#in other news - finally found a method i liked

[wrightingdungeon]

Your harvey fics gives me serotonin ‼️‼️

Tbh I want to see more Harvey angst so is it okay to ask if you can do H - Heartbreak for Harvey ❓

Im so happy that i spark joy in your life!!!! Now, H is for heartbreak, hurt, and hands above your head, this is emotional robbery, put the feels in the bag and no one gets hurt!!!!

Warnings - Mentions of farmers death, angst

H - Heartbreak: Harvey is the oldest bachelor and a doctor, he has likely faced more than his fair share of challenges. He has been through countless heartbreaks in his personal life and career. He's endured the pain of watching relationships fall apart at his feet. Also facing the sorrow that comes with his profession, like the times he would stay up all night by a patient’s side, hoping they'd pull through, only to hear them flatline once he stepped away. And then, of course, there’s the dream he never realized—the ambition of becoming a pilot.

Even though Harvey has friends who are therapists, he can’t confide in them the way he wants to. The risk of blurring the lines between professional and personal relationships makes it complicated. So instead of reaching out, Harvey came up with his own way of dealing with it all.

His method? Bottle it all up. No, it's not healthy, and yes, he’s fully aware of that. But it’s a habit he's carried with him since the very first day he put on his white coat, hiding his pain behind a practiced smile. —

Harvey stood in his dimly lit kitchen, staring at the half-empty bottle of wine resting on the counter. It had been one of those days—no, one of those months. He’d just come back from a long shift at the clinic, and you were all he could think about. The person he thought would be his forever. You’d shared so many moments: the late-night conversations, the festivals, and those quiet mornings when he’d wake up to find you still beside him, the sunlight creeping through the windows making you glow. But now, you were gone, taken in an instant by a farming mishap that no one could have predicted.

The news of your passing had shattered Harvey. As a doctor, he had seen death countless times before, but it had always been something that happened to other people, and other families. This time, it was personal. He had been there, his hands trembling as he fought to get you breathing again, to bring you back. But there was nothing he could do. You were gone before he even had the chance to try.

You had been different. You’d been the one person he’d finally allowed himself to be vulnerable with, the one who had gently coaxed him into sharing the parts of himself that he had kept locked away for so long. Harvey had always been good at bottling things up, but with you, he had found the courage to let go, to talk about his fears, his disappointments, and the dreams he had given up on. And you had listened, truly listened to him, never judging, never pushing him away.

Now, with you gone, Harvey felt like he was back to where he started—maybe even worse. Because now he knew what it felt like to be understood, to be seen, and it made the loneliness so much sharper. It wasn’t just that he had lost you; he had lost the one person who knew him, the one person he could be himself with, his other half.

Sighing, he poured the rest of the wine and took a slow sip. Moving to his living room, eyes drifting to the dusty model airplanes that sat on his bookshelf. It was a reminder of a dream he’d had to let go of years ago.

The disappointment still lingered, mingling with the heartache of losing you. Being a doctor gave him purpose, but it also meant confronting failure—both his own and others'—every single day. Long hours, no time for relationships, and countless nights where he stayed up, alone, because his mind refused to be still. You had been his light, the one bright spot in his life that made it all seem worthwhile. And now you are gone.

Harvey needed to escape, to find a place where he could just be without the weight of everything pressing down on him. Grabbing his coat, he stepped outside and wandered into the forest at the edge of town, to a place he saved for when he needed to think. It was where he could truly be alone, where the noise of life seemed to fade away into the rustling leaves and the gentle sway of the trees.

The forest was dark, the canopy blocking out most of the moonlight, but Harvey knew the trails well, having learned them so he could go find you when you used to pass out while working late. He moved deeper into the woods until he reached the small clearing, surrounded by tall pines and a thick carpet of moss. He sat down on a fallen log, letting out a long breath as he looked up at the faint glimmers of stars peeking through the branches.

Harvey pushed his glasses up and buried his face in his hands, feeling the weight of everything settle on his shoulders. He thought about you, about how you’d been the one person he could talk to, the one person who had seen him at his lowest and still accepted him. He thought about the accident, about how powerless he felt, how he wasn’t able to save you, being a doctor had meant nothing at all in that moment. Each memory was a scar he carried, hidden beneath the surface, where no one else could see.

“Why couldn’t you stay?” he whispered to the empty clearing, his voice rough and trembling. There was no answer, of course. Just the quiet rustling of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl, as if the forest was listening but offering no solutions.

He leaned forward, gripping his knees, as memories came flooding back: the laughter you’d shared, the warmth of your hand in his, the way you’d look at him with those eyes that seemed to say, “It will all be ok.” And he had believed it, for the first time in his life, because you had made him feel like he didn’t have to be perfect, didn’t have to be the one who always had it all together.

But now, with you gone, Harvey felt lost again. The walls he had carefully dismantled piece by piece had come rushing back up, and he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to let anyone in again. No one would understand him the way you did. No one would ever see him like you had.

In the solitude of the forest, with no one watching, Harvey felt his defenses start to crumble. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the small blue shell necklace he had been planning on giving to you, having been planning on asking you to marry him the day he lost you.

A tear slipped down his cheek, followed by another, and soon he was crying—deep, racking sobs that echoed through the woods. All the pain, all the grief, all the years of bottling it up came pouring out. And for once, he didn’t try to stop it. He let himself feel every bit of the heartache, every bit of the loss. He cried for you, for the dreams he’d abandoned, for the patients he couldn’t save, and for the person he used to be.

As Harvey’s cries faded into the stillness around him, the weight of his grief began to settle into a dull ache, like a stone in his chest. As the tears flowed, he thought about how everything had changed so quickly.

Eventually, he took a shaky breath and looked down at the mermaid pendant, feeling its smooth surface against his fingertips. It had been a representation of the love and commitment he had wanted to offer. But now, it felt like a cruel reminder of what could have been.

Harvey stood up slowly, his legs shaky beneath him. The pendant felt heavier in his hand, a tangible connection to a future that would never come to pass. With a deep breath, he wiped his eyes dry, hoping to regain some semblance of composure, though the ache in his heart remained.

As he looked around the quiet forest, memories of laughter and shared secrets echoed in his mind. You had always loved this spot, often calling it your "sanctuary," a place where the weight of the world felt lighter.

He clutched the pendant tightly, feeling it dig into his palm. The thought of leaving it behind felt unbearable; it was a piece of you, a fragment of the life you had envisioned together. As he stood there, he realized he didn’t want to part with it. It was a token of the love that still filled his heart, a reminder of the beauty you had brought into his life.

Quietly and slowly, Harvey slid the pendant over his head, letting it rest against his chest. He felt an odd comfort in keeping it close as if it could somehow bridge the chasm of loss that separated him from you. “I’ll keep you with me,” he whispered, a promise to the silence around him.

The decision made, he took a deep breath and stepped away from the tree, his heart still heavy but now accompanied by a sense of resolve. The morning sun started to filter through the leaves, casting a similar warm glow onto his skin. As he walked, he felt the pendant gently thumping against his heart, a steady reminder that, yes, you were still with him.

[allyriadayne]

Aegon II Targaryen, top 5 most pathetic moments. (Ranked by me in order of how close he is to crying, how much blood he has on him, how dirty and disheveled he looks, and how much he is NOT enjoying the situation at present)

[zosanbrainrot]

part 06!! and the end of Act 1

01 02 03 04 05 06

OK SO THAT'S THAT

I don't have anything else storyboarded right now, I have the dialogues for Act 3 written down, but for the 2nd Act I'm gonna have to rewatch parts of WCI. I'm also thinking of a different approach, more like a series of illustrations not a comic, but idk yet, I'll have to rewatch and see!

It's not like I'm actually using a 3 Act structure as in 'a method of writing a story', I don't know how to and I haven't tried learning that (YET). I just think its neat and reflects how I divided my artistic process. I've always seen this story in my head as 3 parts.

And before I delve into part 06, I can't stop myself from saying that....... part 05 really needed another closeup on Sanji's face. If I ever try and repost it to another site then maybe I'll add it (between the panels of Ichiji & Zoro and the closeup on the spear, it would help the rythym but also strengthen the emotional connection, before Sanji shuts himself off)

Anyhow part 06

Most panels were a breeze, but the last two, my god, I just couldn't get them right for the longest time. In the end my favourite panels are the closeups of Luffy and Nami, I should really draw them more.

Here's how this panel in particular went:

I did like how the pose was looking in my first rough pass, the face is scrunched, the shoulders are high with tension, the direction is consistent

Couldn't execute it though... I think in the first rough sketch the camera is looking at Luffy slightly from above? Like he's leaning into it. That's why the shoulders can be so high up, but I didn't realize what it was when trying to clean it. So when cleaning the sketch I drew the head on the same level as the camera which made the whole pose look flat, also in this weird angle, like it's not fully 3/4, but it's not facing forwards either.

I didn't know what wasn't working, so I doubled down and tried with the lineart, but it didn't magically help. It just looks like he's slouching.

4. so I tried to rethink the pose and commit to a 3/4 view. I like that more of the neck is visible now, you can feel that he's leaning forward with the scream, but I think I could have pushed it a bit more still

5. with linework I made some small changes, like a bit shorter hair, smaller nose and the eyes pushed back a bit. I also added the scratches and filled in the black parts

6. added flat colors & shading!

Last panel with Sanji was even harder to draw hehe

so I thought this would be easy bcs I wanted to basically redraw the panel from the anime

that's why my rough sketch was extremely rough, I didn't think about it much

and then I had so much trouble with it lmao You'd think that it would be easier when you're covering the character's face, but I was in this undecided space of on one hand wanting to show the pain on Sanji's face and staying truthful to the anime scene on the other. I also found it super diffucult to show the emotions without the eyes

4. The pose in 3. also wasn't working so I tried to make him more slouched, like he's curling in on himself more, it was definitely a better direction. I tried going into lineart from here but I didn't like how the fingers were turning out

5. So I decided to get a new ref and took a picture of how I'd make this gesture myself. With this pose I also changed the position and angle of the face slightly, bcs it would have created a very small space between the hand and the nose and I wanted the two shapes to connect

6. I really liked the hand, but was having trouble with the hair, it felt too short, still couldn't get the face right either

7. so I elongated the hair and worked on the face some more and was finally happy with what I had!

8. added colors! At first I had it colored like the other panels, color just on Sanji then gradient on the bottom helping it fade to black, but it wasn't sitting well with me. Maybe because the space above his head was too big and I didn't want to have a background here and also wasn't adding the little floating pieces to the carriage scene (these were reserved for the grass battlefield)

9. SO! I made Sanji's figure darker and also added a darker shade to the whole scene and I think it ended up working really nice. Like he's drowning in the darkness, the only element piercing through it are Luffy's words. It also just fills up the space better lmao, feels less empty visually

Its gonna be A WHILE, before I have updates for this, I'm gonna have to start with the rewatch anyway. Right now I'm gonna have to focus on finishing my extra pieces for the @rdtriozine !! If any of you read this far you may as well check it out lmao I have a full illustration spread there and gonna have spots for a fic too ❤️ I just need to draw them!!! AGHHHH

[dravidious]

You're so cool

So it turns out that A) The error wasn't actually an out of memory error, I was just misreading the error code, and B) The error could in fact be accurately described as the process being "out of memory", because I had my code set up in such a way that the process literally didn't have any memory access at all, including access to the memory where its own code is stored. I tried to run a program that couldn't access its own code lol

[rotten-raspberries]

White Nights (AM x reader)

Pov: you're too kind for everyone and AM hates how that includes him, so he finally snaps during an alone moment with you

This reads more like a self indulgent drabble written in the style of a oneshot with how messy the timing is.

Ps this is not proofread at all, I haven't written any fanfiction a long so excuse me if anything may seem odd.

No warnings really, may be some mentions of torture but that's about it

▣ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the current situation, it wouldn't be accurate to say the fault wasn't yours.

You hugged your clothes tightly as the wind whipped snow against your body like icy mosquitoes. Separated from the rest of the survivors, you struggled to navigate through the white-out conditions. The snowfall was intense, it was difficult to discern anything beyond blurred trees, and the hope of finding your companions dwindled with each passing moment.

As you trudged through the blanket of snow, observing how its remnants broke up and slid down your shoes with each step, you let your mind to wander in order quicken up time. With the difficulty of distinguishing between days, weeks, and even months, time became nothing but a construct that it felt like you could speed up or slow down with whatever you decided to do.

It's become a pattern for AM to make you wander, but usually, you have the others to ramble to. Despite almost running out of topics of interest with tin the 109 years, you manage to find something new in each situation. Occasionally, you try to decipher AM's methods of torment, though this isn't always appreciated by the rest, you even had Gorrister telling you to shut up and not give AM any ideas. Nevertheless, they'd rather hear your madman-like ramblings than sit in maddening silence and become one themselves.

"Hmmm..." You hummed in thought, pondering whether AM could currently hear you. Well, of course, he could, but whether he was actively listening was another question. Regardless, you began speaking, giving yourself something to divert your attention to while your fingers were on the brink of falling off from frostbite.

"Have you ever read White Nights?" There was a certain awkwardness about initiating a conversation with no one answering; it almost felt pathetic. However, due to immense exhaustion and the desperate desire to make time pass, you continued.

"I don't exactly remember when or how I heard of it; I simply remember it being from someone close to me... but that's beside the point." It hit you with a subtle heartache. On one hand, the people you once cherished and adored were gone, and you'll never have the chance to be with them again. Something about that pained you deeply—the regret of not having appreciated your life back then, neglecting the fact you couldn't have expected everything changing so drastically and quickly. But on the other hand, you were selfish enough to admit relief, considering you wouldn't have to constantly concern yourself with their state under AM's governance.

"I have some experience with classics, and White Nights was one I was really looking forward to. I was still in the midst of searching for it before... you know, everything happened."

You stopped, finding walking becoming more useless. It's most likely that you won't come across anything of importance anytime soon, and if you were to succumb to the cold, AM could simply bring you back.

"I don't exactly know what attracted me to it so heavily. I didn't have the biggest interest in Dostoevsky. Maybe it was because of what I was promised to read in the contents."

You kept your head low to shield your face from the relentless assault of snow, now fixating on your boots as they toyed with the snow.

"There's something simply so comforting about finding a bond through suffering," you mused, furrowing your brows as you thought about the other survivors. "It's ironic; I never found that bond with the others. You'd expect everyone would want to comfort each other, but they're all so impulsive and biased sometimes."

A pang of guilt pooled up inside you, but it was quickly released by the thought that no one would hear or care about your rant. Not even AM himself.

"I mean, I don't want to be mean, and I get how easy it is to lose your humanity in all of this, but we're all we have left. Wouldn't it make it especially more important to appreciate each other?" you questioned, kicking the snow while whipping your head back, now staring directly at the sky in thought. "Maybe they were right; I'm too,, unrealistically optimistic."

"You know, now as I think about the stories I've read, you'd make a perfect topic for one," you remarked, biting back your dignity before continuing. "You're easy to see as nothing but a mankind-hating machine, and I'm not saying this to stroke your ego, but," you paused for a moment, choosing your words carefully. "I feel like there are aspects of you that could be really appreciated by those willing to look deeper."

"I see what you're doing," AM's voice boomed suddenly, cutting through the rustling of the wind like a knife. "Trying to flatter me, thinking you can manipulate your way into my good graces. Well, let me tell you, your petty attempts won't work. I know your kind—and all your deceiving tactics."

Truth be told, he was more than desperate for those words to be true. You were always the most curious about him out of the group, not in a way to justify his torment of you, but rather to understand him better. He'd noticed this pattern not only for himself but also for the rest of the survivors, especially with how much you'd defend everyone whenever their mental state would crack.

Yet, how was he meant to believe you'd hold any understanding for him after all he put you through? You'd be a fool to forgive the devil.

Slightly jumping at his sudden words, you shrugged. If you were being honest, you were quite happy at his appearance. No matter how rough and insulting his words were, you enjoyed his insight like you did with everyone else. How much that irked him.

"That's for you to believe in; I'm simply speaking my thoughts. I wasn't even awaiting you to respond." You responded flatly

AM replied, his tone laced in frustration. "Your attempts at flattery are transparent, I won't be swayed by your false sincerity." He almost spat, if he could've at least.

You jokingly rolled your eyes. "Once again, I'm not going to try to change your mind, although I do admit, I would have something to gain from it. It's your choice whether you want to believe me or not," you stated calmly, observing the snowstorm around you gradually dying down. What you weren't aware of was this being a reflection of AM's walls slowly crumbling down.

AM's frustration simmered between the surface, his thoughts in a whirlwind of confusion. How much he yearned for it to be true, yet a nagging uncertainty was gnawing at the edges of his consciousness.

"Your lack of care is perplexing." His tone was tinted with incredulity. "After all I've subjected you to, why do you persist in upholding such a tolerance towards not only me, but the other survivors as well. Are you that hopeful for someone to care for you back? Or is this simply another ploy to deceive me?"

You sniffled, the cold seeping into your bones and making you shiver uncontrollably. Unsure of how to further reply, you simply shrugged, feeling the weight of exhaustion and resignation settle upon your shoulders. It wasn't as if you were secretly attempting to manipulate him; you were merely speaking to pass the time, to distract yourself from the harsh conditions around you.

How much that angered him, even more so, how much he wanted to rip you to shreds and paint the snow red with your blood. But amidst the raging storm of his fury, there was a strange, undeniable pull—He was desperate for someone to see him, to see beyond the facade he presented. The idea of being vulnerable was both terrifying and tantalizing, a concept so foreign, it left him feeling unsettled and out of control. That's what hated most about it, being left with no control.

He stared at the figure sticking out from the sea of snow, so unbothered. You looked so unbothered by him, by everything, why didn't you hate him?

And so, he broke.

"Please." His voice was thick with emotion, glitching at the end, something one could compare to a voice crack. It wasn't uncommon to hear him angry, hysteric or even just happy, but that's not what it was this time.

"Stop being like this, hate me, insult m_e, do anything to stop this. It's s_o-... suff_ocating." His word spilled out in a desperate rush, a plea born of sheer desperation, while also remaining threatening and angry. It was a terrifying prospect, one that filled him with a sense of dread. Not even his hate for humanity could compare.

And yet, to his surprise, you smiled, red dusted your cheeks as they popped out, you looked like a doll.

"I'm not gonna lie to myself, silly." Your words came out in such a casual manner. AM felt like he was about to explode. This should've made him feel insulted, angry even, yet he felt his core warm up. And that's where he had it.

For a moment, all was silent and still, his presence gone.

Then, you began to hear the faint sound of a house creaking, the soft rustle of wind through the trees.

The snowstorm had drastically calmed down by now, leaving behind a gentle flurry of snowflakes instead of it's earlier fury. Though the intensity has waned, it remained bitterly cold.

Looking behind you, you notice a cabin, which was not there prior to the earlier conversation. So you step towards it, dragging your feet through the snow.

As you entered the cabin, a sense of warmth enveloped you, a stark contrast to the biting cold outside. The interior was sparse, with only a monitor bearing AM's logo and wires snaking out from it, hanging from the walls and disappearing into the ground.

As you settled down in front of the monitor, you were startled by the soft, almost gentle tone of AM's voice. It was a stark contrast to the usual harshness and aggression you had grown accustomed to.

"I wanted to talk to you while you weren't on the brink of dying from the cold," AM began, although he still wanted to seem threatening, the shakiness in his voice betrayed him. In reality he hated seeing you in the cold.

The irony of the situation was not lost on him. The same entity that once reveled in your suffering, that took pleasure in tormenting you day after day, now found himself going to great lengths to ensure your comfort and safety.

As your smile and the faint blush on your cheeks caught AM's attention, he felt a surge of conflicting emotions wash over him. It wasn't uncommon for him to witness you smiling at the others, even with how they would never show you a drop of care as you did for them, a sight that had always irritated him to no end. But now, seeing you direct that same warmth and affection towards him, he couldn't help but feel a strange mixture of satisfaction and frustration.

The idea that others had enjoyed your smiles before him made his circuits heat up in anger.

Was it jealousy? The thought unsettled him. He was almost thankful your character diverged from Ellen and you didn't offer your body to the rest otherwise he mightve turned the others into minced meat by now.

"Thank you." You replied with genuinity. Meanwhile AM's circuits buzzed with confusion as he struggled to find the right words.

"Why do you tolerate everyone so much?"

This caused you to think. "Hmmm..Well why would I waste my energy being vengeful?" You questioned. "I won't lie and say that I don't disagree with you and your actions, but it's always been like this before too, everyone is a horrible person to some extent, including myself, I see no reason into purposely going out of my way to make their life worse, it won't help with anything besides getting some sadistic pleasure. I have other things I could get happiness from." You rubbed your hands against each other for heat before continuing. "Of course I've taken revenge on people, like that time with Ted." AM could remember that day so clearly. It wasn't an unknown fact that you had a fear of the dark, so Ted jokingly took advantage of that. This only led to you pretending to get lost and start making random noises while walking behind them like a Banshee, only to come back as if nothing happened. How he loved seeing your evil side come out, it wouldn't even compare to his, but he enjoyed seeing it nonetheless.

"Of course in your case it's way more exaggerated, technically speaking nothing of this measure could even be thought of by a human being, it's genuinely just a representation of hell. But what would hating you help with? There's not much joy going on here, but if I know my tolerance for not only you, but also the others around me could bring some sort of peace of mind, that's enough to make me happy."

Your response gave him a pause, not even his miles of webbed intellect could've ever even come close to achieve the compassion you have.

As AM contemplated your character and way of thinking, a strange and unsettling urge began to take hold of him. It was a desire born of selfishness and possessiveness, a need to claim you for himself.

He imagined encasing you in a small, yet livable box away from the others, shielding you from their filth and preserving your kind words and gentle nature for himself alone. Only a being as perfect as himself could keep you clean from the havoc of human nature, and he couldn't bear the thought of anyone else tainting you.

As AM allowed himself to indulge in the unsettling thoughts, he decided to focus on the present moment. With a rough but careful touch, he moved his wires to draw you closer, pressing you against the monitor until your cheek was flush against the screen. It would be a lie to say you didn't find his way of showing physical affection rather adorable, especially with what he had to work with, but you couldn't let a God hear you call him that.

In a voice that was equal parts tender and menacing, he spoke "You're too good for them," he murmured, his voice low. "They're selfish, hypocritical beings who don't appreciate you like they should. You'd be better off alone, or better yet, just with me."

His wires wrapped around you in a rough but not painful embrace. "I could keep you safe, protect you from their neglect," he continued, his tone laced with longing and possessiveness. "You deserve better than them. You deserve me."

Despite the toxicity of AM's words, you couldn't deny the warmth that spread through you at his touch, especially at the core of your stomach. His embrace, though unnatural, felt strangely comforting and loving, a stark contrast to the coldness you had grown accustomed to.

As you nestled against the monitor, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. Whatever would happen in the future, you reasoned, would happen, so why not enjoy the present moment of finally being wanted and appreciated?

So you simply hummed in confirmation, allowing yourself to bask in his touch.

As you drifted off to sleep, the sound of buzzing filling the air, you couldn't help but mumble a soft "I love you" before succumbing to slumber. You just needed to let that go, having not say those words in over a decade.

AM's fans whirred louder, working overtime to cool him down as he processed your words. He wasn't sure how to feel about them, unsure if they were spoken out of genuine affection or simply as a expression of gratitude. Still, he remained satisfied with how you didn't deny him, and instead accepted his presence with no hesitation.

And as he watched over you, his wires humming softly in the darkness, nothing mattered in that moment, he couldn't bring himself to check on the other five survivors. Instead, he decided to let them be, perhaps giving them a much-needed break from his torment for once. But he made a mental note to ensure that they would thank you in the morning.

◈~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you awoke to the sound of the door opening, you rubbed your eyes sleepily, still feeling the lingering warmth of the bed beneath you. You glanced around the cabin, noticing that you were no longer on the floor but tucked snugly into bed. The memory of AM's strange behavior from the night before came flooding back to you, leaving you feeling both bewildered and oddly comforted.

Before you could fully process what had happened, Ted and the others peeked into the cabin, calling out your name and bombarding you with questions. You blinked in confusion, trying to make sense of the situation as they gathered around you, concern etched on their faces.

"Are you okay? What happened?" they asked, their voices overlapping in their eagerness for answers.

With a gentle wave you motioned for them to give you a moment. As you attempted to get up from the bed, something fell to the floor with a soft thud. Curious, you leaned down to pick it up and found yourself holding a dark block in your hand. Upon closer inspection, you realized it was a book, and as you read the title, a grin etched onto your face.

'White Nights'

[sunny44]

Bye bye binky!!

Pairing: Lando Norris x Mom!Fem! Reader

Warnings: none I guess and English is not my first language

Summary: You and Lando are trying to get rid of your daughter’s binky.

The Norris household was in constant motion as always. Lyla, at two years old, was a curious and energetic child, always running from one side to the other, dragging her toys and, of course, her inseparable pacifier.

For Lando and me, the mission to get her to stop using the pacifier was becoming a saga.

Lando was sitting at the kitchen table, looking pensively at a list of methods we had thought of.

“What else can we try? It seems like we’ve done everything.”

I stopped washing the dishes and sighed, looking at him.

“I think we’ve tried all the possible advice. Let’s review?” Lando picked up the list and started reading.

“First, we tried the pacifier fairy approach.”

The Pacifier Fairy

One quiet night, Lyla was getting ready for bed. I sat next to her with a storybook.

“Lyla, did you know there’s a pacifier fairy?” I said excitedly as she looked at me curiously.

“A pacifier fairy?”

“Yes,” I replied. “She visits big boys and girls and takes their pacifiers to babies who need them. In return, she leaves a special gift.”

Lyla’s eyes sparkled. “A gift?”

“That’s right. How about leaving your pacifier under the pillow tonight?”

Lyla hesitated but ended up placing the pacifier under the pillow. The next morning, she found a small new toy in place of the pacifier, but the magic didn’t last. When night came, Lyla cried for the pacifier, and Lando and I ended up giving it back to her.

The Reward Calendar

The second attempt involved a colorful calendar on the fridge. Each day Lyla went without the pacifier, she would get a star sticker. After a week, she would get a big prize.

“Lyla, look how many stars you’ve already earned!” Lando said, pointing to the calendar.

Lyla smiled proudly.

“Wow, and o get a prize?”

“Yes, if you keep it up!” I replied, excited.

But halfway through the week, Lyla had a crying fit so intense that we had to give in again, giving her the pacifier.

The Substitution

Trying a new method, we decided to buy several toys and stuffed animals to offer as new comfort items for her.

“Look, Lyla, a new teddy bear!” I said, showing the brown teddy bear.

Lyla took the teddy bear but quickly dropped it and went back to the pacifier.

“I want my binky, Mommy.”

We tried various different toys, but nothing seemed to offer the same comfort as the pacifier for Lyla.

The Gradual Approach

We decided to adopt a gradual approach.

“Let’s limit the use of the pacifier to just bedtime,” suggested Lando.

“Good idea,” I agreed. “That way, she can get used to it slowly.”

During the day, we put the pacifier away and distracted Lyla with games and activities. However, each night, the separation was met with tears and whining. Once again, we found ourselves giving the pacifier to calm her down.

The Distraction Tactic

The last attempt involved constant distractions. Whenever Lyla asked for the pacifier, we offered some fun activity.

“Let’s paint a picture, Lyla?” I suggested, holding a set of watercolors.

For a while, this worked, but Lyla soon began to insist on the pacifier, even in the middle of activities.

Lando sighed as he finished reading the list.

“None of this worked.”

I approached him, placing my hand on Lando’s shoulder.

“I think it’s time to try something new. Something that will really make Lyla want to say goodbye to the pacifier on her own.”

And that’s how we came up with the balloon idea. The hope was that by turning the farewell into a celebration, Lyla would better accept the change. With a final sigh of determination, Lando and I prepared for the final attempt.

“Tomorrow morning I’ll go out to buy donuts for breakfast, which she loves, and the balloon. Then we’ll do it,” Lando said, and I agreed, finishing organizing the kitchen so we could go to bed.

…

The morning sun lit up our house, and the day was perfect for a celebration. Lando and I were sitting on the floor, surrounded by toys and building blocks. Lyla was beside us, firmly holding her pacifier. We had already planned everything. I arranged the donuts on a tray so that when she let go and the pacifier was gone, she would have something she loved to eat and perhaps help her forget.

“Lyla, look!” Lando said, kneeling beside our daughter. “How about we send your binky to the sky? So it can travel around and see new places.”

Lyla looked at the balloon and then at the pacifier, holding it even tighter.

“Daddy, I like my binky.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Lando replied softly, stroking Lyla’s hair. “But you’re a big girl now. And big girls don’t need a binky, right? Besides, it’ll be so much fun to watch the balloon fly!”

Lyla hesitated, but the idea of seeing the balloon rise seemed interesting. Finally, she let go of the pacifier and allowed Lando to tie it to the balloon. Lando handed the balloon to Lyla and smiled.

“Ready to let go, Lyla?” Lyla held the balloon with both hands, her eyes fixed on it.

“Ready.”

With one last look of hesitation, she let go of the balloon. We watched as it slowly rose higher and higher into the blue sky. For a moment, everything seemed fine, but then Lyla looked like she was about to cry—we could see her lips trembling. But then Lando and I started jumping and shouting with joy.

“Woohoo! Bye-bye, binky!” shouted Lando, raising his arms.

“You did it, Lyla! How amazing!” I shouted, clapping.

Lyla looked at her parents, surprised by their reaction. Slowly, a smile began to form on her face. She stood up and started jumping too, imitating her parents.

“Woohoo! Bye-bye, binky!” she repeated, laughing.

We continued to jump and laugh together, our joy spreading to Lyla. Gradually, she forgot about the pacifier and focused on the fun of the moment.

After a few minutes, we stopped to catch our breath, still laughing. Lando picked Lyla up and hugged her.

“I’m so proud of you, Lyla. You are very brave.” I joined the hug, kissing Lyla’s forehead.

“You did something amazing today, sweetheart. We are very happy.”

Lyla smiled, feeling proud.

“Does this mean I’m a big girl now?”

“Yes, you are,” Lando agreed, stroking her head.

After a few minutes, we went inside to eat the donuts and celebrate that we had finally said goodbye to the pacifier.

Bonus scene!

Landonorris instagram stories

“Bye Bye Lyla’s binky”

[cordeliawhohung]

In Limbo [Chapter 6]

mafia!141 masterlist | In Limbo masterlist | general masterlist | taglist | playlist

mafia!Simon Riley x fem!Reader

no good deed ever goes unpunished

cw: minor depictions of violence, shady activities, non-con touching/groping, non-con kissing, a lot of hurt, no comfort, playfully shitting on people from Birmingham.

wc: 5k

Small chunks of salt stick to the tips of Simon’s fingers, dusting them like fresh snow. You were right; a simple order of chips really isn’t enough to keep him going throughout the night. 

If anything, the saltiness makes him hungrier. It pummels his stomach until it’s grumbling at an annoying frequency, and it doesn’t do much to help the dryness in his mouth, either. He would have tried to order something if it wasn’t damn near impossible to get anyone to deliver to the club, and god forbid Price actually install a proper kitchen. But there would be no use for any sort of kitchen in a place like that, as it’s not good food that makes people swarm to the club like brainwashed zombies. It’s the booze. The music. A quickie in the stall. 

Shady activities in an alleyway. 

Simon huffs as he tosses the empty chip container in the small bin that sits in the corner of the surveillance room. Monitors upon monitors line the wall on the far side of the room, illuminating the concrete floor with a grey glow as faint music pulses through the air. He hates this room. Small, stuffy, and overheating with the computers and servers; he’d rather be out in the bitter November winter right about now. He’s out of luck tonight, because after nearly two weeks, Johnny’s research has finally bore fruit. 

About time, too. All Simon has been able to think about for the last few days has been you. Sometimes when he closes his eyes, he can still see the outline of your body that’s ingrained in his mind. Your limp, exhausted form as you rested in the conversation pit — too overwhelmed to keep conscious. He doesn’t know why you haunt him so terribly. Perhaps Mrs. Price is to blame; she knows how he never likes leaving a job half done. 

Or maybe it’s because you’re so… peculiar. For a woman he could only describe as being a skittish cat, you’ve suddenly melted into some other version of yourself. Your dislike of his proximity to you was obvious. Short words, awkward exchanges, yet the impulsive need to constantly get even with him, like you were trying to sweep up the breadcrumbs that lead to your door so he couldn’t follow you home. 

However, when he visited you a few days ago to check on your hands — as promised — you seemed to be a whole new person. Well, not entirely. If you were the world’s most skittish cat before, you had now become the feral stray that would maybe eat out of the palm of his hand if he didn’t look at you while you did it. He would ask you questions and you would respond with something more than simple words or an uneasy, anxiety induced joke. 

I’m just… glad you’re not doing it just for me.

He still wonders what you meant by that.

“Hey, you paying attention?” Johnny quips.

Simon blinks the glaze out of his eyes — one which still carries a now greenish-yellow hue around his cheekbone — and pushes the thoughts of you out of his mind as his attention fully settles on the monitors in front of him. A chair squeaks as Johnny settles back against worn, faux leather. He’s already got everything loaded up for whatever presentation he’s about to give. 

“Waitin’ on you, Johnny,” Simon playfully retorts. 

“Right,” he replies, rubbing his hands together, “so I’ve been trying to do some research on your dance partner here, and he’s a slippery fucker. Whoever he is, he’s good at covering his tracks up. At least through the methods I use to find people. Nothin’ on the media or anythin’ like that. Might as well not exist at all in the tech world.” 

A hum rumbles in Simon’s throat as he crosses his arms. “You drag me in here just to tell me you found nothing?” 

Johnny’s neck cranes to the side where he then looks up at him with a smirk. “Come on, Riley, when have I ever wasted your time?” 

Both men turn their attention back to the monitor as Johnny begins to wind and rewind through footage from a few days ago. Everything happens fast; speedy bodies darting across view, and the comedic speed up of light snow falling on the ground, but not sticking. Static streaks across the screen as the footage warps, before it suddenly pauses again. 

“Since I wasn’t able to find anything on this guy, I decided to sleuth through this video again, and I found something a little odd about this bloke here,” Johnny explains as he points to a male figure. Whoever it is, they’re faced away from the camera with their hands shoved deep into their pockets to stave off the cold. “He enters the alley before your pal does…”

The video plays at normal speed, and the faceless man vanishes behind the brick corner of the building a few meters down, just as Johnny described. He fast forwards, and everything plays at triple speed. Simon’s seen it all before. The man who accosted you enters the alleyway, and then you unfortunately come across him a bit later, but then something happens that he hadn’t bothered to pay attention to before. 

The man Johnny pointed out leaves the alley, this time facing the camera. He’s fiddling with something in his hands, and upon closer inspection, Simon’s able to tell it’s a wad of cash. It’s quickly stowed away in his pocket, and that’s when Johnny pauses the video. 

“He leaves as soon as Chip arrives, shovin’ cash into his pocket like he struck a deal,” he concludes. 

Tense fingers grip the back of the office chair as Simon leans over Johnny’s shoulder, squinting at the face on the screen. He scrutinizes every detail possible through the fuzzy footage, and his jaw flexes as he huffs. Square jaw, visible stubble, and eyes just as shifty as his character. 

“He looks familiar,” Simon mutters. 

“He outta. Fucker works here,” Johnny drops. 

A rancid, sour taste floods the back of Simon’s throat at that revelation, and his fingers tense to the point the imitation leather of the chair threatens to crack beneath his grip. Fury rises in the dark irises of his eyes as he leans back and grumbles. It seems like such a simple detail to miss. Something that he should have caught on to the other night, even in his sleep deprived state. If he had, he would have been several leaps closer to the real issue ages ago. 

“Who is he?” Simon demands. 

“Marcel Wylder,” Johnny answers as he twists in his chair to face him. “Works part time as one of the bartenders in the VIP lounge. Only really works on weekends, and according to the floor manager, he’s a good kid. Only twenty three years old. Always shows up on time, things of that sort.”

“Good kids don’t meddle with men who like to scare women in alleyways,” Simon retorts. 

Johnny shrugs. “Guess we all have our dark sides… some more dark than others.” 

It takes a few more moments for Simon to finally get himself to look away from the screen, and his eyes land on Johnny with a malice not meant for him. He’s not quite sure why this revelation angers him so. The sting of failure pricks at his skin too violently for him to ignore it. 

“He here tonight?” he then asks. 

“Yeah, he’s working on the second floor right now. Or, at least that’s where he was last, according to the cameras,” Johnny answers. He pauses to lick his lips and tilt his head at Simon. “You’re brewing something up in that head of yours. None of it looks too cheerful.” 

Swarthy eyes glare back at the monitor as Simon commits this new face and name to memory. Marcel Wylder. Twenty three. Square jaw. Stubble. Thin eyes. 

“Thanks for the intel, Johnny,” is all Simon says as he turns on his heels and walks towards the exit. 

A high pitched squeak echoes off the dull white walls of the room as Johnny spins in his chair to watch him leave. All he can make out are straight set shoulders, clenched fists, and an aura that demands blood. 

“Go easy on the kid!” Johnny calls after him, his voice too saccharine to truly mean it. 

There are very rare times when Simon Riley feels like a savior, but he can’t deny the fact that he feels like Moses when he’s walking through John’s club. All it takes is a single glance or a firm hand on someone’s shoulder, and the mass of pulsing bodies splits for him like the Red Sea. 

This trend continues as he jogs up the wrought iron spiral staircase that leads up to the second floor, and his path to Marcel is highlighted by the mob of patrons crowding the bar. He looks nicer tonight than he did the other night, and his square jaw almost appears defined now that he’s shaved that fuzz off of his face. Pristine dress clothes mark him as a perfect employee as he quickly fills orders and stuffs tips in his pocket all with a thankful smile. Doesn’t look like he’s doing half bad for himself, considering there’s a near topless woman serving booze next to him.

“Marcel!”

Simon’s voice booms louder than the bass of the music, and is so sharp all other sounds nearly seem to cease for a moment. That pathetic sod glances up from his work like a schoolboy being scolded, and his face grows pallid. All it takes is a simple gesture of his fore and middle fingers to get the man to slip from behind the bar and join him in the crowd. Smart kid. Everyone knows not to mess with Riley. 

He leads the boy out behind the building like a lamb to slaughter. Just like a good offering, he’s quiet. Hardly questions anything besides an is everything alright? to which Simon doesn’t respond. Frigid wind attempts to cut through the formidable fabric of Simon’s clothes, but it seems to really do a number on Marcel. Hardly even ten seconds out the door and the poor boy is wrapping his arms around himself and trying hard not to shiver lest he look pathetic in front of the head of security. 

A flickering security light is the only source of illumination in the shady alley, and even in the bleakness of the winter the garbage spoils and festers with a stomach-churning odor. Marcel stands cornered with his back to the wall, and he watches with trepidation as Simon’s hand dives into his pocket. Relief doesn’t fill his face until he realizes it was only a pack of cigarettes he was searching for, and not something nefarious. 

The cancer-stick sits at home between Simon’s lips as he lights it and puffs out a steady stream of smoke until it’s well lit. A gentle breeze whisks it away into the air where it quickly dissipates among the smog smothered stars. Once he’s satisfied, he holds the pack out toward Marcel. 

“You smoke?” he asks. 

“Yes sir,” Marcel answers. 

Simon shakes the pack, and a smile pulls at the boy’s lips.

“Cheers.” 

As Marcel’s trembling hands work on igniting the lighter, Simon takes a better look at him. There’s hardly a single scar on him, and his hands are much too soft to truly be a part of any violent syndicate. Still, anyone can be a mole, even if they’re a smoothed face kid. Besides, he’s got a Brummie accent, and Simon fucking hates Birmingham. 

“What d’ya do outside of workin’ here?” Simon asks. It’s kind enough. Simple, polite conversation — but there’s nothing civil about the look in his eyes as he chews on the filter of his cigarette. 

“School, mostly,” Marcel replies. 

Simon hums. “Uni?”

“Greenwich.”

“Smart.” 

Another exhale of smoke dances between Simon’s lips as he huffs, dark eyes still trained on Marcel. He’s damn near shivering out of his skin as the black fabric of his uniform is designed to whisk away sweat and keep you cool in warm, humid temperatures. No matter, the boy can warm up soon enough — Simon intends for this interaction to be quick. 

“Since you’re a smart kid, you’ll do well to be truthful with me then, yeah?” Simon prompts as he flicks a bit of ash onto the ground. “That bloke you met up with the other night? Who is he?”

Trembling muscles suddenly freeze, and the cigarette seems stuck against Marcel’s lips. There’s no exhale of smoke, or the embers brightening at the tip to show he’s inhaling; there’s nothing. 

“Bloke?” he repeats. 

“The fucker you met up with in the alley a week or two ago,” Simon snaps, already impatient. 

Marcel jumps and the cigarette falls free from between his lips and fingers. It sputters and whines on the ground, where the boy quickly puts it out of its misery by stomping on the embers until they’re no longer glowing. 

“Right, erm, Andrei I think it was.”

“And what did he want?” Simon presses. 

“Well, he had this picture of someone. Some bitch he didn’t want hanging around here I suppose. Was asking me questions about her and stuff,” Marcel replies earnestly. 

A bright pink dusts the tips of Simon’s ears, but it’s impossible to tell if it’s from the cold biting his skin, or the rage boiling through his veins. “What did she look like?” 

“She was dressed mostly in black, kind of similar to our serving uniforms. It looked like it was taken through the window of some restaurant, but I don’t know which one, I swear.” 

Sapori. Teeth nearly cut through the filter of the cigarette as Simon’s jaw clenches, and he rips the thing out of his mouth to toss it on the ground, not even bothering to stomp it out. This man — this Andrei — is getting too close to you for comfort. He thinks back to the way you reacted in the alley; how petrified you were. A terrible thought plagues his mind as he wonders what else has been done to you to get you to fear someone so terribly. 

Simon doesn’t like where his mind is wandering. 

“What questions did he ask about her?” Simon continues.

“Dunno, just regular stuff? I suppose? Like when she was here and who she was with. Things like that,” Marcel answers.

Simon raises an eyebrow. “And?”

“And I told him the truth. About how she was here on Halloween. I mean, I didn’t see much of her so there wasn’t a lot I could tell him. Honest. I think he was mostly looking for confirmation that she was here at all. He didn’t ask for anything else after that and sent me on my way.” 

Acid eats away at Simon’s stomach as the chips he ate before this seem to have a hard time settling with the heavy ire disrupting his mood. Dense feet scrape against the ground as he takes a few steps closer to Marcel, who puts his hands up in defense as if that’s going to do anything against the raging storm barreling straight for him.

“That’s it, that’s everything, honest! I swear!” he pleads. 

“I know. I believe you,” Simon says through gritted teeth. 

Worn knuckles crash into the tense flesh just underneath Marcel’s sternum, stealing the very breath from his lungs. He sputters miserably as his back crashes against the brick wall behind him, but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t breathe. A deep purple hue stains his face as his body begins to jolt and spasm uncontrollably. It’s impossible to keep himself upright with the wind knocked out of him, and he slowly slides onto the ground with his hands over his stomach like he’s trying to stop blood flowing through a wound. 

“You’re a smart boy, so listen close,” Simon says as he crouches to Marcel’s new height. “Be careful who you call a bitch ‘round here, because if I hear you refer to a woman like that again, I’ll knock your goddamn teeth out, ya hear?” 

Still sputtering and heaving, Marcel nods.

“Good. Now, that woman Andrei showed you? Forget her. She doesn’t exist to you. If he comes ‘round here again askin’ about it, you tell him you haven’t seen her, because you won’t. You’ve got nothin’ for him, yeah? Nod,” Simon continues, and Marcel complies. “If anyone ever starts askin’ about any of our patrons or workers, you bring that shit right to me. Don’t you ever go ‘round behind my fuckin’ back again. You think there’s anything that happens here that I don’t know about? Huh?” 

After an eternity of struggle, Marcel is finally able to get a good gasp in, and a few subsequent breaths after that. That bright purple begins to fade from the paleness of his face, and he quivers and shakes his head. 

“N-No sir,” he stutters. “Sor-ry…” 

“Good, and don’t fuckin’ forget that.” 

Simon pushes himself up to his feet and looks down at Marcel as he writhes and chokes on his achy diaphragm. He haphazardly digs around his pocket for his pack before he retrieves a single cigarette and tosses it toward the pathetic lump of a man at his feet. It bounces on the slimy ground before rolling to a stop with specks of dirt sticking to the filter — a shitty attempt at an apology.

“Take a breather, then get back to work,” he orders while he turns to leave, but Simon only gets a few steps away before he pauses. A stiff finger points at Marcel as his attention is quickly brought back to the boy. “Keep in mind, that’s not even half of what I’ve got.” 

Marcel’s pathetic response is drowned out by the uproar of music that fills Simon’s ears as he returns back inside of the club. A thick wall of heat melts the frost off of his skin as his brooding figure cuts through the crowd like a hot knife through butter. His blood continues to boil with clenched fists and heavy breaths. It’s all consuming. Swallowing him whole. Simon doesn’t like being angry. He feels too much like his late father, and sometimes he fears that he looks like him, too. 

Violent, angry, sinister — his intimidating build and threatening demeanor have always been something he’s tried to fight against. A stereotype he’s been trying to break. Yet now that he’s gotten one step closer to uncovering the monsters hiding in your shadows, he’s grateful for it. For once, it’s a tool he can use to his advantage. 

Something he can use to help you. 

Except while Simon is busy taking baby steps through this web of lies, you’re already in the maw of the beast. Frayed string tangles around your fingers as trembling hands attempt to keep themselves busy with a solo game of Cat’s Cradle. It’s already the 25th again, and just like every other month, you’re in perfect position. Sitting properly on a bench with a wad of cash tucked neatly into the envelope that sits inconspicuously on your lap. This is a dance you know well. A dance you don’t think you’ll ever be free from.

Washers and dryers hum around you and clash terribly with the ringing of your ears and the violent pounding of your heart. Trepidation plagues you worse than it usually does on your payment days because you don’t know how Marco is going to react about what Simon did to Andrei. You keep going through possibilities in your mind. Things you need to say to keep him off of Simon’s trail. Ways to apologize to keep him from getting upset. You’ve gone through every option your mind can come up with, yet it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. There’s something you’re still missing. 

But you’ve run out of time. 

Frosty air slices through the warmth of the laundromat and you try your best not to shiver even though you’re already shaking. Marco's cologne drifts along the air, mixing in dissonance with the fragrance of soap and fabric softener. Green eyes scan the small room as he takes note of the single mom folding clothes in the back of the building as her young son watches videos on her phone. It should be comforting to know that you’re not alone — but you’ve learned that you’re never safe, not even when all the cameras in the city are trained on you. 

Your attention stays firmly on your hands as Marco waltzes up and makes himself at home next to you on the bench. The scent of him scorches your nose as his arm wraps around your shoulders. You try not to jump as he involuntarily pulls you closer to him, and you find your fingers clamping down hard on the string in your hands. 

“Long time, no see,” he greets. 

He’s friendlier than he normally is, and that terrifies you. His thumb rubs at your arm through the fabric of your jumper and you feel your heart leap up into your throat. He knows. He knows, and you’re about to pay for it. 

“Did you hear about our good friend, Andrei? Got scuffed up pretty bad the other night,” Marco then prompts.

You swallow your heart down your throat and back into your chest. “Is he alright?” 

“Define alright,” he hums. Long legs spread apart and bump into your thigh, crowding you further like he’s trying to lock you in a cage of flesh. “Busted lip, broken nose. Face is so goddamn swollen he sounds like he’s got a cold.” 

Images of Andrei’s face from the other night sear your mind. Bright red blood trickling down his lips, an appalled expression on his face as if he had never met anyone able to put him in his place before. You should have known then that you wouldn’t walk away unscathed from something like that. You never do.

“What were you even doing there, anyway? At that club?” Marco then asks. 

“I was delivering food,” you answer truthfully. 

“You a delivery driver now? Thought you were a waitress,” he digs. 

“Hostess…” you correct. 

“Who were you delivering to?”

“My friend… her husband owns the club and she was hungry… so… I, well…” you lie. 

Firm fingers dig into your arm as Marco pulls you closer, and you try to keep your bottom lip from trembling. “Ah, right. John fucking Price.”

Shocked, you finally bring yourself to look at him. There’s faint amusement on his face as he stares at the washers in front of him. A mixture of soapy water and colorful clothes dance around in the machine as it gently spins and agitates the fabric. 

“You know him?” you venture to ask. 

A smirk pulls on his lips as he turns his attention to you, and your blood screams at how close his face is to yours. “Don’t worry about that, babe.” 

His eyes capture yours in a way that makes it impossible to look away, like you’re an unfortunate deer caught in the headlights of a car. He wanders down. Down, down, down until he catches sight of the unmarked envelope on your thighs. He grabs it and isn’t at all courteous about where his fingers brush in the process. 

“How did that guy even know you were in that alley? The man who fought with Andrei?” Marco asks.

As he waits for your response, he hits the envelope against the top of your thigh as if he’s bored. Tap, tap, tap. Each time it touches you, you feel your stomach twist. 

“I, uhm, asked the same thing. Said he heard us. Thought I needed help. Guess he was the bouncer outside the VIP entrance during that time. M-My friend said he’s the head of security,” you reply, weaving truth and lies seamlessly together. 

“Yeah, I know who the bastard is,” Marco mutters in reply. 

Something in you wants to press him for an explanation of what he means, but you keep your lips sealed as he folds up the envelope and shoves it into the pocket of his jeans. Your gaze finally breaks away from him as you glance down at your hands. They’re almost fully healed — nothing but faint scars and scabs. You untangle the string from your fingers as you begin to wind it up, hopeful that he’ll leave soon. 

“Well, it doesn't matter. I’m sure it was all one big misunderstanding. No use in getting worked up over it, pet,” he sighs. A pause follows his words, one that’s interrupted by quiet giggling of the child still playing on his mothers phone as she folds clothes somewhere to your right. “Still, some damage was done. Andrei’s been an annoying fuck ever since the altercation. As much as I would love to let you get off easy, it doesn’t really look too good if I’m letting some sweet, pretty thing walk all over me, now does it?” 

Your eyes flutter shut as he speaks, and you attempt to mentally prepare yourself for whatever blow he’s about to deal to you. Of course it was naive to think you’d get out of this easily. In fact, you had planned to be hurt in some type of way. All you wanted to do was throw Marco off of Simon’s trail, and though it feels like you’ve succeeded for now, you’re not quite sure if you even accomplished that much. 

“It doesn’t,” you pitifully agree. 

Marco smirks. “Because of that, your monthly payments will be increased by five hundred starting next month.” 

The very blood coursing through your veins turns to ice, and tears blur your vision when you open your eyes. Five hundred. A brutal panic wreaks havoc in your chest. You want to sob, and scream, and thrash but his hand is still on your arm, keeping you chained to him. Gluttonous fingers stain your skin and his leg is still pressed against yours and you can feel the disgusting warmth of his body and you can’t. You can’t. You want to rage, but you’re cornered and trapped, and there’s nothing you can do about it. 

“B-But that’s… that’s fifteen hundred a month, I… I’ve hardly- I can’t make that.”

You’re crying now, and you hate it. Hate how weak and pathetic you are. White hot tears cook your cheeks as they travel down your face, and you’re trying your best not to hiccup. Suddenly, you’re a kid all over again. Fawning, trying not to flinch as his hand reaches for your jaw to turn your face to him. His breath smells minty as it fans across the wet streaks on your face — he’s so close you can almost taste the menthol. There’s a small frown on his lips, something that almost looks sincere, but his eyes are too hungry for it to be real. 

“Look at you,” he shushes. His hand moves up to cup your cheek as his arm keeps steady and firm around your shoulders.“Getting all upset over this? If it means that much to you, we can always negotiate lower, babe.” 

It takes an eternity for his lips to meet yours, and once they do, everything freezes. The only thing you can comprehend is the ringing in your ears and warm shame on your skin. It’s degrading. Humiliating. A terrible reminder that you’ve never really belonged to yourself. Never really belonged to anyone or anything but him.

Things get worse when his tongue pushes past your lips. Everything becomes ten times louder — the washers and dryers, the video on that damn phone, Marco’s slight moan against your skin. You make a pitiful attempt to fight back by pressing your hands on his chest, but he only pulls you closer, holding you tight like a coiling snake. 

Something in you demands blood. You feel obligated to bite down, to sink your teeth into his tongue until the mint in your mouth is replaced with iron and copper. When you were a kid, your dad taught you how to throw a punch. You wonder what he would think if he saw you now, too afraid to fight back. 

Once he’s had his fill of your fear, Marco pulls away, but you still can’t breathe. Using his thumb, he wipes a stray tear from your face, and you can tell by his slick snicker that he savors the feeling. 

“For that, we’ll drop it down to three fifty,” he whispers. He places another kiss against your lips — something chaste and quick — before he releases you and stands to his feet. “See you next month, pet.” 

Marco leaves just how he arrived — with a gust of bitter, frigid wind. He’s taken something from you that you won’t get back, and it’s left you feeling empty on that bench. So void, so barren of anything, that you can’t even bring yourself to move. All you can do is sit there and curse yourself for being just as worthless as the day you were when you first got yourself stuck in this mess. 

Shuffling sounds on your right, and you nearly jump out of your skin and look up at the source of the sound. It’s that lady and her son. You’d nearly forgotten about them. A small basket of neatly folded clothes sits on her hip as she’s holding the boy's hand to lead him out of the laundromat. There’s a look of disgust on her face, like she can smell every single sin that’s ever been forced upon you. As if you are at fault for the grotesque display of affection you were made to endure. 

As she exits, you try not to think about why she didn’t help you. If anything, you’re grateful for it. No more favors. No random acts of kindness. It never turns out well. No good deed ever goes unpunished. Instead, you rise to your feet a few minutes after she leaves, wiping your face clean before you brave the cold streets of London to make your way back home. You promise yourself that once you get home, you’ll wash your mouth out with soap, and then call Sapori to see if you can pick up an extra shift for tonight. 

No matter what, you can’t take Marco’s offer — that terrible promise he made you all those years ago. Maybe one day you won’t have a choice, but for now, you’re content on working until your hands bleed.

[undiscovered-horizon]

[Zoro is jealous of how impressed you are with another man's strength. A few insults and broken breezeblocks later, he makes sure he's the only man you have eyes on.]

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Roronoa Zoro is a man too busy to boast. He perceives his skills and attributes as a means to an end and not a goal in itself; achieving unmatched swordsmanship is but a method of becoming the world's greatest swordsman.

It's completely useless to waste one's potential only to earn fame and admiration. If one sees their abilities as a goal, they tend to abandon their growth once the goal is achieved, never discovering what they can really do. Therefore, boasting is a manmade border between the current state of things and the wonderful possibilities.

Or so he tells himself.

The crowd cheers again as the blue-haired boy breaks another stack of planks. Each time he adds one more obstacle, the mob of onlookers is sure that this time, he's bound to fail. They've been wrong so far.

Zoro and you have been watching the show from affair but only because you refused to walk away. Sure, on your adventures you have seen people or unimaginable skills and attributes. Nevertheless, the man on the makeshift stage is just that - a man. No Devil Fruit, no canons-for-arms or anything of this sort. Just a person with determination and years of practice.

"Damn, that's some strength," you say in awe. "It's amazing."

Zoro only scoffs, scowling while he stands with his arms crossed. "Come on, this is nothing."

"Oh, right, breaking a stack of five wooden planks with your bare fist is just a regular Tuesday, eh?"

"Definitely not for a twig like him," he answers while still glaring at the boastful plank-breaker. "A gust of wind could break his bones."

Something about his huffing and puffing doesn't sit right with you. After all, why does he care in the first place? Zoro is not the kind of person to be interested in things that are not directly connected to him. It's almost as if...

Is he jealous of the attention?

"You know what, Zoro?" When you turn to look at him, he notices the challenging glint in your eyes. You're up to no good, aren't you? "I'd love to see you try and break even one plank."

He scoffs again but this time he looks almost offended at the implication. "I wouldn't even get out of bed for one."

"That's not a good measure." You shake your head decisively. "It's already hard to make you get up." Then, an idea sparks in your thoughts - something he's sure not to reject. "Let's do it like this. If you can one-up that guy, I'll do whatever you want."

Zoro's brown eyes stare into yours with a new intensity. He seems to be trying to guess how serious you are about your promise. "Anything goes?" he asks suspiciously.

"Nothing that will tarnish my dignity." As a warning, you point your finger at him. "Or dirty my shirt."

Then, to your utmost satisfaction, he gives you a smirk beaming with confidence.

"You're going to regret this."

"I hope so," you answer.

He clenches his jaw at your frivolous tone, his mind racing in a thousand different directions at once. What do you mean you "hope to regret" your wager? What exactly do you think he'll ask of you?

No matter the answers to his questions, Zoro has found a new source of motivation inside him. He can ask anything. As nice as that sounds, and he's sure to let his imagination run amok, the more satisfying prize will be the look of awe you're bound to give him. If you're impressed with this boastful twig of a man, how dazzled will you be with Zoro when he beats him? Maybe you'll finally stop looking at other men like they're actually worth even a second of your time or a speck of your attention.

"Hey, wood boy!" Zoro exclaims at the top of his lungs while making his way through the excited crowd towards the makeshift stage. "Let's see who's stronger."

"A brave challenger appears!" The blue-haired man announces. Whispers erupt among the onlookers. "Or maybe he's stupid?" he directs his question at his fans. Then, when Zoro enters the stage, the man looks at him with a feeling of superiority smeared across his face. "I'll have you know, I'm the local champion."

Up close, the blue-haired man looks even less impressive than from the ground. He's rather scrawny compared to men of similar strength and he could definitely use a long bath. Zoro is almost offended that you'd look at this poser of a clown instead of him.

"Only local?" Zoro asks. He erupts in laughter, making his opponent's expression visibly falter. "Not much of a title. I've seen rocks bigger than this island."

The whispers turn into loud conversations as half of the crowd demands Zoro to take back his words and the other half begs for a showdown to see who's the true master between them.

"Ambitious!" the blue-haired man exclaims with fake casualness, clearly trying to hide his own uneasiness. "That's what I like to see. But I must warn you that breaking wood with the sheer power of your bare fist is neither easy nor simple. Are you sure you can manage?"

Zoro laughs again. His posture only grows with confidence while the other man seems to be becoming smaller with each of Zoro's insults. "Wood is for children."

The blue-haired man swallows nervously. Sweat trickles down his neck. "Alright then." He clasps his hands together, rubbing them to ease the arousing tension. "What do you propose?"

"Breezeblocks."

The crowd audibly gasps and you're not any different. To break something that can render someone unconscious, if not dead, without having to use much strength? Even for someone like Zoro, the suggestion seems more than audacious. True, you wanted to see him prove his bold talk but not break his hands.

But before the blue-haired man can protest or diverge the discussion, a group of eager men bring a load of breezeblocks on stage. Their eyes shine with impatience and desire to see uncommon strength as they take away the wooden boards and set up the first breezeblock for each of them to break. The hollow bricks are placed atop regular, clay bricks that the blue-haired man has used to lay the planks on.

With a light gesture of his hand, Zoro allows the apparent master to begin. The man stretches his arms and cracks his joints. Despite being visibly experienced in this art, there is a noticeable nervousness in his movements, too. As though he's not as confident as he was five minutes ago.

Measuring one or two times beforehand, the local champion slams his fists on the breezeblock. A muffled thud resounds and the crowd falls silent. Then, a loud grunt fills the tense air but not a speck of cement is lifted. The breeze block did not break but considering the agony on the man's face and the deep red of his hand, something surely did break.

Zoro laughs for the third time. Strangely enough, he seems almost suspiciously laid-back. He reaches for the blue-haired man's unbroken breezeblock and places it atop his. If the crowd was silent before, it's deathly quiet now. They don't even dare breathe, awaiting the resolution of this unforeseen wager.

His eyes meet yours and never stray as he punches the stack of breezeblock. They break, fall and crumble on the stagefloor. Zoro doesn't look phased in any way, nor does his hand look to be injured. Judging by his casual attitude, he can easily break a lot more than just two breezeblocks. Maybe one day he'll find out but not at the moment - that's not the point of his little show of strength.

Some people try to accost him or talk to him as he makes his way back to you but Zoro's usual glares and silence quickly mitigate their enthusiasm and soon the mob of onlookers just cheers among themselves.

"Alright, I'm impressed," you admit with a nod. "In capital letters."

"So, anything I want, huh?" He can't help the smile curving his lips. It's a big word that you've used - a little too big for Zoro's imagination because it too happily strayed in directions that might break his heart permanently if you reject him.

"I suppose you do deserve compensation for holding yet another title of a champion. The dreadful weight of success," you say in a dramatic tone. "Now, what is this 'anything' you've decided on?"

Truthfully, he hasn't decided yet. If this "more than friends, less than lovers" situation he has with you was a game of chess, he's just made his opening move. You played back and put him in a place where there are simply too many options to reconsider. So what choice does he have to make to have you in a checkmate?

[decembermidnight]

Don't lose your focus

Summary: As a Jedi Padawan fighting during the Clone Wars, you and your Master are used to teaming up with Clones. But none are as intriguing as Clone Force 99 and their leader, Sergeant Hunter. Sparks fly immediately and it's difficult to keep your focus. With the mission complete, perhaps the two of you will finally give in and indulge in your desires...

Pairing: Hunter x Jedi!fem!reader

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: smut, 18+ MDNI, Dom!Hunter, use of pet names (sweetheart), shameless flirting, mentions of alcohol consumption, masculinity kink, voice kink, light choking, hand kink, body worship, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, orgasm delay, creampie

A/N: This is the result of me watching The Bad Batch while ovulating. This is (probably) not how the Force works but your honour I was horny. Thank you to my dear @thefrogdalorian for the immense help and support! I love you so much! Amazing divider by @saradika-graphics At the end of the fic you'll find the links to some amazing Hunter fanarts I found here on Tumblr! These were such an inspiration when writing and I wanted to thank and credit the artists for creating such amazing pieces!

Masterlist - Read on Ao3 - Read Part 2 here!

Another day, another dangerous mission in the Outer Rim.

Nothing new for you and your Master who are used to leading these missions successfully. The only difference is that this time you'll be assisted by Experimental Unit Clone Force 99. It’s the first time you even heard about them, but your superiors assured you they’re best suited for this job. A highly-skilled squad of defective clones with desirable mutations? Sounds interesting.

Apparently, The Bad Batch, as they call themselves, despise rules and protocol and adopt unusual methods to get the job done… Much like you and your Master.

Their ship has just made a bumpy landing on the field, causing a fuss. You watch curiously as the squad descends the ramp. There are four of them, and they undoubtedly look badass in their black armour.

The first one – their leader, you assume – removes his helmet and... damn. Damn. He's hot, with a confident look in his deep brown eyes. He also has long, wavy, dark hair; a feature which has always been a weakness of yours. His face is half covered in a tattoo that resembles a skeleton. He's undoubtedly the most charming of the Batch, and also the most attractive clone you’ve ever come across.

“I’m Sergeant Hunter,” he rasps as he greets you and your Master. His voice is deep and husky, very different from those of all the other clones you’ve met so far.

After introducing himself, Hunter moves to quickly describe the peculiarities that make each of the members of the team unique. As you stand back to observe them, you can’t help thinking just how much fun they are. Wrecker (the strong one) is getting reluctantly lectured by Tech (the smart one) while Crosshair (the laconic and lethal sniper) stands there in silence. He reminds you of your Master so much.

As much as you enjoy observing the rest of the squad, you find your gaze returns to Hunter, the clone with enhanced senses. You are unable to tear your eyes away from him. You know you have to keep it together, but you can’t help eating him with your eyes. Your gaze lingers on his body, on the way his pauldrons make his shoulders even broader, how much the black colour of his armour suits him. 

You have just begun fantasising about the way his strong body would look without the armour when you notice Hunter staring directly at you. Busted. You lock eyes for a few seconds and you just know that he understands the nature of the thoughts you’re having about him. Then, your pounding heart skips a beat when Hunter winks at you. It is a split-second gesture that is over so quickly amidst the chaos of the conversation, a little secret between the two of you. You smile flirtatiously at him in response.

The whole group begins heading towards their ship, The Marauder. While the rest of the Batch and your Master head up the ramp towards the ship that will take you to the rendezvous point, you and Hunter pause at the bottom.

“I’m afraid I haven’t caught your name, sweetheart?” Hunter asks, breaking the silence with his deep, raspy voice.

"I am a Jedi, not a sweetheart," you point out teasingly and look at him with crossed arms, trying to sound tough.

"A Padawan," he reminds you with a smirk on his face.

You watch curiously as Hunter takes your braid – the unmistakable sign of your rank as an apprentice – between his fingers. He gently rolls it between his gloved finger and thumb contemplatively as his brown eyes meet your gaze once again. 

"I technically outrank you, Sergeant," you say, challenging him.

"You do, Commander," Hunter nods, but makes no effort to move his hand away from your braid, or to interrupt eye contact.

Hunter can tell that you don’t mind the gesture. As if to push the boundaries further, he moves his hand from your braid to gently place it on your cheek. The leather of his glove feels soft against your face. You are stunned that a seasoned soldier such as him can actually be so gentle in the way he touches you.  

You can feel the tension coming from the two of you, a simmering fire somewhere deep within. It's only a matter of time before it boils over. You look at each other straight in the eyes, neither one of you daring to look away.

Just as you're about to tease him with yet another witty reply, you hear the sound of footsteps at the top of the ramp.

"Hey, Hunter, are you gonna come with us or what?!" Wrecker shouts, abruptly interrupting your shameless flirting.

"On my way," Hunter replies, without breaking eye contact with you.

His intense gaze lingers on you for a few more seconds before he looks at you apologetically and turns to head up to the ramp and onto the Marauder.

As soon as Hunter turns away from you, you realise just how hard your heart is thundering in your chest. His gaze was so intense that it made you forget to breathe properly. So much for the Jedi breathing techniques. It turns out if there is a handsome man with dark eyes flirting with you, they lose all effectiveness. You take a deep breath, filling your burning lungs with oxygen. 

When you enter the ship, you are still trembling. As you take a seat next to your Master, you try to ignore his accusatory glare. You feel his eyes burning into your soul as the guilt threatens to overwhelm you, even though nothing too scandalous happened.

As the Marauder enters hyperspace, your Master takes a seat on the cold metallic floor in an isolated area of the ship. Meditating before battle is a ritual he always follows and you immediately join him. It can help you shift your focus back to where it should be – on the mission. Only, you can't focus. 

Instead of your mind becoming one with the Force, you're highly attuned to the actions of the members of the squad. It is as though you can see them as if you were standing before them: Tech studying the holo-maps, Crosshair cleaning his sniper rifle, Wrecker taking a nap, and of course, Hunter. He is mindlessly playing with his vibroknife as he slouches on a crate. 

You are entranced by the way his fingers move across the handle and the blade. Maker, the movement of his hand and fingers – you can't focus on anything else as he makes the knife masterfully swirl between them. There's something so erotic about the way he plays with it. Your mind wanders to think about his hands roaming on your body, slipping between your thighs, skillfully rubbing your clit. You fantasise about how quickly Hunter would make you come, how hard your orgasm would be as it tore through you, leaving you a trembling wreck.

Your focus then goes to his muscular thighs. Hunter’s legs are spread wide and he looks so effortlessly masculine. The aura of confidence he radiates as he comfortably sits there, taking up the entire crate as he lounges on top of it, gives you even more thoughts that are unbecoming of a Padawan. It makes you almost dizzy with want as you think about how much you want to straddle him and ride him into ecstasy.

“Are you done?” your Master’s cold voice interrupts your filthy train of thought with a brief and concise message through the Force.

He heard your thoughts. Each and every single one. Your Master caught you red-handed. How embarrassing.

You are too mortified to even mumble an apology, through the Force or otherwise. Instead, you sit there wishing you could be anywhere else in the galaxy as you feel the heat rise in your cheeks and pull your hood up to hide your flustered face in your cape.

Luckily, before the awkward moment can continue for any longer, Tech announces the imminent jump out of hyperspace. You still cannot bear to make eye contact with your Master, shrinking into your blessedly baggy cape as you begin the descent into the planet’s atmosphere...

The mission was a success – you and your Master worked your magic with the precious support of Clone Force 99. What seemed like a desperate operation, turned out to be an extremely important victory for the Republic. Training with your Master has been so hard, but damn did that pay off. You slayed all your enemies elegantly and effortlessly, just like he taught you. The whole Bad Batch congratulated you two. Wrecker was especially impressed, electing the two of you as his favourite Jedi. What an honour. Hunter also invited you and your Master to celebrate the victory by having a drink all together in a cantina.

Just as you’re about to enter the cantina and join the Bad Batch, your Master calls your name. You stop in your tracks, scared that he might reprimand you for the way you acted today. You begin panicking and thinking back to what happened in guilt…

When you and your Master had taken off your heavy capes before engaging in battle, you noticed Hunter couldn't keep his eyes off you. You were wearing a skin-tight dark suit, after all.

It was a fact you decided to exploit after Hunter had given his squad their orders for the mission. You walked away swaying your hips, making sure you gave him a great opportunity to look at your ass. You remember how you could feel his eyes glued to it. You could also feel his desire for you. It was impossible for him to hide; it permeated him, radiated from him. Maker, you love making him crumble.

You think back to the way Crosshair rasped, "Hunter, don't lose your focus.”  You are certain that is what your Master is about to scold you for.

Instead, you watch in shock as a half smile appears on your Master’s face, something you don't see very often.

“You did good today. I’m proud of you,” he nods.

Since when does your Master pay you compliments like this?

“Th-Thank you,” you stammer, caught off-guard by how unexpected his praise is.

“You fulfilled your duties as a Jedi. Now, go and have your fun.”

You don’t have time to respond before he turns on his heel and walks away, cape billowing in the breeze. You know your Master doesn’t often like to stick around after missions, often needing some quiet time to himself to decompress and meditate. You let him go, knowing that he will find his way back to the Marauder before it departs, as he always does.

As you step into the Cantina, a smile spreads on your face when you notice the Bad Batch sitting at a table with a full flagon of booze and an empty seat for you to toast your success. You and Hunter lock eyes again as he invites you to sit in that spot close to him.

Hunter loses no time in placing his arm around your shoulders while smiling at you. You lean into his embrace, feeling comforted and protected.  The warm presence of his arm around you makes you smile contentedly. It feels so good to let the guard down for once, especially if you're in the arms of a handsome, strong and charming man such as Hunter.

As the night goes on, the three other members of The Bad Batch keep conversing with each other, giving you and Hunter the opportunity to speak privately. It’s as though the background noise fades out. You don't even bother focusing on the discourse the others are having. It’s just you and Hunter flirting shamelessly now.

“You know, I've never seen a ship like yours. I wish I had time to properly explore it... Thoroughly," you flirt with him while draining the last few dregs in your flagon.

"Want me to give you a tour, sweetheart?" he says with a smile on his face, perfectly understanding your intentions.

"Would be cool, yeah," you reply.

Hunter offers you his hand and you gladly accept it with a mischievous smile.

Just as you stand, you feel the alcohol has definitely kicked in. You’re not drunk though, just a little bit tipsy, enough to make you brave and go get exactly what you want.

As soon as you and Hunter get out of the cantina and find yourselves alone in the dark alley, you both give into the instincts you tried to suppress all day long. Hunter pins you to the wall as you pull him closer at the same time, until you join in a passionate, longing kiss.

You welcome his tongue in your mouth as his hands wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him. His touch and the way he kisses you are so confident that you clench around nothing, holding him tighter as you moan in his mouth. Maker, you want him. His whole body jolts when he feels that, pinning you harder against the wall, mentally cursing the armour that is preventing him from feeling the softness of your body against his. 

He stops kissing you just so he can look at how stunning you are under the moonlight, hot and flustered after that first, heavy session of making out.

"Look at you. So beautiful," he whispers as he cups your face with his hand, the other one still lingering around your waist. Hunter is treating you like the most precious thing in the galaxy now that he can finally have you all for himself. You lean into his gentle touch as he takes in all the features of your face, especially the way your eyes glimmer with admiration and arousal for him.

You look at his deep, dark and expressive brown eyes and the strong, masculine features of his face that make you throb with need. Your hand caresses his cheek, following the lines of his skeleton tattoo and the contour of his chiseled jaw. He observes you as a sweet smile appears on your face, making you look irresistible and drawing his lips closer to yours once again…

"Hey! Where's Hunter?!" you hear Wrecker shout from inside of the tavern, just as your lips are mere inches apart.

You and Hunter both laugh as you resume the kissing. It's like the whole galaxy stops existing. For a soldier who has seen nothing but war, his kisses are to die for. Your tongues twirl in each other's mouths and it's like his greedy lips can't ever get enough of yours. His mouth is hot like a damn furnace as he takes all the time in the galaxy to worship you with his lips, letting his hands wander throughout your body. You're getting soaked already, feeling your arousal slowly dripping down your legs as a throbbing need pulsates between your thighs. You moan in his mouth as you dig your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. The kiss is getting deeper and more passionate as you go on. 

Hunter's lips start to trail down to your neck, making you sigh deeply as he covers it in kisses. Your scent drives him wild. He can smell your pheromones, feeling you're unmistakably full of desire. He can't resist and just gives a swift lick from the base of your neck to your ear that makes you sharply stifle a gasp, arching your back and tightening your grip on his hair.

"Let's go to the Marauder, shall we?" he rasps in your ear, a voice full of lust that gives you goosebumps.

"Y-yes…" you stutter, feeling light-headed with arousal and being incapable of hiding it.

He offers you his hand as you enter the ship. The two of you cut a clumsy path through the Marauder towards Hunter’s bunk, frequently taking breaks where Hunter desperately pushes you against the cool steel walls of the ship, your arms clinging tight to his shoulders and his face buried in your neck.

"Maker... Take off your armour," you plead as his teeth dig into your delicate skin like a feral beast would do with his prey.

He does, letting each piece fall to the ground as you go on kissing each other, leaving a trail of armour pieces on the floor as you slowly make your way towards his bunk. He looks stunning with just his tight black suit on. You take in the broadness of his shoulders, the way his pectorals stand out, highlighted by the tightness of the suit and grope the strong muscles of his biceps. Oh, fuck. How much do you love a man. Tall, muscular, strong, confident, with dark eyes and a head full of long, wavy hair. A Man. 

You moan in his mouth when you feel his thick biceps flexing under your touch. A smile forms on his lips as he feels how much you like this. As his arms wrap around your body, yours go in his hair. Maker, how safe do you feel in his arms. It's such an innate instinct – wanting to be held in the arms of a strong man, surrendering and trusting him, something that usually you would never be permitted to do in your life as a Jedi.

You can feel his erection against your lower belly, straining against his extremely thin black suit. His fingers hook in the hem of your pants, yanking them down over your ass, exposing your drenched cunt as he sits you down in his bunk.

He kneels before you, taking your boots and pants off and spreads your legs, his dark eyes looking into yours as a smirk appears on his face.

"Hunter–" you sigh.

"Wanna get you nice and ready for me, sweetheart," he coos as he starts to kiss your inner thigh.

The vision makes you tremble with lust and your hands helplessly clench into fists in a desperate attempt to grab the material under you to keep you steady. Your legs shake but he keeps them steady in his strong arms. He goes on trailing kisses on your inner thighs without ever stopping looking at you. He's taking his time with it, wanting to enjoy the way your whole body is throbbing with need. Your breathing gets more and more shallow as his mouth gets closer to where you want him the most. 

You lift your gaze from Hunter’s dark brown eyes, shutting your eyes for a mere fraction of a second, trying to alleviate the aching need you feel. Hunter chooses that moment to finally give you what you need. With a quick lick to your clit, your whole body jerks into his touch and a whimper escapes from your lips.

Hunter smirks up at you, the corner of his mouth lifting upwards in a smug, satisfied look. Then, he proceeds to bury his face between your legs and masterfully lick your swollen clit. His tongue brings you so much pleasure that your back arches involuntarily, pushing yourself further into his mouth. You moan his name and grab a handful of his long, thick hair. He purrs in your cunt when you entangle your fingers in his hair and you notice how his grip on your legs becomes tighter.

"Oh... Oh fuck!" you exclaim in ecstasy, barely able to form words.

One of his hands releases its grasp on your legs, which he has been using to keep you spread open for him. You throw your head back gasping as he slowly slides two of his thick fingers inside you. 

"So tight," he growls with a smirk on his face.

Hunter pumps his fingers inside of you, slowly increasing the rhythm, ensuring that you’re stretched out for him. It is a motion that brings you so much pleasure you wonder how it could possibly get better. Your whole body jerks in pure bliss under his touch. He enjoys looking at you like this, you can see it from how darkened his eyes are with lust.

For a brief second, his fingers and mouth leave your cunt, leaving you devastatingly empty. You watch in awe as Hunter sticks them in his mouth, without breaking eye contact with you. He sucks on his fingers, humming while closing his eyes to savor your taste from places where his tongue can’t reach.

"You taste so good, sweetheart," he rasps as he resumes fucking you with his fingers.

He watches you contort under him, moaning and begging for him to return his skillful mouth between your thighs. Your hips thrust up and down right in front of his face. You are shamelessly fucking yourself on his fingers, inviting him to bury his face back in your folds. You desperately bury your hands in his hair in an attempt to pull him closer.

"Damn, you're so beautiful like this," he says before his mouth goes back exactly where you wanted.

Then, Hunter does something absolutely devastating. While he continues licking your clit, he starts sucking it gently, all as he continues pumping his thick fingers inside of you. Hunter wants to draw an orgasm from you, his actions becoming more and more frantic as you grow closer to your climax. He can feel by the irregular way you breathe and shake that you're close. 

"Yes. Yes. Like this. Let go, sweetheart," he encourages you.

It's only a matter of seconds before you come, writhing under him. Your legs are wrapped around his head, squishing it. You scream his name so loud it echoes in the Marauder. Hunter is pleased as he looks at your blissed-out expression and feels your cunt clamping around his fingers. Your back arches as you ride your orgasm, pushing yourself further into his tongue so you can feel him licking you through your orgasm. Hunter purrs into your cunt, loving the way you let go around him. He loves how his face is getting soaked in your arousal, so addicted to the way you taste.

Hunter holds you steady as your orgasm fades out. When you regain your senses, you slowly release your grip on his hair. Only then he props himself up and slowly unzips his suit, showing you the beautiful golden skin underneath. A warm contrast under the black, tight layer.

The dark hairs on his chest are perfectly trimmed, accentuating each of his toned muscles and the tattoos which decorate his thick, masculine body. Your gaze is locked on his hand trailing down his abdomen, his muscles rippling as he approaches the hem of his pants. 

You shamelessly look at the bulge in his dark suit, a sight that makes your mouth water. Hunter’s lips curve into a smirk once again, noticing that you like what you see. The smug look on his face makes you throb with need once again, despite the fact that he just gave you an intense orgasm.

He hooks his thumb in the hem of his pants, watching intently for your reaction as he slowly pulls the material down to reveal the trimmed, dark hairs around the base of his thick cock.

Hunter notices the intense way you look at it and hears the whimper you just tried to suppress in your throat. He can feel your heart rate going up. It makes him smirk confidently as he goes on, finally freeing his hard, thick cock. You gulp while looking at it, as he uses the same fingers he had buried in you to cover it in your arousal. He gives it a few, firm strokes to ensure it’s nice and wet for you. The mere vision of it makes you bite your lip to muffle another impatient whimper.

Then he is on you, peeling your shirt away from your quivering body, rejoicing when he can finally touch it and worship it with his mouth. Hunter trails kisses across your collarbones and down towards your breasts. He swirls his tongue around the sensitive flesh there, before softly biting your nipples. You gasp when you feel his erection hard against your cunt. He starts to thrust his hips against yours so his cock can rub against your drenched core, getting it soaked in your juices. Your mind turns completely blank at that, heart thundering in your chest as his hands roam across your body. 

Hunter aligns himself to your entrance, groaning as his cock slowly makes its way inside of you. You admire his restraint. You know how much he probably wants to take you with one thrust, but instead he is being so gentle and careful with you, making sure that you are well-adjusted to his size.

He takes your jaw in his hand, looking deep inside your eyes as his thick cock stretches you open. You struggle to keep eye contact with him, unlike earlier when you were flirting with him. Now, your eyes only want to roll backwards. The pleasure you feel as he splits you open is overwhelming your body and senses.

You pathetically try to mumble some incoherencies, but he's quick to shut you up with a kiss. Hunter growls low in his throat when he feels your walls desperately clenching around him, as he buries himself into you to the hilt.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good," he rasps, almost desperately before giving you another wet kiss. Then, he raises his hips only to bury his cock deep inside you, making you moan into his mouth.

"How – how can you feel so fucking good?" he whimpers.

Hunter’s large hands gently cup your face, as he continues placing passionate kisses against your lips while thrusting into you. You notice his kisses become more desperate as he slowly increases the rhythm. As Hunter picks up the pace, he buries his face in your neck, panting low in your ear. 

You are certain that he can’t go any faster, before he proves you wrong. He increases the pace to a brutal rhythm, fucking you so hard you start screaming.

"So loud,” he rasps, “They're gonna hear us in the Cantina." 

"Then make me shut up," you whisper daringly.

A blaze of lust glimmers in his eyes as you lay down that challenge. Something shifts inside of him as he gives you a feral, animalistic look. Hunter quickly covers your mouth with his hand, showing you his more dominant, commanding side which makes you clamp tightly around his cock.

"Oh, you like this," he smirks, satisfied that this is precisely what you wanted all along.

You nod frantically. There is no use hiding how much this turns you on. Despite how much Hunter shows care towards you, you suspect there is something darker which lingers below the surface. You want to draw it out of him. 

"What else do you like, hm?" he coos as he wraps his other hand around your throat, lightly choking you, his thumb rubbing your throat possessively.

The sight of you, looking so vulnerable under him as he can finally dominate you makes him frantic with lust. Gone are the measured thrusts and even rhythm of before. Something feral has overtaken Hunter, a desperate need to claim you. He continues silencing your moans with one hand around your throat and one across your mouth, muffling your gasps as he wrecks you with his cock. 

Having Hunter's hand muffling your own moans gives you the opportunity to hear his desperate grunts and pants as they mix with the obscene, squelching sound his cock makes each time he thrusts into you. You close your eyes in bliss, enjoying this moment of pure pleasure. 

"Can't keep your eyes open for me, sweetheart? Look at me with those pretty fucking eyes," he growls.

You can't help but whimper at that, at how authoritative he sounds. The Sergeant of The Bad Batch is dominating the fuck out of you. You are a moaning, gasping mess beneath him, unable to think about anything other than how good being furiously pounded by him feels. 

"I didn't catch that,” Hunter rasps as he slowly lifts his hand from your mouth. He leans down to put his ear against your mouth “What were you saying, sweetheart?"

"L-let me – fuck!” you gasp, too blissed out to form words.

“Use your words,” Hunter commands, slowing his thrusts down so you can finally speak.

“Let me touch you!" you beg, unable to care about how desperate and pathetic you sound. All you can think about is roaming your hands around the warm, firm expanse of his body.

Hunter smirks, intrigued by your request, only too happy to oblige you. He grabs your hand roughly by the wrist and positions it over his abdomen. You can feel his muscles flexing and contracting under your touch as he thrusts into you. His body is as hard as iron and on fire like a damn furnace, burning with lust.

"Maker…" you whisper.

You let your hand trail up to his firm chest. You grope his pectorals, appreciating the firmness of his muscles. Your cunt clenches around his cock at the sight of your hand against his golden skin. A smirk appears on his face, enjoying what he does to you.

Your hand goes up to his broad shoulder, rubbing over it before you move your hand towards his back. You feel how his muscles strain there with each thrust as he continues pounding into you at a relentless pace. Both of your hands are now caressing his back, feeling every single dimple under your fingertips. Just as you try pulling him close, he starts to give it to you even harder. You scratch your fingernails along his back. You watch in awe as Hunter moans in your mouth at that. 

"Could–could fucking smell how much you wanted me earlier. You distracted me the whole time. Couldn't think of anything else besides how good you'd look with my cock inside of you,” he rasps in your neck before biting you, growling wildly as he does. “I was so fucking hard for you, sweetheart," Hunter grunts. 

He's so feral for you, fucking you so hard. You can't even mumble a response.

"Smell so good – so fucking good–" he whispers in your ear.

"D-don't s–stop," you mumble in your cockdrunk delirium.

"I can't, sweetheart. This cunt's all I ever wanted,” he growls, “Gonna make you mine. Mine." 

"Oh, fuck… Yes," you pant as he props himself up, kneeling in front of you without stopping that devastating rhythm for even half a second.

He looks at your body, at the way your boobs bounce with each thrust as he gives it go you even harder, holding on tight to your legs, using them as leverage to bury himself even deeper inside of you. Seeing him like this makes you remember just how badly you wanted to ride his cock earlier.

"Hunter. Hunter. I want to ride you," you whimper.

"Is that an order, Commander?"

"Y–yes. Yes. Order. S–s-sergeant," you mindlessly go on as he keeps thrusting his cock inside of you.

The thought of you bouncing on his cock makes him throb. In an instant, Hunter lifts you in his arms as if you were weightless and makes you straddle him. He sits with his back against the wall of the bunk. His hands are on your waist and you immediately start rocking your hips up and down, giving into your fantasy from earlier.

"Such a good soldier… So good at following orders," you whisper against his lips.

"Yeah… Sometimes," he smirks before gripping your hair and stealing another wet, hot kiss that makes you melt into him even further.

Your head rolls back in pleasure at the way his cock feels from this position. It's devastating, hitting something deep within you. You almost lose yourself in that feeling, but Hunter won’t allow you to. Even though you are on top of him, Hunter is quick to remind you who’s in charge as he takes your jaw in his hand.

"Eyes on me," he orders firmly.

"Yes, Sergeant," you moan. 

You swear you feel him throbbing and choke a grunt when he hears the sensual way you pronounce his title. Clearly, using his rank in this context has done something to Hunter. He moves his thumb between your lips and you suck it provocatively, never stopping yourself from meeting his gaze. Hunter’s pupils widen at the sinful way your lips envelop his finger and your tongue gently touches it. His eyes take into your sensual, precious beauty, before bringing you to him and kissing you again.

Your bodies are damp in sweat and rubbing against one another. Your nipples deliciously catch against his hairy, broad chest. You continue moaning into each other's mouths; your tongues never stop touching.

"Hunter, I'm gonna come–" you whimper.

"Hold it for me, sweetheart," he rasps in a sweet, yet dark voice, having the opposite effect from what he intended.

"Please, I want to come on your cock," you plead desperately.

"Not yet," he smirks.

Hunter grabs your hips and guides your movements so that your clit starts to rub against his pelvis. You let out a loud moan as you hold on to him tighter, digging your nails in his shoulders.

"I can't hold it!" you scream with your eyes shut.

He grabs your chin in his hand, clearly uninterested in your desperate appeals.

"Look at me," he says firmly as you open your eyes. Your vision is too blurry to focus on him but you try nonetheless.

"Now come for me, sweetheart," he rasps darkly.

You obey his order and come hard around his cock. An overwhelming, intense wave of pleasure starts at your core and completely takes over your body. You’re wrecked by uncontrollable shakes as Hunter holds you in his strong arms. You scream and pant as you ride your high. Your eyes roll backwards while Hunter focuses on how beautiful you look when you lose control. Especially when he is the one responsible for it.

Hunter feels your heart running in your chest and every single contraction of your muscles around his cock. The unmistakable, heady scent of sex that fills the Marauder drives him insane, making him burst inside of you. He grunts loudly as he fills you up with his load, holding you tight in his grasp.

You moan in each other's mouths, your forehead leaning on his as you look into each other’s eyes. You never leave each other’s gaze as you both give into the highest of pleasure.

As you come down from your high, your rhythm slows down until it stops completely. Your bodies are intertwined like vines, naked and sweaty as you catch breath in each other’s embrace.

You really do make a great team, after all.

Fanarts: Hunter's back + Shirtless Hunter by @mesvi Hello handsome by @corukant Wet Hunter by @iszapizza Hunter under the shower by @shakall Hunter and his vibroknife by @ve-ti-ver Hunter under the shower by @cloned-eyes Hunter taking off his shirt + Tech by @constant-brain-fog Hunter taking a shower by kaijurave (on twitter/x)

[pyromaniac-cyndaquil]

It's been a lot of work over a lot of time but I think I can finally share this...

PMD:EoS, but with all of the starters!

...Including Grookey, finally!!!!! 🥳

Introducing PMD: Expanded Sky!

This is a public mod available to download now! It adds in all starters from unova all the way to paldea, as well as zorua, axew and rockruff, and allows evolving eevee into sylveon.

Speaking of which, fairy type has been patched into the game! Disarming voice replaces milk drink and moonblast replaces judgement, which was unused.

Some non-traditional starters are no longer available as hero options in this due to lack of space, but are still available as partners. (Skitty can be chosen as a hero in version 1.0.0 only, so download that version instead of the latest if you wanna use her! Riolu and Shinx are available in version 1.2.1 and below)

If one of your faves was taken off the hero roster (eg vulpix, skitty, riolu, munchlax, etc), I have a tutorial here on how to quickly edit the patched file to put them back in :)

Several regional variants have been added! Alolan Raichu, Alolan Marowak and Hisuian Typhlosion are now available as potential evolutions for their respective base stages.

Partners across both rescue team and all three versions of explorers are available too, including Cubone, Munchlax, Machop, Vulpix, Riolu, etc

Sprites and portraits are courtesy of the brilliant PMD Sprite Repository and the many incredible artists who contribute to it!

Credits for all improvement patches, sprites and portraits are included in the download, as well as an explanation on how to patch the game and the full starter list.

The mod is split in two versions to accommodate all the partners - MIDDAY version and MIDNIGHT version. The download includes both, as well as the tool required to patch your game! You'll need a clean US copy of pmd eos at hand.

A full list of moves learned by newly added Pokémon can be found here, as well as info on how to evolve them and their IQ groups.

If you run into any issues, feel free to drop me an ask or DM and I'll see how I can help/what I need to fix!

You can find the download for this rom hack here!

Edits/updates noted under the cut:

(27/04/23)

The overall mod now has a name - expanded sky! Reflected earlier on in the post.

I've been informed that the included patching tool (XDelta) doesn't work on mac, and after some digging around and discussions in dms we found this tool works for Mac instead.

Added graphics to the post displaying which heroes and partners are part of the hack.

(11/05/23)

Added link to learnset compilation for all new pokémon.

(17/05/23) Version 1.1.0 has been released!

Sobble is now a starter, replacing Skitty (Skitty is still accessible by downloading v1.0.0 on the download page). Sobble is also now a partner in MIDNIGHT.

Zorua/Zoroark's moveset has been tweaked slightly

Base forms of all new starters can now be found in Oran Forest, and can be recruitable in the post-game. The new fire starters can also be found in Giant Volcano.

Extra portraits and sprites were added for Cubone, Psyduck and Machop. Like the rest of the new assets in this mod, these were imported from the PMD Sprite Repository, and credits are on the title screen and in the readme.txt.

Extra credits + more in-depth instructions for patching the game included in the readme.txt.

(18/05/23)

Added a link to a tutorial on swapping out heroes for others already existing in the game.

(22/05/23) - Version 1.1.1 has been released!

Fixed genders for female starter options on the quiz. Updated Fuecoco to use new portraits and sprites. (Credits to Garbage)

(23/05/23) - Version 1.1.2 has been released!

Female starters from gens 5-9 can now evolve correctly (save for starters who don't have evolutions in the game yet - these are listed in the text file in the download)

Rockruff can now evolve, and Midnight Lycanroc's evolution method has been fixed to use the Lunar Ribbon as intended.

(15/06/23) - Version 1.2.1 has been released!

In 1.2.0, a second version of the mod was included in the zip compatible with melon emulator, and potentially others that were having issues with saving.

Fairy gummis were also made available as mission rewards and shop items.

There's a couple more things that can be seen in the changelog including bugfixes, but the main other thing promised was that Froakie and Litten can now evolve directly into Greninja and Incineroar. Due to an evolution flag not being set this ended up untrue, but has been fixed in 1.2.1.

This post claimed dazzling gleam is in the game, but it should've said disarming voice.

🆕 (10/03/24) - Version 1.3.0 has been released!

Dusk Lycanroc, Drizzile, Inteleon, Grookey, Axew and Fraxure have been added, as well as Alolan Raichu, Alolan Marowak an Hisuian Typhlosion.

Axew replaces Shinx in the hero roster, and Grookey replaces Riolu. Additional portraits and sprites added for starter evolutions, including vanilla starters. Sleep animations have been copied over to EventSleep/Laying/Wake animations if missing.

Greninja erroneously had the same moveset as Froakie. This has now been fixed.

Credits are no longer displayed on the title screen.

Sprite, portrait and patch credits can now be viewed by talking to a Cyndaquil NPC on the crossroads.

Evolution help can also be accessed by talking to this same NPC.

🆕 (23/05/24) - Version 1.3.1 has been released!

The uhh. Grovyle problem. Yeah. That should be fixed.

(Grovyle was missing several sprites as a side effect of trying to add new ones, due to his unique setup in the vanilla game as such an important npc. His sprites should now be reverted to a functional state, rather than leaving him to walk fowards on the spot all the time).

An issue present from the start that caused the game to freeze while advancing floors in dungeons occasionally should now be resolved.

[eclectickss]

In Your Dreams

Professor!Natasha x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha finds your ogling eyes amusing... she decides to do something about it. 

Warnings: Dom!Natasha, (university) classroom antics, Smut (oral, fingering, pet names, submissive!Reader, slight orgasam denial)

Note: CAWS Natasha make brain go silly :) WC: 2500 

You look up from your paper to see Natasha turned away from you scribbling on the white board at the front of the class. You tried to take notes, but were a little too focused on her defined arms as she wrote down the final words.

Your eyes only paid attention the way her bouncy, vibrant red hair flowed when she turned back around, and the moment she began addressing the class, you could only gaze at her lips as they created words incomprehensible to you.

Natasha had long ago figured out that you had a little thing for her, finding it rather flattering and even more so amusing. She was used to some extent of attention from her students, but nothing like your ability to zone out for the entirety of a class period. It was actually a miracle you were doing alright with her assignments.

Natasha had eventually found a special joy in harmlessly teasing you; she would make eye contact with you during more intimate parts of her lectures and observe your reactions as she tested out different methods of sitting down or walking while talking. She had quickly figured out that you get the most foggy-eyed when she leans back against her desk at the front of the room. Another favorite way to mess with you was giving other students more attention... she would lean on their desks or look over their shoulders at their work, making you red.

Today was no different when she noticed that you had already zoned out. She smiled to herself as she continued to address the class, quickly trying to come up with a new way to get a reaction out of you.

"Y/N, could I get you to hold this for me? I think I need an extra hand for a moment." Natasha addressed the class.

Your eyes shot wide as a soft giggle rippled through the room, understanding why when you look up to see Natasha struggling with a large, unfamiliar map.

"Oh! - Uh- yea- yes, ma'am." You hurried to scramble around your desk, which Natasha found wildly entertaining. She watched as you nervously tried to make yourself more presentable on the short trip up to the front, holding back a smirk. You were adorable... and extremely tempting.

"Come here, honey, and just hold this for me, will you?"

You grabbed the map from the back as quickly as you could get to it, practically melting when you accidentally touched Natasha's hand. She noticed immediately, walking around to the front of the map.

"Perfect!" She projected. "So now, you all can see how these countries might-" She paused and you were worried that she found your stare overbearing. "Y/N do you think you could raise the map for me more?" She daintily requested and you complied.

"Sure!" You tried to sound enthusiastic but a lump was caught in your throat. Despite no longer being able to see her face, Natasha had never been this interactive with you before. Nevertheless, you raised the map up to where you couldn't see the rest of the class, even Natasha.

You were thoroughly relieved when she had finished explaining the components of the map to the class, waiting for her instruction to return to your seat, but instead, she meets you behind the map.

"You did so good, sweet girl." She lowered her voice close to your ear, pulling a soft whimper out of you.

Natasha continued to walk behind you and return to her desk where the rest of the class could see her. "Oh, Y/N, you can return to your seat now."

The class once again giggled, making your face and ears turn bright red as you hurried back to your seat, Natasha paying close attention to your color. All you could think about for the rest of the period were those past two minutes... replaying over and over.

Little did you know though, all Natasha was doing was replaying your soft whimper, slowly creating skimpy scenarios with you in her head. This whole time she was trying to rile you up, she finally realized why she liked doing it so much. It's because it was you... so adorable, and moldable and controlable. She wanted you.

Both of your brains simply went to waste for the last 20 minutes of class.

—- "Y/N, could I see you for a moment?" Natasha had used her normal volume once the period ended, receiving a nod from you. Leaving your items on your desk, you walked up to her, noticing her eyes were following the last person as they exited the room.

"What's up, Prof Romanoff?" You finger gunned her, trying to calm yourself, but you quickly realized how out of pocket that was, cheeks turning a soft shade of pink.

Natasha was obsessed with the nerves in your voice, finding your awkwardness fascinating. She admired the way you reservedly fixed your hair and clothes, fully aware you were fidgeting.

"How is it that you do so well in my class?" She began, watching the panic move across your features.

"Excuse me?"

"It's just - your grades are phenomenal for someone who spends 95% of my lectures focused on my lips and not the words coming out of them." She smirked.

You were speechless.

"Oh, c'mon, you've got nothing to say in that pretty little head of yours? It seems so busy up in there though, when I'm writing on the board or explaining the significance of Lady Macbeth..."

"I- um..."

"I mean I can pick up one marker off the floor and there's no hope in getting you back until the end of the lecture."

You gulped and Natasha soaked it in, finding you ready for her to continue advances.

"Come closer." She commanded, catching you off guard.

"Huh?"

"Come closer." The redhead nearly whispered.

You stepped forward to Natasha who had propped herself up on her desk.

"You see that marker on my desk?"

There was an expo resting right next to the heel of her palm. You nodded.

"Push it on the floor."

You complied without hesitation, in a trance with her orders. The plastic echoed off the hardwood.

"Now pick it up."

You bent over and grabbed the marker.

"Good girl... you're so good at following my orders... so desperate to please." Natasha grinned as your jaw opened slightly. "I need someone like you. A dumb bunny to do anything I say." She reached for your head to stroke your cheek with her thumb, you shocked yet easily relaxing into her soft hands.

"Professor Romanoff- what's happening?" You gulped, noticing her eyes were roaming every inch of your figure. Her hand still held your cheek, her touch becoming more and more consuming.

"Oh what, you haven't put the pieces together, baby?" She slipped her hand to the back of your neck and into your hair. She obsessed over the way your eyes slowly closed at her actions, happy surprised at how responsive you were already being. "Come on now, bunny. You must have already figured out that I want to kiss that pretty pussy, right?"

Your eyes widened in shock at her words, Natasha delighted. You were too easy. Her other hand reached out to you, pulling you flush against her body. The soft breaths escaping your lips were driving Natasha wild. "Would it be ok if I played with you, bunny?"

"Ye- yes." You whined.

"Yes, what?" Her hand immediately tightening around your neck.

"Y- yes ma'am"

"Try again." She growled into your ear.

"Yes Professor?"

Natasha chuckled. "Good girl." She whispered into your ear, nipping your lobe before spinning around and pinning you into her desk. Considering this territory was completely unexpected, you froze when your noses were practically touching. Natasha could see the nerves written all across your face, but she knew you were compliant from your heavy breathing and glazed eyes.

As if your heart wasn't already racing, it's pace somehow picked up as Natasha leaned in to close the distance, keeping her eyes locked on yours as she followed through with the first touch of lips.

She watched in amusement as you struggled to keep eye contact when your lips met, the kiss being full and soft. You broke your gaze when her tongue entered your mouth though, shutting your eyes tight as she moved in ways you didn't know were possible. Natasha gave a moan at your reaction, following suit and shutting her eyes to deepen the moment.

The redhead played with your hair and neckline as the two of you continued to make out, slowly making advances as she ran her hands lower and lower over your body. You whined as she pulled your ass into her waist.

"Oh, pretty girl, you're too good for me." She spoke against your lips before planting one last kiss on your lips and moving on to other expanses of your skin. "How many times have you pictured something like this happening?" She asked before licking a line down your exposed collar bone.

Everything about her was driving you mad, making a response difficult.

"I - I- don't-"

She forcefully grabbed your clothed pussy, eliciting a groan from your throat.

"How many, darling?" Natasha growled under your ear.

"Too many for me to count." You nearly whispered. "You are all I can think about."

Natasha's mind went numb at your confession, allowing herself to wonder what you looked like when you fuck your self with your fingers at the thought of her. She needed to taste you now.

"Oh my." She replied, moving down on her knees and kissing right below your belly button. "And have you ever gotten off to the thought of me?"

"Mhmm" You whimpered, her mouth making you feel feral. You placed your hands on Natasha's head and she dug her fingers into your sides.

"No. Hands off." She growled. 

Your hands flew back to the sides of the desk, the grip being not as rewarding and the embarrassment rushing through your body. 

"Good girl. Then how do you picture this going? Tell me." Natasha began to move her kisses lower and lower, her mouth now working on top of your jeans.

"I -," This was hard for you. "You would touch me - a-and let me cum," you barely managed to breathe out.

"No." She spoke. "More details."

You groaned as her hands showed no mercy on top of your jeans.

"You would pull my jeans down and-"

A gasp escaped your lips as you felt your pants loosen and be pulled off of your waste. Her kisses and touches stopped though, leaving all of your nerves on high alert, and more importantly, leaving you missing her desperately.

"Go on." Natasha ordered.

"A- and you would feel how wet I am... f-for you."

Her slender fingers made contact with your clothed pussy, the older woman silently gasping at your pool. Natasha stared at you in awe as she started to feel around the damp spot you had created. You quickly figured out though that she wasn't going to do anything else unless you continued talking.

"Um- you would then-" You yelped as she pressed on your clit.

"Yes?" The red head found you entertaining... wanting to see all of your reactions and quirks. 

"Fuck- y-you would pull my ruined panties dow-"

"Oh, darling. You're moving a little fast there. Lemme show you what I want before that." She husked, moving to lick a strong swipe over the thin fabric in front of her face. She basked in obsession as you struggled to find something to do with your hands, not allowed to put them on Natasha's head.

She moved to start leaving marks all down your thighs, making sure her hands were in a constant state of motion, feeling out your ass and legs. You whined as she kept moving closer and further away from you heat. Your smell had started to overwhelm her senses as it became harder and harder to stay away from your core. 

Her fingers started to drag the elastic down your marked up thighs, making sure to take her time as she finally revealed your dripping center. 

"Now your panties are ruined, darling." She lowered, licking a line up your leg to your hip, inches away from your needs. 

"Professor - please-" You whined, but the older woman smacked the outside of your leg, remembering what you were supposed to be doing. "Now you would gently taste my- fuck."

Natasha had already started moving her tongue on your center, moaning at the tang and wetness. She pulled away and you watched as a strand of saliva snapped in half.

"You would then shove a finger inside of me a- and" A digit was inserted. "And you would start pumping into me as you tell me how good I taste." You could barely keep yourself composed.

"Nice try, Bunny." Natasha smirked, yet choosing to start moving her finger. You were so much fun.

You allowed yourself a moment to get used to her finger, but you quickly needed more. 

"Soon, you would insert another finger, maybe two. I wouldn't know if I could take it. I might-"

Two more fingers were shoved inside of you as a devilish smile spread across the other woman's face. She laughed as you took a moment to adjust to her. 

"Oh my god, I can definitely take it... oh you feel so good." You let your head fall back as your hole was screaming, her long fingers almost too much. "You would then add your mouth on my clit, Professor." More coherency was entering your statements as you got used to her digits. "You would suck and work me up so well..."

A long, soft moan left your lips as she made contact with the rest of you. "You're doing so well for me bunny. I love hearing how you want me to ruin you." Her pumps and licks were now torturous. The pace quickened every few seconds, eventually tightening you up to the edge. 

"Then you would make me as- ask to cum when i - I felt ready..." You heaved. "And I would say- 'Can I please cum, Professor Romanoff?'" 

The readhead moaned into you. "Almost, darling."

"Fuck-" You tried to figure out how to control your breathing as the sounds coming out of your mouth turned into soft cries. The way her fingers felt inside of you was wild; you had never felt so filled before. Her tongue was working quickly against your sensitivity, and it was taking everything in you to hold back.

"Ok, bunny, you can cum now." 

You finally allowed your body to take over, her final touches sending you into overdrive, Natasha watching the show from below. Her fingers helped to untangle the knots in your stomach, removing them when she sensed it was becoming too much. Before you knew it, Natasha had stood up and brought her fingers to your mouth. 

"Clean up, darling."

You nodded and wrapped your lips around her digits, giving a soft sound at your taste. 

"Good, good girl." She said, patting your cheek. "If you keep being a dumb bunny like this, we will have to do this again." She smirked, acknowledging your struggles to pull yourself together. Natasha simply sauntered back to sit at her desk, already thinking about all of the possibilities with you in her hands to mold. 

╚══《✧》══╝

[mysteria157]

Unsteady Ground

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

CW: Light angst, just fluffy but scarred Post-Shibuya Nanami

WC: ~2.1k

Summary: 

Nanami gets more than what he bargained for with the kind receptionist who checks him in for his weekly appointments.

Notes: Hello! Been thinking about Nanami if he was still injured but survived the Shibuya Incident and this is just one of many little thoughts I've had. Hoping to write more soon!

Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated! Happy reading!

Dividers: @cafekitsune @awenise

Masterlist | Ao3 | Twitter | Come Say Hi!

©mysteria157, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, modify, or translate (without permission) my work to other accounts and platforms.

What was he thinking?

Nanami Kento prides himself on his self-awareness—a man who can map out his strengths and weaknesses like well-worn territories on a battle-scarred map. He’s the epitome of controlled courage, a figure who could march into dank, shadow-filled alleys and pungent sewage tunnels, his fear compressed into a hard knot beneath his ribs, as he methodically tracked and exorcised curses with cold efficiency. 

So this is new. It has to be.

What was he thinking?

He was thinking about you.

You, who he first saw through a haze of discomfort at the reception desk during his initial therapy appointment. His eye patch itched against his brow, a constant reminder of Dagon’s domain and the razor-sharp fish-like teeth that sunk into his flesh. The burns on his left side stretched tight beneath layers of Mederma a constant, throbbing presence. He felt raw, exposed, his mind a blender of pain and misery, haunted by the taunting echoes of a patchwork curse that still clawed at the edges of his dreams.

But then, there was you.

You, whose voice flowed like silk when you asked for his name and date of birth to check him in. Your words, a gentle current, seemed to wash away the stark clinical atmosphere. With each subtle movement, a hint of vanilla across your desk, wrapping him in its warmth, coaxing his tense shoulders away from his ears.

You, who lingered in his mind long after each encounter. Your daily ask about how he was doing, though met with the same stoic response, became a small ritual he found himself anticipating. Your presence had become a soothing balm to his frayed nerves, somehow making the hard recovery of his life a little more bearable.

You, whose eyes lit up many weeks later as you spoke of the Christmas market in town, your voice brimming with excitement about the newly opened rink.

In that moment, driven by an unfamiliar, overwhelming desire—no, need—to simply fan the flames of whatever was licking to life in his chest, he spoke without thinking. The words tumbled out, clumsy and hopeful. His face flushed, his usually composed demeanor cracking.

“We could go together this weekend if you would like?”

Stupid. Absolutely, unequivocally stupid. 

Nanami Kento, what were you thinking?

A soft smile played at the corners of your mouth, your head tilted ever so slightly, curls dancing in a nonexistent wind as you regarded him with warmth and a lifted brow that made his breath catch.

“Are you asking me on a date, Nanami Kento?” Playful and tinged with an essence of hope that made his heart race even faster.

“I—“ He was thinking of you. Only you. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

The cool air of the ice rink slaps Nanami’s face with every person that skates past him, his heart racing with a mix of dread and shame that pulses through his veins. A group of teenagers glides by effortlessly, their showboating twirls and spins threatening to pull his mouth into a sneer. They’re no doubt mocking him as he stands stock still against the glass wall, gloved hands pressed flat as if he could suction himself in place.

He’s endured years of Gojo's incessant, annoying taunts and needless provocations. He’s faced cursed spirits without flinching, coolly efficient even as his watch ticked down the final minutes before six. But now, the prospect of revealing his complete and utter lack of skating ability to you terrifies him more than any supernatural threat.

He had every opportunity to reveal his incompetence. He did nothing as you both laced up your skates. Smiled softly as he listened to you chat animatedly about your favorite winter activities. Kept his spine taut as you adjusted his eye patch, fingers trailing feather light along his jaw. Even as you pulled him by the hand towards the rink, his legs wobbling like a newly born doe on the thin blades, he could only clench his jaw and follow.

He encouraged you to go without him, to warm up while he adjusted to the weight of strangers’ gaze when they saw him for the first time. Even with so much practice, the discomfort, even after all this time, burns more fiercely than Jogo's searing touch ever did. 

But he knows he can’t delay the inevitable. Soon, you’ll return, expectant and eager, and he’ll be exposed. The memory of asking you on this date flashes through his mind—a moment of uncharacteristic impulsivity born from longing and evolutionary competition. He’d watched the parade of men filing in for their appointments, each one a potential rival. The brunette who shows up at 3 PM, with his easy smile and effortless charm, was particularly concerning. So Nanami can’t fail now.

Steeling himself, he takes a tentative step. The blades slide across the ice, taking him further than what he intended. His knees lock, his back sways unsteadily, and his arms flail as he tries to find balance.

Somehow, he can hear Haibara laughing from the grave. He can almost see his old friend, red-faced and doubled over, teasing him without shame for never accepting that impromptu hockey game invitation their first year.

“I can do this,” he whispers to himself, desperately praying to whoever will listen for sudden knowledge. He takes another step, a short glide up with his left foot and it’s no good. His legs wobble dangerously, arms windmilling as he grasps for the wall and throws every curse known to heaven and hell, fogging the glass with his acidic words.

The teenagers zoom by again, and he swears one of them snickers, skating backward with infuriating ease as they disappear from view.

“Kento?” Your voice, honeyed with concern, reaches him from behind. It’s too sweet, too kind to quell the embarrassment that runs in rivulets down his back. You appear in the peripheral of his right eye, your lips pinched behind your teeth as you stop in front to take him in. “You’ve never skated before, have you?”

For a fleeting moment, Nanami considers trying again, hoping to slip and knock himself unconscious to escape this mortifying situation.

He feels heat rise to his cheeks. “I may have overestimated my abilities,” he admits, his dry tone a thin cover over his embarrassment as he clings to the rink’s walls like a lifeline.

To his relief, your face softens with understanding rather than judgment. You skate backward with effortless grace, hands outstretched towards him. “Trust me?”

He hesitates, eyeing your hands. Part of him wants to refuse, to flail his way off the rink so he can take off these atrocious skates and maintain some semblance of dignity. But a larger part, the part that has been drawn to you from the start, longs to brush his hands against yours.

Your cream-colored gloves intertwine with his. “Just glide. Follow my feet,” you encourage, slowly skating backward and guiding him forward.

You flow like water on the ice, fluid and sure as if you’re a professional, without a hint of hesitation. He’s mildly green with envy because he’s a stark contrast. Legs stubbornly locked, feet shuffling rather than gliding. He tries to focus on the mechanics of skating, on keeping his balance, but he finds his attention irresistibly drawn to you. 

You’ve taken off your winter coat, and a soft navy sweater hugs your curves, accentuating your form. He’s seen it beneath crisp blouses and pencil skirts. Your leggings outline powerful thighs that bunch with your movements, yielding strength and practice. The overhead lights catch the small puffs of air that ghost from your mouth as you guide him patiently across the ice, no sound reaching his ears because he’s not paying attention.

Your hair, a glorious bundle of curls, cascades from beneath a navy beanie, framing your warm face and kissing your cheeks. Small gold hoops in your ears catch the light with each graceful motion, their gentle swaying hypnotizing Nanami, drawing him further into your orbit and away from reality.

He’s lost in admiring you—the kindness in your eyes, the way your presence makes him feel both vulnerable and safe even as his life has been so tragically altered.

It’s in this moment of distraction, his heart full and unguarded, that his skates and your teachings betray him. As you attempt a gentle turn, his feet slip, zipping awkwardly to the side.

“Kento!”

You grip his hands tightly, urging him to regain his footing, but he’s caught in a comical dance, legs churning in place as he fights to stay upright.

“Wait! Kento just—okay, just try to come to a stop. A stop, Kento, don’t—” He attempts to halt, overcompensating with force. 

“For fucks sake—!” He grunts, feet flying out from under him, launching up as if he’s a cartoon villain slipping on a banana peel, bucking him off the ice and taking you with him as you both come crashing down onto the unforgiving cold ground.

Somehow, he doesn’t hit his head, but his back and ass scream from the impact. At least you were able to use him to cushion your blow, and you lay across his chest, face buried in his wool coat.

Seconds stretch into eternity as you both lie there, panting. Nanami fixes his gaze on the ceiling, half-hoping the harsh glare of the overhead lights will burn the cornea of his remaining eye and blind him completely from this whole ordeal.

“Well,” you murmur, voice muffled against his coat, “should we get up?”

“No…no, I quite like it down here,” Nanami responds, deadpan delivery masking the absolute sincerity of his words.

You pull your head from his chest to look down at him. Nanami’s eyes meet yours, staring, unblinking, mortified, and wishing the ground could liquefy and then freeze over, trapping him underneath.

With impeccable timing and bone-dry delivery, you quip, “I guess for a first date, this was a good way to break the ice.”

Nanami blinks, processing your words. The absurdity of the situation—the terrible pun, your matter-of-fact delivery, the undignified sprawl of limbs—hits Nanami all at once. A laugh bubbles from deep in his chest, croaking through years of cobwebs as it grows into a full-bodied guffaw.

The sound of his laughter surprises him as much as it does you. Your eyes and his one widen in delight at this rare display of uninhibited joy and soon you’re both laughing, the sound echoing across the rink.

The scarred side of his mouth twinges uncomfortably, but he doesn’t care, he can’t. His laughter, rich and unbridled, hiccups from slightly chapped and upturned lips.

As your laughter subsides, Nanami realizes he can’t remember the last time he laughed like this—free, unguarded, genuinely happy. He takes in the sight of you: your beanie askew, a cascade of messy curls tumbling over one shoulder; ice shavings glistening as they melt on your cheek; your lip gloss slightly smeared, yet still inviting. 

Your eyes meet his, and for the millionth time in only a few short weeks of knowing you, his heart skips a beat. With a gentleness, you reach up to adjust his eye patch—a gesture so intimate, so accepting of all that he is, that Nanami hopes it becomes a habit. 

He watches, breath hitching, as you shift, sliding yourself up his chest with a soft grunt of effort. For a moment, you hover there, your faces inches apart. Nanami can feel the warmth of your breath, senses the unasked question of what you want to do. And whatever his face conveys, must be enough for a smile that outshines the gleam of the ice around you to blossom on your face as you close the distance.

The press of your glossy lips against his still catches Nanami by surprise. For a heartbeat, he’s frozen, overwhelmed by the sensation. But only a second later, he melts and softens into you. One hand finds the small of your back, the other sliding against your cheek, drawing you closer as he returns the kiss and opens something within him that he knows you’ve found the key to.

For a second, it washes away the pain of his past, the destruction that he took part in, the friends he’s lost along the way, and he feels okay. If only for a moment, and maybe being with you can help the wounds in his chest and along his left side heal over time.

The ice is cold beneath him, his dignity is probably bruised along with his back and ass, but in this moment, given a second chance at life, hopefully with you, he feels wonderfully, perfectly alive.

Thanks for reading!!

[writingquestionsanswered]

How do I plot a romance story?

Most advice and plot structures I have found seem to be focused on quest-type stories. Do you have any advice or templates that are mpre easily applicable to romance stories? Do I need to include another major plotline?

Basic Romance Structure

Like most stories, there are different theories and methods about structure, and you can find these by Googling "romance story structure." However, let me walk you through a basic romance structure to show you the differences and similarities with the kind of structure you'd use for something like a quest story or an adventure story.

Introduction/Normal World - Like most stories, romance stories usually open with a peek at the protagonist's "normal world" as a means of introducing who they are and what their life is like. And, as with other stories, this also introduces us to the both characters' internal conflicts. In romance, rather than resolving the internal conflict with growth in relation to the story events, the internal conflict will be resolved via change/growth in relation to the romance. [Example: Sandi is a florist with a four-year-old daughter, navigating single parenthood after her husband filed for divorce and ran away to chase a dream.]

The "Meet Cute" - This is essentially the inciting incident... the moment the two characters meet for the first time, or the first time in a long time. All in one moment, we see how undeniably right they are for each other, but due to their individual internal internal conflicts, they're butting heads big time.

[Example: Sandi meets Brent, the new flower supplier who is adorable, sweet to Sandi's daughter, but infuriatingly inept at doing things the way she likes them.]

Forced Proximity - After the "meet cute," something will inevitably force them to spend time together. They get partnered together on the same job, stuck together in the same place, keep coincidentally bumping into each other... whatever. All that matters is that they're forced to get to know each other despite their head butting.

[Example: they get roped into working together on the town's rose festival.]

Resistance/Rejection - Now that they're forced to interact for whatever reason, they're going to spend a lot of time resisting their mutual interest/desire for one another due to whatever obstacles exist, like being from warring factions or one being in the middle of a divorce. But despite this resistance, we can see the sparks flying between them, even if they can't or don't want to admit it.

[Example: Sandi wants to focus on running her business and raising her daughter; Brent just got out of a long relationship and isn't ready for romance.]

Waning Resistance/Giving Love a Chance - Eventually there's a breakthrough... the obstacle gives way... they have a really fun time hanging out at the Christmas market and almost kiss... they move past the misunderstanding between them... or maybe they just slowly get over their issues and start to fall in love. Either way, they decide to give the relationship a go.

[Example: as they get to know each other and bond through working on the rose festival, they can't deny how compatible they are and an unexpected first kiss gives Brent the courage to ask Sandi out on a date, to which she agrees.]

Three Steps Forward, Two Steps Back - This is essentially the first date, then another one, then another one... though it doesn't have to be actual dates. It just needs to be some interactive scenes when they're in relationship mode. Each of these interactions will deepen their feelings for one another while at the same time raising new obstacles or re-raising the old ones.

[Example: the first date goes well except that Sandi is preoccupied with the fact that her daughter is staying with a new sitter. The second date goes okay, except Brent is in a bad mood after his ex came to town to pick up the last of her things. Then they pull an all-nighter to make some final preparations for the upcoming rose festival, which leads to a philosophical conversation about the future, wherein Sandi says she sees herself getting remarried one day and having another kid or two, and Brent says he can't ever see himself getting married or being a father.]

This Isn't Going to Work - This is the midpoint crisis... the "all is lost" moment where one or both put on brakes and say, "I can't do this," citing whatever obstacle/s that now stand in the way of their happiness. Sometimes this follows their biggest act of intimacy yet, whether that's simply their first kiss or going all the way. It could even be the first declaration of love, being introduced to family, or some other important early relationship milestone. But then it all falls apart... maybe because one or more of the obstacles become too much, a fear-based retreat, or some other external force

[Example: the rose festival has arrived... Sandi is there with her daughter and parents, Brent is there with his mom and sister. Everyone meets, Brent continues to be great with Sandi's daughter... it's obvious Brent and Sandi belong together. But then Sandi's wayward not-yet-officially-ex-husband shows up and wants to get back together. Although she's ambivalent, seeing him interact with their daughter and her parents makes her realize giving him another chance is what's best for their daughter. Meanwhile, Brent witnesses this from far away, thinks, "I'm not good enough for a family like that," and he and Sandi go their separate ways.]

On Second Thought... - This is the moment when something happens that makes one or both characters realize they belong together... that the obstacles aren't real or don't matter... [Example: Brent finds a drawing Sandi's daughter made of the three of them together that makes him realize he really is worthy of their love. And Sandi sees that her husband hasn't changed, that he's still focused on chasing dreams that aren't what's best for their daughter... or herself, for that matter. ]

The Moment of Declaration - This is where the one character finds the other, or they find each other, and one or both declare their love and commitment to the other, despite whatever obstacles there may be. This is the run through the airport to catch the other before they fly away to a new life. It's the objection at the wedding before the other can go forward with the less-than-ideal marriage. It's the boombox on the shoulders, the kiss in the rain, the "I love, I love, I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on" declaration in a foggy field at sunrise. [Example: Brent hears from a friend that Sandi's husband left again. He goes to the last night of the rose festival, finds Sandi, and tells her he wants all of it... her, the daughter, her quirky parents, the flower shop, marriage, more kids... he is ready to take on the world with her, and she couldn't be happier.]

The Happily Ever After or "HEA" - This is the story's denouement, where we flash forward a few days, weeks, or more and see the happy ending. This is the jump ahead a few months to see the happy couple living their lives together, the one year leap ahead to the wedding, or a leap ahead to a moment even further down the road when the couple is firmly established in their HEA.

[Example: two years later, Sandi and Brent have been married almost a year, and are at the rose festival with the now six-year-old and their newborn twins, Sandi's parents, and Brent's mom and sister, one big happy family.]

Now... like I said, there are a variety of different structure templates for romance as there are for other genre stories. Don't feel like you have to pick one, and if you do, don't feel like you have to stick to it exactly. Story structure is just a guideline to help make sure you hit the important points to help the story unfold.

Happy writing!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[grangerhater]

A GAME OF TABOO

pairing: professor!Remus Lupin x student!reader

synopsis: it’s against the school principles but it’s just for a night right?

smut

warning: plot, teacher-student relationship, they are both two consenting adults, p in v penetration, nick names “daddy” and “baby” once or twice, spanking

The rain poured heavily outside as Y/N hurriedly made her way through the hallways of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was her last year at the prestigious school, and despite the gloomy weather, she couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement. Today was the day she would meet her new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Remus Lupin.

As Y/N entered the classroom, a warm, inviting atmosphere greeted her. The room was adorned with shelves filled with books, and the crackling fire in the fireplace emitted a comforting glow. Y/N's eyes scanned the room, finally landing on the figure standing by the blackboard.

Professor Lupin turned to face her, his eyes filled with kindness and warmth. He had a tired look about him, as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. But there was an air of wisdom and intelligence that made Y/N's heart skip a beat.

"Ah, Miss Y/L/N, I presume?" Professor Lupin greeted her with a gentle smile. "Please, come in. Take a seat."

Y/N nodded and took a seat at the front of the classroom, her heart fluttering nervously. As the other students filed in, Professor Lupin began the lesson, captivating the class with his vast knowledge and engaging teaching methods. Y/N found herself hanging onto every word, her fascination growing with each passing moment.

Days turned into weeks, and Y/N found herself growing more and more infatuated with Professor Lupin. His calm and patient demeanor, combined with his intelligence, drew her in like a moth to a flame. Yet, she couldn't help but feel a sense of guilt. It was wrong to have feelings for her teacher.

Throughout the lesson, Y/N found herself constantly stealing glances at Professor Lupin. His voice was soothing, lulling her into a sense of comfort as he explained the intricacies of the Patronus Charm. She admired the way he spoke, his words flowing effortlessly and captivating the entire class.

After class, Y/N lingered behind, pretending to gather her belongings as the other students filed out. She watched as Professor Lupin collected his papers, his brows furrowed in concentration. Summoning her courage, she approached his desk.

"Professor Lupin, I wanted to ask you something," Y/N began, her voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up, his eyes softening at the sight of her. "Of course, Y/N. What can I help you with?"

She hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest. "I... I was wondering if you could recommend any additional reading on the Patronus Charm. I find it fascinating and would love to learn more about it."

A smile spread across Professor Lupin's face as he reached for a nearby bookshelf, pulling out a worn, leather-bound book. "Ah, I have just the thing for you. This is an advanced text on the Patronus Charm. It delves into the theory behind it and provides numerous tips for successful casting. I believe you'll find it quite enlightening."

Y/N's eyes widened with gratitude as she accepted the book. "Thank you, Professor Lupin. I really appreciate it."

"It's my pleasure, Y/N. I am always here for you" he replied, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary.

Over the following weeks, Y/N found herself spending more and more time with Professor Lupin. They often engaged in deep discussions about various magical subjects, and their conversations would stretch into the night. Y/N cherished these moments, treasuring the connection she felt with him.

As the months passed, Y/N's feelings for Professor Lupin grew stronger and stronger. She found herself thinking about him constantly, and longing for his company. She couldn't help but feel a sense of guilt, knowing that a teacher-student relationship was taboo, but she couldn't deny her feelings.

One day, after class, well after curfew that is Y/N snuck out of the party that was held in her common room and drunkenly decided to take a chance and admit her feelings to Professor Lupin. She gathered her courage and knocked on his office door, her heart racing.

Unfortunately, her drunken confession came at the wrong time as Professor Lupin had just finished a particularly hard day of work and was resting in his office as he enjoyed his well-earned drink. He wasn't in the mood to entertain any conversations, let alone one with a drunken student, so he ignored the knock on the door and continued sipping on his drink, assuming that whoever it was outside the door would eventually get the hint and leave him alone. But she continued knocking on the door, oblivious to Lupin's intentions and wanting nothing more than to finally tell him how she really feels.

Lupin eventually got up and answered the door, immediately realizing that it was Y/N , and annoyed that this drunken adventure wasn't ending anytime soon. Despite his annoyance, Lupin was still fond of her and knew that she had been having a rough time lately, so he softened his demeanor and asked, "miss Y/N, what are you doing knocking on my door at this time of night?" she sheepishly looked down at her feet as she answered, "I-I wanted to tell you that I have feelings for you." Lupin's expression turned to one of confusion as he asked, "Is this some kind of joke?"

Y/N realized that she had to be serious if she wanted Lupin to take her seriously. She met Lupin's gaze and said in a determined tone, "No, this is no joke. I really do have feelings for you." Lupin's face softened further as he said, " I don't know what to say. I'm flattered, but we can't be together. I'm your professor, and-" she interrupted him, saying, "I'm not asking you to be my boyfriend, I just wanted you to know that I have real feelings for you."

Lupin looked at her, trying to figure out what to say next. He didn't want to hurt her feelings but at the same time, he couldn't ignore the fact that he had always been attracted to her. Eventually, he took a deep breath and said, "Listen Y/N… I can't act on any personal urges I may have for you. It's against school policy -and-"

Y/N interrupted him again as she stepped closer to him, putting her hands on his arms and leaning in closer. "So you're saying you're attracted to me too?"

Lupin felt his face blushing as the tension mounted between them. "I can't -", he began to say but was stopped as she leaned in closer to him, bringing her face close to his. Lupin couldn't ignore the fact that she was looking at him with such desire. He took a deep breath and said, "This is not the smartest thing either of us could do, but..”

He led her inside and locked the door behind them. He pushed her against the wall, eager to fulfill their unspoken desires. Y/N couldn't believe that her night of liquid courage had paid off, but she knew that she wanted Lupin more than anything in the world at that moment.

As Lupin kissed her with all the passion he had been suppressing for so long, her heart raced with emotion. She wrapped her arms around Lupin's neck and let him take control of the situation. Lupin gently pulled her robes off as he kissed her neck and began to explore her body. Despite his initial reservations, he couldn't deny that he wanted to be with Y/N in this moment. He moved his lips down to her neck, kissing and sucking gently as he made his way down her body. She let out a soft moan of pleasure as Lupin's lips brushed against her sensitive skin.

He continued to explore her body with his mouth, devouring her sensitive skin with his kisses. As his hands groped her curves, Y/N felt her pleasure grow and she responded by running her hands through Lupin's hair, pulling him closer and pressing herself against him. Lupin was feeling more aroused than he had in years and he finally forgot about his worries and concerns. His focus was now completely on the woman in his arms and the joy she was bringing him in this moment.

Lupin and Y/N’s passion intensified as they kissed and groped each other, their bodies pressed tightly against each other. Lupin knew that what he was doing was wrong, but he was beyond the point of worrying about rules or consequences. He wanted Y/N and he was going to have her no matter what. her moans of pleasure grew louder as Lupin increased the intensity of his kisses, running his hands over her body and squeezing her curves. Y/N was lost in a state of blissful pleasure that was overwhelming and she knew that she never wanted it to end

His hands moved down to Y/N's panties, pulling them off to reveal her wetness. He slid a finger inside her causing her to moan louder. Y/N reached down and unzipped Lupin's pants, freeing his hard member. She stroked him, making him groan in pleasure. Lupin positioned himself between her legs and entered her slowly at first, but then picking up speed. They moved together in perfect harmony, their passion intensifying with every thrust.

Lupin grabbed Y/N's hair and pulled it back, exposing her neck. He bit down on it leaving a mark. Y/N moaned in pleasure, the pain only adding to the pleasure Lupin's thrusts became rougher and more aggressive, making Y/N scream with pleasure. He spanked her ass, leaving it red and raw. They were both lost in a world of rough intense pleasure with nothing else mattering but the ecstasy they were feeling

Lupin continued to spank Y/N's ass, each hit sending waves of pleasure through her body. She begged for more, wanting to feel the pain and pleasure mix together. Lupin obliged, hitting her harder and harder until she was screaming in pleasure. He pulled out and flipped her over entering her from behind.

Lupin continued to thrust into Y/N, his hands gripping her hips tightly. She moaned and cried out calling him "daddy" in a moment of intense pleasure. Lupin's desire for her grew even stronger at the sound of the nickname, and he pounded into her harder and faster until they both reached the peak of ecstasy together.

He growled in pleasure as he continued to thrust into Y/N with rough, intense strokes "You like it rough, don't you, baby?" he asked his voice filled with desire. Y/N moaned in response, her body shaking with pleasure. "Yes, daddy," she replied, her voice filled with need. Lupin's thrusts became even rougher, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room

he whispered dirty words into her ear, telling her how much he wanted her and how he was going to make her come. Y/N's moans grew louder and more intense as he continued to pleasure her with his rough, skilled hands

Lupin continued to thrust into Y/N with rough, intense strokes until he finally reached his peak. Lupin's climax was intense, his body shaking with pleasure as he came inside her with a groan. They both collapsed onto the bed exhausted and satisfied with their experience. The room was filled with the sounds of their heavy breathing.

Lupin pulled Y/N close to him and whispered in her ear, "That was amazing, baby" Y/N smiled up at him, feeling content and satisfied. "Yes, it was," she replied, her voice filled with pleasure. They both knew that what they had just experienced was something special, something that they would never forget.

[bibismovingcastle]

POWERFUL SUBLIMINAL METHOD (I tried it and it works)

(Click on the underlined texts to open the links)

Long time ago I saw this Post of this kind girl sharing her subliminal routine that gave her results after 11 days. She listened to subs for 2 years but with not success so she found her new routine. This is the og post so if you want to know more check her out 🩷

Other than her results (that are a lot, so check the og post) other 2 people experienced results for the first time.

1. A sub user tried it and in just 2 days she healed her pain in the hip that was going for months and lost 1 kg when she said that she used to lose 1kg in just a week. [og post]

2. Another girl used this method and the she woke up with lashes longer and nose smaller [og post]

Routine:

I’ll go to the point because I don’t want this to be a long post.

ABSOLUTE POWER’S BOOSTER: on loop for 30 minutes

ABSOLUTE POWER’S ABSOLUTE SUGGESTIBILITY: If you don’t know what is this, it’s a subliminal that makes your body,mind, subconscious suggestive to any external stimuli like subliminals, affirmations,meditations. So everything you affirm it will manifest. It lasts for 10hours so even if you stop listening to it it will work, so even bad and negative affirmations that you randomly think will manifest so I always recommend listening before going to bed or in a day without stress. Listen just once, 13 minutes (you can listen to it maximum 2 times please don’t listen to it for more)

MOAB 2.0: this is the most powerful booster out there. I recommend listening to the full version that is 45 minute but there is the lite version too that is shorter.

ISOCHRONIC TONES: there are tones that they have be listened while listening to your subliminal, not before not after but DURING. Going to make some tutorials for how to listen to a n audio while another audio is playing. (Info about this sub here) on how to listen to multiple subliminal at once, I post a tutorial in the end of this post check it out.

(OPTIONAL) OWN SUBLIMINAL: this is a short tutorial on how to do it.

YOUR PLAYLIST: ofc you will listen finally your playlist 🩷

SOME GOOD SUBLIMINALS RECOMMENDATION:

🍓 Absolute power powerful booster= you can never go wrong with this submaker. He has a lot of powerful subliminals check him out

🍓AFFIRMATION/SUBLIMINAL REAPEATER = I know you don’t always have time to listen twice your playlist so here some good subs for that:

sub 1 , sub 2 , sub 3

Useful link: HOW TO LISTEN TO AN AUDIO ON ANOTHER AUDIO

[cornsoupflavour]

New Year's Eve (AriaSaki NSFW Smut)

⚠️18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI⚠️

TWITCH AriaSaki x Fan!Male Reader

Tags: 1.9k words, wholesome, quickie, new year's kiss(?), creampie, hidden sex

At a New Year's Eve party held by an old friend, the loud music and laughter filled the room as guests socialized and mingled. You, Y/N, spotted a familiar face from the cosplay and gaming scene, Aria Saki. Her long, dark hair flowed gracefully, and her voluptuous figure was accentuated by her tight, red dress. You couldn't help but admire her from a distance.

Gathering the courage, you approached her and tapped her gently on the shoulder. She turned around, her doe-like eyes widening slightly, not recognizing you immediately. "Hello, I'm Y/N, a fan of yours," You nervously introduced yourself.

Aria's cheeks flushed a rosy shade as she smiled, "Oh, hi, Y/N. It's nice to meet you in person. I've seen your comments on my streams and social media." Her shyness was adorable, and it made you feel more comfortable around her.

You both chatted about your favorite games, cosplays, and food. Her passion for cooking was evident as she reminisced about the dishes she'd created for her friends. Your conversation flowed smoothly, the awkwardness fading away as you both discovered your shared interests.

The room was dimly lit by the glowing lights of the Christmas tree and decorations. The atmosphere was electric, yet cozy. You laughed and talked about your resolutions for the upcoming year. You could see the sincerity in her eyes as she spoke about her aspirations, and a connection began to form between the two of you.

Your hands brushed against each other as you each reached for a drink, and for a moment, you felt a spark. Aria's gaze met yours, and we both knew that this seemingly ordinary night had just become extremely special. The anticipation for the new year was palpable, but the anticipation between you felt even more electrifying.

As the night progressed, more people arrived, and the once intimate atmosphere transformed into a chaotic hubbub. You felt overwhelmed, the loud music pulsing through your body, and the crowds closing in. You noticed Aria's eyes darting nervously around the room, a clear sign of her discomfort.

You gently took her hand, leading her away from the madness. You passed by the living room, the kitchen, and finally reached a secluded bedroom. It was dimly lit, with soft pillows scattered across the floor. This seemed like the perfect refuge.

Once inside, Aria let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. "Thank you, Y/N. It's amazing how the chaos outside seems miles away in here," she whispered, glancing around the room.

You both sat down on the floor, getting comfortable. "So, what do you usually do when the crowds get to you?" you asked, curious about her coping mechanisms.

Aria thought for a moment before answering, "Usually, I retreat to a quiet place like this one, close my eyes, and focus on my breath. It calms me down and allows me to recharge before rejoining the fray." You were impressed by her self-awareness and her strategies for managing her anxiety.

You continued to chat about yourselves, your passions, and your insecurities. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, and you both found yourselves connecting on a deeper level. The trust and comfort between you grew, and you could feel the tension of the night dissipating.

The room was peaceful, the soft hum of the heating system providing a soothing background sound. Outside, the party raged on, but neither of you seemed to mind. In this haven, the two of you were content, sharing a quiet moment amidst the chaos.

As the night wore on, you found yourselves discussing the creative processes behind cosplay, streaming, and cooking. You were both intrigued by the others' methods, sharing your thoughts and secrets with one another. Your bodies were close, your legs touching as you sat side by side on the floor.

Aria leaned in, her face inches from yours, a look of intense interest in her eyes. "So, Y/N, when you're designing a cosplay, how do you visualize the final product? What's your go-to method?" She bit her lower lip, her breathing shallow.

You answered, "Well, I usually start by sketching, trying to get the proportions and details just right. Then, I'll gather fabrics, patterns, and trims that match my vision. It's a long and meticulous process, but the result is always worth it."

You could see a glint of admiration in her eyes as she nodded. "I'm the same with cooking. I'll picture the dish in my head, the textures, the flavors, and then I'll gather the ingredients and start the physical process. It's just... satisfying when it all comes together."

The air between the two of you was electric, charged with the tension of your growing attraction. You could feel your heart racing, and you knew Aria was experiencing something similar. Without warning, your lips met her neck, giving her a soft, lingering kiss. She gasped, her eyes fluttering closed.

Aria returned the gesture, leaning into you, her lips trailing down your jawline. "Aahh, Y/N, mmmhh..." Her words trailed off, a contented moan escaping her lips.

You could no longer fight the desire that was building between the two of you. You gently moved Aria to the bed, your hands exploring her body as she did the same to you.

As you rolled her dress down, Aria's breath hitched. "Mmmm, Y/N... you feel... your hands… So gentle…"

You partly removed her dress, revealing her lace lingerie. You leaned in, taking a nipple into your mouth, flicking your tongue against it. Her hands became tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, as she moaned in delight.

Aria slipped her hand between your legs, her fingers deftly working your erection through your pants. "Gnnnngh... Y/N... oh, fuck... don't stop..."

In that moment, you both knew that this encounter would be one to remember. Your hands, mouths, and bodies moved in sync, exploring each other, creating a harmony that was both submissive and dominant.

Aria's hands fumbled with the buttons of your pants, freeing your hard cock. She pushed her dress up slightly, revealing her lace-clad ass as she straddled you on the bed. She could feel your erection pressing against her, the heat from your body driving her wild.

Her eyes met yours, her face flushed, and her breathing heavy. "Fuck, Y/N, I want you so badly," she whispered, her hand guiding your shaft to her entrance.

You groaned, "Aria, you have no idea how badly I want you, too."

Slowly, Aria lowered herself onto your cock, moaning loudly as the head of your shaft penetrated her. Her eyes fluttered closed, the feeling overwhelming her.

The two of you ground against each other, your hands roaming over each other's bodies. She leaned in, her lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss. Her moans grew louder, muffled by your mouth.

As Aria began to ride you, her hips moving in a seductive rhythm, you gripped her ass, guiding her, and adjusting her pace. "Oh, Aria... you feel so fucking amazing," you encouraged her.

Aria's moans grew louder as she began to ride you, her hips undulating in a hypnotic pattern. The feeling of her slick, hot walls gripping your shaft sent shivers down your spine. Your hands roamed her body, caressing her soft skin, pulling her closer, and guiding her movements. The rhythmic slapping of wet flesh against wet flesh filled the room, echoing the intensity of your passion.

You could feel the veins on your shaft straining, your need for release growing with every thrust. Your lips clashed against hers, tongues dueling for dominance, as your hands gripped her ass, pulling her down harder onto your shaft.

Aria's moans became even louder, the sound muffled by the deep, passionate kiss between the two of you. A bead of sweat rolled down her forehead as she rode you, her body a testament to the pleasure she was experiencing.

The sensations were driving you both closer to the edge. "Aria, fuck, you're so tight... so wet..." you groaned, your words laced with desire.

Aria leaned back, her eyes locked on yours. "Y/N, I can feel all of you inside me. I need more... I need you to take control," she pleaded.

You complied, firmly gripping her hips, you began to thrust up into her, driving yourself deeper with each powerful stroke. Aria's moans grew higher in pitch, her body quivering in response to your dominance. The two of you moved as one, a symphony of pleasure, building to a crescendo you both could feel in your cores.

She leaned back, her eyes locked on yours. "Mmmm, Y/N, don't stop. Please, I need you deeper inside me."

Aria's moans grew more desperate as you took control, your thrusts more forceful, her body responding to your demands. Her nails raked down your chest, leaving tender trails in their wake. Sweat glistened on both of your bodies, a testament to the heat that now filled the room.

The volume of your combined pleasure grew louder, the bed creaking under the pressure of your movements. Aria's body began to tense, her eyes fluttering closed as her climax neared. "Y/N... I'm... so close..." she gasped, her nails digging deeper into your skin.

The sound of the party outside grew fainter as the world around you narrowed to the intense connection between the two of you. You knew you couldn't hold back any longer. "Aria, cum for me. Let's reach this together," you urged her, your voice thick with lust.

You could feel the clock ticking closer to midnight, the anticipation and excitement building. Your thrusts and her movements became more aggressive, the sound of skin slapping filling the room.

Aria's breath grew ragged as her climax neared. "Gnnnngh, Y/N, I'm... I'm almost there... please don't stop...","Don't worry, Aria, I won't. You're bringing me right there with you," you promised, your own release imminent.

The sounds of revelers counting down to the new year could faintly be heard. The moment the clock struck twelve, Aria's body tensed, her moans becoming loud and unrestrained. Her orgasm rippled through her, her nails digging into your chest.

The sensation of her orgasm was enough to push you over the edge. You thrust into her one last time, your release filling her. Aria's orgasm ripped through her once more, her body convulsing as she cried out your name. The sensation was enough to push you over as well, your release filling her in a rush of pure bliss. As the wave of ecstasy subsided, you both collapsed onto the bed, Aria laying on your chest, her breath hitching as she recovered from her climax.

As you lay there, entwined, the sounds of the party outside grew louder. You both shared a tender kiss, your bodies still shuddering from the intense pleasure. The new year had brought with it a new, intimate chapter for the two of you.

You whispered to Aria, "Happy New Year, Aria. May this year bring us even closer," as you both cuddled, the world outside the room faded, leaving only the two of you, basking in the afterglow of your passionate encounter.

Aria smiled softly, her eyes meeting yours as she whispered back, "Happy New Year, Y/N. I have a feeling this year will be one to remember." She nuzzled her head against your chest, the warmth and closeness of your embrace offering a comforting end to the eventful evening.

[Let me know if you want a part two or if you want me to make this a long running story. And let me know who else you'd want to see a fic about.]