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fxrheisenn · 4 months ago

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Andrus Laansalu talked about making Disco Elysium at EKA (Estonian Academy of Arts)

"Initially, the church wasn't a focal point. There were certain characters that needed to visit this location, and I asked, "Seriously, what do we have in our church?" The others replied, "Nothing at all. Our church is completely bare—just a wheel, really. It's quite basic."

That's when I decided to unleash my creativity in the design. For example, they chose to install a glass structure at the top of the church to create a reflective surface. It was like placing an optical clock up there. Therefore, one of the most crucial aspects of designing the church was ensuring the lighting was just right to create the desired atmosphere."

"Let me show you an example of Baroque architecture, which is rich in detail. We're also designing the interior of the church based on large cathedrals. However, the foundation you use might not yield the expected results, because the church itself doesn't require such intricate details. Sometimes, it's about simplifying the design."

"I used Articy for the initial scriptwriting of Disco Elysium. The image only represents a tiny fraction of the text and choice variables involved. This system was also the reason I eventually abandoned the project after a year of outlining the script and shifted my focus to becoming a sound designer. My mind struggled to keep up with the dynamic graphic rules, but fortunately, a more talented writer took over afterward."

"In terms of sound design, it's essential to develop different layers to bring out the charm of the church as a cohesive space. Although this represents only a small portion of the overall design, each layer actually requires a significant amount of time to compose the whole....... Whenever there's a shift or a change due to the dialogue itself, you need to adjust the background sounds. Each time you modify the details in the dialogue, I have to refine the background audio, ensuring that these elements build upon each other like an intricate layer of work."

"It's funny how many scenes involve characters getting smacked in the face. My job was to recreate those, so I locked myself in the bathroom with a recorder and hit my forehead until it turned red.

As a sound designer, I really dig those unsettling, drill-like sounds. So, I mixed in creepy lectures, metal scraping, moans, and cries of pain—because I just love that stuff! (laughs)

Players will be moving through all kinds of areas, so it's super important to make the sound transitions feel natural, trying to create a more immersive vibe in certain spaces.

With all the scenes featuring big cranes, you can hear them from far away, and I wanted to capture that eerie ringing in your ears. That's going to be a thing throughout most of the game. I've found ways to really mess with players while they're playing!"

"I've come across a lot of old objects (like phones and radios) that I needed to perfectly replicate the sounds. I started to become a bit of a hoarder, buying up different models of old phones whenever I found one to add to my collection. The sound effects I can simulate from them are really impressive."

"Some of the devices don't actually exist in real life—just a mix of architecture and tech. When I need to create sound effects, I first look for something similar that exists in our world, then I try to simulate what the sound and appearance of that thing might have been like a century ago.

Towards the end of the game, there's a character carrying a fuel canister. We needed the sound of the canister, so we dug one up from our garage—it had been sitting there since it was five! I realized this would make the sound perfect. So, it had been there for 50 years, and after 40 years, it finally found its purpose.

In some places, I needed unique sound waves, and recreating them was a real headache until one day I happened to walk by a swimming pool and stumbled upon an old wartime torpedo. You can rotate the torpedo's probe, and it slowly rises up, like a proud zombie head. The sounds it made were exactly what I needed!"

🙋How did you manage to get funding?

"Well, since we're in Estonia, you just need to know a wealthy person. You don't need five people—just two who can network, hang out together, and convince them to keep investing! (laughs) Back then, we constantly ran out of money and would tell them, 'Oops, looks like we spent it all! Can you invest a bit more?' That's how we made it through!"

🙋How did you all come together to make the game?

"Luck. It usually doesn't happen this way, and that's the key difference. It has to be. If not, you couldn't create a game of this scale - well, I mean in terms of budget. But creatively, Estonia definitely has writers and artists who can pull it off. With such a small population, there are a lot of quirky folks who are good friends. We were really lucky, though - lots of fortunate circumstances came together. It brought the right people together, allowing those talented fools to collaborate with us. They had experience but hadn't tackled projects of this magnitude before. So yeah, luck is pretty important!"

Lecture experience shared by 白兔YIYANG SUN on 小红书, reposted & translated by me with her permission.

#disco elysium #inspiration #I was so touched by the parts #50 yrs later the old fuel can was found #and the torpedo does art not harm #i need to take down notes #sobbing #you guys are a miracle

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rafecameronssl4t · 2 months ago

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What’s in My Bag Interview || Drew Starkey x actress!reader

Summary: Reader partaking in Refinery29’s What’s In My Bag interview!!!!!!

Warnings: none!!!

Word count: 1,127

MASTERLIST

The camera pans in as two smiling women stand before a white table. One speaks first, "Hi, I'm Brianna," she says, flashing a grin. "And I'm Sara," the second chimes in, her energy equally lively. "And we're about to spill it!" Brianna declares. "And guess whose celebrity bag this is!" Sara finishes.

Off-camera, you sit comfortably in front of a monitor, arms crossed and lips curved into an amused smile. as the two dive into your bag with giddy curiosity. The first item they fish out is your phone. "Okay, wait—no case?" Brianna gasps, holding it up for the camera to see. "Bold choice," Sara agrees, examining it closely. Then her eyes narrow.

"Wait, who’s this on the wallpaper?" They angle the screen toward the camera, revealing the photo. "Is this her boyfriend?" Sara guesses, her tone suddenly conspiratorial. "Or maybe just some random guy at Disneyland," Brianna jokes, though the way she squints at the image suggests she doesn’t fully believe it.

Behind the monitor, your shoulders shake with silent laughter, enjoying the speculation. Next, Brianna pulls out your sunglasses. "Ooh, vintage Chanel," she gushes, inspecting the delicate details on the frames before showing the camera, "she's got style." "Agreed," Sara nods.

Then she pulls out something heavier. "Okay, so there's a camera in here, like old school film camera" Sara announces, holding it up. Brianna digs deeper in your bag, before pulling out a roll of film. "So is this a clue? Should I open it?" Sara wonders aloud. "Maybe don’t," Brianna laughs nervously as they exchange giggles.

"Okay, next—Ted Gibson Texture Spray," Sara announces, holding up the bottle like a prize. "We love this!" "So good," Brianna agrees, nodding. "So she's got great hair," Brianna continues as you make eye contact with the camera that is focused on you and playfully flip your hair. "And what’s this?" Brianna pulls out your hand cream.

"How do you even say this? Goe�� Go-ee oil?" Brianna stumbles, sniffing it cautiously. "Interesting smell," Sara comments, scrunching her nose. "It kinda smells like sunscreen," Brianna comments as you let out a soft snort, leaning closer to the camera and whispering "I thought it smelled good!"

Sara's hand then closes around something shiny and gold. "The only way out is through," she reads from the surface of a coin, inspecting it closely. Sara furrows her brow. "Is this… a medal?" "No, wait—it says ‘challenge coin,’" Brianna corrects, turning it over in her hands.

"Is this, like, a secret society thing?" Sara wonders. "Or maybe a movie prop?" Brianna counters. Behind the monitor, you laugh to yourself, your shoulders shaking slightly. "Drinking game!" You say lowly to the camera, amused by their speculation. "Maybe an actress?" Brianna says as Sara hums thoughtfully.

You turn your head to the camera again, winking. Sara then pulls out a small pin with the text “LOVE DC, GO” embossed on it. "Okay, are you from DC?" Brianna asks, holding it up for the camera. Laughing, you shake your head. "Initials!" you say quietly, clearly enjoying yourself.

"Ooh, cute," Sara pulls out your nail paint. "OPI in the colour 'Girl', super cute," Sara says. You flash your nails at the camera. "Did these in the car on the way here!" you confess with a cheeky grin. Brianna then pulls out your car keys. "Keys to a Mercedes," Brianna observes, dangling them in the air. "She’s driving in style," Sara teases.

They then pull out some gum. "So she's definitely someone who talks to people a lot," Sara guesses as Brianna pulls out some cash. "Canadian money?" Brianna says, unfolding the bill. "Is she Canadian maybe?" Sara questions. "Wait—there’s also Barbadian dollars. Are you Bajan?" Brianna asks, genuinely curious as she looks at the camera.

You silently laugh, throwing your head back, unable to hold yourself back. "A fan favourite!" Brianna gasps, holding up your Baccara Rouge 540 perfume. "She smells good!" Sara comments. They then pull out some bar wrappers. "She's on the go! I feel like she is someone who travels a lot. She's either an actress, or a travel influencer." Sara comments.

"She's an important person, obviously, she's in front of the camera. Whether that's her own, or other people's camera." Brianna guesses. "Can we get a hint?" Sara questions. "She's in the Outer banks cast," the producer says as the two girls look at each other with a knowing look. "Is it Y/n Y/l/n?" They say, "Yes! You're right!" The producer confirms, and you step into view, pulling off your headphones with a big grin as they squeal.

"Hi!" you greet, waving as you step onto the set. "You’re even more gorgeous in person!" Sara exclaims, pulling you into a hug. Laughing, you return the embrace before turning to Brianna. "Aw, thank you! It’s so nice to meet you both!" you say, settling between them.

"How did it feel watching us go through your stuff?" Brianna question, "Hilarious," you admit, still laughing. "I was cracking up the whole time," you say as they chuckle. "I thought this was a good clue because we shot OBX in Barbados the past couple seasons," you say picking up the Barbadian money as their mouths drop in synchronised surprise.

"And this," You pick up the coin, "Charlie, who plays Big John in the series, gave everybody this coin for a drinking game. It’s part of a drinking game and basically, if someone challenges you with their coin and you don’t have yours, you buy drinks." You explain.

"And I think it says," You start, opening the coin package, "yeah, Outer Banks season three," You chuckle. "Oh my goodness, we should have opened it but we didn't want to be nosey," Brianna says as you laugh. "Yeah, no you should!" You say. "Now we know next time," Sara adds on as the three of your chuckle.

"This is a pin I got when we wrapped Glass Onion," you explain, holding up the small, gold-embossed pin. "The ‘DC’ stands for Daniel Craig," you add with a smile. Their eyes widen, and Brianna lets out an excited gasp. "Love Daniel Craig!" she exclaims, her tone brimming with enthusiasm.

"Same," you chuckle, enjoying their reactions. "This is actually my second pin, though," you admit, tilting your head slightly. "I lost the first one but he was sweet enough to give me this replacement just last week in London," You explain.

Next, you pick up your phone. "This is my co star and boyfriend Drew Starkey," You reveal with a grin as the girls erupt into cheers "I thought this would be another fun clue," You chuckle. "That we failed," Brianna chuckles. You laugh. "One of my favourite people. Hi, babe!" you add with a wink at the camera.

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roosterforme · 3 months ago

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Sugar and Lace | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Bradley had a hot wife. He went wild for you in your work clothes and his worn out shirts. You didn't need any bells and whistles to look sexy, and you never would. But now that he knew what you looked like in a little lace, he needed to have that version of you, too.

Warnings: Fluff, adult language, drinking

Length: 3000 words

Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time but it can be read on its own! Check out my masterlist

Bradley looked at Jake over his beer, and Jake looked right back at him. The Hard Deck was virtually empty this early on a Saturday in the middle of the blazing summer heatwave, leaving the two of them very much alone together with their drinks.

"So..." Bradley said, tracing a line through the condensation on his half empty bottle. It wasn't that he disliked Jake. Not really. But he didn't know how many times he could be coerced into hanging out with him for the sake of you having a 'girls day'. It wasn't like he could complain about work to the person who annoyed the shit out of him at work yesterday.

"So..." Jake replied, picking up his drink and chugging it before signaling to Penny for two more. When he turned back, he had a smug little smile on his face that let Bradley know he was about to get annoyed again. "I'm assuming by the way your wife looks and how fucking pussy whipped you are that she has good taste in lingerie?"

Bradley sputtered, almost knocking his bottle off the high top. "Jesus fucking Christ, Hangman. What the hell kind of question is that?" He could feel heat rising in his cheeks at the memory of you prancing around the bedroom last weekend in a lacy tie dye bra and matching boy shorts. Everything you wore was sexy.

"That's obviously what they are out shopping for," Jake drawled, handing the empties to Penny as she dropped off fresh beers. Bradley waved two fingers in a half-hearted salute and then glared at Jake as he added, "Jessica specifically asked your wife to go with her. She told me she's picking out some things for the honeymoon, and you and I both know what that means. They are trying on lingerie." His smirk was back. "Together."

Bradley swallowed hard, digging his fist into his thigh. His teeth were clenched as he said, "Stop picturing my wife in lingerie."

All he got was a jovial laugh in response. "Tell me right now to my face that you're not picturing both of them wearing something tight, cropped and lacy, and I'll stop."

Bradley raked his fingers through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut against the mental image of you and Jessica in a cute little fitting room, laughing together. "God damn it, Hangman!"

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You and Jessica were crammed into a fitting room together, trying not to laugh at the enormous stacks of cute things to try on. Your pile was on the left side of the decorative bench, and hers was on the right. You knew that Jessica Reed happened to collect lingerie in every color imaginable, but she was on a quest to find some unique things to take on her honeymoon. And you were on a quest to wow your husband with something more than a bra and boy shorts for once.

Not that he complained. Not that he ever complained. Bradley went absolutely feral for you in your damn work clothes and loafers. He about lost his mind when you wore his ratty, old tie dye tee shirt to bed. He often sounded like he was going to need CPR when you put on his bathrobe and nothing else. It was hard to contain your smile when you just knew that something in this fitting room was going to blow his mind to the point that he would be rendered speechless.

"Try something on," Jessica suggested gently, and you took a step closer to your pile. "Then you'll get a better idea of what you like."

There was red, green, black, white and pink fabric. There were nightgowns, thongs, bralettes and stockings. When you reached your hand out, you hesitated, confidence wavering. This seemed a lot more challenging than solving a linear algebra matrix.

Jessica whispered, "You'll look beautiful in anything, Advanced Calculus. I can promise you that." When you kind of shrugged in response, she said, "Do you want me to wait in line for my own fitting room so you can have more privacy?"

The two of you already agreed to help each other make selections, and the last thing you wanted was to keep opening the door so everyone else could see you wearing this stuff. "No. It's not that. I just... don't really own anything like this. I mean, I have a few things, but some of this is elaborate." You glanced at her over your shoulder and winced. "And this was supposed to be a shopping trip for you! For your honeymoon! Not for me."

She shushed you and then reached into your pile and pulled out a fairly innocuous looking nightie in a soft champagne color. "Start with this. Then you'll see how hot you look, and it'll be a gateway drug to you starting your own collection that will rival mine."

"I've seen your closet," you muttered, taking the hanger from her and holding the garment up in front of your body. It was pretty. The color even complimented your hair. It was a far cry from what you usually wore to bed, but you'd give it a shot.

When you started to undress, Jessica turned around and played with her phone, which you did appreciate. All of your bumps and lumps would be on display soon enough anyway, but at least you'd have a minute to straighten yourself out. The fabric was cool and slick against your skin, and you shivered as it settled high on your thighs. When you looked in the mirror and turned, you were pleasantly surprised with the result.

"It's not bad," you said, and she looked up and gasped, green eyes wide.

"It's perfect!"

"I wouldn't go that far," you muttered, smoothing your hands along your sides.

"Well, I would. And I'm sure Bradley would, too. Do you want me to take a picture on your phone?" she asked, and you nodded while she posed you with one hand on your hip. "Like I said, perfect," she muttered as she took the photo and then set your phone down again. "Try on something else."

"Okay," you whispered, reaching blindly into your pile and pulling out a black lace corset top.

Jessica jumped up and down and clapped her hands. "I love that one. I picked one up to try it on, too."

"I don't know about this," you said, holding it up in front of the nightie. "Not sure how Beer Boy is going to like it."

"You won't know until you try it on."

With those words of wisdom, you changed from the nightie to the corset, and your immediate thought was how cute this would look under your sweaters and tweed when you were at work. And it would feel amazing. It was snug and sexy, and somehow you felt like you could kick even more ass at work if you were wearing this thing.

"What the hell?" you whispered, and Jessica turned to look at you, clapping her hands once again. "I feel like I have super powers."

"Because you do! Look at you! Please let me take another picture of you to send to Bradley."

This time you posed yourself and turned so your tattoos were visible through the lace cutout on the side. Then you stood there and admired yourself before saying, "I'm definitely buying this. Catch me wearing it to work under my cardigans in the fall."

Jessica started digging into her own pile now as you changed from the corset into a bodysuit, but when she met your eyes in the mirror, she looked like she was going to freak out.

"What?" you asked. "The bodysuit looks that bad?"

She shook her head, and pressed her lips together before almost shouting, "When were you going to tell me you have a math tattoo?"

"Oh," you replied, not sure you'd ever heard her voice reach that octave before. "Euler's Identity? I've had it since I was nineteen."

"I love how you embrace your inner nerd," she said as if she was in awe of you, and you started laughing which made her laugh. "Now send those pictures to your husband and let that man worship you."

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Bradley had just buried his face in his hands while Jake laughed when his phone went off. You hadn't even bothered to inform him that your little 'girls day outing' was a quest to make sure Jake enjoyed his honeymoon with Jessica. Honestly, Bradley kind of hoped the other man was correct in his assessment that you'd be shopping for something for yourself, too. Not that you needed it. Holy shit, you still looked like the girl he fell in love with over a decade ago whenever you wore his old Grateful Dead shirt or his robe around the house.

But now he wanted something special, too. Why should Jake get to have all the fun when it came to having his partner all wrapped up in a pretty package that was specifically meant to be removed?

"Sugar," he grunted when he saw that you'd texted him. Jake was rambling about something across the table, but Bradley couldn't hear him. He could no longer hear anything. He couldn't process thoughts or form words. All he could do was stare at the two photos you'd sent to him. "Oh, fuck."

In the first one, you were wearing a shimmery light gold colored thing that looked soft. Like maybe almost as soft as your skin. His heart hammered up into his ears as he examined every inch of it on your curves. Your nipples were pebbled against the fabric, and he could practically feel them between his lips. When he swiped to look at the second one, he abruptly stood from his stool with his phone gripped tight in his hand, eyes bugging out.

"Let me guess... your wife sent you photos?" Jake asked, clearly amused.

Instead of verbally responding, Bradley made sure his phone was tipped away from Jake as he zoomed in for a closer look. Holy hell. Your tits were being pushed up in the sexiest black lace he had ever seen. It was sinful, and now he was imagining you wearing it under one of your tweed blazers while giving a lecture. He swallowed hard, realizing he could see the tiniest bit of your tattoos through the little cutout on the side, and he actually whimpered.

"Yeah... she definitely sent you photos," Jake murmured as his own phone chimed. "Oh, Jess just sent me five."

"How did you get five?" Bradley complained, swiping back and forth, desperately looking for more. "I only got two!"

It was then that he noticed you texted him after you sent the pictures.

What do you think, Beer Boy?

Bradley laughed a bit maniacally. What did he think about the lingerie? Ha! He could barely think at all! He paced back and forth a bit, sweating as he wrote back.

You look fucking hot as hell, Sugar. If you don't bring that black top home, I think you'll break my heart.

Bradley cringed, because now Jake was the one who was whimpering. "They're sharing a fitting room," he whispered, and Bradley's eyes went wide with the realization that Jessica must have taken the photos for you. Then his eyes narrowed as he reached for Jake's phone.

"You better not be able to see Sugar in any of the pictures!"

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You and Jessica were wearing matching fluffy robes and sorting through everything you'd already tried on.

"You have to get that thing," you told her, pointing to the garters and stockings. "It fits you like a glove."

She nodded and added it to her 'yes' pile. "And you have to get the thong and bustier," she replied.

"I'm already buying four things," you reminded her. The bustier was nice, and your breasts looked good in it, but you didn't love the color very much. Besides, there was one last thing you hadn't tried on for fear of looking or feeling ridiculous, but there was a part of your brain that just knew your husband would love it.

"Missed one!" Jessica said, pulling on the bright pink fabric like she could read your mind. Always the best cheerleader, she held it up in front of your body and nodded. "It's bold, but I think you can pull it off."

You took it from her, but looked at yourself skeptically in the mirror. "I don't know... it's going to look bad. Like I'm trying too hard. I don't know why I even picked it up."

But you did know. Bradley was attracted to you in that dumb tie dye shirt like you were some sort of exotic bird whenever you put it on. All of the bright colors swirled into something that just lured him right to you. Part of it was nostalgia, sure, but you felt like there was something more as well.

"Actually, I do know why I picked it up," you told Jessica, holding the chemise closer to yourself. "Bradley really likes it when I wear his old shirt that I kind of held hostage for ten years. It's vibrant and bright, and I think this is the sort of thing he might enjoy?" You pursed your lips and sighed. "But, maybe I'm wrong, because he also just seems to like me how I am. No frills, you know? He's always been that way."

Jessica smiled. "Yes, I understand. And I hope you realize that you just described a man who is desperately in love with you, not just how you look. Sounds like the kind of man you should spoil a little bit." She tugged gently on the chemise and added, "This is a far cry from a tee shirt, but you won't know how you feel about it until you try it on."

"You're right."

Once you were out of the robe, you pulled the stretchy lace over your body, and gaped at the deep neckline as Jessica tied the satin ribbons around the back of your neck. You hadn't noticed before, but there were some yellow and orange threads woven in, making delicate swirls in the fabric. Almost like a different kind of tie dye. It actually looked stunning on you, and as you turned from side to side, you already knew you had to have it.

"I'm obsessed," Jessica said, bouncing excitedly as she clapped her hands together. "Should I take one last round of photos for you to send to Bradley?"

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Bradley was lightheaded. He sweat through his shirt, and he had his forehead cradled in his hand as he opened three photos of you wearing something so bright and pink and sexy, he wanted to lick it off of you. Everything was covered up, but barely. In the one shot, he could almost see your ass. In another, he could definitely see your pert nipples. In the other one, he could make out part of your titty tattoos.

It was a good thing Jake was staring at his own phone in amazement, because Bradley was pretty sure he was drooling and incapable of formulating a sentence. He had already written back to you, begging you to buy the pink thing. Telling you he needed it. Letting you know he wanted to peel is slowly off of your body in bed later. In fact, the last thing he sent was 'Buy everything in that whole fucking store, money is no object'. And he meant every word.

Bradley had been crazy about you for so long, and most of the appeal came from how smart you are and the fact that you weren't fussy. You let him dote on you in your work outfits. You wore his clothing around the house. You didn't need all the bells and whistles to be sexy, and you never would.

But now that he knew exactly what you looked like in black satin and colorful lace, he needed to have that version of you, too. He needed it.

"Since when does your wife have tattoos?"

Those words snapped Bradley out of his lust filled stupor, and his brown eyes bore into Jake's green ones. How did he know about your titty tattoos? When his gaze drifted back to his phone, he turned the screen toward Bradley with a grin. Apparently you had taken a photo of Jessica, in which your reflection was visible in the fitting room mirror. You were wearing a bra, and you were as covered up as you would be for a beach day, but Bradley loathed the idea of Jake having any sort of access to those tattoos.

"Hey!" Jake complained as Bradley snatched the phone and deleted the photo. "What the fuck, Bradshaw? I wanted that picture of Jessica! You could have just cropped it."

"Hey, boys!"

Bradley turned in time to toss Jake's phone aside as Jessica headed through the nearly empty bar with you following behind her. There were two enormous shopping bags in your hands, and you had a smile on your face as you asked, "Ready to go home, Beer Boy?"

"Hell yes," he murmured, closing the distance to your lips and kissing you hard. "Did you buy that pink thing? And the black one?"

His hands wound around your waist possessively, and he got even more excited as you tucked the bags behind your back and whispered, "There's only one way to find out."

Bradley started guiding you to the door. "Yeah. We're going home. Right now." He ran his nose along your cheek and gave you one more sweet kiss before shouting over his shoulder, "Thanks for the beers, Bagman. Oh, and Jessica, I need you to crop your photos better next time you take my wife shopping."

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I love Beer Boy for making Sugar feel so good about herself every day. She's a badass, and he knows it. I wrote this as a little wedding treat for @je-suis-prest-rachel Congratulations, Rachel! And thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls

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lcverwrites · 6 months ago

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the lovers ― aegon targaryen

THE LOVERS ― AEGON TARGARYEN ... (part one) (2.3k)

summary ... aegon had never known the tender touch of love, from the cradle as a babe, he was cursed to be unlovable. his mother held no love for him, only the safety he provided her. his father never spared him a glance, to sickness struck to see past his golden daughter. his siblings were indifferent to him, never really having the want to dig past his drunkard front. but then came her... aegon never understood why she loved him, what she saw in him that others could not, what he could not see in himself. but thank the gods above, there was nothing he wouldn't do to keep her devotion, because the unlovable had finally found someone who loved him; and who he loved in turn. pairing ... aegon ii targaryen x tyrell!reader (wife reader) warnings ... self loathing, talks of being unlovable, strained family dynamics, targcest (mentioned, but not seen), hurt/comfort, angst, trying to heal from unhealthy relationships, mentions of drinking, supportive wife mode note ... I want this fictional man a healthy amount, as you can clearly see. I might make some more things for this couple in the future, cause they've been on my mind for a loooong time. I just want to love this man for a second, after the shit storm they put him through this season. Let me know if you want more of aegon x tryell!reader, perhaps some smut between these two lovers 😏🫶🏻

next part >>

⠀⠀⠀Voices spoke muffled words around Aegon, drowning him in their monotonous sounds, unimportant and distant from his thoughts. Aegon knew he should have been listening to his merriment of council members, they were talking about the needs of the realm, the wants of the smallfolk, the unwarranted needs of the already wealthy lords and ladies in his court, the impending doom awaiting them across the sees, with his sister plotting to take the crown from his very head.

The crown she was once promised, The Realms Delight was worlds away now, and the crown snuggly sat upon Aegon's head, the doing of the Mother and Grandsire, the controlling hands that guided Aegon under the guise of their affection and want to see him succeed, to bring the promised peace Viserys once spoke about.

But Aegon knew better now.

His mother held no love for her eldest son. She held him at arms length, with contempt, her lips pursed as if she couldn't ever fathom smiling at her own son. With a faux guiding hand, never reaching for a tender touch, only a harsh slap to awaken him from thoughts of straying from the path laid out for him. Alicent Hightower liked to believe she loved her children to the best of her ability, but Aegon knew better, knew that her love came with conditions, and Aegon's was to keep the safety of her family, even if he was killed in the process.

His Grandsire was a bitter old man, who reached above his station as hand of the king, all but ready to snatch the crown from Aegon himself. He was the driving force for Aegon's ascension, seeing the malleable drunk as a way to reach his ultimate prize, to be King through Aegon. There wasn't a bone in Otto Hightower that cared for Aegon past the power he could bring him.

Aegon could hear his mothers docile voice, sweeter than those of the men whom sat around her. Her words blurred into a flurry of movement, her lips parts around the words he wasn't taking in.

He watched his mother. Seeing his lips in her mirror image, full and pink, a slight downtick in the right corner, a frown always threatening to take her tender disposition by the throat. He could see the shape of her eyes, wide like a doe, but all innocence was washed away by a bland rage that barely simmered beneath their dark pools of amber liquid, subdued and boring. She could see her picking at the skin of her nailbeds, a bad habit she never outgrew in her youth, a habit she passed onto Aegon, if his red and raw nails were a certain sign.

He could see so much of himself in Alicent, in his own mother, a mirror into Aegon's soul. But all she could see in Aegon was his father, and she despised him for it.

His gaze traversed from his mother, to the stoic statue was his brother. Foreboding and concealed all at the same time, Aemond was a fearsome foe.

Aemond spoke little, hums of approval passed his sealed lips, displeased puffs of air fled from his nose. When words did leave his lips, they were precise, vicious and cold in the manner, strait to the point, never one to flounder and flaunt with unnecessary grandeur. He spoke as if he were a worldlier man, knew the bitterments was war and what was required to secure their victory, through fire and blood, through destruction and death. Aegon didn't know if it meant their own destruction or their foes, Aemond's want for power knew now bounds.

It's what desired him to his Grandsire.

He saw a likeness in Aemond that he didn't see in Aegon, and he held hatred and resentment for his oldest grandson.

Aemond paid no mind to Aegon, as if he was not there, the chare beneath him empty, no figurehead to be seen. He spoke to the counsel with the convection of a King, hand perched on the hilt of his sword, as if ready to strike at any given moment, lest one of the lords spoke against him, as if it were treason.

As young boys, Aegon and Aemond were like most boys he supposed. They poked and prodded at one another, until one of them bled, pleading for the other for mercy, running and crying to their mother. Often it was Aegon tormenting Aemond for his lack of dragon, for being the boring little know it all, smacking him against in the training yard in the name of bettering his skills, but Aegon wanted his little brother to feel even just a moment of the bitter resentment he felt feasting in his insides, sloshing around with the sweetened wine he drank himself into a stupor with.

He wanted his brother to feel small, unwanted, unloved, just as he felt. But no matter what Aegon did, his brother would always have their mother behind him, caressing his with the tender touch he craved. The lick his wounds with her tender voice, chaste kisses to the crown to his head, all the while berating Aegon in the same breath.

Aegon knew he shouldn't have treated Aemond so, they were both circumstance of their family, they were the only people who could truly understand each other, but resentment flooded Aegon's bones, strengthening his hatred for everyone whom shared his blood, and couldn't taste the bitter bite of his flesh.

Aemond resented Aegon for what he was given, just because he had the audacity to be born first. He was given the crown of their founding family, he was given the undeserving respect of the smallfolk, he was given the time and energy the the King's counsel. He was given the best tutors and training teachers, but he never respected what has trust upon him, not in the way Aemond would have welcomed him. Now his brothers days were spent on the throne he desired so, drunk in his cups and stupidly stuttering around like the idiot Aemond has always known Aegon to be.

Aegon leaned back in his uncomfortable chair, hand reaching out to play with the ball before him, the marble feeling cool beneath his heated palms. He felt as of he were just melting into the wood beneath him, and no one seemed to notice.

Except...

A hand reached for his arm, a delicate little thing, decorated with gentle rings that glimmered in the afternoon light, shimmering shades of glittering gold, azure blue and brilliant emerald. The smooth skin of a palm caressed his forearm, thumb digging into the malleable skin beneath his wrist, as if she knew he was slowly floating away, grounding him to this moment, to her touch.

Oh but she....

She was a marvellous thing. Aegon hadn't seen anything so precious in his life, so delicate, so wonderfully beautiful. There weren't enough words in the world for Aegon to describe her, nothing could ever truly do her justice, and he had tried, many a times, much to her amusement.

The Lady Tyrell had been a gift Aegon knew he wasn't deserving of, it was as if the gods were cursing him to gaze upon the mirror of the Maiden, but never being good enough, strong enough, smart enough to be worthy of even a glimpse in his direction. Aegon would only think himself lucky enough to dream about her gentle touch, to be the lucky man whom would receive her affection, to have her smile at him in a manner he'd never seen a maiden smile before.

Her smile started small, only an upward pulling in the right corner of her lips, inch by inch, her pretty pink lips would stretch in the most delicious curve, revealing the pearls of her teeth, little creased would dip in the skin of her cheeks as she would freely smile, a crinkle would form in her nose, her eyes would glitter with a golden looking happiness, as if you were the centre of her world in that very moment, the very reason she was smiling, like you were the only thing that could make her happy.

Aegon wished he could bottle the feeling her smile encapsulated, pure and true happiness unlike anything Aegon has felt before.

How could a persons smile be so contagious?

Despite his reservations, the Lady Tyrell held no contempt for him. She gazed upon him as if she were seeing him for what he was and she was willing to accept him, bitter soul and all.

The Lady Tyrell squeezed his arm, only once, and it was enough to have Aegon retreating from the narrow tunnel he was burrowing himself into. His gazed picked up from the marble to look upon the visage of his wife.

His Wife.

They'd been married when they were ten and three respectively, much to young to be married, but as is the way Aegon supposed. He hadn't even been given the chance to speak with her, before it was announced in the King's Counsel that they were to be married.

But they've come a long way from those scared children they had been all those years ago.

But the one thing that hadn't changed, was the devotion and love she had bestowed upon Aegon. Day in and day out, there wasn't a moment in time where she didn't love him.

"Perhaps the counsel should take a breath" Her melodic voice pierced through his muffled thoughts, like it always did, his every being was tuned into every sound and moment she made.

"Pardon, your grace?" Lord Lannister paused a moment, looking at her with a look of confusion.

"You have been discussing for hours now" She mildly replied, keeping an easy smile on her lips, looking like the pliant woman they demanded she be. "If we were to be attacked by our foes, they would have done so already, surely you all see this"

"Just because it hasn't happened, does not mean it will not happen" Otto Hightower's condescending voice bounced around the room, looking down upon the Lady Tyrell, as if she were a speck of dirt on his boot.

Aegon clenched his fist, loathing that she was rained down upon by Otto's hatred because she was connected to Aegon.

She never seemed to waiver beneath his gaze, nodding demurely at the Hand, as if she were bending to his whims.

"I do not disagree my Lord" She announced. "But perhaps we have spoken on the themes of war for much to long"

"Your Grace, forgive me for speaking so candidly--"

"Then do not"

All eyes turned to Aegon, who for the first time since the counsel had gathered, had found himself voicing the words that had been rattling around in the back of his throat.

"The Queen has excused you" Aegon bluntly replied, leaning further back in his seat, pulling his arm along with him, turning it just so, allowing his palm to slide right along her. Their fingers gliding together like magnets pulling them together, locking them in place.

Aegon relished the feeling of her warm palm beneath his own, smooth skin against his own rough calloused skin, like silk against leather. The cool metal of her rings biting into his warm skin, a zinging shock to his system.

"Aegon, the counsel needs to speak about--" Alicent tried to gage her son back into the conversation, but Aegon was already detached from everything that was her.

"Your King has dismissed you" Aegon interrupted his mother.

Aegon looked to his mother, seeing her lips parted in surprise. She wasn't used to Aegon snapping at her so, he had always been so willing to bow to his mother, wishing for her affection in return.

But he now knew what love without restraints and conditions tasted like, he craved the affections of his wife, whom would willingly allow him to be loved without limits.

"Fuck off" Aegon waved off the counsel.

He didn't even watch as each member grumbled up their breath about something or the other. He didn't notice the shared look of concern on his Mother and Grandsires faces, he didn't see the glare Aemond had wagered his way, icy and void of any brotherly affection. He didn't see any of it, and if he had, he wasn't sure he would care.

Not when she was gazing upon him as she always had.

With love.

"You may have been too crass my love" She smiled as the last of the counsel left the room, the foreboding doors slamming closed behind Otto Hightower himself, sealing himself out of reach of the King.

"They are a bunch of power hungry cunts" Aegon shrugged.

"Be that as it may" She conceded with a soft smile. She pushed herself from her seat, keeping her hand within Aegon's, walking around her corner of the table, until she was standing directly beside the chair Aegon was currently lounging in. "They are here because they support your cause"

Aegon huffed a breath through his nose.

He used their connected hand to haul his wife's body into his lap, she fell willingly into his embrace, wrapping her free arm around his shoulders.

"I do not wish to speak about them anymore" Aegon announced, shifting his wife further into his lap, until the side of her body was pressed firmly against his chest, the warmth of her body radiating through the thick fabric of her dress.

"Then we shall not" She decided, resting her forehead against his temple.

In this moment, Aegon hadn't ever imagine he would feel a love like this. He couldn't have ever pictured someone would love him for what he was, not for what he could give them.

He placed a gentle kiss against her cheek, enticing a soft smile to paint her pink lips.

Whatever god had decided to bring the two lovers together, he was praying that nothing would bring them apart.

#aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #king aegon #aegon imagine #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x tyrell!reader #aegon ii targaryen x tyrell!reader #aegon targaryen imagine #hotd imagine #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon #hotd aegon #tyrell!reader #the lovers

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velvetcrimsonkisses · 7 months ago

Text

Playing a game with Sukuna

“Sukuna..” You call out, the old wood floor creaking under your every step. Walking through the house felt like a different realm. Sukuna’s realm.

The air is thick with an oppressive silence. The beast nowhere to be seen in the total darkness. The unsettling creaks of heavy footsteps run through the house. You can sense him, but you can’t see him.

“Sukuna… this isn’t funny anymore,” You call out again, your voice echoes in the old house.

Stomp

Each step sounds like a warning. You were about to be caught.

The corridor seems to grow narrower as your mind begins to spiral. The walls begin to feel like they’re closing in, as a chill runs down your spine. You feel those eyes on you. Tracking your every movement as you hastily make your way back to the room where the “game” started. Where he should’ve been. Where he should be.

You quickly open the door and like you presumed. He wasn’t there.

You hurriedly try to find the restraints he was in. Discarded on the floor you pick them up. Your face contorts to the image of disgust when you realize there’s slobber all over them.

“What an animal, he bit thru them…” You mumble under your breath, throwing the rope back on the floor.

You decide to head back out the room. Once again feeling the presence of unseen eyes watching you, just waiting to strike.

Stomp

Sharp fingernails run up your back, digging into your skin, a mix of pain and thrill take over your body. Red eyes glowing with a sinister light, fixating on you with an unnerving intensity. He finally got you.

Sukuna is like an apex predator. He liked to work for his prey. He loved lurking in the shadows of the house, his eyes filled with a malevolent intensity that always made you freeze. Not in fear but with desire. There’s no sane explanation why you both enjoyed this, not that you'd ever admit it to him. Maybe it's the way his fangs glistened in hunger for you, or how every muscle on his body ripples with power and precision, or his aura dominating every environment.

You know he would never actually hurt you, and if he did it wouldn’t last very long…

“I told you to run…” he questions with a low, menacing growl as he appears behind you. Three large arms capture you, the fourth wrapping around your neck. “Those pretty legs don’t take you far…” He mumbles, lips pressed right to your ear.

“I wasn’t trying to run..” He loosens the grip on your neck as you speak, pressing eager kisses to your neck and jawline. “I was trying to find you.”

“Were you now?” a menacing grin spreads across his face, one of his vast hands trails down your stomach, sliding under the waistband of your shorts. You close your eyes at the ticklish feeling.

“That scent…” he bites into your neck. “Your arousal smells divine,” He grunts, his nails trace your entrance.

He slides one finger in, focusing on the small bundle of nerves that he knows makes you crumble under his touch. Still using two hands to hold your body up, he begins rubbing it in small circles, spreading your slick all through your folds. An amused smile paints his face, as he finally enters a digit into you.

Long and thick fingers pump deep inside you. Fingers that are no match for the human body but, here you were taking them so well. Just for him. He plunges his fingers deeper, curling them to hit that sweet spot inside you. He stares at the beautiful faces you make as you take him. Wishing he could freeze them forever. Sukuna never thought he could derive such pleasure from pleasuring someone else but here was. With his sweet mortal that he swears he doesn’t care about.

“I can feel you tightening around my fingers,” he chuckles darkly, his red eyes glinting with a sadistic pleasure. “Make more of those pathetic noises,” he commands you, digging his nails deeper into your hot skin.

The pleasure is almost unbearable, tears start to form in your eyes, threatening to fall down your red cheeks. Sukuna notices the tears and you can almost see the satisfaction on his face. He finds pleasure in making you cry, and you knew this. Feeling his cocks get hard behind you, poking into your back which results in you arching against his body.

His eyes darken with desire, eager for your orgasm. He feels you clench his fingers tighter. “Close are you now?” he teases, picking up his pace. Moving faster, harder, and deeper inside you. His thumb grazing over your clit with just enough pressure to drive you crazy. “Fall apart for me, I got you.”

And you do. Finally reaching your orgasm, he holds your body up and you let it wash over you. He continues rubbing your clit, allowing you to enjoy the full effect of it until you’re a trembling mess beneath him. You watch him lick his fingers clean of your essence as you try to catch your breath. He finally removes his arms from around you slowly, ready to catch you if you stumble.

“Go hide again…”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna x reader smut

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chaotic-mystery · 15 days ago

Text

Hotline to Heaven | Joel Miller x reader

✧ Summary: An inquisitive man gets more than what he's used to when he pushes the wrong number on a phone sex hotline.

✧ Content Warnings: MDNI ! 18+ only. dom!reader, sub!joel, pre outbreak, empty house means he's up to no good, porn connoisseur, phone sex, dirty talk ( i mean duh) mutual masturbation, swearing, orgasm denial, safeword mentioned but not used, talking him through it this time, a little aftercare, slight mention of one of my favorite movies bc I know Joel would've liked it too.

✧ Authors Note: This is my submission for @wannab-urs DMAMC 2025 that you can find the masterlist here. A goal of mine this year is to step out of my writing bubble when it comes to challenges and write things I normally wouldn't on my own. If you read my work, you know this is a roles reversed situation for me and I'm nervous to share it but also excited! Thank you, Gin, for letting me be a part of this, I love you <3 As always big ups to my twin for beta reading for me, love you, Ali.

red line divider | cover and matching dividers made by (Ali) & I |

✧ WC: 2.4K | masterlist | requests | update blog | ✧

Being a single dad was not an easy job, but Joel made it work somehow. With lots and lots of pancakes and promised sleepovers at friends houses if Sarah kept her grades up.

Another Friday night at home alone while Sarah was in the next town over, probably hopped up on soda and candy, Joel digs out his laptop from the bag on the floor and sets it up on the cherrywood coffee table. The house was quiet for the most part, the low humming of the dryer down the hallway in the laundry room.

Booting up the old computer, Joel tilts his head back on the sofa and makes sure his brown curtains are closed along with the white blinds he just put up a few weeks ago. Joel's finger moves against the worn trackpad, opening up the DVD rom to pop in the movie he rented from blockbuster on his drive home from dropping off Sarah.

Joel reads the cover while it loads to open. His favorite actress being the main character got him all excited and may have been the only reason he rented it to begin with. It definitely wasn’t because she was playing a vampire in a latex bodysuit.

About halfway through the movie and many scenes later of this character being an absolute badass, Joel could feel the growing tension in his jeans. Wanting to take care of the problem to finish the movie he'd grown invested in, he pauses it and opens up a web browser and goes to his tried and true adult website. The amount of pop up ads always annoyed him, he just wanted to find something to watch and keep it moving.

Until tonight.

A banner flashes right above the search bar filled with his previous endeavors, the colors immediately catching his eyes.

“What the hell is this?” He mutters to himself as he watches the words change.

A number pops up with tiny images of girls in the corner of the banner. Feeling adventurous, he digs out his phone from his pocket and dials the number before it changes to a new ad.

He’s met with an automated message, overly seductive and giving him the rundown of what he’s getting himself into. His finger hovers over the pound button to confirm he was consenting to this, that he was willing to continue. The line beeps a few times before a new message starts to play.

”Press one if you want to meet me, the girl next door.”

The voice changes to a new girl, “press two if you want to fix my leaky pipes.”

Another different voice, “press three if you want to punish me for not turning in my college essay.”

”Press four to meet me and my best friend, Layla.”

”Hit five if you wanna romp in the hay with me, yeehaw!”

Joel snickers at the generic attempt at a southern accent.

“Call me into your office by pressing six!”

Joel could hardly contain himself at all the options he was given, and he had three more he’d yet to hear.

“Select seven to meet me, Vixen the d-“

Before the voice finished speaking, his finger pushed a button and he wasn’t sure which one he chose. Frankly, he was excited for any of them.

Your line was ringing and it wasn’t too often it did, no one usually got past Katie and Layla.

Picking up the phone, you smile when you hear the southern drawl in his words.

“Have you been a bad boy today?” You almost whisper into the phone before he responds.

“Y-yes, I have, darlin.” His tone was a little confused, unsure of what he just answered.

You grin and sit up straighter.

“Well, good thing I’m in the mood to punish you.”

Joel’s eyes widen and he doesn’t know what to say. This wasn’t the number he meant to push. He wasn’t really the type of man to want to be told what to do.

From anyone.

“Darlin’ can you tell me which button I pushed by chance?”

He was trying to be as polite as he could and you were going to have some fun with this.

“You pushed seven and here I am; Vixen the Dom.” Smirking at the quiet line, you wonder for a split second if he hung up.

“I-I’m sorry…dom? I don’t know if this is really something I’m into. I mean, that’s great if you’re someone who can but that doesn’t sound like me.”

“I get it. You can’t let go of that control, scared to see a new side to yourself. I understand. If you want to hang up and redial I understand.”

Joel hesitates hanging up and he glides his tongue over his bottom lip.

“What exactly…would I be getting myself into with you, Vixen?”

What a curious man.

“You’d give me control, no backtalk, no resisting, you submit to me. There’s a safeword we can use at any point if it gets to be too much for you. At that point I’d stop and we can calm down, just talk. I never get mad at someone using a safe word.”

“A-and what’s the safe word?” The temptation in his voice shows you he’s interested.

“Hopscotch.”

His chuckle rings through your ear and makes your face warm, giggling at his reaction.

“So, you’ve stayed here this long and I can tell you’re curious. Are you going to let me take control of you, I didn’t get your name” You state, trying to guess before he answers.

“Joel. Names Joel. It’s a pleasure to spend the night with you tonight, Vixen.”

The respect he was giving already showed you how natural it came to him, he was this way in his day to day life.

“You’re going to be my good boy tonight, Joel?”

“Y-yes” he hesitantly responds.

“Yes, ma’am. Repeat it.” Goosebumps raise on your arms and the excitement shakes your core

“Yes ma’am.”

“I’m going to tell you what to think, what to say, I’m going to do everything I want to you until you’re begging me to let you come.” You bite your lip and smirk, your body excited for this phone call.

“I want you to close your eyes and I want you to grab your bulge and rub it, slowly for me,” You say sternly but seductively, propping your legs up so your knees are bent, freehand resting on your abdomen.

You can hear his belt jingle and some shuffling from the other end of the phone, causing you to smirk. He doesn’t get it, it’s new for him. It was painfully obvious but you decided to take it slow for his first time.

“I didn’t say to undo your belt and ditch your pants, did I? I said rub your bulge, just rub it.”

“Y-yes ma’am.” His breath was shaky from anticipation and nerves, it was cute. He has no idea what he’s getting himself into with you.

“Tell me how good it feels, baby. Tell me what you want,” you tease, your fingers dancing above your panty line.

“I wish you were here right now. Tell me to lay on my back while you get on top and ride my face until I'm begging for air. I want you to use me until you come all over my face and make me clean you up before you ride my big dick. Use me, Ms. Vixen, p-please.” Joel’s whimpers make you feel that boiling heat in your stomach before you feel your panties get wet, for a half second he takes your breath away.

“Ms.Vixen? Hm, you’re learning quickly I see. Reach in your pants and take your cock out for me, get it nice and wet. I want to hear how needy you are for me.”

You hear his belt unbuckle followed by the soft sound of him spitting into his hand, married with a groan of pleasure.

“Now, you want to be my good boy tonight, right?” You ask and dip your hand inside your panties, softly teasing yourself. This was so unlike you, normally you didn’t want to touch yourself during a call. He was different.

”You aren’t going to come until I tell you, alright? Think you can handle that, baby?”

“I can handle that, yes ma’am.”

Hearing the wet sounds from him jerking his cock off makes you grin and a moan almost slips out but you catch yourself and give a small giggle.

”It’s cute the way you fuck your hand and pretend its my pussy, big grown man just aching to be put in his place. I want to watch your face when I slip your cock inside me, baby. I’ll keep a fistful of your hair so you keep your eyes on me, let me watch you go to another planet when you realize how deep you are.”

Joel moans loudly and he can’t catch his breath as he imagines how good it would feel inside you and to be used by you.

“Y-yes please, Vixen. Ride my cock and make yourself feel good, I can be whatever you want me to be.”

You circle your clit faster as your legs tremble, your moans swirling together to sound like a beautiful harmony.

“I can ride you and wrap my hand around your throat while I put my panties in your mouth to keep you quiet, wouldn’t want anyone to hear those pretty whimpers, now would we?”

“Can-can you tell me what your panties look like, darlin’? Please.” Joel stutters out and moans just thinking about it.

Biting your lip, you hold the handset closer to your mouth as you continue fingering your soaked cunt with your other hand.

“They’re lace, black of course. With a little red bow right in front of the waistband. Sick little pervert you are. Makes my pussy so wet thinking about you trying to moan my name but I can’t understand you with them in your mouth. Even when you’re begging for more, begging to come I can’t hear you.”

Joel groans louder and all you can see in your head as your eyes are squeezed shut is how handsome he sounds Just the pretty whimpers he makes has you thinking how good looking he must be, how his dick is so slippery in his fist from all the precum and spit.

“I bet you’d lose your mind if I pinned your hands down and really took all control from you, wouldn’t you baby? You’d squirm and try to touch me but you can’t, not while I’m playing with you like a toy. You’re my toy, do you hear me? Mine. Say you’re mine while you jerk off.” Your breaths get shorter as you moan softly, finally letting him hear how turned on you are.

“I’m just your playtoy, Ms.Vixen. Onl-ly yours. I p-promise. Fuck it feels so good, shit.”

The silk sheets under your skin slide under you as you squirm, giving into him a little more with each beg he cries out. This feels like heaven and you can’t get enough of him. Part of you wanted to stop touching yourself to keep him on the phone longer, partially because you didn’t know if he’d ever call again.

“Let go of your pretty cock. Don’t touch it and listen to me.” You demand calmly and smirk when you hear him groan in annoyance.

“Is that an attitude I hear?” you ask condescendingly.

“No ma’am, no ma’am.” he quickly retorts. Good boy.

“I’ve got two fingers inside me right now but they just don’t compare to your cock I bet. You’d probably keep me up all night and let me turn you every which way but loose, hm? Think you could keep up with me, sweetheart? How about I cuff your hands to the bed and suck your cock until you can’t take it anymore and beg to paint my face with your cum.”

You can hear a slew of profanities and Joel groans almost in pain and he whines, “God dammit that’s so hot. Please let me jerk off, baby. It’s killing me not to touch myself while I think about stuffing you full of my dick. Your perfect body on mine, what a pleasure that would be. Please, may I touch myself?”

Clamping your legs closed so you don’t come yourself, you tell him to continue and soon once more your moans mix together.

“I-I need to come, Ms.Vixen. Please let me be a goodboy and come, p-please-oh fuckkk-”

“You want to come for me, baby boy? I’m going to have to think about whether you deserve it or not, sweetheart.”

“Let me show you how good you make me feel, I need you so bad. C’mon baby-oh shittt- please?”

Your breath hitches in your throat and you have this aching urge to hear him come and whimper in your ear. Hearing men be so whiny when they come was music to your ears.

“Go on then, show me the pretty sounds you make when you come, baby. Jerk that fuckin’ cock off while you think about me. Think about coming on my tits, these pretty fucking titties that would look even better with your cock between them. C’mon honey, come for me, right now. Be my favorite toy.”

That was all he needed to hear before he was groaning loudly into the phone, enough to make you cover your mouth and come with him. Couldn’t let him know how down bad he already had you.

Your ears were ringing slightly but you could still hear the shuffling from his end, probably cleaning himself up and the mess he made.

“You alright over there, big guy?” You ask, trying to calm your breathing.

“It was a lot, let’s just say I made a mess” he chuckles and sighs tiredly.

“How was that for your first time being a sub? I tried to take it slow for you.”

“That was uh, that was the best time I’ve had in a while. You really know what you’re doing, huh? I’d love to call you again, maybe your direct line next time?”

You shake your head and chuckle at him. Silly boy.

“I had a fun time tonight, Joel. Maybe if you call me again I’ll think about giving you my phone number.”

“Fair enough. Thank you, Vixen. It was a pleasure. Good night.”

“Good night, my good boy.”

The line goes silent and Joel puts his cellphone down on the couch cushion beside him, taking a deep breath as he circles back over everything he just did. Closing out of the tab and continuing his movie, he enjoyed it but Joel couldn’t stop thinking about you the rest of the night.

Even when he was in his bed trying to sleep, you consumed his brain and he needed more.

A lot more, but of course, only if you let him.

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burnforyou · 27 days ago

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FRAT PRESIDENT - LUIGI MANGIONE x READER

!SUMMARY! frat sweetheart gets with the frat president: Luigi. he interrupts/catches you masterbating. also im aware frat sweethearts usually don't live in the house but I don't care this is my fanfiction. (I honestly don't know how frats/sororities work). enjoy!

based off of this ask and these photos

!WARNINGS! alcohol, smut!!!!!, female masterbation, he's creepy kinda (as he always is in my fics, its a reoccurring theme), choking, a lot of force, overstim, rough + raw.

you knew once your frat president, Luigi Mangione, took his shirt off at the party, you were going to have a long night.

not in the way you might think, where you have to take care of him because he's too drunk.

no, that's his problem.

more in a way where you have to take care of yourself, privately.

you stumble up the stairs to your bedroom, your last cup threatening to come back up. you fall back onto your bed and close your eyes, tuning out the party and the rest of the world.

being a frat sweetheart is not as easy as it looks, you truly take care and love all of the boys like they're your actual brothers. and once again, it's not what you think it is.

well, there's one boy you love a little bit more than like a brother. Luigi Mangione, the fraternity president.

oh, Luigi!

you tilt your head back and press your thighs together just at the mere thought of him. you close your eyes and imagine him, his body burned into the back of your eyelids by now.

watching him take his shirt off with Jake and Ryan, he made them look so small compared to him. his back muscles rippled as he jokingly stretched, prepping to shotgun a can of beer. you bit your lip, gluttony taking over you.

you knew you were going to have a long night of fucking yourself, wishing it was Luigi, wishing he would hear you through the thin walls of your frat house and barge into your room to force himself on you.

Jake tossed him a can and he caught it with one hand, his long fingers completely wrapping around the can. you had to lean back on the fence to prevent yourself from falling over on the beer pong table. the people playing paid no attention to you gaping at Luigi from afar.

time seemed to slow down, like you were watching an old porn film from the 80s.

he punched a hole in his can with a key, tilted his head back, flicked the tab open, and began sucking the drink down. your whole body flushed and you relished in the sight.

you nearly moaned watching him swallow over and over, the drink running down his throat, as well as his bare upper body. the beer streamed down his chest and you wished you could get on your knees and lick it all off him.

you had to press your thighs together, your panties shamefully wetter than ever. they were practically sopping by the time you got up to your room.

you don't even bother taking your clothes off, you just pull your ruined panties to the side and plunge your fingers inside of yourself, gasping at the intrusion.

with your eyes closed, you're able to pretend luigi's fingers are deep inside of you, stretching you out, preparing you to take his cock. you moan out into your empty bedroom.

then you remember a little present that's sitting in the bottom of your underwear drawer: your vibrator. you hop up, dig through your drawer and smile at the sight of your loyal, small pink vibrator. how could you forget about her?

you hop back into bed and actually settle in this time: abandon your dress on the floor and hide under the safety of your blankets. you press the small "on" button and hold the buzzing vibrator onto your clit. your back arches, your hips rock and a moan slips out of you uncontrollably.

your mind flickers with images of Luigi, one sticking out more than the others: him rocking his hips into your for the first time and his jaw dropping at the sensation of your pussy gripping onto him.

you slip one finger in your hole, then another, and eagerly fuck yourself with a hunger so deep, a longing, a horrible desire for Luigi Mangione.

it feels like you're moaning right to his face, begging him to make love to you.

on the other side of the wall, Luigi has his ear pressed against the thin thing you called a wall. he gasps when your vibrator begins buzzing, the tent in his shorts growing even more.

it's so erotic, filthy, almost creepy, what's happening now. you fingering yourself, imagining him, yearning for him. him on the other side of the wall, listening to your moans and your pussy squelching around your fingers.

"oh, Luigi," you moan, louder than before, "fuck me, please!"

when he hears you moan his name, he loses all self control completely and furiously enters your bedroom. but you don't notice him.

and there you were, pleasuring yourself in front of him like a divine entity. your mouth stayed open, trembling and letting out small whimpers every time you grinded on your fingers.

your fingers, your soft hands, so small compared to his.

just wait until my fingers are inside of you.

he carefully locks the door behind him with a click. the small sound has your eyes flying open.

"luigi!" you shout in surprise, holding your covers over your chest to protect what little dignity you have left. you fumble your still-buzzing vibrator and to your demise, it rolls down off your bed and onto the floor.

he looks between the vibrator and you. your heart beats so intensely you fear he could hear it from across the room. you grip onto your bed sheets for dear life and regret all of your life choices.

unfortunately for you, your small pink magic wand rolls across the floor, right to luigi's feet. he picks it up and presses the "on" button, filling the room with a deep silence for the first time.

he stalks up to your bed agonizingly slow. his eyes ares are full of a dark emotion, which you can't tell if its desire, or anger. or both?

"what do we have here?" he smirks, holding the toy out with his thumb and pointer finger. you try and reach for it, but he's faster than you are. he swerves his arm backwards when you lunge at him, lucky enough to catch a glimpse of your nipple that you accidentally flashed. even more blood rushes to his already aching cock.

"what are you wearing?"

you hesitate, knowing you're completely bare besides your thin panties you've pulled to the side.

"come on, show me." he nods to you, reaching down to palm his cock with his empty hand.

you look up into his eyes, the look on his face sending a shiver over your whole body.

you hesitantly pull the covers off your body, revealing your chest first.

"fuck," he groans, licking his lips and continuing to touch himself, "keep going baby."

you push the sheet off the rest of your body, revealing your bare skin to him for the first time. your skin burns under his heated gaze.

"god, you're so beautiful," he mutters. he shakes his head in disbelief. his eyes run all over your body and you press your thighs together.

he crawls onto your bed, his weight on the mattress making you slide towards him slightly. his broad shoulders cast a shadow over you.

he grabs the side of your neck and forces your lips on his roughly. you had no choice but to kiss him back, moaning into his animalistic kiss. you grasp onto his collared shirt and pull him down on you, his weight crashing onto your body.

he comes up from the kiss, you two heavy breathing in unison. your eyes flutter open and your met with his built arms caged around your head. before you can look into his eyes he's ducking into your neck and kissing down the side, where his hand once was. his scruff slightly scratched your soft skin.

"you smell so good," he whispered into your neck, making you whimper softly.

he drags his hand down your silhouette, lightly grazing the side of your tit before resting on your hip, right on your waistband. he hooked his finger around the thin fabric and attempted to pull them down with your help.

he drags his tongue up your neck, nibbling on your earlobe.

"I heard you, touching yourself for me." he murmurs into your ear, "you wanted me to fuck you, hm?"

"please," you whimper softly, grasping onto his wide back.

"you wanted me to make you feel good, I'm here now," he slides his hand down to your bare, already sensitive pussy, "you're already so wet f'me."

your whole body shudders against him. he kisses you soothingly, your whimpers lost in his lips. he slides his fingers through your folds, getting them soaked in your cream. his digits teased your hole and you grasp onto his curls, pushing him down on you harder.

"please, lu," you cry into his kiss. he finally slips 2 fingers into you, his thumb stretching to press onto your clit. your back arches against him and your nipples rub against his shirt.

he breaks the kiss first and presses his forehead against yours, his eyes full of greed.

"you're so pretty," he groaned as your pussy gripped his fingers, creating a satisfying wet noise as he intruded in you. you grinded against his digits, allowing him to feel you completely.

he curled his fingers and pressed on your clit just right and whispered "cum for me."

his name fell from your lips in a moan as your orgasm washed over you. he reveled in the sight of your orgasm, your head tilted back on your pillows and thighs shaking around him. he continues fucking his fingers into your pulsing pussy, his forearm straining.

"mmm, lui," you struggle to get out, head whipping from side to side as he overstimulates you. you try and push him off you but he's much stronger than you are.

he ends up pressing his hand to your throat, cutting off your airflow, just like you wanted him to. he presses his long fingers into your sensitive skin, making sure to leave markings. you grasp onto his wrist and desperately buck against him.

"you think you're ready now?" he hissed. you try and speak but nothing comes out. you nod desperately.

he removes his hands from you and you whine at the loss of warmth, but enjoy the sight of him stripping in front of you. he sits back and takes his shirt off, revealing his chest to you again. you bite your lip at the sight, admiring the body you know he worked to have. each one of his abs were shaped so perfectly they almost looked fake. his v-line, so defined its almost edging you. his happy trail runs from his belly button to below his waistline and you wish you could feel it on your forehead as he uses your face.

"you like what you see?" he laughs at you below him.

"and what if I do?" you shrug, reluctantly tearing your eyes off his abs.

he does the same thing to you, tearing his shorts and boxers off in one go so he can finally stroke himself. he runs his thumb over his tip, already wet with pre-cum, and his eyes run down your body. he cant believe this is real, he cant believe you're really bare in front of him, begging for him to have you.

he begins stroking himself, using his pre-cum as a lubricant, his hungry eyes locking onto your breasts, rising and falling with every breath you took.

his heavy eyes fell to your hips, the ones he'd been dreaming of holding. occasionally he'd use your hips to guide you, hold you for a photo, or just slipping past you in the house, and those small touches would have him gooning later.

you have no choice but to watch as he agonizingly strokes himself in front of you. tired of waiting for him, you push yourself up and grasp the back of his head, pulling him down to kiss you. your hand came between you two and wrapped around his thick cock. your mouth watered with a need to taste him.

"shit," he groaned, breaking the kiss, "I don't have a condom."

"I don't either, it's fine, I'm clean." you assure him, kissing him again.

"I haven't been with anyone since you moved in," he murmurs through the kiss. you pump kiss cock faster, feeling his veins pulsing.

"lay back, I need you," he groans deeply. you reluctantly let go of his cock and settle back onto the pillows. he follows you, pressing his weight onto you again, your bare chests touching.

he grinds his cock through your slick folds, shuddering at the feeling. he presses his forehead onto yours and grabs the back of your head with one of his hands.

he reaches down and aligns his raw tip with your dripping hole, advancing into you finally. his jaw fell open at the feeling of your pussy gripping him.

"lu, mm," you whimpered, your mind going blank. he bottomed out and kissed your lips feverishly. the sensation of him fully in you was so overwhelming you couldn't do anything but lay there and take him. he raised his hips and slammed them back into yours, making you both moan.

"you feel so fucking good," he grunted through gritted teeth, his pace picking up. he looked down at your pussy taking him, watching his cock (which now had a ring of your arousal around the base) go in and out of you smoothly.

"god," he looked up at you and smiled, his perfect white teeth glistening. "you're amazing."

you wrapped your legs around his waist and forced him into you deeper, laying back in pure ecstasy.

the sound of his skin slapping on yours and the bed frame creaking filled the room.

it almost prevented you from hearing him sneakily turn on your vibrator.

while your eyes were closed, intoxicated on his dick, he pressed your vibrating toy onto your sensitive clit.

"oh my god," you nearly screamed, your back arching into him. he pressed you down flat again, still pounding into you while pinning the vibrator onto you.

you tried to force your legs shut but he grabbed your thighs, ferally forcing them back down on the mattress.

"It's too much," you moaned, trying to get away from him. you pushed on his lower stomach, trying to push him away. (you shamefully enjoyed the feeling of his hard abs rippling under your hand).

"you can take it," he kept on spreading you open, ruthlessly tormenting your pussy with his cock and now your toy.

"please, Luigi," you shouted, your voice mixed with pain and pleasure, "I can't do it."

he ignores your protests and blocks your throat with his hand again, successfully shutting you up and making you take it.

"that's it, pretty girl, you can do it." he leaned down to leave a peck on your forehead, but came back up quick to keep looking at you.

he thought you looked so gorgeous like this. it was electrifying, finally getting to have you. and to make you feel so good.

you resort to scratching your fingernails into his back, leaving your marks with every hard thrust.

he feels your walls clamp around him harder, his cock pulsing.

"you gonna cum again?" he asks you, knowing you cant say anything. he fucks into you impossibly harder than before, his cock hitting your cervix with every thrust.

"yeah, do it for me pretty girl, il mio tesoro, cum on my cock," he groans, still pressing the vibrator onto you.

you uncontrollably thrash under him, grasping onto his shoulder with your nails. your second orgasm hit you with much more force than the first, the coil in your stomach coming undone much harder. your vision went dark and you came all over his raw cock. you clamped around him so hard he almost couldn't fit inside of you, your cum overflowing all over the bed and his skin.

somewhere in your high, he turned the vibrator off and stored it away.

when you came down, he finally slipped out of you and fell back on the bed beside you, heavy breathing. sweat dripped down both of your bodies and the sheets was soaked beneath you.

you were too caught up in your own pleasure to notice that he didn't finish.

you finally opened your eyes and were met with him gazing at you, a light smile on his face.

"hey, bella ragazza, how are you?" he whispers.

"I'm better than ever."

"you need some water?" he asks, gently reaching for the water bottle on your nightstand. you nod silently. he holds the bottle up to you and you take a small sip.

"you probably need this more than me, you did all the work." you smile lazily. he shakes his head and smiles.

"I'm sure your throat is sore, drink."

you giggle.

"did you like that, by the way," he asks shyly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"I did," you nod, affirming his worries, "maybe a little too much."

"oh, you're freaky." he laughs.

"hmph, only for you."

he takes a swig out of the bottle and your eyes fall down his body, noticing his dick is still hard.

"hey, lu, did you cum?"

"that'll be for another time baby, I have a frat party to attend to," he says, slipping out of your bed.

"you promise?" you hold onto his arm and whimper, desperate for him.

he leans down and kisses your forehead. "I promise. go to sleep now, we'll talk in the morning."

as your eyes flicker shut, he puts his once-discarded clothes back on. he grabs your panties and vibrator, shoving them into his pocket.

later that night, you felt the bed dip and a body pull your back against them. you tried to fight it, but their strong arms held you against them.

"shhh, its just me, go back to sleep." Luigi whispered against your hair.

MASTERLIST - PREV WORK

part 2 incoming where the rest of the frat brothers plan them a frat wedding and he Monica Lewinsky's all on my gown! or another part where he buys you a remote controlled vibrator and makes you wear it at another frat party??????? omg I am meaningless mush.

anyways I'm so emo bc we're not gonna see Luigi until January or February :( I hope he's okay :((((

!TAGS!

@strawbrriess @bellobambino @f4nfic-lover @btcowboy @chmpgneprblem @soggysouppp @hereandqueer6540 @poohkie90 @bricapallen16 @miarosalie11 @v1rtualsalvat10n @hypnotizedbyhood @webanglikethat @croucify @cumdnmp @ga33y3 @zeervzn @marzipanlvr @seesaw-it @raekensluver @ddlydevotion @hujirose @darleneslane

#rose toy dividers #luigi mangione #luigi mangione fanfiction #luigi mangione x reader #luigi #luigi mangione fanfic #luigi mangione smut #luigi mangione imagine #rpf #real person fiction #uhc shooter #uhc assassin #uhc killer #free luigi

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wendichester · 1 month ago

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˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ say cheese,

summary. making memories in the Impala.

pairing. dean winchester + reader

wordcount. 869.

Dean’s hands rest casually on the wheel of the Impala, one wrist draped over the top as he hums along to some old Zeppelin track. You’re supposed to be navigating, but the map is nowhere in sight. You’ll have to give directions to Dean soon.

“Where’d you put the map?” you ask, leaning over to rifle through his duffle bag on the floor. “How do you manage to find anything in here?” You grumble.

Dean glances at you, smirking. “It’s called organization, sweetheart. Try looking in the side pocket.”

“You’re hilarious,” you deadpan, unzipping the bag. But as you dig around, your fingers brush against something solid and foreign. You pull it out, blinking in surprise. “A Polaroid camera?”

Dean glances at it briefly before turning his attention back to the road. “Oh, yeah. Found that in the bunker last week. Thought I’d bring it along. Ya’ know, for kicks.”

“You, of all people, brought a camera?” you tease, holding it up. “What, planning on documenting your greatest hits?”

Dean smirks. “You kidding? With my face? Every picture’s a masterpiece.” You laugh, shaking your head. “Go on, take a picture,” he says, throwing you a quick glance. “Might as well get my good side while you’ve got the chance.”

“You only have one side, Winchester,” you quip, lifting the camera and aiming it at him.

Dean grins, the kind of grin that’s all cocky charm and a little bit dangerous. “You saying I’m perfect, sweetheart?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you reply in a mumble, but your grin betrays you as you hit the button.

Click.

The camera whirs, spitting out the film. You wave it in the air, watching the image develop. Dean glances over, curious.

“Let me see,” he says, holding out a hand.

“Eyes on the road!” you scold, tucking the photo against your chest. “You’ll see it later.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Bet it’s my best one yet.”

You roll your eyes, but your stomach flips slightly when you glance at the photo again. He’s mid-grin, sunlight catching his profile just right, and for a second, you forget to breathe.

“Your turn,” Dean says, breaking the moment.

“What?” Dean grabs the camera from your lap with one hand, holding it up as he keeps the other on the wheel. “Dean, you can’t take a picture while driving!”

“Relax,” he says, glancing over at you. His grin softens, just a little. “C’mon, give me that smile.”

You shake your head, trying to look annoyed, but he’s got that way of getting under your skin. Before you can stop yourself, you’re smiling anyway.

“Atta girl,” he murmurs, and then—

Click.

The flash blinds you for a second, and you groan. “If we crash and die, I swear I’ll haunt your ass.”

Dean just grins, glancing at the developing photo before sliding it into his shirt pocket. “Trust me, sweetheart, dying would be worth it if it means I get to keep this shot.”

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. “You’re such a dork.”

“And you’re gorgeous,” he shoots back smoothly, not missing a beat. His eyes flick over to you for just a second, like he’s daring you to say something. “But you already knew that.”

Your pulse jumps and you bite your lip, trying to not give him the satisfaction, but yeah—your heart’s totally doing flips. You lean forward, reaching for the camera. “Yeah, right.”

Dean’s smirk just gets wider, and for a second, you swear he’s got this magic power over you like he can make you feel like the most alive person in the world with just a look. “Wanna take the camera?” he asks, and his grin turns a little mischievous. “Come on, sweetheart. I’m all yours. Take your best shot.”

For a split second, you freeze, but then you snap out of it, snatching the camera from his hands with a smirk of your own. “Give me that. Let’s see how photogenic you are when you’re flustering like an idiot.”

“Fluster?” Dean scoffs, holding the camera just out of your reach. “Sweetheart, I don’t fluster. I smolder.”

You roll your eyes, leaning closer as you try to grab it, and Dean doesn’t move away. His gaze flicks to yours, lingering for a beat longer than necessary. The air between you shifts, the playful tension crackling like static.

“You want the camera?” he says, his voice dropping to that gravelly tone that always makes your heart skip. “Take your shot, sweetheart. I’m all yours.”

You freeze for just a second, recomposing yourself. And then, with a laugh, you snatch the camera from his hand.

“Keep talking, Winchester,” you say, aiming it at him again. “This time, I’ll catch you looking stupid.”

Dean chuckles, and the sound is like a challenge in itself. “Oh, you’ll have to try harder than that. I don’t do dumb—I do hot.”

You narrow your eyes, feeling a rush of heat. “Sure, Dean. Sure you do.”

You catch him looking at you from the corner of your eye, and your heart skips. The way his lips curl, the way his eyes flicker… he’s definitely got you exactly where he wants you.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #.docx

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buttercandy16 · 1 month ago

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Asylum

Chapter One: The Arrival

PAIRING(s): Psychiatrist!Agatha Harkness x Patient!Reader x Inmate!Rio Vidal

SUMMARY: Wrongfully imprisoned, Reader becomes the obsession of Agatha, a cunning psychiatrist, and Rio, a fiery inmate. Together, they’ll ensure she’s theirs—forever.

WARNING(s): Obsession, Manipulation, Violence, Confinement, Madness, Dubcon, and Betrayal.

A/N: This is a multi chapter fanfiction. Enjoy!

The rain was unrelenting as the van crawled through the craggy terrain. Fat droplets splattered against the steel roof in an angry drumbeat, their rhythm drowning out the hum of the engine. You sat stiffly in the back, the cold bite of leather cuffs rubbing raw circles around your wrists. Every bump in the road seemed to vibrate through your spine, each jolt bringing the reality of your situation closer, sharper.

Ahead, through the rain-streaked window, the asylum loomed like something torn from the pages of a nightmare. The sprawling structure was old, almost medieval, its high towers reaching toward the slate-gray sky as if to mock the heavens. Shadows flickered in the glass-paned windows, though whether they belonged to people or the storm clouds overhead, you couldn’t tell.

You shivered, pulling your thin cardigan tighter around you despite knowing it wouldn’t help. No amount of warmth would banish the chill coiled deep in your chest.

“This is all a mistake,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from repeating the plea over and over during the hours-long journey.

The guard next to you didn’t look up from his phone, swiping casually through videos as if your entire life hadn’t just been stolen away from you.

“I didn’t do it,” you tried again, louder this time. “I didn’t kill him!”

This time, the driver, an older man with a salt-and-pepper beard, snorted. “They all say that.”

You flinched, sinking back into your seat as hopelessness tangled around you. The image of your stepmother’s smug smile was burned into the backs of your eyelids—how she’d wept and lied on the stand, her performance faultless. How every shred of evidence had been twisted against you until even you started to doubt your own innocence.

“No,” you whispered again, shaking your head sharply. “I didn’t do it.”

No one answered.

When the van came to a jerking halt, you almost toppled forward into the guard. He grabbed your arm roughly as if you’d intentionally made a move against him.

“We’re here,” he barked, pulling you from your seat.

As your feet hit the wet concrete, the asylum’s heavy iron gates groaned open in the distance, and the roar of the storm seemed to amplify. A surge of wind lashed at your face, and you staggered, the cuffs restricting your balance. Before you could react, the guards pushed you forward, herding you like cattle toward the yawning mouth of the asylum.

Every detail of the building screamed hopelessness. Water cascaded down the blackened stone, its edges weathered and sharp like the fangs of a hungry beast. Vines crawled up the sides, their lifeless branches clawing at the window frames.

You wanted to dig your heels into the ground, to scream and fight until they believed you, but your body felt leaden. What was the point? No one believed you before—why would they believe you now?

Inside, the walls were as lifeless as the exterior. Pale gray concrete floors stretched endlessly under flickering fluorescent lights, the sound of dripping water echoing somewhere deep within the bowels of the facility. The hallway leading to the intake desk was narrow, oppressive. Every step made your skin crawl with the sense that you were being watched.

“Keep moving,” the guard ordered, his large hand pressing into your back, forcing you forward.

At the far end of the corridor, a woman stood waiting. The nurse at her side seemed diminutive in comparison to her imposing presence, but it was her eyes that truly made you freeze.

Her gaze was sharp, intelligent, and utterly cold.

Dr. Agatha Harkness.

She exuded confidence, her heels clicking against the concrete as she approached. Everything about her, from the sleek black of her suit to the crimson polish on her nails, was immaculate. She wore her authority like a shroud, commanding respect before she even spoke.

“This is her,” the nurse said, stepping aside as Agatha stopped in front of you. “Patient 407.”

Your mouth opened to protest, but no words came out. Agatha’s gaze felt like a scalpel, dissecting you, unraveling you from the inside out without ever touching you.

“You must be [Your Name],” she said, her voice honey-smooth yet laced with steel.

You nodded shakily, your voice lost.

Her lips curved into a faint smile—not warm or reassuring, but calculated. She moved closer, her presence suffocating as her eyes traced over your face, lingering on the trembling of your hands.

“Good,” she said softly, more to herself than to you. “You’ll do nicely.”

Her words chilled you to the bone.

As Agatha motioned for your restraints to be removed, she placed a hand lightly on your arm, her grip deceptively gentle. “Relax,” she said, though her command carried a weight that made your knees feel weak. “You’re safe here.”

The guards grumbled as they unlocked your cuffs, one muttering about the doctor’s “special cases,” but Agatha ignored them. Her attention was entirely on you, her thumb brushing idly against your forearm.

“We’ll talk soon,” she said, her tone quiet but firm.

You stared after her as she strode down the hallway, your unease deepening with every step she took.

“Let’s go,” the guard barked, yanking you forward once again.

In that moment, you couldn’t decide which fate was worse: staying in the asylum or being at the mercy of Dr. Agatha Harkness.

_-_-_

I'll update one chapter a day or maybe two, lol.

Please don't forget to vote, reblog, and comment. Send in requests 😘💜💚

#agatha harkness x reader #rio vidal x reader #agatha x rio #dark fanfiction #agatha all along #agathario #rio vidal #agatha harkness #agatha harkness fanfic #kathryn hahn #marvel #aubrey plaza #wlw

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thewinter-eden · 23 days ago

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That Your Man?

images are mine (except middle LK pic that I got from pinterest). please do not use without permission. Apparently all the ATE pcs are my inspo this time.

part 2 of my skz crack!horror series.

pairing: Lee Minho x fem!reader rating: mature, dark themes summary: mugger!Minho holds you and your bf up in an empty parking lot one night, ready to give you the old ‘your money or your life’ routine, but when your bf pushes you into the line of fire so he can run away, Minho has second thoughts.

warnings: Fear, Minho has a gun, attempted mugging (obv), asshole bf, rude Minho, scared but defeated reader, Minho's kinda soft but he ain't gonna admit it, language, satire, unrealistic robbery, unrealistic Minho, food-related insecurity, nerve/muscle/twitch-related insecurity, hurt/comfort, Minho’s a softie but also a criminal coffee.

Comment and reblogs appreciated!

word count: 4k

series info PART 2 INFO

“Shit, babe, don’t cry.” Your boyfriend pulls you off to the side, a playful laugh on his lips as he uses your scarf to wipe your face. It’s a brand new scarf—he just gave it to you for your birthday, and some of the fibers stick to your face. “It’s just a movie.” He crouches low to your face, diminishing his own height more than necessary in a way that makes you feel so small.

Embarrassment floods your cheeks with heat, and you do your best to pull yourself together. This is not at all how you thought this would go. Crying in front of him is one of the less enjoyable ways to spend an evening, particularly when he’s in a diminutive mood, as he is right now. You’re both standing outside the theater, huddled together in the glow of the neon sign, while people pass you by with the scent of popcorn and chocolate on their clothes.

“Sorry,” You laugh at yourself. It’s easier to deal with him laughing at you when you’re already laughing at yourself. The movie was a biopic on a musician you’ve always loved, and the final scenes had been comprised of the last footage taken of them before their death. You didn’t mean to cry through the credits, but here you are, sniffling into your new scarf.

“Aww, that’s okay, babe.” Your boyfriend coos, and gives your arm a squeeze. He’d thought the movie was ‘sensationalist crap.’ “You wanna grab food? We can get whatever takeout you want.”

That’s how you found yourself crossing the dark parking lot towards McDonalds, Jake’s debit card in hand for his half of the bill. You hadn’t really wanted crappy fast food for your birthday dinner, but while you had been considering your options, Jake had caught sight of the famous golden arches gleaming across the lot.

He couldn’t go with you to collect the food, of course. He had a work call to make and would rather sit in the heat of his car than walk through the cold as he did.

This behavior isn’t new.

You’re used to it.

You’re independent, you can handle being left to your own devices.

And his work calls are boring as hell to listen to, anyway, so why not make the most of the situation and take a walk?

It’s even starting to snow.

It’s a beautiful night for a walk.

As you turn your face to the sky to catch fresh snowflakes on the tip of your nose, you hear running footsteps behind you. “Babe!” Jake’s voice pants.

You turn to find him fighting the slick of the icy parking lot to catch up with you. He’s laughing, rolling his eyes at himself, waving his wallet at you. “I totally forgot.”

You open your arms to catch him as he comes skittering into reach, shiny black shoes nearly slipping out from under him. His long limbs flail briefly before settling against you, his weight thrown against your hip to keep himself upright.

He’s got his earpiece in, his phone clutched in one hand, the word ‘conference’ rolling across the info line. His side of the call is muted so he can speak to you.

You thread your fingers through his jacket, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips, but he’s too busy digging through his wallet to receive it. Your lips glance off his chin and are left cold and unsatisfied.

This is also normal. You’ve stopped letting it sting.

“Here.” He plucks his debit card from your hand and replaces it with another. “Use my work card for my half. I can technically write this off as an expense since I’m working.” He gestures to his phone significantly and then pinches your cheek fondly. “Thanks babe. Love you.”

Derision swirls in your gut, but you fight it down. “Love you too.”

But he’s already checked out of the conversation. His eyes float somewhere above your head, listening to whomever is speaking on his call. A twinge of annoyance twists his lips.

Deciding to leave him to his work, you turn on your heel and continue your jilted jaunt to McDonalds, only to run smack into someone in the otherwise empty parking lot.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” You pull yourself away from the man you’ve just plowed into, looking for his face past the blackness of his hood and face mask to gauge how much you might have just pissed him off.

Because that’s just what you need—getting chewed out by a stranger in the cold.

“Babe?” Jake’s voice wonders behind you. “You okay?”

You don’t answer.

You can’t.

Because you’ve just seen it.

Poking through the folds of the stranger’s dark jacket, the muzzle gleaming in the light of the street lamps, and pointing straight at you, is the barrel of a handgun.

You’re frozen.

The man steps closer and you see his eyes then, narrow and focused. They meet your gaze for an instant, flickering with some unreadable thought, and then settle just over your shoulder. He’s sizing up your boyfriend, still silent as the night.

“Babe, answer me, are you—holy shit.” Jake is standing next to you then, his searching gaze landing on the gun, and his hand grips your arm.

You’re mentally going through your options, working your way through potential scenarios.

Most likely, it’s your average mugging.

Probably nothing like the time you and your nephew gathered up all of his tiny plastic play kitchen mugs and pelted them at your brother, all while shouting “You’re being mugged!” Great fun for a six-year-old, probably not so much for this man.

He’ll take your phones and your wallets, maybe even your car keys, but he probably won’t shoot anybody. He just wants quick cash, maybe for drugs or rent, and he’s probably not interested in being a wanted murderer.

He looks too old to be a teenager, and he’s rock solid, calm and collected, which comforts you. He’s not a stupid kid, and he’s not totally strung out. You might just be lucky enough to rely on some rational decision making.

While you’re thinking your way through your chances of surviving, Jake is erupting into panic next to you.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. This isn’t happening. Oh my god.” His hold on your arm is like a vice, clenching around your muscle with more than enough strength to bruise. Half of you wants to pry his fingers off before they splinter the bone, the other half wants to hide behind him and pretend this isn’t happening.

“Calm down.” The stranger scolds your boyfriend coolly, but he’s cut off.

“Oh my god, please don’t hurt me. Please don’t hurt me. I have an electric car, just take it.” And then Jake’s scrambling through his pockets, while the stranger’s eyes further narrow into slits.

His gaze darts to you, where you’re still frozen.

“Take it easy, Romeo,” The stranger takes a step closer, an action that completely spooks Jake.

Your boyfriend lets out a wail of terror and promptly dives behind you, his hands hurling you forward. You scream, your body colliding with solid warmth. In the next second he’s gone, bolting back across the parking lot towards his car.

You hardly notice the flash of headlights or the screech of tires as he squeals out onto the street, because your boyfriend’s actions have just launched you directly into the arms of the man who’s trying to mug you.

The stranger had caught you by reflex, his gun now jammed forcefully into your ribs, and you definitely hadn’t accounted for this scenario.

There’s a rush of grunts and tangled limbs and skidding shoes as you shove yourself away from him, your eyes wide, lungs gasping, but the stranger is staring in the direction that Jake just drove off in.

“Shit,” He mutters in disbelief, and finally turns back to you.

You’re still petrified, terrified, abandoned.

Where are you gonna go now? Hoof it to McDonalds and hope the bigger, stronger man doesn’t catch you before you get there?

Well.

Then again.

Might be your best option.

But then the stranger reaches behind himself and tucks the gun into his waistband, bringing his now empty hands back into view. In a second, he’s knocked his hood back and tugged his mask down, revealing shocks of fluffy brown hair and the highest cheekbones you’ve ever seen. He hooks a thumb back towards the street. “That your man?”

It’s enough to open the floodgates.

You burst into tears, so relieved that you’re no longer at gunpoint, terrified because you’re alone with the man who tried to mug you (did he even get the chance?), pissed and hurt because your boyfriend shoved you into the arms of a gunman, confused because the gunman is now speaking casually to you.

It’s a lot.

At your sudden explosion of emotion, the man leans back on his heels, sighing at you. This isn’t how he expected the altercation to go, but now that he’s left in the whirlwind aftermath of your nightmare boyfriend saving his own ass, all he can do is stare as you dissolve into a puddle of tears.

Through sobs, which you barely manage to hide in your scarf, you squint up at him past the falling snow. “What do you want? Are you robbing me?” You might as well ask—what is he gonna do, shoot you?

After a few seconds of pensive silence, the man steps forward with a nod. You flinch backwards, but he just lifts his empty hand, palm up. “Yeah, I am. Give me the card he just gave you.”

You blink, tears momentarily paused. “The card?”

He nods towards where your hand is still clenched around the company credit card. “Yeah I heard all that ‘pay for my half with the work card’ bullshit. I saw that lame-o pathetic kiss, too. He’s a real winner. Gimme.”

His fingers crook at you expectantly, and you’re so tense that you jump and immediately pass the card over. He tucks it into his pocket, and then cocks his head oddly at your scarf. “What is that fucking monstrosity and why are you wearing it with the tag still on it?”

He doesn’t know what to do, either. None of his victims have ever sacrificed their girlfriends to him before; admittedly at a loss, he decides to play it by ear. You haven’t called the cops yet, so he still has some time to see where this goes.

More confused than ever, your eyes fall to the bright orange and blue felt scarf, and realize that there is in fact a tag sticking out of one of the folds. Before you can take a closer look at it, the stranger’s hand snaps out and plucks the scarf off your neck. A rush of cold air chills your skin where the fabric once was.

He’s…stealing your scarf?

“Hey, wait—” You argue, and then freeze when his challenging eyes snap back up to you. “That was a birthday present, please don’t take it.”

He holds up the tag, a neon green discount marker from a local thrift store. “Who gave it to you? Because—”

You snatch the scarf back, humiliated. “My boyfriend gave it to me.” You can’t believe you just yanked something out of the hands of the man with the gun.

He gazes at you for a long moment, hands jammed in his pockets. He doesn’t know much about you, except for the fact that you handle duress better than your boyfriend does, but he did overhear the company card conversation which suggested you were expected to pay for your own dinner while your boyfriend wasn’t even willing to pay for his own, and that you were sent to collect dinner by yourself, and, now, that your birthday gift had been a horrendous piece of second hand garbage that—by the looks of your clothes—isn’t your style at all.

“Your boyfriend got you a thrifted scarf for your birthday.” He repeats blandly.

You sniffle, putting a few more feet of distance between you. “He knows I like cozy things.” There’s not much you can say to defend Jake at this point, but you can’t take any more degradation right now.

“Tell me he got you something better last year.” The stranger scoffs.

You scowl at him. “Aren’t you robbing me?”

His teeth flash in the lamplight, and he waggles Jake’s company card at you. “I already did. Shall we go get him fired?”

Voracious, incredibly stressed laughter bursts out of you. “What?”

This guy holds you up in a dark parking lot at nearly midnight, witnesses the most embarrassing display of emotional betrayal you can imagine, and is now offering to get your boyfriend fired as payback for abandoning you?

He tucks the card back in his pocket with a shrug. “Just seems to me like it’s more worth my time to give that asshole what’s coming to him than to steal the money you probably don’t have, considering he makes you pay for shit.”

There’s nothing in the world that could have prepared you for that.

Your mouth falls open. “I have money!”

“Are you offering?” His hand goes back towards the gun in his waistband, his smirk teasing, and your heart leaps into your throat. His joke falls flat when your gaze drops to the ground, chin tucking against your chest, your entire personality seeming to instantly deflate.

His heart sinks at the sight, which is not something he wants to decipher right now.

“Alright, wait.” He drops the edge of his jacket back down over the gun. “I was kidding, please don’t cry again. I’m Minho, what’s your name?”

“Why the hell would I tell you my name?” You snap. Then you shoot him a look. “Why the hell would you tell me your name?”

He shrugs again—an action he seems very fond of—and nods to the scarf still in your hands. “Throw that piece of shit away and come with me. There’s a coffee shop right over there that’s still open. You can warm up while you order another ride.”

You balk, moving backwards once again. At this point, you could fit an entire shopping cart train between you, and Minho is smiling.

“I’m not going with you!” You exclaim, clutching the scarf like a shield.

He points to the other side of the parking lot, where a coffee shop pours warm light out onto the pavement. “We would be walking. Just come with me for a cup of coffee. Alright? You said you like cozy things.”

A few seconds of tense silence pass. He blows snowflakes out of his eyelashes and blinks at you expectantly. You can’t understand what the hell is happening right now.

“Why?”

Minho sighs, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “You just got mugged, alright, you’re in distress. You just got stranded here with a dangerous stranger, and you look like you’re turning blue. I can’t just leave you here.”

“You had no trouble robbing me at gunpoint, why can’t you just leave me alone?”

The teasing smile falls from his face and he frowns at you. “Because I just robbed you at gunpoint and that’s not even why you’re crying. That’s a whole new level of pathetic. I can’t in good conscience leave you here.”

You burst into tears all over again.

He lifts his hands in surrender, approaching you carefully. “Alright, listen. I’d rather run up a shit ton of debt on your ex’s company credit card than keep making you cry. So can we start with a cup of coffee? Please? Once you’re in the Uber I’ll be on my way, buying TVs and chipotle gift cards until he’s out of a job. I swear.” He crosses his heart.

“He’s not my ex.” You sniffle, because he’s not. Who wouldn’t be terrified in the face of an armed robbery? You can’t totally blame Jake for his reaction, as miserable as it makes you feel. Did he even think about coming back for you? What if you had been shot after he left?

Minho shakes his head at you and watches you crumble all over again. “Come on, jagi, why are you this upset over that deadbeat nobody? You’re making me feel funny.” Pity. The nurturing monsoon swirling in his gut is pity—something he’s never felt for somebody he’s mugged before. His eyes lift to take in the movie theater behind you, and then at the scarf still clenched in your fists as you weep.

“Don’t tell me today is your birthday.”

You sob harder, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes. You’re not afraid of this strange criminal anymore, rather heartbroken and disappointed that your already lame evening has taken such a miserable turn.

“Well, shit.” Minho mumbles. “Wait, shit. He was going to make you pay for your own fucking McDonalds on your birthday?”

“Why do you care so much?” You screech, reeling away when his hand touches your arm.

He throws up his hands in equal amounts of frustration, eyes widening as much as yours. “Because you look like an abandoned fucking kitten and I’d be a horrible person to just leave you here.”

“You are a horrible person.” You shout back, and then your mouth clamps shut. Your hand slaps over your lips, staring at him in utter terror as you realize that you’re firing insults at someone who could just shoot you if he decides you’re offensive enough.

But he just laughs at you. “Yeah, fair enough. So, come on—coffee?”

Without a single sane reason to support this decision, you walk across the parking lot with him and step into the comforting heat of the busy coffee shop. It’s weird, it’s definitely weird, but in the past five minutes he’s showed you more interest than Jake has in three months, and you can’t help but want to spend a few more minutes in the company of someone so attentive.

And as the light washes over his decidedly attractive face, you realize that he’s not so bad to look at, either.

After all, he robbed Jake—not you.

Minho stands at the counter, ordering your drinks, and then nudges you and points at a display case full of cake. “Eh? For your birthday?”

Your stomach rumbles with hunger, but your face flushes with heat. “Oh, no, I’m good.”

He frowns. “I’m not going to make you pay for it, not after the way that ass treated you.”

“Because it was so much worse than the way you pulled a gun on me?” You hiss, eyes flashing to the barista who miraculously doesn’t hear you.

Minho rolls his eyes. “If you were my girlfriend, I never would have pulled a gun on you, much less pushed you in front of one. It’s completely different. Get a slice of cake.”

The barista’s eyes go wide.

You wave his suggestion away. “No, really. Thanks anyway.” The cake does look incredible, though.

“I can hear your stomach growling. Would you rather go get something different? Protein?” Minho pushes, glancing around your person as though he expects you to faint right in front of him. It’s almost sweet enough to cancel out your suspicion of him as he waits for you to order a slice of birthday cake.

You step away from the register instead. “I’ll eat at home.”

Minho squints at you. “You don’t eat in public?” It’s sarcasm.

“…No.” It’s not sarcasm.

“Because…”

You’re getting antsy, the barista’s getting antsy, and the three people in line behind you are getting antsy.

Minho doesn’t care.

Why would he? He’ll just rob them all later.

“Because I have a facial spasm when I eat.” You whisper, embarrassment flooding your cheeks.

The man before you looks like he’s not surprised at all by this information. “So? That’s not uncommon.”

“But it embarrassed my boyfriend—”

“Your ex.”

“It embarrassed him so we stopped doing meal dates in public.”

He stares at you. “You’re fucking with me.”

“No, my face twitches really badly and it’s embarrassing. Just the coffee please. Please. I can’t take this anymore.” You can’t stand the fact that you’re spending so long holding up the line, so you shake your head at him and move towards a table in the corner, refusing to delay the process any longer.

Your retreat forces Minho to turn around and complete his order, paying with Jake’s company card, but a few moments later he’s approaching your table with two plates of cake. He puts one in front of you with a hard set frown. “Just eat the damn cake. Your ex is shit. It’s not like your side of the booth faces the room anyway, so you won’t feel uncomfortable.”

He sits across from you, scooting his own plate closer to himself.

“He’s not my ex.” You argue quietly. “And my side of the booth still faces you.” It shouldn’t matter, to show one of your more mortifying qualities to the guy who held you up in the parking lot, but it does. You want to put your beautiful slice of cake into a to-go box and take it home to eat it curled up in your armchair where no one can see you.

Minho doesn’t look up from his cake. “He’ll be your ex boyfriend after tonight. There’s no reason for you to be holding on to the bitch ass who throws you at the barrel of a gun on his worst day and is too ashamed of you to take you to dinner—or let you fucking kiss him—on his best. Now eat your cake before he becomes your late boyfriend.”

Blood drains from your face as you reach for your fork. “Please don’t hurt us.” The words break past your lips in a whisper, but you scoop up a bite of cake. It nearly wobbles right off your fork as your hand trembles, but you manage to keep it onboard. “I really don’t know what you want from me.”

“I want you to chill out and have some birthday cake.” Minho glances up at you right as you take a bite and lift your hand to hide your face politely. He frowns as you chew. “Put your hand down. Did I tell you to cover your face?”

Your eyebrows lower, tears pooling in your eyes. “You’re being kinda mean to me.” It’s too weird, the juxtaposition of the man who mugged you at gunpoint outside and the man who is having cake and coffee with you in celebration of your birthday.

Though, to be fair, he didn’t really get the chance to rob you before Jake freaked out, so does it really count?

He just stares at you blankly. “Would you rather I take you out back and mug you again?” Before you can start crying again, he nudges your foot under the table with his own. “You’re safe, jagi. I’m sorry I scared you out there.”

It takes a second, but you convince yourself to relax. You’re safe.

You eat your cake, you drink your coffee, you smile every time Minho calls you jagi, exactly as he intends; you force yourself stop paying attention to the twitching in your cheeks while you chew, not even knowing that he’s watching you because it’s cute, not because it’s weird. He spends ten minutes trying to convince you to break up with Jake, and by the end of the meal—the first meal you’ve had in public since you started dating Jake a year and a half ago—you’ve decided you agree with him.

No more Jake.

Minho all but cheers. No more Jake.

At the end of the night, he watches you order an Uber, and then he borrows someone else’s phone. Actually borrows it, doesn’t steal it.

“Yes, hello, police? A woman has just been mugged. The guy had a gun, and he drove off in an electric car—” And, despite your insincere protest, he gives a description of your boyfriend as the assailant before hanging up. Minho returns the phone, waits with you for your Uber, and then sends you off with a cheeky wave of Jake’s company card.

He keeps the scarf.

Let me know what you think!

PART 2 INFO

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#skz #stray kids #horror #crack!horror #fanfic #lee know #lee know x reader #lee minho #lee minho x reader #lee minho fluff #minho x reader #minho fluff

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