#I need you to understand I thought I lost this.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Far Cry Cradle.

Pairing: Yandere!Lilia x Reader (TWST).

Word Count: 4.1k.

TW: Fem!Reader, Non/Con, Somnophilia, Kidnapping, Slight Breeding Kink, Infantilization/Dehumanization, and Implied Pregnancy. Slight Spoilers for Book Seven.

Humans were skittish creatures.

Lilia knew that better than most, but even if he hadn’t, it would’ve been plain to see. Their soldiers required battle cries and marching songs to keep their nerve on the field, their royalty barricaded themselves behind gates of iron and castles of brick, and even the lowliest among them fell back on rumor and superstition to vent their anxiety, telling each other tales of heroes and villains and treachery and valiance as to best root a bit of bravery in one another where they’d failed to plant it in themselves. It was an admirable effort – albeit, a misplaced one. There were things in the world worth being afraid of. Trying to forget that was as foolish as succumbing to it.

You were a skittish creature, certainly. Your condition was no worse than that of the state he found you in, and yet, your trembling had only grown more violent, your muffled noises quickly becoming too pitiful to ignore. It’d been a struggle just to get you back to his cottage, and you’d scrambled into the smallest, darkest possible corner as soon as he’d let you go. It was a miracle you didn’t make a break for the door. At least he knew that, whatever you thought he was going to do to you, it couldn’t have been worse than whatever you’d encountered in the for—

“Please don’t eat me.”

Your voice, cracked and hoarse, brought his attention back to you. He sighed, pushing himself away from the wall and ebbing closer until he stood in front of you. Despite your brazenness, you shied away, sinking that much deeper into your corner. He wondered how long you’d stay there. Any more than a few hours, and he might start to worry.

“I’m going to… eat you?”

A sharp inhale, followed quickly by a shaky nod. “I—In my village, they used to say nocturnal fae considered human flesh to be a delicacy,” you managed, in time. Lilia had to bite back a laugh. “I don’t want to be eaten. If you have to kill me, I’d understand, but I don’t want to be—”

“Relax.” It was more of an order than he meant it to be. Instantly, you went rigid, pulling your knees into your chest and staring at him, doe eyed.

With your panic momentarily thrown into paralysis, he took a moment to evaluate you. You really were in bad shape. Fresh bruises and cuts lined your bare arms and legs, and your clothing had been torn, mended, then torn again. You carried no supplies, but judging from the defensive edge to your posture, the extent of your distress, you’d been fending for yourself for quite a while. Most worryingly, you were barefoot. Wandering through unfamiliar terrain, hungry and cold, was unpleasant. Wandering through unfamiliar terrain, hungry and cold and forced out of comfort so suddenly, you didn’t have time to grab even the most obvious of essentials, was significantly more unpleasant.

He cleared his throat, then fell into a crouch, lowering himself to your height. “Why are you in Briar Valley?”

Your answer came quickly, reflexively. “I was lost.”

“Alright, what were you doing when you got lost?”

This time, your response was less easily provided. “I was… getting lost?”

Perfect. You didn’t have nerve to meet his eyes, but lying to his face didn’t seem to cause you so much strife.

Surprisingly, you spoke up without prompting, uncurling slightly. “Are you going to let me go?”

Lilia grit his teeth. Letting you go would be a bad idea, not only because it was the dead of winter and travelling just about anywhere in your state was a death sentence. You were fickle, and nervous, and more than a little disoriented, but you were human, too, and he was in sore need of one of those.

“No,” and then, rolling his eyes as you let out another keening whimper, “For two reasons. Firstly, it’s winter, you’re injured, and if I let you go back out there, you’d only get yourself killed. Secondly, I need—”

As if rehearsed, an ear-piercing cry broke through the cottage’s quiet, immediately replacing any semblance of peace with a misery that outmatched yours ten-fold. Lilia, as exhausted as he’d ever been on the battlefield, let his head fall, forcing himself to take a deep breath before soldiering on. “I have a son,” he said, only just managing to speak over the child’s wailing. “You’ll be taking care of him, during your time here.”

In retrospect, he could’ve been nicer about it – less brisk, more accommodating, leaning more towards a suggestion than a command. But, it wasn’t in his nature to ask questions where he could dull out orders, and if the idea of childrearing was as aversive to you as that of admitting where you hailed from, you did a decent job of masking it. If anything, your expression seemed to soften, your eyes darting in the direction of Silver’s nursery. For the first time since he’d found you, you managed to say something half-way rational.

“…can I meet him?”

Lilia considered it. Waiting until tomorrow morning may have been wiser. You’d have a chance to gather yourself, and he could tend to Silver on his own in the meantime, ready the child to meet someone other than Malleus and himself. It was probably the more considerate thing to do, the smarter thing to do, but the wailing grew louder, and your eyes caught the dim moonlight in a way that almost made you seem eager, and with a rasped sigh, he stood to his full height, signaling for you to do the same. “For a minute or so. He ought to be asleep, by now.”

He turned away from you, and without a word, you scrambled to your feet, tripping over yourself to follow after him.

~

Humans were sentimental things.

Strangely so. Inexplicably so. Silver had warmed to him immediately, sure, but he’d been a newborn at the time, willing to love anyone who could coo his name and make lights in pretty colors dance on their fingertips. Adults had fewer excuses. Baur’s new son-in-law was rumored to have fallen in love with his now-wife the first time he laid eyes on her, and you…

You could’ve loved a dried patch of thistle, so long as it needed your help.

Lilia made a habit of watching you, generally speaking, but he made sure to hover a little closer whenever you had Silver in your arms – which you almost always did, these days. It was clear that your experience was limited, but you took to childrearing like a fish took to water; dedicating yourself to tending to Silver’s needs as you would’ve your own flesh and blood. Currently, you were sitting by the fire in an age-old rocking chair, bouncing him on one knee and balancing an open book on the other, doing your best to read out some nonsensical fairytale to an unruly audience of one. Or, two, he supposed. He was catching more of it than he’d like to.

When you got to the part about the princess being woken up from an eternal sleep by true love’s kiss, he cut in. “If those are the kind of stories you’ll be telling the boy, it might be better not to speak to him at all.”

Your fear of him seemed to fade more and more with every passing sunrise. Now, you only responded to his chiding with a chime of a laugh, a quick shake of your head. “Talking to children is important. It doesn’t matter what you say, so long as they hear your voice.” You paused, leaning just a little closer to Silver. “Plus, it means you’re going to love me way more than your dad when you’re older. By then, you’ll already know he’s no fun.”

By way of reply, Silver clapped merrily and curled a tiny first around your sleeve. You shot Lilia a triumphant smirk. “See? He’s already playing favorites.”

Lilia pursed his lips. “He never seemed to mind being along with me.”

“Only because he didn’t know any better. You were trying to nurse him on wine, and—”

“Fruit juice,” he corrected.

“Fermented fruit juice. In other words, wine.” Almost protectively, you gathered Silver in your arms, propping him against your shoulder. “It wouldn’t hurt for you to say his name more, either. You should get into the habit while he’s still too young to remember being called ‘the boy’.”

At that, Lilia turned away entirely, huffing. He knew you were right. He’d known that when he named Silver, when he decided he was fit to raise a child with a face he still saw in his darkest dreams. Still, to love a child unconditionally and to be a father were two very different things. He was currently stumbling through the latter, but accomplishing the former was proving more difficult than he would ever care to admit aloud.

With a sigh, he edged closer to you, perching himself on the arm of your chair. “May I hold him?”

You feigned reluctance, but didn’t put up a fight. Silver was passed from one pair of hands to another, and Lilia held the child in his lap. “Silver,” he muttered, bringing up a hand to pinch his cheek gently. Good-tempered as always, Silver stared at him wide-eyed, as if in anticipation. “My first son was much more durable. Then again, he did have the decency to hatch from an egg.”

“That actually explains a lot about Malleus.” You straightened abruptly, clapping your hands together. “Oh, and we’re running low on powdered milk. You should ask him to pick some up, if he plans on visiting this week.”

 It was Lilia’s turn to laugh, now – not at anything you’d said, but at his own early misconception. He’d been too embarrassed to say anything after your hasty correction, but now, the confession came more easily, more naturally. “Honestly, I thought that’d be less of a problem with you here. I suppose I was under the impression that humans can make their own.”

A beat passed, then another. When he glanced toward you, he found your head bowed, a prominent flush spread over most of your face. It was cute, in a vulnerable sort of way. Lilia took longer than he should’ve to look away. “…some humans can. Only after they’ve had, uh, a child of their own first, though.” You shrugged. “There are a lot of conditions that have to be met before it’s something you really have to worry about, I guess.

“And you haven’t met those conditions, yet?”

Your blush darkened. “No, I haven’t.”

Ah.

On second thought, you weren’t very doe-like after all. Even a deer would’ve had more talent when it came to hiding its expression.

You were quick to divert your attention, pushing yourself to your feet and smoothing over your skirt. “The sun is setting and I’m getting hungry. Could you watch Silver while I start dinner?”

“I was actually thinking I could—”

“I’d rather starve.”

~

Humans were confounding things.

Emotional, irrational, ineffective. Pleasure and comfort were put above survival in almost every circumstance, hierarchy was treated as more of suggestion than a rule, and attachments could be formed to anything your unknowable minds deemed worth pitying. The weather grew warmer, the snowstorms fewer and further between, and yet, the idea of you leaving was never revisited. He wasn’t especially eager to broach the topic either, but Lilia had a good reason to want to keep you nearby, to make sure Silver had another set of eyes to watch over him. The same couldn’t be said for you.

“Mind if I join you?”

He glanced up and, of course, found the source of his misery. The picture was perfect; the set that of his cottage painted in the colors of dusk, the focus you dressed in the simple dress and apron gifted to you by Malleus. There was a low huff, a shallow nod, and you crossed the shallow stream, setting yourself next to him where he kneeled. “Silver just fell asleep,” you explained. “I’d give it a good hour or so before he so much as stirs. That kid could sleep through a war if he wanted to.”

“I think he might’ve,” Lilia muttered. You only laughed, leaning into his side.

“So,” you started, peering into the steam, empty save for the occasional chunk of ice drifting on the current. “What are we looking at?”  

“Lost in thought, that’s all. There won’t be anything worth looking at until Spring.” He sighed. “I suppose you’ll have returned to your proper home, by then.”

To your credit, you only faltered for a fraction of a moment – catching yourself before you let so much as your sweet, simpering smile fall away. A lesser man may not have noticed it, but Lilia was not a lesser man.

“Do you want me to leave?”

No. He’d give an arm and leg to keep you here. He’d let it snow through Spring, Summer and Fall. He’d teach Silver how to cry whenever you so much as thought about a home outside of his cottage. There were few things he wouldn’t do, if it meant you never left.

“I might be old, but I’m not delusional.” He forced himself to chuckle, the loud airy and only somewhat strained. “There’s some place you belong, some place you came from, and I don’t think it’s in this valley. It’d be selfish of me to keep you any longer than you ought to stay.”

He made a point of not looking at you, his gaze focused on the lining the streambed. There was a long exhale, then a hollow thud as you fell back – collapsing to the half-frozen ground. Just barely above a whisper, you admitted, “I like it here, Lilia.”

“Surely there are things from your own world that you miss.”

“Not as many as you’d think.”

“Comforts, then. I’ve heard wonderful things about electricity.”

“I’m plenty comfortable already. More than I ever was back home.”

“There has to be someone you miss, (Y/n).”

He heard the grass rustle as you rolled onto your side. When he stole a glance in your direction, he saw that you’d left your back to him. “Yeah.” And then, after a long moment, “I guess there should be.”

In an act of either sympathy or cowardice, he gave you time, allowed you space. Long seconds passed before you pulled yourself upright, letting your hands fall into your lap with a weary sigh. “I’ll leave on the first day of Spring,” you decided. “Before you forget how to take care of Silver on your own.”

“He’s still my son, you know.”

“Sure.” And just like that, you were back to beaming. This time, Lilia couldn’t stand to tear his eyes away from you.

“But I’m always going to behis favorite.”

~

Humans were softened things.

You, more so than most. Your skin felt like milkweed and velvet where his calloused fingers grazed over it, growing softer the farther up he travelled. There was still a winter chill in the air, but the weather was warming steadily, and at some point during the night, you’d kicked your quilts and blankets to the side, leaving you sheltered by only a cloth sleeping gown with sleeves prone to slipping down your shoulders and a skirt eager to pool around your waist. Any other night, Lilia might’ve rolled his eyes, lit the hearth in your bedroom, and left you to your own devices. Another other night, but not tonight.

It was strange, the way he loved you. He’d loved Maleanor, and a part of him always would, but that’d been different. To love Maleanor had been to love a force of nature; a storm as untouchable as it was destructive. He was never going to have her, and in a certain way, he’d always known that. You were different. You weren’t Maleanor. You weren’t distant, or untouchable, or destructive. He already had you.

All he had to do was make sure you couldn’t get away.

He’d expected there to be more guilt, more resignation. Instead, there was only relief as he propped a knee on the edge of your bed, rested a hand next to your sleeping face, allowed himself to ebb and sway closer to you until he was positioned in the space between your legs, his chest nearly pressing into yours. His gaze never left your expression; panicked and contorted, not completely unlike the face you’d worn when he first brought you home. Poor thing. You were having a nightmare.

Removing your dress came first. You were a fitful sleeper, prone to waking at the slightest disturbance, but he wasn’t green to delicate work. You whimpered as he dragged a pointed talon from your collar to your navel, but didn’t stir, didn’t shift, didn’t do anything that might’ve stopped him from bringing his mouth to your collarbone and pressing a feather-soft kiss into the base of your throat, the curve of your chest, the last blue-ringed bruise you carried from the night you met. A selfish, territorial part of him hoped it would never fade, that you’d always carry a mark connecting back to him. A more optimistic, more reasonable faction reminded him that he could simply make more.

His mouth wandered in time with his thoughts. He was careful, cautious as he curled his hands around your thighs, kneading with as much force as he could risk. You were beautiful in your obedience; spreading your legs reflexively, letting out a soft, breathy noise as Lilia settled into the now-open space. The thin fabric of your panties gave away as easily as your gown had, and Lilia’s patience reached its breaking point. Weary of his fangs, he bowed his head and—

Ah.

Humans were sweet, too.

And reactive. Even unconscious, you responded to each hasty swipe and drag of his tongue with a moan, a whine, a mewl so pitiful and so heartbreaking, the idea of ever letting you travel beyond his sight suddenly seemed irresponsible, cruel, unfair to a creature so delicate, it could hardly stand imagine itself to be unwanted. He sighed, letting his hands drift to your waist as he lapped over your clit, as eager to pleasure you as he was to drink in the fruits of his labor. It wasn’t long before your sleep turned restless, your body shifting underneath him in an attempt to escape unfamiliar stimulation. When he refused to let you go so easily, you reacted on instinct; snapping your thighs shut around his head and drawing out a low, reverberating grown from your willing victim.

More. That was what you must’ve wanted – more. He buried himself that much deeper in his task, nuzzling into the inside of your thigh as his tongue spread you open, curling against the walls of your cunt, seeking out anything sensitive, anything vulnerable, anything to make your hips buck into his mouth and your thighs shake where they were still trapped in his hands. He let his teeth scrape over the tender junctions between your thighs, and when that wasn’t enough, ground the bridge of his nose into your clit. Admittedly, it was messy effort; too hasty for your first time. He was tempted to chide himself for being so overly enthusiastic, but the awareness that this was only the first time of countless was enough of a comfort to spur him on.

It wasn’t long before he felt you tense underneath him, sucking in a harsh breath as your cunt clenched around his tongue. He nursed you through your climax (your first ever climax, he chose to believe) until your little whines had turned to near-pained whimpers, until he could no longer stand to limit himself to simply rutting against cold, lifeless bedding. With one more fleeting kiss to the apex of your hip, he pushed himself onto his knees and took to aligning the leaking head of his cock with your entrance, now dripping with arousal and spit. His gaze fixed on your peaceful expression, he thrust into you, no longer patient enough to be quite so gentle.

It was in a state of unparalleled bliss that the watched your eyes snap open, immediately finding him. Your lips parted, a scream already rising in your throat, but he forced his hand over your mouth before it could surface. It wouldn’t do to wake Silver, not at a time like this.

“Easy, love, easy,” he cooed. Your only response was a wince, a twist, a ragged sob reverberating against his palm. He might’ve been offended, had he not been able to feel you growing warmer, growing tighter around his length. “I apologize if there’s any pain. Can you try and relax for me?”

Apparently not. Your hands found their way to his chest, clawing frantically thought the thin material of his tunic. You tried to move his legs, too, but he was quick to put a stop to that, leaning his weight against you and pinning you to the bed. A bit selfishly, he took the opportunity to press his chest to yours, his hips to yours, to root himself that much deeper into you. It was paradise, the way you clung to him. He could only wonder why he didn’t realize how precious you were sooner.

“Easy,” he repeated, more breathlessly. “Would you rather I restrain you?”

The clawing stopped immediately. After a moment, he felt you shake your head.

“And you don’t want to end up hurting yourself, now, do you?”

Another shake, this one more trepid than the first.

“Then listen to me.” He rested his chin on your shoulder, careful not to raise his voice. “Make all the noise you want, but don’t scream. I’m not afraid of seeking out more permanent solutions.”

That was enough to get you to stop moving entirely. He held you close for a second, then another, before pulling away. True to your word (or lack thereof), you kept quiet, catching your bottom lip in your teeth and shutting your eyes so tightly, he could almost believe you no longer cared to look at him. With an airy laugh, he rested a hand next to your head and started to move.

It was your first time. It had to be. If you’d had any experience at all, you wouldn’t have responded to every slow, sentimental thrust with such adorable squeaking, wouldn’t have clung to the sheets with such a heartbreaking desperation. With your compliance ensured, he tried to be delicate, to give you time to adjust, but you made it difficult not to seek out the reactions you seemed so ready to provide. You made it hard not to use more force than he should’ve, not to root himself deeper than he should’ve, not to grind and rut and fuck like some drooling animal, caught up in its own heat. He could tell you were trying to ignore him, but even that had to break, eventually; your hands shooting to his shoulders as he lost his pace, your nails digging into his skin as he found something more substantial, something bordering on rabid. This time, he welcomed your violence. It was the least he could do, to help ground his distraught little love.

“You’re going to stay here.” He didn’t realize he’d meant to say anything aloud until he heard his own voice, low and drawn-out, playing just above your miserable whines and pleasured moans. “You’ll never have to leave. You’ll belong here. You already belong with me.”

“I don’t—”

“You won’t have a choice,” he assured, the comfort in his voice thick and prone to clotting. “Not after tonight.”

He watched horror flash across your expression, then something else, something he couldn’t quite name. It didn’t matter. His lips were already crashing into yours, dragging you into a kiss put off for far, far too long. Light flashed behind his eyes, and some unnamable tether drawn taut inside of him finally snapped. With his hips pressed flush to yours, he stilled and came undone. You followed a moment later, milking him for all he had.

For minutes, it was all he could do to stay trapped there; your warm body pressed into his, your stifled crying the only sound filling the empty space. When he did break from his trance, it was with an airy laugh, a brush of his cheek against yours before he dipped lower, taking shelter in the crook of your neck. Whether or not you could hear him was irrelevant. You’d have plenty of time to listen, from now on.

“You’re going to be a perfect mother.”

[heartmaddie]

“Michael?” Your voice rung out characteristically soft as your eyes fell on his exhausted body, slick with dirt and grime from a particularly gruesome day. He’s extremely exhausted, you could tell from metres away while wrapped up in thick bedsheets. “‘Something wrong?”

He didn’t respond.

With parted lips and tired eyes, you watched as calloused hands roughly tugged at his shirt, revealing his toned abdomen. Your eyes were trained on the faded scars littered throughout porcelain skin as if constellations in the sky. Your throat was hitched, but no breath let out.

The shirt fell somewhere with a thud, before he stalked towards the en suite, footsteps followed each other, and you found yourself watching him sink into the herbal bath you prepared moments ago. His body trembled underneath the warm, fragranced water.

“What’re you thinking about, liebling?” Your voice is soft, it almost cuts through the overwhelming thoughts which flood his head.

He doesn’t know how you put up with him.

“Nothing,” he mumbled, watching stray grass float around the tub, slim fingers reached out for your arm. A deep, rejuvenating sigh escaped thin lips as his eyes closed. 

He felt you massage rose-hip scented shampoo into his head, and he finally let himself relax for the first time of the day. It almost sickened him how much he adored your touch, how much he yearned for it. The serenity you left in his body grounded him.

His heart was ripped out of his chest and placed delicately into your palms, arteries and all.

To him, there was only one happiness in life, to love and to be loved. But how was one supposed to know these ecstasies if not had experienced before? Michael’s body was bruised, cracks ran through skin years ago and had settled there. Regardless, the tangible evidence of his pain was mere.

As he stepped out of the bathtub, his drenched body wrapped tightly around yours, and the small giggle which fell from pink lips melted him. He loved your laugh, each sound which danced off your tongue soothed him immensely, clearing his mind until all he could conjure was you; his happiness, his heart.

His body toppled you over and squished you against the mattress. His straight nose pushed against the skin of your neck and placed tender, almost reverent kisses against the warm skin. 

“hold me tighter.”

Somehow, he liked how your touch treated him as if he were fragile, like a vase that had been ruined a multitude of times that only you had bothered to glue back together. Pieces of him were missing now, lost in time, but regardless, your flowers still rested against the rims of china.

Nimble fingers brushed against his back, and he relaxed further into your chest. Michael wanted to melt into you, he wanted his organs to intertwine with yours and become one, he felt that you were both born from the same star, after all. 

You traced each bump and ridge which adorned his skin with love, your warmth made sugary liquids fall from azure as he buried himself deeper into you. He needed this, he needs you, more than anything. He feels you in his skin, he’ll never let you go.

You gnawed at his pain and swallowed it as if sweet chocolate drizzled on freshly picked strawberries, when his heart extinguishes, you’ll be his last and forever thought.

For the last time, your arms wrapped around him tightly, bringing your lips against his ear.

“I love you, Micha.”

He nodded, eyes shutting impossibly tight as he sponged up each syllable off your saccharine cheeks.

(thank you for understanding me)

“I love you too.”

©heartmaddie all rights reserved. please do not repost my work.

[revelboo]

So the joints on the 2024 golden lagoon set are very brittle. Reached out to the company and they said the 2025 set will have improved joints. Had to perform knee surgery on starscream but he's good now (rip inferno I'm sorry I stole your joints) and the company is sending a new set of the improved ones when they receive their 2025 sets

Ahh! His little smirk.. I want to open the package now even worse... very, very carefully

Everything Is Alright Pt 102

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Soundwave’s servos tighten on you in a subtle warning. Not that you need one, having no intention of telling the warlord about that since you have no idea how he’ll respond. Tucking your face against Soundwave’s neck, hiccuping now you’re so upset, you can’t even care that you’re still on Soundwave. Megatron’s walked in on you enough times, it’s hard to care anymore. Mostly, but a mortified part of you dies a bit more every time. “Argument,” Soundwave says, hands running over you soothingly as you try to get yourself together. You’re lying, that anger in Star’s voice hooks at you, making you want to start sobbing all over again.

• Optics narrowing as you hide your face against Soundwave, Megatron hesitates before sitting on the edge of the berth, hands dangling between his thighs. Wishes it was only Soundwave, not you too, but at least you’re not looking at him with those eyes. “Why a human?” He asks and you do peek at him, face flushed and wet with tears as he watches his old friend cup the back of your head. Wanting to understand this. “The size difference?” And you make a choked little sound that he suspects is a laugh as Soundwave bumps his helm against your forehead, rubbing his cheek against yours to make you loop your arms around his neck. The intimacy of the interaction making his spark ache even though he doesn’t know why.

• “Because of who they are,” Soundwave growls. Not the most talkative mech by any means, he knows this is important. Making Megatron understand that you’re not a plaything to him is a step forward to making you safe and keeping you that way. Knows the warlord is curious about you now that the anger has burned low. And that he could make you safest by twisting that curiosity into something else. Something Starscream will hate him even more for. Retracting his mask, he brushes his mouth against your cheek. “Sweet, little mate.”

• Low voice dipping to a rumbling croon, you lay your cheek against his shoulder. Still able to keep an eye on Megatron as you wonder at Soundwave’s seeming indifference to being so small around Megatron. He’s not terrified of him like Star is. At the thought of him, that hollow, aching pain doubles and Soundwave croons more insistently at you. The deep sound humming through you and unraveling the fear and tension, seeming to whisper to you that it’s okay, to not worry.

• Transforming, silhouetted against the bright sky, he hangs there trying to get himself together. A lie. A trick. But the look that has been on your face? That pain was real. If it is? If he somehow sparked you? Primus, he’s not cut out to be a sire. Thinks of the manipulations and casual cruelty of his own carrier and that anxiety cranks tighter, because he can’t do this. Can’t be what you need him to be even though he wants it. What if he’s every bit as awful as his carrier was? If his sparkling despises him and you because of him. There are so many horrible what ifs digging into him, tearing into his processor. That he’s not good enough, not good at all. That pain in your eyes. Like you’re sure he’s abandoning you again, as lost as you’d been that night he’d tried to set you free. Reaching out a hand after him and crying out his name. Pleading to not be left. And he’d done it again, leaving you scared and reaching after him when you’d needed him most. Transforming, he races back to you. Back to home and a future he desperately wants even if it terrifies him.

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[lady-of-endless]

Seong Gi-hun (player 456) x player!reaader headcanons (season 2)

Author's Note: I woke up with notes on my other Gi-hun post and watched season 2, got hooked again, and decided to write this. I hope you'll enjoy it! Click here for a masterlist because there's more to come.

- The innocence from the first game is lost once and for all. He's unintentionally less approachable now, always stoic, always tense. After the first game, some thought he was either crazy or suspicious. Your gratitude for his help during the first game surpassed any way you pictured him before. So you decide to keep an eye on him.

- Gi-hun is too focused on the game system and guards to notice you studying him from time to time. He's both amazed and worried about how different the players are from the first time he was there. But if there's one thing that remains the same, it's the sudden greed when the prize is getting higher with each elimination.

- But he doesn't see that in you. After the first game, you understood the gravity of the situation and forgot about the money. The moment the piggy fills with money and everyone is in awe except for him, you look around and your eyes lock with his. He finally notices you then and there. Why? Because you're the only one not looking at the money anymore.

- The second time he will notice you is when you won't eat well because of all the stress and shock. Gi-Hun silently approaches you, sits next to you, and calmly explains how you must eat to have energy for the next game. Despite his stoic tone, you can see worry in his eyes.

- During one night, when he is the only one awake to watch around, you join him in silence. That's when you start opening up to him more. He wasn't expecting it at all.

- He will never judge your reasoning for entering this wicked game. Gi-hun will just listen and try to show understanding.

- Since then, you stayed close to him. He didn't mind it at all. Plus, his mind was already busy with plans and possibilities to save as many as he could.

- You'd think that he might've developed trust issues but his heart didn't allow that. Not when he got attached so fast. You were always there to support him or help him find the right words to convince other players to stop the game from continuing. Slowly, you become something like his confidant even if he forced himself to be cautious around other players.

- When he opens up to you, he opens up about his experience first. He's done it before, telling people what he went through with this damned game but no one asked him how he feels after everything, except for you. He's stunned. It feels like you somehow made your way inside and he's powerless, he can't do anything about it,

- His hands twitch and his body tenses every time you risk getting hurt. He's not even aware of how ready he is to rush to you and help if you need it. But the others are aware. Some will notice how you two simply gravitate closer to each other. Watch out for a jealous-looking Hwang In-ho (player 001).

- Seon-Nyeo (player 044) talked to you two about how you are doomed because of a curse and other scary spiritual details, the way she does with everyone. Gi-hun was unfazed but his eyes softened when he saw you a little bit worried and disturbed. He comforted you, put a hand on your shoulder, and gave it a reassuring squeeze with a half smile (it's still hard for him to smile again, but he'll do it for you).

- He promises you that he'll get you safe out of there, every day and every night.

- Whatever you two will have, he will insist on being kept secret so you won't be in any additional danger because of him.

[strwberri-milk]

Hi! I know mc forgot all their memories from other lives and all, but how would they react if the reader got into an accident and had amnesia ? Thank you

*intense flashbacks to rick grayson* anyway i did this w the assumption that zayne is the only one unaware that this isnt the first time you lost your memories bc i think. he also lost his memories so yall are in the same boat lmaoo

He is absolutely devastated. He blames himself for your injury, feeling that he should have been there to protect you. He should have taken your injury, done something besides just happen to be there when you finally woke up in the hospital bed. He hates how tired you look, the way you glance at him as though he were nothing more than a stranger. That look haunts him, and he finds himself stuck in place as the doctor gently pulls him aside and tells him it seems you're suffering from amnesia. The doctor reassures him that it's most likely temporary but they're going to keep you in the hospital for monitoring.

The others all need a moment to process the news. He's upset, sure, but he also hates that sense of familiarity that settles in his chest at the news. It's not to say he isn't surprised, just that unfortunately, a part of him knows how to receive this piece of information.

He's going to be at your side no matter what, this dull ache in his chest only slightly abated at the doctor's promise that this is temporary. Sylus and Xavier take the news better than Rafayel, keeping conversation light and easy with you. You can see the pain in their eyes at not remembering him but he won't say anything to you about it. You wish that you could remember him now but you also know that rushing things won't do any good. Instead, you decide to ask him questions about your life together, feeling a sense of relief wash over you as you realise even if your brain doesn't remember him, your body seems to feel comfort in his presence.

Zayne wishes for a moment he didn't spend so much time focusing on cardiology. Maybe, if he swapped to neuroscience he would have an answer right now, or if he focused more on becoming a general physician he'd know more. He hates the not knowing, understanding on a technical level what the doctor is telling him but none of it fully processes, not until he's at home without you because they thought it might stress you out too much to come home to a strange place.

He comes to visit you every day, not insisting on your time but comforting enough that you don't really mind. You're also glad to know he's also a doctor, feeling safe that if something were to happen to you he'd be able to help until your primary doctor appears. You find it hard to believe that this incredibly handsome and talented surgeon is your lover but he shows you some photos that prove the fact.

He's very patient, only able to be so because the doctors have agreed to show him the scans of your brain to calm his nerves. He's sure that even if your symptoms continue to persist he'd be able to keep you in his life, whether that be as his lover or just as a friend. Simply being able to be with you is all he ever wants, whatever that means.

Rafayel is pissed beyond belief. You don't recognise the man standing in front of you but you can tell by the quirk of his brow and the way his fingers tap against his thigh that he is not happy. Despite his turmoil, it only takes him about a second before he sighs tiredly, kneeling at the side of your bed and asking if you seriously don't remember him. The slight shake of your head is enough for him to understand the gravity of your injury, making his heart break.

This time he feels like he has more control over it, thankfully. He decides that despite your amnesia he'll do his best to make a stronger impression on you this time. He's not overbearing but he is consistent, keeping you company in a friendly manner. He doesn't want to scare you off by being too attention hungry but he also misses your touch, trying his best to keep his hands to himself as he tells you about what the two of you did last week.

[eupheme]

DEADPOOL & WOLVERINE FIC RECS (PART II)

a rec collection of my fave logan and/or wade x reader fics - please give these writers some love! ❤️💛

(these recs are in addition to this post - I intended to combine them but I hit my link limit on the first!)

LOGAN HOWLETT X READER

— a mouse christmas by @guiltyasdave

Before Christmas, you and Logan have an unexpected house guest.

— cardinal by @danidrabbles

At the edge of the world, someone from another keeps you from stepping off.

— come on into my bed with me (i know you want to) by @sceletaflores

you can't sleep, logan left his door open…

— dirty little secret by @silverskyeline

logan finds that you've left him a little gift behind, and he just can't help himself. 

— don't mind me by @/moonlight-prose

you refused to admit that you were smitten with the man who melted your otherwise intelligent mind. you were however…horrible with subtlety. luckily the same could be said for him.

— guard dog by @/elflutters

Nobody would believe how his masculine bravado fell as he let you take control. They didn’t notice how you could dismiss him with a nod of your head, how he would immediately back down from a fight if you told him to drop it. Like a dog with a bone. That’s the thing about Logan. He is protective like a guard dog is  protective. And he is submissive like a guard dog is submissive. Oh, you so enjoy training him.

— i could play the doctor (i could cure your disease) by @sceletaflores

it’s been another six months, and logan needs your help…

— in every lifetime by @pedroscurls

you lost logan in this universe. logan lost you in his. what happens when you both see each other again, but realize that you're both from different worlds?

— kinktober 2024 by @avocado-writing

— kinktober 2024 by @robo-writing

Logan’s got hundreds of years of experience under his belt, and somehow you manage to match him blow for blow.

— manhandle by @embbarnes

Feral-ish Logan is obsessed with you.

— nameless as a river undiscovered underground by @/moonlight-prose

his leather jacket remained a tie between your love and his. the weight of it, the smell of your intertwined scents, all revolved around a relationship he never thought would happen.

— of flesh and bone by @cavillscurls

logan just can’t bring himself to kill a pretty thing like you—even when he’s starving.

— slippin' and slidin' all over you! by @/sceletaflores

logan forgot to fix the ac…

— the animal in the cage by @/silverskyeline

you return each week to watch the stranger in the cage, desire swirling in your mind. there's no way he'd ever look at you too. . . right?

— trapped lies by @wlwloverwrites

Logan has a very hard time hearing the words “I love you.”

OLD MAN LOGAN X READER

— come undone by @nymphoniah

— dust to dust by @/moonlight-prose

when the days are long and he's grown weary of everything, he knows he can find his peace in your body. that is until he brings a whole new understanding to the belt buckle that sits proudly on his waist.

— makeup sex with old man logan by @rqnarok

— my girl by @moonlitbirdie

Logan comes home after a scuffle and you clean him up. He finds a way to thank you.

— my man by @/silverskyeline

he's irresistible in that work suit of his, so much so that you decide to treat him with it on.

— runaway bride by @pedroscurls

on the day of your wedding, you find out that your maid of honor and husband-to-be has been hooking up behind your back... and you run directly into the arms of a stranger to help you cope with the sudden betrayal.

— smoke and ash by @/moonlight-prose

cigar smoke trailed after him with every step, his mouth always desperate for something to wet, something to bite down on. and you with the match between your teeth indulged him every which way.

— twin flames by @/elflutter

Logan wasn’t shy about his thing for pain. He should have known you would like it too. When pain is your only companion, when it can’t even give you the mercy of death, you learn to master it. To love it.

— when things turn green again by @lubdubology

Hoping to mend the pain of your broken heart and bury the memory of your failed marriage, you turn towards the woods. A cabin was left in your name and it’s the exact distraction you were looking for. What you didn’t anticipate is meeting a quiet, ruggedly handsome man along the way who helps you heal.

LOGAN HOWLETT X WADE WILSON

— number one fan by @/silverskyeline

rockstar logan meets popstar wade backstage. what could go wrong?

LOGAN HOWLETT X READER X WADE WILSON

— angel of the morning by @/moonlight-prose

wade has a proposition to offer: he will sit quietly (a complete lie) as logan shows him how fucking you properly is done. only it's not up to logan...it's up to you. his sweet angel of the morning.

— she's your daddy by @/elflutters

— woo, my baby's got me all mixed up! by @/sceletaflores

wade gets to whiskin’ (and logan’s there too)…

if you haven’t read these, you need to! and please support these amazing fics & writers by reading, reblogging & commenting! 💕

[httpuckdrop]

ashes – day 1

his eyes were stuck on you from the second you entered the club.

it wasn't a completely uncommon thing for you to have men staring at you in public places, especially not when you were out with your hot girlfriends, all wearing tiny dresses with hair fixed to perfection. nonetheless, you were more used to the men only ever entertaining the most gorgeous members of your friend group, and men losing interest after an hour of you not giving a shit about their longing gazes.

this specific one, however, didn't seem to understand the meaning behind your actions. nearing three hours after you first stepped into the room, you still caught him eyeing you up whenever you accidentally looked his way. could he not take a hint?

it wasn't like he wasn't hot enough for you – quite the opposite, to be honest. with his defined jaw speckled with just a faint hint of stubble, a smile that made something tighten in your stomach without him even trying, and those baby blue eyes (so bright they could blind you across the room), he could probably bag any girl in the world. he probably has, too, judging by the way he and his friend seem to think that they own not just the club but the rest of the world as well.

you're familiar with the type; likely some type of spoiled sports guys, celebrating a good game or season or whatever. caps on their heads, beer glasses in their hands, top buttons of their shirts undone. you truly couldn't care less.

the guy left your brain for a few moments when it was suddenly your turn to get your group a new round of drinks. you waited by the bar for a minute or two, and when the bartender was done mixing your round, he calculated the price for you before running off to get the card machine.

you really shouldn't have been surprised by the figure appearing by your side. you definitely should have figured out that he would see this as his chance.

"let me pay for the round." you hadn't heard his voice before, but you didn't need to – or want to, for that matter – look at him to know who it was. a mere shake of your head should've been enough, you thought. apparently not. "you're a group of like, what, six people? can't be too expensive, i'll handle it."

"i can handle it, too," you countered.

"i'm sure you can," he started with a chuckle. "but you shouldn't have to."

taking a deep breath, you finally turned to him, feeling the frustration building up in the pit of your stomach when your eyes met his because who allowed him to be this breathtaking up close? "i'm not looking for some sugar daddy, so you can leave."

his jaw dropped slightly at this, eyes widening and cheeks growing pink – or were they always that color? was it due to the alcohol or just the proximity to you? – but then he shook his head slightly to recover. "that's not what i meant," he said, and you almost believed the genuine glimmer in his gaze. "i just wanted to do something good, i don't know. i'm sorry if that came out wrong."

you couldn't help but nod at this, the corners of your lips curling up at the sight of his hand scratching the back of his neck. "don't worry about it," you assured him, wanting- needing to look away, but not finding yourself able to. he looked young, probably around your age instead of the typical nasty old men who liked to pick up pretty girls and brag about their wallets. his eyes were kind, gentle, the different shades of blue swirling around like a rough sea; easy to get lost in. the brown curls that poked out at the back of his cap were unruly yet soft, and in a weak moment, you found yourself wondering how it would feel to pull your fingers through them.

the bartender interrupted your moment – you weren't sure if only seconds had passed or if it had been minutes, hours – and a breath of relief escaped from you at the beep from the card machine after you tapped your phone against it. at the same time, you really didn't want to go back to your friends. you could spend your whole lifetime just staring at the man in front of you without being bored for even a second. you hadn't yet realized the spell you were under, or just how willing you'd be to agree to anything for him.

after making sure that the drinks were safely transported to your table, the man managed to lure you with him to his own table instead. most of his friends were gone by now, searching for single girls on the dance floor, and the three that were still sat there were too invested in a heated discussion about football to care even the slightest about you two.

he introduced himself as jack, 23 years old but turning 24 in the spring, the middle of three brothers. when you questioned him about sports, wanting to confirm your premature suspicions, he laughed and confirmed that he indeed "works with hockey", but never went any further than that. instead, he asked for your name, told you that it was beautiful and asked where you got it from. he asked to hear about your studies, seemingly authentically curious about your boring homework and annoying lecturers. he asked about your family, your childhood, your dreams.

no matter what story you told, he listened with great intent, that boyish grin permanent on his lips and a laugh never far away. jack looked at you like he was already in love with you; a look you're sure he has practiced for ages.

but at this point, you honestly didn't care.

after this, everything went by in a blur. one second, you were still just sitting on that couch in the club, chatting about anything and everything. the next, you were making out in the back of an uber, his calloused palms searching every inch of skin they could reach under your shirt. the next, your back met the covers of the bed in his apartment, dazed eyes watching as this masterpiece of a man climbed on top of you and leaned down to seal his lips against yours yet again.

his fingers left imaginary traces along your skin, his lips then following the path they'd drawn. you'd been in this position before, sure, but this sensation was new – something about him made it so different from anything you'd felt before. his touch drew out shallow breaths and sweet noises from you as he discovered your body, helping him understand how to please you the way you wanted.

the time spent with jack went on for hours, yet it was over in mere seconds. when he held you against his chest, you wanted nothing more than to stay there forever, to rest your head against him until the world collapsed under your feet, to feel his skin against yours until the end of time.

but you knew that couldn't happen.

so as soon as his low snores filled the air, when his breath became steady and you were sure he was asleep, you swiftly fled from his grasp.

getting dressed in a tight dress and your previously discarded underwear after a night like this was always awkward, and leaving a gorgeous man alone in his big bed always sucked. but you had no other option.

after closing his front door behind you quietly, you let out a deep sigh, as if to let go of what had just happened. you couldn't afford to let it stay on your mind, you couldn't obsess over it. there was no point. if you were lucky, you would never have to see him again.

unfortunately, luck has never really been on your side.

[fear-is-truth]

ok hear me out the evans with reader who has an oral fixation

⋆𐙚 ₊ the evans… and your oral fixation.ᐟ

ft. tate langdon ‧ kit walker ‧ kyle spencer ‧ james patrick march‧ kai anderson

a/n: um. idk if u meant the normal kind or the sucking dick kind so i’m assuming it’s the former...

⟣ tags ‧ nsfw for kai | gn! reader

⟢ 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐃𝐎𝐍.

he’d think it’s kind of endearing, like when you absentmindedly chew on pens or nibble your fingers while lost in thought.

might lowkey encourage it because he loves seeing you relaxed or focused. he’d think it’s cute when you’re twirling a straw between your lips or biting the corner of a snack wrapper.

boy has a filthy mind and he would imagine the beautiful possibilities with your oral fixation.

⟢ 𝐊𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄��.

kit would be so understanding and sweet about it, no judgment at all. he’d notice your little habits early on and immediately start thinking of ways to help.

he’d carry around toothpicks, gum, or hard candy in his pocket, just for you.

whenever you’re chewing on something (like your nails or a pen), he’d gently take it from you. “don’t wanna see you hurt yourself, y’know?”

would even try to incorporate your fixation into little sweet gestures. like, he’d hand you a lollipop and say, “thought of you when i saw this at the store.”

he’d never call it weird or make you feel bad; instead, he’d see it as one of those unique little things that make you you.

if you’re playing with his fingers or nibbling on his shirt collar absentmindedly, he’d just smile and let you. “you’re somethin’ else, darlin’.”

⟢ pre death .ᐟ 𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑.

would think your oral fixation is the cutest thing ever. he wouldn’t even question it; he’d just roll with it like the golden retriever boyfriend he is.

kyle would quietly watch out for signs that you’re stressed or anxious, knowing your fixation might be a coping mechanism. he’d always be ready to distract or comfort you when needed.

if you chew on his hoodie strings, he’d chuckle softly and let you. even if it means walking around with damp hoodie ties afterward.

if he notices you fiddling with random objects to chew on, he’d gently offer alternatives. “here, try this instead,” handing you a piece of gum.

he’d probably start carrying around little things like gummy candy or mints just for you.

he’s just the kind of guy who sees your quirks as something to adore, not fix.

⟢ 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇.

james would initially raise an eyebrow at your oral fixation, finding it a bit unladylike, but the fact that it’s you doing it makes him oddly charmed. “my dear, such habits are unbecoming, yet somehow you make them… endearing.”

because he’s a world-class simp for you.

he’d absolutely try to redirect the habit into something more “sophisticated.” he’d offer you cigars, not because he expects you to actually smoke them but because it amuses him.

he’d also introduce you to those elegant, vintage cigarette holders—the long, fancy ones used by old hollywood starlets.

would keep an assortment of expensive hard candies or licorice in crystal jars around the hotel just for you.

⟢ cult leader .ᐟ 𝐊𝐀𝐈 𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍.

kai would probably shame you about your oral fixation, calling it “childish” or “immature,” “what are you, a teething infant?”

if he’s truly invested in you, he’d dive into the psychology of it, trying to figure out why you do it via pinky power. ask evasive questions.

there’s no way he’d let you chew on his hoodie strings.

instead, he’d offer something that benefits him. “you need something to suck on? here,” he’d say, sliding two of his fingers into your mouth with a knowing smirk.

would lowkey enjoy the control of indulging your fixation on his terms. he’d use that as an excuse to throat-train you. work on that gag reflex of yours.

at the end of the day, he’d see your oral fixation as something to manipulate, explore, and (occasionally) accommodate.

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[ginnysgraffiti]

from the poll many people asked for fanfics on the ginger emperors, so here i am :)

this is just a simple headcanon but i hope to find more time to write proper one shots. happy new year <33

&. EMPEROR CARACALLA x yn.

@pecxiebu

how would caracalla kiss you?

you never understood if caracalla's kisses were inexperienced, messy, or if that was simply his way of kissing you.

his way was an unbridled one: you would find his hands everywhere, unable to stay still and hold you firmly. his kisses were the one that left bruises, that made your lips turn swallow and cherry red.

they surely felt rough, always rushed as if he couldn’t decide what to do with you or simply how to taste you. it felt like he was always running out of time, as if he was lost and confused and he had to imprint your taste on his mouth one last time.

submitting to his kisses would mean suffering through his harsh bites to your bottom lip and experience the familiar and smooth taste of blood and iron on your taste buds every time.

understanding or controlling his moods was complicated enough, but his intentions in bed were not so easy as well. he had no other way to take you, and you were often led to wonder if he didn't know other ways to soften or slow down.

it was as if he wanted to reach you through physical contact, as if every missed explanation or every gap left during his psychological outbursts could only reach you when you were in his arms, on his sheets. it was something completely childish and yet captivating. he always had a feverish desire and need to make sure you were with him at that moment.

each kiss was a patch he tried to sew over his outbursts, his senseless screams or when the illness was once again more present than the previous time.

the emperor’s mind often wandered into lustful or sadistic paths, thing you were aware of, but those rare occasions when he was most vulnerable led caracalla to forget, the next morning, why your body was so red or sore.

the nights when his scratches would become caresses, when his kisses seemed like sweet molds that slid in rhythm along your entire body. his need would turn into traumatic and too-familiar-insecurity and in the blink of an eye his body was already shaking above your frame, his sobs filling the room and salty tears leaving goosebumps on your skin.

reason why the following morning you had to cling to silly excuses as to why your mouth was swollen, your lips were bloody and your neck was purple.

caracalla didn’t deserve to find out the truth, or maybe he’d never even understand it anyway. his mood swayed so much between physical obsession and mental instability that there were only few things he remembered, so you might as well make sure that only good memories remained in his mind to compete with his illness, like the rare good nights were he thought you could really, really help him find a shelter, a comfort place and companion to call home.

[luckykiwiii101]

Heyhey

First of all,

Much love to you. I know you've helped a lot of people and on behalf of everyone you've helped..a big thank you!

I found something on reddit and it made everything just click in an instant. I'll put it at the end. (for some reason I can't link it) I am sending this to you in the hope that this will really help some people who feel lost.

Sidenote: I know it's basically what you and other blogs has been preaching about, but this is rephrased differently and may help some people understand and truly apply (and stop overconsuming lol)

I CANT BELIEVE IT TOOK ME ALL THIS TIME TO FINALLY GET IT…  Tips & Techniques I’ve known about the Law of Assumption for almost four years, and now I finally get it. I always thought that when I closed my eyes to imagine something, it was my false self—let’s call her Ella—doing the imagining and experiencing the desire. But that’s not true. Ella only exists in the physical realm; she’s just another object in awareness. The one who’s really imagining is awareness itself—God, consciousness—the only thing that truly exists. Now I understand why imagination is immediate and real. It’s not Ella’s creation because she has no access to awareness. Ella’s role is confined to the 3D world. Her job is to make sense of life through logic, past experiences, and sensory input. So, when I imagine something, Ella can’t “see” it because imagination operates in the realm of awareness, not the physical. This is why thoughts like “Where is it?” or “It’s not working” arise—they’re just Ella panicking because she didn’t witness the creation happen. Ella is fixated on time and the physical world, so she doubts anything beyond her perception. But her panic doesn’t mean anything because she’s not the one imagining. She’s not capable of understanding or influencing what exists in awareness. This realization leaves no excuse not to trust my imagination. Imagination is beyond Ella’s capabilities, and its reality is not dependent on her understanding. This isn’t an invitation to hate or fight Ella—it’s about recognizing her limitations and letting her be. When I notice my mind being logical or thinking doubtful thoughts, I can let them pass because that’s just Ella doing her job. There’s no need to argue with or control her because it’s like bullying a blind person for not being able to see. She simply can’t perceive what’s happening in awareness, and that’s okay. Let her do her thing, knowing it doesn’t matter. The real work is already done in imagination, which is the realm of the infinite.

Someone answered:

Yup, Ella is herself a manifestation of consciousness and there is only consciousness. We think we are Ella, when we are consciousness, perceiving things through Ella's perspective. Good job. And that's exactly why manifestation is instant, the moment awareness becomes aware of something through your imagination, it happens. Because everything is awareness. You already are living that reality from the moment you imagined it. Ella will keep thinking. You need to not react to those thoughts or feelings of Ella, observe them, take care of Ella when she feels down but laugh a little at her naivety. Most people imagine and forget that they're not Ella but consciousness and become aware of something else by giving attention to Ella's limited perspective but guess what? Ella is a well behaved child, she will learn as soon as you discipline her. Her thoughts would slowly get on board too and so will the feelings. So let Ella be, don't react to her thoughts and emotions and become aware of something that's not what you want

People need to read this!!! Thank you so much for sharing!!

[zroronoas]

jealousy, jealousy!

a/n: in my ariana era so i did listen to boyfriend 30 times while writing this

jealous!!!! reader but also zoro who tries his hardest to hide his jealousy but he sucks at it lolz

fluff!

-

-zoro, who can be found lifting unnecessarily large dumbells when you come barging in with steam coming out of your ears. he ignores you at first, as usual, but then you start bombarding him with questions about a girl that he can't even remember talking to.

-"why was she looking at you like that?" the question has him groaning loudly before he sets down his equipment. he turns to you with an annoyed expression on his face while you just stand there with your hands on your hips, waiting for him to answer.

-he doesn't understand why you're so upset about it, you two weren't even in a relationship. he also doesn't understand why he feels the need to reassure you anyways. but on this particular day, the question has him a little more annoyed than usual.

-"why does it matter to you how women look at me? it's not like we're together." and now your entire face is red and you're angrier than you were before you came in and he's kind of regretting saying anything. "yeah" you say quietly. "you're right, you aren't my boyfriend."

-and with that, you stomp out of the room and zoro is left there with his hand on his forehead because why would he say that?

-zoro finally understands how you feel when he walks into the kitchen and sanji is being flirtier than usual. he hates how the cook touches you every time he puts a plate of food in front of you and the heart eyes that come out of the idiot's head every time you smile and thank him. despite zoro being extremely hungry from his workout, he decides he can't watch and skips out on dinner.

-the next day, when he sees another man trying to talk to you while you shopped, he really realizes how much it bothers him when other men flirt with you. the entire day, he's grumpier than usual and the entire crew notices.

-chopper shows up all teary-eyed, telling you that zoro yelled at him. so now you're making your way to zoro, ready to tell him off for making chopper cry. when you find him, he has his eyes closed and his hands behind his head as he leans on the mast. "what's your problem? chopper told me you yelled at him for no reason." you snapped. he only opens one eye to look at you, before his eyebrows furrow. "why don't you go ask that shit cook?"

-you're confused for a second, because what does sanji have to do with this? but when realization dawns on you, a teasing smile grows on your face. zoro always tried his hardest not to show you that he was jealous, but this time it was different. "you're jealous."

-he gets super defensive and he's blushing so. hard. because he thought he was hiding it really well.

-now you just really want to tease him because usually you were the one always getting jealous. "i thought you weren't my boyfriend? what does it matter if sanji is flirting with me?"

-that really annoys him because we all know how much he hates sanji. so then he starts going on a rant about how much of an idiot he is and now you've just kind of lost the plot.

-"well," you start. "this could all be avoided if you did one thing!"

-"yeah, i should kill sanji."

-you give him a little bonk on the head because you're practically asking him out and he isn't understanding. "no! you could ask me out, then you wouldn't have to worry about sanji because i'd just kick his ass myself."

-he's actually so nervous because he isn't used to anything like this. yeah he's all tough but he's also a very sweet guy, he just shows it differently!

"you're right, i guess." he's so blushy and cute! you think you might pass out before he even gets the chance to ask. "well, then. will you? it'd really give me more of a reason to beat that cook's ass."

-yay now you're dating! but you still have to give him a couple more bonks because he's more focused on beating the shit out of sanji!! and he Will cuddle you later that day because he's been waiting so long for it but he's also gonna be super blushy and embarrassed.......

[acynicalsweetheart]

LOVE IS A LOSING GAME

pairing: pre-tulpar!curly x fem!reader

word count: 3.0k

content warning: age gap (curly's in his 30s), established relationship, daddy kink, praise kink, breeding kink, sex, tummy bulge, mentions of pregnancy, mild obsession/dependency, sort of sappy and soft here and there… canon events of mouthwashing do take place after this

author's note: hi… still nervous to death about posting even if i already shared this on my ao3. i think i yapped enough there so yah. first fic + smut ever btw LOL that's why it's so.. lack lustre. supposed to be the last day before his tulpar departure. any interaction appreciated! inspired by softer softest from rimqueen on here .

It’s the last day.

The last day, if your star-crossed streak strikes again, you’ll ever see your Curly. You don’t want him to leave, why would you? Most importantly, why would he? His job is proclaimed to be your full-time daddy, not up in the galaxy, not in the middle of spacefuck nowhere. 

It’s five minutes past seven pm. Five minutes past the time he was supposed to be home. Of course you’re worried sick, what if he left early? To the ship, that is. You’re just pacing, anxiously turning your engagement ring left and right, the one Curly got you. The one that sits painfully cold and tight around your finger, not pleasant the way it does when he’s home—a reminder of his promise. Right now, it’s your only comfort, worrying with you as you overthink, flipping through all the reasons of why he isn’t home yet. 

You don’t trust that strange guy he always hangs out with, that shady type. His name leaves a bad taste in your mouth every time you say it. Every time you hear someone else say it. What if Jimmy’s the one who took your Curly away? He looks like he would. You can’t stand the way he looks like a wet and grumpy street cat living amongst dumpster trash. Your daddy is nowhere near dumpster trash, you truly don’t understand what he sees in him. He’s fond of Jimmy in a way that makes this dark-black cloud of jealousy settle snugly in your heart. 

The fact that he’s going to be up there with him and not you, for twelve and a half months—more than a year, that isn’t right. If you got pregnant today, you’d have to raise your baby all alone. Curly says he’s going to marry you when he gets back. All you hope is just that he does get back. 

You’ve got a Curly-shaped itch between your legs that only his dick can reach. 

Seven minutes past seven pm is when you hear keys jingling outside the front door. Seven is certainly not your lucky number. You’re on him the second he steps in, jumping up into his lap, lips smashing onto his before he can even inhale. Curly grabs onto you like it’s his instinct to do so. Has it been seven minutes or seven years? 

“Daddy!” You cup his face in your hands, stubble grazing your palms, almost wanting to shake some sense into his head, eyes searching for his. “What took you so long?”

“Sorry, honey, I—“ Curly’s voice is quickly muffled by your lips again, you just couldn’t resist shutting him up with another kiss. 

In your defence, he shouldn’t have come home looking that kissable and that fuckable. 

“Thought I’d lost you...” it’s a breathy admission, thumbs stroking over his cheekbones like he’s the most precious porcelain doll. You hug him tightly, gripping onto the fabric of his clothes and hope that maybe, just maybe, you’ll both be frozen like this forever. 

“Don’t worry, baby,” he chuckles reassuringly, bouncing you up and down the way he should be doing on his cock. “Daddy was getting fitted for his new suit, took a few more minutes than expected.”

You hadn’t even noticed that he was wearing it. Frankly, you don’t care what he’s wearing—you need it off, and you need it off now. 

“Yeah?” You ask as you pull back, taking another moment to look at him. 

“Yeah, fits like a glove,” Curly replies, seemingly way too proud. 

Like he is completely oblivious to the fact that he’s a walking, talking, living and comically oversized sex doll. Makes your stomach pool with the most uncomfortable cocktail of worry and arousal. How many people are gonna see him in that? Either way, you need to fit him like a glove. Right now, as a matter of fact. 

“Well, I missed you.” You pout, absentmindedly smoothing down the collar of his uniform. 

“Missed you more,” Curly noses at your cheek, saying that like he’s sure of it. 

“Then take me to bed,” it’s but a simple phrase, yet it makes Curly blush all the same, even at his age. 

“Alright, baby. As you wish.”

You drench Curly’s face and neck in kisses while he carries you to bed, hopefully getting him just as turned on as you are. Although you think you take the cake, you’ve been pining for twelve hours straight, since he left for work this morning. It’s hard, not being able to last one day without fucking the shit out of him. 

Curly sits on the edge of the bed, but you want him in the middle of it. You want it to be special, to honour the nagging feeling in the back of your mind that keeps telling you it might be the last time. You want it to be your very own, personal romance movie—starring nobody else aside from you and Curly. 

You straddle him, legs struggling a little to fit on each side of his, hovering over the spacious and sparsely golden-haired expanse of his thighs. You’d like to ride them sometime, feel what it’s like to get them sticky with your juices. There’s so many things you want to do with Curly, do to Curly. So many things you might never get the chance to do.

His hands settle on your hips for the moment.

You unbutton his uniform, actively working against your lack of self-control to not just rip it off. You unbutton it like there’s time, like Curly isn’t leaving tomorrow, like it isn’t fully probable that this is the last time you’ll ever see each other. 

Button after button, the blond tufts of ocean waves on his chest reveal, getting sparser and darker to the trail down to the marbles of his stomach. You can’t get enough of him, his majestic fucking stallion face, flushed cheeks, huge tits, ridiculously big dick; everything that makes Curly, Curly. 

You need him so badly you can almost taste it. Taste him. Somewhere in your reddening, quickening heart, you hope that he needs you just as badly. 

“Daddy,” you start, but he’s already undressing, tugging the uniform down his legs. 

“I know, baby.” Curly leans in to peck your cheek, makes quick work of taking off your nightie. 

He unclasps your bra the same way he’s done a million times before, leaving it on top of the pile of shed clothes. He pulls your panties off, helping you lift one of your legs after the other. Curly even takes off your fuzzy socks. 

Your pussy’s crying out for your daddy, leaking onto his boxers and darkening the fabric. You’re soaked to the bone, stripped to the bone, all for him. 

You’re the one who leans in to kiss him again, shivering when he moves a hand to the nape of your neck, keeping your hair from spilling onto your naked frame. Curly’s other hand smooths down your side before his roughened fingertips find your swollen clit.

If your pussy could talk, it’d be screaming how badly it needs daddy. 

Curly touches you gingerly, his kisses swallowing every noise you make. He never outruns the achingly slow and gentle way he touches you in, doing it all so softly as if you’d break if he did it in any other manner. 

He buries his face in your neck, peppering kisses up and down, lips lingering on the spots he knows feel good for you. But Curly doesn’t bite, doesn’t suck, doesn’t leave a mark like you want him to. He doesn’t leave anything to show that you’re his—that he’s yours. 

The circles against your bud are doing numbers even if his touch is nothing but ghosting, tickling the nerves. Your hips buck to meet his touch, craving the feel of his fingertips on every millimeter of your clit the same way anybody craves anything.

“Cum for me, baby,” he whispers knowingly, lips brushing against your ear. “Cum for daddy.”

It twitches under the pads of his fingers, eyes fluttering shut at the tingles starting in your toes and making their way up to your loins. Your blunt nails dig into his shoulders, leaving crescent moons. Something little to show that he belongs to you. 

You tense up, head hanging low as you cum with a needy whine, translucent stickiness dripping down your daddy’s fingers and your thighs. Your legs are trembling, but it’s not nearly enough. 

“Need you inside, daddy,” you state the obvious before Curly even has time to tell you how much of a good girl you are, movements a little clumsy as you start pawing at the giant bulge underneath you. 

You can’t really tell if the wet spot on the midnight fabric is caused by him or you. 

“Shh... I’ll give it to my baby.” Curly places a tender kiss to your temple, his bigger hand covering yours, pulling down his boxers and finally letting his cock spring free. 

He tugs them all the way off while you gawk at him as if it’s the first time you’ve seen him naked. It’s thick all the way around, sticky in a way only pussies are—pink like his lips, his nipples, his cheeks when you embarrass him or kiss him in all the right places. Curly’s tip is reddish in moments like this, the colour creating the most erotic opalescent transition to his base and patch of golden curls. 

You take Curly in your hand, smiling at the heaviness weighing it down. His breath hitches once you give it a few idle strokes, sliding his leaky head against your leaky slit before lining the perfect pair up. 

The stretch never gets old, it’s painful yet familiar—something you’re used to after all this time. Curly helps you slowly sink down onto his fat cock, guiding you inch by inch, grunt by grunt, with his hands on your waist until he’s all the way inside you. He’s so big that his tip nearly breaches your cervix.

You feel him all too well, every vein, every ridge, every shape no matter the size. Every pulse and heartbeat—consuming your love through the tightness enveloping him, milking him for all he’s worth. 

But you fit around him like you were made for him. 

You waste no time starting to move your hips, the slick, slick, slick already echoing throughout the room from your wetness, watching daddy’s dick bulging through your tummy. 

Curly’s hands shift around your body, keeping you close to him by your shoulders one moment, guiding your hips back and forth the other. It’s not long before he starts humping you back. 

“You’re taking me so well, princess,” he pants, voice whiny as he places open-mouthed kisses all over your chest. “Taking daddy’s cock so deep.”

You brush his hair back, the shorter curls falling onto his damp forehead, take in his kiss-bruised and red lips as he keeps panting—and you think Curly’s never looked prettier. Never looked more like your daddy, yours and only yours. 

Tilting his head up to meet your eyes, you can’t help yourself, “I need you, Curly.”

The only time you ever call him Curly is in public. The only eyes watching are his, taking in your expression—your brows that are pinched together and tears that are threatening to spill over your waterlines. 

“Baby, don’t cry, ‘m right here.” He pulls you impossibly closer, sweaty bodies sticking together in a naked and tangled lotus flower. 

“Don’t go,” it comes out shaky - unsure if it’s ‘cause of the way your clit keeps brushing against him for every hump, or if it’s the sadness that sits just as snugly in your throat the way his dick does in your pussy. 

“I’m sorry,” Curly’s moans leak into his voice, “I have to. You know I’d never leave you.”

“What if it’s the last time, Curly? What if you don’t come back?” 

“Fuck, baby,” his cock stirs inside you, rubbing against your sweet, spongy spot. “Don’t talk like that, won’t be the last time. I’ll come back, you know I will.”

It’s a momentary comfort, words he can’t even be sure he’ll keep, your pussy squeezing him tighter than ever at the thought. You feel your second orgasm slowly building up in the confines of your tummy, the white-hot rush you can’t be sure is adrenaline or neediness running through your body. 

“Promise me, Curly.” Your legs tense shut around him. 

“I promise,” from him is all it takes to send you over the edge, waves of pleasure washing over you like a tsunami, sucking him in deeper as the coil in you snaps. 

You whine in tandem, noises blending together in a pornographic orchestra. Only difference is that Curly’s desperate to cum. You’re desperate for him to stay. He moves his hips up, you move yours back and forth.

“Oh, baby...” he says under his breath, struggling to maintain a steady rhythm. “I love you.”

“I love you, Curly.” You press your clammy forehead against his, breaths mingling as you pant into each other’s mouths. 

It makes his thrusts stiffen momentarily, his dark blond lashes fluttering like butterfly wings as he tries his best to keep his eyes on yours. Curly’s moans are breathless, his cock twitching against your walls, followed by the sticky, long-awaited warmth of his cum spilling into you. 

You keep up your pace, not wanting to let a single drop go to waste, hips grinding against his like you’ve got something to prove—which you do. “Want your babies, Curly.”

He winces, holds back another whine, you kind of feel bad for wearing his dick out like this, wringing his balls of every single last drop of seed. But he doesn’t tell you no, not ever, he’d beat around the bush if it meant not seeing the look of a kicked puppy on your face after not getting what you want. Regarding everything apart from his work, from tomorrow. 

“You will, honey. We’ll have as many as you want, okay?” 

Curly holds you until your movements go slack, bonelessly slumping against him. He lays you down, pulls out with a quiet, sticky pop, his cum trickling out of you - much to your dismay. Your pussy feels empty without him inside you, like it’s missing a crucial part of its anatomy. 

You’re both staring at the wall, his head resting against your chest, fingers tangled in his post-sex messy curls, massaging his scalp. You wonder what Curly’s thinking of, if he’s thinking of you. You wonder if there’s a certain spot that’d act like a key if you massaged it good enough, make him unlock and tell you all his secrets. All the things running through his mind. 

“Don’t leave me, Curly. Just another day, okay? Tell them you’re sick or something... don’t wanna lose you.” 

You stick out your pinky finger for him to grab, dwarfing it when he does. Curly doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make a promise, doesn’t look you in the eyes. Just holds onto it, silently—like he knows he’ll let you down just as well as you do. 

And so you get dressed together, cook dinner together, sit bunched up on the couch together watching a shitty vintage drama about the Civil War just to make him happy. The question is if it’s all enough. 

He’s so okay with everything. 

It’s probably light on Curly—not having to see your worried face, quivering lips, stressed-out state. You wonder if he’ll even call, if they’re even allowed to call, if he even wants to call. 

You have a bad feeling about all of it. Not just that he could get lost in space, floating amongst the junk up there like that’s all he’ll ever be. It’s not only jealousy that sears in you, it’s this inexplicable feeling that you’ll never see him again. Like he might die. Or like you might die. From Curly withdrawal.

Who could go more than a year without seeing the love of their life? 

You wait for Curly in bed, wait for him like he is a million miles away already, somewhere in the galaxy even if he’s just in the other room. 

Your gaze drifts to the pile of clothes on the floor, memories of you and him tangled right here, on this very bed, flooding your mind in a way that is all too welcome—mildly bothersome. Your panties, his suit. 

That stupid fucking pony and its Pony Express logo ironed to the chest of his uniform. 

You want to hide it, tear it, incinerate it. If you did, Curly wouldn’t have anything to wear to work tomorrow. Knowing him, he’d probably show up regardless, but you wish there was a sliver of hope that he wouldn’t. Wouldn’t put it on, leave you, show up. 

You just let it lie there, on the floor—where it belongs. 

But he holds you all the same, lets his big arms lull you to sleep when the room’s pitch black and the smell of sex lingers faintly in the air. 

“Sweet dreams, my darling girl,” is lazily murmured into your hair, the scent of Curly comfortably overbearing as his frame eclipses yours. Is that going to be the last you ever hear of him?

“Night, daddy.” 

You dream of him, not unlike every other night. You’re married, you have babies, Jimmy’s out of the picture. Curly’s a baker, brings you home stupid and puffy pastries, and he’s too good at it. Too good at being your husband, at making you feel loved, at being homely in the way that suits him so perfectly. You fall asleep with this empty feeling imprisoning your heart—keeping it locked up behind bars until he’s unconditionally yours. 

The entire thing is too good to be true. 

Curly’s gone in the morning, he left you with nothing besides a dull ache between your legs and a pink post-it stuck to the bedside table. The cold metal of your ring sits mockingly mean and tight around your finger, strangling it so tight it cuts off your blood circulation. It’s a brazen reminder of your Curly, his promises. The fact that he may never come back. You wonder if he’ll ever be your daddy again—if he’ll ever be anybody else’s daddy. 

Your pregnancy test lies face down, two stripes for positive in the trash. 

[abiatackerman]

Can I request a sfw Oneshot of crying levi getting confronted by the reader and being snuggly with each other? Also love your works (>∆<)

Throughout the whole show Levi only cried twice. Once when his mother teacup broke and twice when Isabel and Furlan died. It's really hard for me to imagine Levi crying in a sober state but I tried to write a Oneshot for you.

Also sorry for being so goddamn late... I was really busy and couldn't get the time to write! Anyways enjoy!

When steel shatters

⚔️Levi Ackerman x Female reader⚔️

Captain Levi Ackerman x Female reader! Fluff and comfort! Emotional breakdown! Fluffy romance! 1.1k words!

Summary: After a rough day and getting drunk, Levi finally expresses his true emotions, searching for comfort from you.

Tags: @theremainsof @spouseofleviackerman @levisbrat25 @itsnathateasy @violentvaleska @anti-cupid @meowmewow7 @mikabella7 @satorella

🩷If you want to be tagged let me know🩷

✨Masterlist✨

🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

The small space of Levi's room is dimly lit by the soft glow of a single oil lamp on a sturdy wooden desk, casting warm, flickering light across the room as you sneakily enter. Shadows dance on the plain stone walls as a neatly made single bed with crisp white sheets and a simple gray blanket rests against one wall. The air carries a faint scent of tea leaves and cleaning supplies, a testament to Levi's meticulous habits.

Normally Levi keeps his room unlocked since he doesn't have anything important or expensive in his room and also because he knows no one dares to enter HIS room. Not that he spends much time here either.

You smile as you hear the sound of water splashing against the floor from the bathroom attached to the room. Of course Levi's taking a shower after a busy day and after dealing with lot of shitty things in his opinion.

You sigh and sit on the bed with a smile as you try to imagine him naked and wet while his showering. Blushing you shake your head because you know if you keep imagine him a little bit more you'll lost your self control completely and probably jump on him. And you don't want that... At least not today because you're here to show him some support after a hard day, not to jump on him.

As you hear the door opening you sit straight and smile widely.

"Hey Levi... I--"

You pause as you look at him. He's practically wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, displaying his deliciously stunning body which still have little droplets of water here and there.

"What are you doing here?"

Levi's annoyed voice slaps you out of your not so innocent thoughts and you blink. Smiling, you reply softly.

"Just wanted to see you. That's why I'm here."

Levi pulls a shirt out of his drawer and starts to wear it without looking at you.

"Didn't I told you not to come to my room?"

Levi asks coldly and you sigh.

"Heard you had a rough day... Just wanted to..."

You try to find the right words but Levi stops you.

"Console me? Show some sympathy? I'm not that pathetic that I'll be needing that. Not go back to you room."

He says as he wears his usual pants and you look at him speechless. You take a deep breath and stand up.

"Look Levi, I know you had a bad day but don't you think you're being too rude with me? When I just wanted to give you a little bit of comfort?"

You ask in an upset tone.

"No… You don't understand. What if someone else had sneaked in? What if your loud entrance had let them know you were coming, and they had hurt you? I'm the Captain of the Survey Corps, I have made a lot of enemies. I need to make sure you are safe and out of the spotlight so nothing happens to you."

You look at him worriedly as he lashes out. Then softly hold his hand, you look at him worriedly.

"You're acting out of your character, Levi? Is something wrong? What happened?"

You ask softly, not pressuring him to answer but still expressing your worries for him.

"Everything is wrong with me! I'm a disaster. I'm a bad leader, a bad friend, and a horrible lover! The only thing I’m good at is hiding. Hiding my emotions, my pain... Erwin's shitty plans."

There are tears pooling in his eyes, threatening to fall.

"I lost lot of people.. Was their sacrifice even worth it? When their family member were cries holding their corpses... I can't even look at them. Sone of them even had a children...."

You see Levi's eyes tearing up and you realise that he drank a lot. That's why he was late and since he is good at handling alcohol he's not completely drunk. But because of the alcohol he's showing his emotions and opening up to you.

Wrapping one arm around his neck and by patting his back with the other you start to whisper softly in his ears.

"Don't say that, Levi. You're the best soldier out there.... You've killed a lot of titans! That's a huge achievement! You're everyone's encouragement, darling. And you're a great friend... Also lover."

You say and move your head right in front of his while wiping his tears away.

"Don't say that please.... It hurts me. Seeing you hurt... Insulting yourself.... It hurts me."

You say as your voice cracks and as you try to smile.

Levi pulls away slightly so that he can look at you in the eyes.

"I'm not the best with words. I'm blunt and harsh, I know. But I would never intentionally hurt you… I love you too much."

He whispers, cupping your face with his hand.

"After losing Isabel and Furlan.... If I lose you too.... I'll be broken completely.... You're the only one to whom I can truly open up. Please don't leave me."

Levi whispers and hugs you tightly, burying his face in your neck. You sigh and pat his back, smiling softly.

"I won't... As long as I'm alive."

Then you chuckle again as you feel Levi nuzzling his face against your shirt to wipe his tears.

"What are you doing?"

You ask in an amused tone and feel Levi's body getting more heavier.

"It's just... Shit... I drank a lot today... And now it's hitting me. I'm tired."

Levi mumbles and you smile as you help Levi to lay down. He sighs deeply and covers his eyes with the back of his arm. You smile softly and cover his body with a blanket.

"Go to sleep, love. You've been working hard."

You mumble softly as Levi hums sleepily.

"Night, Angel."

[siwolism]

I don't think the people in the youtube comments, whom you were angry at, were anymore or less ignorant about Korea than so, so, so many other Americans who come from other racial backgrounds. But uh...they likely do suffer at the hands of the state which is america much much more brutally than many others of the country. I don't think singling african ameticans out like that is fair.

yeah man that’s why i thought they were salvageable. because growing up in the dprk and later in rok with a north korean mother i was taught a lot about black usamerican revolutionary groups. the solidarity between for example elements in the black panther party and the dprk is well known to all north koreans. i dont try and educate white people or asian usamericans (i literally made a joke post a week back or so saying we need start killing korean californians) because they are a lost cause. but i assumed that maybe black usamericans would be more likely to understand why this would make koreans uncomfortable and which is why i made my original post, it was more a psa then anything. unfortunately it seems that, atleast on tumblr, any usamerican, regardless of race, would rather turn into hitler then accept that sometimes they are the bad guys lol

[slttygeto]

༉‧₊˚. episode 08: lost in the fire.

preview: " . . . Without a second glance, he flicked the cigarette to the ground and crushed it beneath his foot, his voice low and taunting. “I don’t feel guilt, doll.”

“I…” you cannot put into words how you feel, it feels as though you had swallowed your tongue and any smart retort you had prepared is thrown out of the window. Shuji notices the change in your expression, how you went from being incredibly affected by his words to nothing all of a sudden. There’s an emptiness behind your eyes as you nod at him. “You’re right.”

And then you were gone. ."

word count: 5,3k

content warning: nsfw warning! heavy smut, choking, biting, n!pple sucking, unprotected s/x, not enough foreplay, jealousy.

༉‧₊˚. note: happy new years :) starting 2025 with a new chapter! thank you to my amazing best friend @aurelianamu for being my beta reader and helping point out mistakes and things that needed serious editing! i am still on a hiatus, but enjoy reading. thank you!

༉‧₊˚. reblog + comment!

➜ MASTERLIST

Hanma openly admits his vocabulary isn’t exactly expansive, chalking it up to his teenage self choosing cigarettes over books, biker gangs over libraries and nasty fights over going to school. Only that he knows a couple of words, they’re still insufficient when he is facing this hurricane of emotions and fails to locate the heart of it. He can’t pull the plug on something that’s blurry, so he sits in his car and looks out of his window. The vehicle trembles in sync with the rhythm of his restless foot.

A tattooed hand goes up to his face, and he slides down his blouse cuff to stare at the watch adorning his wrist; 10:32PM. You had to be awake, right? 

One would question why he couldn’t simply send you a message, and the truth is far more complicated than that suggestion. He can’t message you when he was the one who told you he doesn’t fuck you on your period. You were offended by his tone more than what he was implying, and told him and he quotes ‘to go fuck himself and never come back again’. 

Now, this wasn’t the first time that the two of you had a petty argument, the earliest one Hanma can remember was of him saying he didn’t want to eat your homemade food because he thought soup was boring, and you had glared at him the whole night until he apologized with his head between your thighs. Or when you tried to insinuate that he was so much softer than you had thought, the night ended with tears streaming down your face as you gagged and choked on his cock. 

The two of you didn’t know what communication was, sex seemed to be the solution to everything. Well, except for this time.

You were understandably hormonal when you texted him, asking if he could drop by and hang out with you for a couple of hours at the beginning of November. And him being an asshole, he made some poor joke about how ‘he doesn’t fuck women on their periods because they’ll get attached’ and the rest is history.

Hanma doesn’t think he fucked up that badly, but that wouldn’t explain the fifth cigarette he throws out of his car window as he glares daggers at your balcony door. You can’t keep ignoring him forever, it’s been ten days. 

He mutters a sharp “fuck” under his breath as he swings the car door open, stepping out and locking it with a press of his key fob. His strides are long and confident as he reaches into the pocket of his suit pants for another cigarette. Shielding the flame with his hand, he lights it, the glow briefly illuminating his face before he tucks the cigarette between his index and middle finger. He ascends the stairs, smoke curling in his wake as he eyes the apartment doors one by one. Ironically, the one thing he had memorized beside the feeling of your hallway, was the smell of homemade food that emerged from beneath your doorway, a scent which was forever engraved at the forefront of his mind. 

A familiar wooden door greets Hanma as he steps into the dimly lit hallway, and he braces himself for how many times he is going to knock to get you to open the door for him. The memory of you whisper-yelling at him to just get in flashes before his eyes and an amused smirk finds its way up his lips, but it’s immediately wiped off when the door suddenly swings open. Surprised, he takes a step back with furrowed eyebrows, hand reaching towards his gun holster out of instinct. 

Then he hears it, the sound of high heels clicking against the tiles. 

You step out of your apartment with your back facing Hanma, allowing him to scan your outfit for a brief moment. It was cold outside, so you were wearing an oversized, fluffy and warm jacket on top of what he believes to be a short dress, and the black stockings you had chosen for the night bring more attention to your legs. To match the aesthetic of the outfit, you chose to wear your knee high, black leather high heeled boots, adding a couple centimeters to your height. And to finish off the look, you had styled your hair in a way that Hanma could only describe as intoxicating. The perfume you were wearing was dizzying, and it only worsens when you turn around and Hanma sees you with a full face of makeup. The right amount of glitter, the sharp eyeliner, the mascara giving your face that doe-eyed look and finally, that lip combo.

Where the hell were you headed to?

The good thing about working in corporate jobs was the amount of birthday celebrations to look out to. You had at least two birthdays each month, and November was no exception. But to ensure that not every winter birthday is celebrated inside the company, a co-worker took it upon themselves to invite everyone to a club, and who were you to turn down the offer? 

You hated being holed up in your apartment for too long, it made you feel claustrophobic and anxious, and you were getting sick of your balcony and the same boring view. The moment you step out, you get a whiff of cigarette smell and instantly, you realize who was behind you. Your movements are slow and careful as you lock your door, fix the scarf that’s wrapped around your neck to keep you warm then–you see him.

Hanma doesn’t miss the way your eyebrows twitch when you lock eyes with him, he can’t deny that the slight purse to your lips makes the coil in his stomach tighten, then your frown deepens. 

“Smoking’s not allowed in the hallway,” you point out towards the cigarette bud hanging between his fingers.

“Where are you going?” he completely dismisses your statement, eyes scanning your outfit from head to toe for what feels like the hundredth time. He knows exactly what hides beneath those layers of clothing, he’s touched and felt and groped it so many times already–then why does it bother him that you’re dressed so prettily for an occasion?

You’re already fed up with him, your high heels clicking against the tiles as you walk past him and Hanma almost groans when he gets a whiff of your perfume. Fuck, why did he have to be so stupid?

“Whatever, don’t stay here for too long or else they’ll kick you out.” You announce as you call for the elevator, pressing the button as you put your keys in your handbag. 

The tall man is quickly standing behind you. He knows why you’re ignoring him, but he doesn’t think it entirely justifies not answering him. “Did you not hear me?”

You scoff. “You’re saying that?” 

“It’s different, I’m asking where you’re going–”

“And now I’m asking you to mind your own business?” you hear a ding and step onto the elevator, Hanma right behind you. “I’m a grown ass woman.”

“Never seen your grown ass outside at night.” How blunt.

“Oh right, because in the last two months when you’ve known me and rarely ever visited may I add, you’ve never seen me go outside after 8PM?” 

You were bitter, that’s understandable, but that doesn’t explain completely avoiding his question, does it? He was only asking about your whereabouts so that he knows where to expect to see you! 

And perhaps even follow you there. 

Hanma bites his tongue at your words. He would never admit that you were right, or that he messed up by completely ignoring your phone calls and messages because you had told him that you were on your period. However, everyone makes mistakes and it’s what makes us human…

…or however that saying goes. 

The elevator starts to go down, his golden eyes alternate between scanning the number shown in bold colors indicating the floor number and the screen of your phone. You were sending a text in a group chat, he could see the name of it–something about your company, and next to it was the word ‘birthday party!’. He’s thankful that he’s being sneaky enough to be able to look at what you were typing, however that doesn’t last when you finally notice that he has grown a little too quiet. You hide your phone in your chest.

“Can you not?” you hiss, voice laced with venom as you shoot him a glare over your shoulder. 

“A colleague’s birthday?”

“What are you, twelve?” you furrow your eyebrows as you turn to face him fully. Even with high heels, you don’t reach his full height and you hate it. You hate that you are looking up at him, at his handsome face which you didn’t see for a full week, and you absolutely despise the way he is staring at you.

His eyes were devouring you, forcing you to think of anything but how you’ve made them roll to the back of his head countless times. You refuse to stare at his bulging arms, or how his hair was slightly disheveled from running a hand through it. Was he frustrated by his own actions? You hope he was, you hope he fisted his cock pathetically to the thought of you, that his whines were so loud it echoes in his empty apartment. You pray that a mission interrupted his alone time, and he had to finish off some guy he didn’t like with painful blue balls.

And you fervently and desperately hope that he cannot read your true thoughts.

“Add sixteen years to that,” he replies while bringing the cigarette to his lips, taking a whiff from the stick. He pulls his hand away, smirking when he notices the slight shift in your expression and it worsens when he blows smoke on your face.

“Stop that! I don’t want to smell like cigarettes when I get in the car!”

“Oh?” he tilts his head to the side, golden eyes locked with yours as he searches for another clue. “So you need a car to get there?”

“I would be crazy if I walked outside dressed like this.” you ignore his intense stare, masking your nervousness with annoyance as you pull out your phone again. 

“Who’s driving you there?”

“None of your damn business.” 

“An uber.” The elevator finally dings and you hurriedly step out of the cubicle, trying to get away from him as far as possible. 

“Oh! We got ourselves a detective here!” you exclaim jokingly, the sound of high heels clicking against the tiles echoing in the empty hallway. “You should work for the FBI, has anyone ever told you that?”

Hanma ignores your comments, his strides long and purposeful as he walks right behind you. “You keep clutching your purse, it’s open so you can make sure that your credit card is there and your forgetful ass didn’t actually miss anything. You’ll stop getting anxious when you get into the car and pay the driver–”

“Stop that!” You finally turn around to stare at him, and the tall man has to stop himself from scooping you into his arms and fucking you against the nearest wall. You puff out your chest like a balloon ready to burst, a fragile show of dominance and anger, but you were clearly fed up and you couldn’t handle hearing his voice anymore.

“You think you can read me easily, you think using your little criminal tricks on me will get you off the hook, it doesn’t.” you get even closer to the man, a manicured finger poking at his chest with each syllable rolling off your tongue. “You think you’re the only one who can read me? Well, I’ll tell you what’s in front of me right now.”

Hanma remains unnervingly quiet, so you continue.

"I see a man who couldn’t keep his word if his life depended on it. Someone who drowns his guilt in cigarette smoke because facing it is too much to bear. A man so shaken by the idea of me living my life without catering to him that he’ll go as far as to ruin it for me, hoping to force a reaction out of me. Well, guess what? You won’t. So enjoy your misery and your frustration, because tonight? You won’t be getting anything from me"

The only sounds breaking the stillness of the moment were the occasional hum of passing cars outside the building, their distant echoes a sharp contrast to the suffocating quiet of the hallway. The air around you felt heavy as you struggled to catch your breath, your face was in flames. Your gaze flickered wildly over Shuji’s expression, desperate to find even the slightest crack, some hint that your words had gotten to him, that they had landed where they intended to. 

But all you were met with was silence, dragging on until a scoff cut through the air and you felt your chest tightening. 

Without a second glance, he flicked the cigarette to the ground and crushed it beneath his foot, his voice low and taunting. “I don’t feel guilt, doll.”

“I…” you cannot put into words how you feel, it feels as though you had swallowed your tongue and any smart retort you had prepared is thrown out of the window. Shuji notices the change in your expression, how you went from being incredibly affected by his words to nothing all of a sudden. There’s an emptiness behind your eyes as you nod at him. “You’re right.” 

And then you were gone. 

He doesn’t try to follow you, the sound of your high heels clicking against the concrete becomes a distant sound the farther you walk away and he stands near the entrance of the building with his hands buried in his pockets. 

It was time to work.

—

“Where were you? We were looking for you!”

“Sorry! My cat threw up on the carpet and I had to clean it real quick,” you say with a wave of hands, looking around the crowded area with bright eyes. “Seems like the birthday girl is having fun!” 

You see a flash of red hair on the dance floor, and chuckle when you notice the way she seemed to effortlessly become the center of attention. People were cheering her on, clapping and asking the DJ to change the song just to match her energy. Meanwhile, you decide to take off your coat and place it on the chair that a coworker had reserved for you. 

You weren’t the type to go clubbing, years of being constantly guarded by your brothers had left you tense and uneasy under the flashing lights, but you envied those who did it so effortlessly. They wouldn’t look as awkward as you do. 

That is until you feel a pair of eyes following your every move, and you are forced to look at them. 

It was a coworker, someone you had grown comfortable around because of his kind gestures. He would offer to help you carry papers around even if you were going to take the elevator, and when you ran out of water or your favorite drink in the fridge, he would be the first to request a restock for you. He was a gentleman, one that didn’t know how to hide his attraction towards you.

And you didn’t seem to mind it, a woman could appreciate being treated nicely once in a while.

“Not going to join them?” He gestures towards the rest of your colleagues who seemed to be enjoying their time on the dance floor. You chuckle as you shake your head, leaning back in your seat.

“Dancing is not my thing,”

The man, whose name is Tomoya, takes this as an open invitation to sit across from you. He puts his elbows on the table as he leans forward, clearly invested in the conversation.

“Why? It’s just moving your body to the beat.”

You press your lips as you hum, leaning towards the brown haired man as you respond.“Hmmm, I’m not sure if I like that.” 

“How about this, if I can change your mind, you–” he pauses as he points his finger at you, eyes glimmering with mischief. “--go on a date with me.”

You scoff, raising an eyebrow at him. “A date?”

“Yup.” 

How do you explain this to a man you hardly speak to at work? How do you tell him that your life is already entangled with someone else–someone too deeply involved in your world to simply cut loose? The idea of going on a date with Tomoya doesn’t seem so bad, but the thought of facing Hanma, of telling him about the possibility that you want to end whatever it is you have, makes you hold your head in your hands. 

“We’ll see.”

You’ll deal with it later.

The rhythm of the music reverberates through the air as you find yourself on the dance floor with your colleague, Tomoya, who seems to be enjoying himself far more than you. The bass is heavy, the lights flicker like a heartbeat, and for a moment, you can almost forget your reservations. His encouragement draws a timid smile from you, and despite your clumsy attempts to follow his lead, you eventually surrender to the music. The tension in your shoulders eases as your movements become less forced, and soon enough, you find yourself laughing and moving your body to the beat.

You walk through the crowd to greet the birthday girl, your grin bright and contagious as you ask if she’s having fun. Before long, Tomoya succeeds to reclaim your attention. His lips move, but it’s hard to hear anything with the loud music.

“What?” you call out, cupping your ear for emphasis.

With a smile, he leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “I said, you look beautiful.”

Goosebumps rise on your skin at his words, and your face heats up. Your laughter quiets down as you shyly glance away, scanning the room for an escape from his intense gaze. That’s when you see him. A familiar figure near the bar freezes you in place. Your chest tightens, the world blurring as you focus on the tall man leaning casually against the counter.

“Are you okay?” Tomoya’s voice snaps you back, but your response is dismissive.

“Yeah, yeah,” you pat his shoulder with a forced smile. “I’ll be right back.”

Your steps quicken as you drag your feet through the crowd, each stride bringing more dread. Please don’t be him. Please. But as you approach him, there’s no denying it. That sharp grin, the cigarette dangling between his fingers–it’s him. Your hand finds his shoulder before you can stop yourself, and when he turns, you’re met with those golden eyes that seem to silently mock your surprise. 

“Well, what a coincidence, doll,” Hanma drawls, his voice dripping with amusement. “Do you need something?”

“Excuse me,” you snap, your hand gripping his forearm as you pull him to his feet. “We need to talk.”

“Oh absolutely,” he smirks, letting you drag him past the sea of curious eyes. He seems far too entertained for your liking, his laughter barely contained as you shove open the door to the women’s bathroom.

The startled gasps and shrieks from the women inside only add to the dread you were feeling. You glance around apologetically, muttering a quick, “Sorry,” as they scurry out, a few of them shooting you knowing looks. 

“Relationship emergency?” one asks before disappearing out the door.

“I don’t know,” you mutter, locking the door behind you.

“Are you insane?” you whirl around, glaring at Hanma as he leans casually against the sinks, an infuriating smirk painted across his face. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Why? Did I ruin your little moment out there?” His tone is playful, but there’s an edge to it that makes your throat tighten and your mouth go dry. “Mad that I stopped you from almost fucking him?”

“Don’t you even start–”

“Or what?” His voice drops, low and dangerous, as he pushes off the sink and begins to close the distance between the two of you. The confidence in his stride makes your knees feel like jelly, and you’re suddenly hyper aware of the way he towers over you so easily. “Tell me, doll, is this why you didn’t want to tell me where you were going tonight? Were you afraid I’d show up and fuck up your little date with that fucker?”

“Don’t call him that,” you retort, though your voice wavers under his suffocating stare.

His eyebrows raise, mock surprise etched across his face. “Oh? Defending him now, are we?”

“I’m not defending him!” you argue, though the crack in your voice betrays you. Shit, you were a nervous mess. “He didn’t do anything to deserve your anger.”

Hanma chuckles, low and menacing. “Anger? Oh, doll, I’m not angry. Not with him, anyway.” His steps falter when he’s inches away from you, his body caging you against the door. “Because we both know he doesn’t mean shit to you, right?”

Your silence speaks louder than words, and the corner of his mouth twitches upward.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmurs. “It’d crush him, wouldn’t it? If he knew why you’re so hesitant to go on a date with him.”

“I never said–” Your breath catches as his hand cups your jaw, tilting your face upward. 

“So you do want to go on a date with him?” His golden eyes burn into yours, searching for something, though his grin never falters.

You gulp, your voice barely above a whisper. “...maybe.”

His thumb brushes your bottom lip, and you can’t stop the way your lips part instinctively. “You’re a liar,” he coos, his tone dripping with mock pity.

“Am not–”

A gasp is ripped from your body when you feel his knee push past your thigh, landing perfectly on your clothed cunt as he presses you further against the wall.

“Let’s try again,” he purrs, pressing his lips against your ear. “Do you want to go on a date with him?”

Your lips tremble as you throw your head back, and Shuji’s hand lands perfectly on your throat. He feels a piece of jewelry there, but he ignores it as he squeezes your neck gently, drawing a quiet moan out of you. 

“I…” you start, unable to keep your eyes open as you feel your body burn up. The effect he had on you, the way it felt effortless to make a mess of you felt unfair. You gulp as you try to morph the lust in your gaze into anger. “I do.”

A pair of lips crash against yours almost immediately, and Hanma quickly catches as your knees give out on you at the impact. You would be lying if you said you didn’t miss this–his lips, how roughly he handled your body whilst making sure that nothing hurt you, because you craved it more than anything else. So you kiss him, fervently moving your lips against his as your hands claw at his shoulders and back. You felt like a flower starved of sunlight, withering in the absence of warmth and connection. 

Hanma couldn’t offer either, but his touch was enough to fill the void. 

He pats your butt and you jump, wrapping your legs around his waist before sitting you on the sink. The marble is cold, sending a sharp chill against your skin but it quickly fades away when Hanma’s lips travel down your neck, then your exposed chest where your perfume hits his nostrils the hardest. 

The tall man stands there, inhaling deeply as your scent washes over his senses, his eyes closing as he surrenders to its intoxicating pull. He notices the necklace, how it seems to be stuck to your skin even if it doesn’t match your attire and something coils in his stomach.

Without second thought, he sinks his teeth on the skin of your boob, a loud gasp ripping from your throat as your hand finds his hair.

“Not there–” You try to reason with him, but he doesn’t listen. Instead, he sinks his teeth into a different spot, watching as you throw your head back, your back arching in response, a wave of pleasure taking over.

If he could, he would tear that piece of jewelry from your body.

“Shuji,” the sound of his name slipping from your lips is a melodic drawl, intoxicating him like no drug ever could. An animalistic growl rumbles from the back of his throat as he pulls down the top of your dress, revealing your boobs. The cold air makes goosebumps rise on your skin, and your nipples instantly harden under the attention given to them. 

He fervently licks and sucks on the buds, shoving his hands under your dress. You are lost in the pleasure, fingers digging in his scalp as he gently bites on your left nipple, his hand groping the other breast. 

Then you hear a tearing sound, followed by a sudden chill, making you shiver as the coldness creeps in.

“Oh my god!” you scream in horror, instinctively trying to close your legs as you eye the ripped stockings. “Those were expensive you fucking asshole!” 

“Fuck that,” your heart stills when you see him lean down, biting your inner thighs and salivating at the sight of your black thong. “I’ve got money.”

“Y-You’re not buying me a-anyth–ah!” you try to cover your mouth when you feel his head get shoved between your thighs, a wet tongue pressing against the fabric of your thong. And then, you hear a dark chuckle. 

“You smell so fucking good. Did all that fighting turn you on?” he pulls away, his fingers playing with the straps of your thong. “Or did you fuck around hoping that I’d fuck the attitude out of ya?”

Stubborn yet looking for a good fuck, you respond breathlessly.“No.”

“No?” he tilts his head, a mocking expression on his face as he purses his lips. “So you don’t want me to fuck you?”

He sees you look down at your own lap, and bursts out laughing as he finally removes the fabric off of your body. “Ah, you’re so fucking adorable,” he moves away from the sink and starts to unbuckle his belt. You sit up on the sink to admire him as he frees his hardened cock, stroking it a couple of times before standing between your thighs. He notices your starstruck gaze, and a low chuckle rumbles from the back of his throat, as if amused by the effect he has on you.

“Cockdrunk already?”

“Shut up.” You pull him in for a kiss, your hand traveling down to line up his tip with your entrance. He parts his lips, but then you feel him smile against your mouth. You open your eyes to meet his gaze. 

He watches with an amused grin as your jaw goes slack the moment he pushes himself inside, but it quickly fades away when the wetness of your pussy washes over his senses and he has to take a moment to ground himself. 

He can’t cum too quickly, that would be pathetic.

Hanma doesn’t take long before starting to fuck you, slow and calculated thrusts quickly turn into hurried and sloppy ones when your pussy clamps down on him with each kiss he presses to your pulse. He feels his self control slipping through the cracks of his mind, and when he finally looks at your face again, he is reminded of why the two of you were fucking in the women’s bathroom. 

With a clenched jaw and flared nostrils, his hand travels to the back of your head and he yanks it back. 

“Thought we had an agreement doll,” he hisses through gritted teeth, barely able to keep his eyes open as he grips your hair. “I thought you knew that you couldn’t pull shit like that with me. But I bet you like it, huh? You love testing my limits–ah fuck!” you clamp down on him again when he hits that one spot that makes your eyes roll, the added friction of his crotch against your clit sending shivers down your spine as you arch your back.

“Oh my god!” you cry out, the burning in your scalp mixing with pleasure. 

Hanma leans forward, pressing his lips against your cheek as he growls. “Answer me.” 

Tears well in your eyes, overwhelmed by the sheer presence of him. He was everywhere–inside of you, touching you–and now it felt as though he was trying to invade your very thoughts. “Fuck, fuck Shuji please don’t stop, please–” 

He continues to fuck you at the same angle, licking his fingers to rub your clit in messy circles.“You like getting on my nerves, don’t ya? Makes it more fun for me to fuck you stupid.”

“Oh!” You gasp at the stimulation, eyes widening as you try to look down at where the two of you meet. “Oh, right there!”

“I asked you a fucking question.”He spits out venomously, his grip tightening around your head, forcing your forehead to press against his as he holds you in place.

“Yes!” You cry out, not caring about how fucked out you must look. “Yes, yes I do! I love it, oh my god please don’t stop fucking me, please–”

“Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought–come on baby girl, get filthy with me.” Hanma grins triumphantly, but the pleasure starts to wash over him. “Make a mess on me, pretty girl. Use my cock, you know how to do that.” 

He leans back, watching as you pathetically try to move your hips back and forth. After a few failed attempts, you break down in front of him.

“I c-can’t, I can’t!” You sob, your hips trembling and shaky. Hanma’s gaze locks onto yours, his dark eyes fixated on the tears streaming down your cheeks–the sight of you so fragile beneath him is enough to send him over the edge. “Please, please fuck me Shuji.”

“Fuck–” His hand wraps around your throat, fingers grazing your necklace as he captures it in the same motion, and then his hips find that same delicious pace. His fingers find your clit again, rubbing in the same dizzying motion that made you the loudest earlier, but instead he hears nothing.

You suddenly fall quiet as your body arches away from him and Hanma watches in awe as your hand shakily grips his forearm. The bathroom is filled with wet sounds of skin to skin, and then he feels something wet on his pants and a loud gasp painfully rips from the back of your throat. 

“Oh shit!” His proud laughter dies down on his tongue as your pussy clenches on him, burying his face in your chest. He reaches his own orgasm after a couple of strokes, biting down on your shoulder to muffle his own noises.

The two of you sit there in silence, with mostly you trying to familiarize yourself with your surroundings. You had never cum that hard before, not with a man at least, and your face burns with the realization that you squirted on him.

“Oh no, how am I going to clean that?” you don’t even notice that Shuji’s pants are soiled as well, his cock still nestled in your pussy.

“I don't pay cleaners so I can grab a mop myself.” 

“What?” you furrow your eyebrows as you stare at him. “What do you mean?”

“Did I not tell ya?”

“Huh?”

 His voice dips lower as his grin stretches wider, “I own this club, doll.”

2025 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[becauseimswagman1]

Jealous, much?

Trick Williams x Reader

A/N: This some smutty ass shit y'all. MDNI! Y'all are responside for your own reading exposure.

Warnings: sexy ass Trick Williams, minor coochie touching, unprotected p in v (no glove no love y'all! Come on!), choking, good communication, and dirty talking

-------------------------------------------

You scoffed looking at Lash and Trick in the ring together after his match. He was just reprimanding you about your onscreen relationship with Melo. You’re gonna ask him about this when he gets back, too, cause there’s no way he’s tryna play this game. 

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

Trick came to the back on cloud nine! He and Lash had finished cutting that promo and everybody was feeling it! They truly had good chemistry, but not better than him and you. His girl, you, Trick loved so much. One day, it’ll be you and him cutting promos and working onscreen together, creating real magic, just like how y’all do outside of the ring.

After getting congratulations from the staff, Trick went to find you. You were the person he wanted to see the most after every show, win or lose. But, you found him before he found you. 

You had this look on your face that meant nothing but trouble, he could tell you were annoyed about something. 

“Heyy~, baby.” Trick wrapped his arms around you, but when you pushed him away, he knew something was seriously wrong, “Yo, which one of these girls done pissed you off? Cause Trick Willy gone handle that on behalf of you baby.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you said, “Can we talk somewhere privately? Too many listening ears around.”

Trick furrowed his brows concerned, “Yeah, yeah. Let’s go back to my locker room.”

On the way there, you thought of how you could phrase what you wanted to say, so you didn’t come off angry. Though, you were angry, coming off that way through tone would just upset Trick and the conversation would be done through screaming instead of understanding. 

“Aight, baby, what’s wrong?” Trick asked when y’all finally got into the room.

“What happened to loyalty?” 

“Bae, what you talking bout? Loyalty? What?” Trick tried to wrap his arms around you, but you pushed him away.

He was confused, you were fine all night. What changed your mood so quickly?

“You and Lash out there… together like that…” you trailed off. 

“Oooh okay, this what you upset about. Bae, that’s just work, it’s nothing else going on.” 

Crossing your arms over your chest once again, you huffed, “That’s exactly what I said about Carmelo and I, but you nearly lost your job tryna stop something that wasn’t anything to begin with. It’s my JOB to have chemistry with him.”

Trick scoffed, “I know Carmelo. That’s not professional what he’s doing. He’s making actual passes at you 'cause you my girl and you know it.”

You cocked your head a little, “I know it? Okay,” you took a deep breath to calm yourself, “Trick, all I wanted was for you to get a taste of your own medicine. To see how you are through someone else’s eyes. Sure, I’ve noticed that some of Melo’s actions are inappropriate and I will talk to him about that. But, you also need to see that Lash’s actions are more than just work-related too and I know you see that. So, you need to get on her before I do.”

Trick nodded his head, “Okay, maybe there were some-” 

You cut him off, “Maybe? Trick, come on.”

Trick sighed, “Fine. There have been some things I picked up on. I just ignored it cause I knew I had someone better than Lash. I knew I had you waiting for me with open arms after every show. You my beginning and end, baby. You the woman I wanna walk down the aisle to see waiting for me. I love you.”

You smiled and sniffed a little, “Baby, don’t make me cry! I love you too.”

Trick wrapped his arms around, successfully this time, sighing with contentment at finally embracing you, “Don’t cry. We got some celebrating to do.”

Pulling away from the hug, “Oh we definitely do. Now, gimme that Trick Willy loving.”

Trick smirked, “Oh? In the locker room? Where everybody can hear you be loud?”

You smirked this time, “It’s not like we haven’t done it in here before, and,” you leaned in to whisper in his ear, “I won’t be the only loud one.”

Trick kept his smirk at your statement. He was excited to see this side of you. 

Lifting the bottom of your dress to slip his hands under it, caressing your ass, “Showtime baby.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips with yours, teasing you just a bit, and then he kissed you with such passion and force, that you almost stumbled backward. Kissing you always gets Trick harder than ever. Even the slightest of pecks causes him to chub a bit sometimes.

He rubbed your ass more, switching between cupping it in his hands and jiggling it. Then, he moved one of his hands to the front of your underwear, rubbing you.

You were borderline soaking through your underwear. You shared the intimate sentiment with Trick with kissing. 

“Wet already baby? Hm? You wet for me?” he rubbed your clit, putting a little pressure on it. 

You were ready to collapse in his arms. You didn’t know how badly his admittance of wanting to marry you had affected you. 

“Please…” you said, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Please, what? Huh, baby? Please, what?” Trick kissed your neck and pressed down a little harder, continuing to rub agonizingly slow. 

“I wanna cum on your dick, baby,” you said, lifting your head.

“Is that right? On my dick?” he pulled his hand from your heat, “Whatever you want baby?”

You looked into Trick’s eyes while tugging down his shorts, “Whatever I want?”

“Already know it.” 

“Good.” you stopped pulling at his shorts, “Take it out.”

The difference in your voice had Trick taken aback. Who did he just awaken?

He listened and whipped it out, stroking it a bit, 

“Now, sit down.”

“Shit….” he mumbled.

When he didn’t move fast enough for your liking, you pushed his shoulders a little, “Sit down, baby.”

Trick quickly went to sit down in a chair like you demanded.

You slid your underwear off and then climbed onto his lap. You grabbed his dick and rubbed it against your wetness, “I love you, Trick.” you said as you lifted yourself up and put the tip in. 

Trick grabbed your hips, attempting to help you slide down all the way, but you weren’t having it. 

“Move your hands, baby.” You were going to teach him a lesson. Coming at you sideways about another man while another woman was pushing up on him and he had the nerve to act clueless. You’ll slide down when you feel like it.

Grinding on his tip had Trick curling his toes, “Fuu…”

You stopped grinding, “What was that?” 

“Fuck me.” Trick said in the most whiny voice. You’ve never heard him like this. That shit had you dripping more than you already were. You knew you couldn’t deny yourself pleasure any longer, so you slid down. 

Trick finally felt like he could breathe. The teasing was finally over, “Shiit, please move.”

You smirked, now he was the one saying please. Moving your hips was a Godsend on Trick’s end. Your teasing on his tip and your controlling demeanor had him on the edge. 

“Shit… tell me how you feel baby. Tell me how it feels being in a pussy this good.” You bounced on his dick, making a point to come down hard, slamming your ass down on his lap. 

“Feels so good inside you, baby,” Trick wrapped his arms around your back, “Love being inside you, fuck.”

You bounced harder, a slapping noise mixed with yours and Trick’s moans can only be heard. You held your breasts as you rode him, “You wanna cum? I wanna cum. You gonna make me cum?” you asked him.

Trick nodded rapidly, “Yeah, baby. Want you to get yours.” his arms around you tightened, making you go faster. 

“Ooh fuck, fuck, fuck. Keep going, baby. I’m so close.” you moved one of your hands to rub your clit in fast circles, “SHIT! I’m coming, I’m coming!”

“Mhm, mhm. Let go for me. That’s right.” 

You twitched in his arms, a creamy ring forming around his dick. You flooding his lap. 

Trick slowed your bouncing down and looked at your fucked out expression. 

“You always look so fucking sexy after a good nut.”

Outta breath, you said, “Time to get yours.” then pushed his back flush to the chair y’all were sitting in together and rested your hands on his shoulders, “Take it.”

Trick planted his feet and started bouncing you again, thrusting up in time to meet your ass against his thighs, “Oh shit, baby.”

“Yeah? You getting close baby?” you slide your right hand up to his neck, applying a little pressure.

Trick felt a new pleasure, he had never been choked before, and the sensation was going straight to his dick. Trick had to slow down to prevent himself from coming too quickly.

“What you doing to me, baby? Fuck, you feel so good!”

You tightened your grip on his neck, “Come on, Trick. Get yours, baby.”

Trick unwrapped his arms and grabbed your ass, spreading your ass cheeks, and truly started fucking up into you. Lifting you, slamming you down, and thrusting up to meet that shit in the middle. 

“Shit, I’m almost there.” Trick’s eyes rolled back and stayed there, pleasure almost becoming too much. “Baby, baby, baby, fuuckkkk I’m finna bust.”

“Me too, baby, me too.” Seeing Trick in this state did more to and for you than you thought it ever could. Seeing him losing his mind like you normally would has you close. 

He moved you even faster on his dick, his moans getting lost in his throat, “Yeah, baby... wanna nut in that pussy.”

“Yeah? You wanna nut in me, baby? Ask for permission!” you knew you were done for if he did this. One hand is still on his neck and the other arm is thrown completely around his neck. You were holding on for dear life.

“Please! Lemme bust in you! Fuuu… please I can’t hold it!” his toes were curled impossibly tight.

“Cum with me Trick! Ohmy-fuck baby Yes!!” you came with a scream, wetting up his thighs and his lower stomach.

Rapidly nodding his head, he came with a long groan. Slowing down, but continuing to bounce you to ride out the high for as long as he could. 

“Oh shit,” Trick rested for forehead against yours, “Felt so good, baby.”

You kissed him as a response. Needing to feel his lips on yours to ground you a bit more from the earth-shattering orgasm you just had. 

And when Trick started to suck your tongue into his mouth, you took that as a sign to go another round, so you ground your hips. 

Trick grabbed your hips tight and stopped you, “Nah, I need a minute. You really wore me out.”

You giggled, “I guess I did, huh?”

He chuckled, “Maybe I should get you jealous more often, huh? Especially if you get like this.”

You smacked his chest, “Boy, hush up. Ain’t nobody jealous… but we both gone get our acts together about this, though.”

Trick nodded, “For sure.”

Getting close to his lips, brushing yours over his just like he did you, “You tell that girl what’s up and I’ll do you like this and more.”

He groaned at the thought, “I’ll make sure she knows her place.” 

You pecked his lips, “Good. Now let’s get cleaned up so we can go home and go a couple more rounds.”

“Yes ma’am.”

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