#crafting your ideal body | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

karinasbaby · 4 months ago

Text

sim jaeyun — sense.

P. spiderman!jake x fem!reader (17+) | W. unprotected sex, sir kink, somewhat hard dom jake, tying up, pet names, making out, jake is desperate and needy, breeding kink, creampie, cursing, other filthy shit | WC. around 3k im assuming | A,N. wanted to write smth for spiderman jake so here we are ! pls read a,note at the end !

in which.. jake gets affected by an unknown aphrodisiac potion in the middle of a fight.

limping towards your apartment building at two am wasn’t the ideal situation jake was hoping to find himself just a few hours ago.

yet here he is. right hand pressed against the bleeding gash on the side of his waist while his left hand loosely wrapped around his red mask. an unfavourable situation really. seeing the friendly neighbourhood spiderman walking funnily down the streets of queens.

crimson red leaking between his fingertips and bleeding through his suit, multiple small cuts adorned his legs and angles, ripping apart the high-tech suit that was crafted by mr.stark for him only, weeks of hard work wasted down the drain in the matter of a few villains.

yet none of those tragedies were processed inside of jake’s foggy mind. as ridiculous as it sounded, he felt all the blood rushing from his body to the middle of his legs. adding more to his lightheartedness overall.

he couldn’t figure out what the fuck the stupid robber threw at him in that filthy glass bottle of his. the glass shattering right next to jake’s jaw letting the liquid seep into his suit and before he could even realise it, he had ingested way too much of the unknown liquid mid fight due to his stupid habit of licking his lips and heavy breathing.

tongue pressing against the dampened fabric that was soaked with what he assumed was a potion of some sort because it fucked him up entirely.

he was rock fucking hard. in the middle of the street. with multiple injuries. at two am.

to say that he was sexually frustrated would be an understatement. his body was aching in every way possible. his senses heightening further than they normally should be, hearing his heartbeat drumming loudly in his ear drums as he dragged himself closer and closer to the brick wall of his favourite building.

he almost moaned when he lifted his head upwards to face the windows of the apartment, throbbing, tortorous pain pulsing all throughout his veins and body. he could barely remember all the scenes from the unnecessary assault, from the stinging kicks to his abdomen to the tenderness he felt in his knuckles due to his calculated punches that had the guy knocked out on the floor after hours.

knowing your tendency of asking him countless questions from his fights and encounters with criminals, he tried to prepare himself to relief all your confusion. key word: tried. because he felt his legs beginning to shake under him. breaths turning heavier with each passing second.

he inhaled a deep breath to ground himself just for the next few minutes. eyes focusing on the sight of your window still open, you were still waiting for him. jake’s fingers loosened in relief before he lifted his right arm upwards to shoot a long, thin web. connected himself from the ground to the side of the brick wall.

the translucent web kept his weak figure balanced against the pull of the gravity, feet lightly pressed under the rough ridges and corners before he finally pressed his knee against your window sill.

jake’s half lidded eyes desperately searched for your presence, widening in complete delight when he spotted your figure laying on the bed. one hand wrapped around your favourite novel while the other adjusted the volume of your headphones. your fingers instinctively pressing against the negatively symbolised button before a blur caught your attention. the sight making your heart drop.

your gaze quickly met jake’s exhausted one. “jaeyun?” you whispered in surprise, taking in the appearance of his battered body. shit, how did he get hurt so bad when he left not even an hour ago?

before you could realise it your feet carried you away from your mattress and towards your lover who was now holding onto his stomach in pain. eyes closed and head lowered to swallow down the bile that rose in his throat at the pure anguish his body was going through.

he felt each nerve pulsing with white hot heat. ache circulating his body stemming from the cuts and punches along with his confusing boner that made his head spin in need.

“i’ll go get the first aid kit.” taking off your headphones, you rushed towards the door of your bedroom before disappearing. unaware of the way jake was desperately reaching forward to just stop you. to tell you that his cuts didn’t matter at the moment. and that if he didn’t have you under him in the next few minutes his mind might erupt.

his body ran on his impulse at this current second. head pushing away all his pain and burn from his small cuts and bruises (in comparison to his previous injuries) to focus on his leaking cock that pulsed between his unusually tight boxers.

he felt ridiculously hot and warm. it was uncomfortable to stay in his suit when his body ached to hold yours, he was struggling. so much.

“sit down on the bed, baby.” you walked back inside the room carrying the small box in your hands, attention caught on the ointment that was in the middle of the box surrounded by the multiple bandages that you mentally counted in your head, they seemed like a good amount.

“how did this even ha—?” your words got cut off when jake wrapped his arms around your waist and harshly pulled you against him, the sudden movement causing the first aid kit to fall out of your hands and clatter quietly on your carpet, “get on the bed right now.” jake practically whined into your ear, breath hot against your skin as his desperation was evident in every word.

you were confused, bewildered to say the least. how was he even able to move with such horrendous injuries that were probably excruciatingly painful for him right now? “baby wha—“ “please, baby. i’m begging you. please strip and get on the bed.” he groaned, hands loosening around you as they pushed you gently against the bed.

“but jake your inju—“ rip!

a punch of pieces of fabric just fell onto the ground as jake harshly ripped your clothes off. you didn’t even have the time to process what happened before he buried his face into your chest, hands cupping your breasts that were decorated in his favourite dark red lacey bra. he adored the sight of his favourite lingerie on you, but at this current second he loathed every fabric that was on both of your bodies.

“fuck— baby, i need you so bad. i-i don’t know what’s going on, i got hit with this random liquid by this stupid fucking— oh my god—“ he cut himself off when he felt you leaning closer to him, the slight brush of his dripping cock against your thigh made him almost cum in his suit. “i need you so fucking bad.” he whined before pressing his lips desperately against your lips, relief washing down his body when you reciprocated and stopped asking questions.

truth was you were more than confused at the moment. but with the way your lover was a few seconds away from getting on his knees to beg you so you allow him to fuck you was… an experience indeed.

you really loved seeing this side of jake. functioning on nothing but pure desire and need.

he quickly pushed you towards the bed, falling right after you on top of your soft mattress before he connected your lips again, sucking on your tongue needily while he humped your thighs. his breaths were heavy, soft whimpers of your name and how much he needed you left his pretty plump lips while you felt your panties growing wetter by the second.

you brushed your fingers through his fluffy hair while he tried to kiss you and hump you while simultaneously trying to remove his suit. the frustrated fucks and shits leaving his mouth when he would pull away to get a quick breath before kissing you again.

once his suit was off he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. pushing his body on top of yours, burning skin on skin as he felt countless beads of sweat roll down his body. his body was completely on fire. a depraved urge to fuck you till sunrise centered itself in his head. and before he knew it he was ripping your panties in half and spreading your legs wide open.

you moaned in pleasure when his dripping cock settled on top of your cunt, the precum running down his base almost like he had already came. he cursed under his breath before he used his strength to move you around to his liking.

“you know i’m not the type to do this, but today i just can’t baby. i’ll make it up to you.” he rushed out as he lifted your wrists up above your head, you confusedly look at him before he shot multiple webs around your wrists and the bed. trapping you under him entirely.

your heart dropped to your stomach as jake was the complete opposite of whoever was on top of you right now. he never truly fucked you, he made love to you every chance he got. wrapping himself around you and gently pleasuring you because your pleasure was his. he was so tender and loving. a drastic contrast from the man that used to kiss your wrists when you were coming down from your high to the man that just tied your wrists by using his web fluid. and you can’t say you weren’t excited.

he settled onto his knees, taking in the breathtaking sight of you sprawled out on the bed in front of him, legs spread widely with your cunt dripping. your hole practically begging him to fill you up. he slapped his cock against your soaked folds a few times. riling you up further as you squealed under him at the jolts of shock rushing throughout your body from your clit.

“look at you baby… you looking so beautiful. so pretty for me.” he breathed out dazedly, a soft smile carving its way onto his lips as your pretty eyes glossed over while your bottom lip got trapped between your teeth, “gonna be a good girl for me tonight, hm?” he teased as he brushed his pulsing length between your folds, dipping the tip just in slightly before pulling away and enjoying your mewls of his name.

“yes— yes, yes! i’ll always be your good girl, please.” you choked out, the need for him pulsing throughout your body. “please what?” he paused his movements as his eyes pierced into yours. “please, sir.”

“such a good girl for me.” he chuckled when he pushed his length in, you gasped as he thrusted in deeply, brushing against all of your sweet spots in one go. you were seeing stars at the way he filled you up, his thick length always stretching your walls out just right. he was perfect.

“fuck— baby, you feel so fucking good.” he moaned, his pace becoming completely out of control as he felt his need and desire becoming more intense, his emotions stirring with his thoughts while the only thing he knew his body needed was to release. to fill and stuff you full of his cum and hopefully the effects of the potion will come off.

you moaned his name so sweetly for him, hands struggling against the webs as he spread your legs wider against your bed, his eyes entranced on the way his length disappeared inside of your soaked cunt before it came out glistening, multiple threads of wetness connecting you both as the wet sounds began to echo in your room. “sir— i’m so s-so close.” you mewled out as he continued to pound into you.

at your words jake switched his position, from balancing himself on his knees on your mattress to hovering above you, placing your legs back atop his shoulder as he sank in deeper this time.

broken moans of his name left your mouth as his tip kept abusing your sweetest spots over and over again. eyes rolling to the back of your head when jake slipped his hand between the two of you and used his thumb to rub tantalising circles on your swollen clit, coaxing your orgasm out.

“wanna cum for me baby? cum all over my cock like a good girl?” teasing you, he leaned down to leave bite marks over every inch of skin he could access, his body jolting with electricity and excitement when you arched your back against him, jaw going slack as the coil in your abdomen tightened more and more.

jake felt his mind reeling when you finally tightened unbelievably around him to the point pulling out almost felt painful. he relished in the way your body convulsed while he switched from rubbing your clit to landing slaps against it. each wet slap resonating in the room accompanied by your desperate moans while you creamed around his cock so prettily.

he felt like he was floating through a cloud of euphoria at the view of you shaking beneath him, because of him. his hips continued to pound into you, dick pulsing in need inside of you as his own climax was right around the corner.

you desperately pulled at the webs, twitching under jaeyun as he continued to fuck you through and overstimulate you from your orgasm, your body felt like it was lit ablaze as he pleased you while he chased his own release. “feels good baby?” he asked as lowered himself this time to kiss along your chest, smiling against your skin when you nodded with a soft “mhm”. unable to produce any coherent response.

jake’s other hand came up to rip your bra off, swiftly and with ease the thin fabric landed on the floor next to the other garments while one of jaeyun’s hand came up to massage your breast as his lips wrapped around the other.

you threw your head back when his tongue and fingers played and pulled at your sensitive nipples teasingly. the sensation of him fucking himself so deep inside of you while he toyed with your breasts shocks of pleasure travel across your spine. every nerve ending blasting with ecstasy as jake overstimulated you.

“shit— baby i’m so close.” he moaned against your chest, swollen lips wrapped around your nipples while he absentmindedly thrusted his hips sloppily, his body running on his impulse to get him off as soon as possible, his own abdomen tightened in pleasure as he could taste his orgasm on the tip of his tongue

“please fill me up, please sir. i need you so much.” you moaned out in need, craving the feeling of his warm cum spilling inside of you. “yeah? how bad do you need me?” he breathed, littering kisses down the middle of your breasts as his mind spun continuously. “so fucking bad. i need you to breed me and stuff me full with your cum, sir. please please give it to me.” he groaned as your words seemed to push him right down the edge.

his body jerked above you while his cock twitched, spilling out rope after rope deep inside of you. you both moaned in euphoria at the feeling, so fulfilling and satisfying for both of you as jake began to grind against you, riding out his release before falling on top of your body.

the two of you were catching your breaths, basking in the blissful aftermath when you realised jake was unusually silent. “jake…?” no response.

“jake i swear to god if you fell asleep and left me in these fuckass webs i will chop—“ and then you heard him snoring.

.. on the brighter side atleast he’s no longer affected by a sex potion.

a,note. this is not proof read or edited and will 100% be rewritten when i have the time cuz i hate how it turned out its so fawking rushed like this came out from 30 mins but pls take this as i try my best to write my full heeseung fic im trying my best thank you !! ♡

2K notes · View notes

mccromy · 3 months ago

Text

Tbh I think people should be more rabid about moshang. Like, talk about an artist falling in love with his creation, then upgrade it to infinity.

I mean, it is not like Shang Qinghua made Mobei-Jun and fell in love with him because he was so beautiful. Shang Qinghua designed Mobei-Jun to be what Shang Qinghua considered perfect. Every single flaw was included lovingly, every virtue, every inch of his body and face to be what Shang Qinghua found the most handsome, attractive. His ideal man. He made Mobei-Jun for himself, he made him with the intention to love him.

He told a history about a boy who was wronged, who had every ounce of kindness bleed out through a thousand cuts. Who took revenge on every single person who hurt him, even if by negligence. Made the whole world revolve around him, changed it to satisfy his readers.

And then made Mobei-Jun for himself. He made him silent, strong, mistrustful, arrogant, spoiled and beautiful and set him up for betrayal. Made his life tragic in that way authors do with their favorite characters.

(Luo Binghe was perfect in the eyes of the world. Shang Qinghua crafted Mobei-Jun to be perfect in his eyes.)

Can you imagine? If god made you solely with the intention to love you. Perfect in the eyes of god, literally.

And then Shang Qinghua became Mobei-Jun's servant. Mobei-Jun was both his King and his favorite creation. (As if god made himself a personal deity to worship.)

Their relationship was rocky (mountain sized rocks) for what amounts to decades. Shang Qinghua's perfect man was so incredibly flawed it made him near impossible to get along with, he was also destined to kill Shang Qinghua. And Shang Qinghua was far from perfect himself, he was also destined to stab Mobei-Jun in the back. What's more, Shang Qinghua wove those threads of fate himself.

(In the end none of that happened. But think about it.)

Even better, when put like that, Moshang sounds so poetic. And it could be!... If moshang was composed by anybody else other than Mobei "to get your man you need to beat him up at least three times a day" Jun and Shang "the best way to seduce someone is to be so pathetic and lame!" Qinghua.

Shang Qinghua is literally Mobei-Jun's creator but he's also his little minion going nice one, boss!, the LeFou to Mobei-Jun's Gaston. The sleazy car salesman to Mobei-Jun's Nepo baby CEO. The Connecticut Clark to his Malfina.

How, just how is it possible that I have to channel my inner truffle hog when sniffing around for moshang brainrot? Everybody should be losing black brain matter through their nostrils about them, and yet.

#like. Hua Cheng eat your heart out. I'm sorry but Shang Qinghua quite literally MADE HIM #also not like there isn't ANY brainrot. there is. I can find those truffles easy peasy #but i have never looked away for two seconds and look back to see moshang flesh creatures you know #bingqiu left the bar too high #moshang #shang qinghua #mobei jun #svsss #mip

2K notes · View notes

spotsupstuff · 2 years ago

Text

OUGHHHRHGHHHHH MY LITTLE ASSHOLE FUCKS (and bessie little angel bessie)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AUGH THEY'RE SO PRETTY IN YOUR STYLE... watch out with cookin fish in a microwave he could explode like an egg

i am putting your little guys in my mental microwave @spotsupstuff

#others' art #rw #favs #oc tag #oc: fish inside a birdcage #oc: old man shawn #oc: the seafarer #oc: the tinkerer #aight. -cocks compliment gun-#STARS above your shading is WONDERFUL you did SHADED PIECES- oh just you wait. i finish this stinkin post thats been hanging in my drafts-#-for a month n ill be comin back for you and FAM again i cannot just let this slide- itd be immoral of me 😔 WHOLE SHADED PIECES GODS ABOVE #the shading on the first one- just- ough ough ough... i ADORE the boldness of the light the strength of it. the way fish looks so holy like #-that... finally ridden of the 'bullied by squidcadas that lame nerd bitch' status... impossible became possible for once #AND DO I SEE CORRECTLY DID YOU MAKE HIS HEAD FIN ANTENNA THING SEE THROUGH????? OH MY FUCKIN GODS!!!!!!!!! OH MY GODS THATS SO BEAUTIFUL #you made him look like an iterator-sona for a wheel/karma flower im going to cry i love that so much my brain is gon explode #that plays SO well into his themes and things imma stim so hard ill fly to the moon. i gotta see if i can pull that off as well now #FUCKIN SHAWN I DIDNT EXPECT SHAWN OF ALL SCAV OCS IVE MADE I DIDNT EXPECT THE BAKED GRANDPA livin his best life with local hatchiegirl...#u drew bessie so wonderfully too lookit that girl shes so Chonky. that lil blep is everything when i think about it actually...#SEAF seaf is so aggressively macho im gonna yell /pos what a man. this is the ideal male body yes. peak performance. he could-#-clock a leviathan. that shit would Evaporate. im such a fan of the fur/hair details on his body that pleases my eyeball so much #AND the last one- tinktink looks like a fuckin Entity.. fishs bomb-crafting sleep paralysis demon friend KLVDJSGLKSDM #you shaped her so cozily i just kinda wanna pick her up spin her around and then hug her ough 🙏 shes like a Plushie.....#AND FISHS FACE IN THE LAST PIC I KEEP LAUGHING ABOUT IT he looks so concerned. 'hm. hrmmn.... i think i sense a disturbance in the force.'#the disturbance in question is the 40% chance of unexplainable explosion just waiting to happen right in their faces #i do also really wanna praise how you drew fishs hands your style of hands and mine for the iterators seems so different but you still did-#-such a great job there more or less mimicking mine! its amazing!!!!!#im very honored that youve decided to draw them! you are an awesome artist n ngl i didnt expect this lsdkgjslkdkjg thank you 💜

171 notes · View notes

honeydewblogforwriting · 28 days ago

Text

The Wolff Pack (Mr. and Mrs. Wolff pt.2)

Warnings: innuendos, cursing, bad grammar, poorly translated German

Pt.1

Sunday (race day) :

Monday night:

Two weeks later

Y/N: Hello GQ. I'm Y/N YM/N Wolff

Toto: and I'm Toto Wolff

Y/N: you mean Torger Christian Wolff. We're using our government names today, babe. No nicknames.

Toto: y/n, please.

Y/N (giggling) : okay, okay. I'm sorry, you guys can cut that part out.

Y/N and Toto: and today we'll be doing the GQ's couple quiz to see how well we know each other.

Producer: who's going first?

Toto: Y/N is always first in my life so her.

Y/N: awww, he's trying to butter me up incase he gets anything wrong!

[Toto shakes his head]

Y/N: Okay first question. When did we first meet?

Toto: At the 2018 Austin GP

Y/N: ehhh wrong answer forehead!

Toto: schatz, I'm right. You were invited by Ferrari and you had on their merchandise and a beautiful red jacket and your hair was down. You were passing by Mercedes Hospitality and we smiled at each other and you gave me a tiny wave.

Y/N: babe... what? I- wait, its coming back to me now. What how did you remember that?

Toto: How could I forget? You looked absolutely radiant in that hideous ferrari red, a hard feat to pull off.

Y/N: (giggling) awww. Give him two points for this one. Okay, next question: what is my favourite look on you?

Toto: mein Geburtstagsanzug

[Subtitle: my birthday suit]

Y/N: benehmen

[Subtitle: behave]

Toto: okay, serious answer now. You love me in a good button down, pleated pants and my glasses.

Y/N: yes, I could literally eat you up when you wear that.

Toto: and you're telling me to behave?

Y/N: babe, you're worse than me but anyways! Next question, what is my go to soda order?

Toto: this has to be a trick question because you don't drink soda. You only indulge in green juices and smoothies. Your favourite is a kale, spinach and beet smoothie with almond milk and peanut butter.

Y/N: you're correct once again! He knows me so well guys. I know this was a few years ago but what was the song that i constantly sang after we got engaged? (laughing)

Toto: (shakes head while chuckling) It was so awful and unexpected that it's stuck with me and sometimes (unfortunately) plays in my head. It went something like, "put it on him make him wanna marry me." And you'd sing it while flaunting your ring and body rolling.

Y/N: yes, right on the nose! Okay, so what is my ideal type of man?

Toto: derjenige, der dich zur Mutter gemacht hat, meine Liebe

[Subtitle: the one who made you a mom, my love.]

Y/N: correct again! Babe, you're on fire! And every correct answer makes you hotter and hotter...Baby Nummer zwei könnte früher kommen als geplant

[Subtitle: baby number 2 might come sooner than we planned].

Toto: schatz, do not make jokes like that, you know what I want.

Y/N: I'm not joking.

[silence on set as the camera switches between y/n and Toto who are locked in intense eye contact]

[Producer behind the scene]: um guys

Y/N: oh sorry, um, next question- what was the first foreign language I learned in high school?

Toto: Spanish and then you did French and finally Portuguese but you're more inclined to Portuguese. You're currently learning German.

Y/N: correct, the perks of attending a private school. And, to those of you viewing at home, I'm learning German because Torger refuses to speak to baby girl in English! He swears that she has to know German just as fluently as English and I don't want to be left out so I'm indulging in it.

Y/N: Okay, final question- what is my favourite thing to do?

Toto: well, it's definitely trying new things. You love to try different hobbies, crafts, sports, business ventures, careers and it's admirable, you just go after what you want even if it's something you know nothing about. Also you love spending time with die Prinzessin .

Y/N: correct again, Torger Christian Wolff, you got everything right, now that is stinking cute.

[TOTO WOLFF QUIZZES Y/N WOLFF]

Toto: Okay, schatz, first question- when is my birthday?

Y/N: is this a trick question? Your birthday is January 12. You were born in 1972 in Vienna, Austria to a Middle class family and your education was focused towards finance and economics because of the family you grew up in.

Toto: (laughing) schatz, you might as well let the people know my blood type, that was a lot of details but all true. I'll give you 4 points for this. Okay, next question. What is my favourite snack?

Y/N: me of course!

Toto: you'd be my favourite meal, schatz

Y/N: oop, okay! Let me get serious though, your favourite snack is Kumpir with Sauerkraut Filling and Pumpernickel Crumble. You ate so much of it on our honeymoon that it made you sick. I'm surprised you still like it (giggling).

Toto: Where is my favourite place to be?

Y/N: okay I'm giving two answers for this one- first, it's anywhere that Prinzessin and I are and second, at home it used to be in our room but now it's Prinzessin's room. Torger would spend all day there if he could.

Toto: mhmm, I'm actually surprised that your answer was PG but correct again beautiful. Next question, what is my biggest priority?

Y/N: family, I know this might seem like a surprise to the viewers but you have never missed an anniversary, hospital visit, birthing class, date night, family reunion, birthday celebration or anything of the sort. I don't know how you do it but that it's so clear to see that your loved ones are your number priority .

Toto: How would I describe myself ? Like how do I view myself ?

Y/N: mhm this is tough, I think you consider yourself as someone who is constantly evolving whether that's in your personal life or your career. You're driven and goal oriented. You've got that aggressive streak that the Internet loves to make memes of but uh, yeah. How'd I do?

Toto: pretty spot on. It's like you know me better than I know myself. Okay, final question, what is the name of our sweet little angel ?

Y/N: yup, you heard that right, for the first time ever we will be revealing the name of our baby girl. We thought it would be perfect to announce it during something so fun and sweet. Anyways enough of the chit chat.

Y/N and Toto: (turns to look at each other, grabs each other hands) we'd like to formally introduce the world to Myah Sunshine Wolff!

Y/N: it was so nice being here and I'd like to thank GQ for inviting us onto their wonderful platform.

Toto: I hope you guys enjoy watching this as much as we enjoyed making this. Bye!

(Both of them wave until the screen goes black)

A few hours after the video is released :

#f1 x black!reader #f1 smau #black!reader #f1 x reader #toto wolff x black!reader #toto wolff x reader #f1 #formula 1

311 notes · View notes

thewriteadviceforwriters · 5 months ago

Text

Creating Compelling Character Arcs: A Guide for Fiction Writers

As writers, one of our most important jobs is to craft characters that feel fully realized and three-dimensional. Great characters aren't just names on a page — they're complex beings with arcs that take them on profound journeys of change and growth. A compelling character arc can make the difference between a forgettable story and one that sticks with readers long after they've turned the final page.

Today, I'm going to walk you through the art of crafting character arcs that are as rich and multi-layered as the people you encounter in real life. Whether you're a first-time novelist or a seasoned storyteller, this guide will give you the tools to create character journeys that are equal parts meaningful and unforgettable.

What Is a Character Arc?

Before we go any further, let's make sure we're all on the same page about what a character arc actually is. In the most basic sense, a character arc refers to the internal journey a character undergoes over the course of a story. It's the path they travel, the obstacles they face, and the ways in which their beliefs, mindsets, and core selves evolve through the events of the narrative.

A character arc isn't just about what happens to a character on the outside. Sure, external conflict and plot developments play a major role — but the real meat of a character arc lies in how those external forces shape the character's internal landscape. Do their ideals get shattered? Is their worldview permanently altered? Do they have to confront harsh truths about themselves in order to grow?

The most resonant character arcs dig deep into these universal human experiences of struggle, self-discovery, and change. They mirror the journeys we all go through in our own lives, making characters feel powerfully relatable even in the most imaginative settings.

The Anatomy of an Effective Character Arc

Now that we understand what character arcs are, how do we actually construct one that feels authentic and impactful? Let's break down the key components:

The Inciting Incident

Every great character arc begins with a spark — something that disrupts the status quo of the character's life and sets them on an unexpected path. This inciting incident can take countless forms, be it the death of a loved one, a sudden loss of power or status, an epic betrayal, or a long-held dream finally becoming attainable.

Whatever shape it takes, the inciting incident needs to really shake the character's foundations and push them in a direction they wouldn't have gone otherwise. It opens up new struggles, questions, and internal conflicts that they'll have to grapple with over the course of the story.

Lies They Believe

Tied closely to the inciting incident are the core lies or limiting beliefs that have been holding your character back. Perhaps they've internalized society's body image expectations and believe they're unlovable. Maybe they grew up in poverty and are convinced that they'll never be able to escape that cyclical struggle.

Whatever these lies are, they'll inform how your character reacts and responds to the inciting incident. Their ingrained perceptions about themselves and the world will directly color their choices and emotional journeys — and the more visceral and specific these lies feel, the more compelling opportunities for growth your character will have.

The Struggle

With the stage set by the inciting incident and their deeply-held lies exposed, your character will then have to navigate a profound inner struggle that stems from this setup. This is where the real meat of the character arc takes place as they encounter obstacles, crises of faith, moral dilemmas, and other pivotal moments that start to reshape their core sense of self.

Importantly, this struggle shouldn't be a straight line from Point A to Point B. Just like in real life, people tend to take a messy, non-linear path when it comes to overcoming their limiting mindsets. They'll make progress, backslide into old habits, gain new awareness, then repeat the cycle. Mirroring this meandering but ever-deepening evolution is what makes a character arc feel authentic and relatable.

Moments of Truth

As your character wrestles with their internal demons and existential questions, you'll want to include potent Moments of Truth that shake them to their core. These are the climactic instances where they're forced to finally confront the lies they believe head-on. It could be a painful conversation that shatters their perception of someone they trusted. Or perhaps they realize the fatal flaw in their own logic after hitting a point of no return.

These Moments of Truth pack a visceral punch that catalyzes profound realizations within your character. They're the litmus tests where your protagonist either rises to the occasion and starts radically changing their mindset — or they fail, downing further into delusion or avoiding the insights they need to undergo a full transformation.

The Resolution

After enduring the long, tangled journey of their character arc, your protagonist will ideally arrive at a resolution that feels deeply cathartic and well-earned. This is where all of their struggle pays off and we see them evolve into a fundamentally different version of themselves, leaving their old limiting beliefs behind.

A successfully crafted resolution in a character arc shouldn't just arrive out of nowhere — it should feel completely organic based on everything they've experienced over the course of their thematic journey. We should be able to look back and see how all of the challenges they surmounted ultimately reshaped their perspective and led them to this new awakening. And while not every character needs to find total fulfillment, for an arc to feel truly complete, there needs to be a definitive sense that their internal struggle has reached a meaningful culmination.

Tips for Crafting Resonant Character Arcs

I know that was a lot of ground to cover, so let's recap a few key pointers to keep in mind as you start mapping out your own character's trajectories:

Get Specific With Backstory

To build a robust character arc, a deep understanding of your protagonist's backstory and psychology is indispensable. What childhood wounds do they carry? What belief systems were instilled in them from a young age? The more thoroughly you flesh out their history and inner workings, the more natural their arc will feel.

Strive For Nuance

One of the biggest pitfalls to avoid with character arcs is resorting to oversimplified clichés or unrealistic "redemption" stories. People are endlessly complex — your character's evolution should reflect that intricate messiness and nuance to feel grounded. Embrace moral grays, contradictions, and partial awakenings that upend expectations.

Make the External Match the Internal

While a character arc hinges on interior experiences, it's also crucial that the external plot events actively play a role in driving this inner journey. The inciting incident, the obstacles they face, the climactic Moments of Truth — all of these exterior occurrences should serve as narrative engines that force your character to continually reckon with themselves.

Dig Into Your Own Experiences

Finally, the best way to instill true authenticity into your character arcs is to draw deeply from the personal transformations you've gone through yourself. We all carry with us the scars, growth, and shattered illusions of our real-life arcs — use that raw honesty as fertile soil to birth characters whose journeys will resonate on a soulful level.

Happy Writing!

#writing #writeblr #thewriteadviceforwriters #creative writing #on writing #writers block #writing tips #how to write #writers and poets #writers on tumblr #authors on tumblr #author #historical fiction #fiction #novel #publishing #short stories #short story #character arcs

531 notes · View notes

myster-roca · 6 months ago

Text

The Catfish Incident

"Thanks for the energy drink, man," Jake said, cracking open his can of blue energy soda as we ambled down the dimly lit hallway back to our apartments. The gym members' party had left us both hot and sweaty, and I thought a refreshing drink would be the perfect cap to our evening.

"Yeah, no problem, bro. You owe me one next time!" I replied, although I was thinking something else entirely as I watched him guzzle his beverage.

He was tall, about six feet three inches, with a toned physique that would make anyone envious. His hair, the color of wheat, was slicked back with some kind of product, and he wore a tank top that hugged his chest tightly, emphasizing his broad shoulders and thick arms. His shorts were tight enough to show off his wide hips and well-defined ass.

Standing beside him, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of insecurity. While I was reasonably fit and steadily working towards what I hoped would be my ideal body, Jake's presence ignited a deeper yearning within me. It wasn’t just about having muscular broad shoulders and a confident stride—it was about embodying that effortless aura of masculinity, the kind of identity that defines an alpha male.

"Oh yeah, almost forgot—I need to head back to my apartment now," Jake said abruptly. "I have a little rendezvous tonight," he added, flashing a smile.

"Sounds like a plan. What time is your date?" I asked casually, pausing beside him.

“About an hour from now, so I should probably hit the showers first. Gotta freshen up and work out these guns again,” he laughed. Then, without warning, he raised his left arm above his head and flexed his bicep, staring intently into my eyes. “It’s been too long since they’ve seen any action.”

I felt myself blush uncontrollably at his words, but luckily Jake didn't see it, and he continued heading down the hallway.

"See you tomorrow, Dave!" he called out over his shoulder before disappearing through his apartment door.

Little did he know, I was well aware of who he was meeting tonight.

As I stepped into my apartment, the familiar walls and furnishings offered no comfort to the restless longing stirring within me.

Each well-placed book and neatly aligned chair seemed to echo the structured, unyielding life I had sculpted for myself—a life of discipline as a respected professor, always mindful of reputation and societal expectations.

With a sigh, I removed my glasses and set them aside on the table. The lenses caught the fading light of the day, scattering beams that danced across the blandness of my living space, teasing me with glimpses of brightness in my otherwise predictable world.

This simple act felt like peeling away the layers of a persona crafted over years.

It felt symbolic, like I was discarding a part of myself that was too familiar, too constricted by old fears and inhibitions. Tonight was not a night for the timid David hidden behind those lenses; it was a night for someone entirely new.

I pulled off my tank top, feeling the cool air hit my bare skin, followed by the soft cotton of my white gym shorts. Finally, I slid down my underwear and tossed them aside. I felt incredibly vulnerable, standing there nude with no one else around.

Across the room, my gaze then shifted to the bed, where the realistic bodysuit of a Latino model lay outstretched. The room lighting cast a bright hue over its meticulously detailed surface, accentuating each muscular contour and shadow, making it look almost alive. It wasn’t just a garment; it was a gateway to another existence.

As soon as I saw it, I couldn’t resist touching its smooth skin. I ran my fingers over its chest and arms, feeling the softness of its skin. Then I slid my hands down to its waist and squeezed its firm butt cheeks. It even had a built-in penis that was larger than my own, which gave me a sense of excitement.

"Alright," I muttered under my breath, "let’s get started."

I could feel my dick twitch as I reached down and grabbed hold of the slit at the back of the bodysuit. The suit itself was made of a special material that allowed for easy movement and flexibility. Slowly, I began pulling the two sides apart so that there would be enough room for me to get inside.

As I sat down in the chair, I began sliding my right leg into one of the muscular legs. They were tight but not uncomfortable. As I pulled them up over my thigh, I could feel the skin stretching slightly as it moved up my leg. This was going to be so fucking hot!

I continued moving my left leg into the second leg until both feet were on the ground. Next, I positioned my shaft to the built-in dick and slid my arms into the sleeves. My biceps bulged with each movement.

Standing up, I took a few steps forward, feeling the incredible strength of my legs against my skin. I flexed my arm, watching the veins pulsate under the surface. I couldn’t help but smile at my new, sexy body.

Finally, I put on the built-in mask that resembled the handsome face of a Latino model.

As I slid it over my head, I felt the soft material conform to the contours of my face.

Once the mask was fully secured, the ’Heddon’ app on my phone opened up.

In order for the bodysuit to work properly, it needed to be activated. I selected “Start Sealing” and watched as the screen filled with images of the process.

Suddenly, there was a click, and the suit began to seal shut around me. I felt the muscles of my legs begin to tingle as they fused with the suit.

My thighs and calves became more defined as the skin tightened around them. The same sensation spread across my chest and shoulders, making them bulge outward. My arms seemed to grow larger as the suit conformed to my muscles.

Within seconds, the transformation was complete, and the suit fully integrated with my body, leaving no trace of its presence. It was as if I had become one with this sexy, lifelike skin.

With a grin, I stepped towards the mirror, admiring my reflection. The face staring back at me was that of a young, fit Hispanic man with broad shoulders and narrow hips.

“Welcome back,” I whispered to myself as I looked in the mirror at my new reflection. “Diego.”

My jawline was strong and defined, giving me a masculine appearance. I flexed my biceps, showing off the definition in my arms.

I ran my hands over my hard chest, feeling the firmness beneath my fingers. Then, I squeezed my pecs, enjoying the way they rippled beneath my touch.

I let my hands travel down to the bulge between my legs, squeezing it gently. My cock throbbed with excitement as I imagined what it would feel like to fuck someone with this body.

I picked up my phone, opened a dating app and messaged Jake using the Diego profile. We’d chatted a little bit on the app a few weeks earlier, and he seemed really interested in meeting up.

“Hey sexy,” I typed into the chat window. “Want to see some pics?”

“Sure thing, stud,” Jake responded. “Whatcha got?”

I smiled as I sent him a couple of pictures of myself wearing different leather and latex outfits.

“That’s hot,” Jake wrote. “Do you think you can do something even hotter tonight?”

I grinned as I typed back, “Of course, baby. Anything for you.”

****************************************************

A few weeks ago, I stumbled upon a Reddit thread mentioning "Heddon: House of Transformation" — a service offering realistic bodysuits that promised an entirely new level of personal transformation. Intrigued yet skeptical, I clicked through.

The website was adorned with glossy images of transformations and detailed testimonials from users who spoke of life-altering experiences. Video demos showcased the suits’ incredible realism and functionality, portraying seamless transitions from person to suit.

Admittedly, the site and service were new, which did little to alleviate my skepticism. However, a promotional offer for first-time users—a significant discount on their first order—was enough to tip the scales.

Despite my initial doubts and the nagging thought that it could all be an elaborate scam, I decided to take the plunge with some disposable income I’ve set aside.

I ordered a customized bodysuit modeled after a muscular Latino—a physique and persona so starkly different from my own that it felt like it could only exist in fantasies.

When the package arrived, it included not just the bodysuit but also detailed instructions for using the accompanying "Heddon: House of Transformation" app.

The app, once downloaded, allowed me to control the bodysuit’s features, including the crucial sealing process which would integrate the suit seamlessly with my own body.

When I first donned my new Diego bodysuit a few nights ago, I created a fake profile on the dating app and got tons of messages but one message caught my attention— it was my gym buddy Jake.

“Hi there! You’re so hot and cute!” he wrote.

“Thank you! You’re pretty handsome yourself,” I responded.

We chatted for a bit, discussing our hobbies and interests. I told him that I was looking for someone to share my fetishes with, and that I loved wearing latex.

He responded quickly, saying that he was also interested in exploring his kinks and that he loved wearing leather and latex. Before long, we were messaging each other every night, sharing our deepest desires and fantasies.

A few days later, Jake asked me if I would be willing to come over to his apartment and have some fun. I agreed, excited to finally meet him in person.

“I’m so glad you’re coming over,” he wrote back. “I’ve been dying to meet you in person.”

“Me too,” I replied. “I can’t wait to see you.”

****************************************************

Now, here I am, standing outside Jake’s apartment door, feeling nervous and excited all at once. I knocked on Jake's door and soon heard the sound of footsteps approaching. The door swung open, revealing Jake standing there in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

Diego! Come in!” he says, grinning at me. I follow him into the apartment, and he shuts the door behind us.

Jake leans against the door, studying my body. “Wow, you look amazing,” he says. “I never imagined you would actually look like this.”

“Thanks. It feels good to finally be able to meet you in person,” I reply. Jake smiles and directs me toward the living room. I remove my jacket, revealing my tight black muscle shirt and latex pants.

Jake’s eyes widen, and he lets out a low groan. “Damn, you’re fucking hot,” he says, running his hands along my chest. His hand then slides down my chest and over my crotch. “And you’re hard.”

“I am,” I whisper. “You make me feel so horny.”

We sit down on the couch, and Jake pours us some drinks. “So, tell me more about yourself,” he says. “What kind of stuff do you like doing?”

“Well, I love wearing leather and latex,” I say. “And I love playing different characters. Sometimes I dress up as a superhero, sometimes as a villain. It really depends on my mood.”

“That’s cool,” Jake says. “Me too. I love wearing my costumes, especially when I’m out with friends. It helps me let loose and have fun.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” I say. “Sometimes it’s hard to be yourself when you’re around other people, but when you’re in your costume, you can let go and be whoever you want to be.”

“Exactly,” Jake says, smiling. “It’s like a whole new world opens up when you put on a costume.”

Jake leans closer, his eyes locked on mine. “And sometimes, they bring us closer to our true selves than we ever thought possible. Maybe because we feel safe behind the mask, we can express our true feelings.”

The air between us charges with an unspoken understanding. I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my chest. “Have you ever felt that way? Like you’ve discovered something real about yourself through a character?”

Jake nods slowly, his gaze intensifying. “More often than you might think. Sometimes, it’s only when I'm someone else that I can express what I really feel... what I really want.”

I watch as he removes his towel, revealing his hard cock. I gasp in pleasure as he strokes himself slowly, looking straight into my eyes. The moment hangs heavy between us, laden with unvoiced desires.

Then, impulsively, Jake closes the distance, his lips meeting mine in a passionate kiss that feels like the culmination of our shared revelations. Our tongues dance together, exploring each other's mouths, as I moan softly and my fingers thread through Jake's soft hair.

Jake breaks away from our fervent kiss, leaving me breathless and longing for more. With a sultry grin, he stands up and begins to undress me, one piece at a time.

My excitement grows as he pulls my tight latex shirt over my head, exposing my toned chest and chiseled abs. He trails his fingers down my torso, sending delicious tingles through my entire body.

As Jake continues to undress me, his touch becomes increasingly intimate and sensual. He caresses my skin, grazing his fingertips along my shoulders, arms, and sides. I lean into his touch, letting the warmth of his hands linger on my skin.

Finally, Jake reaches my pants and skillfully slips them down my legs, revealing my matching black briefs. He pauses for a moment, admiring the sight of me in my underwear, before slowly removing them as well. Standing before him completely naked, I feel exposed yet empowered by his admiration.

Jake's eyes sparkle with lust as he looks me up and down. "You're beautiful," he whispers, his voice thick with desire.

My heart races as he bends down to press his lips against my chest, trailing kisses down to my abdomen. His hands explore my body, massaging my muscles and stroking my skin. I close my eyes, surrendering to the waves of pleasure that wash over me.

Just as I start to drift into blissful oblivion, Jake abruptly stops. I open my eyes to find him looking intently into my eyes, a small smile playing on his lips.

"What's wrong?" I ask, confused by the sudden pause.

"Come with me," he murmurs. "I have something I want to show you. It’s my private collection."

He then gestured to a door at the end of the hall. My heart pounded in my chest as I followed him into the room.

Entering, I gasped in surprise at the sight. Scattered all over the room were several realistic bodysuits, each one more impressive than the last.

While pretending to be amazed, I wondered if Jake realized I was wearing a fake body.

Jake grinned. "My job has its perks," he explained. "I'm a beta tester for 'Heddon', so I get access to their entire collection."

"This is amazing," I remarked, feigning ignorance. My hands ran over one of the suits. "What are these things and how do they work?"

"Don't pretend you don't know," Jake chuckled. "You may think you're fooling me, but you aren't."

He was right. Staring at him in disbelief, I asked, "What?... what do you mean?"

"It's not a secret," Jake replied. "These suits have a distinct smell, and I've gotten used to it. I know when someone is wearing one."

I sighed, knowing I couldn't deny it any longer. "Okay, fine," I admitted. "You caught me. But please, don't tell anyone else. This is just between us."

"Of course," Jake nodded. "I understand."

He reached out and touched the side of my fake face. "I don't care who you are or what you're doing. I like the idea of someone else being able to take on a new identity for a while."

"Thank you," I said, smiling. "But seriously, why are you showing me all of these suits?"

Jake shrugged. "Since you're wearing one, I thought of wearing one as well," he suggested. "Maybe we can have a little role-play fun."

He then picked up a bodysuit that resembled a tanned male model with long hair. "Do you think this fits the bill?" he asked, holding it up.

I smirked and touched the bodysuit Jake had chosen. "Let's find out, shall we?"

#male body transformation #male transformation #male bodysuit #male disguise #male body suit #male impersonation #male skinsuit #male skin

437 notes · View notes

rebelliousstories · 7 months ago

Text

Not On My Watch

Relationship: Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard x Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: Yes by @victias

Warnings: Strong Language, Brief Violence, Suggestive Themes

Word Count: 1,128

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Part Two: Faces of Old, Faces of New

Summary: There is something that can flip a switch in even the most trusting of men; jealousy. Now what switch that is all depends on the man.

Walking alongside each other in the desert was not the most ideal plan for anyone. But it worked for them. Salvation from the blistering heat was found just up the road at a small city that was hustling and bustling with people and shops.

“How many you got left, baby?” She asked, peaking her head out from the lip of her matching cowboy hat. Deftly, Cooper dug around in his satchel to pull the bag with his chems out.

“Got three. Know anyone with access here?” He replied, tucking them back in and continuing to walk.

“Please. You know I always know a guy, baby. Don’t worry about it.” Her tone was teasing as she playfully hit his shoulder. Cooper allowed a small smirk to overtake his face at his partner’s jests. Thoughts ran rampant in his head as he continued to walk. His self esteem was finally on the up and up after they collected the latest bounty, but it was times like these that tested that.

It seems like a lifetime ago that he had stumbled upon the woman in the middle of the Wasteland, half beaten and looted, but determined to get her effects back in a timely manner. An unusual partnership struck up when she offered a hundred caps to help her find the men that took her gear. As they tracked them through the Wastelands, they quickly realized that they had more in common with each other than they previously thought.

Oh, and get her gear she did. Cooper did not realize that he was that attracted to someone so covered in blood and gore until he saw the hell she unleashed upon those men. From that point forward, they continued to travel and make their living together. Trading chems and caps for companionship.

However, in between the nights nestled together for warmth, and days on the open land, doubts came in to the scarred head of Cooper Howard. There was the persisting thought of never being there in the long run. If being feral doe not get him, it is going to be someone else. Or he will just have his body shut down because even he does not know what is going to happen exactly. Or maybe she would realize that being with a ghoul is more of a hinderance rather than a benefit.

“Hey,” she jolted him out of his thoughts, “you alright there, baby? You left for a little while.” Her voice was honey sweet, and lace with concern as she observed her partner.

“Course I’m alrigh’. Let’s go.” He trudged on ahead, leaving the woman to catch up to him yet again. Once in town, they took inventory of what was around them. A few street vendors for food and crafts, a medical shop, a bar, and a little inn that was left from the old days. Walking into the doctor's place, the sterile smell was a welcomed change of pace from the dirty way of. life outside these white walls. Their boots clicked against the hard floor as the saddled up to the counter.

“We don't take your kind here, Ghoul. Go somewhere else.” A man behind the counter spoke, looking up from his ledger. His eyes scanned the deformed man before his gaze landed on the woman next to him.

“Now what can I help you with, little lady?” He leered, teeth yellowed beyond saving in his smile.

“Sixty vials of chems. Now.” She stated. Her face was devoid of any emotion other than contempt. But the man in front of her only saw that as a challenge, while the Ghoul watched.

“Oh. I think we can strike up a deal. Just for you of course.” Once more, he tried to make himself more appealing than he actually was.

“Chems for caps. I have no interest in a man that looks, smells, and acts worse than the foulest of ghouls.” She said bluntly and watched the man's face fall. He shuffled around quietly and produced the sixty vials they requested.

“Sixty chems for one hundred twenty caps.” The doctor eyed the woman nervously for her next movement.

“That sign out front says ‘five chems for three caps.’ Now, the only you're gettin’ a hundred twenty caps from me, is if you supply the appropriate amount of chems. Now, here's thirty-six caps for sixty chems.” Tossing the bottle caps on the counter, the woman kept them just out of reach until the doctor produced what he had promised. He kept to himself while working on grabbing the vials. Once they had swapped hands, she tipped her hat as the duo walked outside.

“Pleasure doin’ business with you.” And with that, they left. She passed the chems to Cooper so he could replenish but he just stood there dumbfounded.

“The hell was that?” He questioned, voice tinged in false fury.

“That was me getting your meds. What's the problem?” She pushed back, wondering what was going on with the Ghoul.

“Why didn't you want him?” Cooper's quiet voice whispered as he kept his eyes to the ground.

“Whatcha talkin’ about baby? What do you mean?” Stepping closer, she tried to get him to look up but to no avail.

“You could have your choice of man. Even one not so… deformed. What are you even doing with me anyways?” There goes his barriers yet again. Howard had perfected building the walls back up around his heart when they would fall down in front of her. But she just stepped closer to him, and pressed her fingerless gloves hand to his cheeks so that she could look in his eyes.

“Coop, I don't want no one else but you,” she started, “I don't want someone not deformed. Most of these men are far uglier inside then out. I can deal with someone not attractive to most people. He just needs to be attractive to me.” By the time she had finished, Cooper was looking her in the eye, and feeling himself crumble.

“Now you gonna make this old cowpoke go soft which is not gonna be too good now, sweetheart.” He drawled out, resting his hands on her hips softly. Pulling her even closer, they stood underneath their hat brims for a moment.

“That's okay. As long as that cowpoke knows I ain't goin’ nowhere for no one. And I'll continue to make sure he believes and knows that. No self doubt on that front. Not on my watch.” She replied, saying them ever so softly.

“What's you say we try and find us a nice spot to camp tonight? Wanna be able to treat you for bein’ oh so kind.” Cooper smirked, finally Slipping right back into the charming ghoul she knew and loved.

“Lead the way, partner.”

#rebelliousstories #writing #cooper the ghoul howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #cooper howard imagine #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul fallout #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul #fallout imagine #fallout

481 notes · View notes

phantomsies · 15 days ago

Text

𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖘 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘 | 𝖆. 𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖑𝖊𝖗𝖙

spending the evening with a man who could have any girl he wants but he proves why it’s always been you…

producer/nepobaby armin, musician au, black fem reader, dancer!reader (reader is in Pole Assassins), soft sex, back scratching, lots of intimacy, slow kissing, oral sex (f. receiving) body worship, banter between armin and reader, missionary, creampie, slow build/burn (?)

I’ve been suffering from a severe case of armin brain rot lately and I’ve been missing the musician au even more!! this is a reupload from my patreon so if you read this, no you didn’t! 🫶🏾

═✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿═══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

He’d traveled the world once over…experienced a lifetime full of adventures at only a mere two decades into his life. From sailing on yachts as a child, exploring the ocean in between piano lessons and algebra courses…to making music with his friends that would touch the lives of people in every nation and becoming a household name in the process. However, Armin Artlert’s notoriety had transcended that of just playlists and edits by adoring fans. He harbored a reputation that had come to precede him throughout his duration as an artist and internet sensation. The infamous ArminHammer was notorious for two things: iconic instrumentals and his expansive roster of women. Every girl of every variety was at his disposable..models, strippers, actresses, singers, the single mom who happened to attend one of their shows and needed a good time. He wasn’t picky nor did he allow preference to stand in the way of fulfilling his carnal desires. Make no mistake, he didn’t dog his women out or harm them..hell, if anything, he made every girl he encountered feel like a princess. Spoiling them with gifts, expensive dinners and of course, the best sex you’d ever experience! To put it even more bluntly, the man fucked like a professional..he was skilled in many areas and the bedroom happened to be the top.

But perhaps, that was the issue…he was the ideal man in every essence of the word. He’d make any lady feel as if she’d met her prince charming!..

….so how could you ever believe him when he said that you were the one he’d been searching for this entire time?

How could you possibly think that you’d be the sole object of his affection when it seemed those regards could be said of any women who’d crossed his path? Honestly, there was no definite answer to convince you otherwise. Armin was aware that you’d always kept your ear to the streets and had been informed about how he operated. That was all but confirmed when your teammate and friend began dating his childhood homie. Another infamous artist by the name of EJ the Don. Much like the woman who had founded the very group you were a part of, the Pole Assassins, EJ was seen as the proverbial leader of his own collective, Dead Boys Society and although they both despised the labels, you still respected her as such.

you could also sense that Armin held the same regard for his best friend and fellow artist. He looked up to Eren and admired how focused, driven and goal oriented he was in his craft. Most importantly though, he admired the way he loved..

EJ was never known to be a romantic nor was he known to be entrenched in the dating scene, but once he began dating your team mate, he had transitioned into an entirely different man. One that was attentive, doting and even a little jealous. He was openly affectionate with her and never thought twice about it. Gushing about her in interviews, where prior, he would’ve never even mentioned a woman besides his mom. It was that complete switch that had activated something within Armin as well. What he had been seeking in multiple girls could only be found in one place and that was with (y/n) (l/n). He’d spent all this time around you and had found himself falling deeper for you than he had anyone else. Your laugh, your energy, your spirit and kind heart had all enraptured the heart of the notorious playboy. And you couldn��t fool yourself either..you’d become smitten with him just the same…however, you were guarded. You weren’t so far deluded in the fantasy of being with him that you’d soon forgotten his reputation! You weren’t perfect by a long shot either..God knows, you’d partaken in your fair share of hookups and dated a couple of athletes just to say you did. Even so, you felt a hint of insecurity. How could you ever satisfy his cravings when he’d sampled the whole platter?! That was a question you’d soon find the answer to when you decided to spend a weekend at his home. A lofty, luxurious penthouse that overlooked the city and beaches of the sunny Miami, Florida.

it was a beautiful place and one of the many pieces of real estate owned by the Artlert conglomerate. One thing you’d come to learn about Armin was that music was nothing more than a beloved hobby. As much as he poured into his craft, his financial situation wouldn’t waver in the slightest if he were to stop today. He’d grown up with billionaires for family and that generational wealth had certainly trickled down. Regardless, it wasn’t his sole identity, hence why it’d never arise in conversation. It was blatantly obvious in his lifestyle choices but he was still that innocent, nerdy, wide eyed boy he’d always been to his core. The sensitive, kind, gentle Armin that only a select few witnessed. That was the side he wanted you to see here tonight..

so as you traipsed across the marble accented floors and art littered walls of his penthouse..all the way to his bedroom, you’d realize that you were where you belonged.

“You coming to lie down, beautiful? You’ve been in there forever.”

“Just a few more minutes, I promise! I wanna make sure I’m looking right.”

honestly, he didn’t understand all of the trouble. He’d seen you fully nude and completely clothed..you were beautiful no matter the form. Hell, you could come out in a plastic bag and pair of Timberlands and he’d still be hungry for you! He loved you dearly and nothing could dare to change that fact now! But after you two had retreated to his bedroom after an evening out on the town and he’d longed since undressed, you insisted on going to the bathroom and freshening up with a shower before retreating to bed. However, there was one more

“Well hurry up, please. I miss you..” stating in a whiny tone as he flailed himself against the mattress. Arms stretched out atop the pillow as his shirtless top half grazed the sheets. His designer boxers rubbed viciously with the silk bed linen, causing a bit of friction. Outside of the glass window pane, fell heavy droplets of pouring rain to set the already sensual mood. Electronic candles flickered in the corner and soft melodies of R&B played from the mounted television. It was certainly a vibe that you could become accustomed to. Across from where he lay, sat a half empty bottle of Modavi and two glasses that had been previously filled with the liquid. You were both feeling a bit tipsy from the substances coursing your veins so it was apparent what the mood was for the evening. He couldn’t bear to wait a moment longer and fortunately for him, you didn’t keep him held up. Because it was as he was getting ready to lie back down, he’d hear the faint tapping of footsteps against the tile and be greeted with a sight that would soothe his soul and sore eyes alike…

“Well I’m sorry to keep you waiting ..” flashing him a cheeky smile in regards to his earlier comment. Instantly, his jaw fell slack and his top half arose from the bed to examine you over.

“Oh my—you look—…. damn, I can’t even talk. You got me speechless, girl.”

sending you into a fit of giggles as you showed off your ensemble for him. A sheer white, lace two piece with garters that wrapped your thick thighs, a thong that was swallowed up by those round cheeks and a bra that accentuated your voluptuous breasts..causing them to sit upright. You were glistening with oil, and that luscious brown skin shimmered in the candlelight. Those forty inches of black curls were styled into an updo atop your head, along with that diamond necklace he had procured for you a few weeks ago. Even this was a first for Armin..he’d spent his fair share of evenings with the ladies but it always involved moments of rushed disrobing and him trying to get in their pants as quickly as possible. He didn’t waste time with lingerie or fancy frills because the goal was to grant her the best sex possible. Of course, he obtained gratification from this as well..but sometimes, he craved more. More than just the act of sex itself…it was intimacy he desired. The subtle touches and little gestures that helped to curate that special moment..he wanted to take his time and give you an experience that you’d soon yet forget.

“..then I guess it was worth the trouble..” his reaction elicited a light chuckle as you veered over to the bed, crawling onto the mattress and into the embrace of your precious lover. It was warm, inviting almost…strangely enough, an unwavering sense of safety crept over you as well. All of those previous thoughts of insecurity and jealousy seemed to dissipate once his hands coiled your body. He’d pull you in a little closer, squeeze you a little tighter and when his lips finally clashed with your own, every worry that had plagued either of your worlds were mere afterthoughts.

“God, you’re so beautiful..I swear you wear the hell out of everything you put on..”

“You’re too charming for your own good, you know that? It’s gon’ get you in trouble one day.”

“I like the sound of that.”

the tender and humorous moment was shared underneath the flickering candlelight as your flesh melded into one. Sitting upright in a cross legged position, your calves coiled his lower back and your arms cradled the back of his neck. Meanwhile, his hands resided around your waist and maintained a firm grip. He could hear your sentiment but even he grew skeptical at times. He often worried would his past elude him and ruin any potential future he could procure with you. All of his other prospects were nothing more than fleeting memories now. Even for someone as confident and skilled as Armin was, he experienced any other emotion just the same..maybe even more. Regardless, you’d continue to quell his anxiety and ease any doubt in his mind that you were leaving anytime soon. With those soft touches and gentle kisses, slowly but surely, you’d melt away all that rattled his mind. Eventually, your tongues would find home within one another’s mouths, initiating a series of sloppy pecks in process. It was then that you’d also begin to feel the thin straps of that top gliding down your shoulder blade. He just wanted to make you feel the best you had in a long time and he’d take as long as he needed to fulfill that obligation. He owed it to you for all of the insurmountable love you’d given him.

“Armin…baby..”

a faint whisper escaped your now freed lips as he latched onto your neck following the broken kiss. He’d gently suckle on that deep colored flesh and leave a trail of pecks along your jugular vein, even along your earlobe…it was there that he’d merely nip at the skin and whisper into it. Which sent a barrage of tingles all over your body.

“Yes, sweetheart? Something on your mind?”

“Ahh—“ “..words, baby. Let me hear that shit.”

that lilt in his tone, a clear indicator that he was going to relentlessly tease you from here on out. You always became so anxious when he did but the buildup made the actual moments all the more worth it. “You can tell me anything you want, pretty girl. This is all for you..your space. Whatever you say…I’ll do it.” His words serve to entice you further, which took little to no effort at all. You were already sucked in with no chance of being free of his clutches anytime soon. As for your requests, it was easy.

“Just…make me feel good, please..make love to me..”

it was a definite statement; one he understood loud and clear. Now wasn’t the time to be prideful or allow his ego to cloud his perception. Rather than showing off, Armin wanted to fully submit himself to you and to the cause of giving you whatever your heart…and body desired. With that, you’d find yourself shrouded in another round of kisses, this time along your shoulder blades and eventually to those soft breasts. Gently kneading them between his fingertips, he’d circle the buds with his thumb and watch as they’d grow erect. “Mmmm..” “..that feels good, sweetheart?” Following his question with a whimpering nod as you examined his movements. He’d gently squeeze them together and massage them all over, just to make you feel more at ease. He always did love how supple and perky they were..how they sat so perfectly in your tops or dresses. He’d learned to view the female body as more than just a vessel of pleasure but instead, for the work of art it is. You were his divine masterpiece..his treasure and he wanted to appreciate every single square inch of your physique. Even the areas you didn’t exactly appreciate yourself…

“Good..I know how sensitive they are but that’s okay. I’ll be gentle.” Chuckling at your very visible reactions of having your nipples played with. It was your most erogenous area and he knew it’d only be a matter of time before you became even more aroused. That much was indicated by the way you ground your clothed slit into the mattress. (Y/N) eventually tossed your head back, rolling it onto your shoulders and emitting a sharp gasp. An expected reaction to all of the sensual friction and stimulation. None of which was lost on Armin. He’d shift a bit in his own positioning, attempting to conceal that obvious erect. This was a fine solely for your pleasure and needs. His urges could wait as far as he was concerned. He was determined to prove that he was fully and utterly devoted to you right now. The sounds of melodic love songs and pouring rain would continue to serve as the soundtrack to this precious moment. Right along with your sweet moans and his subtle grunts. You’d glance down to see the rising tent within his boxers as he began to lap all over your areolae and suckle on your brown buds. “Your tits are so perfect, angel. I love them so much..I love all of you. Every single part..” Constantly doting as he persisted..that’s when you’d reach down and grasp for that sheathed cock but he’d be equally as quick to stop you.

“Ignore it, okay? Right now is about you. I’m focused on making you feel good, just like I promised. You don’t need to do a thing.” This was what you appreciate about your man. He had such a calm, gentle demeanor. Something people would often mistake as sensitive or meek. But in the same vein, he could harness that into a dominant, masculine energy that required no assertiveness. You felt safe..secure within that space. You felt comfortable submitting yourself fully to him.

“It’s like you're everything I’ve ever prayed for..I’m so lucky.” Akin to that of a groom bedding his bride on the night of their wedding, Armin would lie his precious girl flat against the mattress and begin his descent down your body. Examining each line, touching each bump and worshiping every curve as if they were a gift from the heavens above. They certainly weren’t things that he took for granted. Especially when he finally made home with that divine center…spreading open your trembling thighs; courtesy of the gentle kisses and drawn out licksthat had been peppered all over your belly. “Mmmm…I love when you touch me like this. You always know what to do..” placing his thumbs along your pantyline, he’d rub your hips before placing two fingertips along the seat of your bottoms. “Of course, I told you…I’ll do whatever you want. All you gotta do is say it.” Naturally, the entire area was soaked and only accruing more stickiness the more he stroked your clothed bud. In an attempt to increase the friction and pleasure riddling your body, Armin would hone in on the clit and massage it until he felt you shaking in his grasp.

“Oh my God..” “Rub your nipples for me, sweetheart. I wanna see you get there so bad but I don’t want to rush..not right now.” Finally, he’d cease his teasing and peel back that thin layer of fabric, revealing your plump mound and lips, along with that swollen clit. You were practically throbbing and the second he grazed your skin, you’d instinctively contract. Those juices were already leaking before he could even think to touch or lap at the area. Meanwhile, you’d pinch and pull at the now stiffened buds on your chest, writhing in the sheets as you chewed at your lip. “You’re so cute when you make that face.” Chuckling whilst teasing the hard little pearl that had caused your entire body to heat up. “Aw, you just want that nut, don’t you, baby?” “Fuck—uh, yes..please.” Immediately shuttering at the idea of ruining such a sensual moment with profanity. However, Armin didn’t mind at all. In fact, it further encouraged him to get you there. “I know you do…I wanna give it to you so bad too..”

Normally, this was an opportunity he’d utilize to tease you relentlessly. Holding out on providing you with your orgasm, making you wait before he even made the slightest of movements…all of it in an attempt to get you riled up. Right there on the edge until you finally broke, all but pleading with him to give you what you wanted. But tonight?

“Ahh!—haaaa..yes..” “Uh, fuck…lemme taste you…please lemme eat this puss—“ his words trailing off into mere whiny drabble as his lips made home on your lower ones. Immediately, those pretty blue eyes of his were fixated on you as he delved into your center. The sounds of slurping and whimpering emitting from his mouth and only growing louder. With your legs parted on each side, (y/n) grasped the top of Armin’s head; clawing at those shaggy blonde curls whilst grinding yourself against his face. “Arminnnn…oh my gosh…right there.” Those moans would draw out into a high pitched wail. One that caused your legs to tremble and nearly retract around his head. But alas, that just wasn’t possible. With one fell swoop and only a single hand, he’d pin your thighs back and continue devouring your cunt. As his opposite one was preoccupied with stroking his own shaft. It was something about your scent, flavor and your sex that got him all aroused. Nonetheless, Armin would resume his feast..flicking gently on your clit, sucking your plump lips and even shoving a digit into your tight hole. Only coming up for air to check in on you..

“Something on your mind, pretty girl? Talk to me..”

“N—need you…need you in me so bad…oh fuck..”

although the sentence was a bit incoherent, your desires were heard loud and clear. Although Armin loved the idea of relentlessly teasing you, he also wasn’t much in the way of restricting you from your happiness either. If that was what you wanted, he was elated to fulfill the request. In what seemed to almost be a slight of hand movement, he’d maneuver and rise from where he was laying and would scoop your legs up in the process. He’d position them straight in the air and pin them together. Eventually placing them over his shoulder. “You need me? You want it that bad, sweetheart?” Cooing and questioning with a rhetorical tone. Meanwhile, he was hovering above you, positioned on his knees whilst that cock head teased against your slit. He already knew the answer and as far as he was concerned, it was yours. But he needed to hear you say it. Not just for the consensual aspect, but because it was what he’d been waiting for all along. Hearing you beg, plead and whimper for him….this entire time, he’d been so used to your independent nature, that there was rarely an instance where you relied on him. You were so far capable of handling your own, that he or no other man were truly necessary in your daily way of life. But right here…in this moment, in this bedroom and this space the two of you had curated together..

“Y-yes, please!..I need you. I can’t take it..”

he was your everything. Your one and only sole object of affection. With your gazes fixated on one another, you’d nod your head and coo to one another, whimpering until suddenly—

“Yeah?” “Mmmm…please!”

you’d feel that stiffened, aching cock glide between your warm, silky folds and remained nestled there whilst he gathered his footing. Normally, he’d take an opportunity to perhaps gloat or be cocky. Fucking you with a giant grin on his face, making your pleasure a second priority. But alas, he’d never be so arrogant or foolish right now..because only moments later, his head had rolled back on his shoulders and as he remained nestled within you, he’d release a heavy gasp. He couldn’t maintain his eye contact when you felt this good. Your pussy resembled that of a warm blanket or hug..inviting him in and never wanting to pull away. However, he’d refrain from such lewd obscenities and fill your head with more loving compliments instead. As you’d lie there, awaiting his next move, you’d feel a hand planted into the center of your tummy and his hips beginning to buck forward..gently pounding into you.

“Oh God…yes..I love the way you feel, baby. You’re so warm.. ‘s so good..”

meanwhile, all he could do was howl it to the air because he knew that if he even took so much as even a glance in your direction, his load would be buried three inches into your womb right now. He was adamant of taking his time because all of his undivided and full attention; along with every second he could spare…belonged to you. He was all yours, hopelessly to a fault. He had released fear..anxiety or the shame that came with being madly in love.

“Ahhh…Armin..right there..please don’t stop..”

“I know, baby. I know…I can feel you squeezing me, that’s your spot, isn’t it?”

it was a given..not only had your body become riddled with ecstasy but he could tell by the way you pawed at his abs that he’d reached that core. Smacking sounds had arisen from the creamy mess he’d made of your lower half. Sucking his teeth, Armin finally garnered the strength to peer down at you and once he did, he nearly lost all control and restraint. His strokes would become a little faster and stretch your tight little cunt in the process. Your legs, that once made home on his shoulders, were now pinned back nearly behind your head. A position he was certain you had no issue maintaining. Even so, it didn’t stop your from crying out to him..heaving and whimpering. He was worried that perhaps, he hadn’t regulated his own strength. But rather than an expression of pain, you were smiling!..grinning from ear to ear with tears rolling down your face. It was a sign that you were in complete climatic bliss.

“Y-yes..you're in my spot, baby. And it feels so fucking good…nobody can make me feel like this..” eventually reaching down to stroke your sensitive bud to aid in the pleasure. That gave him all the confirmation he needed to persist, even when he felt he’d reach his breaking point sooner rather than later. Breaking into a smile of his own, Armin would resume his deep thrusts, this time with a bit more speed and rhythm. His hips would roll fluidly as he pushed in and out; dragging more of your juices and secretions along with him. He felt as if he could conquer the world when you said things like that. “That’s right, sweetheart..I know it’s a lot but I know you’re the only one who can handle it..who can take this dick like it’s nothing.”

those words cause you to twitch and grip him even tighter. In that moment, he nearly faltered but it was also in that instance that the two of you established full blown eye contact and mere seconds later, your lips had met in a passionate crash. Only after you exchanged doting words.

“..I love you. I love you so much, (y/n)..”

“I love you too, baby! Oh my gosh, please don’t stop.”

the bed had begun to jolt against the wall whilst his tattooed knuckles gripped the headboard. Eventually, he’d collapse fully into your grasp, relinquishing this idea of full control and allowing himself to be a part of the moment. No need to establish dominance or submission..who was the better lover or even what past partners had done. But instead, embracing each other and becoming one. One body, one soul and one heart. You’d wrap your arms and legs around his frame as he continued feeding you those strokes..his face buried into the crook of your neck and your hands clawing his inked up back.. You’d coo into his ear, listening to his whimpers and inform him that it was okay for him to let go. That he didn’t have to hold back so that he could appear as this strong guy with tons of stamina. You took it as a compliment that he could go for that long, honestly..it was a far cry from his past hookups, that was for certain!..but so much more was at stake here than merely who reached their orgasm first. It was about sharing in ecstasy and concealing your love with a special moment.

“You wanna come, angel? You can if you’re ready, no need to hold back..”

“Come with me, please..same time, okay?”

declaring so confidently as you heaved into one another’s ears. He’d agree and mere seconds later, that speed and pace had reached maximum heights and it felt as if he were hammering into you. “F-fuck!..” “Shit!..I’m coming, sweetheart!..coming for y—“ it was in that exact moment, that it felt as if the world was shattering for the both of you. That something inside of your bodies had essentially broken and neither of you could hold back. Both of your eyes shoot wide open before they shut and you’d embrace each other for comfort. Your juices had splattered all over his cock and his warm seed had completely coated the inside of your womb.. neither of you could even function at this point. Just reduced to mindless babble and tears. He’d finally rise from your neck and greet you with disheveled hair, a beet red face and a toothy grin. Along with those fallen tears.

“C’mere..I need a kiss..”

“Of course..”

your soft features and brown eyes met his and the two of you collided with one last declaration of adornment. Lips and tongues meeting in a fit of desperation. Desperation to never be apart again. For as long as you were both of this world, you’d spend every waking moment wanting to be together. And there wasn’t a single thing that could break that.

“You have no idea how much you mean to me..I just want us to be like this forever. I love you..” and you’d cling to every single word. Knowing that they rang true, now more than ever. Stroking his head as he lies on your chest. There were times that Armin figured that he’d never find his one and only..that he was destined to be a bachelor until he left this earth and he was adamant that one woman couldn’t possibly supplement for having his fill of multiple.

“And we can stay just like this…I’m not going anywhere.”

but it was nights like this..that reminded him that he was exactly where he needed to be!

270 notes · View notes

textmel8r · 22 days ago

Text

HOLY RETRIBUTION. geto

(3.5k) non sorcerer bitches’ only use is to choke on pp or something like that

↝ cw . fem reader , reader def mentally unwell , extremely dubious consent , sadism , blow job , extreme degradation , cult leader geto , condom stays on because geto doesn’t wanna touch you lowly non sorcerer ew , facial , gagging , he legit almost kills reader with cock like,, chill girl

↝ an . this is so embarrassing guys im still taking time off but i was looking through my drafts and i wrote this so long ago for @inciseleviathan and i just never posted it so here are crumbs because you all are so nice to me. this is my first stand alone oneshot(n like first time i’ve ever written a sub reader…. i was shaking the entire time) + it was written so longgggg ago its so bad im sorry levi i suck butt at writing geto

↝ join my discord server! we share headcanons, fanfic recs, color roles, and more drooling emoji

“Welcome, F/n L/n.”

You stand there, letting the heavy door to his room swing shut on its own. With a curt nod, you offer a gentle reply. “To be in your presence like this is an honor.”

Geto sits before you, spread-thigh and wide on his personal throne. A large, cushiony loveseat crafted from royal purple leather, its seams stitched in yellow twine. Resting an elbow on its arm, the man cradles his chin in the dip of a palm and regards you with an uninterested gaze. A stark contrast to the ways in which stars inhabit your eyes when you look toward him. Like you love him or something. Utterly pathetic.

You move, bending a knee toward the ground, but Geto halts you. “Not yet.” So you rise back up to your feet. The obedience is appreciated; Geto enjoys this dynamic, holding the reins to your useless body. You’re the type to relinquish control in the face of high beings, he can practically smell the submission that permeated your aura. Geto smirks behind the fingers that cage his jaw. “So eager to sing praises.”

As if it was the most obvious thing in the world, you nod. “To you? Of course.”

“So I’ve seen. Your latest donations have been entirely too generous.” Cheekily, he giggles. “Does my cause really mean that much to you? Or were you just hoping to catch my attention?”

“I am just a humble follower looking to support,” you reply, bowing your neck. “I don’t want my actions to be misconstrued, this hasn’t been some sort of attempt to get in closer with you. I swear it.”

The devotion is so potent, it sends his nose wrinkling. “Raise your head. I told you it’s not time to pay obeisances yet.” Your head snaps forth, Geto can see the lump get swallowed down your throat. The hand he held to his face drops, and up the man sits, straightening his shoulders. Widening himself in all the ways similar to a predator intimidating its prey. “You’re not a sorcerer.”

You avert your eyes, bearing the shame in all its glory. “That’s right.”

“You’re not much of anything, are you?” Not much besides a wimpy money bag he could suck dry.

Again, you wilt. “No, Master Geto.”

It’s unbearable, the way you crumple so easily. Geto expected more, expected a little banter. Maybe a sweet smile, like all the other women liked to flash him with. A lame attempt at flirtation, to be likely shrugged off without a hitch. But this? This is utterly pathetic.

Geto’s grin is forged in desolate disgust, eyes lidded and neck craned forward. “Step forward, will you please?” That sullen face, he must see it up close. Such a familiar expression, depression carved into the permanent frown lines that hang near the corners of your chapped lips. He knows them too well. Knows the dark circles and the permanent pout. “Look at me, and tell me what’s been troubling you.”

You stand closer, before his throne with awkwardly stiff posture. He awaits your answer patiently, calmly, giving you time to take several wet, wavering breaths of courage. “Do you see room for someone like me in your ideal world?” The question quivers with diffidence, those fingers of yours clawing restlessly into the hem of your worn sweater. “Someone… Someone as…” You struggle to find the word. “Unusable as me?”

He bites his lower lip. He has to, to stave off the cacophony of cackles knocking at the back of his teeth. “Unusable?” From an objective standpoint, you are wholly purposeless in his blueprint for the new world. A non sorcerer would only serve to poison the bloodline, it would never work. So he lies: “Please mind your tone. I don’t appreciate you speaking about my most faithful and devout subscriber like that.”

There is a moment of disbelief that glints happily in your somber, little eyes. The ghost of a smile echoes against your lips, weary, like you refuse to let yourself relish in feeling good. “Do you mean that?” There is a lilt of desperation lacing your words, like you need them to be true for your life’s sake.

“I mean everything I say.” Oh, the irony. “Put your worries to rest, my dear. Your Master will always find a place for you.”

“I’m—uhm, may I bow now?” You sniffle and—here come the sweet tears, collecting in glassy beads, pulling down your lower lashes. “I’d like to bow, please.”

Still smiling, Geto shifts in his comfortable seat. The wooden zori sandals on his feet scrape against the traditional wooden floorboards as he widens his thighs graciously. A vacant space between his open legs that he points to; “kneel.”

There is a handful of seconds you spend hesitating, but you comply. You always do.

“You’ve come to worship.”

“Yes.”

Your head blooms up towards him, as if Geto was the very sun. He studies, finding a deranged eroticism in the way your cheeks glisten under the warm, golden light of his room lamps. They’re sodden with tears of gratitude; gratitude towards him. Geto touches himself, a hand flattened against his own hulking thigh. Rubbing down towards his knee, then back up near his hip. A subtle gesture indicating the change in mood.

“You know how I accept reverence.” That roaming palm of his dips down to swipe along the inside of his thigh. “Show me your glory and your love.”

Fatigue thrives in your movements. Slow as molasses, you shimmy your sweater up your torso, then over your head. Your undershirt comes off next, and his nods. “Bra too.” Your glory. Your love. You look pained, but strip nonetheless, discarding the underwear to the pile of clothes behind you. Geto makes a pleased grunt, subjecting your bare chest to his own minute of silent examination. He lets you stew in a pit of humility, glancing away while he strokes his sensitive spots to your frigid nudity. “You’re gorgeous.”

Embarrassed and short, “thank you, Master Geto.”

“There has never been a non sorcerer as beautiful.”

You wither, curling deeper in on yourself. With what? Discomfort? Or maybe chagrin, Geto muses. For such a useless bitch, you had a decently quick mind. He has no doubts that you sense the bullshit he hawks with all this sentimental beautiful garbage, as if he doesn’t sell every spineless broad that line. “Thank you, Master Geto.”

You know this, and still you donate. Still, you come back to service him.

Thick robes bunch up around the circumference of his waist. Geto’s erection was prominent, even though the bagginess of his bontan pants. It’s a visible hard-on, stiff and poking out towards you. He massages his rod through his clothes, still watching you. The way you sit there and take it, let him beat off to your pitiful tears because this is how he’s trained his members to properly worship… “You must enjoy this,” he poses, breathy.

“I… do.” Hesitance again.

“Don’t you?” Geto presses, constricting the clothed head of his cock in a bruising grip. “This is a privilege. This is sacred.” He reaches for his pocket, nabs the tin package and fishes it out. A condom—he expected this from you today. Ever the greedy slut, or so he’d make you feel like you were despite your apprehension. “You should be grateful to receive my love.”

“You don’t love me…”

Truthful, he could never love something as insignificant as you. But he’d never say that aloud. “I love you,” Geto lies so easily it nearly scares himself. He loves you, he loves the troubled non sorcerer who came to him yesterday, he loves the one that came the day before that, and so forth. The man splits golden foil with his teeth, plucking out the condom and tucking the litter back into his pocket. “I love you,” Geto reiterates, reaching into his pants and pulling his hardness out over the waistband. “I love you,” he says one more time, while holding himself firm in one hand, rolling a sheath onto himself with the other. It’s purple latex, strangulating his shaft all the way down to his pulsing balls. The appendage hangs heavy between his legs, and you gawk at its every minute twitch.

“You…” You flounder, stumbling over words. “Are we g-going to have…?”

“Have sex?” You nod, and Geto casts a scornful gaze upon you. “And disrespect the sanctity of my clerical celibacy? I should bleed you for thinking something so ridiculous.” Geto took an oath, a vow of abstinence and truth be told, he upholds that vow. Though, perhaps it’s his aversion to touching ordinary people that is the reason he’s made good on his sacred promise thus far. He can’t stomach the idea of flesh to non sorcerer flesh.

“I’m sorry. I just assumed, w-with the protection.”

Geto takes his dick, pumping slowly. “You understand my caution. I don’t want our skin to meet, it’s unnatural.” Still masturbating himself, he huffs, “Tell me you understand.”

You nod absentmindedly, maybe even a little hurt, he thinks. “I understand.”

Geto smiles kindly, puffing out a cute chuckle. “Good.” He shakes his cock, wags it around in your face like he’s teasing a puppy with a piece of meat. “Go on, then. Idolize me with your mouth.”

He doesn’t moan—Geto never moans when he gets licked by useless bitches. It’s unexcitable, your perturbed kitten licks, nervously laving around the crown of his cock head like you’re afraid it’ll grow teeth and bite back. Brilliantly ordinary, and his jaw tenses in sexual irritation.

“I said to idolize me.”

“I’m trying!” And there you go, crying again. He throbs at the lowly mess of tears and snot and humiliation you wallow in, jaw shivering in quiet sob. “I’m trying, I promise!”

“Maybe you really are unusable…” He mutters as though he hasn’t already come to that conclusion thirty minutes prior. “Cannot even lick right.”

You plummet into a deeper bow, clammy forehead sticking to the filthy ground at his feet. It’s an abhorrent sight to see, and he watches with stone-face stoicism as you grovel. “I’m sorry!” Your shoulders stutter with each cry wracking your lungs, “I’m sorry, Master!”

He lets you spill tears, watching and waiting with his cheek perched against his balled fist. For fuck’s sake, he curses himself for overestimating your brittle psyche. Had that morose little visage you wore not been so devastatingly provocative, so worth salivating over, he’d have given you the boot already. Finally, Geto yields, nudging the back of your skull with the sole of his sandal. “Sit up.”

As always, even in your worst states of mental stress, you abide by his words. His law. Bare chest presented to him again, and Geto sighs, pleased. You really were a sexy thing, all squishy and damp and so very sick. The struggle will be worth it. “Good,” he praises loosely, “good.”

“I’m sorry,” you say again, voice reduced to a wet, little whisper.

Geto is quick to shake his head. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“But I can’t make you…”

“Make me cum?”

You fluster at his bluntness, but nod sheepishly. “Not today.” Your eyes, they scamper to your top, forsaken to the floor. He sees the way you long to grab your sweater. “I don’t think I can today.”

“Today is as good a day as any.” Geto will not accept your retreat. Not now, not when his crotch yearns for the warmth of an esophagus. That plastic smile never wavers; it sticks to Geto’s lips like tar, mouth corners sharp as shards of glass. He cinched the muscles at his waist, his groin, and made his dick jump. It bobs, up and down and up, and the man sighs. “Can’t you see how it aches for you?”

You bear a grimace, looking past the swelling thing to regard Geto with empathetic eye contact. “It… Does it hurt?”

“So much, I can barely stand it.” And the way you show your guilt so transparently has Geto’s intestines whirring. Because you wouldn’t do anything to cause pain to your Master. So sweet of you, honest. Still, he siphons your half assed consent by challenging that unshakable compassion within you. “Do you want me to hurt?”

“No,” the answer is abrupt, eager. “No, never.”

So easy. “Then you must wish to remain useless to me.” Geto laughs dryly. “That must be it, isn’t it?”

Distress oozes in the way you lunge forward, a shaky hand quickly finding purchase around the girth of him, and he sighs one more. “No,” you protest again, “no, no I’m sorry. We can do this today.” Lips purse against his cockhead; Geto lets you press your stupid kisses to him, even if the stimulation is hardly good enough to consider it worthwhile.

“Settle down,” he commands gently, showering you in his pitying stare. “Do you need some help?”

“Yes, please, Master Geto.”

“Okay,” he softens to you. You’ll need every ounce of softness he decides to grant. He can feel that numbing chill torment his spine; despite the layers, Geto shivers with the weight of the chill. It’s a customary routine that has been written into his genetic code—to summon a curse was as easy as breathing. It’s an ugly thing, dispelling into the air, levitating above your crown like a fucked up halo. Vivid hues of sickly greens and oceanic blues meshed together in an amorphous, amalgamated fish-like curse. It blinks at him with one large, bloodshot eye, begging to be manipulated.

“Take a deep breath, and put me in your mouth.”

The trust you’ve invested into Geto must be researched. You complete his every whim, inhaling a gulp of oxygen before ducking down to take his thick head. It sits in your mouth, against the plate of your twitchy tongue, bracing for something to happen. Geto has you right where he needs you.

The curse sinks through the atmosphere, plummets down to latch onto the nape of your delicate neck. You don’t miss its noticeable weight, and your eyes widen comically as your skull begins the slow descent down his shaft. He feels the tip of himself prod the webby back of your mouth; you feel it as well, lurching upwards with a strangled gag.

He doesn’t feel sympathy. He doesn’t feel much of anything towards you besides twisted lechery, seeking rapture in every excruciating retch you shed on the impalement. It sickens him—when had he begun to seek release over women’s tears like this? At what point in his miserable existence did sex become a syrupy conduit to sadism?

“Do not vomit on me.”

Nails bleed into the meat of his shins. You clutch at them, scratching for mercy through a layer of cotton. Another disgusting gag vibrates his dick when your chin meets his balls. He breathes ragged, uneven breaths, watching with parted lips as his cursed spirit forces your nose into the wiry tuft of his pubic bush.

Visceral revulsion stickies Geto’s mouth. Your skin, your drool, it touches him. Rivulets of saliva and tears and sweat collect in the pit of his groin. “My love is in your throat.” The mess is hard to overlook, but Goddamn it, he can’t focus on anything past his own pleasure. A malevolent smirk is what Geto wears as he hunches forward. Chest heaving from over your head. “You’re turning blue.”

He giggles in excitement like a school boy, fixating on your struggle. Poor nostrils flared, and the frenzied inhaling tickles his sopping pubic bone. The claws in his legs grew weaker, your pupils rolling backwards and—oh no.

“Hey.” He lifts his hips, a quick and sharp thrust that knocks the consciousness back into your stupid brain. You choke violently, windpipe seizing so fucking nicely around him. “Hey. Wake up.”

Unintelligent babble fizzles out of you, and along with that, more globs of soapy spit. You’ve been shoved down for so deep, for so long, that Geto could actually get charged with battery assault. Or perhaps animal cruelty is more fitting for such a situation. As much as having your neck bulge like this really, really turns him on, Geto also needs you alive. Needs your income, your impressive donations.

“I’m ready to finish.” You must be so relieved, because you burst into tearful nods. “Let me have my way with you for a minute longer. That’s all I need.”

The cockwarming was a good preemptive to get the juices building, but Geto needs more to grab onto that climax. He needs more noises, and more struggling. He needs that repetitive back-and-forth of plunging a hole, the primal motion of pumping and pumping and pumping until he explodes. Leaning back and getting comfortable, Geto hoists his bulky thighs up and slides them onto the shelves of your bare shoulders. The angle is orgasmic like this, perfect trajectory to carve into the innermost core of your throat. Geto digs the heels of his stiff shoes into your upper back, and now, he points two lazy fingers towards the curse. A signal.

It grips your head, slimy body leeching between hair follicles, sucking onto your scalp. No warning permitted, the thing begins to oscillate in sporadic up-and-down movement. “Yes,” he cracks, infatuated by such a flawless display of submission. Your head gets bounced in his lap, mouth teeming with man and just giving in. Every single jolt and gasp and gag and sob and sniffle makes him preen, ass lifting to meet your vigorous throat with rough humps. “Fuck. I’m…”

It was a hasty in-the-moment decision when Geto exploits his curse, using it as a vestige for his impatient hands. The fish rips you from his cock, and you scramble to take in a glutinous gasp of spit-soaked fresh air. He’s on the edge, toeing the line of his orgasm, and in his lust, he kicks you back to the floor with his foot to your chestplate. Drained and malleable, dumb from his meat, you fall. Tits bouncing sluttily on your strident impact, and Geto wants to spank them ‘till they bruise.

He’s already doused in you. Your saliva coats him like a second layer of skin, soaking his pubes so grotesquely that he feels compelled to reciprocate. His knees slam down hard enough to creak the floorboards, bracketing your head as it lolls back limply. “You impressed me,” Geto murmurs, swallowing his repulsion to wade his fingers through your DNA as he strips that futile tube of latex from his erection. He splats it lusciously against your forehead where it lays almost as useless as you. “I’d be a fool to question your loyalties after that display."

“Ngh…” It’s a small chirp, a barely-there sign that you’re still alive. He coos, sitting upright to kneel above your fucked-out skull.

“I thought I was going to dislocate your jaw,” Geto laughs breathlessly. You don’t return his laughter. He masturbates himself, one hand stroking your spit down his length in rough tugs, the other resting below to palm his sack. “I’m sorry.”

You don’t reply. Hell, you barely move. That’s alright, Geto enjoys this visual all the same. He’s fucking his fist, choking out stuttered breaths, aiming himself inches away from your wet face. “I accept your reverence,” he pants, “this is your purpose. This is what you m-mean to me.”

Your purpose in his new world is no greater than a Kleenex. A rag for him to spend his seed on and then toss behind the bed. He cums with an obscene groan, thumb pushing down on his throbbing tip to funnel gooey semen into the sliver of openness between your dry lips. Geto’s jaw hangs for the entirety of his orgasm, massaging out every last drop of his essence to feed you. It spurts, some whipping out over your cheek, down your chin, into your nostril. You whine in exhaustion, not even trying to combat the cock spraying your face. He bites his lip.

“This is what you wanted, right?”

“...”

He shakes himself off, harvesting one last drip of cum that splashes against your upper lip, before tucking his ruined, slimy prick back into his pants. The urge to bathe bored into him; he was never a fan of that sticky post-sex grime, especially not a non sorcerer’s grime. “Well, this is what I wanted.” Geto stands in a smooth motion, despite his trembling thighs protesting. He cringes at the way his dick sticks to the fabric of his briefs.

“A-Are you l-leaving?” You ask, still lying unmoving in a puddle of fluids, shivering against the cold wood. Your words come out croaky and soft, and Geto suspects he might’ve bruised your voice box.

“I am.” You flinch at his shortness. “You should clean yourself up.”

And then he leaves, sliding the door to his room shut. Geto could’ve stayed. He could’ve found a towel somewhere around the estate, he could’ve held you in his lap and stroked your hair and wiped away the remnants of his orgasm from your ruddy cheeks. But why would he waste his time? None of that bullshit will change the fact that, aftercare or not, you’ll still come to him at the same time next week for your holy retribution.

You’re addicted to receiving his love, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#geto angst #suguru geto #geto x reader #geto smut #suguru smut #getou suguru x reader #jjk angst #jjk x y/n #jjk drabbles #jjk smut #getou smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic

321 notes · View notes

freyaphoria · 2 months ago

Note

I see the request is back to open AAAAA!

lately I've been imagining if mingi is good at sewing and it's his soft side (because I saw the FIX ON stuffs and wondering if he produces the stuff by himself), so he had a crush with yn but he is to shy to say it. when he saw yn kissed by his best friend yunho he became so madly jealous and feel guilty because he can't blame his best friend and got mad to yn instead.

by the next day he saw yn and yn is smiling at mingi as if nothing happened.... he wonders if those pretty lips could smile only at him, by sewing yn's lips.

Broken Doll

tw: dark fic!!!! Yan!Mingi, kidnapping, stitches, fainting, blood, kissing, obsessive behaviors, mingi is sooo delulu loll, restriction with handcuffs (let me know if I missed something)

wc: 2.7k

taglist: @aim-blossom @bambisd0ll @oddracha @peqchplvto @hwxbibi (dm me if you want to join the taglist)

Mingi stood in the dim light of his room, taking in the sight of his latest creation one final time. His fingers carefully traced the last knots and ties of the thread he had worked so diligently to secure. He let his eyes linger on the hoodie he had meticulously sewn just for you, its fabric soft and inviting, featuring his signature stitched phrase "fix on" that had become a signature of his work – it was the 47th item he had lovingly sewn with you in mind. With a careful motion, he folded the hoodie and placed it gently into the wardrobe he had designated exclusively for your clothes. Inside the closet, various dresses, t-shirts, skirts, coats, hoodies, and many other clothes were waiting, all sewn by him to fit your body and style perfectly. Mingi often daydreamed about the moment he would summon the courage to present these lovingly made items to you, to see you adorned in the clothes he had crafted with his own hands.

His eyes scanned the collection, trying to find which piece stood out as the most exquisite. If he were to gift you one tomorrow, which would be worthy of such an honor? Mingi's hand glided along the hangers, his fingertips brushing against the various fabrics. Despite the perfection he strived for in each garment, his eyes found minute imperfections in every piece. After careful consideration, he decided that the hoodie he had just completed would be the ideal first gift. It represented his most recent work, showcasing the refinement of his skills over time. The choice of your favorite color for the fabric and the elaborate embroidery of his "fix on" signature – a signature he had been incorporating into his creations for years – made it particularly special. The timing seemed perfect as well. With the weather turning cooler, gifting you the hoodie would allow him the pleasure of seeing you wear it. The thought of you wrapped in his handiwork sent a shiver of excitement through him.

This hoodie was not just a piece of clothing; it was a lasting impression of his feelings for you. He resolved that he wouldn’t postpone any longer; the next day would be the day he would finally tell you how he felt and present the hoodie to you. He had to stop his growing admiration for you from reaching a dangerous level, and the best way to do that was to tell you that he loved you.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

The following day, Mingi arrived on campus, his nerves frayed with anticipation. In his hands, he clutched the carefully wrapped gift, a physical manifestation of his affection. His body betrayed his anxiety – hands trembling, breath coming in short gasps, eyes heavy from a sleepless night spent rehearsing what he would say to you. As he scanned the familiar surroundings, he noticed something unusual: Yunho, his best friend and constant companion, was nowhere to be seen. This absence struck Mingi as odd. He and Yunho were practically inseparable, and it was unlike his friend not to check in with a simple "where are you?" message. As he walked, Mingi pulled out his phone and attempted to call Yunho, but there was no answer. His heart lowered slightly, as he could have used his friend's support and advice in this moment. Approaching the cafeteria, a familiar spot where they often met, he felt a surge of anticipation mixed with anxiety. He called Yunho again, hoping for a response, but what happened before him made his heart drop.

There, right in front of him, was Yunho, completely engrossed in a passionate kiss with you. You both looked so lost and passionate; Yunho’s hands were on your waist and your hands were tangled in Yunho’s hair. It took a moment, but when you caught sight of him standing there, your surprise registered on your face, and you instinctively pulled away from him; confusion clouded Yunho's face as he turned, suddenly locking gazes with his stunned friend.

In that moment, a whirlwind of emotions surged through Mingi – shock, betrayal, anger, and heartbreak collided within him. Despite the turmoil, Mingi didn't blame Yunho; after all, he had never told Yunho about his love for you. Yes, Yunho knew he was in love with someone, but Mingi had never said it was you. He didn't blame Yunho; if Yunho had known that Mingi was in love with you, he would never have done such a thing, Mingi was sure of that. All of Mingi's hurt and anger, therefore, became focused solely on you. Hadn't he made it clear before that he liked you? In his mind, he had made his feelings abundantly clear – the smiles, the shared class notes, the daily greetings. He believed his actions had spoken louder than words, making a formal confession almost unnecessary. But you, like a whore, had kissed his best friend, Yunho. Slut. How could you do this to Mingi? Despite all the clothes he had specially sewn for you, despite the masterpieces he had spent hours on, you had chosen his friend. Mingi could never forgive this.

You pulled away from Yunho's lips and smiled at Mingi. You fucking smiled. This had to be a joke, or Mingi must be having a terrible nightmare. Like a slut, you had cheated on him with his friend and then smiled to his face. That smile, which he had once found so endearing, now seemed to mock him. Mingi immediately left the cafeteria with growing anger and disappointment inside him and locked himself in the bathroom.

Of course, you and Yunho didn't understand what had happened. Mingi was just a friend to you, you had liked Yunho for weeks, and it was obvious that Yunho liked you too. Why had Mingi suddenly gotten angry and left? "Baby, let me check on Mingi." After Yunho kissed you one last time, you nodded, and with Yunho's leaving, you were left alone in the cafeteria.

Mingi's phone kept ringing with Yunho's missed calls, but Mingi didn't answer any of them. He wasn't angry at him; he just didn't know what to say to him. Mingi valued their friendship too much to risk saying something in the heat of the moment that he might later regret. You were the only one to blame here. You had gotten close to Yunho while Mingi was around, and on top of that, you had smiled at Mingi as if nothing had happened. A dark thought began to take root in his mind – you needed to be punished for the pain you had caused him.

Normally, Mingi wouldn't have kidnapped you; he had thought about it before and wanted you to fall in love with him on your own and live with him willingly, but after this, Mingi was going to kidnap you and punish you.

He stuffed the gift he had carefully prepared and wrapped for you into his bag and headed towards the parking lot, where the cameras had broken down long ago but no one had fixed it.

Yunho searched for Mingi everywhere in the college, called him countless times on the phone, but there was no sound from Mingi. When he realized that his class was about to start, he gave up and decided to stop by Mingi's house after class.

Mingi waited for your class to end, like a lion lying in ambush, beside your car, waiting for you without being seen by anyone. When he finally spotted you walking alone towards the parking lot, a momentary pang of guilt struck him. You looked so vulnerable, so unaware of the turmoil raging within him. But in his twisted logic, he pushed aside these feelings, convincing himself that his actions were justified.

Mingi's pent-up emotions exploded in a moment of brutal force as he ambushed you from behind. The sound of your head repeatedly hitting the car echoed in his ears, but he couldn't stop. He was hitting so fast that you were sure you would die there. Before you could even process what was happening, darkness engulfed you, and Mingi took your car key that had fallen from your hand, opened your car, seized the opportunity to bundle you into your own car. After making sure he hadn't left any traces behind, he got into the driver's seat. "I did this because you made me angry. You have to pay for what you've done." Mingi? This name flashed in your mind. The voice belonged to Mingi. But why would Mingi do this to you? Mingi's voice sounded very distant, as if you were in a glass jar and hearing the outside muffled. You tried to move your hands, but they were very heavy. When he started your car, you stopped resisting and closed your eyes.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

When your eyes fluttered open, a wave of numbness enveloped your entire body, leaving you disoriented and struggling to piece together your surroundings. You racked your brain for any memory of what had transpired, but found only a disconcerting void. There was an echo of a sound that faintly resonated in your ears, reminiscent of an engine's hum, yet softer and more persistent, like a background murmur that wouldn't fade away.

Your hands were tied firmly to something on either side, and as you tried to shift them, a feeling of helplessness washed over you. The bright white light that flooded your vision was blinding, making it nearly impossible to keep your eyes open for more than a fleeting moment. Attempts to speak or scream were futile; your mouth felt as if it were encased in a thick fog of numbness. You couldn't even muster the strength to part your lips or form the words that desperately wanted to escape.

As your vision slowly clears, you make out the silhouette of someone, a man hunched over a desk. And that annoying sound that was constantly piercing your brain was coming from there. You wanted to open your mouth and tell him to stop that, but both your mind was very tired, and your mouth was numb; you couldn't feel your lips, tongue, or teeth. The figure paused their work, momentarily silencing the continuous sound, and you watched as he picked up a pair of scissors from the cluttered desk, his movements deliberate yet mysterious. When he lifted his head, revealing a piece of fabric that lay in his hands, clarity began to creep in—you realized he was sewing something with a sewing machine. But confusion clouded your thoughts.

But why? Why were you here, and why was he sewing something here? Did you know him? Your mind was very foggy; you tried to come to your senses, but it was very difficult. A flicker of recognition stirred within you. You felt a sense of familiarity toward the person, although his name eluded you. Min... It started with an 'M.'

"So you're awake, doll," the figure spoke, getting up from the chair and making his way towards you. As he approached, a sense of dread settled in your stomach. "I didn't think you'd sleep for such a long time; I thought you were dead." He crouched down to meet your gaze, his expression a mix of surprise and something darker. "How do you feel?" he asked, his hand brushing softly against your head, yet the touch felt unsettling. You wanted to say you felt disgusting, but your lips didn't move. He got up from where he was crouching and sat next to you on the soft bed you were lying on. "It's silly of me to ask you questions and expect you to answer," you didn't understand what he was talking about. You were getting more and more silent, and the pain in your head had reached a noticeable level. You wanted to moved your arms, but cold metal handcuffs on both sides prevented you. Panic was progressively spreading through your veins, and your irregular breathing was the only sound filling the silent room.

He gazed at you for what felt like an eternity, allowing a heavy sigh to escape his lips. "You look very beautiful," he said, a statement that should have brought warmth but instead sent a chill down your spine. As he reached out toward you, an instinctual urge to pull back surged within you, but the energy to do so eluded you. His fingers brushed against what you thought were your lips, a gentle caress that you couldn’t feel, leaving you in an unsettling state of numbness. "First, let me remind you why you're here," he continued, his voice smooth yet sinister. "I've loved you for a long time, I admire you, but you, like a whore, went and kissed my best friend. That's why I kidnapped you."

Mingi.

The name jolted your memory back to fragmented moments; flashes of laughter, stolen glances, and the painful realization that he harbored feelings for you. Confusion wrestled with disbelief as he spoke, all while a smile danced on his lips, his fingers still trailing along your face. The smile was disarming, but it contrasted sharply with the surreal horror of the moment. You suddenly felt a wave of panic when his hands moved down to your clothes. You were even more confused when you noticed that your outfit had completely changed. The new clothes were made of a fabric you didn't recognize, and a deep sense of dread set in as you looked down at them in shock. As you were trying to look at yourself in surprise, Mingi spoke. "Ah, do you like your new clothes? I sewed them. I made them all carefully to fit your body perfectly." Due to the increasing panic, your head was starting to spin, and you were slowly regaining consciousness.

You wanted to shout at him, curse at him; you wanted to ask why you were here, tell him to let you go, but you couldn't open your mouth and speak, as if your mouth was numb like in a nightmare. "I also sewed something else; would you like to see it?" His question hung in the air, and you could only manage a slow shake of your head, a silent plea for him to stop. The handcuffs biting into your wrists were relentless, the tightness a stark reminder of your captivity, and a numbness was beginning to creep into your fingers.

Mingi excitedly stood up, walked a bit in the room, and took a large mirror in his hand and approached you again. As you were about to try to pull back in fear, you saw your own reflection in the mirror.

Was that thing you saw really you? It was as if you were seeing a film frame from a banned torture movie. What you saw was so foreign to you that you couldn't even react at first. Your lips were sewn together, meticulously stitched up like a doll, swollen and bloodied, thick threads crisscrossing in a grotesque pattern that held them shut, and gave a smiling expression.

This couldn’t be real. You felt the numbness in your lips, yet the sight before you defied all comprehension. Your mind raced; how could this be happening? Surely you would feel something if your lips were truly sewn shut. But right now you felt nothing.

"How is it? Do you like it?" Mingi's voice sliced through your panicked thoughts, his expression filled with a sickening delight. You tried to respond, to express the intense horror consuming you, but your voice betrayed you, silenced in this waking nightmare. "I sewed your lips because you smiled at someone other than me, because you talked to him, and because you kissed him. You belong to me, only me." A small sound escaped from your throat, a pathetic echo of your horror. Mingi’s smile broadened, but it was devoid of warmth, a chilling reminder of the depths of his obsession.

"Broken toys need to be repaired, don’t they? You were broken too, doll, very broken." He lowered the mirror, closing the distance between you, leaning in with an intensity that made your skin crawl. "So I repaired my most beautiful toy by sewing it.” You started to shake and felt like you couldn't breathe. “You can just smile at me." Just as Mingi was about to approach your lips and kiss you, he was interrupted by the familiar ringing of his doorbell.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

a/n: Hello! If you read this far, thank you, you were not bored lolll. I would be very happy if you could give me feedbacks!❤️❤️❤️

174 notes · View notes

imagine-darksiders · 1 month ago

Text

Eden's Heir, chapter 6.

Prison break.

Summary: You manage to get your hands on Vulgrim's precious artifact. War is nice to you in his own, strange way, and Strife is his usual self.

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

War has never been one to hide his true motivations behind crooked smiles and sly glances. Their eldest, Death, used to say that of all the Nephilim to be born from the dust of angels and demons, War was always the most forthright. Abnormally so.

Even among his ilk, he was the odd-one-out. Too fair, too just, 'getting to be a little too much like those damned birds.'

Why? Because he doesn't care for lies? As if Angels can't be just as underhanded and amoral as demons. Still, those who threw critique his way usually ended up leaving sadder but wiser, and often sporting broken bones and a new gap between their teeth courtesy of either himself or Fury. Death was more the sort for dolling out verbal degradation, and Strife... Well, Strife wasn't around a lot when War was still a whelp.

Regardless, perhaps it's that very forthrightness that means it doesn’t concern War in the slightest to be staring at you as he is, nor that you’ve been casting several, perturbed glances up at the underside of his chin before snatching your eyes away again every few seconds, evidently rattled by his unwavering attention.

Conversely unashamed and indiscreet, War has absolutely no qualms about frowning down at the small human in his arms, regarding you as one would a piece of mildly interesting trivia he’s never encountered before but is determined to decipher.

Truly, you’re nothing at all like the humans he’s heard about.

Humans aren’t fighters. Eden was a historically peaceful place, the name itself synonymous with Paradise. And yet only moments ago, War had borne witness as one of its prior denizens pulled a tiny blade from out of nowhere, and with a feverous desperation carving lines into your face, you’d plunged that blade into the hand of the gumptious demon who snatched you up.

… Belatedly, War realises he’ll have to tell Strife to be more thorough the next time he goes snooping for hidden weapons.

Humans adapted well to their new home on Earth, faster than anybody thought they would. They’re sturdy and solidly built, well-defined in body, and often ungainly in how they carry and present themselves; perfectly suited to learn the pursuits of agriculture, crafting and gathering.

You, however, stand as a stark contradiction to your entire species.

You’re soft. Graceful in your extravagant raiment, but inarguably fragile, far more-so than your fellow human, which is saying something.

War has felt the jarring give of your skin under his blade.

Strife has not.

War has tested the pressure of his grasp on your limbs and found them astoundingly delicate.

… Strife has not.

It’s why his brother’s actions riled War so fiercely after throwing you across a Creator-forsaken pit of lava onto this stone platform. He’s not certain Strife quite grasps the magnitude of the situation, nor the implications of a human being here in the first place. For you to turn up in the Void, speaking Common, dressed like a pampered Seraphim… it raises a series of rather urgent questions.

But to even have a hope of getting them answered, he and Strife ideally need to keep you alive...

… If only he could figure out how to get that notion through his brother’s thick skull…

Blinking out of his musings, War sees you raise your eyes to peer up at him again, although in this instance, much to his unspoken surprise, you don’t look away. Whilst certainly anxious, there’s a spark of something else tangled within the labyrinthine strands of your unusual irises, something that nearly has an invisible thread tugging at one corner of his mouth.

At last, it seems you’ve rediscovered the same nerve that called you to defend yourself from the demon.

“Put me down,” you utter quietly in a voice that quavers with the effort of keeping it level. You even maintain bold eye contact as you say it.

Again, War almost has to admire your gumption to demand something of one of the Four...

Almost.

If he were a curious Nephilim like his brother, he would probably concede that, yes, there is something about you that invites fascination. Like a mystery that hasn’t yet revealed its secrets.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, merely holds your watery gaze expectantly until you either remember yourself and lower your eyes or-

“Please, put me down?”

And just like that, War’s unspoken admonition is knocked off its tracks.

He hadn’t been expecting… He thought you’d just…

… Oh.

In hindsight, he supposes it was rather foolish of him to expect a human to adhere to the same social rules as another species, and he has to remind himself that just because you’re still meeting his stare, you aren’t being deliberately provocative.

Just… naive.

But why would you know of his reputation? Or of the tall tales whispered by nervous, fledgeling angels who like to try and frighten each other with stories… Stories about what happens to those who are unlucky or unwise enough to look the Horseman, War, in his eye.

Your ‘please’ is foreign to him. He knows of its usage, of course, but to hear it spoken so liberally… It’s as though you assumed ‘please’ was what he was waiting for. Is offering it a human’s way of showing deference?

Curious…

“Ahem…”

The sound of a throat being cleared snaps through War’s thoughts like the crack of a whip.

Quick as a flash, the scowl that had been gradually lifting from his expression slams back into place, and he turns his heated glare onto Strife, who stands in front of him with his arms folded neatly across a silver chest and his helm cocked to one side, eyes narrowed accusingly.

“You done being greedy, or are you gonna share?”

War’s scoff, and your huff occur at the same time, leading the two of you to share a brief glance before the former gives his eyes an exaggerated roll and finally, finally obliges, lowering you to the ground as swiftly as he can while maintaining a strange air of caution that betrays how breakable he thinks you are.

Large, metal gauntlets slide out from underneath your legs, depositing you on a flat piece of stone that’s relatively clean of demon blood.

The very instant you’re free, you only hesitate long enough to squeak out a hurried ‘thanks!’ before tearing yourself away from the gauntlet that hovers behind you and stumble several paces off to the side, putting some much-needed distance between you and the Horsemen. You almost trip over the train of your dress in the process.

Clinging to your elbows, you have to stuff your teeth into your lower lip to stop the sound of despair bursting out through pursed lips.

Your legs may as well be replaced with toothpicks for all the support they’re giving you. Terrible possibilities have begun to swirl across the mire of your brain.

What if you hadn’t found your nail file in time…?

What if Strife had never returned your bag?

You shudder, overwhelmed by the feeling that you’ve landed on the right side of a coin-flip, by no other will than dumb-fucking-luck.

You’ve never come that close to certain death before. You never want to come that close again.

At your back, unseen, Strife gives you a fleeting once-over, only returning his eyes to your veil when he doesn’t spot any immediate damage.

With his typical flair for bad timing and inability to read a room, he stretches his mouth into a hidden, cocksure grin, gives an approving nod and declares, “You did good, kid.”

Giving a harsh sniff, you tip your head towards the ceiling and let out a sharp, brassy laugh, utterly devoid of humour.

“Good?” you echo, rounding on the Horseman, your lungs still feeling two sizes too small when you draw breath, “GOOD!? I could have died! I almost did!”

“Almost!” Strife parrots eagerly, venturing a few steps towards you and spreading his arms out wide, apparently unbothered by your brazen reproach, “You almost died. But you didn’t.”

“That isn’t reassuring, Strife!” you wail.

Shaking fingers lift to try and thread through your hair, only to meet the barrier of your veil. Thwarted, you let your arms flop bonelessly back down against your sides and curl your hands into fists. “I’m not…-!”

But the words won’t come. Instead, you fall silent, realising how redundant it would be to say, ‘I’m not like you,’ out loud.

Christ, what an understatement.

You’re not the type to look at an ‘almost death’ and consider it a triumph. It’s a nightmare. You want to avoid death! That’s the most human instinct of all.

You shouldn’t even be here. You’re not like these two larger-than-life beings from another world. You can’t shoot guns like a master marksman, you can’t swing a sword that’s longer than you are tall, and you certainly can’t make impossible jumps that seem to defy gravity itself.

Hell, you can’t even stand up to your own fiancé and his family…

Sullen, despondent, you allow the adrenaline to seep out of you like water from a leaky pail, leaving you with limbs that feel far too heavy, and a head that’s tired as death.

“I’ve got to get out of here,” you eventually murmur to yourself, resisting the urge to scrub at your eyes lest you spread mascara all over your face. Your heart thunders inside your chest, palms slick with the heat, but more so with the creep of dread that rises in your belly as you picture the demon’s rancid maw in your mind’s eye and grit your teeth, unable to quell the waves of anxiety crashing against you like breakers that pummel a rocky cliff.

All the while, Strife is busy trying to pluck a response from midair, racking his brain for reasons as to why you can’t just ‘get out of here.’

Then, to his surprise and your own, the silence is broken, and it’s War’s stoic voice that brings a pause to the hopelessness dragging your soul down into the pit of your stomach.

“That was a Slag Demon.”

Blinking, you knit your brows into a frown and lift your eyes to the Horseman’s hoodless face. “Excuse me?”

And War, evidently sincere in every aspect, assumes you didn’t hear him, and repeats himself. “That was a Slag Demon.”

Once again, your eyelids flutter in a series of rapid blinks. “Yeah, I… I heard you,” you reply falteringly, “I just-“

“That demon,” he cuts you off, sending you a pointed look, “was forged in the deepest blast furnaces of Hell. They’re deceptively fast, almost invulnerable, and notoriously hard to kill.”

When he falls silent and doesn’t continue for several moments, you shift your weight and awkwardly drawl out, “… Oh-kay~?”

What the Hell is he getting at?

The way he’s peering down at you is… odd, you decide. He still has that perpetual scowl on his face, but the eyes under his furrowed brow seem… brighter, somehow, not quite as piercing and disparaging as they were before.

You’re not sure you like it any better.

Appraising you for a few more seconds, War gives a solemn nod, and states, “You found a weakness. You used what you had at your disposal to gain the upper hand.” Then, after taking a brief moment to consider his next words, he must eventually deem you worthy of them because he averts his gaze and scowls off at the distant stalactites, grunting, “It was a good kill.”

… Your jaw nearly hits the ground.

And judging by the way Strife’s helmeted head snaps around to send a wide-eyed stare at his larger brother, you suppose War must not say this sort of thing very often.

Looking down at yourself, you take in the meringue wedding dress, the ruffled tulle and overall extravagance of your attire.

“But…” Your tongue darts out apprehensively to wet your lips, “But I didn’t even kill it.”

Turning away from you, War begins to march back over to the grate, stopping only long enough to retrieve his enormous sword from the ground.

He barely takes a second to mull over his next answer as he slings the blade into its proper place along his spine. “You created the opening that gave Strife a clear shot,” he tells you, coming to a halt above the iron bars set into the floor and twitching his head towards you, his profile obscured by long, ice-white hair, “It counts.”

And with that, he reaches up to thread large, metal fingers into his hood and flips the crimson fabric up and over his head, once again hiding his face in dark, familiar shadow.

For… quite some time, you’re left speechless, gawping at the back of War’s head, and reeling now from the near-death experience and the unexpected approval of one of the scariest men you’ve ever met. A glance down at your hands confirms they’re still shaking, fingers tight and rigid like the bones under your skin have locked up.

“…Well,” Strife chimes in, heaving his massive shoulders in a shrug, “Good thing I don’t mind sharing.”

Sauntering over to you, he lifts an arm as if he’s about to drape it across your back, but the moment you see him coming, you lurch into motion and start after his brother, following the path War had picked through the dead imps, all the while trying to avoid glancing down at their cold, dead eyes.

Only thrown for a moment, Strife is quick to recover, waltzing after you and continuing, “So! Big day. You killed your first demon, kind of. How d’you feel?”

Your mouth twists up into a grimace. “Like I’m going to pass out, throw up, have a heart attack then die. In that order.”

Which is eerily similar to how you felt walking up the steps to the church.

The panic is… well, it’s definitely still there. The threat of a downward spiral haunts the edge of your mind, always keeping itself in the periphery. But for now, War’s stoic assessment has apparently shocked you so much, it broke the nosedive you were about to take into a total fit of hopelessness.

The Horseman beside you barks out a laugh and takes a few loping steps until he’s swaggering along beside you, the heavy ‘clunk’ of his boots drowning out the ‘clicks’ of your heels. “Don’t worry, we’ll keep a closer eye on you, next time.”

“Next time?” you sputter, brows shooting up towards the top of your veil, “I-I am not planning on doing this again.”

“Eh.” With a dismissive waft of his hand, he replies, “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Now c’mon! Sooner we get the artifact, the sooner we can be outta this heat.”

Well. You suppose you have to agree with him on that front.

The sudden clatter of metal skittering across the ground nearly has you jumping out of your shoes.

At your side, Strife jerks to a halt, his boot lifted halfway off the ground and his helm tipped down to search for the thing he’d inadvertently kicked with the toe of his sabatons. His keen eye latches onto it at once, and he utters a sound of intrigue at the back of his throat.

Following his gaze, you hone in on the little object that’s still skidding several paces away from you before it slides to a stop, laying small and shiny on the dark stone.

Stooping down, Strife reaches out a hand to gather the little object into his palm.

“Huh, guess it was knocked when I shot that big bastard...” he mutters, rising to his full height and unfurling each finger one by one, peering down at his prize, “I thought you didn’t have any weapons in there.”

Turning towards you, he holds up your bloodied nail-file as he jerks his chin at your bag.

Admittedly, you’re surprised to see it again, and even more surprised at the surge of gratitude that courses through you at the prospect of being reunited with something from the real world.

“Technically speaking,” you sniff, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “A nail file isn’t a weapon.”

Bringing it close to his visor, Strife tilts his head and squints at it, humming dubiously as he runs the pad of his finger over the coarse metal, giving the end a testing tap.

“… It looks like a dagger,” he points out, “… A very small dagger.”

“Or a toothpick,” his brother grumbles up ahead.

“Well, it isn’t either of those things… It’s just something I use to keep my nails tidy…” At the incredulous glances you receive – one from Strife and one from War who deigns to cast you a bemused look over his shoulder – you breathe a weary sigh and thrust your hand out towards the former of the pair expectantly. “Look, can I just… have it back?”

In truth, you half expect him to refuse, whether to simply get a rise out of you or to mitigate your temptation to attack them with the nail file – not that you’d be so foolish.

So, when Strife extends an arm and holds your ‘weapon’ out towards you, you can’t help but let your jaw drop open in undisguised shock.

“Sure,” he says breezily, “I ain’t gonna keep it. More of a gun man, myself. And War’d be embarrassed to be seen with a blade this small.”

You don’t know whether you’re supposed to take offence to that or not.

“Here,” Strife offers again, lowering his upturned palm in the private hopes of coaxing you closer when you just continue to gape at his appendage, “Take it.”

Warily, you start inching your hand up towards his, keeping your eye on the silver helm and those piercing, golden eyes that drill right into you with attentive wonder.

Swallowing thickly, you dare to flick your gaze down to the nail-file, still sitting pretty at the centre of his palm… Up this close, you spot something that threatens to turn your stomach inside out.

“Ew! There’s blood all over it!” you exclaim, retracting your outstretched hand like he’s trying to give you a live snake.

Indeed, it isn’t the silvery metal that’s glinting in the firelight, but a coating of thick, shiny blood that’s already begun to dry on the file’s roughly-hewn surface.

Strife – who had given a start at your exclamation – pauses, then blinks and cocks his brow down at the offending blood sticking to your weapon.

“Oh, so-rry, Princess,” he chuckles, lifting the file to his cowl and wiping it several times against the fabric, smearing dark flakes of blood into the wool before he holds it out towards you again, “That better?”

Tipping your nose into the air, you give the file a thorough once over. Deeming it adequately clean, you at last reach up to pluck it from his grip, holding it gingerly between your thumb and forefinger. “Much. Thanks.”

You’ve turned away before you can see his eyes glow brighter, considerably pleased with himself.

By the time he stops sticking out his chest, you’ve already reached his brother, stopping a respectable distance away near the opposite side of the grate.

War doesn’t even spare you a cursory glance. Instead, he stands still and strong as a statue, his frost-blue eyes scrutinising the bars with rigid focus.

You don’t dare ask him why he hasn’t retrieved his ‘artifact’ yet.

“Hey, War. What’s the holdup?”

Apparently, you and Strife are on the same wavelength. How disconcerting.

A metal elbow suddenly brushes against your side as a titanic body disregards your own personal space and sidles up next to you, pulling a gasp from your lips that goes entirely ignored while Strife addresses his brother over the top of your head. “You gonna grab the artifact or what?”

Grumbling under his breath, War raises his eyes to fix his fellow Horseman with a stony scowl.

“The grate,” he retorts darkly, tossing a hand at the ground as if the answer should have already been obvious, “It’s locked.”

“Oh,” Strife answers flatly, though it isn’t long before he plants a decisive fist on his hip and declares, “Well, then we’ll just have to find the key…” Swivelling around in place, he casts an eye around the chamber and adds, “Maybe the demon had it?”

… You hate to point out the obvious, especially when you haven’t been invited to do so, but…

“Um… You mean the demon that just fell over the side?” you venture.

A thick, uncomfortable silence ensues, during which you’re sure you must have offended him somehow, because Strife’s body goes utterly motionless, and War huffs a breath through his nose.

“… I see your point,” the former concedes at last, and you realise he isn’t angry, just... bashful.

Another derisive sound escapes from the larger Horseman’s mouth, prompting Strife’s helm to snap towards his brother. “Well, you’re the strong one,” he gripes, “Just tear out the bars.”

Now it’s War’s turn to stop and ponder. He casts a sideways glance down at you, regarding you briefly from the shadow of his hood. By the time you’ve lifted your eyes to his face, he’s already turned away, cracking his neck with an audible ‘Pop!’

“Very well,” he rumbles.

It’s a little prideful of him – and Creator knows Death would expect better - yet War can’t help but wonder if you’ll be awed by a show of might. Maybe you’ll be afraid... Moreso than at present.

Pounding a fist into his gauntlet, he lowers his immense bulk down onto one knee and slides his fingers around the bars, rolling his shoulders as he prepares to demonstrate the raw, physical strength of the Red Ri-

“-Can’t you just… reach in and grab it?” you ask, cleanly derailing War’s train of thought and knocking the wind from his sails, “I mean, it looks small enough to fit through the bars, right?”

… Well, War supposes that’s a fair suggestion, but for one not-so-small problem.

Without turning to look at you, War simply holds up his gauntlet and flexes the metallic fingers into a fist. “I would not get my knuckles through,” he states simply, bobbing his head sideways at his brother, “Nor would Strife.”

“Oh,” you falter, shrinking backwards and stuffing a canine into your bottom lip whilst the Horseman curls his hands around the bars once more.

“Um, why don’t I take a crack at it then?”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you find yourself wishing you could snatch them out of the air and stuff them back behind your teeth.

Of all the fool things you could have said, why on Earth would you offer to put your hands anywhere near a stone that’s glowing like raw Uranium?

But it’s too late.

Strife has turned a thoughtful, wide-eyed gaze onto War, who returns it with the slightest parting of his brows.

“… Why didn’t we think of that?” Strife posits.

Before you can verbally – and physically – backtrack, War has already twisted his torso about and wrapped his colossal fist around your forearm, notably aiming for the one he hadn’t sliced open with his sword.

Warm metal engulfs your appendage all the way up to your elbow, and though you try to resist, he hardly seems to notice your efforts as he tugs you towards his side, then lowers his hand, leaving you with no choice but to follow its weight and drop to your knees in front of the grate, wincing as they bump against the hard stone beneath your dress.

“Here,” he says firmly, allowing you to snatch your arm back in favour of pointing his finger down at the glowing crystal, “Reach down and take it.”

Curling your hand into your chest, you give your head a shake and protest, “I can’t!”

“You just said you could!” Strife rebuffs.

That you did… “But-!” Wracking your brain, you add, “But what if it’s like… radioactive or something!?”

Visibly, the Horseman balks. “Ray-dee-oh… what?”

War’s eyes start to roll towards the ceiling as he listens to your back and forth with his brother, and he considers whether it would have been faster to rip the grate out of the stone after all.

You proposed a solution however, and in his frank opinion, you ought to stick by it.

The massive gauntlet enters your peripheral just as you open your mouth to shoot another argument up at Strife, but no sooner have the metal tips of War’s fingers ghosted across your arm than you wrench it away, whipping around to face him with startled eyes.

Hastily, you hold up your hands in surrender.

“Okay! Alright!” you acquiesce, “Jesus, just… give me a second…”

Flicking part of the veil over your shoulder, you lean forwards and brace yourself with one hand on a bar, lowering your torso down to stretch your other hand down and into the pit below, fingers blindly fishing around for the Vulgrim’s precious artifact.

When they brush against a warm, smooth surface, you can’t refrain from yelping and snatching your hand back as if it had moved.

The leathery smack of a gun being drawn from its holster reaches your ears.

“You okay?” Strife demands, shifting his weight restlessly.

Swallowing back your embarrassment, you nod and reply, “Uh, yeah, yeah. It’s just hot!”

“Hot enough to burn you?” War cuts in with a rough growl.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you brave another go, reaching down and brushing your fingertips hesitantly over the surface of the crystal. Though it is disconcertingly warm to the touch – no doubt from the ambient heat in the atmosphere – you realise with a third stroke that it isn’t anywhere near as hot as you feared it would be.

“No,” you sigh, only partially relieved.

The massive presences surrounding you relax slightly.

“Good,” Strife murmurs, raising his voice to add, “Can you get it loose?”

You can, as it turns out. Quite easily in fact. The crystal isn’t being held in any kind of clamp. To your mounting astonishment, it seems to simply float in midair.

“This is so freaky~,” you sing to yourself as you slide your palm down the long side of it, feeling for the pointed base and cupping your fingers around it with an audible gulp.

The whole crystal seems to buzz and hum under your touch, sending an eerie tingle racing up the length of your arm and raising the hairs all the way up to the back of your neck.

According to all sense and reason, this thing is nothing more than a pretty, pink crystal. But here, where sense and reason have been turned on their heads, pulled inside out and shaken up like a vodka martini, the thing in your hand is no more a mere crystal than the Horsemen are mere men.

Trying very hard to ignore how much the fluctuating thrum beneath your fingertips reminds you of a pulse, you clench your jaw tight, close your eyes, and pull… with a little too much force.

It’s lighter than you expected it to be. Nearly weightless. And it slips straight through the bars of its prison without even dinging against the sides.

Letting out an undignified bleat, you teeter backwards and land painfully on your backside, the crystal smacking against your bosom before falling from your trembling fingers and sliding safely into the soft, white fabric of your skirts.

Cracking your eyelids apart, you blink down at your lap, chest stuttering on a breath. “I… I got it?”

That was…decidedly easy…

Well, aside from almost getting eaten by a demon in your quest to find the damn thing.

The soft, pink glow of the crystal lights up your face as you peer down at it, glittering off your wedding dress and bathing the fabric folds in warmth.

“Wow,” you hear yourself whisper.

With cautious awe, your fingers wander towards it and slip gently around your rescued prize.

You’re so busy admiring the smooth, faultless lines that you don’t notice the shadow of a hand falling across your shoulders until War’s gauntlet has slid beneath your arm.

Aside from blurting out a squawk, you helplessly have to let yourself be lifted with unnerving ease onto your feet, still clutching the crystal close to your breast.

“Good job, kid,” Strife declares, slapping a palm on your back.

If War’s fingers hadn’t tightened around your arm at the moment, you’re sure you’d go tumbling over onto your face.

The force of the larger Horseman’s warning growl sends tremors through his gauntlet and down into the toes of your shoes, rattling the teeth in your skull.

Strife, pleasantly unfussed by his brother’s idle threat, leans over your shoulder as War releases you, and together, you all stare down at the crystal in your arms.

“Wonder what this thing’s worth to that soul-sucking ghoul,” Strife remarks after nobody breaks the quiet hush that’s fallen over you, as though he can’t bear to sit in silence for too long. Bringing his gauntlet up to rub at the chin of his helm, he thoughtfully adds, “We could always convince Vulgrim to throw in a little extra…”

At his suggestion, a tiny frown-line blooms to life between your brows. It is a very pretty gem… but while you know next to nothing about demons, you aren’t sure you like the idea of trying to bargain with one, not when your run-in with one of Vulgrim’s ilk had almost ended so disastrously.

You don’t know if it should come as a shock or not when War’s shoulders bristle moments later, and he bares his canines at Strife, his cavernous chest puffing up until you have to lean sideways to avoid getting jostled by it.

“The artifact, in exchange for information,” he snarls dangerously, “We will honour our agreement.”

‘Honour among Horsemen of the Apocalypse?’ you muse privately, ‘Wonders will never cease.’

Though only in War’s case, evidently. Strife just heaves an obnoxious sigh and tosses his helm back, “Ugh, you have no ambition… Why’ve you gotta be such a killjoy?”

War’s lips start to curl even further apart.

“So!” you quickly interrupt the broiling fracas, “We’ve got the… this thing-“ You shrug the crystal in your palms. “-H-how exactly do we get back?”

That, at least, gets the pair of bickering brothers to fall silent and pivot their attention from one another onto you. War’s expression is still as stony as ever, but you consider it a win that he looks marginally less murderous.

“Huh,” Strife says, “That’s a good question.”

Rumbling at the base of his throat, War grunts, "It would be prudent to find a way out of this realm as quickly as possible."

"Oh?" A mischievous glint sparks in his brother's keen gaze. "And here I thought you were.... warming up to the place."

Unbidden, a short puff of laughter is scoffed right off your tongue, more amused by how bad the joke was than the joke itself.

Either way, Strife's chest fills out proudly as his helm quirks towards you, one eyelid flashing closed behind the visor in a wink.

Oblivious, War just grumbles, "You know your humour escapes me."

And quick as a whip, Strife returns, "All humour escapes you."

Giving a brusque shake of his head, the larger Horseman decides it isn't worth getting into this argument for the umpteenth time. Turning his attention down to you and the crystal in your hands, he beckons with a gauntlet for you to step closer.

"Come. If we retrace our steps, we may be able to-"

You never get to hear the end of his sentence.

It isn’t that you’re particularly unlucky, you think… God, you hope. You’ve never thought yourself significant enough that the Universe would have it out for you personally, after all.

But when the ground suddenly disappears from under your feet in a blinding flash of vivid, blue light, and the deafening rush of air buffets your dress and boxes your eardrums, you can’t help wondering if you’ve somehow - in some unwitting way - slighted the powers that be, and now they’re playing their revenge card.

Which is a hassle for you, because you’ve had just about enough of portals and getting whisked off to places unknown for one day.

The last thing you see as you throw your head up and open your mouth to release a scream that’ll be sucked away with you as your atoms once again rearrange themselves to fit through a spatial rip, is Strife’s luminous, golden eyes flaring hotly like bursting stars – a direct contrast to the cool, ethereal blue of his brother’s, who’s own gaze opens up in surprise and, you think, alarm, one gauntlet outstretched in your direction.

And that’s all you manage to glimpse before the light overtakes you, and your body is yanked like a fish on a hook into the luminiferous aether.

#Eden's Heir #Darksiders #Darksiders Genesis #Strife x Reader x War #polyamory #Friendship #Reader #fem reader #x reader

109 notes · View notes