#especially not in this day and age. i mean the show tells us what happens when the truth falls into the wrong hands

[jaredfuckingkleinman]

“evan doesn’t even get any consequences for what he did!! he gets let off easy!!” well no actually! just because he doesn’t publicly take responsibility for all that he did (in the musical), that doesn’t mean he doesn’t suffer consequences. you do realize that he has to live with what he did forever, right? he has to live with the guilt and the hurt he inflicted upon a grieving family and community and he has to live with the fact that he told a massive fucking lie to hundreds of thousands of people. i feel like that’s punishment enough as is

[sabertoothwalrus]

tips for getting people to like your ocs

*disclaimer: this is based on what’s worked for me, aka an artist that likes to make comics/storyboards. so this advice is directed at people who do that

you can do things like this:

Which is fun! Character sheets like this are great, especially for personal reference! But frankly, I don’t think most people engage with this (at least I personally don’t). You could have the coolest character in the world, but it will be harder for most people to feel invested when they’re presented so neutrally like this.

My main piece of advice is: get better at writing.

That might sound harsh when said like that, but let me explain what I mean! (Not trying to imply you’re bad at writing either!)

What I tend to do is just throw characters into situations with as little handholding as I can. Give enough context that readers can follow along, but don’t feel like they’re being explained to.

what can you learn about the characters through their designs alone? (age, personality, economic status, occupation, etc)

what can you learn about the characters’ relationship though their interactions alone? (are they close? familial? romantic? is there hostility? are they tense/relaxed?)

what are the characters currently doing? what were they doing previously (how long have they been talking)? what are they going to do next? can you convey this without dialogue?

how do they feel about what they are doing? are they content? focused? over/understimulated? would they rather be doing something else?

where are they? does it matter? would establishing a setting in at least one panel clarify the scene? is there anything in the enviroment that could tell some of the story?

what time of day is it? what time of year is it? what is the weather like?

Now, with all this in mind, I'm going to give you another example. I'm going to use completely brand new characters for the sake of the experiment, so you won't have any bias (aka I can’t use Protagonist from above, since you already know all about him).

Did this get more of an emotional response from you than the first example? Why do you think so? Who are these characters? How do they know each other? What else can you infer about them? What happened? Who is "she"?

Now, you don't have to actually answer all those questions. But think about them! You can tell people a whole lot about your characters without ever showing them a list of their likes and dislikes.

Obviously, comics aren't the only way to get people invested in your original characters! But regardless, easily digestible formats will grab people's attention faster than huge blocks of text, and comics are a lot less work than doing wholeass storyboards.

Now go and share your ocs with the world!!!

[daincrediblegg]

no you know what I'm going to scream about the stuff I talked about in the tags of this post publicly

I'm tired of the well-meaning "don't feel bad if your work only gets 20 notes your genius is what counts and do it for you!" bullshit. I've had a good handful of friends who have straight up DEACTIVATED in recent months because their work was not getting reblogged AT ALL. No, it wasn't from lack of not being well-liked, no it wasn't from lack of trying to make sure it was getting out there to the people they knew would engage with it. It was because no matter how much they were praised privately for their work, when push came to shove, absolutely NOBODY reblogged it and gave it the audience that it was due, and I'm tired of people shoving the "unsung genius" narrative as an excuse for it. Nothing excuses that. And the boop event really proved that.

because I know given the opportunity, indiscriminately pressing a button (sometimes 10 thousand times, as I did) is not beyond this website's capability. y'all loved doing that. and look at what it wrought. nothing but love and affection and happiness. just from a couple of quick clicks of a little paw button. sure. nobody knew who you booped but the other person (which is how likes used to work on this website, btw). there was an element of anonymity to it. but that is kind of the core of this website that no other social media platform still has: the ability to be anonymous. and hyper-curating a blog on here like you might on twitter or instagram to project an image is simply not viable. and hey. you wanna know a secret: literally nobody cares what you post or whether it goes with the "theme" of your blog or not. yeah. I know. CRAZY concept in this day and age. but literally. I myself have reblogged things that have had nothing to do with whatever I am currently fixated by and you know what happened to my follower count? not a damn thing. in fact, I actively try to reblog things specifically BECAUSE it's my friends who made them (even though I'm not always good at KEEPING UP WITH HOW MUCH THEY POST @prismatica-the-strange will NEVER GO UNRECOGNIZED by me).

And you know what fucking sucks? I have to deal with this too. surprise right? you ever wonder why I reblog fics or art I post like 20 times the day that I post them? do you ever wonder why I ask about tag lists and beg for asks all the time? IT'S BECAUSE EVEN I GET LIKE. 5 LIKES ON THE THINGS I POST. AND THE REST OF THE REBLOGS ARE MINE SO I CAN MAKE SURE THAT PEOPLE WHO WANT TO SEE WHAT I MAKE GET TO SEE IT. and I say that knowing that I'm certainly not an unpopular blog, or an unpopular writer. I know that people love the stories that I create. Hell, half of the people that I've talked to about lady terror have told me that they consider her to be canon (AND EVEN SOME!! THOUGHT SHE WAS!!! WITHOUT EVEN HAVING WATCHED THE SHOW! WHICH IS STILL SO SO WILD TO ME!!!) But especially in the last 4 years (which really dates this phenomenon), my posts, no matter how well received they've been amongst people I've talked to about them directly, I still go into the notes and at least half (often more than half) are MY reblogs to make sure people saw what I posted. and it happens every single time, and I can't tell you how much it crushes me considering that it used to be that I would be able to post it only once, and people would reblog it sometimes even HUNDREDS of times.

It's not about popularity. it never has been. it's not about anxiety. or shifting website cultures. even if you lurk, the simple fact is, that if you want people to keep making what you love. you have to reblog. your theme won't suffer because you reblogged a fanfiction that you really admire. your posting won't be ruined because you reblogged some fanart from someone in a different fandom. really. I promise. and if people do unfollow you for that? who needs em. followers come and go but you should NEVER have to cater to them. on this website it has ALWAYS been the other way around. lean into it. make it yours. put stuff you ACTUALLY WANT to be seen and that you love and appreciate on your blog. no matter how old it is, how new it is, no matter how niche or off-theme it is.

so please. if you really want to show your appreciation for someone's work? you reblog. it's really as easy as that. check the tags. add some when you reblog if you like. but please for the love of god reblog. it's as easy as booping and even more rewarding for the people who you reblog from. if you want to let someone know that their work is genius and appreciate it? show it. reblog. then DM them if you're too nervous to say what you want to say but not in a public forum. but for christ's sake. REBLOG.

[gremlingottoosilly]

I just need willing sexworker reader with Mafia Konig.

He is fighting against the urge to have his lil wifey near bc he knows he will fuck 24/7 and also she would be his weakness. But how can he say no when she begs him so sweetly with his cock inside, when she says a mere thing about how they would be a cute family.

My breeding kink is showing, forgive my manners.

Oh, he can't resist your begging. This man is weak - for you especially, with his mind working overtime just to compensate for all the things he is throwing away to be able to spend a few more hours buried deep in your pussy. You look so fucking precious under him, your body mangled to fit him perfectly - he needs you, wants you, sometimes thinks you're literally just a plant from a rival gang to make him stop working and just fuck you all the time. If you sleep together and you ask him to stay with you during the morning, with that adorable groggy voice of yours, he won't ever be able to resist - and if you want for him to breed your pussy until you're so filled up you can't walk, he will gladly stop whatever he was doing. It started so simple. Konig was your client, paid a bit too much, and always took care of you afterward - if not personally, then by hotel staff and paid nights at the luxurious resorts. You couldn't help but fall for him, even if only for a little bit at the start. You adored his gifts, his compliments, even his obsession and his work - he protected you, started booking all of your sessions to drive clients away, even managed to get you an apartment without any strings attached. Well, without any strings that weren't attached to him, that is. Konig sees you as his reprieve, his little saving grace. He indulges in your body and makes sure you know just how much he adores having you by his side. You're his weakness, and he tells you that it's going to get him killed one day, but if that means keeping you on his lap while dealing with gun deals and the drug trade, he is willing to risk everything. He needs you by his side - if not as a helper, then as stress relief. Konig never cared too much about what was going to happen with his mafia empire after he died, but now he started to think about heirs, legacy, making you pregnant, and then spawning a little army of his kids, ready to take over neighboring countries. You beg him to fuck you so sweetly, he just can't resist. Even if his age means he can't quite go on multiple rounds like he used to at his horny young adult times, he is still going to keep his favourite lady satisfied. And fucked so much, she wouldn't be able to crawl out of the bed next morning, letting him tend to his criminal business.

[teojira]

[Dance with The Devil] [movie!Shadow x reader headcanons]

Summary: a collection of random headcanons/small scenarios based on my "Click Click Boom" post for Shadow!

Word count: 1.5k

Disclaimer (1): Harkness scale people, he is of age and can consent and is sentient. I'm allowed to want to kiss the hedgehog.

Disclaimer (2): This can be read as Romantic or Platonic! Though I did write it to be implied romance.

A/N: Yall asked for more, who am I to deny the people (I imagine kissing him every second of the day). I tried to hit a lot of asks all in one to give eveyrone what they asked for! I hope y'all enjoy! Reblogs and comments are super appreciated and motivate me to write more <3

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Shadow is so extremely overprotective of you, borderline to an unhealthy agree but is it really when you're welcoming to it??

You, by all means, shouldn't encourage him. He's one of the strongest beings on the planet. He can't just make threats, God knows if he'll act out on them.

You can't help but let it happen though, a warm fuzzy feeling deep in your chest clouds your judgment for a few moments. Knowing that Shadow sees you as someone worth protecting, of caring for.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Shadow baring his fangs at Sonic and fucking growling is new though.

"Shadow did you just- did you just fucking growl?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sonic was just trying to hug me dude, relax.'

"He'll get his scent all over you. No."

Shadow turns his back on you, so he misses the blush that overtakes your entire face.

He has an inkling though, if the strangled cry from your throat is any indication.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Riding ! With ! Him !!! He takes you on drives all the time, it helps him clear his head and it's his way of asking for physical contact without giving you idea, feeling you against his back and your body pressed up against his does wonder for his mental health, he'll purposefully take longer routes and side roads at night to keep you close.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

If you fall asleep on the couch, Shadow isn't gonna curl up with you, but he's next to the couch, head propped up against the arm rest as he watches over you. He's well aware he could just teleport you both to your room, but you look too peaceful :( and he knows he takes up all your time and energy, so he rather let you rest.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Shadow always walks behind you. It's a nervous habit. If he wanders behind, he has the perfect view to scan for threats.

You go to tell him he's being paranoid, but stop yourself. The last person he cared for died, the girl who gave him a purpose. You shut your joke down fast, shaking your head when Shadow raises an eye bridge at your expression.

"Do you want to hold my hand?" You go with that instead.

"Absolutely not."

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Please god can you imagine shopping for him, getting his leather jackets and what not bc he fucking deserves it, especially when you nervously claim that he needs the correct gear for riding his motorcycle and he hits you with:

"That's useless, I can easily chaos control if need be."

BUT HE DOESN'T RIDE WITHOUT IT EVER !!!! You even got it monogrammed, and he runs his thumb across it often, scoffing at himself when he realizes, snatching his hand away.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Shadow likes to be useful, even though you tell him again and again that he doesn't owe you anything, he doesn't listen.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

If you wear makeup and ever fall asleep in it, you can't ever seem to remember if it was you who took it off, your memories jumbling up together to the point you're not sure.

It was Shadow, he knows you don't like showing others your bare face, which he thinks is ridiculous as shit, he likes you as you are, whether with makeup or bare, you're you.

Please I could cry imagining him so gently taking a makeup wipe and rubbing small circles to get that waterproof eyeliner off of you, eyes laser focused into his task. I'm gonna throw up.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

In the colder months, he's susceptible to being more mellow and relaxed. Despite being the ultimate life form and having fur, he still gets cold and hates the feeling.

This brings me to the fact that bro steals your blankets, he has no remorse and will walk right into your room to take your heated blanket. He's an asshole.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Fully believes that nicknames are stupid and that they don't matter, the best he's gonna do for you is call you by your first Intial (ex: Teddy = T) It's rare that he'll do call you by it regardless, but beggers cannot be choosers.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Getting matching bangles to match his inhibitor rings!! Makes him go stupid for a second, brain computing that oh??? You want to match him?? He's gonna tease you, but when you threaten to just take them off, he immediately goes quiet.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The subject of being sick came up often in asks, and he struggles really hard with it. It's not obvious, but if you look closely, his quills are pin straight, and he's easily more agitated.

He's not mad at you, it's not your fault, it's just that seeing you curl up into bed brings back so many bad memories of when Maria has flare ups and couldn't leave her bed.

It made him feel useless. His whole reason for being was to help cure illness, maybe not the common cold. He's aware of that, but the point remains.

Shadow gets more docile, even going to ask Maddie what to do. The woman offers to come over and take care of you instead, but Shadow shuts her down quickly. He's more than capable, and he's a little overprotective.

"Are you sure? I don't mind, I don't have anything going on."

"That isn't necessary."

"But it might be better if it's m-"

"I can take care of them."

It's hard to argue with a 5ft hedgehog that can easily snap your neck, so she regents and hands him over some cold and flu medicine along with painkillers and vaporub and instructions. He looks so silly with all of it in his arms, Gatorade, water, the medicine, some food, but it warms your heart. You haven't had anyone really look after you when you were sick, always left to fend for yourself, so it's nice.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

For my period havers, I am on mine, so this made it in:

Shadow using his hands as personal heating pads for your stomach or the small of your back, you can't seem to remember where you put your heating pad so he sits there with you and just, shoves his hand onto your skin, it's added comfort due to his fur.

"Oh my god, that feels good."

You groan into your pillow, curling up into a ball, your back facing the ultimate lifeform.

"Is it really that bad?"

Shadow hums, moving to ever so slightly knead the skin, smirking to himself when you damn near moan at the feeling.

"You know damn fucking well it's that bad."

Shadow snorts.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Once you're both closer, he allows you to touch him alot more, so long as you ask him first if you can run your fingers over his quills, he finds it soothing, it's common to find you both on the couch, fast asleep together with the TV set to come true crime YouTube video.

Sonic takes a million pictures, to which he sends to Shadow later. The black hedgehog doesn't say anything, but he secretly saves each one.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Speaking of the others, you try and force him to spend time with team Sonic to varying degrees of success. Mainly the success being if you will also be there and be by his side. The team likes you well enough, always playfully telling you that they can handle Shadow if he ever hurts you.

Which gets them Shadow staring them down, his eyes lighting up as a warning.

You'd think they'd learn that this man doesn't play when it comes to you, but they're a bit stupid.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

When it comes to any insecurities you may have, he shuts that shit down IMMEDIATELY, you think it's because he genuinely doesn't give a fuck, but no, it's because he cares about you and will logically tell you facts. Does it help? It's varying, but he still tries.

Issue with your weight. He doesn't care. Are you healthy? That's all that matters. He's strong enough to lift you up, and he'll demonstrate it on you if need be. He doesn't know who put it into your head that there's any issue with it, but he'll fix it.

"Shadow, can I ask you something?"

"Go on."

"Does my weight ever bother you?"

"I am not like human men."

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You're insecure about talking about your interests/hyperfixations? He actively will sit down and listen, eyes intense as he takes in every single word you're saying. He'll nod and hum, but his ears are flicked towards you, and Shadow will ask questions pertaining about the characters.

The motherfucker is healing you slowly but surely, mentally and sometimes physically.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

No one thinks that Shadow would be a good companion and will make jokes offhandily that they're sorry that YOU'RE stuck with him, and you don't correct them. They don't deserve to know him.

They don't get to know how the lifeform curls up next to you on his bad days, seeking your affection.

The hedgehog who helps you dry the dishes after every meal with a way too focused look on his face.

The Shadow that always cracks dry ass jokes in hopes to make you smile after a long day.

It's your little secret, and it's one you gladly keep to yourself.

"Oh, he's stuck with me." You wave them off with a smug smirk on your face.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

[princessbrunette]

⊹ ᜊ(ᜊ ´ ˘)੭ ♡ … SLIM PICKINS ♡

track nine of the short n’sweet series. pairing: bountyhunter!rafe x reader. based loosely on the song slim pickins by sabrina carpenter. enjoy! ໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა

maybe you were just understimulated and bored. maybe you kind of liked when he got jealous.

you sit at his side on a bench outside the motel room for a while when you bring it up. he’s stiff, got you pinned to his side with an arm around you like someone forced him to do it. you figured he was trying to bond, show affection — but still had that little fear you’d just up and run off. the two of you stare out over the desert and a horse whinnies in the distance.

“y’know i had a boyfriend ‘fore you stole me.” you tell him quietly. you try not to sound accusatory, voice quiet enough to do so but his nose twitches to turn up anyway.

“you…what?”

“on the barn. where i lived.” you begin, treading carefully and he turns to glance at you, curious. “he lived in the farmhouse the other side of the land. my age. we knew eachother since we were little, used to play on the tire swing in my garden. only recently he became my boyfriend.” you reminisce and rafes spine tingles and his neck feels a little hotter at the way there’s still a tinge of sadness to your voice after all this time of travelling with him. nothing was ever enough for you.

however, he’s got nothing else to do and he’s curious.

“yeah? what’s this boyfriend of yours like then?” he drawls, clearly unimpressed but you seem unshaken. rafe had talked to you in crueller ways before.

“brown hair… brown eyes. he was really generous, would do anything for my family. sometimes he played it a little safe i mean, he waited so long to even ask to kiss me but… he was sweet. i miss when men were sweet.”

“i can be sweet. i’m so damn good to you.” rafe blurts out, and you nearly laugh because of how irritated he sounds in contrast.

“you kidnapped me.”

“ugh— right, ‘cus— ‘cus it’s always my fault right? you know my dad made me— whatever.” he steams off into a lecture and you relax at his side, unbothered. it almost bothered him more that you didn’t react to his explosiveness anymore, especially at a moment like this. you were still thinking of him.

he sighs, petulantly and sits back in his seat too, rubbing beneath his nose, legs spread casually as he thinks. you figure that would be that, and you knew not to poke the bear. surprisingly, after a minute — rafe speaks again.

“if you could… if you could go back n��be on that barn where i took you from… would you… would you be there, with him?” he gets bashful and snappy, enunciating with a flat hand extended. rafe always talked with his hands and you found it interesting.

truly, you don’t know. to pose such a complex question after all the time you’d spent together made that line appear between your brows. he doesn’t have to look at you to feel you shrug.

several hours later and he’s got your face in a pillow, ass in the air. no matter what kind of day the two of you had, what kind of conversations bestowed upon you — if rafe needed to get his dick wet, that was exactly what would happen. he’s basically in your guts, and you’re sobbing so loud as your walls spasm around him that you’re sure the motel would receive noise complaints.

a coarse hand slides up your spine and grips the back of your neck as he pounds you before he slots around to the front to hold your throat off the bed, bicep bulging at the position. he talks, and it takes you a second to digest it. you’re not used to conversation out of dirty talk.

“did he ever make you feel good like this? that— that boyfriend of yours?” he grits his teeth. you shake your head, mouth too occupied with forming an ‘o’ shape as he hits a new spot and he lightly smacks your cheek. just hard enough to regain your attention. “yeah you better use those words—”

“no! no— he didn’t.” you pant like a puppy, a string of drool still attached to the pillow from your lip.

“uh huh. yeah i fuckin’ bet.” he chases you up the bed a little when you arch away, too sensitive and holds you down, continuing to rough house your sore pussy. “might’ve been good to you but he wouldn’t fuck you like this huh? wouldn’t make you cum this god damn hard.”

you respond something, but by this point it’s muffled — head dropped into the pillow suffocating all sound. gripping the hair at the back of your head, he yanks your head up and licks his lips, determined to hear you. “nah, speak.”

“too— mmph—”

“yeah?”

“too nice! he was too nice!” you wail, walls fluttering and he huffs out a smirked chuckle, jaw clenching as he uses you like a sex toy.

“mm. that’s uh, that’s real fucked up baby. just needed a big mean man to get you right, huh?”

rafe was fucked up, but he wasn’t often wrong.

[randxmthxughts]

Human Stuff - Neteyam x Human! Reader (afab)

summary: the one where a confused na’vi teenager tries to comfort his human friend while she’s on her period 

warnings: menstruation talk, feeding food

wc: 2.3k

a/n: can you tell that i’m on my period and this is all i want rn

also, neteyam not knowing about periods can be canon? i just read that na’vi are non-placental, so they most likely don’t menstruate like primates. eywa be looking out for her girlies lol. but what do i know

masterlist

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Neteyam walks into the science facility confidently, knowing every nook and cranny like the back of his hand. Growing up, he has spent countless hours here with his siblings, and especially lately, he has been here every other day. His eyes search for you through the glass windows of the labs where he knows he is not allowed to step a foot in, ears perked up for a sign of you, even though it’s awfully quiet. The facility is mostly empty, and he assumes that the rest of the group is probably in their avatar bodies, busy with research. But it’s you that he’s looking for. 

Ever since you arrived at Pandora, Neteyam liked you right away. Roughly translated, the two of you were close in age, and had similar humor. Your father was the team lead of entomologists, and since you weren’t an actual scientist like the rest of the group, you had a lot of spare time to spend with Neteyam, exploring the forests. Your weekly meet ups with him became so familiar, that when you don’t show up at your regular meeting spot, Neteyam has to come and fetch you himself.

So here he is, walking through the labs, wondering if you had forgotten about your plans and were out with the others. It takes him some courage to sneak his head into the sleeping area, where he knew humans slept. Neteyam also knew very well that he wasn’t allowed back there because he could accidentally knock over things with his massive frame but he just needs to check. And his gut feeling isn’t wrong. You are laying in your bed, your back turned to him, completely unaware of his presence. Neteyam takes notice of how little you look with your body curled into a ball. 

At first, he assumes you’re asleep. A small smile stretches his lips, as he sneaks up on you planning to scare you awake for abandoning your plans. But as he readies himself for the loud growl, a small whimper escapes from your lips.

Neteyam stops in his tracks, his ears perking up immediately at the sound. He thought he had imagined it, but that theory gets quickly disproven when he hears another whimper. Moving quickly, he rounds your bed to confirm his suspicions. You jerk up at the sight of his big frame looming over you.

“Neteyam, what the hell?” your heart starts racing. 

“I didn’t mean to sneak up on you, sorry,” he slowly crouches down in front of your bed, with a guilty expression on his face.

You throw an annoyed look at him before wrapping your arms around your middle again, and pressing your face into the pillow. You don’t want him to see your face. Neteyam doesn’t move, watching you.

“Go away,” you mumble, hoping that for once he will just comply. 

“Did you forget about our plans?” he asks, ignoring your previous words, “Are you sleeping?”

“I am not sleeping,” you mutter angrily into the pillow.

Neteyam can’t quite put his finger on it but he knows that something strange is happening to you. Maybe it was the scent? Of course, he was used to your scent, he could sense you from a mile away because it always stood out to him. It wasn’t necessarily bad or good, it’s just the way he recognized you. But right now, for some reason, it was so intense, like somebody gathered it into a perfume bottle and sprayed it right into his nostrils. 

He instinctively sniffs the air, and you cringe out of embarrassment, wishing you were dead right at this moment. Stupid periods, stupid cramps, stupid human bodies. If only you were back home right now, indulging in comfort food and taking your usual painkillers that could soothe the pain. Whatever you had found in the lab's aid kit was clearly not strong enough, and you suspect that the pressure on Pandora is making it even worse.

Tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes as another painful cramp surges through your already sore muscles.

"Y/N, are you hurt?" Neteyam asks, attempting to turn you to your side so he can see your face. You grumble in annoyance, resisting his movements.

"Can you please just leave me alone?" you snap at him.

“But what about our plans?” Neteyam stares at you confused.

“I’m canceling them,” you huff, “I’m going through some human-stuff.”

It feels like your insides are being twisted and squeezed over and over again. You place a hand on your lower belly, hoping to suit the pain, but it only gets worse. Noticing the way your face grimaces, Neteyam stands up.

“You’re in pain,” he states, “I will go for Tsahik.”

“No!” you protest, “No Tsahik!”

“But you look unwell,” he hesitates, unsure of what to do.

“No Tsahik!” you squeeze your eyes shut, feeling another cramp, “It’s a human thing, the pain will pass soon.”

Something about Neteyam standing there and watching you, makes you feel embarrassed. You already felt weak in comparison to him, whenever you tried to keep up with his running through the forest or climbing trees. He loved teasing you about it, and you don’t need another reason for him to poke fun at you. Your hand clutches one of the pillows under your head, and you sit up to shoo him away.

“Go away, you’re not allowed to be here,” you threaten him, raising your pillow in the air.

Neteyam frowns, still not moving. Angry at his sudden stubbornness, you throw the pillow at him with as much force as you can.

“Go!” you shout at him again.

Neteyam easily dodges the pillow but finally backs away from your bed. He knows that when you get angry at him, it’s because you’re embarrassed about something. He just can’t grasp what this “human stuff” is and why is it making you so stressed. Neteyam thought he knew plenty about humans from his dad, but Jake had never mentioned anything like this.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Neteyam is so confused on his way out of the facility that he barely notices Norm and almost bumps into him. Fortunately, Norm was in his avatar body and wasn't trampled by the teenage Na'vi. He chuckles at the way Neteyam doesn’t even stop to acknowledge him and keeps walking.

“You okay, kid?” Norm calls out after Neteyam, finally catching his attention.

“Norm, you’re one of the sky people,” Neteyam turns around. 

“I am,” Norm confirms with another chuckle, “Something bothering you?”

“Yeah… Can you tell me what is this ‘human stuff’ that you go through?”

Norm cocks his head, the question sounding so ridiculous, he assumes it’s a joke. But Neteyam looks serious.

“What ‘human stuff’?”

“I’m not sure but it looks like it is painful,” Neteyam shakes his head, “I just saw Y/N, and she was laying in her bed, and crying. It looked like something was hurting her, but she wouldn’t tell me what. Only said it was ‘human stuff’.”

“Maybe she’s just having a stomachache or something?” Norm shrugs.

“That’s what I thought. But when I wanted to get Tsahik for her, she got mad at me. Said that it will pass on its own.”

“I don’t know, man, I don’t understand women sometimes,” Norm replies, then a sudden realization hits him, “Ooooh…”

“What?” Neteyam’s ears perk up, “What is it?”

“I don’t want to jump to any conclusions, but she might just be on her period.”

“Period?” it was an unfamiliar word.

“Yeah, women get it every month,” Norm explains but it only seems to confuse Neteyam further, “Okay, so I’m probably not the best person for this but sit down.”

After what seems like an hour passes, Neteyam gives up on the human biology lesson with Norm. He sort of gets the idea of menstruation but he can’t imagine what it feels like, no matter how hard he tries. All he gets from this conversation is that Y/N needs to rest to feel better, and that the food she craves can help ease the pain? He is an alien; he has no idea what she wants.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“Y/N?” Neteyam’s soft voice catches your attention.

The medicine you took earlier finally seems to work, and you feel slightly better. You prop yourself up on your elbows and see Neteyam walk into the room. A few colorful plastic bags in his hands catch your attention; these were usually hidden away in the very back of the kitchen cabinets for special occasions. Your mouth salivates at the sight of the chips and the cookies. 

“Are you feeling better?” Neteyam asks, now crouching down next to your bed.

You nod, sitting up, feeling a little guilty for shooing him away earlier. 

“I stole these from the secret stash,” he grimaces, laying out the bags on your blanket.

“My father is going to kill you for this,” you chuckle, reaching for the chips.

Neteyam smiles softly, as he watches you open the bag and fetch a few chips into your mouth. With a loud crunch, you munch on those with a giddy smile, then offer him some. Without much hesitation, Neteyam opens his mouth widely, letting you feed him a handful. You can’t help but chuckle at his blissful reaction to the taste; it was always fun for you to introduce Neteyam to human snacks. Your father got mad at you sometimes for it but you liked sneaking some for Neteyam, just to see him try it out. The sweets seemed to be too intense for him, but he liked salty things. 

“Good?” you ask him. Neteyam hums, then opens his mouth again, signaling for more. 

You chuckle before feeding him another handful. Though a teenager, Neteyam still required much more feeding than you did. So if you had a couple of chips at a time, Neteyam had to have a triple to fill his mouth.

“How did you know to bring these?” you ask him, now reaching for the bag of cookies. 

From your previous tastings, you knew that Neteyam didn’t like chocolate chip cookies. Or anything with chocolate, to be fair. You did not hide your disappointment the first time he almost gagged at the chocolate kiss you gave him, offended by the way his eyes teared up.

“Norm told me that your favorite food can help,” he shrugged, watching you bite down on a cookie.

Your eyes closed in satisfaction as you chewed on it, savoring the taste that filled your mouth. You haven’t had those in a long time.

“Help with what?” you open your eyes again.

“Your human thing,” Neteyam gestures at your stomach.

“Did Norm tell you what it means?” 

You feel heat flush to your cheeks, when Neteyam nods his head. You’re not sure why but the thought of Neteyam knowing makes you feel a little embarrassed. Not because there was anything embarrassing about getting a period. You just couldn’t imagine how weird it might be for him to know that you were bleeding out right at this moment, and he could probably smell it.

“Do you want to cuddle?” his voice catches your attention again. Where did he get that from?

You gulp down nervously, confused at how nonchalant he is. Maybe it’s not a big deal to him? He probably just wants to be supportive.

“Cuddle? Like, with you?” you clarify.

“Who else?” Neteyam chuckles, standing up.

He doesn’t wait for your response, instead gently nudging you to move to the middle of your bed. He was too big for it, so instead of laying down next to you, Neteyam decides to act like your headboard. You watch in confusion, as he slings his left foot over the bed and sits down, pressing his back against the wall, and setting down pillows on his lap. 

“Come on,” Neteyam pats the pillows, encouraging you to lay down.

You hesitate for a second, before laying down, as Neteyam’s huge frame hangs over you. He smiles at how small you look, gently propping up the pillows under your head to make sure you’re comfortable.

“This is a little weird,” you sigh, looking up at his face. 

Neteyam only chuckles and grabs the bag of cookies. He takes one out and offers it to you, bringing it to your mouth. As you open up to take a bite, Neteyam suddenly moves it out of your reach. You huff.

"Please, do not choke," he warns, before finally letting you bite into the cookie.

Eventually, you find yourself sitting up, leaning against his chest. As you swallow the bite, Neteyam feeds you again, listening to the satisfied sounds you make. 

“Feel better about the human stuff?” he nudges your shoulder.

“Much better, thank you,” you turn a little to look at his face.

While you were spending a lot of time with him, you’ve never found yourself in such close proximity with him. It felt weird but comforting. Like he offered you some sort of protection, a shield. 

“Can I ask what it feels like?” Neteyam breaks the silence, “Norm was sweating trying to explain it to me.”

You laugh at the thought of Norm trying to explain human biology to him. Nestling against Neteyam's chest, you make yourself comfortable and start talking. You both enjoy the snacks he brought, and occasionally he comforts you by rubbing small circles on your shoulders and arms. As the evening wears on, you start to feel tired and eventually doze off in his arms.

[cat9901234]

Meet cutes NYC

In which during the Miami race, a certain power couple gets interviewed and finally reveal the details of how they met.

warnings: none.

childhoodsweetheart! reader x lewis hamilton

“Excuse me, sorry are you two a couple?” the man walks up to them, catching Lewis and especially his wife by surprise.

“We are,” Lewis smiles proudly

“Could you guys please tell me the story of how the two of you met?”

Lewis’ face instantly lights up and y/n laughs at her husband's reaction, not remembering the last time she had been asked that. “That’s a long story-, oh my god wait I think I've seen you guys on uh Insta right?"

"Yes, we go around mainly New York to ask couples how they met," the interviewer informs. “We’ve got time,” Lewis shrugs, “as long you're alright with it?” He looks at his wife knowing well y/n was always the private one about her personal life.

“Is it for your channel or something?” y/n asks politely, still a little hesitant about the idea.

“We go around all over New york but also around the world asking couples how they’ve met,” he shows them their instagram page. Y/n's eyes widen at the large following count and is satisfied about their legitimacy. 

“Sure why not, but again it’s a long story,” she laughs leaning her head on her husband’s shoulder. “Do you want to start us off?”

“We met when we were eight, I believe y/n was new to the area at the time. Anyways, I actually was on the playground by myself, didn’t have any friends at the time but this one comes along and walks up to me and compliments me because she saw me in a newspaper. We were at the time one of the very few coloured people in our school. We then became inseparable and very close with my family. She even used to look after my brother when I was away during races.”

“Almost every holiday break I would come down and watch him race, that's actually how I met Susie and Seb and Nico,” Y/n adds. 

“She used to always buy me these chocolates from the news agency for my birthday each year and we would split it, at the time because I was putting all my money into racing. But anyways, when we were fifteen, I asked her out to become my girlfriend, I was also racing more but like we would always write letters and email to contact each other. I would always get her to fly over and spend time with me during holiday breaks so we could spend more time together, hang out. When we graduated actually, I asked her to marry me,” he bashfully said, rubbing the back of his neck as his wife blushed at the memory and covered her face with her hand.

“Really?” the interviewer exclaims.

“Yeah,” Lewis nods, “you know like I didn’t want to be apart from her. She you know was—, is my everything. She believed in me when no one else wouldn’t.” 

“So what happened?”

“Well you know at the time we were so young and both so ambitious in our own rights. I think what was going through my head at the time was that we had so much to discover about ourselves and definitely at that age the relationship with the media and Lewis’ career on the rise wouldn't have worked. Also, the fact that I wanted to do so many things as well for myself would have held Lewis back, and I knew deep within me that I would have been selfish for that," Y/n continues. "You know he means so much to young kids of colour, to fans of formula one, etc and that was that. So you know we talked about it, cried and yelled about it but in the end it was very mutual and we both understood. So we broke it off—”

“Sorry, but I remember her saying you know after all the crying and yelling that I was gonna date around actresses and models, marry a model slash actress and stuff. But I remember clear as day I said to her that I wasn’t going to marry anyone if wasn’t her; and she thought I was joking—”

“Well I mean hello he was what seventeen/eighteen at the time. Also what he said was just a coincidence,” y/n cuts in.

“Nuh. Nuh, I didn’t realise it till after I married you,” he teased. Y/n rolls her eyes at his cheesiness that has the interviewer smiling from cheek to cheek.

“Anyways, long story short, we met through Nicholas, Lewis' brother. He was in Uganda helping out a charity I helped organise with a friend where we were building a school. From memory he posted about us to get some views for donating,” Y/n summed it up.

“The moment I saw it I immediately asked Nico for her contacts because I just wanted to meet her. We were in contact for about a month before I invited her to a race, we then immediately hit it off like and we dated for a year then got married.”

“Wow,” the person breathed, “so you’ve known each other since you were eight. What would you say is your favourite thing about each other?”

Y/n chuckles as Lewis can’t help but laugh at her too. 

“I think for me,” Y/n starts, “is how giving he is and how much attention he pays. Like you know even back when we were kids he would always try to get me small things like for example when I visited him in 2003 he gave me this necklace here actually,” she shows off the simple pearl pendant necklace, “because I mentioned once that I really liked pearls because from memory were talking about gemstones. But like even now he’s just so thoughtful and stuff.”

“For me it’s her kindness, and she’s always looked past first appearances cause like for me personally I was never anyone’s first choice. Whether that was games or-, or on the playground—, she chose me first and that meant so much. You know, even with my brother, she didn’t think much of it, she was never embarrassed about being seen with him, playing with him and making sure he feels included like that’s when I knew I was in love with her,” Lewis explained.

“Well, thank you guys so much!"

"no worries man, take care."

[weemssapphic]

Larissa x Reader headcanons ?

This is just a random assortment of headcanons I have, some NSFW some not!

Larissa is usually an early riser due to work and has made it a habit to make coffee/tea for you in the mornings - on the rare occasions where she sleeps in, you do the same for her, and it manages to make her blush every time.

You usually have to remind her to eat - she often forgets when she's stressed and focused on work, and you're often reminding her to take breaks and have a snack (or drink water, to which she'll reply that the water in her coffee counts).

Larissa is a messy sleeper and drools in her sleep. Sometimes she even snores softly. She denies both vehemently, but you find it adorable, the stark contrast to how poised she is during her waking hours.

All of the pins in her hair can get quite painful after a long day, and there's nothing either of you love more than you insisting on pulling the pins out of her updo and massaging her scalp, as she lets her guard down and lets you take care of her. Also, she'll never say no to foot rubs after kicking off her heels for the evening.

She's always so in control in her professional life that she secretly enjoys giving up that control to you (once she realizes she can trust you, of course). This can look like her letting you make decisions like what to eat for dinner, or like relinquishing all control in the bedroom and letting you dominate her.

At the beginning of your relationship, it took Larissa ages to realize you were flirting with her - and even longer to open up to you fully. Once she does, though, she's all in, and you're as much of a safety net for her as she is for you.

After almost forgetting your anniversary one month due to a stressful week at work, she's put it in her calendar and sets reminders for herself, intent on spoiling you and showing you she cares. In spite of her busy schedule, she manages to make time for you and tries to remember little details about you, even things you've said in passing.

She's not big on PDA - it took her a while to work up to being comfortable holding hands or giving chaste kisses in public, and she won't initiate PDA in any sort of professional setting. That doesn't mean no one knows you're together, however - she's happy to mention you to anyone, any chance she gets, and everyone knows you're together.

One thing she does like to do in public however is touch your lower back when she's walking behind you - she knows the touch drives you wild and, sometimes, enjoys riling you up a bit knowing what'll happen when you get a moment of privacy.

You can read Larissa like a book, and the opposite is true as well - when you're out in public, you can tell by subtle expressions how juicy the debrief on the ride home is going to be, and there's nothing either of you love more than just talking to one another.

Larissa can get quite jealous, though she's too stubborn to admit it. It makes her more clingy, which you think is cute, but she'd deny it until she's blue in the face.

Larissa loves your tits. Looking at them, touching them, making your nipples hard - it's one of her favorite (sexual) things about you.

She's a huge fan of oral sex - especially giving, and she loves dressing up in lingerie and letting you order her around and use her mouth for your own pleasure.

Her lower abdomen is an erogenous zone for her, and she loves when you kiss her there. Her neck and her inner thighs are other sensitive spots for her, and she goes weak in the knees when you kiss behind her ears.

[strawberrynull]

──౨ৎ ˙💌 ̟ hallway crush (Ep.2)

엔하이픈 | Enhypen | Nishimura Riki

──Pairing: idol!niki x afab!idol!reader

──Genre: fluff, angst

──Synopsis: To Jung Y/n, it is an honor to be working with Enhypen. After finding out he will be mc on a show with her, Riki stresses over making a good impression.

──Warnings: cursing

──A/N: Chapter 2 is outttttt!! SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG. I'm kinda worried this won't reach enough Engenes so please like and reblog for me <3

──Word Count: 2k

masterlist part one

Riki arrived back at Enhypens shared dorm way later than intended. There was still an evident blush painted on his cheeks as he was thinking about when he was noticed by the prettiest girl he had ever seen. He wasn't even worried about the time at this point. He was to focused on replaying the scene over and over again in his mind.

His hands continued to shake as he twisted the door handle and opened the door. Riki made his way into the kitchen where he found Heeseung, Sunghoon, and Sunoo had been waiting for him. Heeseung, who was the most pissed off at the youngest, noticed the pink hue dusted on his cheeks.

"So, how's your sneaky link you've been skipping dinner to see?" Riki flinched at Heeseungs sudden accusation, cocking an eyebrow. "We've always eaten dinner at 8 and suddenly you're coming home hours later and going straight to your room. I know what's going on." The boy didn't even have a chance to defend himself before Sunghoon added to the accusations.

"We're not stupid, Riki. You've got to be seeing someone in the building. Heeseung tracked your phone."

"You weren't supposed to tell him that." The eldest groaned.

"You know, they don't hire staff at his age so it would have to be an idol!" Sunoo piped excitedly. "So, what group is she from?"

"Come on guys, this is ridiculous." Riki sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"My guess is Newjeans. It's someone from Newjeans, isn't it?" Sunghoon asked confidently, with a smirk.

Heeseung shook his head disapprovingly. "Not a chance. She's definitely an illit member. My guess is Iroha. She's like... a girl copy of him." He explained. The other two both gave a long 'ohhhhh' nodding their heads.

"You're both wrong. I'm not seeing anyone." Riki tried to argue back.

Then, Sunghoon gasped, coming to a realization. "He asked about that new group, Star Stride, the other day. You're seeing a member of Star Stride, aren't you?"

"What!? That's bullshit guys. I-" He was cut off my Sunoo who began yelling.

"Yes! I knew it! Jungwon, you owe me 30,000 won!" He yelled to Jungwon, who was sitting in the living room.

"No, that's- wait, you guys placed bets on me?" Riki's eyes widened in shock, taking a bit of offense to this.

"I mean... you can't really blame them. You did ditch us all for a whole week without explanation doing whatever the hell you were doing. Whether it be seeing someone or not." Heeseung deadpanned.

Riki took a moment to think. He wanted to tell them all about the beautiful girl from Star Stride that just so happened to be the main rapper of the group just like him. He wanted to boast about how good their songs were, especially when she was singing. He could talk about her for hours given the chance. He wanted to tell the boys how you were unlike any girl he had ever seen.

But at the same time, Riki wanted to keep her a secret. He wanted the boys to quit bothering him about her. He didn't want anyone else to see her the way he did. He didn't want anyone else's hearts to flutter for the pretty rapper. He wanted to hide her from everyone and keep her for himself.

"You guys aren't going to leave me alone until I tell you, huh?" Riki sighed with crossed arms as the boys shook their heads. Jungwon made his way into the kitchen just in time to hear the youngests' confession. Fuck. Now he had to tell them. "Fine... Jung Y/n. She's the main rapper. But I'm not seeing her. We are just friends."

"Damn it! Rapper! Not dancer." Heeseung slammed his hand onto the counter.

Sunoo squeeled, shaking Riki by the shoulders. "You like the main rapper!? That's so perfect! And so... you!" Jungwon groaned and placed 30,000 won on the counter in front of his hyung.

"N-no! I just said I'm not seeing her!" Riki whined, brushing Sunoos hands off his shoulders.

"Just because you're not seeing her, that doesn't deny that you like her." Sunoo cooed, waving the won in front of the youngers' face.

Riki groaned and rolled his eyes. "Can we just stop talking about it?" He asked, trying to push past the other boys to hide in his room. He opened the door and slammed it shut behind him. He plopped down face first onto his bed with an angry pout.

A few hours later, Riki still laid in the same spot. There was a knock at his door that he refused to answer. After a few more attempts to get the youngests attention, the door was opened and Jaeyun peered around the open door.

"Hey, manager is on the phone. He has news for us and said all of us should hear it." He said softly, hoping not to aggravate him. "We'll be uh... waiting in the kitchen." Jaeyun took one last hopeful glance before exiting and shutting the door as he left. After a few more minutes of moping, Riki reluctantly got up from his bed and made his way to the kitchen.

When he got to the kicthen, the boys were already on the phone with their manager. They all turned to Riki with relief; since he had finally joined them, the manager would tell them the news.

Heeseung quickly informed the manager that Riki was now with them, queuing the manager to tell them the news they had been waiting for.

"Enhypen will be on a show as MCs next week. This will be on Friday." He explained through the phone. The boys all looked at each other with amusement. "You will be MC with another group."

"Will we be MC with Ive again?" Sunghoon asked curiously. ENhypen was often on shows with Ive.

"Err- no... not Ive this time. You will be with the new girl group, Star Stride." Upon the managers news, the 6 older boys all turned to look at Riki.

"Fuck are you looking at?" He whispered back with a harsh glare.

"Now, unfortunately only one member from each group will actually be MC." The manager added. Now this made the boys really curious.

"Who are the 2 MCs then?" Jay asked.

"That is still to be determined. I will let you know as soon as it's been decided." And with that, the manager finished his announcement and hung up, leaving the boys wondering.

Jungwon came up and elbowed Riki in the side with a sly smirk. "I bet you're hoping you and y/n will be MC, am I right?"

Riki groaned, pulling his hood over his head. "Shut uppppp" he grumbled while walking back to his room. He shut the door and threw himself back onto his bed. He then pulled out his phone and opened the calendar app. He typed "I get to see Y/n" on Fridays events. He then buried his face in his blankets with an obvious blush painted on his face. His mind was racing, as well as his heart. Riki couldn't help but imagine the possible scenarios if him and y/n actually got to MC together. (he forgot his delulu pills) He groaned, trying not to think about it anymore. He was so down bad after seeing her only two times. It made him feel ridiculous.

He decided to shower and go to bed to take his mind off it. Unfortunately for him, he couldn't sleep. His mind just couldn't stop racing. He needed to hear from his manager who would be the two MC's. The suspense was driving him insane. Riki was seriously stressing over who Hybe would pick. He was hoping and praying that it would be him and y/n, but of course he would never admit to it. He tossed and turned, trying to fall asleep and trying to push next week to the back of his mind.

Eventually morning came, giving Riki no rest. He got up from his bed annoyed that he couldn't fall sleep. Nobody else was awake yet when he started getting ready and headed out to the dance room. Maybe an early morning dance practice would keep his mind busy.

Boy was he wrong.

He opened the door to the practice room to find none other than the girl who had been on his mind all night. There stood Y/n in the middle of the practice room, dancing to... wait... was that his AOTM choreography?

Jung Y/n noticed him lurking in the doorway and froze, eyes widened. She then bowed quickly and ran to her phone to pause her music which was still playing. After the music was paused, y/n glanced back at the doorway. When she saw that Riki was still there, she flinched slightly.

"I'm sorry, did you need to use the dance room? I can leave." She spoke as she quickly gathered her stuff.

"No! You can stay," He said, shaking his head. "but, um... were you practicing my AOTM choreography?"

The girl bit her lip as the tips of her ears reddened. "Uh... y-yeah" she spoke quietly, probably out of embarrassment.

"I only saw a little bit of it but from what I saw, you were doing really well." Riki commented, closing the door and stepping closer to her. "Can you maybe show me the full dance?"

Y/n nodded hesitantly and restarted her music. Riki watched her dance, hypnotized and dazed. She was a great dancer. There was something about her dance style that Riki really liked but he couldn't quite figure out what it was. There were a few moves that she had gotten wrong or frozen because she had forgotten. Otherwise, the rest of the dance she performed perfectly. Riki clapped as she ended the dance, to which she quietly laughed at.

"Ah please don't clap. I didn't do very well that time. I messed up a lot." She explained, waving her hands in front of her.

"That's alright. It was still great." He said, walking toward her. "I can help you with the moves you messed up on, if you'd like." Riki suggested and her eyes lit up.

"Really?" she asked.

"Of course." He gave her a soft smile. "Let's start with the first move you forgot." Riki helped y/n remember moves she forgot and helped her fix moved she messed up. The two ended up practicing together for several hours. The whole time, Riki could feel his heart racing in his chest. He was worried y/n might hear his racing heartbeat.

After a few hours of practicing with Jung Y/n, Riki's phone started to ring. He stopped dancing and picked up his phone. Jake was on the other line.

"Hyung, whats up?"

"You should come back. Our manager has news about the show." Jake explained. Riki's eyes widened. He quickly hung up and explained to Y/n that Enhypens manager wanted to speak to all of them. He excused himself from the practice room and dashed back to the dorms as quick as he could.

Just like last time, everyone was waiting for Riki in the kitchen when he arrived. He tossed his stuff down and made his way to the kitchen to hear what the manager had to say. After beating around the bush for around 5 minutes, the manager finally announced the two MC's for next week's show. Who would have guessed, it was Riki and Y/n.

Manager was quick to hang up after the news, as he was busy with preparations. The 6 older boys turned to the youngest. Riki dropped his head into his hands and groaned.

"Really, don't even say anything." He said and turned to shut himself in his room again. He could hear the others start laughing after his door was shut. His face had turned bright red as he face planted onto his bed. He couldn't believe this was real. He was actually going to be an MC with y/n. Was he dreaming? Thankfully not. He felt giddy as he thought about the show next Friday.

His wish had really come true.

© strawberrynull, 2024. Do not copy my work. Please DM for permission before translating or reuploading. Thank You

Taglist: @d-dilemma @lynnlynnyuu @mantees

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2024: October 4th

Day 4: Sensory Deprivation // Leather or Latex // Watersports

Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Mention of drugs, body fluids/urine, unprotected sex, riding, mentions of threesomes, shame, releasing bladders, premature ejaculation

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

It’s probably the dirtiest secret that Dieter has ever had and that’s saying something considering he has publicly had two girlfriends on his arm on the red carpet, had countless flings with men and women alike, thrown drug fueled orgies at his Sherman Oaks mansion with no shame, but no one has ever suspected that he was into this. 

It had just popped out of his mouth and he completely blames the Molly that he had taken with that last bump of coke. His eyes are wide and hands frozen over your tits as he squeezes them. Looking almost comical as he short circuits, his cock almost instantly going soft inside you. 

“What?” You had to have misheard him. There’s no way that just came out of his mouth.

“What? No, nothing. I didn’t say anything.” Dieter gets loud when he is protesting, especially when he is lying and right now, he is screeching at the top of his lungs. Now that he has snapped out of that glitch, his eyes are begging you to just pretend like you hadn’t heard him and forget that it happened. “Come on, just move already.” He urges in a whiny tone and rocks his hips up, nearly bouncing you off him. 

Your hand slaps against his chest, making him freeze again and he closes his eyes, flinching slightly as if he was anticipating a slap. Only to slowly peel one eye open to peek at you cautiously. 

“You want me to pee on you?” You try so very hard to keep your voice even, to not interject any kind of judgment into your tone, knowing that Dieter would shut down and you would never know if it was a true desire or something that just suddenly appears in his mind and is word vomited out of his mouth without any thought. That happens a lot with him, especially when he’s high because his normally rare filter is non-existent. 

“No……” He huffs. “Yes? Maybe? I don’t know, just forget about it.” He flusters, his eyes cutting away from you guiltily, which means that he had meant it. He’s panicking and trying now to show that he’s panicking.

“Dee.” You lean down and caress his cheek, turning his head back towards you with a little effort since he’s resisting and you press a soft kiss to his lips. Wanting to reassure him that you are still right here. He twitches slightly, hardening slightly since you haven’t moved and he’s still snug inside your cunt. He loves physicality, touch more than anything. 

Dieter huffs, his entire body deflating and he licks his lips before he nibbles on the bottom one. Another little tell that he is feeling insecure. It’s sometimes hard to read over the overly cocky persona, but Dieter is more neurotic and emotional than he would have people know. “Can’t we just forget about it?” He whines softly, waggling his brows playfully. “Just fuck me.” 

Another distraction tactic, but you shake your head. “No, if it’s something you want, we need to talk about it.” 

He blinks, brows immediately pulling together since you didn’t tell him ‘no’. It’s not like you’ve told him no very often. You are willing to play with toys, you have no problem dominating him when he wants to be subby, and you’ve even considered giving him a threesome. Especially if it’s Hugh Jackman willing to join you. 

“I- are you serious?” He asks warily, biting his lip when you nod and lean in, kissing you back this time. “You- you don’t think I’m disgusting?” 

You snort quietly. “I think you're disgusting when you carry a Kit Kat around in your robe without the wrapper on it and eat it after two days.” You tease softly. “Or when you eat beans knowing how bad your gas will get. But this? No.” 

His brows lift, an almost grin gracing his face but he doesn’t give into it yet. He knows you are right about those things being disgusting, but he can’t help it. “So….”

“So it's something you really want?” You want to clarify and you feel his body start to tighten back up under you. Either because you aren’t freaking out at him or because he really does find the idea of that super hot. He nods after a second and you nod too. “Okay, are we talking about what, exactly?” 

“Just, uh, you know-” He fumbles, not exactly sure what he had been thinking about exactly when it had been blurted out. He just wants to experience it, the idea of it is erotic and taboo. 

“Do you want me to….pee in your mouth?” You ask hesitantly, knowing that you will have an issue with kissing him after. 

“No.” He wrinkles his nose instantly and you breathe a sigh of relief, almost giggling at how disgusted he looked by that. “No, I don’t want you to pee on my head either.” He squirms under you and you feel him twitch again, almost fully hard again. 

“So….” You encourage, clenching down around him and making him groan. Sitting on his cock was not the way you ever expected to be talking through the discovery of a new kink that one of you has. “Just like this?” You ask, wondering if he wanted you to piss on him while he was fucking you. 

“I- that could be good.” Dieter sounds a little breathless, looking down to where your clit is pressing against his pelvis and the small happy trail of hair. “Really good.” His eyes are more glazed than normal and you don’t think it’s from the drugs this time. 

You hum slightly as you slowly start to rock your hips. Starting to ride him like you had been right before he had blurted out that surprisingly demand. “So you want me to ruin the bed?” You ask, swiveling your hips and making him hiss when your walls squeeze him tight. “Use you like you’re my personal toilet?” 

It might not not be your thing, or something that you would have ever even thought about doing, but it’s obvious from the way that Dieter’s hips buck up and he gasps that it does something for him. His eyes roll back and he nods frantically. “Yes, fuck, please.” He begs. 

You bite your lip as you concentrate on riding him, feeling him start to get back into the rhythm as you don’t pull away or refuse him. Hands sliding back up to your tits and squeezing them harshly before plucking at your nipples almost gently. “Imagined it a lot.” He confesses breathlessly. “When you- you pee when I’m in the bathroom.” 

Very quickly in your relationship/suitationship with Dieter, you had gotten comfortable with him. Because there is no such thing as personal space when you are with Dieter Bravo. He will come into the bathroom when you are peeing, when you are in the bath. The only thing that you put your foot down on was if you were not peeing and on the toilet. 

“And you thought about me just expelling my bladder on you?” You tilt your head to the side and smirk. “And why you were soooooo disappointed that I’ve never squirted before?” You guess, making him grin guiltily. 

“Yeah.” He huffs, rocking his hips up. “But you think you- are you seriously considering it?” He asks hopefully. 

You could do it now, you alway have to pee a little and there is a waterproof protective layer under the sheets anyway. Dieter loves to bring drinks and food into the bed and you don’t like sleeping in damp spots. If you were to do it, it’s just a matter of stripping the sheets and changing the protective layer. 

“You want me to, right now?” You tease, making his eyes widen and he chokes out a sound while he tenses his entire body like he is trying not to cum. 

“Ohhhh god.” Dieter closes his eyes, his fingers digging into your hips and he nods so fucking quickly you think he might make himself dizzy. “Do it, fucking soak me, baby.” He begs. 

You roll your hips, still riding him and it takes you a moment before you do it. Applying pressure to those muscles that control your bladder and you feel the rush of heat before you clench down around Dieter instinctively, like your body is trying to prevent what is happening. 

It’s not much, just a small stream, but Dieter’s eyes shoot open and he watches the jet of urine splash against his lower belly, making his jaw drop because of the hot liquid. The reality of his dirty desire coming true, your piss spreading over his skin and covering him. 

He chokes out a strangled sound, almost pained, his body tensing immediately and your walls are suddenly painted with hot ropes of cum. The taboo act so erotic that he cums as the urine drips down his sides and onto the sheets underneath him. Gasping your name as he bucks his hips up and the wetness of your fluids continue to spread over him, the subtle smell mixing with the scent of sex and you watch as he rides out his orgasm. 

“Holy shit, oh fuck, I-” Dieter pants breathlessly, staring up at you in wonder, unable to believe that you had just done that. “I can’t- that was- fuck.” He groans and writhes under you, making you giggle. Dieter will become obsessed with this now, you just know it. “Have I ever told you I fucking love you?” He pants. “I do, I love you. I fucking love you.” he sighs. “Holy shit, I can’t believe we just did that. We can do it again, right? Yeah, I’m going to get you one of those water bottle things. Stanley, right? I’ll get you two.” He rambles, already making plans for more now that the floodgates are opened, so to say. “Holy shit, you peed on me.” 

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I reported my roommate for smoking weed?

🖍 for identification

Okay so I (19, F) live in the dorms on my university campus. Specifically, I'm in the normal, freshman-only dorms. This means that while weed is legal in my area, very few if any of of people in my building are legally allowed to use it, only the RAs would be old enough

My schools drug policy is basically "Don't, especially on campus or in a way where you can get caught on campus. It we smell it from your room there will be consequences, and if you're somewhere where it's happening but not doing it yourself you will still face consequences". A lot of people don't really care and will smoke it on campus, or return to their dorms still smelling of it anyway. In addition, the smell is a major sensory issue for me (as in, feel sick, break down crying if there too long, very much not okay level). I do what I can for dealing with this myself (walk a bit out of my way to avoid area I know tends to be a spot people will smoke, hold my breath if I can avoid the smell, etc). It's not my business what people do, I get that.

Recently, after my roommate (F, don't know age but about my age) returns to our room she, and consequentially, the room, smell strongly of weed. This is, to me at least, a different situation than the walkway outside the dorm building/dorm lobby/other areas where I have to deal with the smell of weed because, well, it's partially my room. It's where I sleep and work and typically am when I don't have class or show work. And because it's a smaller more confined space, the smell is even stronger, permeates everything, and doesn't just go away.

While I've had things my roommate did cause sensory issues before, I always went with a "just deal" route because 1. She's paying the same as I am to live there and 2. It was mostly things like strong smelling food or having the TV running late at higher volumes, which I didn't know how to bring up with her and aren't Go To The RA type problems.

However, this is a different level, and I've slept in my car last night and tonight and avoided the room all day except to grab things like a change of clothes, my toiletries bag, my purse, etc. which when I went to grab, the room still smelled like weed. Because this is 1. worse than other sensory issues I've run into with her and 2. Something that could potentially get me in trouble if I was in the room and someone came by to check and noticed the smell, I've considered going to the RA/housing staff and telling them about this, but since I've never actually talked to my roommate about any problems, including this, I'm worried it would be an asshole move. Plus, it's possible the campus police would end up involved and thats a whole other level of trouble I would feel bad putting her through. When I first escaped to my car last night I sent a vent text to my brother, which my mom ended up seeing, and she's pushing me to tell someone but I'm worried about it

So, wibta?

What are these acronyms?

[gremlingottoosilly]

[If you need to be mean] chapter 2

Chapter 1

Konig decided to meet his new favorite civilian at the cafe you work at. Unfortunately for both of you, you're both socially awkward. TW: Konig being a huge pervert, Canon-Typical violence, Dub-Con, Innocence kink, Age difference(Konig in his yearly 40, Reader in young 20)

Pairing: Konig x fem!Reader Tags: Fluff, Power Imbalance, Hurt/Comfort, Size Kink, Possessive Konig, Yandere Konig, Creepy scary stalker Konig, written mostly from Konig's perspective

— Did something good happen, colonel? You are practically shining. 

Horangi always had this special ability of telling nonsense with the most serious face and deep voice. He also was the only one in his unit to ever be brave enough to joke with his superior – even though all the other KorTac members usually don’t risk their asses to be put on fire list because of some silly joke. He is the closest König has to a friend – and it’s kinda sad, actually, that a broken gambling addict is the only person who can read his emotions so well, even with his hood and permanently sour expression. 

But something good did happen – you happen, of course. 

He spend a few days of self-reflecting, drinking and punching training manekens in the gym, trying so fucking hard to put your adorable civillian face out of his mind. You were out of sight alright, but the way your features would get distorted into something even more adorable every time he closed his eyes, was concerning. He dealt with those little obsessions before – nothing that a few good rounds of jerking off until he would feel nothing but emptiness and hatred to himself couldn’t handle. He surely can’t fall that deep down, he only saw you for like an hour and it was literally three days ago! 

— I read your reports about the last terrorist encounter. Good job, Horangi. 

— And I heard about that civilian girl you pulled, sir. Thought we are bringing those to the police, not their houses. 

— I had to make sure she wasn't a spy. 

— And she wasn’t? 

König thinks – would be far easier if he would have an official, legal reason to keep you locked up on the base without the right to come out. Would be far easier for him to just think about you as an enemy, so he would have normal reasons for thinking about you constantly, and not feeling guilty. It’s normal to think so much about your enemies – this is what keeps you alive on the field, if you can determine their shortcomings early and make sure that you can fight them. He would love having you as an enemy – it would at least give him some info before starting obsession over little ol’ you. 

— No. 

— That would give us at least some lead to the terrorist cell. Feels like all locals are protecting them from it. 

— I understand your frustration. But at least they are not cutting our pay. 

— We might as well rebel if they’d try to. 

— We are not stepping on terrorist’s route. 

— I was joking, sir. Only thing that’s left here except for card games. 

Horangi hates stationing in this country as much as König is – and, given that he is a sergeant and doesn’t have as much rank expectations, can talk about this openly. This operation is perfect except for the lack of intel, lack of action and lack of basically anything to do – the local forces are handling minor threats, while mercs here are mostly to show off how the government has money to hire them. KorTac would pay for actually having to fight some bad guys around here – but the bigger ones are hiding and lower ones are already getting tracked down by the local military. 

The only interesting thing to do, seemingly, is to obsess over local girls – and König thought he is better than this. 

But he isn’t losing sleep over thinking about how scared and fragile you looked that night. Especially not even going to think about how adorable your little pout was, and the way your hands were trembling. He definitely doesn't want to know every tiny detail about your life, what you like and what you hate, what is your favorite position in bed and the color of underwear you are currently wearing – or even if you are wearing one. And he isn’t some sort of creep that would spend an obnoxiously long amount of time registering on social media – god, he is too old for this shit, it literally feels even more humiliating than his whole school experience – just so he can find your accounts and get instant masturbation material. 

You really shouldn’t post so much half-naked photos – yes, this is a reel from your last summer vacation and yes, this swimsuit looks beautiful on you, but have you ever considered that some creep(not someone like him, he is palming himself very respectfully) would use those photos as a way to get themself off? Terrible, scary, he can’t wait for you to post some new photos – maybe in something that he would buy you, way skimpier and more expensive, so he could protect you from those people. 

He looks at your posts about work – and he hates this stupid blue bird app because it never works for him, always filled with some assholes who are trying to argue with literally everyone, and the way he can’t even see your posts properly because of the weird ads. No, he doesn’t need a “Thing that would make your dick longer” he literally has a problem with making it smaller. No, he doesn’t need some dumb T-shirt even though he kinda reflects with the funny pun about pokemons and would love to wear something containing his major interest even though it would look ridiculous on a 6 '10 killing machine. 

But König reads all of your short posts about the way you hate working in customer service, and his hand is almost slipping to the ad about wedding rings. You hate your job, he hates his – practically soulmates, even though he doesn’t really hate the killing part of his employment, he just doesn’t want to be in charge of people and making them steal the fun of destroying. He would, however, agree to get as many ranks as possible if that would mean providing for you. If that would allow him to be by your side and listen to your sweet voice, he would agree for the next promotion even if higher ups would want him to make some PR wawes and become a fucking fashion model. 

But he is completely sane about you. Totally normal. Absolutely nothing is wrong with him when he can’t even think about visiting you in real life, but he leaves a like on every of your posts in every social media he has – you have terrible online safety habits by the way, he can already see what the inside of your apartment looks like, your place of work from three different angles, and how the front door of your apartment is held together by a very easy to destroy lock. He could snatch it in one deliberate kick, not even speaking about just shooting it. Not like he would need to, he wants you to be with him willingly. Or, at least, don’t fight him too much in case he would actually lose his patience and do something drastic. 

It has already been three days and he feels like he is going crazy. He had those things before, overthinking about tiniest details in someone he never truly knew, but even then he’d understand that he can’t be with them – it could be his school crushes that were, ironically, crushed because of his anxiety. It might be some casual flings with his fellow soldiers that would either get killed in the field or never happen because it would be fraternization. Some random people he saw at the airport and already imagined life with multiple kids and a dog. He always knew he had a problem – but it was never like this before. Never dangerous. 

The problem is – he knows that he can have you. 

Maybe not in a traditional way, he doubts that you would just marry him on the spot, but he can court you at least. He can shower you with gifts or ridiculous tips at your job, he can just snatch you away and leave you as his perfect little bedmate. He can make his men kidnap you, and while it is inhumane and you don’t deserve this, he would calm you down – and then have his happily ever after. 

He knows that he can have you – and it drives him crazy. He could stop himself previously, when he didn’t have anything for himself to be considered desirable – but now, with his rank and all the new opportunities and money it brings, he can’t stop but fantasize. 

You under him, panting and blushing, lips puffy from kisses, skin glazed from sweat and marked with his teeth.

You under him, so wonderfully tight, not letting him go even for an inch – and you are perfectly taking him, no matter how gigantic he is. 

You under him, smiling, cuddling after a long night – every night after a mission, where he could spend his free time deep in your body, listening to your melodic moans and little whines. 

You under…

— Can I…can I take your order, sir? 

He is a disgusting human being because lives of thousand people are on a stake, he would just doom them all if he wouldn’t find those terrorists soon – and he wastes time on sitting in this tiny ass cafe, trying to place himself on the small seat while being all too nervous to just talk to you. Like a person. Of course he had to go to your shift – he already determined which days you were working because it increased the number of angry “I hate my job and want to kill my manager” posts on that dumb social media, and he knows which hours you work at – of course it’s almost night time, the closing shift, because he simply can’t have himself not worry about you. 

He is a creep, weirdo and all that words in a song that he’s been blasting in his tiny headphones all of these days because he can smell the sweetness of your perfume and the way you are munching on the pen you are using to write his order. Oh, yes, order. He is supposed to order something, he can’t just give you money for how adorable you look in that white apron – even though you are absolutely stunning and should get money. 

God, he would murder everyone in this building just for them to never look at your legs again. 

God, he would bury himself between them if only you’d allow him to.

— Sir, is everything okay? 

He served in the military for far longer that you lived, probably. Most of his life, he got used to being referred to as something honorable, or referring to other people like that – and he never thought that just being referred to as “sir” would make his dick twitch in his pants. He crosses his legs, hoping not to get too imposing – he already towers over the tiny table like a giant he is, barely even fitting in it. He thinks he has a healthy amount of self-control – then he looks at you again, and thanks all the gods he knows for the mask he is wearing – at least under the black surgeon piece and dark glasses you won’t really see his blush. Or that little twitching in his eyes that is indicating danger. 

— Sorry, I…can I, um, have a coffee? Bitte…please, I mean. 

He hates how nervous he is – like high school again, asking his crush out just to be ridiculed. But you look perfect like this – controlled environment, you can’t just laugh at him and say that he is a weird nerd from another class, you have a manager who is controlling of such behavior. He would never tell on you, of course, he wants you to be happy, even if this job makes you the most miserable – even though he kinda thinks of you as a weak for this, his job literally involves killing people and he doesn't argue that much! 

But you giggle – sweet, innocent sound, it drives him crazy even more than he previously was. It doesn’t feel like those girls at school – yes, he still can’t let that go, even though his therapist says he has to – and he loses all control at how beautiful you sound. He wants to take you away right now, pay you for your workplace however you get them, and just use you as he wants – no matter how socially unacceptable. He protects this country, he has the right for a little prize, right? No, this would be terrible, he shouldn’t just harass sweet little civilians like you, he should…

— What type of coffee, sir? Do you want some dessert? 

This is a typical question, he was at cafes and coffee shops a thousand times but, for some reason, it feels almost like you are teasing him. You bite the end of your pen with those adorable teeth of yours – he wants to feel it on his fingers, he wants you to leave bite marks all over his body as a sign of marking him as yours. He smiles under his mask, hoping that you would somehow feel it – how happy you make him feel, how hard it’s for him not to lose control. 

— No. Just coffee. 

— Sugar? 

He would like some sugar, of course – but the one he wants is probably not for sale, even though that adorable white apron of yours makes you look like a candy. He would love to unwrap you from those silly clothes and devour what belongs to him for the right of protector, but he knows how scared you might be. He is not a good person, he killed more people that he could count – countless fathers, sons, mothers, he shouldn’t even think about having a right for a family of his own after all of this. He is not a good person and his moral code changes with every kill he gets – but for hell sake, he wants to be nice with you. You deserve it, he knows. More than he is, for sure. 

König doesn’t really like sugary stuff, it was always too childish, made him too energetic, disrupted his very peculiar way of eating things. Sweets makes him only more hungry, makes him crave more, and he wants to be as serious as possible – so he usually drinks and eats stuff that is no tastier than a pile of dry sand. But he responds before he can think, too focused on that shiny lipgloss you have on your lips. He would lick and bite it all – soon, he hopes. 

— Ja. Thank you. 

— Good choice, sir.

Your lips are curling into a small, shy smile and he likes sugar now. He isn’t sure if you are telling everyone that their order is a good choice, maybe you just want to get more tips, but he hopes that maybe, he is special. Maybe there is something nice happening to him after all. A small reward for not being a total monster on the last mission he had, even though he could. He can’t do anything but to stare at you, his only saving grace is the dark lenses of his glasses – he can’t wear his hood in civil situations, unfortunately, people would stare, stare, stare and that would make him want to pull their eyes out. 

But you smile and he smiles also, even if you can’t see it. He is looking at your legs and, fuck, he is a disgusting old creature that preys upon younger women because he never had a positive experience before. He is a total creep and a monster that should be put down already – but he stares at your legs under that waitress dress, and he would pay your manager a few thousand Euros to cut the length of your skirt in half. 

Then he sees all the others looking at you the same way – old people, young people, there aren’t a lot of guests at this time in the evening, most people are afraid of going into public places while the war on terrorism is going on. There aren’t a lot of people while it’s almost closing time, but he doesn't even want to think about all the other men looking at you like this. Devouring you with their eyes, probably leaving sleazy comments as you go through the small cafe, just as overworked as your other coworkers. He wants to take you from here. 

You don’t deserve people looking at you like you aren’t even a person – only he can look at you respectfully, stripping you with his eyes. He can be soft for you, can be perfect – if you would just let him. 

König doesn’t want to be a creep around you, but he was looking at your legs for five minutes already, picturing the way your body would look under all of these clothes, and his cock gets painfully hard. He thanks himself for wearing normal, baggy pants, not something tighter – at least his embarrassment is completely covered by his clothes. 

— Here is your coffee. Anything else? 

You look nervous, of course – but he seems way softer than he was a couple days ago, at night. The absence of his creepy mask is obviously helping, and because he is sitting, you don’t have to tilt your head too high, causing your neck to stretch uncomfortably. He looks awkwards, like a big dog that still tries to fit into his old bed, and it causes you to smile a little bit more. You made sure to place a couple of sugar cubes on the plate, so he could decide for himself, if he wants to use them all – but the mere thought of that giant of a man, a colonel, hardened soldier liking something silly and sweet is making you giggle. 

He looks way softer than he was that night, and you can almost forget about how scared you were – how you were thinking that this would be the end for you, that one, overthinking part of your mind already making up the scenarios of getting martial lawed because of the broken curfew. You can even see his hair – and fight the urge to touch it a little. He is still who-knows-how-old and still a military presence in your peaceful country. 

You still want to ruffle his hair. 

He still wants to take your clothes off and make you his. 

— Nein, thank you. 

He stares at the cup for a good few seconds – if he wants to drink, he needs to actually take it off. He has many scars on his face, and his mouth sometimes feels like it has more dead skin than alive one – he doesn’t want to attract attention. Some people are already staring at his badge and how awkward a giant man like him looking in that cozy, tiny place – but he also wants you to see how much pain he can withstand without getting killed. How he can protect you from anything because there literally isn’t anything he won’t do for you. You would appreciate a man with scars, it’s a sign of bravery, right? 

Then he thinks about all the times he would take off his mask and how people around him would look at him – with pity, with fear, with disgust sometimes even though he is certain that his face isn’t as deformed as some other parts of his body. He even almost managed to grow a beard once! Then he had to scrub it all off because hair was growing in very uneven patches and he looked like something crawled on his chin and died. 

König fought in countless battles, spent his youth training to be the best killer possible, took part in many major conflicts and killed hundreds of people while feeling nothing but recoil. He isn’t afraid of anything – except for talking to people sometimes, maybe, and even now he is trying to work on it with his therapist, instead of just killing anyone who looks at him funny. He isn’t afraid of the dark, of death, of uncertainty in his life. But he is afraid of you looking at him unmasked and thinking that you, in fact, find him disgusting. 

You almost want to take your time to look at what he will do – is he going to take off his mask? Is he going to drink right through the fabric? You have too much work to just stay at his table and stare, even if you want to – but you are trying to give him occasional glances as he just…sits at his table. Not even moving, just staring at the cup and sometimes moving his head to look at you – or just ornaments at the wall behind you. Yes, probably the ornament. 

König sits at the table and, well, he doesn’t even want to drink his coffee because just looking at the way your ass sways under that terribly short skirt is enough to set him on fire. He wants to take you home with him – even though his home is all the way up in Austria. He would take you, you probably wouldn’t even be mad at you – you could be a perfect little family. He already waited too long to start one, never finding anyone who would win his heart for a long run but he was sure that this three-days-obsession would last long. He isn’t sure, however, if he likes it or not. 

He ended up not drinking at all – he knows that he can’t just waste multiple hours, he already got his lieutenants covering the spot with paper work while their commander is away at searching for the love of his life. He wants to be with you longer, probably walk you home again and make sure to protect you from any creeps that would want to attack. He can’t have that, it’s obvious – he is a colonel, unfortunately, he is still on the hunt for those terrorists, he can barely give himself an hour of free time these days. 

He already indulged in his fantasies too much when he folds a 100 Euros banknote and puts it into the bill – not sure about how much money it is here, not wanting to give you any trouble with exchanging currency, he just hopes that would be enough for you to at least not worry about food for a few days. Or buy yourself something nice – what girls like these days? Guns, books, some fancy lip gloss, a hat for their adorable little turtles? He would buy you a pet turtle, he always wanted one as a kid – right before his father said that all lizards are products of sinful corporations and a lazy pet like a turtle, unlike a giant dog breed, is completely useless and unmanly. 

He doesn’t want to be here when you’ll get the bill – he is too afraid that he didn’t gave you enough, that you'd be disappointed. He would love to give you more, of course, but he doesn’t want to just shove you the money like you are some sort of cheap whore – he wants to give you gifts, something meaningful, to steal you from poverty altogether. König is an expert in infiltration and escaping arts, he can exit the location without anyone noticing a thing, even with his size – and then you look at him, directly into his eyes, covered by sunglasses – and your face is twisted in shock as you realize what exactly he left you. 

— Wait, sir! Please, I…god, I will get you the change right now, I’m so sorry, it’s closing shift, I…I’m sorry, I completely forgot…

You are almost begging him to stop and let you give him his money, a honorable deed really – but all he can think of is how nice you would look on your knees, begging him to fuck you already. How perfect you would look all whiny and spoiled, asking him for something expensive, whatever your cute head would want. You would look so complete on his lap, tugging on his shirt and asking your daddy for a new toy. You would…

— It was a tip. Take it. 

He wants to be able to tell you how perfect you look, how he wants to just throw you over his shoulder in a totally non-creepy way and make you his little wifey. How he would take multiple months of leave to just be with you, marry you, breed you. He wants to have a way with words, but they are useless to him – he can’t even say he likes you, it’s embarrassing, he is almost forty, he got his rank as youngest colonel in history of KorTac, he can literally have almost everything he wants – except for basic social skills. 

He feels like a creep, an old man trying to steal that perfect girl from the shiny world, and he hates himself for it – but then you blush and he can almost convince himself that yeah, you like that creep too. 

— I…shit, I mean, sorry…thank you, sir. 

— Don’t wander at night again. 

He feels like a scolding father and you giggle again, too innocent and naive to understand his thoughts. 

— I won’t. Promise. 

He then slowly leans closer, puts a hand on your shoulder again – goosebumps are running on your skin. His head is near yours now, he is whispering in your ear – and you are almost sure that you shouldn’t have come closer to him like this, that it’s unprofessional from your side, that everyone is staring at you. They are – and you try to ignore it, but…

— Wear shorts under your skirt next time. Never know who might look at your legs like that. 

You would slap him here and there. You would scream and run away right now, but for some stupid, dumb, completely terrifying reason, you…almost like how protective he sounds. And the money he gave you is also helping – even if just a little bit. 

König looks at the way you blush even more, and he knows already that he won’t ever let you go. 

Tag list: @iwritesjud3

Please write if you want to be tagged in the next chapter!

[sorrowsdespair]

Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let Us In!

Warning: kidnapping, manipulation, isolation, probably ooc Taskforce 141, can be read as Yandere taskforce, not proofread

Prompt: Taskforce find You, a sheltered bunny, who saves and provides a place for them to stay. Can they convince you that they aren't as bad as your family makes the world out to be?

Taken at birth, you had lived with a twisted form of family. A mother that dresses you in pretty clothing to show off, a father would spoils you with items to distract you, a brother who babies you claiming that should always rely on him. Of course, you are never allowed to leave the house deep within the woods sometimes you can play outside in the garden with your brother if you're on your best behavior. Society is dangerous full of mean people who will take advantage of you especially when you become of age.

One day Mother, Father, and Big Brother left. They never came back you’re not sure how long it had been but they did tell you in case this happened there was money hidden away for you to use when food was low.

This is how you spent your next years, alone, only leaving your house to for food and ignoring people who try to talk with you. That was until on the way back, you come across a man slumped on the porch of your house.

Fear and curiosity consumed you as you drew closer to man. He’s eyes were closed and his chest was rising up and down. He was dressed in odd bulky vest and clothing with things strapped to it, and wearing a cap.

Father had told you to never get close to someone especially an unknown man due to the dangers they present. But from where you stand you can see blood seeping through his odd outfit and you remember a show where a little girl playing doctor helping toys who are hurt, you are rarely allowed to watch TV but it would be a secret for you to keep, since it’s the right thing to do besides Mother taught you how to bandages.

So with all your courage and lack of strength, you drag the man in by his armpits carefully placing him in front of the couch. You had left to place the groceries in the kitchen, quickly putting any freezer and fridge stuff away, and left to grab a medical box before returning to the man patching him up after struggling to remove the vest and shirt.

Price was stressed not only did their missing go awry, couldn’t get a heli to pick them up due to a storm rolling in an hour or so, but they all had gotten separate, additional Gaz gone radio silent a moment ago. Thankfully, He managed to regroup with Ghost and Soap.

When Gaz came around he was not expecting to see you over him and neither you did expect him to wake up. Gaz watches you let out a yelp and jump away from him your eyes widen in fear staring back at him.

It takes a lot of coaxing you into talking with him, even when you barely give him much other than your name, this was their parent's house, and you wanted to help him just like the Little girl playing doctor. Just as Gaz’s radio go off with the voice of Ghost call for him to which Gaz response being bombarded with question that he tries his best to answer.

All it was for Gaz to try and convince you to help guide his mates here from the raging storm, and I mean a lot of convincing because you kept cowarding away from him and shaking your head. Gaz didn't feel comfortable do this but he had mentioned how you to help him just like the doc and a doctor helps everyone.

That seemed to work and you told him how there were switches for spotlights outside to the right of the house. You had told him you were never allowed to touch them so he has to do so you don't get in trouble.

You watch as the man who introduced himself as Gaz leaves through the front door, and from the window you watch the lights shine through the night while Gaz moves to stand under the porch. Minutes go by as three figures make their way out from the trees.

Oh, what have you gotten yourself into?

[tinycozycomfort]

moon, a hole of light

pairing: qz!joel miller x f!reader

day one of @pascalisbaby and i's joeltober: dacryphilia -> read her day one here

summary: It makes you feel like a toy, like some misused stuffed animal with loose seams and fur that’s been rubbed to the weft. Your use brings him comfort, his comfort brings you hurt.

warnings/tags: dacryphilia, unprotected piv, substance abuse (joel), age gap (joel is 46 [~10 yrs post outbreak]), reader is not), yearning, dom/sub dynamics, smidge of underwear play, pet names (honey, sweetheart, etc), joel is mean

word count: 2.4k

rating: explicit! 18+ only, mdni

a/n: i'm trying so hard to shorten things so forgive me as i navigate this learning curve.

main masterlist

A lot of life is weeping. 

In joy. In sorrow. In fury so poignant it makes you wilt. Your body furls in the collapse—u-shaped shoulders that guard your insides, the lock of hard elbows into thigh. 

It stings to feel so little, so vulnerable—to let anyone see how ugly emotion’s face can be—yet you let it happen, knowing that this is the only thing that separates you from the rest of them; they’ve spilled out all they had, hollow in the center after nearly a decade of ‘justified action’. 

So you cry, and you sob, and you don’t care for their uncomfortable shifting and curled lips. Tess gives her best in the way of comfort, not letting a scoff slip as much when she can help it. Tommy will at least leave the room. 

But Joel—Joel will watch. Joel will encourage.

He’s taken the liberty of cycling himself through every shape your hurt takes, the tears pouring over for all of his near-misses and his inability to care for you how he’s meant to. You see the way he grins to find that you cry when you’re happy to see him the same way you do when he insists he should leave. 

Part of you thinks he likes it—pushing you to react and then having something to show for it. You think he especially likes when it causes you pain. You cry longer in those moments, working though fits of frustration while he kneels at your feet and watches your face sprout tears like light rain. 

He pets you through it—even when he’d been the one to kick you down in the first place—to tell you you were good for sticking around, for being brave enough to have faith in him. 

He enjoys having something to come back to, and wounding you is no obstacle in the pursuit of feeling needed. 

It makes you feel like a toy, like some mis-used stuffed animal with loose seams and fur that’s been rubbed to the weft. Your use brings him comfort, his comfort brings you hurt.

You know he’s gearing up for another slip-away with the swift shift to kindness; Friday night he caresses you, soothes the ache of something not yet felt, to ease his exit. All pretty words and the affection he so desperately wants to hide, whispered promises of how much better he can be, how he can give you everything you deserve.

Come Saturday morning, you’re discarded. 

He’s gone again on another outing, one he persuaded Tommy into joining—if the silence is any indication—even though he needs nothing; that in itself makes you even more sure it has everything to do with wanting. The burn, the desire, is something you see so clearly in the glaze he gets on later nights, the crinkle of soft plastic that trickles out through the open bathroom door. He swears it’s nothing—even to Tess, when she’s around—that he’s not on anything. He throws any excuse he can muster; it’s the wounds and the healing and the aging that make him stumble even in the lit apartment.

Everyone knows what’s actually going on, why the trips outside the QZ are becoming more frequent. It doesn’t get lost on you all the times Tommy complains of Joel disappearing to meet more than one mysterious, unarranged contact who asked for privacy—who wanted Joel alone. 

Whatever it is he’s buying keeps him numb, so Tommy lets it slide, and Tess is apathetic towards Joel for reasons you aren’t too willing to know about. You’ve only tagged along so recently, so maybe they pity you, or they feel better about throwing Joel onto someone else—to ruin another thing if only to feel better about having been ruined. 

You cry through the weekend in long streams, worried for him, until the hot tears pool and curl the cotton of your t-shirt—forever wet. You stay laid out on the bumpy sofa cushions for hours before your back feels just as knotted and you have to relocate to the bed, only rising again to shower and half-eat and sulk, until you’re too weak to keep track of the seconds.

When he swings in on Monday night, boots knocking as he raises them up on the rack by the door, you’re at the tail-end of another bout, cheeks damp and chest catching where it’s pinned by your shirt against the bed. 

Joel walks into the room like he’s done nothing wrong. He walks in alone. 

“Where’s Tommy?” you ask, but he ignores you.

Instead, he comes to you with tattered hands, fresh bruises and torn skin, and tugs you up by the creases under your shoulders so you’re seated, kneeling by the bed to level himself with the picture he’s come to love. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he coos, words slow, “What are all those tears for? Me?” 

You huff out a few shaky breaths to steady yourself, “Where’s Tommy?”

He sighs, long and hard and uneven, “He left. Why the fuck does it matter?” 

He peers up so you’re forced to face him and you can see it now, the film of wet that clouds his eyes, sticky lashes and deep creases of exhaustion purpling the skin where they brush. 

“Why did he leave? Because you’re high? It’s too late for him to be out there.”

You already know he didn’t hear anything past the accusation, brought to a boil at the mention of another one of his failures. He gathers up the soft flesh of your cheek in his hand, the blunt curve of his nails digging in to find teeth through the skin. He grips tight to let you know of his anger—that he could easily wring the life out of you like water. 

“You’re getting real brave for someone who sits and waits for me like a dog.” 

Fire prickles in the tips of your fingers, stretches across the top of your chest in humiliation. You can hear the weight of his words even through his gentle slur, like he means it, twisting away as best you can to speak, “Is that really what you think this is?”

He’s laughing before you even get it all out, the corner of his lips perked up on one side, “No one forced you to, and I certainly don’t remember asking.”

You shove at him then, with force, your hands bending back enough to pinch when he doesn’t budge. He leans into you instead, a challenge. 

There’s barely time to choose before he does for you, gathering up your wrists in one hand, the one around your jaw tightening. 

So close now, you get a better look at him—his hair stuck to his forehead, cheeks flushed red but with paler lips. His eyes are round, pupils cartoonish and wide. He’s still so pretty, even when dulled by the sheen of his high. 

He heaves onto you, shy of livid, and you start to feel like you’re suffocating under his stifling heat, billowing out from where he’s damp with sweat under his denim shirt. The pills work fast, and for longer than they should, so you can tell he’d spent the peak of his high elsewhere, but he’s on a jagged edge of almost coherent.

You slide your thighs together at the whole of him, so strong and honest and invested in you—negative or not—something you usually find him being incapable of. He sees it.  

“Oh, but you do it because you like it, don’t you? Couldn’t wait ‘til I came back. Little thing just needs some attention, hm?”

“Joel, I’m serious. Are you high right now? Where’s your brother?”

Joel wedges a thigh up under the crease of your knee, uses the grip he has on your body as leverage to move you further up the bed, climbing up with you pushing himself into the cradle of your body on the way.

“Please. You don’t give a fuck about Tommy,” he snaps, releasing and depositing you so he can make work of your shorts and the buckle holding himself back, “He’s not going to bother us, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

You whine as he releases himself, can’t help how you grow wet between your legs, heart throbbing in your throat. He’s not wrong, as mean as he is how he puts it—-you’d die for him if it meant he’d look at you. If you could have him to yourself.

His cock swings free as he shoves his jeans down only enough to be out of the way, not bothering to remove your thin strip of underwear once your bottoms are tugged off. He’s hard for you, another flattery that sends shivers down your spine, the feeling of arousal flashing along your whole body—fingers folding and ankle rolling. You’re excited for him, and this display of joy doesn’t please him as much. 

“I didn’t say it was a good thing. You’re pathetic,” he sucks his teeth, hooking a finger in the cotton across your seam, peeling it away from where it's slicked down, knuckle dipping in the place you’re pooling, “But it’s cute. You’re still young enough to have hope.”

He strings the gusset up and away, presses his length against your cunt before replacing it, trapping himself.

“It’s okay that you love me, sweetheart. Don’t be embarrassed. Hang onto that. It might work out for you some day.” 

“But not with you,” you whisper, half an offense and half an admission of awareness—he doesn’t love you, hasn’t and can’t and won’t, but you’re willing to take what you can get.

“Cry about it.” 

Joel grinds his cock against the wet slip of your cunt in short, tight motions to better catch against you, soaking himself. He presses three fingers against the base of it like a vacuum, holding himself between the two of you, the scalloped edge of your underwear twisting when they roll over his skin. The hard of him on your clit makes you gasp, and his mouth hangs open in a soundless laugh. 

And you are crying, sooner than you thought, barely registering it until you feel it falling into the cup of your collarbone, a steady stream that barely burns brighter than the flare in your core. 

“You really should be more careful with that little heart of yours. Gonna hurt yourself.” He slides his hand further up his cock to the tip, releasing the pressure and guiding himself to your center. Joel slides himself in to the hilt, leaning down on one forearm to hold himself up. 

With his unoccupied hand, he brushes the flesh of your cheek, following its path with kisses—the warning is a genuine one, followed by no punchline or remark, the first time tonight where he’s actually tried to resonate with the predicament he’s put you both in. Earnest. 

The give and take of him, flowing freely between unrelenting harshness and the soft comfort of his reassurance should be nauseating, but it shines a beam of light behind your eyes when you close them, white-hot and blinding. You’re sobbing enough to wonder how you haven’t stopped; you can feel your own wetness when he rubs down your chest with his mouth, gathered up from his mapping of your face. 

Joel’s knee digs into your side as he hikes you up on his hip, eliminating even the air between your bodies, sweat-soaked and glued together. He’s pushing himself into a place you’ve often found unconsidered, that spongy spot at the back that marks the beginning of your womb. The very center of you, he’s reached, and you start to move in an act of self-preservation, unsure whether you want him to continue forward or exit. You’re mumbling something about Joel, yes-too much-don’t stop-wait-please don’t stop and when he leans back he’s beaming at you, the point of his canines shining in the dim light of the room. 

He looks dangerous, like the man you’ve seen hobbling and flighty and inebriated—only ever close to anger—was just the very surface. This is the man that hunted men—that sought conquest and destroyed lives. He’s done the same to you, you realize, and now your being is nestled within the palm of his hand, pliable and willing and fully at his disposal. 

You keen for him, thin and high in the channel of your throat, and he pinches your face, sealing his mouth over yours to swallow it. He’s breathing hard into you, the movement of his hips growing shaky, rhythm breaking down a half-step so that you're just swaying against the bed under his weight in little jolts. 

“Joel, please. I want to make you come.”

“Keep crying for me just like that and I will. Can you do that?” 

You’re so close, the anticipation feeling like warm sand sliding under your fingertips. Joel wrestles a hand into the side of your hip where it’s tightly pressed to his, finding your clit with the pad of his thumb. Your babbling continues, Yes, I promise, I promise, and Joel nods, relenting. 

He presses hard against the nub, and shoves himself in that much further, and you start to come undone beneath him, the waves of pleasure coursing through to the ends of your limbs.

He’s still moving above you, talking over you—good girl, good girl—removing his hand so as to not overstimulate you before bringing it up to brush his knuckles over the hinge of your jaw, so careful even as he hammers into you, “So sad, honey. Poor thing.” 

You’re still caught up in your own rambling, but you tip your head yes and he picks up his pace again, chasing his own end, “Say it for me. Can’t do it unless you say.” His voice is a little warbled, and you can tell he’s crumbling. 

“Please. Come inside me, Joel.”

Joel grunts, the noise catching in his mouth like a hiccup, overtaken with the pleasure of your permission. The heat of him spreading inside your body has your legs shaking and cunt pulsing in response.

You fight to catch your breath, running a hand over your face to snap back into focus.

He falls over to lay on his side, still connected to you, dragging you over with him. He hides his face in the fold of your neck, knocking his forehead into your throat. 

“Really sweet of you to wait, honey,” he breathes, sliding out of you with a long drag, a thread of wet spooling out in his wake, “Now get the fuck out.”

[fallstaticexit]

When your Gen X, boomer cusp boy mom mother can't read the room to save her life.

AN: If anyone is interested in some more Lyric lore, you can check out my TikTok for part one and part two of her backstory. Trigger Warnings: pregnancy loss, depression.

prev / next

Myrah: Oh, my sweet boys! I missed you so much!

Sonny: So you went and got married, huh? Didn’t think to tell us, mama?

Olive: [whispers] Girl, not your mom getting her groove back.

Lyric: [groans] See, this is what I’m talking about...

Nina: [whispers] This was not on my Myrah visit bingo card.

Ernest: We eloped. Nothing too fancy, since it’s both our second marriage. I can send some photos your way, just got to get them developed.

Mel: Developed?

Myrah: My Ernie is an old soul. Very old school.

Sonny: Uh-huh. How old exactly?

Lyric: Isn’t there a dinner we’re supposed to be eating or something?!

Myrah: Oh, that’s right! Everyone sit, I’ll bring out the food.

Sonny: Yeah, maybe get this man a shirt while you at it..

[awkward silence]

Sonny: How’d you meet my moms, man. What’s all this about?

Mel: This isn’t some life insurance scam, is it?

Myrah: Boys!

Ernest: We met at a Divorce Support Group.

Lyric: [sucks teeth] Why are you still going to those? You were divorced over 30 years ago...

Myrah: There’s no expiration date on support! I can still go. We take a trip to Cancun every year.

Ernest: She was telling her story about being a young mom in a loveless marriage, and I really felt that. I was a young father, too.

Sonny: [grumbles] Tuh. Ya don’t say?

Ernest: I asked her to join me for coffee one day, and well, the rest is history.

Myrah: Ernest completes me. We don’t let things like our age keep us from being happy. Ernest satisfies me in ways you can’t imagine-

[Everyone groans]

Ernest: Meeting your mom really changed my life, kids.

Olive: I get it. It happens to the best of us. I fell in love with a beautiful, elegant, rich older woman, and my life has never been the same. I’ll probably never fall in love again.

Sonny: ?????

Myrah: Thank you, Olivia. Kids, I just want you to be happy for me. Don’t I deserve that?

Lyric: This is weird! You get married without telling anyone, and it’s to some guy who’s like half your age. Why would you think we wouldn’t be upset about this?

Myrah: Well, honey, you’re not a little girl anymore. I can do as I please and not have to tiptoe around what my children think. I’m allowed to live my life however I want.

Ernest: Your mother’s right. And I think if you gave me a chance, I could show you how I can be a great father figure and role model to you and your brothers.

Lyric: Am I in the twilight zone?? What the hell is happening right now??

Ernest: Ah! Little man’s burgers! Must of slipped my mind. I guess age is catching up to me.

Sonny: Mhmmm, which is how old again?

Myrah: I’ll get it. Sit tight, baby.

Lyric: [sneers] You! Did you know about this?

Sonny: What! No!

Mel: I mean, you did say you talk to mom everyday. She never mentioned this?

Olive: Can we get these dishes passed around or...

Sonny: I mean, she mentioned having a friend name Ernest once but I’m thinkin’ he’s some old guy she met!

Ernest: [chuckles] Yeah, I get that alot. I normally go by EJ. Ernest Sr. is my father’s name.

Sonny: Uh-huh... and who yo daddy? Probably went to school with him...

Myrah: Alright, got one burger for my big strong, handsome grandson!

Myrah: What? What’s the matter?

Lyric: Mom, there’s cheese and stuff on it! He doesn’t like that! He’ll only have it plain!

Myrah: Ok! Ok! No problem! I’ll just pluck it off! I-I didn’t know-

Lyric: You would have known if you’d bothered to get to know him at all! You don’t know anything about any of your grandchildren, Mateo especially! All you care about is that he’s a boy.

Lyric: You don’t listen to me when I tell you about things that overwhelm him. You don’t listen to me at all! I’m not going to let you make him feel invisible like you did me.

Myrah: Lyric, wait! Please don’t leave like this! Talk to me, Sunshine!

Olive: Um. Thanks for the to-go plates, Mrs. M. I bet it would have been really good when it was fresh.

[tires screeching]