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crescenthistory · 7 days ago

Note

begging for a fic where regulus says “i love you” to reader for the first time and it FLOORS them bc reggie is not one to voice his feelings a lot, much less something as powerful as the feeling of love

listen, when i saw this ask i sat down and wrote this in ONE sitting, THANK you. you probably intended for this to be a scene at the beginning of a relationship, but i instead decided to psychoanalyse my poor darling reg for a few thousands of words and give him a patient partner. hope you'll forgive me lols<3

Words: 3k

Warnings: not proofread, the most ancient and noble black family trauma (including descriptions of abuse and neglect), gn!reader, black brothers angst and reconciliation, sunshine!reader, reader is very patient and understanding with regulus, kinda past bartylus, barty is a hugger here, reg pov so some spiraling, vague implied references to sex (so implied that i believe it's safe for minors, but just putting that out there)

on the tip of my tongue

It’s not that Regulus didn’t love you. Quite the opposite, actually.

It’s just that love had not been a spoken matter in his life until you barged into it. Love was implicit as much as it was hidden and reserved; something you grabbed greedily at while you had it and rationed carefully over the next few weeks or months, hoping to get by on it.

For a long time, Regulus thought his mother loved him. She was strict and firm, but when he came to her for advice, she would give it and might even pat him on the cheek if he accepted what she had to say readily enough. He would hold his cheek afterwards and syphon the warmth left from her touch, wishing there was a way for it to stay with him forever.

When he got to Hogwarts and experienced true, unrestrained friendship he realised there was a way for it to stay with him forever – the other party just had to not withhold it. His cheek would be warm if the people who loved him kept holding, kept returning. With them, attention was not something he was occasionally graced with, it was always on him, within easy reach.

It took him a while, but Regulus eventually got used to the physical affection, at least from his friends. He came to expect it and lean into it, which in and of itself felt like a weight lifted off his shoulders. There were hugs and pats on the back and tousled hair. There were pretend-scuffles on the quidditch field and the common room. There was that one term in third year where Barty decided he and Regulus simply must learn how to kiss and the boys spent most nights sneaking off into the empty common room and unskillfully, sloppily making out through kisses. There was that one night in fifth year where they picked it back up again.

Still, with the hands-on approach to love that Barty and Dorcas had and infused into their little safe haven of a friend group, it remained unspoken. There was the occasional “mate” or the nicknames he brought with him from home – “Reg” was fine and while he did not much care for “Reggie”, he let it slide due to the affection it held. The closest they got to spoken love were the promises to fiercely protect each other, to kill and die by each other’s sides if must be. To beat the living daylights out of anyone who lays a finger on the other and then hex the pain to stay with them forever. An oath of loyalty was their "I love you".

Other than them, Sirius had been his one source of affection throughout his life, but as everything else in Grimmauld’s Place it had been quiet.

Sirius was the perfect big brother, whether Regulus wanted to admit that or not. He held his hand when they crossed the street and held Regulus at night when he cried. Sirius taught him as much as he could, and though he occasionally was arrogant or impatient with his lessons, he didn’t give up on them. Regulus knew he loved Sirius at the very least, even if he had in more recent years questioned if that love was returned.

The problem with Sirius is that Regulus does not know of most of the affection the older boy showed him. Sirius insists that the two spent the majority of their first years attached at the hip, but Regulus struggles to remember much before the age of 12, which you had once told him he might want to look into with a professional at some point. To which Regulus emphasised the “at some point” more than the rest. So any hugs or touches or love Sirius showed him has been long since forgotten. Apart from the bed-sharing; Regulus remembers that vividly. Crawling into his older brother’s bed at night when he had nightmares, hoping Sirius could chase the monsters away. Regulus didn’t think he did it that often, but Sirius swore he once slept an entire three months solely in Sirius’ bed.

The most significant way Sirius loved Regulus, though, was through what he did for him, not to him, which Regulus did not himself see. He was such a good shield between their parents and Regulus that the young boy didn’t even realise the service he provided. Scoldings, blames and beatings – there was nothing Sirius did not take for Regulus.

If Regulus’ childhood was painful enough not to remember, he could not stand the thought of how Sirius’ must have been.

That is part of how he learned not to resent him for leaving Grimmauld’s Place – even that he did in part for Regulus. When left alone with an increasingly vexed Walburga Black, Regulus learnt quickly how severe some punishments can be. Consequently, he learned what Sirius had endured for him, how strong of a shield he had been.

Sirius knew he could no longer withstand the weight of that house, so he left, in hopes that he could be a better protector for Regulus from afar. Finding a good home full of warmth and smiles, and coaxing Regulus into joining him there under safer circumstances than he himself had. When the two had their infamous heart-to-heart, it was Sirius choking on the words “better protector” that finally broke Regulus – the first time he had cried in front of his older brother since they were little.

Now he knew well that Sirius loved him, beyond most words. And the things they said to each other during that talk where he convinced Regulus to leave might even mean more than a simple “I love you”. Still, it remained unsaid.

It was simply not tradition for Regulus Black to speak them.

Then, he met you.

What was that thing James always says? Game-changer? You were that for him.

Somehow, affection just came pouring out of you like you were overflowing with it and just had to share it. With your friends and your family, even strangers – it just came naturally to you. And when Regulus entered your orbit through his reunion with Sirius, you more than happily let that extend to him as well.

It absolutely floored him.

The first time you said “I love you” to him was long before you got together or before he even had the nerve to actively flirt with you. You ran into him in the hallway and stopped him, trying to squeeze as much conversation as you could out of him in the few minutes you both had between classes. It was evident you were soaking up his presence as if it was truly enjoyable, and it warmed something in him he was only able to name later on. When you had to run, you ended the conversation with a casual “okay, see you later, I love you, bye!”. Regulus was left gaping. Nearly ended up late to McGonagall’s class because of you.

Saying it as a form of temporary goodbye reminded him of how he used to ration his mother’s touches, it carried him until the next time he saw you. Except next time with you was dinner later the same day, and then breakfast and then hanging out in the library. He never had to wait long, never had to go wanton.

The love kept flowing freely from you in all the ways he had gotten used to over the years and then many more – physical touch, quality time, acts of services, words of affirmation, you checked off the whole list. He began calling you soleil, French for sunshine because of how you shone with that love for everyone. It was a slip of the tongue one day, and when he saw how it made you smile, he just kept calling you that.

With such a loving and lovely creature, Regulus thought he couldn’t help but fall in love with you; he was not at fault for it, you were entirely to blame with your loveliness.

His voice had shook some when he first confided in Sirius about it. The older boy had smiled fondly and joked, “That was not quite what I meant when I told you to make yourself at home with my friends, but I’m glad you’re comfortable.” Regulus argued he in no way shape or form felt comfortable with the emotion, but Sirius would have none of it.

His voice shook even more the first time he told you how lovely you look today, but unlike Sirius, you didn’t notice. You smiled and returned the sentiment with ease. He realised then that he would likely not be able to talk himself into a relationship with you, given his lack of skill and your lack of deducing any intent behind sweet words, so he went the Regulus-route as Sirius had called it.

Meaning, he pursued you through quiet, unwavering loyalty and company, attaching himself at your hip for as long as you seemed comfortable with it. When he realised there was no limit on the amount of time you were willing to spend with him, he went further.

Regulus went to hold your hand for the first time in Hogsmeade. Looking back on it, you both laughed at how he spent ten whole minutes inching his hand closer and closer to yours, practically holding his breath, awaiting a rejection or harsh response. Ever so slowly, he interlinked his pinky with yours. An opening both for you to take it further or cast him aside, whichever you pleased he would accept. The beaming smile you flashed as you looked up at him then, lacing the rest of your fingers together tightly, never left his mind for long.

Hand holding led to walking arm in arm which led to prolonged hugs which finally, finally found you both sitting in the Astronomy tower, kissing with large, dumb smiles on your faces. The same night you had your first kiss Regulus surmises you probably had your first hundred kisses.

Now, laid in bed beside you, two years into dating, Regulus could not imagine not being comfortable around you. He smiles fondly when he thinks of the boy he was before you decided to simply drown him in affection, but he does not relate to him anymore. There is no place he would rather be than here by your side, in the flat he purchased for the two of you straight out of Hogwarts – the last time he can remember panicking before asking you to take the next step in your relationship – playing idly with your fingers as you hummed some melody he could not place. It felt right.

The one thing that had remained the same throughout your relationship, both before and after it turned romantic, was that you overflowed with “I love you”s and he had not said it once.

You had talked about it before, of course you had. Sirius had given Regulus a stern talking to about communication when you first started going out, unwilling for his baby brother and friend to get hurt by their own stupidity.

“I don’t know if I can say it,” Regulus had said then. “It sounds ridiculous, but I don’t know how.”

“It’s a good thing you don’t need to then,” you had said so simply, through a smile that made his heart spin happily. “I know what I need to know. I like saying my truth because that’s how I am; but I am more than happy to accept you showing yours because that’s how you are. And I love you as you are.”

Regulus had known in his bones that you meant it, and that made it all the more sweeter. He attacked you with kisses after that, relishing in the giggles it drew from you.

“If it ever changes, will you tell me?” Regulus asked after, when you quieted down in each other’s arms. “If you ever need to hear it?”

You had said something about how you “do hear it”, always with your metaphors and abstract ways of viewing things. When Regulus, ever the pragmatist, had insisted on getting an answer to his question because “you know what I mean”, you had promised to tell him. You never did need to because it never changed for you.

It was Regulus it changed for.

In your shared bed, your hand in his as he followed its outline and your bare legs entangled, something deep in him shifted. You were sleepy and content above him, reading some paperback he borrowed you ages ago that you only picked up once you moved in together and all your books were in the same place anyway. He was laying half on top of your chest and staring at you with what had to be love in his eyes because that’s what he felt in his soul. He had been staring for the past half an hour, not even realising it, lost in his train of thought.

He had expected that when he would finally say it, there would be some grand reason, some special moment. Something that would cause that shift, something that required him to voice what he felt and you knew.

There wasn’t; it was just you and him, and he was so unbelievably happy and comfortable. He had tried microdosing love and you ended up giving him a lifetime supply instead. You were everything.

“Sol?” The question drawled out of him, mouth ahead of his brain but heart running miles before both.

You looked up with a smile, stopping your absentminded humming. “Yeah, love?”

His eyes crinkled at the corners and he spent another minute just looking at your face. You let him, indulgent and sweet as ever.

“I love you.”

You froze. The smile remained on your face, the same contentedness there, but your eyes widened and your hand on his back stopped mid-circle. “What?” you whispered.

He kept staring at you with a smile, almost finding humour in your increasingly shocked expression, though some old part of him remained alert for rejection. Which makes no sense, she tells you it every day, he reminded himself. Still, old habits die hard.

You decided to trade one question for another upon his silence and your mental recalibration. “Why?”

“Why?” Regulus repeated through a laugh, as if the thought was incredulous. “Have you met yourself, soleil? Have you seen what you’ve done to me? I’ve always loved you.”

You sat up quickly at that, jostling Regulus up with you, though he was less graceful in the change of position as he did not anticipate it. You looked at him with the same wide-eyed expression. “Not what I meant,” you said then.

Regulus opened his mouth to say something, though he wasn’t sure what.

“But you didn’t have to,” you blurted out before he could. Rushed, almost frantic. “Don’t say it because you think you have to.”

Regulus furrowed his brows in confusion before they cleared up in realisation of your fear. He shifted to sit closer to you, practically pulling you between his legs, and grasped both your hands softly. They had been hovering between your forms, as if over an injury you did not know how to treat. Slowly, he dragged his thumbs back and forth over your knuckles. “Amour, soleil,” he whispered, emphasising the words with all his might. “I know I don’t have to. I wanted to. I want to, it feels right. I– I love you.”

The second time, the phrase flowed more freely from his tongue. Easily. He found he quite liked the taste.

You opened and closed your mouth twice, eyes flickering all over his face as if to deduce whether you trusted his words. Then, ever so slowly, he saw that smile he loves so much begin to grow over your lips, that looked increasingly more kissable to him.

“Yeah?” you asked him breathily through your oncoming grin.

“Yeah, baby,” he whispered. “I love you. I always have, you know. But I felt like saying it now.”

Your laughter was almost watery as you squeezed his hands in yours. “I do know. And I love you,” you asserted clearly, as if there had ever been any doubt.

“So I’ve heard.” The cheeky remark was the last thing that left Regulus’ lips before he moved forward and captured yours.

Just like that first kiss in the Astronomy Tower, one led to possibly a hundred more. Giggles and sighs all mixed together into what Regulus was proud to call his life.

A life with you. A life of love.

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yandere-wishes · 1 year ago

Text

He's Just Ken

Summary: You're just Barbie, perfect on the outside, dead on the inside. He's just Ken, neither perfect on the outside nor on the inside.

Author's note: I condone neither patriarchy nor matriarchy. But I do love exploring different forms of mental exhaustion and extreme emotional dependency.

Warnings: Mental abuse, dark mental headspace, mentions of suicide and self-harm (only if you read between the lines), yandere behavior, yandere Ken,

Not every Barbie has a Ken. Not one for herself anyway. Every Barbie knows a Ken, but that Ken most likely belongs to her friend, or her neighbor, or one of the other Barbies. Not every Barbie has a Ken, but every Barbie knows a Ken. You know one too, one with sandy hair and ocean eyes. And a look that longs for something more. You know a Ken who keeps his heart from breaking by crossing his fingers and praying to the Malibu sun. You know a Ken who's only happy if a certain Barbie looks his way. Or rather you knew. This was before the world fell apart. This was before he destroyed it.

Ken returned without Barbie and the universe began to crack. It's fine you thought. It's fine you hoped. Ken -That Ken, the one who waited on the beach for hours on end until his Barbie walked by- returned from the real world preaching sermons on how the Kens were better, superior, the rightful rulers of Barbieland. How they didn't need the Barbies, how they no longer needed to settle for being treated as anything less than perfect. How they needn't be number two any longer. Ken returned without Barbie and the universe wept.

You've always known the real world was a messed up place. It had become evident when the thoughts started to creep in. That was years ago-albeit you'll admit you have no idea if Barbie years and human years aligned- years since you started to feel like a constant failure. Years since that harrowing voice began screeching endless dreadful thoughts into your cranium. Notions that festered your mind and heart, tiny maggots that chewed away at your soul. There was always something wrong and it was somehow always your fault. Then came the pain. Horizontal pangs that shot across your arm. Always in the same spot, always in a cluster of three. Barbies don't feel pain as intensely as humans, at least they're not supposed to.

You worried for your human back then. You truly did. But you were always too scared to leave Barbieland. Never brave enough to go find her. She's fine you hope...you doubt it though.

You also refused to go see Weird Barbie. Too scared of being labeled as anything less than perfect. So long as these thoughts merely remained inside you and no outward defects began to show, you would be fine. You could just pretend like everything was as perfect as it always had been.

Ken came back from the real world unscratched. Yet his words hit a chord within every other Ken. They began to take over. The Barbies were reduced to accessories. Pretty little things that clung to their lovers. Dressed in short skirts and maid outfits. Turned into what they weren't.

Ken destroyed what once was perfect. Yet all you could think as you watch the pillars of your homeland cripple and your friends descend into madness. Was how utterly beautiful he was.

The world turned upside down.

Barbieland fell.

Kendome rose.

And yet as everything the Barbies had worked all so hard to build came crumbling down. As your friends and neighbors began to lose themselves and submit to a tyrannical patriarchy. You found yourself utterly unaltered. Your world had been destroyed long ago. This was just another calamity that you would fake your way through. It would be easy, a lifetime of practice finally paying off. Stay quiet, stay in the shadows, no one would notice.

No one was supposed to notice...

Ken found you on the beach one night. A day or two after the hostile Ken takeover. He walked up behind you out of breath as if he'd been running.

The bonfire crackles, a warning, and a love song. Until now you'd only ever existed in his sideview. An afterthought as he impaled his heart and called it love. You had burned yourself in his rays and called it love. You're convinced neither of you knows what love truly is. The moon's rays dance as you two sit side by side. In the distance, you see Blue Mermaid Barbie and Mermaid Ken share a tender kiss. An unparalleled sight.

Ken sits next to you. Eyes following your every move. Scanning every dip and curve of your plastic corpse. He's just Ken you remind yourself with an uneasy breath. He's just Ken, nothing to fear. Although you're not entirely sure if those old ideologies shine through. He's Ken but somehow he's become unstable at worst, flammable at best. Something radioactive ticks inside of him waiting to detonate. Waiting to make the world feel a trace of his pain.

Ken's fingers intertwine with yours as waves of helplessness crash across your body. You were created to be ethereal yet all you see is perfection molded in the shape of Ken's face. He leans in, carelessly placing his chin in the subspace of your neck as he whispers. "I see the way you look at me" his warm breath tickles the shell of your ear. You flinch, in time with the breaking of the waves. "I know you want me" Reality blurs when Ken touches you. He pulls you between his legs as his lips kiss the back of your neck. His fingers run up and down your arm as if he's trying to memorize your shape, your soul, you. It's romantic you think but all you feel is puka shell shards stabbing your flesh. You know he's dreamed of this intimacy with the other Barbie.

you wonder if in his eyes you are merely a ghost. One he resurrected with desperate love and a broken heart. You wonder if he sees her, feels her, wants her. Yet he'll settle for you. The next best thing. The other stereotypical Barbie. Somewhere along the line, your own voice sounds, foreign to you. He's talking, his voice is smooth like silk. Fragile like window glass after a bombing. He asks you something, something you've dreamed of for all so long. He asks you to be his bride wife. You agree despite how degrading it sounds.

What once was a pink haven of fun and joy has now been turned into a mess of horses and black sunglasses. Barbie's dreamhouse is now Ken's Mojo Dojo Casa House. You feel like an intruder, like a traitor. You feel loved, wanted, needed. Someone once told you that truths can co-exist. It's all you can think to save yourself from going mad.

There's an unspoken easiness that comes with being with Ken. The way he's always around. His hands never leave you, tracing stars on your arms, running through your hair. He wants his presence to be felt.

"I like this" you confess one night as you rest your head on his arm. "I've always felt...less than perfect. Like I couldn't be good at anything like the other Barbies." Ken laughs and it feels like the stars have cladded you in their warmth. He pinches your nose with a soft smile. "I know the feeling," he mutters and you feel your heart crack. "But you don't have to worry about that. I'm here and so long as you're with me. We're both going to be perfect." You snuggle into his chest as you close your eyes. "Ken and Barbie" you sing, a mantra, a prayer. One for a better future. One for a happy life.

You have a dream house. Had one at least. You sometimes wonder which Ken lives there now. You wonder if his Barbie feels your presence radiating off the walls and the floor and the heart-shaped night lamp you once treasured. You certainly feel Stereotypical Barbie's presence echoing from every corner. You see her ghost whenever Ken pulls you onto his lap to watch a horse flick. Infuriated and distressed. You wonder if she's angry because you didn't join the rebellion. You wonder if she's angry because she thinks you took Ken away. You see her ghost again, feel her between the pause of two breaths. She glitches and fades as you hide your face in Ken's mink coat.

"I don't like being apart from you" Ken claims as he lays your body on top of his. One hand dangling off the couch the other curling your loose locks. To Ken a touch away feels like being galaxies apart. You kiss his chin and his cheek and his nose and finally his lips. It feels like a dream. One you refuse to wake up from.

Ken is gold.

Unmetable and solid.A kaleidoscope of hope

He has so much potential rotting inside of him.

Ken is gold.

Beautiful and everlasting.

His value lies in how pretty he is. How good of an accessory he's willing to be.

You wonder if he's sick of being gold.

You felt Barbie's ghost again today. This time looming and aggravated. She wants her presence acknowledged. She has something she needs to say. Ken was out, one of the rare times you two spend apart. Something about a beach off and rock paper scissors.

You wonder if a ghost haunting is their way of showing love.

You wonder if the Kens starting a rebellion is their way of showing love.

Barbie talks for ten minutes straight. You cling to every word, you forgot how much you missed the Other Barbie's voice. It's in the final beat of her sentence that you notice she's not a ghost. Not this time. This is Barbie, the girl who had been your friend since the day you left your box. "Help me" she pleads as she grabs your shoulders. "We need to fix this", you turn your head and smile a broken smile. "I can't" you confess.

It's easy to undo brainwashing. Even easier to reinstate it. What Stereotypical Barbie and her friends can undo. You can simply redo. Even Barbies prefer ease, a few simple half-truths sung into the right ear at the right time. And the once normalized Barbies are running back to their Kens. You turn, in the rays of the golden sun, you see Barbie. Her eyes hold glimmers of unshed tears. She wears her betrayal on her pink sleeve. "Why" she whispers as her fingers reach out to hover over your heart before she retracts them. You think you may have burned her. You think she's afraid of being plagued by your depravity.

You feel like a traitor, like a monster. A creature made of pink lipgloss and shattered vows. should Kendom fall, you know your delicate dream life will fall with it. You stare into her eyes. And the words that leave your mouth feel so rehearsed, yet you swear it's the first time you've uttered them. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you both when you went through hell. I'm sorry I wasn't there when the world collapsed and you ran from the debris. I'm sorry I can't help you pick up the pieces and rebuild what once was yours.., ours. I'm sorry I'm so selfish".

Immortal hearts are cursed with the loneliest beats. Maybe that's why the other Barbies never bothered to ponder their endless existence. Maybe that's why the Kens always clung to false promises of love. Maybe saying I love you is the same as saying I'm letting you go. Stereotypical Barbie has already reached this conclusion, you know this. For a fraction of a juncture, she looks into your eyes. Trying to reason and plea and hope all in the same breath. When you say nothing more her eyes shine with grief as she turns on her heels and runs for the hilled house. You reach out to her, yet only grasp the warm Malibu breeze.

What do you call a person such as yourself?

Coward...

That sounds about right.

Ken kisses your neck, and it feels like lava sprinkling along your skin. You feel like a defeated soldier drowning in a sea of guilt. Survivor's guilt a voice echo inside your head familiar yet all so distant. A ghost from a past life or a current one unseeable to you. "I have it too" the voice replies. You wonder if it's the voice of an angel or a mortal girl. You don't tell him about the Barbie resistance or how easily they can reverse the brainwashing. You work best alone anyway.

You hear the word death replay in the background as Ken bites a sensitive spot. A faint noise, a haunting whisper. You hear the word death and it sounds more familiar than the name Barbie that has rolled off your tongue every day since birth.

Ken harbors you inside the once was dreamhouse like a forbidden secret. Sometimes the skirts feel too short. Sometimes the world feels too heavy. You always feel the eyes of the other Kens on you. You think Ken planned it that way to show the Ken world who you belong to. Just last week he took you to the beach. Both of you wearing matching pastel blues and silver earrings. Other Ken was there also adorned in pastel blue and silver earrings. You see the twitch in your Ken's jaw, the icy glare when Other Ken waves to you. "Let's go," he says, commandes really. He throws you over his shoulder and you're heading back the way you came. "I really wanted to see Mermaid Barbie..." You pout. "No no, you wanted to see a movie remember?" Ken corrects you, to be honest, he does that often. You're starting to doubt you even know your own wants anymore.

Today Ken has you dressed in a pink and white dress. You remember Setrotypical Barbie use to love this dress. You run around the kitchen cooking a pretend dinner. You really want to go shipping, to pick out something you'd like. A rose pink Lolita skirt and a matching button-up. You really want to die. Although that's normal you always want to go shopping. You always want to die. You wonder if Ken will ever let you pick out your own dresses. You leave his plate in front of him as you loop your arms around his neck. You rest your chin on his head as he pulls you closer. Not picking your own clothes is a small price to pay for the intimacy you've craved for far too long.

"Never has there ever been a girl as pretty" Ken whispers as he relishes in your presence.

"Do you have any idea what you are?" He rasps, his lips hovering over yours. You're both sitting on the bed, watching the sun die for the day.

Ken is a monster. At least that's what you're supposed to think. You have something in your mind something that squirmes around in what can only be described as reason. To call it wits and a conscious would be an overstatement. Lucide is a better word. Weak and brittle yet somehow still standing. Deep inside, your heart refuses to call Ken anything other than hero, savior, salvation.

"I'm yours" it's the first truth that's left your mouth in a long long time. You cup his cheeks and kiss him with all the doom and gratitude that lies within you. And Wow Ken tastes like mint ice cream and shooting stars. Like dead dreams that lay on the tip of your tongue. He's the beach at night and the evermore gardens during the day. He's everything good and confusing and painful and sweet. Ken nibbles your ear, playfully, and coos sweet words into your soul. Spinning tales of how you'll be together forever. You soak in his presence, rolling his name around in your head. You keep your head filled with him before your own thoughts give you a heart attack.

You're Barbie but now you are so much more than that. You're his Barbie. Ken's Barbie. Damaged yet simultaneously perfect. And he's perfect too, mesmerizing when the sun's rouge rays kiss his pretty face, bathing him in golden ichor.

You wonder if perfection and imperfection have always been in love.

Sometimes in the dead of night, you think of the little girl playing with you. Albit she isn't a little girl anymore, is she? Kids grow up. clawing and biting through the painful transformation. Sometimes it leaves their minds fragmented. Sometimes it leaves them less than whole.

Judging by how long it's been, your little girl is grown up by now. You close your eyes and give Ken a final kiss before sleep overtakes you. You hope she's okay, even though you know that can never be true. Being "okay" doesn't seem to be a real thing in this universe.

Because girls are broken and the universe knows this

Because boys are broken and the universe knows this

Because the universe does nothing. Just sits there and watches as life bends and breaks itself over and over again

Barbieland is broken too, imperfect and destroyed.

And so are the two of you.

Yet in the end, it doesn't matter.

For as broken as the world is the most important of things has been resolved.

Ken has his Barbie.

And Barbie has her Ken.

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youryanderedaddy · 11 months ago

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yan prison guard who hates u but low-key wants to f??

YES?!

tw: female reader, hinted non-con, period cramps, physical neglect, abuse of power, hinted blood play, reader is hinted to be a criminal, starts flirty but ends dead dovey xD My Ko - fi <3

"Shit." You mumble, your back softly resting against the cold wall. You reach for the nearest utenstil on the ground - all metal now, since you broke one too many nice porcelain plates - and throw it against the bars with little consideration to the vomit inducing "food" still left inside. The yellow sauce splashes all over the floor, and you look up, not even bothering to hide your smug expression.

"I could make you lick that up, you know." Darcy states, adding little emotion to his already monotone voice - his eyes glued to the book in his lap and all the tiny little words in it, perfectly pristine fresh ink in the stuffy air. His gloved hands are digging into the paper, almost crumpling it, and you now know that his pale hands are simply incapable of holding anything gently - even the things he actually likes.

"Will you?" You tease, but the warning bells at the back of your mind go off nonetheless, seemingly in spite of your best attempts to come off as playful and not desperate. He rarely jokes around - not exactly the fun type. "I'll decide after I finish this page." Your warden chuckles humorlessly. "Those whom I love I rebuke and discipline." He starts reading aloud, licking his cold lips. "So be earnest..." You can feel his gaze on you, caging you in like a wild animal. "And repent." He finally closes the book. "Revelation 3:19." The blonde repeats quietly, turning his attention back to you - and you realise calling out was a mistake, but now it's too late. He's got you in his clutches.

"My stomach hurts. Tell me, Father Allmighty, is this devine punishment too?" You spit out sarcastically, hugging your knees in order to numb the pain a bit. "Or am I simply on my period?" It's your turn to giggle, although it hurts to do so - anything to mask the unease tugging at your vocal cords every time you're faced with that demon.

His eyes narrow in response, and his fingers circle his nose bridge as he scoffs at you, annoyance quickly spreading across his irritatingly handsome, yet equally sharp features.

"Your voice makes my head throb. Stop it." The guard barks, voice dropping low in warning. Still, you decide to push your luck due to pure and simple physical need. "But it hurts." You let yourself whine, slowly revealing your collarbone - and silently hoping that just this once the sweat will look like glitter. "I don't care." He hisses, picking his book again.

You roll your eyes.

"Alright. Sure. But you'll be the one cleaning the bloody sheets after." You mutter under your breath, crossing your hands. You're not sure what's more frustrating - the way your stomach is trying to eat itself or having to appease a narcissistic maniac with too much power and free time through it. Somewhere in the part of your brain still capable of rational thought you realize you should be provided with basic hygiene products just like all the other female prisoners. What makes you different, you guess, is the fact that you're kept under lock and key almost extensively. Solitary confinement 24 hours a day, except for Darcy.

He brings you food. He helps you bathe - if you've been good enough. He's the only one who knows if you're dead or alive. Hell, he may be the only one who even cares.

"I'm sure cleaning up your mess will be quite exciting." The blonde cracks a tiny, self evident smile only he knows the meaning of - and you would have frowned in disgust if you could still feel that lovely human emotion. "Admit it, you actually like the thought of me bleeding, you little freak." You scrunch your nose at him, then look back to the floor, the filth so thick it almost sticks to your slightly less dirty shoes. "Takes one to know one." Darcy responds nonchalantly, running his hand through his slick white locks.

At that moment the cramps return in full force, your lower abdomen on fire with sharp stabbing pain. You remember some fragmentary tips from your scrappy teen years - you close your eyes and breath in deeply, you bite the inside of your cheek - you even pray to whoever is listening, but it just won't stop. So you bargain.

"You can have it." You say with difficulty, folded in half. Hot tears prick your eyes and you try to fight them, but soon give into the agony. It's such a relief to cry after months of resilience - to break down completely and let your most vulnerable self out.

The warden takes a single steps towards the bars and motions for you to move closer. You crawl to him, your hand supporting your lower belly in the process. He takes a good look at you and slowly, almost gently caresses your face through the metal - eyes suddenly softened by the image of you dancing in the palm of his hand.

If it was anyone else he'd be simply repulsed by this clear display of weakness. If it was another prisoner, another hardened criminal, he'd have no problem following his own principles of zero tolerance - of crushing and breaking their spirit until nothing was left. But it was you and your beatiful, stipid tears that mesmerized him to no end, that haunted his dreams and turned his bloodlust into something a lot more sinister. Something harder to capture, harder to fight - and easier to give into.

"You can have it." You repeated tearfully, rubbing at your soft wet eyelids - completely still. Scared of your own flesh and its betrayal. "My mind, my body, anything. Just please give me some pills. I can't take it." You whimper pitifully, shaking under his watchful eyes. He's holding onto your cheek, but you feel like he's got you in a suffocating embrace. And then just when you're about to kneel down, he unlocks the door to your cell.

"I've been taking your brain apart for months now." Darcy whispers softly, taking off one of his gloves and letting it drop to the floor. He takes another step towards your cowering form. "Your body, on the other hand, is a white canvas." He tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his burning gaze - and the pain fades away instantly, replaced by raw, intense fear. "I wonder what your insides look like. Surely, they're beatiful."

You feel his lips on your neck, followed by the tip of a knife - a butterfly kiss.

#yandere #male yandere #yancore #male yandere x reader #yandere oneshot #yandere male x reader #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere warden #yandere prison guard

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furiousgoldfish · 10 months ago

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It gets scary when you are a child, and your parent tells you 'Nobody will ever love you like I do'. Because they already don't love you, you're aware that you are only barely tolerated, you're always seconds from getting yelled at or violated and humiliated. You don't feel loved.

And then what they're saying is that this is the most of love you'll ever get, that from now on, there's going to be even less love for you. You already missed out on any other form of love because this is it for you.

It makes you believe that you'll never be loved at all, that these scraps of attention mixed with aggression and pain is the best you'll ever have. That if you try to seek love outside of that, there's going to just be a whole world of nothing, empty.

It's exactly what they want you to think, but experiencing this as a child is terrifying. You already start to plan your life under the assumption that nobody will ever love you, that you're impossible to love, that even hoping for it makes you stupid. It makes you reluctant to form connections or to bond with people because you're now constantly aware and scared of the worst possible scenario, that you'll discover sooner or later that you're unlovable, that nobody truly will give you even as much attention as your abusive caretaker.

Even an adult would be broken by this. Putting a child trough this is inhumane. Your abusive parent doesn't want you to understand that what they're giving you is hatred, so they convince you that you live in a world where love for you cannot even exist.

And none of this is true, there is no difference between you and any other child, any other person who is currently loved and experiencing acceptance, safety and care. You are equally lovable as every other person on the planet, and only those who want to isolate you and drown you in despair can benefit from you believing otherwise.

#abusive parents #narcissistic parents #child abuse #emotional abuse #psychological abuse #isolation #escape sabotage #masking abuse as love #keeping a child in fear #and feeling unlovable #so they wouldn't be able to escape abuse

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ifangirlalot · 1 year ago

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˗ˏˋ 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐓 ˎˊ˗ | starring finn wolfhard

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

[𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘:] violent and dark themes, gore, kidnapping, murder, obsession, implied stalking

Please keep in mind that this is an AU. Nothing more, nothing less. Bear in mind that hate will not be taken lightly, and I WILL block you.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

❛ A is for Affection ༉‧₊˚

↳ How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Finn is weirdly gentle with the way he shows his affection for the most part. His touches are feather light, almost like he's afraid he'll break you. He likes touching your hair and your neck because he likes how soft you are. Aside from that, he also buys you plenty of gifts, usually in the form of small, dainty jewelry, like necklaces or earrings.

❛ B is for Blood ༉‧₊˚

↳ How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Finn isn't super big on gore and blood, he actually has a pretty weak stomach, so whenever he deems it necessary to resort to violence, he usually tries to keep things blood-free and easily cleaned up. He prefers psychological torture more than anything but if that isn't an option, he'll snap the necks of those he deems a threat.

❛ C is for Cruelty ༉‧₊˚

↳ How cruel would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

No. Finn wouldn't mock you. He'd be sympathetic for you and how scared you would be by the situation. He isn't oblivious to how fucked up it is, and he'd be sure to let you know that no harm will come to you, so long as you comply and be good.

❛ D is for Darling ༉‧₊˚

↳ Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling's will?

No. Honestly, abducting you in the first place was kind of pushing it for Finn. He's kind of going for a Beauty and the Beast type situation, where if he's nice to you and gives you everything you could ever want, you'll fall in love with him. He's self-aware and knows that this is a fucked up fantasy. He would never force his affections upon you. When he touches you, he is sure to keep his touch and kiss light so that you may push him away if you so desire.

❛ E is for Exposed ༉‧₊˚

↳ How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Finn practically bares his whole soul to you. He wants you to see him as a person rather than your captor. He regularly sits down with you and talks to you about his thoughts and feelings, about how sorry he is that he put you into this situation and that he hopes you understand that he's too far in to let you go now.

❛ F is for Fight ༉‧₊˚

↳ How would they feel if their darling fought back?

He'd understand. It would hurt his feelings immensely, but he would understand completely. He knows he's a bad person for keeping you against your will and trying to force a love connection between you, and some part of him even admires you for fighting him.

❛ G is for Game ༉‧₊˚

↳ Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

No, this is far from a game to Finn. He knows you regularly attempt to escape his grasp, and some part of him is regretful that he has to watch you so closely to thwart your plans. It makes him sad that his affections aren't working to make you love him, and he hates that you want so badly to leave him.

❛ H is for Hell ༉‧₊˚

↳ What is their darling's worst experience with them?

Since Finn isn't abusive, there haven't been many painful experiences for you in Finn's hold. By far the worst thing he's ever done to you is abduct/stalk you. What happened was, he saw you at his favorite record store and was immediately enamored by you. Something cracked within him. He crept behind you after you had left and followed you home, using the shadows from the night to his advantage. He felt so incredibly disgusting for doing so, but something inside of him was pushing him to do it. He spent weeks, months even, watching you. Absorbing your patterns. Learning your habits. Then one day, that crack within him snapped in half and he knew he had to have you. So one night while you were sleeping, he quietly slid your bedroom window open, chloroform-soaked handkerchief in hand. Slowly, so slowly, he pressed the cloth to your mouth and gave you a look filled with regret as he whispered, "I'm so sorry."

❛ I is for Ideals ༉‧₊˚

↳ What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Ideally, obviously, Finn would one day like you to realize you love him too. At the moment, that's as far as he's gotten, because he doesn't want to give his hopes up thinking about having a family with you when he isn't even sure you'll ever love him.

❛ J is for Jealousy ༉‧₊˚

↳ How do they handle jealousy? Do they lash out or do they find a way to cope?

Finn gets jealous quite easily, actually. Though, it isn't the lashing out, I'm so pissed I could murder someone type of jealous. At least, not super often. It's incredibly rare that he gets the angry type of jealous. Finn's jealousy is more along the lines of I'll never be good enough for you, it's pointless to hope you will ever love a monster like me type of jealous. His way of coping is just to love up to you, cuddling you, mostly just to make himself feel loved by you for at least a few moments, even if he knows he's delusional and that the cuddling is completely one sided.

❛ K is for Kisses ༉‧₊˚

↳ How do they kiss their darling?

Finn's kisses are, as said before, feather light. Practically whispers against your lips. His favorite way to kiss you is by slowly sliding his hands along your shoulders, neck, and to your cheeks. Then he'll slowly lean in and leave little butterflies kisses. He never full on kisses you with deep, forceful mannerisms, he feels that would freak you out.

❛ L is for Love Story ༉‧₊˚

↳ How do they meet their darling? How would they go about courting/pursuing their darling?

As stated above, Finn met you at the record store. Unfortunately, the idea of approaching you and asking to hang out didn't occur to him until after he'd already been stalking you for a couple weeks, which needless to say, made him question himself immensely.

❛ M is for Mask ༉‧₊˚

↳ Are their true colors drastically different when they're with their darling than when they are with everyone else?

Finn's personality isn't drastically different with you than with everyone else. He speaks to you like he would his friends, the only difference is he isn't keeping his friends captive in his apartment.

❛ N is for Nemesis ༉‧₊˚

↳ Who do they consider a rival?

He doesn't really have any one specific rival, he really just detests all the men in your life in general.

❛ O is for Obsession ༉‧₊˚

↳ Are they more obsessive or possessive?

Finn falls more on the obsessive side of the spectrum. He's not super possessive of you, but he does think about you near constantly. You rule over his every thought, he thinks about you whenever he does anything, even when it doesn't pertain to you.

❛ P is for Patience ༉‧₊˚

↳ How patient are they with their darling?

As you'd expect, Finn is incredibly patient. He wants nothing more than for you to love him, and he's afraid that if he's forceful or cruel to you, you will never love him. So, he lets you lash out at him, hit him when he comes too close to you, yell at him, demand him to let you go. He takes it all stoically, without a word and without anger.

❛ Q is for Quit ༉‧₊˚

↳ If their darling leaves, dies, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

If you were to die, or to leave and successfully escape, Finn would be devastated. Though the pain would be heavy enough to want to end his own life, he would never do so because in his mind, he doesn't deserve the sweet release of death. For he failed to keep his darling safe from harm, and to capture your heart. He would never get over you, and if he ever managed to, it would be years and years and years into the future. Most likely, his new darling would bare a heavy resemblence to you, because even if he moved on, he would never truly get over you and the affects you had upon him.

❛ R is for Regret ༉‧₊˚

↳ Would they ever feel guilty for abducting their darling? Would they ever let them go?

Finn feels guilty for kidnapping you all the time, he often toys with the idea of just letting you go and seeing if you will come back to him, but ultimately he never does. For one thing, he doesn't want to risk you leaving him and never returning. For another, he's scared you'll turn him in and he'll get arrested.

❛ S is for Stigma ༉‧₊˚

↳ What brought about this side of them?

Not even Finn himself is sure what brought it about. His past relationships were all fairly basic for the most part. He wasn't a bad boyfriend by any means, but he also wasn't a super protective one. But when he saw you.. something inside of him just broke. He wonders if maybe he had been like this all along, and that there was just something about you that brought it to the surface.

❛ T is for Tears ༉‧₊˚

↳ How do they feel about seeing their darling scream/cry/isolate themselves?

He hates it. It makes him feel awful. He is sad enough to let you know that he's here for you and loves and cares for you deeply, but respectful of you enough to keep his distance. He tries to make you feel better by leaving little gifts by your bed.

❛ U is for Unique ༉‧₊˚

↳ Do they do anything different that traditional yandere?

Finn isn't nearly as violent or possessive as yanderes typically are.

❛ V is for Vice ༉‧₊˚

↳ What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

His love for you and his regret at resorting to kidnapping. Your best chance at escape is to butter him up by kissing him, hugging him, sitting in his lap and pretending to love him back. Then he would be more comfortable with letting you leave, and then he'd practically be giving you permission to escape.

❛ W is for Wit's End ༉‧₊˚

↳ Would they ever hurt their darling?

Absolutely not. Finn would never raise a hand against you in any way.

❛ X is for Xoanon ༉‧₊˚

↳ How would they revere/worship their darling?

He worships you from a distance. Honestly, his reverance for you is almost unhealthy. He puts you on a pedestal and is utterly convinced that you could do no wrong.

❛ Y is for Yearn ༉‧₊˚

↳ How long do they pine for their darling before they snap?

For Finn, it took about six months of stalking/pining before he finally snapped and took you home.

❛ Z is for Zenith ༉‧₊˚

↳ Would they ever break their darling?

No. He doesn't even consider that an option.

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alice-after-dark · 6 months ago

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One Day I'll Do a Proper Ship Meme But for Now Here Have My Vox Agenda

Thoughts/headcanons/rambles under cut

TW for abusive StaticMoth and Vox having been a bitch to Sir Pentious.

Alastor/Vox - Do I really need to explain this one? Are you new here? I'll just direct you to search "radiostatic" on my blog. I̸͎̝͛́ ̷͙̲̊̄͐l̴̮̲̭̍͌͆ȏ̶̜v̵̞́̑͒̆e̷̡̡͉̰̍̽́ ̷̇͝ͅt̶̡̛̬̖͓̆h̴̠͎̞͕̑e̵͕̼̜̘͆̈́̃̔m̷̤̜̒

Valentino/Vox - Again, unless you're new here, you'll pretty much know my thoughts on them. Check out my "staticmoth" tag and you'll understand.

Charlie - I see so many parallels between these two and I desperately want them to officially interact in season 2. They're on completely opposite ends of the spectrum and aaaahhhhh I just want to see Vox's cynicism clashing with Charlie's idealism and it could be so good you guys. So good. I do also really like the idea of Charlie being the catalyst to Vox realizing just how much he's changed since arriving in Hell (like he used to enjoy the TV scene for the pure creativity of it and now that's all been replaced by the cold corporate greed).

Vaggie - Honestly, I just think it would be interesting. Also I really hope Vaggie doesn't have a carbon-copy reaction to him like she did Alastor. As I mentioned in a previous post, while yes, she might be cautious, she has less of a reason to be so hostile towards him. Plus their mutual dislike of Alastor would be a bonding moment, but also presents an opportunity for Vaggie to find out more about Alastor (albeit from a biased party).

Angel - I've brought up inklings of these two before, but I think them having a very complicated relationship due to their mutual connection and experiences with Valentino would be interesting, especially in regards to how they both handle it in similar yet different ways. They both bury their pain, Angel by leaning into the sexuality, drugs, and alcohol to forget how much he hates it and Vox by refusing to even acknowledge that he's in pain at all. And Vox's refusal to acknowledge it also makes him complicit in Angel's pain as well. He could do something, could try to stop it, but he doesn't to protect himself. I think seeing the two of them try to heal side by side, both from their issues with Valentino and the issues between each other, would be fascinating.

Husk - Knew each other from back when Vox and Alastor were still friends. Husk calls him "kid" (Vox was in his 30s when he died in the 1950s while Husk was in his 60s when he died in the 1970s) which annoys Vox as he doesn't think he's that much younger than Husk to warrant being called a kid. Vox knew him as an Overlord and was very shocked and kind of sad when he found out about Husk losing his soul to Alastor some time after their falling out (just one more thing to embitter him towards the Radio Demon).

Niffty - Anyone who has been on my blog when I started posting about Hazbin Hotel knows it started with these two. I think a dynamic between them would be fun and interesting to explore. Like Husk, she knew him from back when he was friends with Alastor. I like to think that Vox was literally there when Alastor brought her home with him ("What is that?" / "I'm calling her Niffty! Isn't she precious?" / "She is actively biting your arm." / "What a darling little thing!"). He was a little weirded out by her at first, but has since grown to care for her as much as Alastor does. Despite her size and lack of power, Vox fully trusts in her ability to take care of herself...he's seen things that can't be unseen.

Rosie - Vox definitely respects her for her ability to keep such tight control of a horde of bloodthirsty cannibals and actually turn them into a polite society. Despite not being very physically strong, her charisma and drive keep her on top and well respected. I like the idea that he met her through Alastor when they were still friends and though he hasn't really engaged with her too much since the fallout, he does still hold respect for her and frankly won't tolerate anyone disrespecting her. She is the only one outside of the Vees who knows about Vox practicing using his electrokinesis to heal.

Mimzy - They're not exactly friends, but she will not hesitate to approach him if she sees him. It's Mimzy so she absolutely expects special treatment. She's way more up front with him about wanting something than she is with Alastor simply because she knows Vox operates differently than the deer demon. If she wants something, she's gotta be prepared to pay up in some capacity, but Vox is usually willing to be flexible in terms of payment because she has her uses.

Sir Pentious - Okay, so I know this one is a bit awkward cause it would involve Vox actually apologizing to Sir Pentious for the cruel things he said and telling him to unalive himself, but I really think they'd be interesting. They're both innovators and creators and the two of them combining their skills would be both awesome and terrifying. I do think that Sir Pentious, while he does think all the Vees are incredible, idolizes Vox specifically for these exact reasons.

Velvette - They're both bitches, but they love the other for it. Can snark at each other for hours. They're the two who get shit done, even if Velvette can sometimes take her bitchsona a bit too far and Vox has to reign her in. Politics aren't her strong suit, but he can always count on her to take care of the business side of things.

Zestial - Based on my recent post about them, I like the idea that Vox has a respect for Zestial that he doesn't give to most other Overlords (Rosie being the other exception). Sure, he'll play nice and professional with them, but he doesn't truly respect them like he does Zestial and Rosie. I honestly see them having a mutual respect for each other (though Zestial wouldn't say he approves of Vox's choice in colleagues) and we do see in that Zestial can be a little sassy so I 100% believe if Vox had been present during the Overlord meeting in episode 3, Zestial literally would have ignored Velvette entirely to speak to Vox about the angel's death instead (and we all know how much Velvette would have just loved that).

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multifandumbmeg · 13 days ago

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How many times now have I said "I'm never opening Netflix again"? I love to just not take things too seriously and enjoy what I get when it comes to shows, all too often I've seen fans talk mad shit or abandon ship over perceived slights or minor infractions, but the past couple years I have been utterly gobsmacked by the egregious shit they have done. Incredible shows like Lockwood and Co getting cancelled after one season with zero explanation. Spin-off for Six of Crows being in massive demand, fucking stellar cast, COMPLETELY WRITTEN and then dropped. A multitude of multi-season shows taking a meteoric nosedive in writing quality that has me genuinely wondering, did they switch to AI for this?? Did they hire a wattoad teen from off the street??

Everyone's got their favorite cancelled show, but the recent trend of just absolutely sabotaging your most beloved shows on the way out instead of ending strong to keeping to ANY sort of character arcs or thematic consistency? Agonizingly heinous. If you saw my blog earlier this year you'll know how I felt about the final season of Umbrella Academy, one of the best shows the platform ever put out (viewers know. Not a soul was anything less than heartbroken, and it's rare to see universal opinions online) and today they crippled Outer Banks by writing off the most popular character- and in doing so the ship he was a part of- by killing him. A character once again (TUA reference, once again my fucking favorite ofc) who was abused in childhood, fucked over every moment in life until finally, finally having a chance at peace and then having it nonsensically ripped away for a completely devastating, unecessary, and thematically inappropriate to the show and arc reason. If they're trying to save their platform, they're sure as hell not gonna do it by annihilating every good thing they have.

And on a final note, the particular trend of taking abuse victim characters who have been nonstop shit on by life and then giving them equally tragic, miserable endings no matter what the earlier writers had clearly set up is so fucking disheartening, disrespectful, and dangerous. I can't recall one show they've put out that chose to tackle abuse, especially childhood abuse, that didn't end in a miserable person who was never able to meaningfully connect long term dying horribly. The message that sends to those of us who have actually experienced it- and are statistically prone to harming ourselves as a result- is that there is no hope. You are permanently broken. And sooner or later you will die a miserable death just like every moment you lived- there's no point. Why bother extending your suffering? Just get it over with. Meanwhile those responsible act like the response should be, "Oh yeah, and sad claps, how misfortunate. Just the way it goes I guess. We all love a good tragedy 😘". No. We don't. We are tired of it. We are exhausted. Society and reality fucking sucks right now, we don't need every single bit of media, regardless of tone or themes, to be "gritty" with its most vulnerable and beloved characters.

It's painful, it's personal, and it's not even a good business model! People love these characters BECAUSE we're rooting for them!! We want to see them win after all the suffering!! To remind us in our real lives it is possible, and life is worth it!!

#So fucking tired #And done with this shit #lockwood and co #outer banks #obx4 #Tua #the umbrella academy #tua season 4 #Tag your sabotaged favorite.

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laylaplease · 1 year ago

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Anakin x gn!reader | Smut | Minors DNI

Warnings — Gross bj, dubcon/noncon, degrading, rough dom Anakin, ownership, slapping, pain kink, praise kink, slight kink for Ani's mechno-arm.

Word count — 551

Notes — First time writing smut drabble, it's gross and I like it, maybe you'll find something for yourself in it too, XO.

"Open." Anakin hissed, his hand holding your chin harshly. SLAP "Open, slut." The pain across your left cheek from his metal palm made you gasp and with that, he stuffed your throat full.

Before you could stir away, his hands gripped your hair and pushed your head all the way down, forcing your lips to kiss his very base, his hair tickling the tip of your nose. "Maker." He hissed. Your teary eyes looked up his abdomen. He looked angelic. Frustration and sweat on his forehead glistening in the light, dirty locks sticking to his skin, eyebrows furrowed in delight. As pissed as you were about him forcing himself into you with no warning, you couldn`t help, but want to please him.

Luckily, you didn't even have to try; his fingers locked onto the roots of your hair, moving your head in painful motion, bruising the back of your throat, making your spit drip down his shaft as he slammed his hips into your face repeatedly.

"Good girl." He groaned, his voice low and raspy. The less you resisted, the better he treated your poor hole.

But You didn't want to be treated well now, did you?

You raised your hands up, pushing onto his clothed thighs, noticing his pants, that he had no time to strip, soaking from the mixture of your spit and his precum. Even if you actually wanted to break free, you couldn't, but it was fun to piss him off.

"Stop squirming." He hissed and grabbed your chin roughly, forcing you all the way down once again.

"Look at me."

You did, of course, setting the best pair of puppy eyes to gaze into his lust-clouded orbs while trying to ignore your body attempting to push his throbbing cock out of you.

"You belong to me. I will use you as I please. Got it?"

You blink your teary eyes twice in response, still looking at him with the same pathetic expression.

Anakin pulled his length out of you and kept your mouth open by digging his cold fingers into your cheeks. The relief on your tongue was bliss.

"Got it?" He repeated, his voice stern, making you believe that it's better not to mess with him. For now.

"Yes, sir." You managed to mumble while gasping for air.

Anakin looked at you with a satisfied, yet mocking grin as you hopelessly tried to gather enough oxygen for what was coming next. Both of you knew it wouldn't be enough no matter how much you struggled.

With no warning, he found himself stuffed back into your wet hole, forcing more tears out of your eyes, fluids mixing on your reddened cheeks. "That's it," He grunted, his eyes rolling back into his skull. "Such a cockslut."

His words made your insides twitch and you hoped that after he's done abusing your mouth, he wouldn't notice the dripping and inviting mess between your thighs.

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darkdevasofdestruction · 1 year ago

Text

You Are My Sunshine - Jack the Ripper/Jack Smith x Reader

"A coward dies a thousand times before his death, but the valiant... Taste of death but once." - Jack Smith.

There was no true middleground between social classes within the Victorian era, and in London, people could feel that suffering the most. The rich only got richer, while the poor starved to death. Women were hardly allowed to work any legal job, thus having to retort to prostitution, while children begged on the streets, in the freezing cold and rain, and men worked themselves to death in factories.

Somewhere, in one of the cheap rooms of a brothel, a prostitute gave birth for the first time, to a rather special child; A little baby boy, conceived with so much love, a precious little thing that would take the name of his father - Little baby Jack. Though he would live in great poverty, the only money to provide for him being the little coins his mother would get from her work - He was still happy. Not only did he have his mother's unlimited fountain of love for him, but he could also read the book left behind by his father upon conceiving him; It was a book of Shakespeare's most famous works, and little Jack loved reading them, to the point that he would take all of the more notable quotes to heart.

Precious little thing, so innocent, a glimmer of hope in the bleakest world that London was for him. He would go out daily, in his raggedy clothes, to find something to eat for him mum and him - And Anne too, if she wouldn't drink so much alcohol all the time. Every day, for so long, this child had to endure multiple beatings and degrading insults, all to survive; And he did it all with a smile on his face. All for his loving and caring mother, who chose HIM, of all the others of her children, to give birth to and raise! He was the fifth child she could have had, but she chose HIM! He truly as the luckiest boy!

In the back of a bakery, little Jack would often try to get the throw-away pastries and bread that would soon go stale and needed to be discarded; It was just trash, nobody needed it anymore, did they? Still, the chef was angry with him, and with his large, strong body, he would kick at Jack's small and frail little body with such malice that was inhumane. A monster. "You again?! This rubbish bin is MY restaurant's rubbish bin! Whether it's leftovers or scraps you want from it, you'll have to pay! And if you can't, then don't ever come back, you filthy rat!" poor boy was clutching his stomach from the exorbitant about of pain he was feeling; But it was fine, if he could get some food out of it, it was worth it.

"HALT!" the authoritarian voice of a girl resounded through the back alley, followed by the rhythmic sound of heeled footsteps approaching them. Jack dared look up to see who it was - A beautiful girl, radiating like the Sun, was standing tall and proud. She must be a nobleman, Jack thought with a soft blush, admiring that beautifully embroidered light blue dress, the rich leather boots and that pretty long hair done masterfully in ringlets, accessorised with a lovely bow. "You are a man, an adult of all things, yet you dare pick on a starving child? How pathetic are you?" the little lady scoffed, looking up at the man with disgust. "Why, you...! Who do you think you are?!" the chef was trembling with anger, ready to raise his fist. "I am a noble lady of high society. I should rather say - Who do YOU think you are, raising not only your voice, but your hand at me also? I could have your business in bankruptcy, if I so desired." she played the insufferable rich brat so well, it even surprised her. "Which would be a pity, considering I quite like the food from your restaurant. Alas, I cannot tolerate the chef being abusive towards the less fortunate. Perhaps I should tell the Queen to take away your Royal Warrant for good." "H-Hold on a second, little lady! Surely, we can negotiate a little? This boy is just a beggar! He has to pay if he wants to eat my food!" the man became stunned from the awfully condescending look in her eyes. "If you don't let the starving people eat the throw-aways and scraps, then you are letting the rats and all the vermin group around and infest this place. I could have this place shut by simply telling them I saw a rat in the restaurant - Who do you think they'll believe - You, a middleclass chef? Or me, the young heiress of Duke L/N?" she unfolded her lacey fan, cunningly covering half of her face. "If you offer the discarded food to those in need, however... I might reconsider your position in this tough industry."

At once, the chef ran inside the restaurant, only to soon return with a large box full of food, which he let fall in front of the boy. "There - Is that good enough?" The lady took out a golden coin from her pretty little blue purse, and she flicked it on the ground for the chef to scramble over it like a greedy man. "For now, yes. Keep up the charitable work, Chef." the lady looked away as the chef bowed and rushed inside the restaurant.

When he was finally gone, the lady let out a sigh of relief before snapping her fan close and giggling. She crouched down in front of the boy and smiled brightly, offering him her hand to help him stand up. "I hope this food is going to fill your belly for a while." "Ahh, My Lady, you're too gracious! You needn't bother with a sewer rat like me!" the poor boy didn't even dare look at her. "No, no, I won't have that. It's not your fault you were born under such circumstances. Everyone deserves a chance in life. Unfortunately, only few are born under a lucky star. Without money, privilege and status, there is little one can do to live a comfortable and modest life." she explained as she picked both of his hands in her small, delicate ones, helping him stand up. "Can you carry the food to where you stay?" the boy's beautiful smile and blush made her feel happy. "Yes, I'll be fine. You really... You're really too kind, My Lady. I don't deserve your kindness." suddenly, Jack felt his face being cupped gently, his silver hair being brushed away from his eyes. "I've never seen such pretty hair on a boy before. And your skin is so soft also. You even have heterochromia! See - One of your eyes is the colour of the soul, a calming blue like the azure sky; And the other is the colour of love, a gentle carmine like the heart that pumps blood inside our bodies. You are very unique and special." "I-... I don't know what to say, My Lady. I... I'm really happy... Only mum ever said anything so nice about me." the pink blush gracing his features made the girl giggle sweetly. "What is your name?" the girl asked, patting his hair. "Jack. My name is Jack." Y/N nodded at him. "What a pretty name you have, Jack." she praised. "My parents are waiting for me, so I can't stay around for too long. We are going to see a theater play, you see? They are playing Hamlet. Will I be seeing you around?" "Y-Yes, if you want to see me, I'll be around!" the little boy offered a bright, toothy grin. "Alright. I will be seeing you around, then." she nodded confidently. "Oh, before I forget - If you ever find the whole world going against you, then you pay look for me. My home is a little out of London, on a pretty hill next to the forest. Ask for Lady Y/N L/N. And give them this." she took off her necklace, placing it in his palm. "Well, I suppose you can sell it if you really want to. Anyway, I'll be seeing you around. Take care, Jack."

With a pretty wiggle of her fingers, the little Lady bid her farewell before unfolding the fan and gracefully waltzing out of the alleyway, back to her parents, while the boy could only stare in shock and awe at what just happened. He was left completely mesmerised and in love with Lady Y/N and the wonderful shade that her emotions radiated around her like a Godly aura. He's never seen such a brilliant shade of blue before, he wondered what it could mean.

As Y/N returned to her parents, she told them happily about her encounter with the young boy named Jack, and how pretty he was, even despite being in an unfortunate circumstance. Though her parents knew that the social standards of the noble class dictated who to marry and even fall in love with, they were content seeing such a glowing smile of happiness on their little girl's face. Perhaps this little boy, despite being from the very lowest class, could be a nice friend for her. Her father, most of all, knew how good it was to have street-smart men as his friends, when circumstances dictated a more shrewd plan.

Likewise, Jack ran quickly back to the brothel, showing his mum and Anne the bounty he brought home, telling them in great detail his encounter with the beautiful Missy who saved him from the Chef and threatened him into being charitable with the less fortunate. He even showed off the keepsake necklace she gave him, as a promise of reunion! He was so giddy and excited to see Lady Y/N again, that he wished to go sleep faster and wake up earlier, just so the time would fly faster and meet Lady Y/N already.

As promised, Y/N would take him on carriage rides and go to the park or on flower hills, just talking about random things. He especially enjoyed it when Y/N would bring literature books over and would read to him - On the few occasions that he knew the piece of literature, he would unconsciously find himself reciting the lines at the same time as she read them. It always made them smile so cutely at each other.

With this, Y/N even started baking some pastries and desserts for him, and he loved everything she made for him so much; Though even he has to admit, her famous Apple Pie was his favourite.

On a beautiful sunset, Y/N admitted that her favourite colour was blue - It was usually a colour associated with the emotion of sadness, but Y/N never once believed so. It's such a calming and gentle colour, how can anyone feel sad when seeing it? She simply could not accept such erroneous symbolism. Jack, on the other hand, said his favourite colour is yellow - The colour of happiness, the colour of the bright, warm Sun... And unknown to Y/N, the colour that Mother's love shone.

One day however, things changed; Jack learnt the truth of Mother's love. He experienced the most painful kind of betrayal, hearing your own mother cursing you and wishing you were never born. With tears and snot running in rivers down his face, Jack watched Gold turn to a marvelous purple of Fear as he killed his mother; And the very same purple he witnessed from his supposed father, Jack Smith.

Drenched in crimson and all alone, Jack knew he had to find a reason for living, and the means to do so - He couldn't beg his whole life. He was a gentleman, and he wanted to grow up and look the like also. He took out the necklace from inside his shirt and kissed it. He wondered if Y/N would still accept him, even after she sees him in this state.

Although skeptical, the guards allowed the boy to enter the manor, but was only allowed to meet Y/N's father - A pristine man, tall and with a respectable body, wearing a monocle and a rich suit. He was everything that Jack wanted to become. Upon seeing the boy, the Father asked what happened to him - Jack found himself tearing up, explaining his mum was killed and he ran away in fear. Poor boy, he lost even the little family that he had.

"Would you like to work for us, Jack? I'm sure Y/N would be very happy to see her friend every day." the silky moustache of the gentleman twitched upwards with his smile, and the boy couldn't help but blush deeply, nodding. "I-I would love nothing more, My Lord." Y/N's Father hummed gently, petting his hair before instructing the maids to care for the boy and show him the servants' room. He will be a great gardener's apprentice. Y/N loved flowers dearly.

Though the morning started bright early, Jack was excited to have such a great place to live at and work; He didn't get to see Y/N yet, but he was told the little lady of the manor enjoys reading whilst drinking her afternoon tea, in the flower garden. Excited, Jack, under the supervision of the elderly gardener, cut a few pretty flowers and rushed to where Y/N was enjoying her tea. He extended his hands towards her, handing her the flowers. "Good afternoon, Lady Y/N!" his smile was brighter than the Sun itself, and he looked so much more adorable now, properly cleaned up and wearing fresh clothes. "Jack!" Y/N's calming blue aura turned such a blindingly bright pink of a gentle hue, like the petals of a pink rose, that Jack felt overwhelmed with happiness - He didn't know what that colour meant, but he could easily tell it was a very positive one. She threw her arms around his neck and brought him in a tight hug, kissing his cheek. "I'm so happy to see you! Are you alright? Did something happen?" Jack simply smiled at her. "I'm the happiest I've ever been whenever I'm with you!"

From the proximity, the mother and father smiled, watching the two children interact so purely with each other. It was no farce, they cared for each other deeply. For quite a few years, Jack remained as a servant to Y/N's manor, and with the kindness of her parents, he was taught the same things that Y/N was - Although she was supposed to learn more feminine things, to become a proper Noble Lady that would one day marry and what not - They did indulge in her love for science and wish to become a doctor. It was a sad thought, not being allowed to study Medicine because no University allowed women. It was a sad reality they lived in. It mattered little that their sweet girl was brilliant - They'd much rather accept subpar men than an intelligent woman.

But her parents loved her far too much to ruin her dreams.

Jack grew older though, and he didn't want to leech off of Y/N and her family's kindness, so he decided to brave the world for himself; Y/N supported everything he did. They would send each other letters weekly and Jack would tell her of his new studies and work, until finally, he received his first salary and could afford to invite his pretty lady to a nice cup of tea and some cake at his favourite restaurant.

Now in their early twenties, Jack grew a moustache, though still small, yet stylish enough for a gentleman like him, and he bought some nice clothes for himself; He didn't want to embarrass Y/N when they'd go out.

This time though, Y/N's usual bright aura was a little dimmer; A myriad of colours there, some pretty some less so; That gorgeous soft pink was still there, over her heart, but that brilliant blue was faded. The majority of her spirit was taken over by the colour of deep sadness. "It really is silly, you know? A single woman was able to abuse the loophole in our University system, and they quickly shut that opportunity for the rest of us. Not fair, is it?" she sighed, stirring the tea absent-minded with the honey spoon. "It's their loss. You would have been a wonderful medic. The field needs someone with your brilliance." Jack comforted her in his gentle and refined tone. "Well... I suppose all I can do now is to continue studying as a hobby and see if I live long enough for an opportunity like this." the young man picked her small hand in his own, squeezing it tenderly before placing a small kiss on her fingers. "The world is constantly progressing, My Lady. I am sure, soon enough, such an opportunity will present itself soon. People like you deserve only the best in life." he couldn't help but gaze in awe as that sadness was quickly overpowered by that lovely pink, every time he spoke sweet words to her. Could this emotion be...? Could it, really? "I dearly hope so, Jackie."

And sure enough, it did happen, once the London Royal Free Hospital School of Medicine was the first to accept women to study and practice medicine in their classrooms and hospital words - It became the first School of Medicine for Women. Y/N was the happiest she's ever been, and her aura looked like the most gorgeous Sunset, with the pink of love and the gold of deep happiness, and a blue of pride and content. She was so happy, in fact, that she celebrated with Jack and her parents at one of the most expensive restaurants in London.

Every time they would meet, she was overwhelmingly beautiful, and Jack couldn't contain his love for her any longer. "I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest!" he quoted Shakespeare to her, as they walked through the flower gardens of her home. For once, it was time for her to have her porcelain cheeks all warm and flustered, as they looked at each other, the gentle light of the golden hour caressing them. "I may not have status, nor wealth, but my bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite." Y/N felt breathless as so deeply in love; If only their beautiful love story won't turn the same way as that of Romeo and Juliet. "Oh, Jack. I've loved you since the day I first met you, when we were children. There is no one else other than you that I would wish to spend my life with." and her parents hoped to have Jack as a groom, for there was no one alive that could love and cherish their little girl the way Jack did.

All was well, and Y/N was experiencing pure bliss; Not only was her love life perfect, but her studies were excellent. But with practicing in the hospital, came returning home at late hours into the night, and everyone knew how unsafe the streets of London could be, especially for young women, let alone beautiful and rich like Y/N. Come 1888, a serial killer began terrorizing London, massacring poor women who worked in the sex industry. He wasn't just killing them - He was mutilating them, expertly removing their wombs, and when his sick fantasies were done, he'd discard them on the ground, with their legs open for all to see their shame. By November, already five women were murdered, and for the first time, Jack could see not only the deep Purple Fear taking over his lover's aura, but her unsettling was visible on her face and demeanour also.

"This is horrible, absolutely horrible!" Y/N moaned in distress. "How could one man be so cruel as to torture someone like this - Five someones, no less!" the woman sighed, sipping on her calming tea. Thankfully, Miss Alice, one of their favourite bakery's employee, came over with their apple pie. Jack's reaction was so childlike and pure that Y/N felt a little more at ease. "Jack the Ripper is at it again, huh... How scary." Alice agreed with Y/N. "Present fears are less than horrible imaginings. It's from Macbeth, by William Shakespeare. Monsters created by the human imagination are often scarier than the real ones. If we found out his true identity, Jack the Ripper may turn out not to be that big of a deal, hm?" Jack smiled gently at Alice. "Oh, that makes sense." she nodded, before being distracted by two journalists working on the Jack the Ripper case, on the table nearby, who ran away quickly to continue their work.

From the opposite side of the street, the trio watched as a young lady selling newspapers was shamelessly pushed aside, causing her to fall to the ground, dropping one of the papers in a small puddle of water, ruining half of it. Her distress was great - She would be losing her money, instead of earning some. But Jack went over to her, and smiled tenderly, offering her a coin for the paper, before returning to his coffee. He knew what it was like, starving and needing to do anything to survive - Now that he could afford a better life, he tried to help anyone who deserved, like this Miss Sophie.

"That girl... Her name is Sophie. She recently lost her mother, and because her father is a drunkard who refuses to work hard, she now does all sorts of jobs in order to support her little brother." Y/N couldn't help but look at her with a saddened look. "Is there no way we can help her?" she found herself whispering. "By the way, you're a kind person. You bought the same newspaper as the one you were just reading." Alice smiled proudly at Jack. Jack simply looked down, hiding his smile. "I just felt... Like reading the same newspaper again." he demurely replied. "Oh no, it's getting late. Forgive me, Jack, my classes are starting soon. I will be coming home late tonight, so please don't wait for me." she rushed up on her feet, planting a sweet kiss on his cheek. "I hope you sleep well tonight." "I hope you have an easy day at the hospital today, my darling." Jack blushed softly, smiling back and waving her goodbye, watching as she rushed for the nearest carriage. "You are one lucky man, Mr. She's quite the lovely lady." Alice giggled at him. "Yes, I truly am lucky."

That night, Y/N wasn't going to be so lucky one night, when she left the hospital at such a late hour into the night, on a rather chilly night. Y/N kept a shawl over her head, terrified out of her mind and continuing to sing a little tune in her head, a lullaby that her mother always sang her. It never failed to give her some courage, even when she was petrified with fear. So was now, as she rushed down the cobbled alleys of London.

You are my sunshine My only sunshine You make me happy When skies are gray You'll never know, dear How much I love you Please don't take My sunshine away

Her heart trembled, repeating that lullaby over and over again - Until she got called by a man's voice. She gulped. "Oi, missy." she could feel his terrifying breath on the back of her neck. "How much?" "H-How much wh-what?" her body was frozen with fear; The man could easily run her down and overpower her if he wanted to. "How much do you sell your filthy whore body for?"

Y/N couldn't even scream for help as the stranger slammed a chloroform napkin over her nose, holding an iron grip on her body. She couldn't even struggle, he was far too strong for her. "Gah, whenever a dirty little slut like you is near me, my whole body gets incredibly itchy." Y/N felt her vision warping and her body growing progressively lax. "There's nothing to be afraid of. I'll help you. I'll set your soul free from that disgusting body of yours, so that you can go to heaven..."

No matter how much she prayed to be rescued by Jack or her parents, her consciousness faded, and she was left a prey to Jack the Ripper. The culprit dragged her to his home, stripping her naked and placing her on a wooden table in his work room. The walls were plastered with tens and tens of perverted pictures of the women he mutilated over the years. The killer was humming a little tune as he prepared his utensils and camera, ready to rip her to shreds so that the world can see her for the whore she truly is. "I will cleanse you from your sins. I will cleanse this whole world, on God's behalf." he grinned wickedly, gazing upon the face of the woman afflicted by a deep sleep. "But you Gods, will give us some faults to make us men." the killer immediately turned to the intruder, threatening him with a knife. "However... From those faults, ultimate tragedy is born. It's rather ironic." Jack hummed softly. "Don't come any closer! Just what the hell are you doing in another person's apartment?!" the journalist turned killer, Luke Evans, shouted at him. "What am I doing? I'm here to bring my soon-to-be wife at home, you see. I feared she might run into danger when returning from the hospital, and I wished to walk her back to safety. Alas, you caused her great distress and even endangered her life. That, I cannot forgive."

Luke simply grinned wickedly at Jack, threatening to kill him - He knows who he truly is, so he must be eliminated. He was pretty good with a knife, no wonder, considering how many people he killed. Jack would be the first man he disposes of - Or so he'd wish.

"The colour of the emotions that this eye can see... They are works of art that only I can create." Jack smiled, pointing at his crimson left eye. "Such magnificent malice." his smile turned into a mad hatter grin, watching the blood dripping from his piano wire after slicing off the journalist's arm clean. As he attempted to run, Jack threw two of his own scalpels into the back of his shins, causing him to topple over on the ground.

Jack watched as the killer slumped on the ground, his back against the wall; And he sat on his lap, cradling his face. "There are two things on earth, more beautiful than anything. One, is the sunset colour of pure love that my darling Y/N has whenever she looks at me..." Jack huffed in amusement. "And the other... It's that moment when all other emotions are overtaken and dyed in the colour of fear." he grinned impishly. "Anger. Envy. Hate. Disdain. Arrogance. All this time I've been looking for a person who had nothing but filthy emotions residing within them - And you were superb. Now let me see it, Jack the Ripper." he placed the tip of a small knife in the middle of his forehead. "Now please try to imagine how this knife penetrates deeply... Into that brain of yours." not Luke's shrieks, nor his sobbing and tears could stop Jack from slowly pushing the blade deep inside his skull, until he was reduced to nothing but a blinding purple of Fear, and then death. "EXCELLENT! WHAT A NICE COLOUR!"

Jack's delight was great, but now that Jack the Ripper was dead, he had to get his darling Y/N out of this hell. He gazed upon her, laying there, on the wooden table, covered by a single filthy sheet - What a disgusting wretch, attempting to soil her, even daring to associate her pureness and innocence with that of a whore - As though those poor women were selling their bodies because they wanted to, not out of need of survival. "My darling, I have failed you. Forgive me." though it felt awful, looking upon her gorgeous body, untouched by any man - He had to dress her back in her pretty clothes and return home. Somewhere on the table though, he found all of Luke's savings, and he grinned. He wrote a quick letter to Miss Sophie, and was ready to make an Anonymous donation.

Jack held Y/N up in his arms like a princess before setting the apartment aflame, along with all of the evidence of the murder... Or the identity of the serial killer. "London bridge is burning down... Burning down, burning down. London bridge is burning down... My Fair Lady." he hummed as he casually walked through the busy streets of London, and towards the manor.

The man felt a bit of stirring in his strong arms, and he smiled; Y/N was awaking. She fluttered her beautiful eyes open, only to squeal and attempt to struggle away.

You are my sunshine My only sunshine You make me happy When skies are gray You'll never know, dear How much I love you Please don't take My sunshine away

That lullaby... That voice... "Jack?!" she calmed down as she looked up at his smile. "Wh-What happened?" "I went over to the hospital to walk you home, but by the time I arrived, you were asleep in a chair. Must have been a pretty exhausting night, hm? Don't worry, my sweetling. I got Alice's famous Apple Pie with Cheddar Cheese, and the sweetest tea, just for you. You can sleep after you ate a little." Jack reassured her, speaking in the gentlest voice he could muster. "R-Really? I fell asleep? Oh, Jack, I'm so sorry, you should have woke me up! You didn't have to carry me so long, your arms must be killing you!" the man smiled at her adorable worrying, shaking his head. "A gentleman always takes care of his darling Lady." he hummed proudly. "You're always safe with me." "Oh, Jack." she threw her arms around his neck, nuzzling her face in his shoulder. "I just had the most awful dream. The whole thing with Jack the Ripper must have truly scared me half to death." she was clearly still in distress. Hopefully, for as long as she thinks it was just a dream, she can rest easy. "I dreamt that I was walking home from the hospital, and this guy kidnapped me and tried to kill me. It was awful, so awful." "I kiss thee with a most constant heart." Jack pulled his lady into a sweet kiss, shifting her mind away from such a nightmare. “A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee.” "If this is your way of telling me not to worry, then I love it." she giggled so adorably, that Jack could see not a single trace of that fearful purple anywhere. What a success.

And as promised, he returned her home, placing her on her bed and allowing her time to change in her sleeping wear as he brought over that famous apple pie and brewed her tea. Though it was already around afternoon, he was content with just laying in bed next to her, holding her close to his chest and soothing her mind, caressing her hair. She looked so peaceful, sleeping like that. So beautiful, so innocent, glowing a wonderous blue, content and calm.

Come the next afternoon, Jack brought Y/N over to the flower garden, her favourite place; As the Sun began to set, and the sky's colours mimicked Y/N's beautiful emotions, the silver haired man fell on one knee. “I would not wish any companion in the world but you. I do love nothing in the world so well as you - is not that strange? Nay, for love comforteth like sunshine after rain. Thee will I love, and with thee lead my life.” he took out a velvety box, revealing a beautiful ring, golden, with a pink gem, symbolising the gentle colour of the love they shared. "Y/N, my darling, you are my most beloved sunshine, in this bleak, grey world. Will you marry me?" Y/N felt tears streaming down her cheeks as she squealed a loud 'Yes!' and threw herself into his arms. "I love you so much, Jack. There's no one else I'd want to live my life with, but you."

With one true love's kiss, Jack and Y/N sealed their eternal love for each other; Her parents were just as happy for them, completely ignoring the scrutiny and scolding from the other nobles for not marrying their daughter for political reasons. Their wedding was small and intimate, not wanting to involve the whole damn high society and have their perfect moment ruined by the gossips of those jerks.

Life couldn't be better for them; Truly, two souls bound for eternity, in life and above, were to be forever happy...

Though just like the tale of Romeo and Juliet, no love is eternal. Y/N's parents might have allowed them to marry, but life did not allowed them a long life of joy. No matter how much Jack wanted to shield his darling wife from the knowledge of his secret identity, an assassin for the Government, taking down whatever big guy might terrorise the underground... The way he killed Jack the Ripper, the way he took down a cannibal knight who ate children, and a terrorist organisation naming themselves Mother Goose...

Alas, these last ones not only almost killed him by blowing up the bridge he was standing on... But they did the unthinkable. As Jack returned to Y/N's manor one evening, giddy to gift her the pretty fan he found in a new fashion store that opened on the main street, he saw a large fire up the hill. Though horrified, Jack rushed up the hill and to the manor, yelling Y/N's name desperately, but no one answered. He could barely see, his eyes blurred with tears from the stinging smoke and the scared tears. He foolishly burst inside the burning mansion, searching for Y/N and her parents. They were all lying on the ground, dead, in a pool of their own blood. The poor man had to drag their bodies outside, all by himself, though Y/N's he held on, sobbing as he held onto her tightly, his tears raining down on her.

Why? Just, why? Why her? Why them? Y/N and her family were known to be the kindest of the noble families, so why would anyone want them death? It wasn't fair; Why were the most beautiful souls the ones ripped away from existence so cruelly? Why was he not allowed any lasting happiness? What did he do wrong in this life, or before even being born, that he remained so unfortunate, and continued to bring misfortune to everyone he encountered? His mother, his father, Anne, Y/N, even that little lady Sophie from whom he just bought a newspaper and sent some money. None were safe from him.

“When you depart from me, sorrow abides and happiness takes his leave.” were his last words to his wife, the last thing he had in her memory being the necklace she gifted him as children.

When he died, or how, none cared, for Mr. Anonymous was no one; He was just a ghost, a phantasm, wandering about aimlessly, barely surviving, all alone in the world, with the only comfort to caress his heart being the criminals he killed, and the perverted satisfaction he got out of seeing that magnificent shade of purple that only the fear overwhelming them could create.

When next he woke up, he was in a gazebo, drinking tea, and a lady named Brunhilde spoke to him. He was to become one of Humanity's fighters in this fight for mankind's survival - Ragnarok, the fight between Gods and Humans. She explained how he can only hurt a God with the aid of Divine Treasure weapons and what not; Though, when asked how to address him, he simply smiled.

Jack the Ripper, the famous Prostitute Killer.

Yeah, that name suited him well enough.

He will be battling in the fourth round against the mighty Heracles, who graciously agreed to transform the arena into a perfect mimicry of London, and with the aid of the little Valkyrie lady, Hlokk, he had every chance to win - If he played his cards right. He only wondered what Y/N might think, if she were to see him under the alias of Jack the Ripper, the man who almost killed her. Fairly speaking, because of his involvement with Mother Goose, he DID end up indirectly causing her death, and for that, he is eternally regretful.

The whole lot of humanity was not only confused, but enraged also - Why would they send the scummiest vermin to ever walk the earth to represent them in a fight? His Godly opponent also was disgusted, seeing that he had to fight not a respectable, honorable warrior, but... A bloodthirsty serial killer who ripped the lives of so many innocent women.

"Jack...!" though he couldn't hear through his fight, someone was shocked to see the love of her life having taken the alias of a disgusting killer, along with such witty tricks which he came up with on the go, constantly lying about his weapon, using piano wires along with countless knives, deceiving the God and so much more. But this Heracles was a resilient powerhouse, and when he expected least, Jack got his precious monocle destroyed. Ahh, this monocle he had was to honour the legacy of his dear father-in-law, what a shame. Now the whole world had to see his crimson eye, and that perverted love for colourful emotions he had.

Y/N only stared at the man before her, surprised to see his true character unfold; In a way, he was a complete other person - But in other ways, he was the same Jack Smith he knew. How confusing. Still, she was going to root and cheer for the man she loved, for her heart would clench in sheer terror whenever he'd get hurt, same as when he climbed up the Big Ben clock, only to make the whole building collapse on the God. What an insanely shrewd scheme, yet it didn't yet defeat Heracles.

Finally, Jack was forced to admit, the true Divine weapons was never any of the things he threw at him, but his own gloves - Practically speaking, the whole arena became a weapon to kill a God. Heracles, through this fight, figured out that his human opponent can, weirdly enough, see the colours of people's emotions - He was so flattered that he blushed, that Jack! "The colours of emotions that I can see are works of art that only I can create!" he declared blissfully. He spoke not only of the beauty that his wife's love for him was, but also, the excellent shade of purple that only sheer fear could generate. "You... Have lost." Heracles declared boldly, calling him out for giving into despair, allowing himself to succumb to the hedonistic pleasures of killing. For the first time, Jack could see such a pure colour of a remarkable Gold, like the Sun. Heracles loved humans so much, even despite their flaws and foolishness. He only ever wanted to bring them on the right path, to save them. He loved humans with all his heart.

This emotion... This sunset of colours... Jack never even dreamt that he would see it again! The colour of his darling Y/N! Right in front of him, in the guise of his opponent! "Jack the Ripper - I will save you from your suffering!" with such a bold statement, Heracles called forth the Hounds of Hades; High gamble, high risk, high reward - Though no matter how sneaky Jack was, not even he was safe from the God's mighty hits, and he received a powerful punch to the face. He tried to run away, using the grappling hook, but mid-jump he got punched away by the God, and he fell to the ground, impaling his torso into the metal fence underneath.

"JACK!" his pain was unbearable, but her had to fight through the agony - With a groan, he managed to rip away the metal bar from his body, panting in exhaustion. "JACK, DON'T GIVE UP! YOU CAN DO IT!" what a familiar voice - Was he hallucinating? It couldn't be, could it? His sweet Y/N couldn't be there, watching him die for her, can she? She should see him in such a state, nor should she witness the atrocious trickery he was capable of, bringing down the whole damn building to crush the God.

Heracles' colour remained the same through all this, and though it amused Jack, his body burnt with agony. "Ahh, forgive me - I just missed seeing this colour so much! The colour of true love! I missed it so much since my wife died!" he grinned, using his own blood to paint it even wider. "Forgive me, but I'm going to change your colour!" "Just you try! Just you try to change my colour!" Heracles provoked him. "Yes... Let us create the ultimate finale!" Jack theatrically called out; They engaged in a ferocious hand to hand combat, and though Heracles was missing the arm that Jack cut off, he was doing just fine punching away at the human's frail body, sending him flying away, rolling pitifully onto the ground.

"JACK, GET UP! DON'T GIVE UP! YOU CAN DO IT!" is that truly Y/N? She was the only person that would ever cheer on him, right? If she was there, he had to fight. He had to win. From his blind spot, Jack created a diversion, using the pole he was impaled with to hit away at the God's face - He got roughly punched to the ground, and he wasn't moving. Damn, that was really painful.

"We should have never entrusted humanity on that scum of the earth." one of the humans in the stands spat. "I don't see YOU fighting for mankind!" Y/N hissed at him. A woman next to her, drinking heavily from a large bottle, also seemed to sneer at them. "Why don't you go and fight the Gods, then? Think you can do any better?" she held a worried look on her face. "That boy went to fight them, all on his own." "Miss, do you know Jack?" Y/N looked at her with wonder. Anne nodded, looking at him with pity. "Yes. He was a doomed child, birthed at my brothel by one of the prostitutes there. The only reason she didn't abort him like the others was a silly promise with some script-writer named Jack Smith who promised to marry her one day. Silly woman, falling prey to nonsense promises from lecherous men." Y/N stared in shock at the worried woman, though now, some things were beginning to make some sense. "He was the one who killed his parents, didn't he?" Anne nodded slowly. "But he's not Jack the Ripper, I can reassure you of that!" Y/N declared boldly. "I know this because my parents took him in, and we grew up together. We even married at some point. And when Jack the Ripper was at large..." Y/N gulped, remembering that awful nightmare. It was definitely a reality. "It was our Jack who saved me from the real Jack the Ripper." she spoke softly. "It doesn't matter if Jack never really had a real name, or if he just wanted to take the piss out of people by invoking a serial killer's name as an alias. I know my husband, and he'd never hurt any innocent person! My husband has a good heart, and he's the sweetest man in the world! I have faith in him, so Lady, please, cheer on him with me." Anne stared at the younger one with deep shock, only to end up grinning and pulling her into her side. "What a lucky boy, finding a catch like you. I'm sure our little boy was truly happy with you."

With both Anne and Y/N calling out his name, cheering on him, Jack was able to smile, dragging himself up on his feet. "London Bridge is broken down. Broken down, broken down... My fair lady..." he hummed weakly, looking up at the night sky. With difficulty, he managed to drag himself in front of the God again, reaching to attack with his metal pole, only to get punched down to the ground. Finally, the opportunity arose, and Jack, with his hands covered in his own blood, he was able to use his own crimson life essence to impale his hands into the God's body, bringing forth his death. "Dear... God... That is the name of this technique." Jack smiled weakly. "I dedicated it to you." "You've been very impressive throughout this whole fight." Heracles' praise shocked the human. "What is the colour of my heart now? Has it changed?" Jack smiled dearly. "No. I have lost." the God's colour was truly magnificent, even in his last moments. "I will never change. Don't forget it. At all times I..." Heracles embraced Jack. "Will love humans." "O God, what a truly stubborn person you are." Jack's voice was filled with love as he watched the smiling God shattering before his eyes. "That was a fantastic fight. I'm sorry I shouted at you." Heracles was no more.

With Jack the Ripper being declared the winner of the fourth match, the little Valkyrie lady returned to her humanoid body. Though she remained a little guarded around him, with their souls bound, she now understood him better... But Jack had no better understanding of the emotions he was feeling after killing Heracles. "You can't even show sadness at such a sad time, can you? You really are a pitiable person." she declared, only to realise she was drenched in blood and desperately needed a shower. As she flew away, she warned him to rush to the infirmary, his injuries were bad enough.

With every step he took towards the exit of the arena, and even when he struggled to pick his hat on the ground, he could only think of the only two people who ever truly loved him, who ever truly cared for him at all. His mother's love was fake, he hated that pretended colour - But Y/N, Heracles... Never before has he met anyone as genuine as them. "If I could have any wish granted... I would wish to see you two again." he fell on his knees, his body failing him from the arduous fight he just had, though as he tried to stand up, he was hit in the head with a rock, making him bleed. Not only the Gods, but the humans also, were throwing rocks at him, cursing him for winning, for killing their beloved Heracles.

What appears beautiful, is filth, someone said.

"Hang in there, Jack!" out of nowhere, half of his wish came true, as he watched the silhouette of his most beloved person running at him. She rushed to throw her arms around him, but he couldn't hold back the groan of agony from his sustained injuries. "Damn, I'm so stupid - Forgive me, I forgot about your wounds. Come on, let's get you treated. I heard the doctors here can do magic that no human can, when it comes to healing." she put his arm around her shoulder, helping him walk. As more rocks were flung their way, Y/N's mother, father, and even Anne came over to defend them, opening parasols. "Silly man. Taking on the alias of one of the most hated men in the world. What was in your head, anyway?" she scolded him lightly. "Ahh, no matter, I'm just so happy you're alive." she leaned up to kiss his cheek. "My dear sunshine." Jack smiled, allowing himself to be taken to the infirmary. The medics took care of him, and when he was bandaged up and ready to go, he left the hospital wing. Y/N was waiting right outside, all alone.

With no words spoken, Y/N guided him to the kitchen where she brewed some tea for him. It was just like old times, when they'd have afternoon tea together. How nostalgic. "Aren't you mad at me for lying to you? Or for getting you killed?" "Nope." she popped casually. "For starters, I have no memory of the time of my death, so that matters naught to me. Even if through some circumstances, I was implicated and killed because of your envolvement in something, it's null. Secondly - I know the man I married. I know you tried to make me believe being kidnapped by Jack the Ripper was just a nightmare. And I know your real name isn't even Jack Smith." she smiled at his flabbergast expression. "But none of that matters to me. I fell in love with you, not any identity you chose to use at each moment of your life." "I don't deserve your love and kindness." Jack's comment only made her scoff at him. "This sounds like our first conversation, as children. Let's not have a repeat of that." she huffed. "Anyway, I was wondering - What colours do I have? And do you like them?" Jack smiled, a soft blush covering his cheeks as he held Y/N's hands, kissing them. "My darling, though you are my shining sunshine, the colours of your pure care for me burn bright like the sunset sky, and your gentle love is as delicate as the gem of your ring."

#record of ragnarok imagine #record of ragnarok x reader #record of ragnarok #ror #ror x reader #ror imagine #jack the ripper x reader #jack the ripper imagine #jack the ripper #hack the ripper ror #ror jack the ripper

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wastemee · 2 months ago

Text

she walks over me .

abusive!fem user + leon k.

CONTENT WARNING ! abuse , fem reader , reader is terrible (surprise) , re2 Leon k. , dub con

Leon is a goddamn idiot for still being with you. You're terrible , just in general. He wishes all of his friends and family could see past your white teeth and big smile when you're both together, to pull back the layers of your skin and see that you're the spawn of Satan himself. Sometimes he prays to whatever God is up there , and hopes you'll fuck up and he'll be saved. But God never answers his desperate pleas and broken cries. His family has always had a bad feeling about you , from the moment you stepped into their home for the first time to introduce yourself.

"She's too nice," his foster mother would say when she pulled him to the side as you put away dishes. "I have a bad feeling about her." his foster daddy would whisper to his mother under his hot breath. And God, they couldn't have been more right. Whatever they said about women's intuition , was 100% true. Maybe 105%.

Leon has always been way too naive for his own good , thats why you came along! He swears that you came straight out of heaven , wings and halo as you sweep him up into your clutches. Until everything went downhill. You never really know someone until they get into hot water. They jump out.

He doesn't even remember what he did or said , all he can remember is that familiar sting of both failure and actual pain on his cheek. You hit him. Like , actually just used your hand to hurt him. He blinks at you with his big , wide blue eyes , lips parted in horror. He wish he could've been a bigger man and stepped up to you , but he shrunk under your judgemental gaze. He was in this whole funky mood until you finally apologized to him , which took a whole lot of begging and crying.

He hated when you were upset with him , and he hated your cold shoulder even more. It made him feel like he was getting hit by a semi truck. Except the semi truck would probably hurt less. What he did love though , was seeing your expression soften and your hand fall. "Aww , babe," you would coo to him , slowly holding out your arms to hug him in a sickenly sweet way. He would flinch , even if you were being 'nice' to him. But you being nice was really just you barely tolerating him. And just like a moth to a bright light on a porch , he fell straight into your arms like a limp body , straight into what is slowly killing him.

He gripped you like you were going to dissolve into thin air if he let you go , shaking his head and crying to you all over again. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he would sob , voice cracking and his doe eyes red with ugly tears. Just like clockwork , you would make up some bullshit excuse in some way to excuse your horrible behavior. "You know I had a bad day," was a frequent one. Or , "I just didn't get enough sleep." Holy shit , that was a doozy. "It's not you , baby , it's me." Now that , was a low blow. He believed it every time.

He's become numb now , almost. Numb to the painful sting of your backhand , or the painful kick to his stomach when he's already down , and the way his heart rate spikes when you send a pan flying towards his head because he slipped up.

He doesn't know why he's so attracted to you. Is it because his actual mom was killed and he desperately needs some affection from a woman before he withers out and dies?

You're both attending a small little party his parents are hosting , and just like you've beat him into , he's all smiles and laughs.

"So," his mother starts off , smiling at you over the rim of her wine. "How's your job?" She asks you , raising a thin eyebrow at you and wiping her smeared lipstick off of her cup with a napkin. You smile with all of your teeth , squeezing Leon's hand behind his back. "Amazing , Laura. I just got a promotion , more money coming in." You respond with an equally enthusiastic tone. Laura nods in acknowledgement , swirling around the wine in her cup.

What a damn diva , your inner voice mutters.

Leon is just staring at both of his 'parents' , his smile faltering as he spaces out of the conversation. It's a talent , really. The way he can remove himself , whether it be when you're screaming at him, or the more calm moments like this one.

He's brought back down to earth by your harsh squeeze on his hand , your smile falling for a second as you tug harshly on his arm. "Leon." His name doesn't even sound like his own whenever you say it. Sometimes he feels like he's watching his life go on in third person , like you killed the old him and stuffed a part of you inside of his body , creating some new fucked up Leon Scott Kennedy. He blinks in shock , he's still here. Here with you. "Huh?" He mutters , inhaling sharply at the squeeze of his hand.

"Your mother's talking to you , don't be rude." You scold lightly. There it goes , that little mother in you. Once again , he feels small. Like a little boy being scolded by mommy for breaking a vase. He winces at your tone and he notices how his mother furrows her neat brows , thin lips parted in some confusion.

"He hasn't been feeling well , lately.." You sigh , lips jutted out into a slight pout as you press a quick kiss to his cheek. Your lips burn on his skin , like a punch. He clears his throat and nods. "Yeah , life's been.. y'know , life." He chuckles awkwardly , gulping down the water in his cheap cup. Damn geek.

"Ah.." Laura nods her head skeptically , humming to herself and abruptly standing up. "Well , I'm off to get more wine." She quickly dismisses herself and walks away in her expensive heels , clicking against the concrete on the porch. It's just you , Leon , and his father who isn't paying you much mind , more focused on his pride and joy. "So , when will I get some grandkids , Leon?" He asks in his gruff voice , laughing and patting him on the shoulder. God , Leon hates that topic.

He can't imagine having kids with you out of all woman. He'd stick his dick into a homeless lady and have kids with her , before he created life with you. Whenever someone brings it up, he starts thinking. How would they look? Would they have your sharp features and same anger issues? Would they be just like you? Would they be worse? He stays up at night and spirals about it.

But , he doesn't show that. He just laughs it off and shakes his head. "Ah , I don't know about that.." He says , glancing over to see your reaction. You don't seem too annoyed by his response. Plus , you could say the same. You don't want little brats that look like Leon whining all the time. That'll be twice the yelling , you'll lose your voice eventually.

He seems bummed by Leon's dejected response, shaking his head and chugging his beer down. Pig.

"Come on. You've got to give me something. It can't end with you , as much as I love ya." He sighs , leaning back in his lawn chair.

You chuckle in response , sighing softly. "You're funny. Maybe soon , just not now," you butt in quickly before Leon can get a word in.

And once again, he feels like his mouth is instantly glued shut the moment you butt in for him. He can never seem to win. He just keeps glancing at his watch , counting down until you leave.

It's dead silent in your shared apartment as you unlock the front door, fumbling with your keys. Leon's standing behind you like a lost puppy , watching as you fumble with the keys.

Once you both get inside, he sighs and drops his shoes and jacket onto the ground , rubbing at his temples. "You made me look stupid." You suddenly chime , all that fake bullshit now gone. He blinks. What did he do? He didn't think he did anything wrong. "What?" He responds after gulping down the lump in his tight throat.

"Don't what me. You made me look fucking stupid."

He winces at your harsh tone and looks down at his hands , fidgeting with his fingers awkwardly. "That zoning out , you think it's cute? You looked like a weirdo. And don't get my started on the whole spill thing." He frowns at the reminder. He had accidentally startled you , made you spill your juice all over his mom. Yikes! That look in your eyes told him everything he needed to know.

"And you didn't bother to clean it up," you add on after a moment of silence. An irritated chuckle leaves your lips , shaking your head. "What even is that? Seriously. Be a gentleman instead of being a damn pussy all the time , it's pathetic." Honestly , sometimes he forgets he's a guy. He just feels like a girl when you talk down on him , be so assertive. Maybe it's that masculinity deep down. Whatever it is , he better flush it.

He doesn't know what comes next besides that signature smack to his once soft skin , stinging red. He stumbles back a little , a small 'oof' leaving his bruised lips. "Do you think this is funny , think you're better than me?" It's a rhetorical question , obviously. But he can't help but scramble to defend himself. "N-No , I-" Another slap , this time to the other cheek. "Shut up , it didn't need an answer." You scoff , rolling your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest.

His lip quivers and he blinks back his tears. Boys don't cry. Boys don't cry. Yeah, whatever. Except he isn't a little boy. He's a man , at least he thinks so.

Everything else is a blur. A blur full of yelling, kicking , punches , and cursing. Hjs mouth tastes of his own blood and he swears you've knocked some teeth loose , bruises already forming on his porcelain skin. Like a little doll.

Here you go with the fake apology , pout on your face and an even faker script already typed up in your head like an automated message. "You know I didn't mean it." You mutter to him in bed , staring him in his half-lidded now blacked eyes. Hey , at least you gave him a bandaid. Makes him less ugly to look at. All he can mumble is, "I know."

You smile at him , tooth rotting smile. "I only do it because I love you. You'd be a mess without me , huh?" Once again , rhetorical. But you're right. He would be a mess , a nobody. But at the same time , maybe he would actually be able to fulfill his dreams without you chaining him down.

You rest your chin on his bare chest , and he winces. His ribs still hurt and ache from all the kicks to his torso , beat red , black , and blue.

Your touch starts out innocent , and he slowly starts to drift off to sleep in hopes he'll wake up from this nightmare he's living. Until he feels your hand creeping down into his pajama pants, fingernails ghosting over him. His eyes flutter open in surprise , blinking in shock. He's way too tired for this , but he would never tell you that.

You can tell he doesn't want to do this with you , based off of his pitiful expression and frown. A light scoff leaves your lips. "Whats your problem?" You asks , raising an eyebrow at him. "Nothing." He quickly answers , shaking his head.

"You don't want to do this with me."

He furrows his brow and sits up a bit , only to be shoved down again by your hand. "Dont you like me? Aren't you my boyfriend, you're always too tired." You guilt trip him , and just like always , its effective. He bites his lip in thought , before sighing and nodding slowly. A defeated , "Okay."

Leon lies there, motionless, as you pull down his pants. He stares up at the ceiling, trying to focus on the cracks in the paint rather than what's happening to his body. He feels disconnected, like he's floating above the bed watching this scene play out. Your touches, which once brought him pleasure, now feel invasive and wrong. But he knows better than to resist or voice his discomfort , after all, all that training wasn't for nothing.

He feels your hand slowly wrap around his semi , whispering to him in his ear and coming out of the other. His muscles tighten and a soft groan leaves past his lips at the sudden touch. God , he hasn't done this with you in forever. Mostly because he's always tired and beaten.

He feels dirty for letting himself fall for you all over again , despite his lack of interest in this whole thing. His half lidded eyes squeeze shut. He likes to pretend that its not you touching him like this. Likes to pretend that it's somebody else , anybody else. Hell, even his mom would do. Is that sick?

He curses at himself for letting his pretty top leak pre-cum , leaking down his leg and onto your hand. "Wow , look at that," you chuckle , hand stroking his cock as you scrutinize his facial expression and body language. "Its been so long.. I'm surprised it works still." You teases. He doesn't laugh or respond. He just cringes at it.

He doesn't know what he wants. He wants you to stop , push you away and run for the hills. He wants you to keep going , tell him he's only yours and that nobody could make him cum as hard as you do. He's split.

All that's on his mind is getting this over with so you can both roll over and forget about each other until morning. All he wants.

His cock twitches at the feeling of your hand pleasuring him , thumb running over the tip and squeezing him. He gasps , a mix between a whine and a moan slipping out of his mouth. God. Nothing gets you off more than knowing he has no control. Its a power trip , really..

He glances over at your face , cooing to him. And he almost forgets about the way you treat him. Almost. It all comes flooding back , and he groans. His stomach churns and he feels like he's about to vomit.

Is he starting to like it , like you? Is he starting to get used to the way you beat him like a punching bag and use him like a toy? He's sure he's slowly developing Stockholm for you , because whenever he looks into your eyes , suddenly he doesn't want to leave anymore. He wants to stay dumb. Stay stupid and let you abuse him.

He doesn't give much a warning when his back arches and he grips onto the sheets , choked moan echoing throughout your shared bedroom. He feels disgusting. Cumming at the thought of you hurting him, he feels like a whore. Maybe that's all he is.

You don't do much aftercare, ever. He knows that. But a part of him can't help but wonder if its ever gonna be different. It won't be.

And that's the part he loves the most. He loves not having to worry about change , change makes him anxious sometimes.

And as long as he stays with you , he'll never feel that way again.

#beebopbeeboop #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil 🚔#resident evil smut #resident evil leon #leon kennedy smut #re4 leon #dark fic

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