━━━ [𝐊𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒]#stray kids #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids x reader smut #skz smut #skz x reader smut #skz #stray kids smut #hyunjin x reader smut #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader smut #hwang hyunjin smut

344 notes · View notes

winniethewife · 30 days ago

Text

For the lost and mislead

(Percival de Rolo X F!reader)

Prompt: Gun play

Words:1513

Warnings: Bondage, hate fucking, No Mercy Percy, Dub-con, On the wall, Bleeding, edging, Unprotected sex,

A/N: For my Event Nine weeks in hell, and Kinktober, Thank you @midgardian-witch for beta reading

When she came to she felt her hands bound behind her with rope, a strip of fabric covered her eyes. Where was she? What was going on? She tried to feel something around her but found nothing but a cold damp floor. Just then there was the sound of a heavy door opening and closing, the hair on the back of her neck standing up as an intimidating presence entered the room.

“Who are you? What do you want from me?” She asked,her voice sounded far away from her as it echoes around the room. She heard the sound of deliberate footsteps approaching her.

“Who I am doesn’t matter, what I want is information.” The man’s voice was cold and filled with malice. Her mind started to race, what kind of information could she have? She was only a guard for a noble family, what could she possibly know that this mysterious man wants? He took another step towards her and she felt a cold metallic weapon pressed to her forehead, although she didn’t know what it was, she could sense that she was mere moments from death if she said the wrong thing. “Tell me where the Briarwoods are.” The man whispered, the threat on her life obvious with every syllable. She stiffened, ah she did actually know something that the mysterious man wanted.

“I don’t know who they are.” She lied through her teeth. She felt the sting of a gloved hand across her face.

“Liar, I know you work for them, Now tell me what I want to know.” She heard in his voice how desperate he was to find out this information. Who in all of Exandria would want to know this so badly? She couldn’t fathom which of the Briarwoods’ enemies would take the time to kidnap one of their guards and subject them to an interrogation of this kind.

“I…I don’t know where they are.” This at least was relatively honest, she knew they had left on a journey some days ago but she couldn’t possibly know where along the road to their destination they were at this time. The man scoffed and the feeling of the cold metal pressed against her skull vanished. He knelt down in front of her, she could feel the warmth of his body as he loomed over her. She felt his hands on her face, then the blindfold came off. In the low light of the basement she could just barely see him. Bright white hair, striking blue eyes, he looked familiar… She couldn’t quite place why. He looked at her, scanning her eyes like he was trying to analyze the information that lay there.

“But you know something. Something I want to know.” He said darkly, his eyes narrowed as he took her chin in his hand and tilted her face up to look at him, she felt his breath on her face as he kept pulling her closer. His eyes darkened, and an odd look crossed his face, something between disgust and desire. She felt something she didn’t expect to feel in this moment, a need to feel this man against her, someone she should despise or fear but in that second, she wanted him, no, needed him.

“Who are you?” She asked suddenly, she wanted to know more than that but for now a name would suffice. The man blinked twice like he was surprised she asked.

“My name is Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo The Third.” He said with a rehearsed tone, the air of nobility and pride that should come with such a name long gone. As someone who grew up in Whitestone she immediately understood who was in front of her. He watched the recognition in her eyes as her brows raised in subtle surprise. She didn’t respond, she didn’t have to, he already knew every thought that could possibly cross her mind with this information. He decided to move on, he held the pepperbox up to where she could see it clearly. “You see this? You see these names on my gun? Each name is someone who wronged me, someone who did something unforgivable, you don’t want to be on this list, you want to walk out of here alive with nothing to worry about.” With one swift movement the gun was pressed back to her temple. “If you don’t want to be another name on my barrel, I suggest you tell me what I want to know.”

“I don’t have the information you want.” She reiterated, albeit much more nervously. He growls and a flash of shadow blinded her for a moment, in the darkness her mouth was wrenched open and there was cold metal shoved between her teeth. As Percy looked down on her and although he mostly felt the rage from the apparent deception, he couldn't help the rise of arousal that filled his chest as he looked down at the sight of her lips around his gun. She looked up at him, her heart thudding in her ears, she was sure she was seconds from death, a single tear rolled down her cheek as she closed her eyes, silently praying for it to end swiftly and painlessly.

“Fuck.” He hissed, she opened her eyes again and watched as he held his hardening bulge over his pants looking at her with his eyes clouded with lust. He pressed the gun further into her mouth, rubbing himself as he did so. “Maybe, I can persuade you to tell me, in other ways.” He growled low, he reached down and grabbed her by the collar of her shirt, lifted her up to her feet and pushed her against the stone wall, removed the gun from her mouth and replaced it with his lips, kissing her hard like he wanted to devour her whole. His teeth grazed against her bottom lip, breaking it open as the metallic taste of blood filled their impassioned kiss. She couldn’t even pretend to resist, she kissed him back with the same fervor as he put into the moment, clenching her fists in the binding behind her back wishing she could just put her hands on him.

He managed to slide his gun back into its holster before using his newly freed hand to pull down her trousers tearing at the fabric of her undergarments to clear the way. He hoisted her up by her thighs before finally pulling open his own pants and unveiling his hardened cock that he then slid through her wet folds and into her entrance with not a care if she was ready or not. The stretch of his cock stung, the pain was so overwhelmingly good her mind went blank, the only thing that she could focus on was him, he was all over her, his harsh touch, his taste in her mouth, his scent filling her senses as he relentlessly used her cunt like it was crafted specifically for him.

“Is this what it takes for you to tell me what I want to know? You just needed to get fucked like a cheap whore in a tavern basement? That’s what you needed to betray your master?” Percy growled in her ear as he snapped his hips into her again and again, his gloved hands held her thighs with a bruising force. She let out a high pitched whine and her eyes rolled back in her head as she felt the steady approach of her climax, and she could tell by the inconsistent rhythm of his thrusts that he was also close to his own release. Just as she noticed this he started to slow his pace, purposefully teasing her at the edge, anything to get her to talk even at his own torment.

“Mgh…Fuck, fine I’ll tell you what I know, just…don’t stop please.” She pleaded. a whisper of a smile crossed his face as he picked up the pace, burying his face in the crook of her neck, sucking gently on the soft skin there as he continued to push himself deep into her again and again. She finally felt the wave of pleasure crashing over her, her cunt clenching down around him as he groaned against her skin, his own release coating the inside of her. His hips started to still as he kept her pressed to the wall. Although her mind was scrambled she managed to say the name of the city that the Briarwoods had been en-route to as he helped her back down to the ground. He gently undid her bindings and helped her put her clothes back on, his entire demeanor changed from moments ago.

“Percival de Rolo…” she muttered his name as she leaned back against the wall. She was absolutely spent, but she couldn’t help but be curious. “What do you plan to do now?”

“Now? I hope to catch up to the Briarwoods and finally take justice for what they did to my family....” He said calmly, he looked at her again, his eyes softened. “And please…Call me Percy.”

Masterlist

Taglist: : @silvernight-m @queerponcho @boredzillenial

#the legend of vox machina #the legend of vox machina fanfic #tlovm #percy de rolo #percy de rolo x reader #smut #percival de rolo #Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III #vox machina #critical role #x reader #Percy de rolo smut #tlovm smut #kinktober #Spotify

93 notes · View notes

l1ghtfromthecloset · 11 months ago

Text

We now worship the queen 👑

Misleading Glow! (Guiding Light's mom in my AU)

I want to draw something for Judgemental Light but I hate his character so much even though he's my OC. Poor Curious has trauma from that mf.

#doors #doors roblox #roblox doors #fanart #misleading glow #guiding light

17 notes · View notes

helplesslypurple77 · 23 days ago

Text

Day 11-Missionary-Kurapika/Reader

Notes: ok so this one is also gonna be a bit shorter because I decided to add some honeycomb smocking to my Kurapika cosplay and i WAY overestimated how long that would take lol.

Anyway, enjoy!

.....

Kurapika follows his new client down the hallway of a large house, feet loud on the hardwood floor. Two sets of footsteps echo in the hallway, bouncing off the high ceilings and the paintings lining the walls. The house is gigantic, it had taken his new Boss ten minutes of relative silence to lead Kurapika through the maze of courtyards and hallways and dining rooms. Mostly empty rooms, occupied only with maids and butlers of various ranks. They eye Kurapika with curiosity as they pass by. There are no bodyguards on the premises.

Interesting, considering that was Kurapika’s new job. The Boss must be very sure of his own abilities. Mafia leaders frequently are. Still, this man seems to be different. More quietly threatening than the blustering threats and red faces of the men he was used to.

“You're aware of your duties?” The Boss says, tossing the words carelessly over his shoulder as he turns the corner into yet another hallway. The are white with pink and black stripes running up and down a startling in comparison to the beige and white ones Kurapika had just walked through.

“I will be your bodyguard, correct?” Kurapika responds, blinking his eyes to adjust to the violently pink and black walls. What a color change.

“Almost.” The man in front of him says, arms folded across his chest.

“I'm sorry?” Kurapika questions. The job posting definitely said that was what the opening was for. The lady at the job office had even commented on it, calling it a rare posting. “I was sure tha—”

“I intentionally misled you, and I apologize.” The Boss laughs, as a maid dressed in a baby pink maid uniform walks by, smiling brightly at the two of them. Kurapika blinks. All the other servants had been dressed in simple black pants and vests, regardless of gender. Two more maids walk by, one dressed in black and the other in white. They match the walls.

“Mislead me?” Kurapika questions, wondering if he's being led to his death.

“For safety reasons.” The Boss says, dodging yet another maid, this one running down the hall at breakneck speed, her bubbly pink maid dress bouncing brightly. She speeds past him and Kurapika gets a quick lungful of expensive perfume and baked goods. These maids are clearly very different from the ones in the rest of the house, what is going on here.

At the end of the hallway is a single door, painted pink, with designs of little black hearts scattered haphazardly all across it. The rest of the doors in the hallway were white. They come to a stop before it, and the boss tosses a small smile over his shoulder.

“Straighten your shoulders. You don't want to make a bad first impression.” He laughs, tapping quietly at the door. “Your job depends on it.”

Kurapika adjusts his posture, mind running at light speed to figure out what the hell is going on here. He dusts off the lapels of his black suit, hiding the chains that adorn his right hand. It's better to hide them.

The door opens a crack and a stern looking woman peeks out, surveying their small group.

“Hey Rosanne, the new bodyguard is here.” The boss says. Rosanne opens the door wider, eyeing him up and down through a small pair of thick rimmed glasses. She's probably middle aged, with dark black hair pulled into a tight bun. Her dress is different from the other maids. She must be a head maid of sorts.

“Do you really think this is wise?” Rosanne says, not even bothering to speak to him. Kurapika frowns slightly, standing still a few feet behind his Boss.

Kurapikas ears perk up. Who’s she? The boss just chuckles.

“Worth it to try, Rosanne.” He says, clapping Kurapika roughly on the shoulders. “I wish you luck.”

“Thank you sir,” Kurapika says, watching as the boss departs down the hallway, dodging around busy maid after busy maid. There are no male employees in this area of the building. Kurapika doesn't think he’s seen one since the butlers in the main entrance. Maybe that's a bad sign.

“This way.” Rosanne says, opening the door wider, tapping one black heeled foot. Kurapika steps through the door, trying not to wince as she slams it behind him.

“May I ask where we are going?” Kurapika asks as they start down another long hallway, the walls still black, white and baby pink stripped.

“No.” Rosanne says, marching down the hallway. Kurapika sighs as they turn the corner into yet another hallway. The few maids that pass Kurapika eye him curiously, whispering to each other as they pass by. Kurapika feels a bit like a exotic pet, being viewed curiously from all sides by curious maids. At least these ones aren't as obviously hostile as the woman marching in front of him.

Finally, Rosanne stops before another pink and black door. She leans forward, knocking twice.

“Young miss, I'm here with the new bodyguard.” She says, leaning her head against the door.

Kurapika stands a few feet behind her. Young miss. She must be speaking of the Boss’s wife. A small silence echoes in the hallway, and then someone speaks.

“Send them in, Rosanne.” A voice says from behind the door. Rosanne pulls away, laying a hand on the door. She eyes him up and down, her blue eyes piercing into the depths of his soul. And then she opens the door.

The first thing Kurapika sees is a large bed, shrouded almost completely by thin lace curtains that fall from the ceiling. Someone is sitting on the bed, one leg over the other on the edge white and pink duvet. The walls are baby pink and white, the vanity in one corner of the room is pink, and laden with pots and sprays of various shapes and sizes. Kurapika can see himself in the large floor length mirror opposite him. He stands out in the sea of pink and white, a lone figure dressed in black.

“Oh, a girl!” The figure says, and Kurapikas are drawn back to the figure on the bed as you jump down, sock covered feet hitting the white carpeted floor without a sound. The white floaty dress you wear dances around your thighs, just touching the skin a few inches above the top of your knee. You tilt your head, hair tumbling from your white headband around your shoulders.

“How new! Take your shoes off, ok?”

Kurapika shakes himself out of his pink induced daze and nods, slipping off his black dress shoes and stepping forward onto the white carpet. It's soft beneath his feet as he moves towards you, extending his hand when he arrives before you.

“I'm the new bodyguard your father—”

“Oh, you're a boy?” You question, taking his offered hand a firm shake. Your hands are warm. “And I know why you're here.”

“Oh,” Kurapika says, a bit off his game. You smile, a pretty face glowing under the soft white light of your overhead chandelier. You can't be the boss’s wife. You can't be much older than him.

“You can sit there.” You say, letting go of his hand and gesturing at a single pink chair, sitting awkwardly in the middle of your carpet. It's the same shade of pink as the vanity in the corner.

Kurapika shakes himself out of his confused pretty girl pink induced coma, and follows your instructions, sitting upright on the white lace cushion sitting on the chair. You smile, hopping back up on the edge of your bed with a smile.

“Well then,” You say, crossing one leg over the other. “Let's get to know each other.”

✶✶✶

Kurapika settles into his job quickly. It's pretty easy, all he has to do is accompany you wherever you go, occasionally stepping in to deal with weirdos who follow you home or assassins contracted by your fathers enemies. They're never really that powerful, and he's always able to dispatch them quickly enough. The maids are sweet to him, always ready to clean blood out of his suits or occasionally help him dispose of a body or even a living person. Even Rosanne doesn't regard him with outright disgust now, only a face of apathy.

But very soon, a problem is starting to become apparent. You. It's not like you're difficult to work with. Far from it actually. You're quite normal and sweet for the daughter of a major criminal, and always ready to give him days off or presents or thanks for his hard work. Actually, you're too nice. Too sweet. Too pretty. Kurapika might be developing a bit of a crush on you.

He noticed it one night when he had finished mopping up a batch of assassins that had targeted you. You had been so pleased you yanked him around, pulling him into a tight hug. You smelled of flowery perfume and sweet sugar candies, and Kurapika could feel the press of your boobs against his chest, and you whispered in his ear a thank you and his heart was beating too fast when you pulled away. He had assumed it was a one time thing. You were a pretty girl, it was only natural that he would be a little embarrassed if you hugged him like that.

And then he started noticing details about you.

Your smile, your laugh, the low cut tops of some of your dresses.

How kind and generous you were to your employees. How all your maids loved you, loved working you and often gushed in the employee only areas about how sweet and cute you were. How welcoming you were to him as a newcomer, how you often invited him to just hang out with you and watch some show, or worried for his safety after a fight.

So maybe he had a problem. It was not right to have a crush on someone you were employed to protect. Worse yet were the beats of lust he felt when he saw too much of the skin shown by those little nightgowns you favored. Kurapika shoves down the images that rise as he thinks about those stupid nightgowns, looking around the empty hallways surreptitiously for any maids that might have stayed behind.

But thankfully he was the only person in the long hallway. Kurapika sinks against the floor with a sigh, body folding down the striped walls with exhaustion. Thank god all the maids are away for a training session. Even Rosanne is gone, visiting family for her younger sister's wedding. You offered him a day off as well, but he had refused it, a bit too worried to leave you alone. Admittedly, he was a bit of a simp, but the worry he felt for you also doubled as part of his job, or so he could justify to himself.

Kurapika had done bodyguard work before. But never solo. He was the only bodyguard employed at the whole estate. When he had asked, you had told him that the main estate maids were just as good. And that your father was very powerful. Not like you needed to tell him. He knew. Everyone did.

He had asked you softly why he was employed there, and only a single bodyguard at that. You had informed him with a giggle that your father was a worrywart. That he worried about yucky men stealing his daughter away in the middle of the night. Kurapika couldn't blame him. He would steal you away if he could.

Kurapika stands up abruptly, smacking the stray thought out of his head with a sigh. What the actual hell kind of thoughts is he giving himself permission to repeat. Hurriedly, he sets off on his patrol of the empty hallway. There's nothing better to do anyway. You had shooed him from your room, your head tilted down and your ears red. You must have something important to do.

Kurapika reaches the end of the hallway, opening the door silently and looking up and down the white corridor that marks the rest of the estate from your quarters, and then starts back down the hallway towards the forbidden lacy depths of your room.

As he nears, he notices something odd. The door to your room is cracked open, a thin sliver of white light pouring over the hardwood flooring. Kurapika stills, straining his ears into the silence of the corridor. You always close your door. You like your privacy.

All he hears at first is silence. Not a sound leaks from your room and into the corridor with the light. Kurapika moves forward on silent feet.

Dread builds in his heart. There is a window in your room. What if someone had creeped into your bedroom through the small window and made off with you in your pink lacy nightgown and white bedroom slippers. Kurapika shudders. He cant feel any nen, but a skilled nen user could easily conceal their presence, not alerting him that anything was wrong at all. He avoids any noise, moving silently on his toes, concealing his presence as he steps towards the cracked door, avoiding the light leaking out of the room.

And then he hears it. A soft little sound that fills his heart with fear. A whimper.

Kurapika moves fast, opening the door with a slam, chains already flying around him. It takes him a minute to realize what's happening. You're safe, ok and lying on your bed, the lavender light of your mood lights slanting your body with lowlight. Your head rests on your pillow, your eyes closed. Your mouth parts in another whimper, and Kurapika frowns. You dont look like you're in pain. He scans your body carefully checking for injuries.

Your still in the nightgown he left you in, and Kurapika gulps as his eyes scan past the mounds of your boobs, down your abdomen to where the hem is rucked up above your hips, so that your hands can reach—

Kurapika coughs, finally realizing what the hell is going on as his cheeks flush with mortification, blood running between his cheeks and ears, and down south.

Your eyes open, and you sit up abruptly as you spot him. Your hand leaves its spot between your legs and you avoid his eyes, flushed a pretty pink. Your hair is mussed, tousled by the tossing and turning you had been doing on your pillows. You cross one leg over the other, shifting slightly. You aren't wearing any panties. Kurapika feels himself swell to life, rubbing painfully against the slacks of his work suite. He hopes you won't notice.

“I apologize name,” Kurapika gets out, clearing his throat hastily as he continues. “I heard—I mean I thought you were—I um…”

He trails off, and the room sinks into uncomfortable silence permeated by a slight tension. He turns away, staring resolutely at your cluttered vanity, praying his arousal will go down.

You cough.

“Kurapika?” You question tentatively, voice sounding a bit flustered. Kurapika jerks his head towards you again, fearing the worst.

“Yes?” He asks, perhaps a bit too eagerly. Your eyes are looking at him. Kurapika watches in horror as they sink down, taking in the probably obvious arousal pressing against his work pants, begging to be freed. He winces.

“I'm sorry.” He says. The silence seems to last forever, but it probably only lasts for a couple seconds before you speak.

“Do you know much about it?” You say tentatively. You're biting your lips, hands winding around in your lap as you look up at him. Kurapika shoves down the arousal that rises again as his eyes are drawn to your bitten lips.

“About what?” He asks, moving a bit closer. Not to close, but not ten feet away.

“Um,” You whisper, your cheeks flushing as you wave him closer. Kurapika is treated to a view of your cleavage as you lean forward, whispering the word as if it's forbidden. “Sex.”

“Oh,” Kurapika says, voice stilted. “A bit.”

He doesn't know much, but he probably knows more than you. You're a few months younger than him, but you're much more sheltered than he ever was. But then again, Kurapika was always more focussed on his revenge to bother with girls or sex or anything of the like.

You wind a finger in your hair, cheeks flush prettily. Kurapika knows his own cheeks are flushed as well, not to mention the obvious sign of arousal that just refuses to go down.

“Can you teach me?” You ask, voice trembling slightly. Kurapika chokes.

“Teach you?” He asks, once the coughing fit finally subsides. You nod, eyes wide and curious, hands knotted in your lap.

“Yeah,” You whisper, and Kurapika watches in shock as your hand reaches out, pressing gently against the bulge in his pants. A groan gets out before he can muffle it, as the heat and pressure of your hand shoots a blinding line of pleasure up his spine and into his brain. Kurapika grips your delicate wrist, pulling your dealy hand off of his growing bulge. You look up at him, all nervous smiles and curious eyes.

“Did that not feel good,” You mutter, hand trembling a bit in his fingers. Kurapika shakes his head.

“No, it did.” He groans, resisting the temptation to put your hand right back where it belonged. ‘But we can't do this.”

You look up at him, a small line appearing between your eyebrows.

“Why?” You ask, a small hint of insecurity in your tone of voice. “Do you not want me?”

“No,” Kurapika says, perhaps a bit too quickly. How could he not want you? Wasn't it obvious, in his town, in his eyes, in his arousal. Oh god he wanted you so bad, and here you were practically offering yourself to him. But, he couldn't.

“Your dad—” He starts, trying to protest. You giggle.

“Daddy doesn't have to know.” You whisper, the hand that isn't clasped in his own coming up to smooth over the lapels of his suite. You look confident, but the trembling in your fingers and the nervous darting of your eyes betrays you, your breath is heavy when you speak again. “The maids are all gone. We're all alone. Please?”

Kurapika takes a deep breath. Breaths in the flowers of your perfume and the musky underbreath of your arousal. And he gives in.

“Fine,” He mutters, hand coming up to gently caress your flushed face. You smile, pressing your cheek into his hand. He almost melts at the adorable action. “I'm going to kiss you. Alright?”

You nod, leaning up into him. Kurapika leans down slowly, giving you time to move away if you want to. He half expects you to move, to tell him to leave. He half expects to wake up alone on his bed. Instead you close your eyes.

Your lips are soft, moisturized every night with exfoliants and pasts that Kurapika doesn't understand. But they're soft, and your body curves into his as you lean up, letting a little breath escape your mouth.

You taste like candy. How is that possible? Kurapika doesn't know, and he isn't going to pull away enough to ask. Your lips move against his, moving with the practice of someone who knows how to kiss. Kurapika moves with you, slowly and carefully winding a hand around the back of your neck. It tangles in your tousled hair, and Kurapika touches you as if your glass, as if you might break. You whimper against him, your own hands winding around his waist. Kurapika bites back a whimper. How embarrassing. He's coming undone at the seams already, just from your touch.

You fall back, your back hitting the comforter with a soft thump. Kurapika falls with you, teeth clanking against yours at the unexpected move. You pull back with a giggle.

“You're a good teacher,” You smile, hands tugging gently at his suit jacket. Kurapika takes it off, obeying your wandering fingers.

“Really?” He questions, discarding his jacket somewhere on the floor of your bedroom. You nod, smiling gently against the white of your bedspread. You look like an angel.

“Uh huh,” You murmur, hands tugging at the hem of your nightgown, pulling it higher and higher. “So sweet, so handsome.”

Kurapika flushes, dick twitching at the praise. His eyes follow your hands, pulling and tugging the teasing hem of your nightgown. He knows you aren't wearing panties. He gulps, propped up over you on his hands and knees, suit jacket discarded on the floor. His dick is painful against his pants. You seem to notice, your manicured hand coming down to trace the bulge cupped in his pants. Kurapika groans, controlling his arousal at the touch of your hand. You smile

“It looks all squished in there,” You say, your eyes curved in hazy mirth. “Doesn't it hurt?”

Your fingers gently stroke him over the fabric, and Kurapika desperately resists the urge to cum.

“Yes,” He admits, biting his lips against the moans. Your hands trace the outline, and Kurapika almost sobs in relief as you undo the zipper, giving him some relief.

“Wait,” Kurapika groans. You freeze, looking concerned and uncertain. Kurapika hurries to continue. He never wants you to feel uncertain. “Do you have any Condoms?”

You nod, scooting out from underneath him and towards the end of the bed. Kurapika gets treated to a flash of your bare ass as you hop off the bed, sauntering over to your vanity and digging through the drawer. Kurapika takes the opportunity to shed the rest of his clothes, leaving him naked besides for his boxers. You smile, holding up an unopened box of condoms victoriously.

“Rosanne gave them to me,” You explain, shrugging your shoulders. “I don't know why.”

Kurapika thinks Rosanne might know more than she's letting on. He sighs. Is he that much of an open book or is she just insane. He thinks it is probably the latter.

“You're very strong,” You say. Kurapika looks up, standing a few feet away from you. You're looking at him, eyes taking in his body. He's thin, lith, not as built as some people but not all bones. You look curious, a box of condoms still clutched in your hand. Kurapika can barely think enough to be self conscious.

You tear open the box, reaching inside to pull out a single foil wrapped package.

“Is this good?” You ask, discarding the rest of the box on your bedside table carelessly. It joins a mostly empty yerba mate can and some other nicknacks, looking wildly out of place.

“Yes, this is fine.” kurapika says, taking the foil wrapped package out of your palm. You smile, body swaying distracting as you turn towards the bed.

“You put it on,” You say, and Kurapika watches as you pull your nightgown over your head. The lace drags over your skin, pulling up to reveal your pussy, your stomach, your breasts. Kurapika bites back a groan, dick twitches in his underwear.

When he finishes putting on the condom you're already on the bed. Your legs are propped up, your head resting on your pillows, surrounded with a halo of hair. You look like a princess. You are a princess.

“Are you ready?” Kurapika asks. His hands tremble slights as he pulls your legs wide, lining himself up with your drooling pussy. He can feel sweat dripping down his back, blond hair dripping over his eyeline. You're a hazy mess beneath him, your body on full display for his viewing pleasure.

“Yes,” You nod, body a tense line on the bed.

As Kurapika slides into your body he knows he won't last long. And by the way your back arches, the way the walls of your pussy flutter against him, you won't either.

Your walls are so warm, contracting around him as you whimper, back arching off of the bed. Kurapika groans, resisting the urge to thrust deep into you, letting you adjust slowly to the unusual intrusion.

When he finally bottoms out deep inside you Kurapika has to desperately resist the urge to whimper. Your body is so warm, your face full of pleasure as you gaze up at him, pretty pink lips parted in a moan.

“Can I move?” Kurapika grits out, trying to remain controlled and deliberate. You nod, and immediately your back arches as Kurapika pulls out, and then thrusts deep inside you. He won't last.

The pace he sets is slow, steady, more focussed on hitting the right spots than speed. And it seems to work, your hands scrabbling at anything, his shoulders, his arms, the fabric of your bed.

Your hand settles on his shoulders, nails digging into his back. Kurapika pretends the pain doesn't turn him on a bit.

“Gonna cum!” You whimper, back arching against him as he thrusts deep. Kurapika groans, hand winding down to find your clit. He's gonna lose it.

“Me too.” He groans, hand winding between your bodies. He's so close. He needs to tumble off with him.

The reaction when he finds your clit is immediate. Your body tenses, your walls clenching down against him, and Kurapika falls.

“Cumming!” You moan, and Kurapika cums with you, hiding his grunts and moans in the heavenly sounds that exit your mouth. He leans forward as the pleasure courses through him, swallowing your moans greedily into his own mouth, savoring them for later.

He doesn't know what's going to become of this, if anything at all.

But for the moment, Kurapika finds comfort in you, as the two of you tumble off the cliff or arousal and into the sea of content.

....

Endnotes: I wrote this in one night through a blinding headache so i hope you enjoy it!!!

#mariannacrxss #helplesslypurple77kinktober #hunter x hunter #hxh smut #kurapika x reader #kurapika #kurapika kurta

77 notes · View notes

milliondollarwomen · 7 months ago

Text

Fateful Meetings

Thomas Webb x Reader

Word Count 2.6k

Hello! This is something I wrote up the other night cause I feel there isn't a whole lot about Callum Turner. This is just an intro and if you guys like it I will write more! Enjoy.

A knot of anxiety tightened in the pit of your stomach as the soft morning light poured through your apartment's transparent drapes and spread across the space. You had decided to meet up with your ex-boyfriend today, and while you were excited about the possibility, you were also worried.The nerves were unshakeable. And if things went wrong? What if you felt exposed and raw because old wounds reopened? You felt a mixture of excitement and fear at the prospect of confronting your history. You grabbed the bag tremblingly and made your way toward the door, each step felt more difficult than the last. You took a deep breath and ventured out onto Manhattan's busy streets, ready to take on whatever the day might bring. Even with all of your anxiety, there was a glimmer of optimism that perhaps, just possibly, this encounter would provide the closure you had been longing for.

You rounded the corner, lost in thought, only to crash into someone coming from the opposite direction. Your bag and other items fell to the ground, and you let out a startled gasp, your heart racing as you struggled to regain your balance. "I'm so sorry!" you exclaimed, crouching down to gather your fallen belongings, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. A stranger knelt beside you, offering a friendly smile as he helped collect the scattered books. "No worries, happens to the best of us," he said, his voice warm and reassuring. As you reached for a stray book, your fingers brushed against his, sending a strange jolt of electricity through you. You looked up, meeting the stranger's gaze, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. "Thomas," he introduced himself, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. "Nice to meet you, Thomas," you replied, returning the smile, though your heart still raced from the unexpected encounter.You packed up your things and headed to the coffee shop nearby, memories of the unexpected encounter with Thomas still circling around in your thoughts. The smell of freshly ground beans wafted through the door, a soothing reminder of the familiar scent that still danced in your stomach. Your ex was already there, seated at a corner table, their gaze fixated on their phone as they waited for you. As you approached, a wave of conflicting emotions washed over you—nostalgia mingled with apprehension, memories of both laughter and heartache flooding your mind. With a forced smile, you greeted them, sliding into the seat opposite theirs. The air between you crackled with unspoken words, a silent tension that hung heavy in the space between you.

"Hey, it's been a while," you greet him as you meet up, trying to keep your voice steady. "Yeah, it has. Thanks for meeting up," he responds casually. The conversation continues, the usual pleasantries exchanged, but there's an underlying tension you can't shake. Finally, unable to hold it back any longer, you ask him, "Why did you even bring me here? If all you wanted was to check in, why did you make it seem like there was something more?" His expression falters, caught off guard by your question. "I... I didn't mean to mislead you. I genuinely just wanted to make sure you were okay," he stammers, apologetic. You shake your head, unable to hide the hurt in your voice. "It's just... it's hard, you know? To see you and not feel like there's still something between us. And then to find out that there isn't... it hurts." He's at a loss for words, realizing the impact of his actions. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize... I'll leave you alone. Goodbye," he murmurs, before walking away, leaving you feeling more confused and hurt than ever. As you gather your things, a heaviness settles in your chest, and you wonder if closure will ever come, knowing you need to find the strength to move on from what could have been. As you stepped out onto the bustling city streets, the weight of the conversation with your ex still heavy on your mind, your phone buzzed in your pocket, interrupting the tumultuous thoughts swirling within you. With a sigh, you pulled it out to see your best friend's name flashing on the screen. "Hey," you answered, trying to sound more composed than you felt. "Hey, are you free tonight?" your friend's voice came through the line, laced with excitement. You hesitated, the events of the day leaving you feeling drained and emotionally spent. The last thing you wanted was to put on a brave face and pretend like everything was okay. But then again, maybe a night out with your best friend was exactly what you needed—a chance to escape the weight of your thoughts and lose yourself in the simple pleasures of the present moment."Yeah, I think I could use a distraction," you admitted reluctantly, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips."Great! I'll swing by your place in a couple of hours. Get ready for a night to remember!" your friend exclaimed. With a newfound sense of anticipation, you hung up the phone and headed back to your apartment, the promise of a night out with your best friend offering a glimmer of light in the darkness. Maybe, just maybe, tonight would be the reset button you needed—a chance to leave the worries of the past behind and embrace the joy of the present.

You found yourself standing in front of the mirror, struggling with a whirlwind of contradictory feelings as the evening approached and the possibility of spending the night out with your best friend grew closer. You were feeling uneasy about the day's events and your head was still spinning from the encounter with your ex. A nagging thought of your brief interaction with Thomas earlier in the day crept into the corners of your mind as you started getting ready, carefully applying makeup and choosing the perfect dress. His name stirred feelings you'd tried to push under the surface of the evening's distractions, resonating in your mind like a whisper on the wind. However, you soon dismissed the concept, telling yourself there was little to no chance of ever seeing him again. Considering the size of New York City, the likelihood of a coincidental meeting on the streets was minimal at most. You gave a resolute shake of your head to drive away any thoughts of Thomas and bring your attention back to the task at hand. It was a night to let go of the past and embrace the present, with your best friend by your side. As your best friend's taxi pulled up outside your apartment building, you felt a surge of excitement mingled with apprehension. Rushing out to meet her, you greeted her with a warm smile, the events of the day momentarily pushed to the back of your mind as you embraced the promise of the night ahead. "Hey, thanks for picking me up," you said, sliding into the back seat of the taxi beside her."No problem at all! Ready for a fun night out?" she replied, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Definitely," you answered, the corners of your lips turning up into a grin. "It's been a long day, but I'm ready to let loose." As the taxi merged into the flow of traffic, the two of you engaged in light-hearted small talk, discussing everything from work gossip to weekend plans. The hum of the city buzzed around you, a comforting backdrop to the easy camaraderie you shared with your friend. Before you knew it, the taxi pulled up outside a cozy-looking jazz bar, its neon sign casting a warm glow against the evening sky. The sound of live music spilled out onto the sidewalk, beckoning you inside with promises of soulful melodies and lively atmosphere. "Here we are!" your friend exclaimed, excitement evident in her voice as she paid the fare and stepped out onto the sidewalk.You followed suit, a sense of anticipation building in the pit of your stomach as you made your way towards the entrance of the bar.

As you and your best friend settled onto the barstools, the soft glow of the jazz bar enveloping you, you couldn't help but feel grateful for her comforting presence. Ordering a round of cocktails, you took a moment to savor the lively atmosphere and the anticipation of the night ahead."So, spill the tea," your best friend exclaimed, leaning in with a mischievous grin. "How did the conversation with your ex go?" You took a deep breath, knowing that your best friend was never one to mince words. "It was... okay, I guess," you replied, swirling the ice in your glass. "He just wanted to check in and make sure there were no hard feelings." Your friend's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "Seriously? That's it?" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with incredulity. "After everything he put you through, that's all he has to say?" You shrugged, feeling a mixture of frustration and resignation. "Yeah, pretty much. But I guess it's for the best," you replied, trying to keep your tone light. Your best friend shook her head, her expression one of fierce determination. "You deserve so much better than that," she declared, her voice ringing with conviction. "You deserve someone who sees your worth and treats you like the queen you are." You couldn't help but smile at her words, feeling a warmth spread through you at the unwavering support of your best friend. Raising your glasses in a silent toast, you clinked them together with a sense of solidarity. "To better days and finding someone who truly deserves you," your friend proclaimed, her eyes sparkling with determination. "To better days," you echoed. As you clinked glasses with your best friend, the vibrant energy of the jazz bar pulsed around you, filling the air with a sense of anticipation and excitement. With a shared grin, your friend grabbed your hand and led you towards the small area where people were swaying to the rhythm of the live band. But as you followed her, your gaze inadvertently drifted towards the entrance, and there, amidst the dimly lit crowd, you caught a glimpse of a familiar figure. It was him—Thomas, the man you had bumped into earlier on the street. And to your surprise, he was looking right back at you. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as your eyes met, the connection crackling with an unspoken electricity that sent a shiver down your spine. His gaze was intense, unwavering, as if drawn to you by some unseen force. As the realization of the moment sunk in, a jolt of nervous energy coursed through you, your heart pounding in your chest. What were the odds of running into him again, especially in a city as vast as New York? But before you could gather your thoughts, your best friend tugged on your hand, pulling you towards the dance floor with an excited grin. "Come on, let's dance!" she exclaimed, oblivious to the brief exchange you had just shared. With a fleeting glance back at Thomas, you allowed yourself to be swept away by the music and the infectious energy of the crowd.

As the music swirled around you, you and your best friend danced with abandon, the infectious energy of the jazz band filling the air with an undeniable sense of joy. But as she twirled off to chat with a handsome stranger she'd just met, you found yourself drifting towards the bar, craving the solace of a quiet moment amidst the lively chaos of the club. As you leaned against the polished wood, waiting for the bartender to notice you, a gentle tap on your shoulder caused you to turn around. And there he stood—Thomas, the man whose gaze had lingered in your mind since your chance encounter earlier in the day. "Hey," he said, his voice soft yet filled with an unmistakable intensity. "Hi," you replied, your heart fluttering with a mixture of nerves and curiosity. "Crazy meeting you here." "Yeah, what are the odds?" he chuckled, his eyes meeting yours with a warmth that sent a shiver down your spine.As the two of you fell into an easy conversation, the noise of the bar faded into the background, leaving only the sound of your voices and the steady beat of your heart. It was as if the rest of the world had disappeared, leaving only the two of you in this moment, suspended in time.

"So, how was your day?" Thomas asked, his gaze soft yet filled with an underlying intensity. You hesitated for a moment, surprised by the genuine interest in his eyes. "It was... eventful, to say the least," you replied, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I ran into my ex earlier, and let's just say it was more awkward than I anticipated." Thomas nodded, a sympathetic expression crossing his features. "I know the feeling," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "My day wasn't exactly sunshine and rainbows either. I found out that my dad is cheating on my mom, and I... I confronted the other woman." Your heart went out to him, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. "I'm so sorry," you murmured, reaching out to touch his hand in a gesture of comfort. "That sounds incredibly difficult." Thomas offered you a grateful smile, his eyes meeting yours with a sense of vulnerability that took your breath away. "Thanks," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's been a rough day, but talking to you somehow makes it feel a little bit better." You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, a sense of connection blossoming between you like a fragile flower in the darkness. It was strange, this inexplicable bond that had formed between two strangers in the span of a single conversation, but somehow it felt right. Eventually Thomas had ordered you a drink and once you both finished your drinks, he glanced towards the corner of the jazz club, where a vintage photo booth stood, invitingly lit. With a charming smile, he suggested, "Hey, want to check out that photo booth?" Your eyes sparkled with excitement as you nodded eagerly, saying, "I’m always up for a good photoshoot." You both made your way over to the booth, anticipation building with each step. As you stepped inside the cozy space, the curtain closed behind you, cocooning you two in privacy. “Okay what should we do first?” He asks “There's no fun in planning it, I'll just hit start and we will figure it out” you say Laughing, you two tried out different poses, capturing candid moments of joy and connection. The camera flashed, freezing your smiles and laughter in timeless snapshots. As the last photo was about to be taken, Thomas locked eyes with you, a flicker of something intense passing between us. Without breaking the gaze, he slowly lowered his gaze to your lips, a silent question lingering in the air. And in that moment, as if drawn by an irresistible force, he leaned in and gently pressed his lips to yours. Time seemed to stand still as you guys shared a tender, electric kiss in the dimly lit confines of the photo booth, the world outside fading away into insignificance.

#callum turner x reader #callum turner #thomas webb #thomas webb x reader #callum turner fic #callum turner x you #theseus scamander #theseus scamander x reader #callum turner fanfiction

166 notes · View notes