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darkstaria · 7 months ago

Text

Yandere Batfam - Soulmate Soul Animal Au.

Chapter 5:

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 6.

Sorry for the long weight everyone! I had to binge allll of Stranger Things for a friend's future birthday event and ohhh wow I thought the episodes were gonna be 20 minutes not 40-1hr

Also I suffered a bit of writers block, it happens

But regardless, I hope you all enjoy! ^ ^

(also the taglist has migrated to the bottom of the fic because it's a bit too long now)

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The office was large, sprawling walls contained by an even bigger ceiling. The faint humming of Tim’s computer provided no reassurance, nor did the soft leather of your seat. It felt as if you could sink right into it, and try to fade away. There was a faint aroma of coffee that lingered around the office, but it gave you no solace. It just reminded you of the mistakes you made, to end up here. The elephant in the room.

Tim’s smile was bright, a warm sun. You were burning.

“It’s.. nice to see you again.” You attempted, words stumbling about on your tongue. You couldn't help it, the mere presence of your soulmate sending anxiety skyrocketing down your spine. Why couldn't he just get to the point?

“I didn't really expect my company and Wayne Enterprises to be working together.” You continued, a fake smile plastered onto your face. “What a nice coincidence!”

“I hope for us to have a successful collaboration.” Tim replies, still smiling. “But enough about the companies, it's been so long since I've seen you, and I didn't have your number to text.”

You laugh in response, a pale imitation of a real laugh. You had hoped to focus on discussing the work you both had to do first, and then escape before any catch up talks were attempted. Unfortunately, it appears that Tim won't let you do any actual work before engaging with him.

Your nails dug into your knees, an attempt to stay calm. Your reply was measured.

“Oh are you sure? Surely it would be better to get work on the collaboration done first, then we’ll have all the time left to chat freely.”

“I wouldn't worry about that, really. We’ve got plenty of time together, and I wouldn't be able to work without knowing how you're doing lately. Since you didn't have the time to text, I presume you've been busy?”

“Ah, right! Yes! Yes I have been, busy that is, you know how it is with work. Endless and all that.” You were frustrated at being pushed into a lie already. Tim was in charge here and he knew it.

“Why don't you give me your number then?” His smile was perfect, as flawless as his manipulation. “That way, when you're too busy to remember to message, I can remind you.”

You frowned. Like he didn't know your number already.

Quickly remembering you had to smile, you gave him your number, watching as he slowly typed it in, then texted. Only when you showed you received his text did he relent.

The ‘meeting’ continued on from there, Tim asking about all your hobbies and passions. Time ticked on, daylight turning to evening. Any attempt from you to redirect the conversation to either himself or work was swiftly dismissed. A small part of you admired his skill, he was playing you like a doll. You knew it, but you had no option but to play along. It was like an older sibling playing pretend with the young sibling. You hated the comparison.

The attention was unnerving. Your only solace was that neither of you had soul animals present currently, which was an absolute miracle.

Actually… what if that isn't a coincidence at all? Could this too have been engineered? Was that even possible?

“So then what’s your opinion on..” The sound of Tim’s voice slammed you back to reality. You quickly focused back in, fearing losing any advantage due to a lack of attention.

Abruptly, an alarm sounded, the noise blazing a path through your eardrums. You jolted in surprise. Tim however, was barely rattled. A frown appeared on his face as he glanced at his phone.

“That was the Arkham Asylum breakout alarm. It's no longer safe to go outside.” With these words Tim got up, walking over to the door and opening it.

“What…?” You mumbled, horrified.

“Stay here.” He commanded, a firm tone in his voice. This was Red Robin. “I’m going to check on the building, don't leave, it isn't safe.”

“Wait! But.. the collaboration.. we didn't..” The words rushed out of your mouth, leaving you feeling like a fool as Tim paused for a moment, to look at you.

“Don't worry.” He smiled, the weight of it bearing down upon you. You felt small. “You can just come in tomorrow, I'm sure your company won't mind.” With the final word said, Tim closed the door, presumably rushing off to become Red Robin. The click of the door felt like a dismissal, a scolding. A reminder to stay in your place.

Once again, you were trapped.

You clenched your fists. He wanted you to stay here, in his territory. You didn't doubt that Wayne Enterprises had amazing security, probably some of the best considering the identities of the owners. This was likely the third most safe place in Gotham, with the first and second places going to Batman’s base and Wayne Manor.

But… you haven't learned anything yet. All that time spent with him and somehow he hadn't brought up that singular, obvious fact. There was no way he didn't know, not with the way he was acting. And yet, he hadn't brought it up. Why?

What was he getting out of this?

Was he hoping that if you assumed he didn't know then you could easily be monitored? Was he just gathering information before acting? Where was the rest of the vigilantes in this?

Your head was spinning, going in circles. You couldn't understand him, you couldn't understand any of them. Why choose to be vigilantes, knowing the costs that life endures? Why were you tied to them, when you were so against a fundamental part of their existence?

You couldn't understand this at all. How could this be the basis of a soulmate bond?

You were… opposites.

You felt the telltale beat of an oncoming headache. For your own sanity, you decided to fold the incoming soulmate crisis into a small cavity of your brain to panic about later.

Fact One: There was an ongoing Arkham Asylum breakout, everyone is either being attacked, hiding away or escaping the city.

Fact Two: Batman and all his partners are going to be occupied for at least several hours if not a day.

Fact Three: You were going to take advantage of this.

It was the perfect time. All your soulmates were occupied, so none of them would be able to pay any attention to you. Red Robin might know your identity, and so the other vigilantes may know as well.

That didn't need to matter. They may have the information, but information itself is useless, if they are unable to act.

Right now, any Gothamite that isn't involved with rogues is either hiding or escaping. You could join the escapes, and get out of Gotham in the rush.

You didn't have to stay here, to play the role of a caged bird. You could escape, before they even got a chance.

You had to try.

You suppressed a shaky sigh, getting up and walking to the door. You tried the door handle.

Locked.

Uh oh. You tried it again, and then a few more times after that, shaking the door eventually in your desperation. Oh come on! You desperately thought to yourself. The one time you finally got the perfect chance and it's being ruined by a locked door.

Wait. You glanced at the small window in the door, the beginnings of an idea sprouting in your head. You glance over at Tim’s desk, noticing a small paper weight. You smile.

Lifting the paperweight, you judge the weight to be enough. Holding it up, you get into position to throw.

Wait.. the door has a keyhole, not a sliding chain, you realize, almost too late.

Ah.

Well that would have been embarrassing.

Sadly, you place the paperweight back down. There goes that idea.

But that wasn't the only door in the office, there was another one, the one that the shouting voice left out of. You approach the door, trying the doorknob.

Click!

It opens! Giving a small laugh, you advance through the door and out into the halls of Wayne Enterprises, a jubilant smile on your face. Whoever was shouting at Tim earlier, you almost wanted to thank them.

You avoid the elevators, instead picking stairs, as you presumed they may also be in lockdown. It didn't take you too long to get down to the ground floor, since the main walking areas were now barren of people.

The ground floor had some unfortunate news to offer you though. The once wildly open doors had now been locked down and barred, an iron wall between you and freedom.

Although, maybe there was some other way, you thought, eyeing the anxious security guards patrolling the front entrance.

Pulling out of your hiding spot, you approach the guards, making to time your steps, making noise to not scare them. You really didn't want to get shot before you had even left the safety of the building.

“P-please help me!” You stuttered, trembling with tears in your eyes. The guards jolted in surprise, turning to face you. They were expecting threats from the outside, not the inside.

“I need to get home, I can't stay here.” You sobbed, the guards pausing in confusion. They didn't know what to do with you.

“What’s wrong?” A sympathetic guard asked, patting you gently on the back. You almost felt bad.

“I need to go home!” You repeated, tone frantic.

A disgruntled guard stepped up to you. “Look, no one can leave right now. Company policy. It isn't safe, there's been an Arkham breakout. Just sit tight, and whatever’s waiting for you at home will be there when you get back.”

“N-no…” You mumbled. “You don't understand.. I have.. I have a cat, waiting for me.” You glance up, watching the expressions on their faces. They seem unmoved. “A-and my child!” You cry out, realizing you needed a better lie.

“A child?” The disgruntled guard repeated, sounding a little more sympathetic, but clearly not convinced. He eyed you up and down, evidentially thinking you looked a little too young.

“They're so little, but my cat likes to take care of them and I needed the money so, so I left them at home alone today. But recently they're been figuring out how to open doors and if anything happened to them I don't know what I’d d-” Your frantic lie is cut off, the disgruntled guard laying a hand on your shoulder.

“Alright listen. None of us can escort you, we're here on the job.”

You nodded, feeling exuberation rush through you.

“But if anything happened, run right back here, alright?”

You nodded again, fighting a smile on your face. The guards unlocked the doors, watching you dash out with frowns on their tired faces.

They were obvious to the beaming smirk on yours.

Nights in Gotham are by nature a little terrifying, but they're nothing compared to an Arkham breakout night. Shadows crawled up alleyways, the smell of booze and smoke lingering in a way it never could on normal nights. The terror was so pungent in the air, you could almost taste it. It was on the tip of your tongue.

Every so often you'd hear a scream, and you'd walk a little faster. Ideally you would have committed to the stealth route, but you had wasted enough time already.

Your house was on the way to the bus station, so you could easily pop in, grab essentials, and get out. You wouldn't lie, you were nervous. Every so often you’d feel your knees lose strength, and you'd have to fight with your body to regain the strength to stand.

But at this point it was either the horror of whatever your soulmates had in store for you, or the horrors of Arkham night. You'd already picked your poison, now it was time to swallow.

You took a breath in, then out, and continued walking. You were almost there.

The streets of Gotham stretched on endlessly, a cacophony of fear.

Just a bit longer.

A gunshot sounded nearby, the noise blasting through your eardrum.

Almost there.

The hum of a van's engine rushed through the night, haunting laughter echoing through the road.

You could see your house!

You beamed, a smile lighting up your face, as you practically skipped up to the entrance. You reached into your bag to withdraw your keys.

You had just retrieved them when a crowbar smashed into your head.

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Wow umh, please pray for reader guys, this is NOT going well for them. Who do you think that was?

Me writing shenanigans for this chapter:

I just really feel like reader should smash open this window, let's do it. Wait. They wouldn't have doors that work like that. so reader sadly puts the heavy object down :(

Also me: yeah so reader lies here and it's an absolute mess

Also also me: rip reader that's a lotta head trauma omg

Sorry for the lack of soul animals this chapter :(( there's a reason I swear

The next chapter is definitely gonna be a bit insane, for sure! The soul animals return then anddd in droves!

Taglist: @moonchild-artemisdaughter @jjsmeowthie @madine11-blog @xxrougefangxx @hadesnewpersephone @neerathebrightstar @mel-star636 @jaythes1mp @rosecentury @lov3vivian @gaozorous-rex-blog @victoria1676 @vrsin @silverklaus @ryukyuin @kurai-hono-blog @thisisafish123 @isawyourbrowserhistory @ain-t-no-way-bsfr @realifezompire @lunaluz432 @nickey-diano @sukiiluvs @sara0055 @alleakimlala @kdidgg @paperhermits @lavender-moony @alishii @emmbny @sirenetheblogger @fantasy-angelo @andrasia @vinnvinnvintage @nyra-42 @armystaysatnct @beyond-your-stars @starsdotalk @adeptusxia0 @jailbimbo @yandereheros @sxftiebee @i-have-three-feelings @toast-on-dandelioms @lyl-3 @sitepathos @pato-spoiler-27 @ghostdoodlen @phoenixgurl030 @problematicreblogger @sociallyakwardpanda

@imaginarydreams @zanzie @yuyuzi-ling @soriansick @f1lover4ever @kiikkey @elizzsush @raincxtter @luoyi85 @yune1337 @erikasurfer @thekingofsimps @chaosbeanuwu

If I missed anyone out im super sorry! I generally check the replies for the current chapter and messages for people that want to be tagged, so it's possible for people to slip by

Just remind me again and I'll be sure to add you! (This also goes for if I misspell you accidentally, which also happens cuz I type them all manually)

For some reason I couldnt tag anymore people until I put a random space in-between the tags, so that's apparently a thing. If anyone has any ideas why, I'm listening

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ms-demeanor · 10 months ago

Note

You posted about adhd and I was hoping to follow up to clarify something. I’ve explained to my partner a million times about how the borderline-hoarding mess of his space is very mentally draining to me, and he understands but we’ve both essentially accepted he won’t clean his mess because he can’t because of his adhd. You’re saying he’s actually being a shit head?

This isn't necessarily an issue of him being a shithead, but it also isn't a sustainable situation. It's not good for you and there's a level of clutter that's probably not good for him either.

Large bastard is a lot more clutter-y than I am. The solution we've come to is trying to keep our messes at least isolated from one another; he can have his messes and I can have mine, but he can have those messes in his spaces, not all over the place. Sometimes those messes migrate, and that's when it's important for him to make the effort to rein them in rather than trying and failing to make a daily effort to keep our entire shared space tidy.

I think when you say "we've both essentially accepted he won't clean his mess" what I'm hearing is resignation; you're not happy about this but you don't know what to do so you've thrown up your hands and he feels helpless and unsure of what to do to improve the situation. This is the kind of "it's fine" that isn't really fine.

I think it would be worthwhile for you to each separately think about the mess and talk about it together. Are there areas that YOU *need* to have not-messy? Both for utility and your mental health? Are there areas where you can tolerate more mess than otherwise? Are there areas that are going to be harder for him to keep the mess out of than others? Are there things he doesn't *know* about cleaning up the mess?

I'm obviously a big "communication communication communication" person so I'm going to recommend a lot of talking about stuff, which is probably going to mean a lot of thinking about and interrogating stuff. I'm going to say "talk to him about why the mess bothers you" which means you also have to really articulate to yourself why the mess bothers you (for instance I'm not actually *bothered* by a messy kitchen, but I know it's going to reflect badly on us - and me specifically b/c of presumed gender roles - if someone pops by and the kitchen is a disaster, AND a messy kitchen is going to be harder to use). Genuinely, sometimes knowing *why* something is a problem might make it easier for someone with ADHD to do something. And it's not that he doesn't care that it upsets you, it's just that "Oh if I don't wash my breakfast dishes Anon won't have clear counterspace to make lunch" might be stickier in his brain (and less hard to look at emotionally) than "this thing I forget to do upsets my partner so I should do it."

For the record, I think that people with ADHD should read up on Demand Avoidance and see if it might explain some of the issues that they have in their day-to-day life; I've seen some really unfortunate situations with friends where trying to do things that their partner needed became the subject of demand avoidance. *I* have experienced negative outcomes of demand avoidance. The solution to that, however, isn't to stop making attempts to do the thing OR to simply try harder to do as they're asked/told (which reinforces the demand), it's to work on setting up a situation where the partners' needs are not interpreted as a demand. This is fuck-off difficult and requires a lot of patience and care and many attempts to succeed and will be different for each person and relationship.

(Also for the record demand avoidance isn't *super* strongly linked to ADHD and it's not a definitive symptom; like Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, it is something that occurs in some number of people with ADHD and can be a useful lens through which to examine various behaviors; you don't need to have DA or RSD to have ADHD, and having DA or RSD also doesn't invalidate your diagnosis; they're symptoms. For me, DA often feels like "if I don't look at it, it can't get me" - If I ignore all the messages I've got they aren't real and don't have real consequences so I'll just ignore my texts. If I don't look at the vendor email about the order, the problem with the order isn't real and it won't get added to my task list. If I don't look at the requests in my inbox I can't let people down when I don't do them. It's a self-protective coping mechanism but it's *maladaptive* and I can't just ignore the vendor email or all my texts. I need to work on a way of doing the stuff that I'm avoiding in a way that makes it less stressful and doesn't hurt the people relying on me. That takes a lot of effort, personal insight, trial and error, and )

But before I dive into specifics I want to be really really clear about one thing: sometimes people are simply incompatible. Sometimes one person has such a low tolerance for "mess" and the other person has such a high threshold for "mess" that it can't be reconciled. It sucks that this can end up being a thing that people break up over, but it is MUCH better to acknowledge incompatibility as early as possible instead of spending years and years building resentment.

There used to be a great forum called MiL's Anonymous that I spent a lot of time on. It had a lot of people in a lot of difficult situations struggling to get by and hold their relationships together. The question that was used as a litmus test to approach each situation was simple: If you knew today that everything about living with this person would be the same in five years, would you stay?

Because you can't control your partner. You can't control the future. You can only control yourself and your proximity to situations that are harmful to you. If you knew, 100%, that things wouldn't get better in five years, would you be okay with staying in this relationship? If the answer is "no," then that's that. Don't worry about questions of whether or not your boyfriend is a shithead, start the process of ending the relationship because there's a good chance the situation is going to be exactly the same in five years.

If the answer is "yes," and you'd stay in the relationship regardless of whether or not things changed, then it's time to take actions to improve your life within the context of the relationship.

(No judgement on that yes or no, btw. If you would hate living like this for another five years, and you would feel like you'd wasted your time and hadn't done the things you wanted to with your life, get out. Bail. Go. It will be better for you and better for your partner if you split instead of spending half a decade building resentments and and problems that you'll have to spend another half a decade healing from.)

Also, a note: you describe your boyfriend's mess as borderline hoarding - is the issue *mess* or is the issue *clutter*? I have friends who are very tidy, but whose homes are very cluttered. They like things, they have many things, they keep many things around, but their houses are always clean and well-dusted and orderly, just with a tremendous amount of *stuff.* I am addressing all of this as though the issue is mess, not clutter. If your boyfriend's situation is clutter (the space is busy and packed with things but it is functional and clean) and your issue isn't with *mess* (things out of place, things not having a place, things that need to be cleaned up gathering in stacks, falling behind on regular chores like laundry and dishes and taking out the trash) then you definitely need to assess whether or not you are compatible.

For instance here's a room that is messy but not cluttered compared to a room that is cluttered but not messy:

That first room is a *mess* but it would be very easy to clean up in under an hour. The second room is fairly tidy, but would take significant effort to pare down and declutter. BOTH of these can be difficult to live with but the second one is not dangerous or threatening to anyone's health. (The second one is QUITE cluttered and if every room in a house looks like this it can be overwhelming to live with; this is actually harder to deal with in a relationship than the first one in a lot of ways. I don't have a lot of advice for what to do if your partner is a high degree of tidy-but-cluttered because I don't actually think it's a problem or wrong to have thousands of books or bins full of lego or a million kitchen appliances as long as you have the space and can keep it safe and well-maintained; this is a really significant compatibility issue)

Okay, all that out of the way, here's the hard work.

Talk about this shit

Talk to your partner and define "mess." Make sure you are on the same page about what you mean when you're talking about what a messy room looks like versus what a tidy room looks like. Gather reference pictures. DRAW reference pictures.

Explain not just that the mess upsets you, but *why* and *how* it upsets you. In this context don't think of it as your boyfriend's mess, think of it as an unpleasant roommate. Discuss this using "I-statements". "When I have to pick up laundry all over the apartment, I feel like a parent more than a partner." "When there are piles of miniatures all over the table, I feel like I don't have anywhere to do things I'm interested in." "When there are dishes in the sink, I feel frustrated because I have to clean before I can feed myself."

Discuss, frankly and openly, whether he knows how to clean. I'm not trying to make excuses for him here but a lot of people with ADHD have a lot of stress and avoidance around cleaning because they spent a lot of time getting yelled at for not knowing how to clean properly.

Discuss your needs, be firm about what you require but willing to compromise. You *need* some spaces to be clean, and some spaces may be harder for him to keep clean than others. It may be MUCH harder for him to keep a bedroom tidy than it is to keep a kitchen tidy; if you need a clean and empty bedroom with everything put away and he simply cannot do that, that is a compatibility issue. But perhaps you need *your* side of the bedroom to be very orderly and can tolerate a moderate level of mess and clutter on his side. Maybe you're really really bothered by a messy kitchen, but it doesn't bug you if the dining table is covered with projects and papers. Figure out something more workable than "his mess goes everywhere and i live with it because he's incapable of cleaning" because he probably is not incapable of cleaning and you deserve to have places in your home that are comfortable for you.

Reduce friction for cleaning

Sometimes the problem isn't cleaning, the problem is the many many steps before cleaning, or not knowing where something should go when you are done cleaning. One of the absolute best things I've done for myself for cleaning my space is getting a broom holder and mounting the broom to the wall. Sweeping is now essentially thoughtless. I don't have to find the broom or pull it out from a pile of fans or go scrounging around for a dustpan it's right there on the wall, frictionless. So here are some ways to reduce the barriers to cleaning:

Make sure you and your partner both know how to use your cleaning supplies and know where those supplies are. When I switched dishwasher soap I had to re-show Large Bastard where I was storing it and how it was used, because to him what happened was the dishwasher tabs just vanished one day and he didn't know what I was putting in the machine or the process I used. He sometimes puts tools away in places that I can't see (he's more than a foot taller than me) so sometimes I can't get started on a maintenance project until he shows me where he put the battery pack for the drill.

Consider making a how-to chart to or having him make a how-to chart to keep someplace accessible so he can reference it while cleaning. Goblin.Tools Magic ToDo is great for this. Basically a lot of the time people with ADHD have trouble knowing what to do from step to step even if they've done something before, so having a step by step guide can make it easier (I have notebooks full of step-by-step guides for everything from paying for my tuition to removing licenses for my customers to weeding my yard)

Remove obstacles; don't keep cleaning chemicals in the garage in a box that's behind a stack of parts, keep them in the room you'll be cleaning. Don't keep the cleaning supplies that you use to clean the bathroom in the kitchen. Sometimes this means buying two bottles of bleach solution and two scrubbers and two sets of cleaning gloves but having fewer steps (fetch the windex, fetch the paper towels, fetch the gloves) is often the key to getting things done (open under-sink cabinet and grab windex, gloves, and paper towels that are there instead of in the kitchen).

This sort of overlaps with the next category, which is:

Create Dump Zones

One thing that I've found that seems very different between people with ADHD cleaning and neurotypical people cleaning is that neurotypical people are good at getting to a point where the cleaning is "done." They have checked off their tasks and they have finished and it is over. There are *SOME* chores that are like this (taking out the trash is a binary state, the trash has been taken out or it has not) and some chores are perpetual (horrid cursed dishes) but I think with people with ADHD, some chores that are binary for neurotypicals are actually perpetual chores. For instance "clean off the counter" is not a one and done for me. "Clean off the counter" may involve a three day reorganization project. "Clean off the counter" does not mean "wipe down the tile and put dishes away" it means assessing whether or not I need to make vegetable stock and bleaching three tea containers and reconsidering whether or not the sharps container should live somewhere else and going through the mail and figuring out what needs to be responded to and taking out the recycling and on and on and on.

We have had company at the house for the last two weeks, so I asked large bastard to clean off the dining room table, which is largely a project zone for him. Cleaning off the dining room table meant putting away his meds (and since he's a transplant patient that involves a 30 gallon rubbermade tote), throwing away some trash, and totally reorganizing his workshop. It also incidentally involved picking up a table from facebook marketplace and moving my plants, which has now involved moving my former plant rack outside (moving buckets, finding and organizing planters and gardening tools) and taking the former table to the thrift store (not done yet) and cleaning the rug that was under the former table. So "either the table is clean, or it isn't" isn't really true for us.

HOWEVER "hang on we can't eat until the table is clear so let's drive to Pico Rivera to get that console table right now" isn't a workable plan, so you create dumpzones as areas of holding between the start and the finish of the chore.

A dump zone can be a laundry basket. It can be a craft bin. It can be a back room or under your bed. It is a place to put things that you are going to deal with later because if you deal with them now it is going to derail the thing you are actually trying to do, which is set the table for dinner.

Dump zones are vital to cleaning with ADHD and I recommend them for day-to-day cleaning as well. The day-to-day dump zones might be more for you than for your boyfriend. For instance, Large Bastard works with bullets and he sheds bullets all over the house. I used to get stressed when I found bullets when I was cleaning because are these work bullets? Are these recreational bullets? Are they in testing? Do they need to be pulled? Do they go in the workshop or the office or the garage or does he need these today so they have to stay on the counter? And the answer now is "that's not my problem naughty bullets go in the jar." Which is perfectly sensible because he gets to say "mystery yarn goes in the bin" and "art supplies go in the bucket."

I feel helpless when cleaning a lot of the time. I'm frustrated and lost and I don't know where stuff goes and everything I pick up spins off into three projects in my head and every step feels like a wall to scale. Dump zones help me with that when there's pressure or a reason for cleaning beyond day to day home maintenance. People are coming over? The bedroom is a dump zone, I'll deal with that later. I'm just cleaning up because I need to? Okay I can find a permanent home for this new dish soap.

AS A VERY IMPORTANT COROLLARY TO THIS:

Active projects do not go in dump zones while you or your partner are cleaning. This may mean designating a project sanctuary area like a corner of the table or one particular chair in your main room where a project can be placed so as not to be disturbed. (if my current crochet project ends up in the yarn bin, that may mean that I don't pick the project up for another three months, it lives on the windowsill behind the couch because that's where it'll get worked on)

Do not put things away for your partner, put them in the dump zone for your partner. Your partner has to be the one to put their own stuff away in a way that works for them. I tend to find that this naturally puts a limit on the time stuff sits in the dump zone, because eventually you'll go "hey where's my thing?" and will put stuff away. If that doesn't happen, it's still generally better to have stuff in a dump zone than all over the home.

Do not decide you know what things go together from your partner's stuff and try to "put like things together." The neurotypical urge to put like things together is the mindkiller(j/k). You do not know which things are "similar" in your partner's organization schema and attempting to organize things on your own is going to end up with all of the things "organized" being functionally lost forever from your partner's perspective. Large Bastard's mom would do this and it was infuriating, she'd say "oh I put all the electronics stuff in one box" and she would mean soldering irons, transistors, ham radios, HDMI cables, and cellphone chargers. We are *still* going through boxes of stuff that she "tidied up" when he was hospitalized in 2020 and 2021.

To prevent the need for quite so many dump zones over time, you can work on setting up landing zones and "homes" for projects and tools.

Landing Zones

Landing zones are places where things go when you come inside from doing various things. Sometimes your landing zone only needs to be a tray for your wallet and keys, sometimes your landing zone needs to be a place to take off muddy boots and put a trowel and gloves down before you shower.

To make an effective landing zone, consider what behaviors you're trying to minimize and whether the people using it are ACTUALLY going to use it. For instance I was tired of the corner of my hearth getting cluttered with random junk so I hung up some hooks and put a shelf and a basket there and it became a really effective landing zone for my bag and keys and the mail, but it was VERY ineffective for Large Bastard because it's by a door that isn't the primary door he uses to enter the house. As a result I always know where my keys and bag are but he has trouble finding his keys and wallet. He tends to enter the house through our bedroom and has an overloaded valet next to the door and that's usually where his wallet ends up. Mounting a shelf to the wall above the valet and putting a basket and a hook on it will be a better place for his stuff to land. It's not that he's not using the first zone because he doesn't know that it's there, or because he doesn't care about lost time when I'm searching for my car keys after he borrows them, he's not using it because it's not by the door he uses. That's all.

I have a landing space for when I come in for gardening that's different than the one when I come in from grocery shopping. I have a landing space for when I walk into the dining room instead of the kitchen when I get home.

Landing spaces prevent stuff from piling up all over the place because they are a limited functional space that should be used frequently. Mail ONLY goes in the landing zone. If you have mystery mail or if you're not sure it's safe to toss, you put it in the landing zone. You can't let the mail get piled up too high or you won't have a space for your keys. You can't let the change in your wallet tray get too deep or your wallet is going to slide off, etc., but you also don't just put change on the coffee table or your nightstand because the landing zone is right there.

Homes for items are just what they sound like. They're the place the item goes. It lives there. My meds live on my nightstand. You would not believe how poorly I did with taking my meds on my vacation because they weren't on my nightstand. A while back large bastard lost one of his sets of sorted meds and we tore the house up looking for them because he couldn't find them in his nightstand, which is where they live. *I* found them in his nightstand because I emptied out the entire top drawer (he had only looked on the top layer) and found them underneath a radio and a hammock. Even though they were *hidden* they were in their home, so they were findable. I recently needed ink for an art class. Art supplies live in a dresser by my desk. Ink lives in the art bin or the top left drawer. The ink was not in either of these places (it was on a cabinet in the dining room behind a teacup) so it took me weeks to find it.

Sometimes the reason that ADHD spaces are so messy is because objects have been assigned homes in places that are visible and if they get moved they get lost. This is a genuinely difficult problem that requires a lot of effort to solve and can involve a lot of trial and error for creating a tidy living space. For some people, open shelving and visible storage might be a good solution. For some people, assigning a VERY clear home and inculcating that location by habit is the only way to clean up a space. For some people one very cluttered corner to at least isolate the chaos does the trick (for me and large bastard open shelving doesn't work because anything in one place for too long becomes invisible; that means that I rely on assigning things homes and large bastard relies on having contained chaos and a general idea of where to search but what that DOES NOT mean is that he is clean or tidy. His spaces look like an explosion. But he can mostly find his stuff and do what he needs to do and as long as that's limited to specific places in shared spaces I can live with it; the dining room table can be a disaster, the kitchen cannot).

People organize things differently. It often takes a while for neurotypical adults to settle into an organizational style that works for them and ADHD adults may need to settle into a new system every few months for it to continue working. The cleanup and declutter is most likely going to be a permanent project that is always going to demand some level of attention from everyone in a shared space, but "my ADHD means I can't do it" is not really going to fly. Maybe his ADHD means that he can't keep his space tidy, but it doesn't mean you can't move stuff from shared spaces into dump zones or that he can't do stuff around the house.

If he's insisting that his ADHD means that he can't clean it is possible that he's not being a shithead, he just feels helpless and doesn't know where to start and has adopted the belief that he's a useless piece of shit who can't even keep a tidy space like a grownup because he's internalized a lot of shitty attitudes (hello, my internal monologue about keeping a clean house). But it's also possible that he's just being a shithead.

It's something that's worthwhile to investigate with him. If he's unwilling to make an attempt, then he's being a shithead.

It is also not your responsibility to rehabilitate another person. If he wants to clean and it's something he feels bad about and needs some help and support with the way that someone might need help or support for learning to use a mobility aid, that is fine but you don't have to be the one who gives him that support if it's detrimental to your health, and you don't have to be the one to teach him that stuff if it's not something you're capable of. And if he is NOT interested in working on making your shared living space more accessible for you, that is not your suitcase to unpack and you just have to ask yourself the question from the start: would I stay with this person if I knew the situation was never going to change?

IDK, I'm sure a lot of this reads like "anon you must take on the emotional labor of training your partner to be an adult" but it's really meant to be more of a way of assessing yourself and your relationship. If you created landing zones do you think he'd use them? Would he get angry if you assigned a laundry basket as a dump zone for his stuff while you tidy the living room? Is living with him long-term going to be comfortable for you if nothing changes? Do you have enough of a shared definition of "mess" that you're at least in the ballpark for what counts as a clean house?

anyway good luck, and a reminder to folks that I'm compiling a bunch of adhd resources and other information on my personal website, ms-demeanor.com. It's coming along slowly but it will eventually include stuff like ADHD cleaning tips and how to tackle a hoard, so maybe keep your eye on that space.

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serpent-of-hope · 23 days ago

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*Propaganda, fun facts, and owl pics under the cut

BARN OWL:

Last year's winner and our current reigning champion, the Barn Owl is back to defend their title! What makes the Barn Owl so popular? Their haunting face? Their screeching cries? Their vast range - nesting on every continent save Antarctica, vastly increasing their chance of being your local owl? Only you can say! And only you can secure the Barn Owl's victory for another year!

PYGMY OWL:

Meet the pygmy, an owl species so small that they are better called owlets! Don't underestimate these hunters, they're locked in a standing war with the songbirds - the owls swallowing the songbirds up and the songbirds retaliating by mobbing the owls in large flocks.

SNOWY OWL:

Known by many names: the polar owl, white owl, and Arctic owl among them, this is the largest North American owl by weight. Most snowy owls are barred with dark brown markings (like the one pictured here). If you see a pure white owl, it's a sure sign you've found a mature male.

EURASIAN EAGLE OWL:

Swooping in to riotous demand, behold the Eurasian Eagle Owl!

To all those mortally offended by the accidental exclusion of the Eurasian Eagle Owl last year, please accept this offering, of a link to Episode 100 of the very excellent podcast Beyond Blathers, bringing you 48 delightful minutes of Eurasian Eagle Owl facts and stories:

SAW-WHET OWL:

The most common owl in North American forests, the saw-whet owl calls through the evening skies with a high-pitched call like a saw being sharpened on a whet stone - hence the name.

SPECTACLED OWL:

The smart-looking Spectacled Owl makes its home in mature rainforest, though they have been known to venture into the desert for food. You'll know these owls by sight, thanks to their distinctive mask, and by sound, making a vibrating call like someone shaking a thin sheet of metal.

SCREECH OWL:

As the name suggests, you'll hear these owls before you see them, and you might think you're being haunted if you do! You might also be able to track them by their owl pellets - regurgitated packets of undigestable bones, fur, and feathers - littered around their nesting sites.

BARRED OWL:

You'll know Barred Owls when you hear them, calling "Who cooks for you? Who? Who? Who cooks for you?" through the dark of night. Compared to other owls, Barred Owls don't migrate. Fossils of this bird dating back 11,000 years have been found in Ontario

GREAT HORNED OWL:

Also called a tiger owl, a winged tiger, or a tiger of the air, these birds are fierce predators, capable of besting other raptors - including the barred owl. They are so strong, that it takes 28lbs of force to open their claws.

BURROWING OWL:

As the name suggests, these owls prefer nesting in the abandoned burrows of other underground-dwelling animals to roosting in the trees! though their nests may be pre-owned, these owls have been known to decorate with bottle caps and bits of foil or paper. By the same grounded preference, you're more likely to spot one running after its prey than flying, making good use of their long legs.

LONG-EARED OWL:

With a permanent expression of someone who just caught got doing something they're not supposed to, these owls are indeed sneaks, opting to claim nests built by others rather than constructing their own. But for all their sneaky ways, Long Eared Owls are among the friendliest, roosting in groups of up to 150 members.

BLACKISTON'S FISH OWL:

Standing at 70cm tall, the Blakiston's Fish Owl reigns in Northeast Asia as the largest living owl on earth. True to their name, they eat mostly fish and have no trouble diving from the skies in pursuit of a trout, pike, salmon.

#Spotify #superb owl #Superbowl #Superb Owl Competition #Superb Owl Competition 2025 #polls #tumblr polls #owl #owls #superbowl 2025 #wwdits #fun polls #poll

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woso-dreamzzz · 2 months ago

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Surgery: Christmas

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader

Summary: Christmas with Cub

"We could get her another cat?"

"We're not getting her another cat!"

It's strangely difficult to find ideas for Christmas presents to give a little girl that's only obsessed with cats, the washing machine and baking.

Your mothers can't exactly buy you your own washing machine or an electric mixer or, god forbid, another massive cat for you to carry around and insist isn't fat, isn't a complete monster or isn't the absolutely worst enemy of your mothers.

One of those worst enemies, your incredibly fat tabby Garfield, sits on the kitchen counter attempting to bat open a box of cereal to feed his never ending hunger.

Mapi and Ingrid ignore him, knowing that sooner or later this burst of energy will leave and he will amble off to a sunspot so he can nap away the rest of the day.

"Mami!" A call comes from your bedroom. "I'm stuck again!"

Mapi scrubs a hand over her face. "Just a minute, cub! I'm coming!" She turns back to Ingrid. "Definitely a no to the cat?"

Ingrid sighs. "No more cats."

"Just trying to make it easier on us!"

"Go and help our kid put on her t-shirt. I've got this."

But Ingrid very much doesn't have this. It shouldn't be this difficult to find a Christmas present for you but you're such a content kid. You've already got toys and the tv and the washing machine and the cats.

There's not really much else you want or need.

You're no help either, of course, because when Ingrid asks, you just reply with a simple:

"Er...I can get more time in yours and Mami's bed?"

So, it was very clear that you didn't quite know what you wanted for Christmas either apart from, clearly, curling up in Mapi and Ingrid's bed with them and probably kicking Mapi in her sleep.

Ingrid spends weeks stewing over what she and Mapi could get you. They'd gotten you a few throw away things like a new yellow digger after your last one fall off the balcony and smashed into the pavement below and a cute little necklace that doubled as identification with things like your name and had Mapi and Ingrid's numbers on them in case you ever went missing in a crowded area.

In the end, it's Frido that comes to her and Mapi's rescue, throwing out an idea at random during lunch when Aitana takes you up to the buffet to find some chicken.

It's a throwaway comment but with Mapi and Ingrid struggling to work out what else they could get you, they cling to it like a lifeline. They're fairly easy presents to source, something that Ingrid is glad for because she's cutting it abnormally close to Christmas day to get everything sorted.

"Mami..."

There's a crackle on the monitor that has Mapi stirring awake.

"Maaaami."

Mapi counts to ten in her mind before rolling out of bed, kissing a still sleeping Ingrid on the cheek and making her way out to your room.

"Merry Christmas, cub," She says as she pushes open your bedroom door," I see you've got company."

All of the cats seem to have migrated to your bed overnight.

Garfield, as usual, is laying on his back after (presumably) being used as a stuff animal for most of the night. Bagheera sits by your feet, grooming herself primly while the monstrous León-León stands nearby, tail flicking from side to side as he stares.

"We had Christmas cuddles," You say happily," And now we have the gingerbread?"

"We'll have to wait. Mama is still asleep."

"Why?"

"Huh? Why is Mama still asleep? She's tired."

"But why?"

"Because she was busy making sure everything was good for today."

"But why?"

Mapi scrubs a hand over her face. "You know what, let's go eat that gingerbread. Then we'll go and get your Mama."

You wiggle happily all the way to the kitchen, where Mapi lifts you up onto the counter so you can have a breakfast of the gingerbread you and Ingrid made last night and so Mapi can stop you from running into their room before Ingrid is awake enough to function.

The cats come running in as soon as they hear the rattling of their dishes - though Garfield kind of lumbers in, far behind León-León and Bagheera but still manages to steal most of the food.

Mapi does a pretty good job of stopping you going for the presents until Ingrid finally gets up, a nice warm mug of coffee waiting for her and an overly excited child trying to shove some gingerbread into her mouth.

"Tha-Thanks, Cub," Ingrid laughs as she pushes away one of your sticky little hands from where it's trying to shove biscuit into her mouth," But I'm fine with my coffee."

"It's good," You say through your own full mouth and Ingrid laughs.

"I know because it was made by us, with lots of love." Ingrid kisses the tip of your nose. "But really you should eat it all yourself."

"Really?"

"Really-really," Ingrid insists and you giggle, kicking your feet happily as you finally settle on her lap, sprinkling gingerbread crumbs everywhere as you move.

Garfield, as he always does whenever there's food to spare, comes ambling over to eat them all up.

Usually, Ingrid would scold him but Mapi's coming over with presents and she decides that even the cats can get away with things they usually wouldn't today.

"Are you ready for presents?" Ingrid asks, bouncing her knee so you burst into a round of giggles.

"Presents!"

Mapi and Ingrid exchange triumphant looks as you tear open your presents.

Your new ID necklace is placed snugly around your neck immediately, ready for in case you get lost during the walk your mothers have planned later that day.

You take great delight in placing your new yellow digger with all of your other construction toys in the corner of the room next to your little wooden set of tools.

"Mama! Mami! It's CAT!"

It's truly a surprise how many CAT themed things the club has managed to make in such a short amount of time. It's even more surprising just how much stuff they can buy for so cheap a price with their team member discounts.

But, perhaps the most surprising of all is how much the club was willing to just straight up give to them in return for just a few pictures of you with CAT the mascot.

It's not shocking to the staff and fans alike who the biggest CAT fan is and, while you do regularly appear on Mapi and Ingrid's Instagrams, it's a rarer feat to see you featured on the team's.

But, with just three pictures of you with CAT and a very cute video of you nearly taking the mascot of their feet in an attempt to hug them, Mapi and Ingrid received a bundle of CAT merch in return.

"It is CAT," Mapi laughs," It's a t-shirt with CAT on it!"

"And a keyring! And a new mug!" Ingrid continues as you rip open your presents, getting more and more excited the more CAT things you see.

"CAT's my second best friend," You tell Mapi and Ingrid earnestly in the next hour as you all take a nice walk together through the park.

"Oh, yeah?" Mapi says," And who's your best friend?"

"You and Mama," You reply.

"Oh, cub," Ingrid coos," That's so swe-"

"And Bagheera and Garfield and León-León."

Mapi laughs. "There it is."

#woso x reader #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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acid-ixx · 3 months ago

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Ohhhhhhhmisggashoosghhh

I love everything about "before the bell rings"

Such masterpiece such peakness oh my goodkdasssdffrddf. Couldnt stop thinking abt it couldnt stop rereading it its ltrly currently 3:11 am rn i wasnt aware of the time all i know was that i was obsessively drawing this man with your story in my mind my god i couldnt stop giggling and blushing n i had to take few breaks n paces in my room to cool off

HOPE U ARENT TOO WEIRDED OUT

— related post ! (tw: a bit nsfw, non-con kissing)

OHMYGOD. OHMYGOD!!! user luffyadolover you are the gift that keeps on giving because WHAT THE HELL??? more than five sketches of this feral, horny man and HE'S SO HANDSOME ILYSM FOR THIS!!! i'm actually so down bad i had to stare at the last image for a few minutes because YOU DREW THE ENTIRE SCENE SO WELL.

i love the first image, you drew him so well, the slick-back hair and everything!?!? with him looking all so proud of himself when he chooses something for his spouse that they actually really like, as if he didn't just planned to ignore you or to simply hastily choose whichever looks the fanciest; that was the plan until his brain haywires just witnessing the absolute joy on your face every time he picks something right; imprinting the memory of your smile in his brain to the point he sees it every time he blinks— so now it's become his daily mission after falling for you to traverse each and every shopping site and malls in his batcave to ensure you only get the highest quality of gifts. mind you, he is a very dedicated man, bruce wayne doesn't give up so easily.

AND THE SECOND AND THIRD IMAGES TOO !!! with his mask on, you couldn't really tell just how obsessed he is, due to the blunt face he always has to wear, but the comparison of him without; with the stare that speaks of a million promises all dedicated to honoring and cherishing his beloved spouse. he doesn't need wedding vows when his eyes (always almost unexpressive, unable to fully show the full range of his emotions; vulnerable in the midst of worshipping his sleeping, little deity) already presents what your future life would like with him.

it doesn't matter if you're drooling, or butt-fuck naked. if i say he's remembering every small, incoherent detail about how you sleep, what position you sleep in, even the position you bury your head in the pillow, let that devotion cement in the very crevices of his mind and in every corner of his heart. it wouldn't matter anyways that you're sleeping alone, hugging a pillow (that should've been him) now, because soon, you'd be quickly migrated in his bed, in his arms, and you won't be getting out. he'd be too invested in the smell of your hair, the feel of the pudge in your stomach, and the seams of your clothing rubbing against his thighs to even allow you to let go.

AND GOD, THE SKETCH WHERE HE'S JUST LICKING THE SPIT AND ALL?!? my brain is malfunctioning, i'm going insane. this is my favorite fanart of yours so far, i'm so grateful for your existence because you've graced me 😭 i'm absolutely not going to deny the future accusations of me writing for debauched and absolutely feral and/or horny bruce wayne!!! trust me when i'm telling you that he's not only memorizing exterior parts of you, but bruce promises (it's actually just him justifying his actions) himself that he has to remember what the inside of your mouth feels like to fully and properly kiss you before your wedding date arrives, just to establish how much of an absolutely perfect husband he will be for you.

to make up for all his past mistakes of absolutely ignoring you, to ensure you that it's not you who's the problem— it's him and he has to fix it all. he has to guarantee that you won't even dare look at another man; even if it means watching you every night disguised as the bat, then coming home to the manor (your shared home, soon) by the time the sun breaks out of its sleepy stupor, just to dream about what it'd feel like pinning you willingly and taking you all for himself after your honeymoon— how could a man like him stop dreaming about his beloved spouse? how could he control his hands to stop lingering beneath his utility belt just to touch and pleasure his body the same way he wishes to worship yours?

the answer is: you don't. or rather, you couldn't.

so if you ever feel your lips becoming more and more sore every other night, and notice the trinkets from your desk and even undergarments from your closet now missing... well, you'll soon know who the culprit is...

a/n: no, i do not tolerate this behavior irl. once again, pls be aware guys that this is a yandere blog (and i've been writing content like this for years) and i'm bound to write more extreme concepts compared to this. the only element that never disappears from this is that i'm writing under the sub-"category" of soft yandere. that doesn't mean it doesn't stray away from the eventual dub-con/non-con.

once again, thank u so much for the dedication to send me so many good fanarts @luffyadolover 😭🥹, although i may not always reply quickly, i appreciate you and all the other fanartists who spend their time drawing inspired by my content. it's truly an honor, and in all my years of writing, you guys are one of the reason why i still continue to write <333

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dollfacefantasy · 4 months ago

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WHICH ONE TO CHOOSE?

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader x chris redfield x carlos oliveira

summary: at a halloween party, you and your boyfriend play out a little fantasy with chris and carlos.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, anal, blowjobs, face fucking, foursome, cnc, praise/degradation, intoxication/alcohol, pre-planned roleplay scenario

wc: 4.2k

a/n: it's a little messy but i hope you guys like this one. it's set in an au where re characters are allowed to experience happiness <3 anyways comments, reblogs, and asks are always appreciated.

kinktober slot: day 26 - cnc

Holding Leon's hand tight in your own, you drag him along the cement pathway leading to Rebecca and Billy's front door. Their yard is decked out like it is every year you've been to one of these things. Cobwebs sprawl across the arch ways while purple and orange lights glow in each window. Skeletons hang by the doorway and loud music thumps from inside.

Pushing open the mahogany surface, you stretch your free arm above your head and announce your presence.

Rebecca who's standing near the entryway hears the call of your voice and turns to greet you. A smile spreads across her lips as she takes in you and Leon together.

"There you two are. I was starting to wonder if you couldn't make it this year," she says.

"Pfft. Please, the year we miss one of your parties is the year Leon's horrible driving has taken us out on the way here," you joke, earning chuckles from her and Billy who's come up from behind her.

Leon, in contrast to them, shakes his head before wrapping his arm around your neck and pulling you closer to him.

"Don't encourage her," he tells them with a suppressed smile.

Rebecca playfully rolls her eyes and waves him off. The song switches in the background, going from something low and quick to the slower melody of Eyes Without a Face.

"Really though, it's great to see you both. You guys look great," she praises.

"Thank you," you beam at the compliment, smoothing out the blood-spattered, white dress that covered your figure. Glancing up at Leon, you pull his Jason mask down over his features so that the looks are complete.

"You and Billy look super cute too," you continue as your eyes scan over their simple matching doctor and nurse outfits, Rebecca being the one in the doctor's white coat and the tall man behind her in the little hat with the red cross on it.

She thanks you in return, and the two of you chatter on while you migrate into the living room to join the rest of the party. The usual crowd spans across the main part of the house, from the couches near the fireplace to the bar set up in the kitchen. While you yourself are not a government employee, you'd become friends with almost everyone here who is over the course of your relationship with Leon.

You prance over to Claire and Jill sitting on the sofa first, giving the younger woman a big hug over her shoulders from behind before reaching for Jill and bringing her in too. Claire returns the embrace by covering your forearm with her palm while Jill pats your bicep in acknowledgement.

You take in their costumes too. Claire has ditched her red jacket for the night and instead dons a black sweater with bat wings attached to the back. Jill, on the other hand, looks like she just got off of work, but you suppose soldier could technically be a costume.

"How are you guys? Oh my gosh, Jill it's been so long since I last saw you," you gush.

They give the usual small talk responses, checking in on you as well. Their eyes flit to Leon a few feet behind you with brief waves.

"Have you been keeping him in line?" Claire teases with a smile.

You nod proudly and lean back, wrapping your hands around his arm. "You know it," you chirp.

The small group of you banter back and forth for a while, catching up, talking about plans for the future. Even though these are Leon's friends, you're often much more talkative with them than he is. It's an arrangement that works for you both. You never mind taking the weight of socialization off his shoulders.

After the conversation with Claire and Jill runs its course, the two of you head to the bar. Your hips sway to the pulsing of the music playing while Leon rests a hand on the curve of your side. You and him traverse through the gathering of less familiar faces, friends of friends or newbies you hadn't acquainted yourself with yet. When you reach a clear area on-looking the kitchen, you immediately spot Chris leaning against the wall with a drink in hand. A generic wolf mask sits next to him on the counter, the costume he'd already abandoned.

You dart over to him with a smile on your face, ready to hug him as soon as you're close enough. He startles a little from the sudden contact against his chest, but once he sees it's you, your happiness infects him and softens the look in his eyes. His large palm lands on your back, giving you a few small pats.

"Hey you," he says.

"Hey yourself," you respond and pull back.

He nods at Leon and looks between the two of you.

"Cute costume. You supposed to be Leon's helpless victim?" he teases.

"Mhm," you hum with a nod.

You're about to say something else, but the man in the kitchen who'd been making a drink with his back towards you turns around.

"Carlos?" you say when you catch sight of his face, your smile morphing into a grin.

He wears a similar expression and rounds the counter to be closer. You spring against him with more enthusiasm than you had for Chris, and he returns the sentiment with a crushing grip.

"Oh my god, I didn't know you were gonna be here!" you say.

You hadn't seen Carlos in a while, longer than you hadn't seen Jill. He only came to these things when he was in the area, which wasn't all too often these days. Leon wasn't the closest with him either, but you always thought he was so fun. He was outgoing and funny, charismatic with the perfect level of charm. Plus, it didn't hurt that he looked like a god. To put it in simple terms, you had a little crush on him. Nothing too serious but definitely enough to trigger involuntary butterflies in your stomach when you saw him.

"I think Leon wanted it to be a surprise," he says with a little smirk.

You glance at your boyfriend. He nods at you with a knowing look, still watching you in the other man's arms.

Even without words you know what it means. While your touchy behavior would have been an absolute no with any of your past partners, Leon didn't share that same possessive outlook on the matter. He enjoyed watching you be all over others only to be the one that got to take you home. He liked when his friends like Chris or Carlos lusted over you, trying to cop a feel during a hug or speaking as if you're available for the taking. It just prodded at some primal part of his brain that he didn't have control over. None of it ever upsets him. He doesn't get jealous, he gets horny.

That aspect of his personality was why Carlos's appearance was a surprise for you. Tonight after the party, you and your boyfriend had already made plans with Chris, but obviously now, Carlos was going to be involved too, and that was more than ok with you.

You press your cheek to his chest and tighten your arms that are already wrapped around him.

"You look so good. You totally need to visit more often," you say to the bulky man against you.

He chuckles, giving you another small squeeze in return. "For you, I would," he teases, his hand grazing over your ass as he lets you go.

A giggle trickles from your lips, and you follow him back around the counter to the main part of the kitchen. From here, you get a good look at his body. He's muscular as ever, his tight white shirt only accentuating that mass. In your excitement, you hadn't noticed his costume which was similar to yours. White fabric with red dye flicked across it. Only he had some face make up too. You guessed a zombie or something in that vein.

He catches your stare. "You really missed me, huh?" he asks teasingly.

"Of course I did," you say, "Now are you gonna pour me a drink, or do I have to do it myself?"

He laughs and grabs a few nearby bottles, pouring a mix into a black cup for you. Passing it into your hands, he watches you take the first drink.

Things would only get better from there.

Over the next few hours, you get yourself buzzed. You gulp down each drink you're handed with joy. The smile gracing your features grows hazy, your eyes become cloudy and your voice gets extra giggly.

Suddenly, you're super touchy. Your hand lands on the forearm of whoever you're speaking too. Sometimes it trails up a bit, teasing the bicep of the person. You bite your lip more and nod emphatically at points that probably don't deserve it. Leon keeps an eye on you, but so do Carlos and Chris.

After a while, you migrate over to the open area closer to the speakers. You dance to the blaring music, your body bobbing around to the pulsating beats. Even though Leon had never been one for dancing, he holds your hips and grinds up against you from behind. You feel his breaths on your neck and the tip of his nose brushing your jawline.

The song switches over to something with more guitar rather than synth, and a firm set of fingers wraps around your wrist. The mysterious force tugs you to them, but becomes a lot less confusing when you look up and see Carlos smiling down at you.

"Mind if I cut in for a second, Kennedy?" he asks.

Like he's supposed to, Leon stares him down before tersely shaking his head. This was all part of the game of course. Everyone had to play their part to earn the high score with you.

You giggle and lean into him, your head resting against the plush muscles in his chest. He starts swaying the two of you to the music. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Leon move to the wall where Chris is standing. Carlos keeps you focused though, grabbing your chin and turning you back towards him.

He guides your movements. His hips roll against yours in deep motions. One of his muscular arms is wrapped around your back while the other sits in the position to hold your ass. Both feel so good, like live wires resting against your skin.

You dance with him. Your arms rise up and drape around his neck. You follow his movements, letting him take you through the sequence with ease. it makes your head spin. Not only the thrill of being with someone else, but the feeling of your boyfriend watching on.

All the excitement swirling with the liquor leaves you feeling kind of dizzy as the song ends. You stumble back from Carlos. He reaches for you, trying to make sure you stay up right and don't go crashing down on your ass in front of everyone. That isn't part of the plan.

"'m fine," you say, "Just gotta go to the bathroom real quick."

Waltzing away, you snake around the furniture without any grace and make your way to the hall that leads to the rest of Billy and Rebecca's home. You find the door to the bathroom easily, but opening it doesn't come with the same lack of difficulty.

Before you can process what's happening, someone is right behind you. Your hand rests on the cool knob. A little shudder goes through you at the feeling of the weight against your back.

"Are you sure you're ok, princess? You look a little wobbly," rasps Carlos directly into your ear.

"I'm fine," you say again, this time with a little more whine in your voice.

"I don't know... you look like you're barely standing on your own," he murmurs in your ear, "I think your boyfriend would want me to look after you."

His hands slide around on your waist. They coast up over your ribs to cup your breasts through your dress. You pant at the touch, your skin breaking out into chills.

"No... I don't, 'm fine. I'll be right back..." you say. Your voice sounds airy and distant. The movement of your hands match as they fruitlessly try to push his hands down.

He chuckles, the deep timbre of his voice rumbling beside your head. Pulling you backwards, his back lands against the wall and your body presses into him. His arms close around you in a tighter circle.

"Cute girl like you... I just don't think you should be left alone," he teases.

You whimper and squirm your hips, pushing them back against his pelvis. He lets out a soft groan at the sensation and keeps you right there.

"Look at you, just asking for someone to take advantage," he whispers.

You're about to turn your head to look up at him, but before you can, a new set of fingers nudges your chin upward in their owner's direction. Chris stares into your eyes, smirking at how helpless you look.

"He's right, sweetheart," he chides, "You're lucky you have us watching out for you."

His voice is husky as he leans closer. You can feel his breath fanning over your face.

"The way you were prancing around out there, showing yourself off in your little dress... anyone could've followed you back here. And who could blame them? Who wouldn't want a taste?" he continues.

His fingers skim your thighs and ghost over the space below the white hem. They toy with the fabric, teasing the idea that they'll peel it upwards to reveal the lacy panties you wear underneath.

Another pathetic noise trickles from your lips because you want him to. God, you want him to. You'd let them both ravish you right there in the middle of the hall. One holding you in his strong arms while the other pumped his dick in and out of your slick cunt.

Carlos noses at your jaw. His lips graze over your pulse point while his hands grope your breasts with more intent. There would be no mistaking his touches as accidental now. He grabs at them through your dress, pinching at your hardening nipples over the barrier.

You rock your ass back against him again. "Guys... we can't..." you babble as heat floods your body.

"Why not, princess?" Chris asks. He presses his front against your thigh, letting you feel his swelling bulge.

Your legs squirm and drift together. You try to squeeze your thighs for some friction, but he knocks them back apart with one of his knees.

"Leon... I'm with Leon," you breathe, doe eyes looking up at him with all the desire in the world.

"Oh, Leon, huh?" Carlos croons, "Would Leon have a problem with the way you’re rubbing up on me? With the way your pussy is dripping for Chris."

You whine and bite your lip before speaking. "It's not," you whimper.

"It is, baby," he says. One of his hands starts to slither South. "You're telling me that if I slipped my fingers under your dress and into those pretty panties, that I wouldn't feel you completely soaked for us? Is that what you're saying?"

Before you can defend yourself further, someone clears their throat from the end of the hall.

All of your heads snap in that direction to find Leon standing there, stiff as a board. He has his arms crossed; though, almost immediately they shift to rest on his hips. He looks like a disapproving parent staring at the three of you with disapproval all over his features.

Still, his harsh expression doesn't conceal the outline of his stiff cock in his pants.

"I don't think that's appropriate, guys," he says, "Feeling up on my girlfriend while she's telling you she has me?"

"It's not like that, Leon. We're watching out for her. Making sure she doesn't get into trouble. We're doing you a favor," Carlos grins. His hands drop from your breasts to your waist, but he makes sure to give the area a squeeze to let you know he's not done.

"Mhm. You know how she gets when she's been drinking," Chris says to him.

"I mean look. She may be saying no, but her body was just about begging for us," Carlos adds.

Your boyfriend hums in acknowledgement and watches with the same unyielding eyes. "Still don't think this is the place to deal with it," he says.

They both huff out laughs. "Probably not," Chris agrees.

"Some privacy would be best," Carlos continues.

You stand there, trying not to squirm as they talk like you're not even there. None of them look at you nor directly address you. The conversation is between them, deciding your fate. You just wait to be handed your sentence.

"Maybe we should head back to our place. Make sure the booze didn't get to her too much," Leon proposes, as if it was entirely his idea he thought of in the moment.

"Sounds good to me," Carlos says, patting your hip before boosting you forward.

"Same here," Chris grins.

You stumble over to your boyfriend who takes you under his arm. He looks down at you as if he's disappointed, though you can see the desire in his eyes. The two of you snake back through the hall and toward the front door.

"Were they bothering you, sweetheart?" he asks like he's truly concerned.

"Mhm," you hum and nod against his chest.

Your pair keeps walking, waving at Rebecca and Billy and giving them brief thank you's before walking back outside into the brisk October air.

Like you planned Chris and Carlos wait a little before following your path. None of you wanted to make it too obvious what you had planned for the rest of the night.

Each of you makes it back to your and Leon's house in record time it seems. He drives you and himself while the other two trail on their own. They enter through your front door only a few minutes after you and your boyfriend settle on the couch.

After that feels like a blur. There's hands all over you. They pass you around from one lap to the other. Your clothes fall to the floor piece by piece until you're left bare. They talk but rarely to you. The voices and touches all swirl together in one big mess until the three of you land in a collective position.

Leon looms above you, his piercing eyes locked onto your face. His hips roll against your center. He pumps his cock deep between your soaked velvety walls with each precise thrust. His hands cradle the back of your thighs, keeping them spread apart so that you can't shut him out. He grins down at you.

"You might think it's too much, baby, but she clearly doesn't," he teases, "So, so wet."

"I'm not even in your pussy, and I can feel that. Such a messy girl," the voice behind you says.

Chris sits below you. His warm bulky thighs support the parts of you Leon's hands can't. Your back rests against his chest while his strong hands play with your nipples. His dick is buried snug inside your ass. He's not moving, thank god. The stretch is enough to nearly reduce you to tears.

"She's messy up top too," the man above you adds with a grin, his thumb swiping away some spit that had dribbled from the corner of your mouth.

Carlos had your head between his palms. He kept a firm grip on you as leverage to rock his hips, sliding his length into the plush wetness of your throat. Deep groans and sighs leak from his mouth as his head falls back.

You whine around the girth of his shaft, but you can't squirm. There's so much going on. Even though you're in a relatively simple position, it feels as though you're tangled up with the three men surrounding you.

"No backing out now, baby. This is what you wanted," Leon taunts as he thrusts.

"Such a little slut. Your boyfriend isn't enough for you, huh?" Chris teases, nipping at the shell of your ear.

You whine louder around Carlos as he fucks your face, but he takes no mercy. He doesn't slide out to let you defend yourself. He slides as deep as he can, nestling your nose against the thick dark hair that curls above the base of his cock.

"Sounds like a yeah to me," he chuckles.

A soft gagging noise echoes from your throat and your eyes water. He holds his position for a few seconds longer before pulling back to give you a few moments to breathe. You gasp in a few breaths. Your head spins with the return of sufficient oxygen. But you still feel hazy from the two cocks inside you, one unmoving and keeping you constantly full, the other rocking back and forth, striking every little spot inside you.

"Leon," you cry. Your head falls back on Chris's shoulder, "Too much."

He smirks at your repeated protest and keeps going. "Nope. You can handle it, babydoll. You wanted to play with other guys, so I'm letting you."

Chris's fingers rub at your clit, causing you to tighten up around Leon. He hisses from above, but it only makes him move faster. The harder thrusts rock you on Chris's length. He grunts from the added stimulation and keeps the rough pads of his digits twirling around your sensitive little nub.

"That's right, sweetheart. Just relax and take it," he mutters in your ear.

Carlos strokes your cheek while jerking his cock right in front of your face. You watch as precum pearls at the tip, dripping from the slit in sticky beads.

"Fuck... you're pretty, so fucking cute," he mumbles from above you.

You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. The urge to squirm becomes more pronounced. Your clit throbs under Chris's tender fingers while your walls clamp down on your boyfriend.

"Wanna cum," you whimper desperately.

"What happened to too much? Thought you said no more?" Carlos mocks.

"Don't care. Just wanna cum now," you cry. Your lip juts out into a quivering pout as you feel the pleasure growing more intense and spreading from between your legs all throughout your body. Tears dew at your waterline, making your lashes shimmer.

"Again? So greedy," Chris tuts from behind.

But in front, Leon nods with self-satisfaction all across his face. "You can cum, angel. Go ahead. Just know it won't be the last one."

You whine at the idea. You wanted release so bad, but you were already so overstimulated. It's not like you had any control over it though. You were climbing to the peak fast, and there was no way of going back down. Watching Carlos stroke himself to the sight of you getting your insides rearranged had your tummy fluttering with the urge to let go.

You try to hold it. Try to prolong it a bit more so that they're closer and cum with you. But at a certain point, you can't hold back anymore. Your back arches off of Chris's chest, and your whines fill the air. You shudder in his arms, quivering between him and Leon. Release crashes over you, wave after wave. It feels like the euphoria will never end when Leon finally groans and bursts inside you.

His cum floods your insides, filling you up just how you need it. He tilts his head back and sighs as the feeling seeps into him. As you're feeling the added effects from his high, Carlos reaches his. He moans nice and loud before painting your face with white streaks. The warm sticky liquid lands on you in patternless blotches.

You whimper but not in protest. It was what you wanted. The only thing that would make it better is Chris filling up your other hole too, but he stays hard and still, not giving in just yet.

Your boyfriend comes to a halt with his thrusts and slowly pulls out. Some of his cum leaks out as his length leaves your cunt. You whine at the empty feeling.

"Hush," he murmurs as he steps back. He catches his breath from a distance, but he knows none of you are done. Even with him and Carlos temporarily spent, they'd get it back up soon enough. "So needy. You still got one of us inside you, and you're complaining."

"Easy thing to do is to just give her what she wants again," Carlos says, "You and I could switch since Redfield seems comfortable."

Your boyfriend nods, looking between you and the other man.

"Sound good, baby?" he asks as if you actually get a say, "Carlos will put another load in your pussy, and I'll let you actually swallow mine this time around."

Even though your cunt aches with all the pleasure it's endured and your jaw feels sore from taking a dick in your mouth for the last however long... you nod. Despite what you said, you hadn't had enough. You really didn't know if you ever would.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy imagine #chris redfield x reader #chris redfield smut #chris redfield imagine #carlos oliveira x reader #carlos oliveira smut #carlos oliveira x you #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #resident evil imagines #ch: leon kennedy 💌#ch: chris redfield 💌#ch: carlos oliveira 💌

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scorpioriesling · 1 month ago

Note

Hii could I request some more ridoc smut? Literally anything I'm just feral for our silly lil man

Denial Is A River

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Ridoc x reader

Warning(s): smut, 18+, mdni

Summary: You'd think after so long, your ex wouldn't still be on your mind. After all, he never took anything seriously -- why should you? It would seem like going out for a night of fun with your best friend is exactly what you needed.

SR’s Note: Um... girly, aren't we all feral for this man, HAHA. I saw this request, sat my ass down, and immediately started writing. <3 Any excuse for Ridoc smut is a good excuse, right?

Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @velarisdusk (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

"Great," you mutter, rolling your eyes and looking away. Sloane turns, searching over her shoulder for whatever could've caused you such distress. Not finding the source, she turns back to you wearing a confused expression on her face.

"What-"

"Not what; who." You cut her off. She goes to turn again, but you grasp her bicep.

"Don't -- he was just looking over here." You shudder, bringing the plastic cup to your lips. When you lower it, draining the sweet mixture, Sloane is looking to you with a leveled stare.

"I don't even need to see who just got here. I think I already know." You swallow, the sweet drink tingling as it runs down your throat. She raises an eyebrow. "Ridoc?"

You shake your head. "Don't. Even say his name."

Now it's your best friend's turn to roll her eyes.

"Y/N, it's been six months. Don't tell me you're still letting him effect you-"

"He. Affects. Nothing." You bite out, lifting your cup again before remembering it was empty. Sloane sighs.

"Y/N... if you still have feelings for him, maybe you should-"

"Another drink?" You switch the subject, the faux-cheerful smile plastered on your face. You've been friends with Sloane long enough now that she doesn't take the bait; but, she's also learned when to "drop it" with you.

"I'm dry," she agrees, peering toward the crowded bar. "Let's migrate?"

You nod in agreement, following your blonde friend to the bar. After a while of pushing through people, trying to secure any inch of bar space; your hands finally meet the cool metal of the countertop.

"What'll ya have?" The cute, strawberry-blonde bartender asks. Sloane immediately straightens; and you smirk.

"Hmm... can you make me something with Fireball?" You ask, and he raises his eyebrows.

"I'm sure I can; and what for you?" His gaze locks on Sloane, and she coughs.

"Um... I, uh..." You giggle at your friend. She's never so... speechless.

"She'll have whatever your favorite is." You speak up, and he chuckles. Sloane glares daggers into the side of your head, but you only turn to her with a wink.

"I'd be happy to make it; been needin' another one myself tonight," he smiles softly to your friend before turning to start working on the drinks. Sloane folds her arms next to you, and you shrug.

"What? I'm just helping you out," you reason with her. She smirks, only looking past your shoulder for a second before pretending to be busy picking at her clothes.

"Fireball, huh? I never knew you to order something so... spicy."

You lock your jaw, whirling around to find Ridoc standing beside you. He smirks down at you, his tall frame shielding many of the club's overhead lazer lights as you look up at him.

"Pfft," you tut, crossing your arms as you raise an eyebrow. "You wouldn't know anything about... spice."

He chuckles, running a hand through his luscious, shoulder-length black locks. Your eyes immediately catch on the black hair tie around his wrist; a new kind of flame igniting inside of you.

"Ahh, Y/N." He shakes his head slowly, before reaching over and tapping Sloane on her opposite shoulder. "I'm just surprised this one still tolerates your attitude."

Sloane turns, finding no one before turning over the other shoulder to face the two of you. She only offers him an eyeroll.

"Ridoc. Hi to you too."

He chuckles, staring past you to your best friend. You scoff, smacking his shoulder.

"Staring problem?"

He looks at you again, raising his hands in surrender.

"Hey! I'm just trying to keep this little interaction here friendly."

You shake your head, reaching out to snap the thin rubber band against his wrist.

"Oh, yeah. I can see you've been keeping things very friendly." You glare, and he rolls his eyes. Sloane taps your shoulder, motioning to the drinks that had been set down on the counter before you. You turn to reach for yours, eyeing the bartender as he toasts Sloane.

Behind you, the unmistakable voices of Ridoc's friends ring out, and you internally cringe. You'd been close to his posse before the two of you broke up, and now... things were just, awkward.

Bringing your own glass to your lips, you shiver as he leans in behind you, his warm breath sending a chill down your spine.

"Bet you won't take it all without choking," he chuckles, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "At least, once." He steps back, and you glare at him once more before tipping your glass all the way back, ignoring the searing burn of the whiskey as you gulp it down. He only stares with intrigue as you turn your back to him, slamming the glass down on the bar.

The sound pulls the bartender out of his trance, his gaze toward Sloane snapping to the empty glass.

"Anything else for ya? Maybe for your boyfriend?"

Sloane snorts, covering it up with a cough before turning to you and shaking her head. You stare at the bartender, scoffing.

"Oh yeah. Give him something, reeeeal dry." You turn, throwing one more glance over your shoulder.

"And he's not. My boyfriend."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

You'd spent almost two more hours, mingling and visiting the bar with Sloane before you'd realized how intoxicated you'd become. After three more drinks, you'd been feeling quite weightless -- almost forgetting your ex that somehow, always appeared in the corner of your vision.

Almost.

"I think I'm gonna see when Brett gets off tonight," Sloane slurs, her hands bracing against your forearms as the two of you stand in the middle of the dancefloor.

You chuckle. "Oh? So you're on a first-name basis, now?" You wiggleyour eyebrows at her. She laughs, nudging you with her elbow before leaning close so you can hear over the thumping bass.

"Hopefully we'll be past the first-name basis after tonight," she giggles, and your jaw drops. She grasps your shoulders, shouting right into your ear.

"And you might be too, if you do something about that second year staring at you!" She winks, pushing off of you to retreat to the bar. You look around confused, searching for whoever she was talking about.

You're on your third look-around when a warm hand slides along your waist, and you turn. The lights in the room blur, but the male standing beside you is in clear view.

Clearly... beautiful, that is.

"Hey," he shouts, flashing a bright smile. Your eyebrows raise, the alcohol in your system tampering any shyness you might have had.

"Hey," you say back, and he leans in closer. The black, short sleeve fits him to a tee -- every muscle defined along his tattooed arms. His scent of wood and salt hits you, and you breathe it in.

Delicious.

"I'm Matt," he says, his eyes gazing right down into yours. You smile up at him.

"I'm Y/N," you say, and he takes your hand in his, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. You're not sure if it's the alcohol or lack of nerves, but a faint blush spreads across your cheeks.

"Y/N," he repeats looking to you again. "First year?"

You nod, and he grins proudly.

"I'm in my second," he says. Your brows raise an inch; but, you're not intimidated. After all, you'd been with a second year before.

The sinking feeling in your stomach appears as Matt keeps talking. Would he know Ridoc? Gods, he probably did. You frown. Ugh, why did he always have to ruin everything?

Matt pauses, chuckling as he stares at you again.

"You alright?"

You shake your head, clearing your thoughts. Why were you even thinking about him right now?

"I'm... fine," you say, sucking in a breath as you feel both of Matt's hands softly holding your hips. He chuckles, his face mere inches from yours. Your head spins, the lights, the Charli XCX song playing in the back, this delectable man's lips about to touch yours-

"Hey man, what the fuck?"

Your eyes widen as Matt is quite literally ripped off you, the collar of his shirt rumpled in Ridoc's grip. He raises his hands in surrender.

"Look, man, I'm sorry! I didn't know-"

"Of course you fucking didn't," Ridoc growls, his usually playful tone absent. You stare in shock -- Ridoc was never this serious. In fact, that's what drove the two of you to break up in the first place.

"She's. Unavailable." He grinds out, and Matt huffs a laugh.

"Aight! Sorry, bro, she wasn't acting like it," Ridoc lowers him, releasing the hold on his shirt before glaring at him once more.

"I'd suggest you get goin', bro." '

That's all it takes before Matt is scurrying off into the sea of people. Ridoc turns, the anger still written all over his face. His brows only sinch together more when he takes in the anger on yours.

"What the fuck was that?" You shout, every ounce of pent up frustration bubbling over the surface. He rolls his eyes, stepping closer to you.

"That guy's a tool, Y/N," he says, his words running together a bit. Guess he needed to down a few to get though this night, too.

"You wouldn't know that though, because-"

"Because, what?" You throw your arms up in fury. "Because I'm 'only a first year'? Who are you to tell me who I can and can't-"

His hands reach out, grapping onto your forearms. He pulls you to his chest, bending at the waist to speak directly in front of your face.

"He shouldn't get to touch you." He says lowly, his eyes staring into yours. Your cheeks heat, the feeling of his hands on you mixed with the sweet musk of his cologne; it felt like how it used to.

"Nobody should."

You stare up at him with confusion, your only response a defensive one you'd learned to use so well around him.

"You're touching me right now," you sneer. "Doesn't look like you have any problem with that."

He chews on his bottom lip, his dark brows hooding his desired stare as he continues to draw you closer.

"You're right. I don't have a problem with it."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

“Oh FUCK yes… yes,”

It hadn’t taken much convincing to get you to leave the club with him. In fact, you practically jumped at the chance to leave — but, you let Ridoc think he “dragged” you out of there.

Truth be told, you were a bit giddy to feel his comforter beneath your back again.

“Mhm, you like that?” He taunts, pumping his fingers in and out.

You huff a laugh, another sarcastic response forming in your mind.

"I bet Matt could've done better." You toss him a wicked grin, and his brows furrow. He suddenly yanks his fingers out, immediately pulling you off the bed, yanking your dress up over your head before shoving you onto the floor.

Your eyes widen as your knees hit the hardwood, mouth practically salivating as he undoes his jeans quickly, pulling his thick cock out of his boxers. He slides his hand up and down it a few times, the other hand tangling in your hair as he yanks you closer.

"Always such a foul mouth, you've got," he tuts, and you drop your jaw. He slaps the head of his cock against your awaiting tongue twice, before shoving himself down your throat.

"This will teach you to be nicer," he muses. You gag, his thick length filling your throat even as he pulls out and pushes it right back in. He keeps assaulting your throat, fucking your mouth like you're his own personal plaything.

Not that you'd oblige.

"Good girl... mmm," he groans, thrusting in a few more times before pulling your mouth flesh with his pelvis.

“Want you to fuckin’ gag on my dick, baby,” You cough, your throat raw as the faint black hairs near his pubic bone tickle your nose.

He yanks your mouth off of him, grabbing your arms and hauling you to your feet once more. The relief is only momentary before his rough hands push you flush against his bed, bent at the waist over the edge of his bed.

Grabbing both of your wrists, he grips both of your hands behind your back, using one of his hands to slide his wet and ready cock against your sopping cunt. He leans down, kissing just below your ear before uttering a single sentence.

"No man. Will ever. Get to do this with you."

You suck in a breath, the tip of his dick pushing into your cunt.

"Besides me."

He wastes no time, shoving his entire length in, drawing a sharp cry from you.

Sliding out, and thrusting back in -- he watches in a trance as your ass bounces against his pelvis with each slam of his hips against yours. His grip on your wrists loosen, one hand opting to tangle in your hair once more.

"You're. Mine." He pants, drawing you up to meet his chest, flush with your back as he continues pounding mercilessly into you. "You belong to no one else."

His words, the air in the room, the feel of him -- it's all too much. The tidal wave building inside you threatens to wash over the edge, and your breath comes out in short gasps.

"Oh... f-fuck, Ridoc," the new angle plunges his length deeper into you, his tip rubbing the most sensitive spot inside of you. His other arm wraps around your waist as he speaks again.

"Say it,"

You moan as his balls slap against your clit, the wave inside almost too much to contain.

"I..."

"Tell me who's pussy this is." He gasps, his thrusts growing sloppy. You let out a cry of pleasure, your eyes squeezing shut as his grip tightens in your hair.

"Y-yours," you gasp. "Oh fuck, Ridoc it's all yours."

The title wave breaks free, your walls clenching around his huge dick as he gives you a few more thrusts. He cums not too long after, loosing himself in the way you feel wrapped around him again. He groans, low and deep as he releases his seed deep in your pussy -- another reminder that you're his, and only his.

You breathe deep, lying against his bed again when he finally releases you. He slips out of you, making quick work of cleaning himself off. You steady your breathing, making to stand and grab your dress from the floor.

Ridoc slides his boxers back on, pulling back the blankets on his bed and instead guiding you to lie down underneath them.

"Ridoc, I-"

He shushes you, adjusting the pillow beneath your head before sliding in behind you. Your heart swells as he presses a kiss to your cheek, pulling you flush against him as his arms wrap around you. You snuggle in, the warmth comforting as you work to wrangle your racing thoughts.

"We can talk tomorrow morning."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

#fourth wing imagine #fourth wing smut #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing #iron flame imagine #iron flame #the empyrean #onyx storm #empyrean series #ridoc smut #ridoc x reader #ridoc fourth wing #ridoc gamlyn

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xayasmrxsoftlyx · 6 months ago

Text

Imagine a Butterfly Alien

Imagine...

you're a human whose been farming and growing plants for as long as you could walk. You like the birds, the bees, the butterflies, even all the bugs that others thought were gross and useless...worthless, yet you've found appreciation of them.

you're also not ignorant to the fact that aliens have made their presence and cultures known to your world for a little while now. You've yet to meet any in your tiny farming village, but you're sure they can't be too different from any other humanoids you've met before. To say you're a black sheep to your village in those statements would be a massive understatement.

That's not to say you're surrounded by bigoted, closeminded individuals- on the contrary, your little village is eager anticipating meeting these new friends no matter what variety they are. So excited and willing to accommodate.

So, you're more than a little surprised when one day you hear a loud crash on your farm and go running over to investigate only to see a massive Butterfly Alien having torn his wing and crash landed your on your front lawn. Right near your butterfly bush, you reflect later. In the moment, you're sheepish to admit, you're spending the time panicking and crying.

At first, the Butterfly Alien is dazed and equally confused, interesting distended eyes seemingly peering around. You're sat next to him, face flushed and teary eyes, voice high pitched and fast paced; he's in pain and immediately notices tear within the upper quarter of his right wing. You can only assume he starts to suffer shock as he begins to violently tremble. At this point, you're more than upset at yourself for not going to at least one Culture seminar your village held to ease the welcome and culture shock of/for your future visitors.

You're frantic and nearly as trembly as the Butterfly Man you attempt to touch Him, but you flutter your hands around (adorably) unsure if you'd stress or hurt Him further. Tears finally begin to fall as the anxiety of it crests- the Alien flutters His wings quickly, almost desperately, as if gauging them, testing their abilities. You gasp loudly as the tear rips the top quarter of His wing off right in front of your eyes. You begin to hyperventilate as the Man begins to tremor again, whole body shaking like a leaf caught in the wind.

You can't quite see what happens next, eyes blurring your vision with thick tears causing you to wipe at them with the back of your hand. It's as you're doing that when the Butterfly Man moves. It's quicker than you imagine He could move before He's up; and one second later He's flying again.

He doesn't even appear to turn back as he glides up into the sky, as if He'd never crashed at all. You're left there blubbering, blurring vision flicking between the sky and the dinner plate sized wing remnant left in your yard.

You can't understand why, but when the breeze starts to pick up, you snatch the piece of his wing with your shaky hands and hurry inside feeling as if you'd seen a ghost. Unsure where to go with it or what to do with it, you find the biggest frame that you had that could fit it and frame it. It's the only way you can think of no harm coming to it further. It's beautiful, too, soft but vibrant colors popping against the whites of your wall as you hold it up in the sun.

You look into attending some of your village's culture seminars a few hours later after your heart stopped racing and mind spinning with everything that had happened.

Imagine as you're walking into town to see when the next Culture seminar is and you're hearing from whispered shadows as you're walking into town "did you see?" "did you hear?!" "They finally came!" "We need to throw a Welcome Festival!" "I wanna make them food to welcome them!" "I-I heard they're all...single..."

You fluster again when you reach the center of your village square, there's several insectoid aliens that have migrated to your village- drawn by its rich agriculture and farming lifestyles. There's only one Butterfly Alien, though, it's here, and only here, finally here that you get a good look at the person who literally crashed into you life.

He's not just beautiful, all colorful wings and lean muscles and graceful movements, He's handsome, too. He's got these masculine humanoid traits that add a rugged edge to His beauty- He's got a distinct jawline and defined cheekbones and whilst nothing about Him is particularly sharp or overtly (humanly) masculine, there's a defined demeanor to Him that pulls in favor of His handsomeness. The tear in His wing helps strongly to add that ruggedness.

It's hard to tell with eyes like his if you've met his gaze but with his posture shift and almost sheepish expression coming over him you feel as if you may have. You flush, flustered by his attention even so indirectly. The head of your village, MeeMaw, eagerly invites the couple of them into her space and once they're out of sight the whispers turn to full on chatter.

You huff, trying to push past how out of whack everything's become in one day and now you suppose you have a dual purpose for lingering by MeeMaw's quarters. You'll definitely need those Culture Seminars after today, and you suppose while you're at it....You could try and give the Butterfly Man His wing back to Him....You don't know if He needs it, but at the very least you'd have an excuse to talk to Him. You just hope you don't get shy on Him...you certainly didn't make the "best" first impression

(Little do you know, He thought it was so cute. So panicked over Him without knowing Him. So worried over Him without knowing He'd been there to peep on you after seeing just how cute you were tending to your farm

(Imagine He's just so grateful and thinks you're the cutest, sweetest little thing to save His wing for Him. Were you going to go looking for Him like some sweet and brave Knight in shining armor? How adorable!

(So sweet, little human, so cute! Gosh, you must be His! You must be made for Him! Why else would you have been so scared for him? You wouldn't save just anyone's amputated limb, would you? You must...love Him!

(You have no idea, either, until much later anyway, just how rare He is. Insectoid Aliens aren't the most intergalactically social so they're pretty rare off their own planets- Butterfly Aliens especially so, even more so. Mostly due to the fragility of their wings and inability to regrow. If someone wanted, it would be so easy to destroy or even rip His wings from Him, yet you wept over Him. Many would steal Him away, cage Him forever; yet you let Him free. Let Him keep His freedom. You're truly one of a kind. Just as He is.

(That must mean He's right- you are made for each other. He's glad you think He's handsome, He'd fight you for your love even if you were to think He isn't.

#yandere oc #yandere #butterfly alien #alien oc #butterfly alien oc #fantasy setting #human x alien #yandere x reader #alien x reader #original character #original post #insectoid #monster lover #teratophillia #terato #monsterfucker

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heartshapedmisery · 6 months ago

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𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 | cooper adams

summary ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ in which cooper adams is your next-door neighbor you've always had doubts about, but once you stumble into his trap, you're caught in the dilemma of becoming his next victim. but who's to say you didn't mind being his prey? . . .

warnings ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ MINORS DNI ! ( 18+ | THIS FIC IS DARKER THAN MY NORMAL CONTENT, DNI IF YOU AREN'T COMFORTABLE!) | language, graphic smut, unprotected sex ( wrap it before u tap it y'all ), rough sex, bit of a blood kink?, knife kink, choking/suffocation, dacryphilia, m!receiving oral, daddy kink, breeding kink, hair pulling, degradation kink/name calling (whore), heavy age gap (reader is in early 20s and cooper is in mid 40s), let me know if i missed anything!

word count ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ 3.3k +

pairing ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ neighbor!cooper adams x fem!reader

author’s note ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ haven't seen trap yet but i'm still a slut for josh hartnett so do with that what you will :p i hope you enjoy! i had so much fun writing this, let me know what you think! :)

publishing date ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ august 21st, 2024 | © HEARTSHAPEDMISERY

When you first moved into your new house in Philadelphia, Cooper and Rachel Adams had been the first to welcome you into the neighborhood. They lived right next door, eager to get to know the new girl who had just moved into their subdivision.

You were fresh out of college and already swimming in debt (they honestly didn't know how you could even afford your house), so they had been kind enough to invite you over for dinner—which you happily accepted so you didn't have to spend any money on carry out. Plus, you figured getting to know new people would be nice so you didn't feel so alone in such a new place.

They had a nice home from what you could tell; it was warm and inviting as you walked through the living room, taking in the well lived-in space. You quickly learned they had a daughter, due to the family pictures scattered around the mantle above the fireplace, who had just gone off to summer camp the morning before. They spoke a lot about her at dinner. Well, Rachel did, her husband just nodded along to what she was saying as he quietly ate.

He didn't speak much; His eyes did most of his talking for him. God, his eyes. There was something about them that struck you so deeply, that you couldn't help but quickly look away every time you made eye contact with him. And he knew it too. He initially thought you were just shy, but after he caught your gaze lingering on his veiny hands and muscular forearms, he soon wondered if it was something else that made you react so heavily.

You couldn't deny that he was attractive. From his broad shoulders to his charming smile, he lit something ablaze deep in your gut that got harder and harder to ignore as the night went on.

After dinner, you migrated your way to the living room for a few drinks, continuing to listen to the story Rachel told about how her and Cooper met.

"Honey, could you get another bottle of wine from the cellar? This one's just about out," Mrs. Adams turned to her husband as she topped off her glass, rubbing his shoulder softly before he stood.

He quietly excused himself to the basement, leaving the two of you to retrieve another bottle. He returned moments later with an unopened bottle from 2007, which Mrs. Adams seemed elated about.

"Here, sweetheart. Let me get a corkscrew," he told her, setting the bottle on the coffee table and making his way towards the kitchen. Your eyes followed him for a moment, before falling to his feet to see the small red splotches his left shoe was leaving behind on the hardwood with each step.

Your eyes widened slightly, your mind jumping to conclusions to what that could possibly be. You carefully look at the basement door that he had left cracked open, a weird feeling suddenly washing over your senses.

"What is that on the bottom of your shoe?" Mrs. Adams asked the question you had been too afraid to, your eyes snapping to him as he came to a sudden halt and turned around.

"I dropped one by accident, I guess I stepped in some of it," he played stupid as he looked at the bottom of his shoe, grabbing a dish towel and wiping it clean.

For some reason, you didn't completely believe him.

"I didn't hear any glass shatter," you countered, meeting his gaze as it slowly turned cold.

"It was a case of box wine," he said condescendingly. "Probably better off spilled anyways, am I right?"

Rachel laughed in agreement, a smile cracking across his face once he realized he had her fooled. But he hadn't completely fooled you, your eyes narrowing before you let the whole thing go.

You didn't get up to leave until well after dark and were slightly buzzed, giving Rachel a hug and thanking her and Cooper both for inviting you into their home.

"Of course! We're so glad to have you in the neighborhood! The last guy who was at your place was a bit of a grump so it's refreshing to see a young and new face!" she told you sweetly, her husband still only nodding in agreement.

"Thank you again," you smiled, Cooper turning to open the front door for you. You waved back to Rachel one last time before making your way out the door. The sudden feeling of Cooper's hand on the middle of your back made your breath hitch in your throat, but you made sure to play it off with a smile.

"Have a good night, sweetheart," his tone was nice and friendly, but the way the nickname made you feel inside was the complete opposite. Surely, he meant nothing by it. His wife paid no mind to it, still smiling as you walked out.

So why did it make a sudden rush of heat pool in your lower abdomen?

"Goodnight," you said one final time before you heard the door close behind you, and you could finally release the uneven breath you had been holding.

You leisurely made your way back over to your house, drunk on the 3 glasses of wine you had and the smell of Cooper's cologne that still waivered around your nostrils.

As you got ready for bed, you wondered if you had just been overthinking everything. Was that really just wine on the bottom of his shoe? The thought ate away at you as you replayed the entire night through your head, yet all that was clear in your mind was his stone-cold gaze.

There was no life behind his eyes. No matter how hard he tried to hide it, no matter how happy he seemed. There was a darkness. A darkness that you could feel when he spoke to you. When he placed his hand on your back. You shuddered as you remembered it, a white-hot warmth spreading between your thighs. It alarmed you how unsettled you were by him, but you felt even more concerned with how much you liked it.

The following week was quiet.

Your house was belatedly furnished to your liking, the last of your boxes had arrived Thursday afternoon, and you were finally starting to feel comfortable in your new home by the time Saturday rolled around.

You decided to treat yourself to a day out, shopping around downtown until you felt like you were going to drop. When you got home, you decided it would be nice to return the favor of hospitality to your new neighbors by giving them a basket full of little things you had bought while you were out.

As you made your way over to their front porch, you noticed there was only one car parked in the driveway. Deep down, you hoped it was Rachel's since you weren't completely sure if you could handle talking to Mr. Adams alone.

Once you stood before the door, you raised you hand to knock, hesitating before doing so, only to find that the door was cracked open. Carefully, you opened the door enough to peek your head in and peer around. All the lights were off as if no one was home.

"Mrs. Adams? Mr. Adams?" you called out, hoping for a response so you didn't feel so creepy intruding on someone's home.

Nothing.

You walked in further, shutting the door behind you and slowly making your way through the house. Gently, you set the basket on the kitchen table, your eyes falling on the basement door.

You knew you shouldn't be snooping around like this, but you had to know what was behind that door. You needed to know you weren't crazy.

Your steps were light as you tiptoed across the hardwood, your hand gripping the doorknob and slowly turning it as anticipation coursed through your veins. You flicked on the lights to see a desolate staircase—seemingly normal enough.

You cautiously took the risk of walking down the steps, getting about halfway down before you could see the full basement. A sudden horror washed over your body as you took in the sight before you.

A large red stain sat in the middle of the concrete floor, the grungy discoloration making you realize a cheap case of box wine wouldn't make such a prominent stain. It was something else—something thicker.

The next thing that stood out was two chains drilled into the back wall with cuffs hooked to their ends, the mere sight making your stomach churn as you thought about what those were used for. Below them, sat an old mattress that had too many stains on it to count. Some of which were a deep red that matched the one on the floor, sending a chill down your spine.

"What do you think you're doing down here, sweetheart? "

Your entire body went rigid as you looked over your shoulder to see Cooper standing at the top of the steps. His eyes were dark as he watched you intently, a slight smile tugging at his lips as he watched you back up in fear when he began to descend the steps.

As he came into the light, a sudden buzz overcame your senses as you took in his edged appearance. He wore nothing but a white t-shirt that exposed his toned arms and a dark pair of jeans. He exhibited the same lifeless expression behind his unsettling smile, each step he took making you take one back until he had you pushed up against the wall.

"Answer me," he practically growled. His fist was in your hair before you could think twice, pulling your head back roughly to make you look him in the eye. He was so close you could smell his cologne, the same one that had you in a daze only a week prior. It made a low whine sound at the back of your throat as your watery eyes met his.

You knew this was all wrong, but you couldn't deny the fire that blazed through your stomach as you could feel his hot breath against your cheek, making it harder and harder to keep your morals.

"I wanted to do something nice for you," you croaked. Arousal swirled between your legs as his grip tightened on your hair, a grunt of frustration blowing past his lips.

"What with that gift basket you left upstairs? You're gonna have to do a lot more than that to win me over, baby."

You whined in fear, but that's what fueled your rapture. The terror that coursed through your body heightened the pleasure you were feeling as he manhandled you.

"I'll do whatever you want me to," you told him, your fingers moving to dance across his lower stomach and down his crotch, teasing him as you looked up at him with innocent eyes. You hesitated slightly before letting the next word tumble out of your mouth.

"Daddy."

The name seemed to flip a switch in his brain, his large hands grabbing you and throwing you down onto the mattress and beginning to undo his belt. The clinking noise of his buckle made a surge of excitement jolt through your chest, propping yourself up on your elbows as he got a good look at you.

You looked helpless below him as he pulled his belt from his pants, his eyes not leaving your as he unzipped his jeans.

"Get on your knees," he told you sharply, his tone low and graveled. You were quick to do as he said, sitting up to kneel on the mattress with your feet tucked underneath you.

A rush of arousal went straight to his lower half as he looked down on you, the power to corrupt you to no end eating away at his brain. It felt almost as good as a kill; the feeling of you putting your life in his hands, unaware of what he intended to do with it. Your obedience astounded him and he couldn't wait any longer to dip into you.

With one hand, he pulled himself from his boxers while the other cupped the back of your head, guiding you towards his already hard member.

"Open," he muttered sternly, his fingers raking through the hair at the nape of your neck as he eased his dick into your mouth, halting his movements once his tip reached the back of your throat. "Good girl, take it all for me."

Your lips closed around him, moaning as he began a steady pace of thrusting into your mouth. Both of his hands were tangled into your locks now, using them as leverage while he fucked your throat. Your palm grasped at his jean-clad thigh, your nails digging into the rough denim as he shoved his dick farther and farther. As much as you would allow.

"Fucking take it," he said through gritted teeth, harsh grunts ripping through his throat as your eyes began to water. You continued to look up at him, watching his face contort with pleasure while he used you like a fuckdoll, strings of saliva pooling out of the corners of your mouth.

You were practically soaked through your panties by the time he came down your throat with an aggressive tug on your hair, shoving you down so far on his cock that your nose brushed with the small tuft of hair along his pubic bone.

You pulled off of him with a gasp. Your chest heaved up and down as you tried to catch your breath and wipe away the streaks of mascara from your cheeks stained from tears. He couldn't get enough of how you were like putty in his hands, abiding by whatever he told you with such compliance.

"Good job, sweetheart,' he said in a softer manner. "Might not have to kill you after all."

Your stomach felt like it had caved in at his words, your eyes widening as he tugged the t-shirt over his head. But the threat still made your core throb, your thighs clenching together in response.

"Take your clothes off," he demanded, watching you carefully as you slowly unbuttoned your shirt. Your fingers trembled as you tugged your shorts down your legs, leaving you in nothing but your undergarments as he finally crouched down to your level.

You lay back on the dirty mattress, watching his hand as it reached into his back pocket to reveal a large pocket knife. It flipped open, glinting sharply in the light as he brought the blade to the supple skin of your neck. The metal was cool against your warm skin, making a shiver run down your spine.

His eyes danced across your lustful expression, his heart pounding from the thrill that surged through his body. He had you right where he wanted you, the blade slowly running down your chest before stopping at your sternum and hooking under the band of your bra.

You couldn't take your eyes away from him, eager to see what he would do next. With one swift movement, he ripped the knife right through the lacy fabric, tearing your bra at the front to reveal your chest. You watched his eyes dilate at the sight of your breasts, a low groan falling from his lips.

The blade trailed down your stomach, Cooper dragging the sharp point against your skin as it moved lower to your hips. His eyes were dark as he did the same with your panties as he did your bra, cutting them off of you with such aggression that you couldn't help but moan.

"Please, fuck me," you gasped, impatience taking over you as Cooper took in your naked appearance. You didn't realize he had nicked you in the process of removing your underwear, the crimson blood running down your hip thickly.

"You want me to fuck you?" he taunted, expressionless. His thumb smeared the blood around on your smooth skin, satisfied with the way it stained you. His large hand then gripped the back of your knee, pulling you closer to him and making you slide all the way down onto your back with your thighs on either side of his hips.

You only whined, needy for his touch. You didn't care how pathetic you seemed.

"I'll fuck you," he said with an aggravated tone. He quickly gripped your hips and flipped you over onto your stomach so you were trapped face down between his large body and the mattress. "I'll fuck you like the whore you are and you're gonna take it like a good girl, understand?"

His hand was in your hair once more, pulling your head back for you to look at him.

"Yes!" you sobbed, tears falling from your eyes as you ground your ass back against his crotch to get some sort of friction, which only angered him further. He shoved your head back down against the mattress, his free hand grasping his dick to line himself up with your entrance before shoving himself into you without warning.

"Yes, what?" he pried, his lips right at your ear as he pinned your body down with his.

"Yes, Daddy! I'll be your good girl I promise!" you cried, a raspy moan ripping from your throat once he finally thrust into you again, his hips beginning a slow but hard rhythm of fucking you. You reeled with pleasure, ecstatic with the feeling of his thick cock pounding your slick cunt over and over again.

With each brush of his tip against your cervix you thought you were done for, your thighs beginning to tremble as his pace quickened.

"That's it," he groaned, pulling you up from your vulnerable position by your hair, your back tight against his toned chest. "Taking all of me so good."

His arm snaked around your neck, locking your head in the crook of his elbow and tightening it. Your hands grasped at his forearm, your nails digging into his skin as he took the air right out of your lungs with each flex of his muscle.

"P-Please," you gasped, becoming scared as your mind went fuzzy and your vision blurred. He still continued his hard thrusts but ultimately loosened his grip on you after a few moments of torture.

You tiredly flopped back down to the mattress once he let go of you, his hands gripping your hips to gain more leverage as his thrusts became quicker and more sporadic. You could tell he was getting close to his release, but still had a few more tricks up his sleeve.

"You're not giving up on me yet, are you, baby?" he rasped, stilling his movements to flip you over onto your back one final time, before regaining his harsh pace.

You shook your head in response as you were unable to form coherent words—only disgruntled moans and pants that were music to his ears.

His rough hands gripped your leg and threw it over his shoulder to pound into you at a deeper angle, which had the coil in your stomach unraveling by the second. You were nearly there as well, your core clenching around him desperately. His hands moved to their rightful spot on your neck, restricting your airflow once again.

"Fuck me, Daddy," you moaned, making intense eye contact with him as he continued to drill into you. "Fuck me full of your cum!"

Your words made him shudder, his hips stuttering as he ultimately tipped over the edge of pleasure and came deep inside of you.

You let yourself succumb to your orgasm at the sound of his deep, guttural groan as he came, clawing at his muscular back (which was sure to leave marks) to bring yourself back to reality.

You lay limp on the mattress as he pulled himself from your used cunt with a hiss. You felt brain-dead, overwhelmed with the memory of his cock using you to no end. Your teary eyes met his, and all he could do was smile down at your fucked-out expression.

"Don't look at me like that, baby. We're only getting started."

tags ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ @one-of-thewalkingdead @acidqueensstuff @dirtylittlefairytales @rosaleelovesdilfs @lickit-up @prozacwhorehouse @lilly3434 @hereforthehitsbaby @redpillbluepill @iloveanthonyramos @littlered0000 @rubyfruitjungle @katyushakoschenka @queenofgotham2316 @pastelpinkflowerlife @angelsgalore @strangererotica @lustkitty69 @ajs-222 @coopers-bunny @a-movie-that-youve-never-seen @cattt777

#josh hartnett #trap #cooper adams #cooper adams x reader #cooper adams smut #scarlet was here!

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thebreakfastgenie · 1 month ago

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I knew that tiktok was the primary social media platform for younger people but a lot of them seem to have accounts on other platforms too, even if they use those less, so I don't think I realized the extent to which tiktok kind of has a monopoly. I get being upset about losing a network you've built, having to migrate to a new platform is a pain, it's why a lot of people continue to use twitter. I especially understand these feelings coming from actual teenagers, who are going to be a bit emotional and a bit self-centered about it because that's normal for their stage of development, plus I think it's understandable for a teenager not to have made plans to migrate their contacts to a new platform when the possibility of the ban was announced months ago, I have some sympathy for them and none at all for the influencers and small business owners who are whining about their livelihoods. Knowing the regulatory landscape and making contingency plans is part of running a business, skill issue. Anyway, I get all that, but seeing all these young people (some of whom are adults) talking like taking away tiktok takes away their access to recipes, music, and whatever other content they enjoy... it seems like it's never occurred to them that you can find these things other places. Is the internet as a concept synonymous with tiktok to them? That's concerning and raises a lot of monopoly red flags and I cannot understand being a leftist and defending it.

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moremaybank · 7 months ago

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jj who worships you when he finds out that you're insecure about your body post-pregnancy

warnings mentions of pregnancy, unprotected sex, oral sex (fem. receiving), fingering, hellaaa praise and reassurance bc jj's obsessed with you (and rightly so), dirty talk/language, use of daddy (lol), implied creampie requested here by my baby @everydaydreamer ♡︎

"suck for me, beautiful."

jj's breath is hot against the shell of your ear, eliciting goosebumps over your skin. his fingers probe at the seam of your lips, urging you to welcome them inside and coat them with your spit. he coos a hushed good girl when you followed his instruction, feeling your tongue roam as you lapped at them. when he deems them wet enough, his touch finds your clit and starts to trace circles on it.

"never meant to neglect you, mama," he begins, eyes finding yours in the mirror in front of you both. his chest is warm against the cool bare skin of your back, and you gladly receive the heat. it reminds you that he's here, that he's finally taking the time to worship you the way you've been dying for. his free hand migrates to your tits, taking equal turns in massaging them. he pinches your left nipple, revelling in your soft moan. "was jus' tryna respect the doctor's wishes...but if you're walkin' 'round here thinkin' i don't want you, then i'm not doin' my job right."

your head starts to dip as more and more pleasure pulsates throughout your body. you're forced to grip the edge of the bathroom counter when he applies more pressure to your achy bud, the marble cold beneath your touch.

"uh-uh, eyes open. want you to see how sexy you look when i touch you." his hand abandons your tit and wraps around your throat. it eases your gaze back onto the mirror. "there we go. you got it, mama. beautiful."

"want your mouth, j. will y'give it to me?"

jj dots wet kisses on the nape of your neck. "'course, mama. know i love tastin' you."

he releases you, rounding your body and putting space between you and the counter. he slowly drops to his knees, leaving kisses down the length of your torso until he's face to face with your core. he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, allowing himself to get a better view.

"there's my girl," jj smiles. heat pools in your lower belly when he feathers a wet kiss onto your clit. you flinch, and jj smirks up at you. "sensitive, huh?"

"your fault for making me wait so long. don't do that again."

he nods at your orders. "y'got it, sugar."

his lips return to your skin, moving up your front to your stomach, then to each of your hips. when his mouth leaves pecks of love over your stretch marks, he grips onto you tighter.

"see these? these...they make me crazy, baby. so fuckin' sexy." he bites at the flesh, dull teeth grazing over the tiger stripes fueling his fire. "you're a superhero, y'know that? so proud of you for growin' my baby in here."

his mouth wandered to your navel, travelling south as he brought his face back down to your leaky cunt. "my lil' warrior princess. love you, mama."

you let out a gasp, a whine following when his lips curl around your clit. "mm, love you, j."

he sucks at you, holding your bud hostage in his mouth as he works at it with his tongue. pride washes over him when you thread a hand through his hair and start to buck your hips against his mouth, craving more than what he's giving you. but jj knows you, sometimes better than he knows himself. you don't even get to ask for his fingers, he just takes it upon himself to slip his middle two fingers into your soaking heat.

his mouth leaves you, forming a smirk as he looks up at you. "drippin' all over my hand. missed me, huh?"

"you know i did."

a soft laugh escapes his lips before he buries his face back into you. your cunt continues to drench his chin and his hand, squelching with each push into.

"gonna cum," you warn. he nods, humming into you as he shakes his head back and forth. his fingers curled into your sweet spot, punting rapidly as he tries to pull your orgasm from you. of course, it doesn't take long because by now he's mastered his way around your body. he damn well knew how to make it work for him.

you cum with a cry, feeling your cunt throb violently as he laps up every last bit of the cream pooling from you.

once you've come down, he wastes no time stripping naked and wrapping you in his arms, carrying you to your bed and laying you down. the comforter is cool against your skin, and it isn't until jj's hands drag down your body that you begin to feel warm again.

"lemme do all the work, alright? you jus' lay there 'n relax for daddy. sound good?"

"so good," you breathe, sinking into the bed.

he lifts your legs, hands cupping the backs of your knees as he bends you to his will. you instinctively take his place when he moves to grip himself at the base. one hand settles on the back of your thigh, and he lines himself up with your entrance, eyes looking back up into yours for a moment.

"you ready, mama?"

you nod desperately. "need your cock, j. please."

"whatever you want, babygirl. s'real cute, but y'never gotta beg. know i'll never say no to my queen."

he gets you both into mating press, and his mushroom tip presses at your hole. sinking inside you slowly, he releases a shaky breath, feeling his muscles tense. it's been so long since he's been inside you, and your walls are sucking him in so tight. they're fluttering around him, stretching nice and wide to accommodate his width.

"fuck. missed you, mama. don't know if i'll last."

he drags himself out, and then pushes back inside. it takes him a few beats as he wills himself not to blow his load already, but he then finds a pace that knocks the wind out of you. he slams into you over and over, each thrust pushing a moan up your throat.

he watches you intently as he fucks you, like you're the best movie he's ever seen. tousled hair and wet parted lips. the cries pouring from your mouth as you call out for him. how could you ever think that he wouldn't want you?

"so fuckin' perfect, angel. nothin' could ever make me not want you. nothin'. y'understand?"

all you can do is nod, hands clutching at his biceps. your nails bite into his skin as you hold onto him for dear life.

"good. don't wanna hear you say anythin' bad 'bout yourself again. loved seeing you all knocked up. everyone knew how good i was dickin’ you down," he told you. he leans his forehead against yours, eyes peering into your orbs as he pummels his cock into you. "i'll always want you. if you need this cock, you jus' tell me 'n i'll give it to you real good. alright, mama?"

"yes, daddy. fuck."

"yeah. good. been missin' this tight pussy, baby. s'been killin' me."

he jackhammers his hips harder into the spot that has you on the edge of bliss. "mm, j...right there!"

"yeah?" he asks, slamming his hips into you. "right there, angel?"

"yes. yes!"

"fuck, you're so beautiful. my pretty baby. keep takin' this big cock for me." he kisses your forehead, littering loving pecks upon your skin while he fucks you hard. "yeaaah. that's it. squeeze me, mama. make me cum. fuck."

your walls grip onto him like a vice, as if he's the only thing giving them life — and he is.

"harder. harder, j! gonna cum!"

jj's body leans over your frame. his hands leave their resting place and guide yours above your head. they slip over yours, before your fingers lace together. his breath fans over lips when he tells you he's close.

"gonna give you all this fuckin' cum, mama. cum with me. give it to me, baby."

and let's just say, after he's done with you, you never doubt him or his desire for you ever again.

concepts ; concepts (ii)

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 2 years ago

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Hi can I request a smutty 3/e/32 cause of the heatwave reader shaves Jax Tellers hair. She wears a tiny dress with nothing under it cause it's too hot. and while Jax is sitting there and she's standing in front of him doing her thing he's going insane cause of that dress and starts stroking her thighs n more which leads to sex in the bathroom 🥵🥰

Heatwave.

3. "Will you let me cut your hair?" + 32. "Can I touch you?" + e. Heatwave

Author's Note - this is a drabble written as part of my 500 Followers Celebration!! find that post here. my first ever Jax fic - god this man is so gorgeous !! anon, i hope you don't mind that i chose to cut his hair rather than shave it - because the idea of shaving his blonde locks breaks my heart honestly :( thank you for this request!! x

my other jax fic.

Pairing - Jax Teller x Female Reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - smut!! cursing

Word Count - 890

Masterlist. 500 Follower Celebration Masterlist.

You can't watch him struggle any longer.

Jax is in your driveway, working on his bike in the blazing sun. He's shirtless, golden skin on display, sweat dripping down his back. He looks like he should be on the front cover of a magazine.

You can see him becoming irritated. His hair keeps falling into his face, getting into his eyes. He repeatedly pushes it behind his ears, to no avail. It just falls again. You're worried he's going to pull it out in a fit of rage, honestly.

"Jax?" you call, rising from the porch to make your way towards him.

He turns when he hears you call his name, beaming smile on his face. The smile falters slightly when he takes in the sight of you. You're wearing a short, colourful sundress, material swishing around your mid thighs. It hugs your body in all the right places, thin straps revealing your lack of bra. He takes a deep breath upon your approach, begging his mind to stop racing with the filthy thoughts.

"Hi, darlin'," he drawls, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. You're wearing your cherry lip balm, and it takes everything in him not to bend you over the bike right there.

"Will you let me cut your hair?" you ask sweetly, throwing your arms around his neck.

"You want to? Thought you liked it long."

"I do, but it's getting in your way. Just let me take a little length off? It'll stop it from falling in your eyes."

He smiles at the realisation that you've been watching him struggle and could no longer bear it. An angel, sent just for him.

"Okay, baby. Let's do it," he says, kissing you again. Abandoning his bike, he picks you up around the middle and practically carries you inside.

You pull a chair into the bathroom and gesture for Jax to sit while you rummage in the drawer for the hairdressing scissors. When you find them, you move to stand between his legs, big blue eyes watching your every step.

Jax places his hands on your hips while you run your fingers through his hair, combing it gently. You're deciding how much to take off, surveying carefully. You know he won't mind either way, but you still want to make it look good.

You start snipping away, ignoring the beads of sweat that are dripping down your back. It's the hottest day of the year so far, and your air conditioning can only do so much. You wish you could walk around with your shirt off like Jax. He probably wouldn't mind, actually.

His hands migrate from your hips to your thighs, stroking up and down gently. He's making it hard to concentrate, so you double down on your focus, determined to finish the job. Neither of you say anything about the way your breathing has quickened, or the way his is now deep and laboured. His fingers brush higher, and you put the scissors down on the counter.

"What are you doing?" you question teasingly, placing your hands on his shoulders.

"Just sitting for my haircut, ma'am," he answers cheekily.

"Do you try and put your hand up all of your hair stylists dresses, Jackson?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," he winks.

His eyes darken slightly as they rake over your body, up and down. He wraps a strong arm around your back, pulling you into him further. The other hand is still tracing patterns on your inner thigh. He dares to move it higher, and lets out a guttural groan at what he finds.

"Fuck, honey. Are you wearing panties?"

"Nope," you reply, popping the 'P'. "Too hot."

He rests his head on your stomach and trails his fingers along the crease of your thigh.

"Can I touch you?"

"You are touching me, Jax."

"No, baby. Can I touch you here? Please?"

To emphasise his question, he brushes his fingers over your clit lightly. You jolt at the sudden contact, throwing your head back.

"Yes, Jax. Please."

You're suddenly grateful for the grip you have on his shoulders. Your knees are buckling already, balance unsteady. God, this man knows how to play you like a violin.

"No more teasing," you pant. "Need you."

How can he say no to that?

He's fumbling to unbutton his jeans, pushing them down his thighs. He pulls you forward so you're straddling him, and lines himself up. In one swift stroke, you roll your hips downwards and he slides home, both of you groaning.

"Fuck, darlin'."

"Shit, Jax. Please."

You use his thighs and his shoulders as leverage, moving yourself up and down. He thrusts upwards, meeting your strokes, sending pleasure prickling down your spine.

"This fuckin' dress," he groans. You giggle, and the vibrations drive him wild.

He can tell you're close when your hips start to stutter, rhythm faltering. He doubles down, thrusting up with more force. Jax bites down on your shoulder, and it sends you over the edge, white hot and blinding.

Your climax triggers his, hips not stopping until you're both spent and boneless. Your foreheads are pressed together, panting.

"I'm gonna buy you a hundred of these dresses," he chuckles.

"Fine by me," you reply, kissing him deeply.

"Good."

"Might need one with sleeves, though. Something's gotta cover this bite mark."

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myfandomrealitea · 9 months ago

Text

One of the honest to god worst things about all the baby Wattpadders migrating to AO3 is how they're all formatting their shit and trying to do a whole marketing campaign in the summary and author notes because they're so used to the 2012 fancy text generator maybe your story will be read by a world famous movie director and you'll get famous and marry One Direction era that Wattpad superglued itself to.

Like when you've written your entire summary in double bold size 13 Barnbrook font I literally cannot see shit. Its just squiggles. Its just a mass of ugly squiggles that tells me less about your story than your 2 tags do.

Your summary should tell me what the story is about, not how excited you are to have written it and where to find you on a site I am clearly not using. You're not trying to sell your book at The Strand you're uploading it to an archive website known for ungodly smut and ships not even the devil himself would've thought of.

You don't need stolen fanart and unreadable font to get me to read your story you need appropriate tags and a summary that at the very least tells me if I should brace myself for Cars Universe cannibalism or not.

#myfandomrealitea #sephiroth speaks #fandom #proship #reality #proshipping #discourse #fanfiction #ao3 #fanfic #fic #wattpad #literature #writing #archiveofourown

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woso-dreamzzz · 5 months ago

Text

Miracle III

Aitana Bonmatí x Baby!Reader

Summary: An early morning with Mama

The sunlight filtering into the room has Aitana blinking awake, squinting as the soft rays of sun glow directly in her eyes.

She yawns, glancing away from the gap in the curtains to look directly at the baby monitor on her bedside table.

The image shows you clearly, wide awake and standing. One hand grips your pegasus plushie while the other stretches up to play with one of the hanging stars on your mobile.

You're probably getting too big for it now, developing quickly from baby to that weird baby-toddler in between that Aitana can remember happened to Skatt and before Skatt, Conejita.

She wishes that she'd studied them more carefully so she'd be prepared for this.

You seem to realise she's watching you though with the same weird sixth sense you have when you're playmates are ready to climb in the playpen with you at training.

You babble a bit, interspersing nonsense with real words as you blow spit bubbles.

"Mama Ta-Ta! Ta-Ta!"

Aitana finds a fond smile appearing on her face as she rolls over in bed, slipping her feet into a pair of fluffy slippers and pulling on a bathrobe to keep the early morning chill out.

You make a little noise of happiness when your bedroom door opens and Aitana plucks you into her arms without anymore nagging.

"Good morning, estrella," She coos, dropping a soft kiss to the end of your nose which makes you go cross-eyed.

"Mor'ing Mama Ta-Ta."

You reach out a hand to grab at Aitana's face, scraping weak little fingers against her cheek before finally getting a grip on her ear.

She laughs, gently pulling your grabby little hand away as she checks the funny little cuckoo clock Mapi had gotten you as a joke.

It's still early.

Too early to be up on a day off.

"Let's go to my bed."

You seem fascinated with the soft blanket covers as Aitana lays you in the middle of her bed as she strips back down to just her pjs, running your fingers over the patterns again and again as you gnaw on pegasus' wing.

Aitana drags you towards her in just the way you like, pulling out your fuzzy onesie legs until you're right next to her.

You kick out happily as she gently manoeuvres you into a sitting position.

There's no hope in getting you to sleep again, not when you're wide awake like this but that doesn't mean the two of you can't stay in bed for a little while longer.

Aitana is easily amused by the funny little sounds you make and the way that you try to sound out words you've heard her say before.

You're startlingly intelligent for your age, far advanced than what Aitana can remember baby Skatt and baby Conejita to be like. She isn't quite sure whether it's a genetic thing or just how much time she dedicates to your education, young as you are.

Tv time is spent only watching educational kid's shows or some documentaries. Time is set aside to watch a bit of football together of course but even then, Aitana waffles on about tactics and formations and everything else under the sun she can think of.

She's read all the baby books about raising children bilingual and how to foster a love for reading in them. She'd taken you to her parents once and returned to find her mother reading a university grade textbook to you before bedtime.

She doesn't know if it's just a Bonmatí thing or if it's how she's raising you.

Either way, she's glad because even now you're working your brain and you've barely gotten up.

"Mer-ry," You say and Aitana smiles.

"Mercury," She corrects.

"Mer-cry."

"Mer-cury."

"Mercury!"

"Good job, estrella!"

You giggle as Aitana tickles your tummy, hand coming out to imitate her movements but Aitana captures it easily, pressing a soft kiss to your palm.

The rest of the early morning goes the same way, with you struggling to say all the planet names until Aitana helps to correct you.

At some point, you migrate to her lap, head tilted all the way back on her shoulder so you can see her clearly.

Something about the way you look at her, your soft baby features, the smile on your face, the sparkle in your eyes, has Aitana's chest bursting with warmth.

"I..." She says, feeling slightly choked up as your hands gently explore her fingers," I love you, estrella."

"Lub you," You say back," Lub Mama."

The warmth turns to ice instantly, like a lance cracking her chest open and finding a home in her heart.

"No," Aitana says gently," No Mama. Mama Ta-Ta, remember? You've already got a Mama."

You shake your head. "Mama."

"I...Estrella...Estrella, no. I'm not Mama. I'm Mama Ta-Ta."

It feels disrespectful to take that role.

This was never the life Aitana was meant to have. You were hers biologically. That had been the plan.

She was meant to donate her egg, the least she could do for her two best friends who desperately wanted a child but couldn't have any of their own. She was meant to be Tia Aitana, Tia Ta-Ta who would swoop you up occasionally and show you the joys of life. The one that you could come to when you were a moody teenager and in that stage where you 'hated' your parents.

Maybe if you had called her 'Mami' it would be different but Mama was the name that Aitana's friend referred to herself as. She was meant to be your Mama, not Aitana.

Not Aitana who is already pushing invisible boundaries by allowing herself to be called Mama Ta-Ta.

You shake your head stubbornly. "Mama!"

It seems you've inherited the Bonmatí stubbornness too as your smiling face sets into a little frown just like Aitana's.

She doesn't know how to explain it to you, doesn't know how to explain that she can't be your Mama. No matter how much she wants to.

"Mama..." You whine, frown morphing into a chin wobble and a chin wobble morphing into big fat tears rolling down your face.

"No, no, estrella! It's okay! Don't cry! I'm sorry!"

Aitana desperately tries to bounce you, to soothe your tears but you're inconsolable until you're tucked into her chest, hand reaching up to tug at the collar of her sleep shirt.

"Mama," You babble through your tears, trying to shuffle even closer," Mama, please."

Aitana's own bottom lip wobbles as tears prick in her eyes.

She rests her cheek on the top of your head, breathing in the soft baby smell that never quite left, lingering on the edges of her senses like it had the first time she'd met you.

It feels disrespectful to take her friend's name but at the same time, it feels right.

To be your Mama.

To take the name that you've so happily bestowed upon her.

The name you've chosen for her.

No longer Ta-Ta or Mama Ta-Ta.

Just Mama.

You whimper a little, wiping your runny nose all over the front of her shirt. "Mama?"

"Yes, estrella," Aitana says," I'm your Mama."

#woso x reader #aitana bonmati x reader #aitana bonmati #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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noirsdoll · 2 months ago

Text

inspired by this anon ask!!

-> pretty please? part two

all aboard! | the dinner party | room for three

pairing: curly x wife!reader

words: 3.0k

tags: dubcon, referenced rape, baby trapping, semi-public sexual stuff, mentions of jimmy’s abuse towards anya, anya gets an abortion, reader is the worst person alive, there’s an actual smut scene this time, no crash au

notes: wasn’t planning on writing a second part but the brainrot got sooo bad uh reader gets even worse imo… writing the anya part caused me physical pain IM SORRY also i need to walk all over curly he’s so…

read it on ao3

Mrs. Grant Curly.

It sounds just as good as it feels. When Pony Express became fully automated, you lost your job just like everybody else. You were lucky that, when the dust settled, you’d made your mark on Curly.

Walking down the cargo ramp, displaying your fresh baby bump, courtesy of him, you've never felt more secure. Sure, Curly proposed to you more out of necessity than want and you got married at the courthouse, but you don’t care. That white picket fence dream you’d been chasing is now a reality.

Of course, you’re the one that cooks and cleans around the house— you didn’t expect anything less, you were sure that Curly had a housewife fantasy rolling around somewhere in that empty head of his. It’s nice, it keeps your hands busy and your mind free, because while he might be the one ordering you around, you’ve never felt more in control in your entire life.

You’re having the former crew over for dinner at your shared house, tonight. Fortunately, Jimmy got locked up for what he did to Anya quickly after the Tulpar’s touchdown, so you won't be seeing him for half a year, at least. The attendees are you, Anya, Daisuke, Swansea, and your lovely husband, Curly.

You cling to Curly’s arm, beckoning everyone in. Your guests crowd around you, admiring the ring Curly wrapped around your finger. A glittering diamond, so heavy it weighs down your hand. Curly smiles awkwardly.

“Wow, it’s gorgeous!” Anya says, with a clear hint of jealousy. You got a ring out of that trip and she gets an abortion.

“Damn, the Captain must be loaded!” Daisuke exclaims, tugging your hand closer for a better inspection.

Swansea nods. “It’s a good investment. You seem like a hard worker.”

“The hardest,” you say with a grin and a coy glance at Curly. “Dinner’s on the table. Pot roast.”

Everyone tucks in, one of the few non-synthetic meals they’ve had since their return to Earth, except for Daisuke, of course. You wonder how much his mom earns and how much it differs from Curly. For all you know, he could be a basement dweller for the rest of his life with no worries.

Curly sits beside you, eating quietly. With your free hand, you trail it up his thigh. You’ve touched him so many times before, but he still freezes up a little. Fortunately, you’ve done it enough that he knows better than to say anything, continuing to eat, albeit stiffer.

Your hand passes over his cock, right over the fabric of his nice suit. He looks so good in dinner formal— that tailored suit hugs his waist and somehow contains his tits. You’re glad you married him.

You hold a conversation with Swansea– something about gas prices and advice about your future kid— all with your hand gently running along the line of Curly’s dick. You honestly don’t care if they see, your cooking is good enough of a distraction.

You turn to look at the side opposite Curly and see Daisuke staring. Not at you, but at your hand— the one on Curly’s cock.

The both of you lock eyes and he looks away, his tan skin flushed rouge. You watch him for a moment, intrigued, slowly pulling away.

Nothing else happens for the rest of dinner, everyone migrates to the living room afterwards. Swansea’s showing Curly something in the garage and Anya’s in the washroom, so that just leaves you and Daisuke.

You lean back on the couch beside Daisuke. “So… what’re you doing now that the Tulpar’s done for?”

He rubs the back of his neck, wearing a suit— an expensive, designer one. “I dunno, Swansea’s having me join his freelancing business— and I think he’s great and all but like, I’m nowhere on his level.”

“I think you’re pretty capable, Daisuke,” you smile. “If not, I’m sure my husband can network you somewhere.”

Daisuke glances down at your pregnant stomach and back up. “So, you and the captain, you’re really like, married and all that?”

“Yeah, why?”

“No, nothing, it’s just— it seems kinda out of nowhere.” He shrugs, looking away. “You really spooked us when you announced it on the ship.”

“We’d been together for a while, it’s only natural that something would happen,” you laugh. You expected it to— you’d have poked holes in his condoms if he had them.

Daisuke swallows. “How long have you been together?”

You think for a moment. “Since maybe about… halfway through the trip? We just couldn’t keep our hands off of each other, really.”

“Oh, wow, that long?” He looks at you with a furrowed brow, contemplating.

“Yeah… is something wrong?”

“No,” he shakes his head, “I just feel stupid for not noticing.

“You’re not stupid, Daisuke. I said you were capable, remember?” You grin. “He just likes to keep things private, you know?”

“Private? But you two were…” He doesn’t finish the sentence. Is he talking about what he saw at the dinner table?

Daisuke glances past you and you hear footsteps, it must be Curly and Swansea returning from the garage.

You decide to play a game.

“... so then I figured I’d return to my roots. Go back to being a car mechanic,” Swansea says, halfway buried in a cardboard box.

“Right…” Curly holds the box steady for him, watching Swansea root through his spare tools like a raccoon.

Swansea springs up with a new wrench in hand— one that looks exactly like all the others he’s found laying around in Curly’s garage. “The missus wants me back to work already. Can you believe her?”

“It’ll be good for your joints,” Curly says, setting the box down.

Swansea tosses the newfound wrench into the pile of all the other hammers and pliers and wires. It thunks against the dull metal. Curly pats the dust off his suit, Swansea doesn’t seem to be worried about the condition of his own.

“Nah, she just wants to nag. She’s good at nagging.” Swansea laughs, patting Curly on the back and knocking the wind out of his lungs. “Get used to that, huh? You keep telling yourself it’ll end eventually and it never does.”

Curly takes a moment to regain his breath. “Thank you, but she doesn’t nag.” You do something far worse than nag.

“Yeah? Well, it’ll be something or another. It always is with women.” He pops his back, groaning. Swansea gestures to his pile of knick-knacks with his head. “I’ll have these all back to you by the end of the month.”

Curly nods. “Thanks, Swansea.” He’s never seeing those tools again.

After hauling it all to Swansea’s rusty pickup, they head to the living room. That’s where Curly sees you and Daisuke. He hears you too, and he wishes he couldn’t.

“Oh, you’re talking about me feeling him up during dinner? Yeah, Curly’s into being humiliated. He always has me do stuff like that when we’re in public.” You shrug. “I think it’s nasty, but you know, gotta keep the husband happy.”

Curly stops dead in his tracks, unsure of what to do or say. It’s like a car crash, all he can do is watch, powerless to stop the careening vehicle.

“So… you do stuff like that all the time?” Daisuke’s voice is shaky, breathless.

“Yeah, most couples roleplay.” You look so at ease. Curly feels sick. “Have you ever tried anything like that, Daisuke?”

“What?! I, uh, no, I haven’t.”

“That’s a shame. I’m sure if I talked to him, you and I could work something out—”

“Honey?” By some force of God, he’s compelled to speak, walking forward to the both of you.

You turn to him, your eyes lighting up. Curly would be flattered if he didn’t know your true intentions. Time with you has told him one thing— you’re constantly scheming. This is your newest one. But why drag Daisuke into this? Just to spite him?

Maybe you’re switching targets. That could be a good thing, but Curly can’t bring himself to feel that way– especially when it’d just be another person getting hurt in his stead.

He was never hurt. You’re a pretty girl, of course he’s wanted it, he was just confused. That’s why he never pushed you off, that’s what makes it all okay.

“Ah, there’s the man of the hour,” you smile, “we were just talking about you, nothing important.”

Curly glances from you to Daisuke, whose eyes are so wide they swallow up his whole face. “Yeah, had a feeling you were. Why don’t you go check on Anya? Swansea and I have some business stuff to talk to Daisuke about and I doubt you want to be around for that.”

“Of course,” you beam, getting on your tiptoes to kiss him. You leave with a flurry of your dress around the corner.

At least Curly can say you aren’t bad to look at.

“Fuck, fuck, where did I put it?”

Anya rifles through her tiny purse, sorting through makeup and pills and her phone, searching for the one thing she really needs right now. She feels frantic, lamenting not wearing a dress with pockets. Eventually she finds it, pulling out a wrinkled period liner that was shoved to the bottom of her bag.

Getting her period is a reminder of Jimmy, a reminder of the fact that she’s not pregnant anymore, that she’s safe from him now. Anya never knew her period could be so comforting.

Just as she grabs a hold of the pad, she hears a knock on the bathroom door. “Who is it?” Anya shoves the pad back into her void of a bag, trying to disguise the crinkles with her voice.

“Can I come in?” It’s you. One of the few friends she has.

“Yes, of course.”

You enter, baby bump first, and Anya has to look away, wringing her hands. She doesn’t mean for the gesture to appear so rude, but she can’t help it.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, moving your head till it meets her gaze.

Anya nods on instinct. “Yes, I’m fine. Just… parties make me exhausted sometimes.”

“I get it, totally.” You sit on the edge of the tub, with Anya leaning against the counter. Everything in this bathroom is so blindingly white— it reminds Anya of the room where she got her abortion— operation.

“Um, congratulations on you and Curly’s marriage, if I didn’t say it already.”

You smile, “Aww, thank you, Anya. Truly, I’ve never been happier.”

“That’s good,” she purses her lips, debating if she should ask the question. “On the Tulpar, you told me that Curly made you do things. Is everything okay with you and him?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Sometimes people make mistakes, confuse a situation for something it’s not, you know?”

“Ah, really?”

“Oh, all the time.” You say it like it’s obvious. Something winds in Anya’s stomach. “I figured, it was just all in my head, really. You just wanna feel special sometimes. I talked to Grant and apologized for saying a thing like that and now it’s all better.” You gently pet a hand over your stomach. “Plus I get this little guy as a reward for all my hard work.”

Anya swallows. “Right, yeah.” It feels like she’s being crushed from above. She can’t breathe, blurting out each word. “Do you have a pad, by any chance? I only have one and I don’t think it’ll be enough.”

Slowly, you shake your head. “Sorry, I don’t get those anymore. I’m pregnant, remember?” You chuckle. “Will you be okay without an extra?”

She nods. “Yes, I might have to leave early, though.”

“Alright, well, come get me when you want to leave so I can show you out.” You pat her shoulder, smile a warm smile, and leave the way you came.

Anya collapses in a heap once the door closes.

Like all good things, the party eventually comes to an end. You stand at the door with Curly’s hand on your waist, the perfect picture of a couple as you see your guests off.

Once the door shuts and the porch lights click off, Curly reaches for his tie’s knot, loosening it with a sigh. “Did you have fun?”

“So much fun.” You lock the door, heading down the hall to the bedroom. “How was your business talk?”

Curly trails after you, undoing his suit jacket. “It’s boring. It always is.”

You reach the bedroom, standing by the foot of it as you unzip your dress and step out of it. Curly looks like he wants to say something, so you stay silent. Poor thing, it’s like speaking his mind hurts.

He’s halfway down unbuttoning his dress shirt when he strings the words together. “Am I not enough for you?”

“What makes you say that?” You know exactly what he’s talking about. You just like seeing the way he questions himself when you question him.

You unclasp your bra, your tits drooping. You hate the way you look pregnant, you have to avoid seeing your reflection like a fucking vampire. It’s a means to an end, that’s the only thing that’s reassured you.

“That whole thing with Daisuke— you can’t just say stuff like that in front of other people.” He’s gaining a bit of a backbone, it surprises you. “I want this to work.”

“Then we both need to step up, right?” You move closer. “I cleaned the whole house and cooked dinner just for you to spend most of the time hiding in the garage.”

“We were working, it wasn’t like it was on purpose—,”

“No, it was on purpose. You’re being a bad husband, Grant.” You gesture to your belly, the final nail in the coffin. “You can’t act like this when I’m pregnant with your baby, okay? You have to be a father to your child.”

You stand there, fuming and for a moment you actually feel angry. Your performance is so convincing even you believe it.

“Hey, don’t be mad, please.” It’s the best argument he’s got, especially when he tips your grumbling face up to meet his baby blues. “I fucked up today and I’m sorry, okay? I’ll do better, promise.”

Fuck, he’s so perfect. He caves like clockwork, hearing him admit it’s his fault gets you soaked every time. You kiss him, soft and slow. “Could you help me take off my heels, then? My feet are killing me.”

You sit on the edge of the bed and Curly takes a knee, the same way he did in your crew quarters, promising to buy you a ring the second he landed. And he always keeps his promises.

He undoes your heels and you watch on with an easy grin as he peppers kisses along your ankles and the top of your feet. You expected him to do that, Curly’s so predictable. He keeps his eyes on yours, searching for your praise. He kneads your feet a little too, massaging out all the aches and pains.

His mouth trails higher and higher until it reaches its end destination— your shaven pussy. You can never get a good look with the baby bump in the way, so you make him shave it. It’s one of his favourite tasks– like a sensory toy for a toddler.

Curly’s tongue laves over your slit and he eats you out, thick eyelashes fluttering closed as he takes his time with you.

Your orgasm makes up for the fake anger you lobbied at him— it swallows you up and spits you back on the bed with a limp spine. You deserve it, honestly, all this acting really takes a toll on you.

Your favourite part is when he gets on the bed with you, big burly arms caging you in. It feels like the entire world’s been closed out and it’s just you and him. Nothing but his warm body pressed so tightly to yours. Two puzzle pieces that fit.

Curly fumbles a little in the dark, but eventually his fat cock is splitting you open, that same perfect cock that knocked you up all those months ago. It feels just as good as it did the first time and all those subsequent times after.

His eyelids fall to half mast as he looks at you, and that’s how you know you have him. So easily ensnared, what’s the point of an argument when you can just spread your legs and he comes willingly? You’ll have to try it next time, see if your pussy does a better job of speaking for you.

The mattress creaks with every slow movement. Unhurried and hard is the rhythm he always chooses, constantly searching your expression to make sure he isn’t hurting you. Not that you’d mind.

It would just remind you of that night in his quarters, when he’d snapped and he was no longer the Curly you’d grown obsessed with, when you were half sure he might kill you. Since then, you made sure never to push him that far again, to only play games you were certain you’d win.

And Curly filling you up after a long day is a sure bet.

He cums quicker than you’d like, but you’re too tired to berate him. He’s done enough today. Crowded up against his chest, you play with the hair there, winding the short strands around your fingers.

Too fucked out for malice, you both talk for a while. On baby names, on family, on being better. You only care about one of those. You’ve been set on the baby names ever since you scratched them onto the metal wall of your quarters back on the Tulpar— right above the heart with both yours and Curly’s names.

You just tell him you haven’t decided yet.

#🕸️—writing #mouthwashing fanfic #mouthwashing curly #mouthwashing x reader #curly x you #mouthwashing curly x reader #mouthwashing x y/n #curly x reader smut #curly smut

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