#reblogging this one last time before i go

[bloatedandalone04]

Don’t Ever Leave My Side

➪the one where you finally let jake take you out on a date after countless rejections, but it turns out that the guy you convinced yourself he was, isn’t who he is at all.

Warnings: smut, fluff, pda, unprotected sex, swearing, pining, oral (f receiving), jake being whipped bc i missed writing for him

Word Count: 4.7k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

You weren’t sure why you had reapplied your makeup for the third time now after deciding that it didn’t look good enough. And you opted to leave your hair how it normally looked right after a shower and to not touch it, but here you were, hastily curling it as you checked the time on your phone for the fourth time since plugging in the curling iron. 

None of it mattered at all. It was just a stupid date. One stupid date you promised Jake Seresin you’d go on with him, that was it. 

The guy had been asking you out for months now, and you’ve shut him down every time since you knew how he was with the women who frequented the Hard Deck. He was a player, in the sky and on the ground, and you wanted nothing to do with it, which is why you’ve rejected him more times than you can count on both hands. 

Yet he was persistent, the fucker. To get him to stop, you agreed to go out with him the last time you bumped into him, and that date was scheduled for tonight. In exactly four minutes, but you were planning on being late just to fuck with him, because there was no way you were going on a second date with him. No way. No.

You just finished your hair when your phone went off with a text, and you glanced down at it as you unplugged the curler and set it down on the counter. 

Jake Seresin: I’m here, gorgeous. Hope you’re prepared for tonight ;)

For some reason, reading that gave you butterflies in your stomach, and you quickly typed out a response before setting your phone down and pulling on the simple black dress you picked out for tonight.

Nice. I’m not ready yet.

The dress was tight around your torso area but got looser around your thighs, and the straps were so thin, you had to wear a strapless bra so it didn’t look dumb. The hem around your chest was lace and provided a small amount of cleavage that left nothing to the imagination, so yeah. It was very simple. 

After checking yourself a respectable three times, you slide on your ankle boots and grab your purse. 

You wondered if Jake was annoyed that you took so long to get ready since he read your text but never responded to it, but you were wrong as you opened your front door and saw him leaning against the passenger side of his truck with a stupid fucking smile on his face. “Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted as you huffed and turned to lock the door. When you made your way over to him, Jake moved out of the way and opened the passenger door for you. “You look stunning.”

“Thanks,” you drag the word out a bit as you hop up onto the seat and place your hands on your lap as he shuts the door behind you. A few seconds later, he was sitting beside you in the driver’s seat as he put the truck into drive. “Where are we going?”

Jake grinned over at you as he flicked the radio on, and some country song began playing quietly through the speakers as he answered, “It’s a surprise. Shocking, I know, but if I’m only getting one shot at this, I’m gonna do it right,”

“Great, I love surprises,” you mumbled, looking out the window before quickly looking back at him once you further processed his words. “And there’s no if, Jake. You are only getting one shot at this.”

You weren’t sure whose head you were trying to get that through at this point. 

But Jake wasn’t fazed as his grin grew. “Better make sure I don’t fuck this up then,” he said, glancing over at you. “I promise, I’ll make it count.”

He sounded so excited and he looked hot in his jeans and button up and jacket. You hated it, because you’ve seen him with other girls before, and he never put on this nice of an outfit, and he never gave them the amount of attention he’s already given you since you left your house. 

And you were even more annoyed when he pulled into a parking spot right outside your favorite Italian restaurant ten minutes later. You looked at the bright sign that said the name of the restaurant with squinted eyes before looking over at Jake. “Why are we here?”

Jake looked a bit panicked for a second as he paused mid-way through taking off his seatbelt. “Is this not…I thought this was your favorite place to eat at,” he sounded nervous now and you loosened up a bit as you took off your own seatbelt. 

“It is,” you confirmed, “But how did you know that?”

Jake looked more relaxed as he finally let his seatbelt go and opened the door. “Bird Boy told me,” he said and you groaned. 

“Damnit, Rooster,” you muttered as you grabbed your bag and reached for the handle, but Jake was already there and opening the door for you. “I’m going to yell at him the next time I see him.” You state as you get out of the truck.

Bradley was your best friend, and the guy who had witnessed a lot of your rejections to Jake firsthand. You weren’t all that surprised that he felt a little bad for the blond and helped him out with this, because your best friend was a decent guy and one of your favorite people. But you were still going to yell at him.

“Really?” Jake laughed as he placed his hand on the small of your back and led you towards the doors of the restaurant. “Because I can’t stop thanking the guy, and that’s kind of a big deal for me.”  

You huffed out a laugh in return as he guided you inside, and a few minutes later you were sitting at a booth with him with your drinks placed in front of you. Your menu was flat on the table while he held his up, his eyes flickering over the options as you subtly watched him. 

“What’s good here?” He asked, “This is my first time in this place.”

You picked up your margarita with a shrug, “Everything, from what I can tell,”

Jake glanced at you over the top of his menu, his brows furrowing as he realized that you didn’t even look at your own. “What are you doing? What’s wrong?”

You set your drink down and leaned back against the booth. “I know what I’m getting. I get it every time,”

Jake’s lips turned upwards at that as he set the menu down and slid his water closer to him on the table. “Oh, you’re one of those people, huh?” He asked with a smirk as he sipped a bit of the bland drink. “You don’t like, I don’t know, trying something different?”

“If it’s not broken, don’t fix it?” You offer with a raised brow as you watch him set the water back down. “You’re seriously not drinking tonight?”

He shook his head as he closed the menu and pushed both yours and his to the edge of the table. “No. I want to be sober the whole time so I can remember this night with vivid detail. I think you deserve that,”

Your face heated up as you cleared your throat, his words doing a number on you as you sat up a bit. “What are you getting?” You quickly change the subject as you felt the sudden urge to kiss the guy you’ve been avoiding for months now. 

“What are you getting?” He asked back and you narrowed your eyes as you told him your usual order. “Perfect, I’ll get that too. Maybe I’ll like it enough to order it every time I come here.”

And that was how you found yourself eating identical meals not long after, and a blush seemed to be stuck on your face as you answered every single question he had for you. Your favorite color, your favorite song, the teacher you hated most in high school, your worst dating experience, all of it.

For some reason, this wasn’t bad. This wasn’t bad at all. Talking with Jake felt easy, like you could do it all the time and never complain about it. Why was this shaping out to be kind of the perfect first date? Why was he kind of being the perfect gentleman? 

He seemed so interested in you, like how he was during the build ups to him eventually asking you out. You were beginning to feel bad about constantly saying no, because you were actually having a really good time with him. 

“Well?” You started as Jake asked for the bill. “How was it? Will you be returning just to order that every time?” You gestured to the empty plates in front of you and Jake shrugged as he took out his wallet. 

“It wasn’t bad. Your taste in food is pretty decent,” he hummed as the waitress, who had been checking Jake out the whole night and who hadn’t been looked at by him for more than a total of six seconds, placed the bill on the table. You reached for your own wallet but he stopped you and handed you his keys instead. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Wait in the truck for me, okay?”

You take the keys from him and give the waitress a soft smirk as you stand up, noticing the scowl that had formed on her face as she heard the affectionate nickname Jake gave you. 

Less than a minute later, Jake was beside you in his truck again as he backed out of the parking space with one hand. You were feeling a bit shy now as you looked over at him and took in just how handsome he actually is. “Thanks for tonight,” you say quietly as he pulls out onto the road. “It was kinda…it was fun.”

“You think it’s over?” He laughed softly as he glanced over at you in the dark truck. “I only get you to myself for one night, you really think I’m just taking you out to dinner?”

Your face heated up for the hundredth time tonight as you quickly broke eye contact. “Oh…where else are we going?”

Jake looked back at the road as he drove with one hand, and you were sure he wasn’t aware of just how hot that was. “To the place we first met,” he answered simply and your eyes widened a bit as you laughed.

“The Hard Deck?”

“Yeah,” he grinned over at you. “I have to show at least one person from work that I actually managed to get you to go out with me. And Bird Boy doesn’t count.”

You weren’t entirely sure why, but that had you smiling like a love struck teenager the whole ride, and when you arrived at the Hard Deck, you allowed Jake to lead you inside with his hand placed firmly on your hip. 

A few of his coworkers smirked at him, a few looked beyond shocked, and then there was Bradley, who avoided eye contact with you as soon as you entered the bar. Okay, so maybe you wouldn’t be yelling at him later. 

The Hard Deck was rowdy as usual, but Jake wasn’t paying attention to anyone but you, and you realized just how much you liked being the center of his attention. 

And he was completely sober as he held you in his arms as the two of you swayed to an old song playing on the jukebox. He looked content and so handsome, you had to look away as you mumbled, “Okay, so maybe this isn’t so bad after all,” and pressed the side of your face against his chest. “You kind of planned the most perfect first date, Jake. I’m actually so surprised.”

Your head vibrated a bit when he laughed and tightened his hold on you as if he was scared to let you go. “Well, when you’re determined to make someone fall head over heels for you, you’ve got to put in a bit of effort,” he said and your whole body heated up in a blush. “So, uh…does this mean there’s gonna be a second date?”

You pull back slightly and look up at him. “That depends on you,” came your quiet response as you slid your hands up his back. “You’ve been the most perfect gentleman tonight, and you’ve been so sweet, but will it be like this every time? Or was this just a show for tonight?”

Jake lifted a hand and brushed some of your hair behind your ear, his thumb stroking your cheek after. “You deserve to be treated right, and I want to be the person to do that. I want to be the perfect guy for you, Y/n. You’re special to me,” he said and sounded so genuine, you had no choice but to believe his words. “Give me a chance to show you that I’m not the stuck up ladies man you think I am. I’m falling for you…and I don’t want to mess this up.”

There it was. Jake had just put his heart on his sleeve for you, and now it was completely up to you what happened next. 

You press your lips together and look down at the wooden floor of the bar. “I was wrong about you. You’re not the player I thought you were. And honestly, I don’t care about how many women you’ve been with. The guy you’ve been tonight…it’s a different side of you, Jake. Or maybe it’s who you’ve been this whole time and I’ve just been too stubborn to see it,” you murmur and place your hands flat on his chest as you look back up at him. “The guy you are right now, I can see myself with him. With you. Tonight has been…perfect, in every single way. You’ve been perfect, Jake.”

There was your own confession that, early this morning, you would’ve never said out loud, but things had clearly changed. 

Jake smiled and leaned down to brush his lips against yours in a teasing kiss. “You haven’t seen anything yet, sweetheart,” he whispered against your mouth before pulling back to look into your eyes. “So why don’t we skip right to the part where you agree to a second date?” He asked in a deep voice as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer to him.

You laughed, looking up at him with unguarded eyes. “I think it’s safe to say you got that second date. And the third. And the fourth,” you grinned, curling your fingers around his jacket as your gaze intensified a bit. “Tell me something, does the perfect gentleman kiss on the first date? Because that teaser you just gave me wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy what I’m feeling right now.”

Jake’s smile grows before he leans down and presses his lips to yours in a searing kiss. It starts off somewhat soft, and he lets you take the lead as you kiss him a bit deeper, and then his tongue was pushing past your lips and brushing against yours. 

It was clear from the kiss that he had been holding back his desire for you for months, and you suddenly didn’t regret pushing him away so much, because it allowed you to feel every inch of his want for you with every brush of his mouth against yours. 

After a few more seconds, he breaks the kiss. “There you go,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your puffy bottom lip. “But that’s just one of many. I plan on kissing the fuck out of you on every single one of those future dates.”

A content hum leaves your lips, a feeling of excitement for the future settling in your bones as you lean up and kiss him again. Soon enough you’d become addicted. You were sure of it. 

Your fingers slide into his hair as the music continues to play and the patrons of the bar chat amongst themselves, not paying either of you any attention as you lose yourselves in each other. 

Jake’s hands grip your waist tighter, pulling your chest against his. “You’re mine now, Y/n,” he mumbled when he finally broke the kiss after a few minutes, and you held back a squeal at just how good that sounded. “I’ll make you happy, I swear it.” 

You bite down on your lip and trace the sides of his face with your fingers. “Any chance the perfect gentleman takes me to bed on the first date?” You playfully asked, but you were also very serious, even if you thought that you should probably wait to have sex. Maybe until the second date. That seemed long enough. 

“Patience, baby,” he rasped, tugging at your bottom lip with his thumb. “A perfect gentleman knows how to build anticipation.”

He tucks a few strands of hair behind your ear as you hum quietly, threading your fingers through the hair on the back of his neck as you try not to squeal again at the cute pet name. 

“Besides, I have a feeling you’re going to be worth the wait. I know it’ll be…fucking amazing between us,” he added, brushing another soft kiss to your lips. “Don’t worry, but by the end of our second date, I’ll give it to you so good, you’ll still be sore when we go on our third date.” 

You grin excitedly and nod. “It’s okay,” you whisper, “I can wait. I know that now, Jake. You’re worth the wait.”

Jake smiled down at you before kissing you one last time then taking your hand and leading you towards the bar. 

-

A couple weeks, and several dates later, you and Jake are officially together and crazy in love with each other. 

The realization that you had only pushed him away for so long because you were so into him was a tough pill to swallow, but when you finally got it down, you threw yourself headfirst into this relationship with him, and neither of you planned to look back. 

It became official shortly after the first date, where he drove you home, kissed you sweetly, then left you wanting more. By the end of the second date, Jake stayed true to his promise and fucked you so good into his mattress, you were addicted by the time the sun came up. 

You’d both been insatiable since then, which wasn’t all that surprising. The chemistry between you two had been undeniable from the start, so of course the sex was fucking amazing. 

Now, having just gotten back to his place after your eighth date, you and he can’t keep your hands off one another as you stumble through his front door, your mouths connected and your hands all over each other. 

You pull off his jacket and let it fall to the floor of the entryway while he helps you slide off your heels, your mouths meshing noisily together. He kicks the door shut before reaching down to grab the backs of your thighs, never breaking the kiss as he lifts you into his arms. He begins to walk towards his bedroom, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he pulls away. “I’m gonna take you slow and deep tonight,” he mumbled against your lips. “Wanna drag it out this time.”

He was referring to the previous date, when he fucked you hard and fast into his couch while you screamed your throat raw, and the reminder of it just turned you on even more. 

Jake lays you down on his bed before standing back up and working on ridding himself of his belt. You lean back on the bed, pulling your dress off to leave you in a matching black lace lingerie set that paired sinfully well with your thigh high stockings. 

Leaning back on your elbows, you spread your thighs and beckon him to you with a curl of your finger. “Come here,”

Jake’s eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you. He’s seen you naked countless of times by now, but seeing you in something so effortlessly hot was something else, especially since he knew exactly what the black fabric was hiding from him. 

His hands reach down to pull off his belt and he shrugs off his clothes, leaving on his boxer briefs for now and showing off just how hard you made him through the thin material. 

Crawling onto the bed, he positions himself between your thighs, his lips peppering kisses along your stomach as his fingers tease the edge of your panties. “God, you’re fucking stunning,” he mumbled, running his fingers over the flimsy fabric. “Tell me, baby, were these expensive?”

You hum, looking down at him as you shrug. “A little, but not too bad,”

Jake smirked, mumbling a quick, “Good,” before he ripped the delicate fabric and tossed it aside, revealing your slick folds to his needy eyes. 

“Jake!” You gasped, your eyes widening as his big hands gripped the backs of your thighs and spread your legs a bit wider. 

“I’ll buy you more, one in every color,” he promised, grinning up at you before looking back down at your heat. He runs his fingers through your wetness, a satisfied hum leaving his mouth, “You’re so wet for me, baby. All for me.”

Then he was burying his face between your thighs, his tongue poking out to lick a stripe up your entrance before sucking on your clit. “Oh, fuck,” you whined and he groaned, sending a jolt of pleasure up your body. You shuddered, your muscles tightening as you reached down to tangle your fingers in his hair. “Just like that, Jake. Feels so good.”

Jake’s tongue pressed more firmly against your clit while his fingers gathered more of your wetness before sinking knuckle-deep inside you. He fucks them in and out of you as his teeth gently nip at your sensitive bundle of nerves, and you fell back onto his pillow as he devoured you. 

The sight of you looking already so fucked out with your hair draped across his pillow had him refraining from bucking his hips against the bed, because it was something he had been dreaming about seeing for months. He was still kind of shocked that he could now see it whenever he wanted.

“Fuck,” you gasped, arching your back as he guided your legs to rest over his shoulders. Your fingers were pulling on his hair pretty hard, and he fucking loved it. He loved every single second he spent with you, and he couldn’t get enough of your sweet taste, your soft moans and the fact that you had finally, finally given him the chance he’s been craving for so long. 

You were finally his, and he was never letting you go. 

“Cum for me,” he mumbled, flicking your clit with his tongue as he curled his fingers deep inside you. “Cum all over my face, baby. Let me taste it.”

If there was one thing Jake knew how to do, it was to spew the most filthy fucking things to you. And he knew you loved it. He found that out pretty quickly the first time he took you to bed, and he was more than willing to delve into your desire for dirty talk. 

Like he suspected, your mouth parted in a loud moan as you tugged harshly on his hair, and a second later you were coming on his tongue and fingers. “Jake…holy fuck, baby,” you moaned as you writhed against his face. “Fuck…feels so fucking good.”

The taste of you on his tongue makes him groan, and he continues to ravish your pussy until you’re shaking and whimpering incoherently. Once you settled a bit, Jake lifted his head, his lips and chin soaked with your release as he grins up at you and begins to place kisses along your stomach while he pushes his boxers down. 

He hovers over you, his hands squeezing your breasts through your bra as he teases your quivering heat with the tip of his cock. “I need you, baby,” he mumbled, reaching down to grip his base as he coats himself in your arousal before slowly pushing inside you. “Fuck, you’re tight.” He groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder as he started to slowly rock into you.

His hand moves from your chest to grip your hips as he picks up the speed a bit, his body fitting perfectly against yours with each deep thrust,

“There you go,” he rasped, kissing along your neck. “Take it all, baby, every inch.”

You moan loudly as you arch your back, and you guide his hands around you to the clasp of your bra. “Fuck, Jake, you feel so good,” you whimpered, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist. 

Jake hums, expertly unclasping your bra before guiding the straps down your arms, all while keeping the pace of his thrusts. His eyes immediately lock onto your breasts, now bare to his dark eyes as they bounce with every movement. “You’re a fucking dream,” he mumbled, leaning down to wrap his lips around one of your nipples as he rocks his hips against yours. “You make me lose control, every single time.” He grunted through ragged breaths, his cock brushing against every hidden spot deep inside you. 

“Jake,” you moan desperately, guiding his mouth to yours in a messy kiss. “I love you.”

He groans, kissing you again as he feels himself close to coming already because you felt that fucking good. “I love you, too,” he rasped, his words muffled against your mouth. “So fucking much.”

You moaned, tugging on his hair as you lazily met his thrusts halfway. “I’m close,” you mumbled and he groaned in both pleasure and relief as he reached down to rub circles against your clit. 

“Me too,” he muttered, pinching and pulling at your bundle of nerves. “Cum with me, baby. Let go for me.”

A few seconds later, you were coming for a second time, but on his cock, and a couple thrusts later, he was too. He filled you up as his body shuddered, his lips pressing soft kisses to your neck as he fucked his seed deep inside you. 

Once you were both spent, he collapsed gently on top of you, keeping his cock lodged inside you as he cuddled you against his chest. “Stay with me tonight,” he begged quietly, turning you both on your sides and tucking your head under his chin. 

You smiled, nuzzling against his sweaty chest. “Where else would I be?”

Jake smiled back, pulling you impossibly closer. “What about tomorrow? Will you stay here tomorrow, too? We can have breakfast in bed,” he offered with a teasing grin on his lips. 

You hummed, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Pancakes or waffles?” You ask instead of answering him, confirming that you will be staying at his place for the remainder of the weekend. 

“Pancakes,” he replied, pulling back to press a chaste kiss to your lips. “And bacon. A fuckton of it.”

Even though this wasn’t the first time you would be spending the night in his arms, Jake still felt beyond happy that, after months of pining over you, he was given the chance to experience life with you. He was also really fucking excited to spend tomorrow morning with you in his bed. 

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he mumbled, holding you a bit tighter. “Wanted you.”

You go silent for a few seconds before pulling back to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m sorry I made you wait so long,” you whispered, tracing the curve of his bottom lip with your finger. “Truthfully, I didn’t think it could be this good. I was so wrong.”

Jake shakes his head, taking your hand in his and pressing a few kisses to your knuckles. “Don’t be sorry,” he said quietly. “It was worth it, all of it, if it meant we’d end up like this. Together.”

He leaned down to kiss you deeply, and you returned it instantly. “I love you,” you mumbled against his lips as you gently gripped his face. 

“I love you, too,” he said back and meant it with his whole heart as he rolled you onto your back again and settled on top of you.

Because without a doubt, his heart had been entirely yours since the second he saw you, and he knew that, he was just finally able to make you see it too.

[marigoos]

Hello this a long shot call, am a citizen of Palestine. I am here to request for your support to help get my insulin (Humalog), just an injection for today to save my life please I beg.I was diagnosized with type 1 diabetes and due to current situation in Gaza I'm unable to get my insulin injection as a result I'm here begging for little financial support to help me purchase insulin for this week, am having a balance of$168. Am sorry if am sending you again this request, kindly donate any amount please. My donation link is in my pinned post🇵🇸. Thank you and be blessed ❤️

THIS IS A KNOWN SCAM (SEE LINK HERE)

Funny seeing you here just two days after I warned a mutual about you :) I thought you recurring scammers had me pre-blocked after the last time I tagged every single soul I saw reblogging one of y'all's pinned posts. And you know what? I'll do it again. I don't care that it's 300+ people. You deigned to show your ass in my inbox, it would be rude not to answer appropriately!

IF YOU'VE BEEN TAGGED IN THIS POST:

1) don't be ashamed, it happens. I just ask that you kindly delete your reblog or edit it, and warn your followers

2) this is a known scam, they keep trying with new usernames. In general, the red flags here are: generated username (3 english words in a row), very low end goal (they're usually several thousands USD), Paypal (less protections), Humalog/insulin, they say they're vetted but not who vetted them, very recent blog with lots of reblogs of popular posts but unrelated to the topic.

Singularly they're not that weird, but if you see any of those elements you should be more wary and do some research before reblogging!

3) try to follow a scam buster, I follow @/kyra45 (or at least take note. She has some resources that can be useful to check every once in a while)

4) don't feel obligated to come and thank me or apologize for falling for it, that's a lot of you and only one of my inbox °v° it's ok, really, I get it. I've fallen for scams before, it's not your fault I swear

5) if you were tagged but never had anything to do with this scammer: I typed everything manually because it was faster, I may have made a mistake. Do contact me so I can mention the right person ^^"

Next day edit: got blocked, they graciously left another ask in my inbox so I'm adding some more people to my mentions list :3 please notice how they went overnight from magnificentdraginengineer - paypal name lavender namisi, to vallarysblog - paypal name vallary wanjala. They'll keep doing this so get familiar with the text of the ask instead of the name, it's going to serve you in the future

'Nother edit: changed url to loudduckcrown but paypal is still vallary wanjala

@judaswail @nothingventurednothinggained123 @sintribos @igothurtdoingsafetydance @freetobezii

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Down Home 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The world's most famous heroes walk into a small town diner and change your life.

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Note: Because of this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all to Jupiter and back. Take care. 💖

It’s a slow day. Every day is slow out in Tumble Down. The township’s name tells the whole story. Everything there is in decline. It’s hard to imagine there was ever a time when the people weren’t tiny and forgotten in the hubbub of the bigger world. Since the mines closed and the canning factory was outsourced, it feels even smaller. 

Smaller isn’t so bad. It’s simpler. You all know each other’s names and faces. You say hi and how are you and do what needs to be done. Simple is, simple as. 

You here there isn’t much to do in most small towns. Not for fun or for work. You’re one of the lucky ones. You got a job down at the diner in your sophomore year. It helped pay for your daddy’s new engine and since then, it keeps you all afloat in the rising waters of disparity as they close in on Tumble Down. 

You hum to the old radio that sits on the shelf you make sure to dust. The speakers crackle from time to time and the signal gets wonky in storm season, but the music’s never bad. It’s the classic stuff that always played in your mother’s kitchen. 

You wipe down another table. Not because it needs it, just because it’s something to do. The day has been long and listless. Even the breakfast rush was lower than usual. 

Darnell, the cook, whistles along from the back. Everyone knows he isn’t as mean as he looks. He just likes his space. 

As you go back to the counter and lean on it, staring at the ticking clock, a roar cuts through the distance. You blink and look up, narrowing your eyes at the dusty country road outside. Wind rustles through the tall wheat in the field opposite and the noise rumbles closer and closer. 

A man pulls in a motorbike. He’s going so fast that he has to circle the gravel lot before he can slow down. It’s not Lenny and his prized Harley but another man on a more modern-looking mount. Not far behind, another motorcycle zips through and the riders straddle their bikes as the survey the restaurant. 

You narrow your eyes. You probably need glasses but you make do. The last time you got your eyes checked, you didn’t have enough for the frames. 

The one man wears blue and red, an odd helmet on his head. Not a helmet at all but a sort of mask. The other man has dark hair to his chin and a beard to match. He’s all in black but his left arm shines with gold ripples. Not a sleeve, an arm, made of metal. 

“Oh my lord,” you murmur in shock, “Darnell!” You holler over your shoulder, “you’re not gonna believe this.” You turn to the window as he pokes his head around, “not sure I do myself. Tell me my eyes aren’t lyin’.” 

He looks above your head, an easy task for the mammoth cook. He hums and swirls around his spatula. “Thems those boys on the news. The one that was in the old war. Grandad’s battle.” 

“I’m not going crazy with boredom?” You bubble. 

He snorts. It’s as close to a laugh as you get from him. You spin back and hurry around the counter to grab a pair of menus. Still, you don’t want to seem too eager. You put down the menus and fiddle with a napkin holder instead. 

The bell over the door jingles and swipe up the menus and turn. You really can’t believe it’s them. Yet, as Captain America removes his cowl, you’re certain. They look just like they do on the TV. Even with your sight, you can tell. 

“Hello, fellas, how are you doin’ today?” 

The dark-haired one, the Winter Soldier, glances at the other, his cheek dimpling, “well... we’re... uh...” 

“We’re doing great,” Steve Rogers answers brightly. “Starving. You guys serve bacon? My buddy’s dying for some.” 

“Um, yes, sirs, yes. Can I sit ya down?” You ask, hugging the menus closer. 

“Please,” the Captain accepts as the other man stays silent and pensive, his eyes wandering down to the coffee stain on your apron. 

“Just here,” you sweep away and wave them on with you. You stop beside the nicest booth and lay down a menu on each side, “have a seat.” 

They do just as you bid. The blond puts his cowl on the table and unhooks the shield from his back to lay on the far end of the seat. He smooths back the sweaty strands of hair as his companion stretches his metal fingers. You sway nervously by the table, twitching as you remind yourself how to do your job. 

“Well, can I get ya started with coffee? You look beat from the road.” You beam with the smile Mr. Welk says could outshine the sun. 

“Not just the road,” the dark-haired one mutters as he rolls his shoulder. The one that connects to his real arm. “I’ll take one, please.” 

“Can I get an orange juice, please,” the Captain asks. 

“Course ya can. I’ll be right back. You have a look at the specials and give it a think,” you bounce and spin around. 

You go to pour the orange juice and a cup of black coffee. Darnell lingers by the window. He only ever really appears to put a plate up but he watches the new arrivals. 

You bring their drinks and step back, clasping your hands behind you. 

“Did ya need cream or sugar for your coffee, sir?” You ask. 

“Black’s fine,” he assures. 

“No need for the sirs. Steve, Bucky,” Captain America insists, “we’re off duty.” 

“Right, sorry about that, ssss...Steve,” you correct yourself. “You need some more time?” 

“Think I’m decided,” Bucky intones, “what about you?” 

“Set,” Steve confirms, “I’ll have the sunny side up with toast and sausage. Can I get some fruit on the side as well, please?” 

He hands over the menu and you take it as you hold your smile. Your cheeks ache. Not because you have to force it but because you can’t stop. This is the most exciting thing to happen in Tumble Down ever. If Darnell wasn’t there, no one would believe you. 

“Overeasy, bacon, extra bacon too, and some french toast, and uh... home fries.” Bucky offers up the second menu, “please and thank you.” 

“Alrighty,” you preen, “I’ll put your order in.” 

“Got it,” Darnell growls over the empty diner. 

“He’s got good hearing,” you giggle nervously as you look between the men. “Ummmm, sorry, I’ll leave ya be.” 

“You’re not bothering,” Steve assures. “I can see you’re dying to ask.” 

He gives a gentle smile. 

“Nah, oh, gosh. I’m sure ya get it all the time. I don’t wanna be one of those,” you put your hands up. “Really, you all look like you could use the peace and quiet.” 

“Well, actually, I’ve been stuck with this meathead for days,” Bucky scoffs, “so please, I’d love to hear someone else’s voice.” 

You laugh again. They’re funnier than you expect. They always look so serious on the TV. 

“What... what are y’all doing here in Tumble Down? It’s a bit far from... anywhere.” You ask sheepishly. 

“Tumble Down? Is that what it’s called?” Steve scratches his neck above his stained collar. “Well, we couldn’t get a signal so we’ve just been riding through. Saw the sign down the way and figured we’d get a bite.” 

“He’s lying. He was falling asleep on his bike,” Bucky teases. 

“Sure,” Steve shakes his head. “Only ‘cause I’m tired of you.” 

You giggle again, “I thought y’all were friends.” 

“Friends, partners, cursed with each other, have your pick,” Bucky snorts. 

“He’s playing,” Steve says. “Look, we’re boring. Despite what you think. We’re a couple of old men bickering with each other. What about you? What about Tumble Down?” 

“Ah, nothing really, sir. Steve,” you squeeze the menus tight at the edges. “Nothing going on since the coal law and that. Everyone’s all but run out. All but us.” 

“Just you? Your family?” Steve wonders. 

“Jesus, Steve, nosy much?” Bucky says over the brim of his mug. 

“Sorry. He’s right. Like I said. Crotchety old man. I talk to the pigeons.” 

You laugh again, “oh my, you are a hoot!” You slap your thigh emphatically, “I’m still my ma and pa. It’s just the three of us. They need help with the animals and that.” 

“Animals?” Steve wonders, his posture shifting towards you. 

“Chickens, cows. They got a farm. Was my grandpa’s. And his ma kept it going after he didn’t come home from... well, you’d know more about that time than me, I think.” You give a forlorn look to the floor. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry about your grandfather. Great grandfather,” he corrects himself. 

“Lotta good men gone,” Bucky mulls grimly. 

“Yeah, my great granny said as much. I wouldn’t know though, but I heard the stories,” you dare to look at them again. “Sorry to bring up the bad memories.” 

“Nah,” Bucky waves you off casually. “I got this nifty arm outta it.” 

“And I got a shield so, you know, not all losses,” Steve chuckles. 

“I s’pose,” you agree. “I’m gonna check on that food for ya. You good with your coffee?” 

Bucky raises the mug, “delicious.” 

You nod and turn with a swish of your skirt. You go up to the window and look over the ledge. “How’s it going, Darnell?” 

“Going. I’m happy it ain’t Raylene here. She’s got a mouth on her, don’t she? Them sort don���t deserve that trouble,” he tisks. 

“They’re nice. And Raylene is too. She’s just... Raylene,” you say, “can I help with anything?” 

“I don’t wanna be rude but I’m tired of tellin’ ya to stay outta my kitchen. You know the grill likes to spit,” he shakes his head. “You go, I’ll let ya know when it’s ready.” 

“Alright,” you back away and turn back. 

Steve and Bucky lean over the table, their voices low as they chat. As you move around behind the counter, they both sit up and the former clears his throat. You smile as you take the cloth from your apron pocket and wipe the already clean counter. 

As the radio buzzes, you hum without thinking. Stevie Ray Vaughan’s smoky voice mingles with the emotion plucked through electric strings. Your dad’s a big fan. He has old tapes with concerts on them and even went to one himself. 

The bell rings and you nearly jump out of your shoes. You turn and scoop up the plates as you thank Darnell. He grumbles that he’s going out to have a smoke; his code for having a Tootsie Pop by the backdoor. 

You bring the meals over to the table and set them down before the men. Their gazes make you sweat. It’s all a little more intense with no one else there. 

“Thank you,” Steve says and Bucky echoes him. 

“Not at all. Anything else? Water? Ketchup?” 

“It all looks great as is,” Steve says, “you got a nice voice.” 

“Oh, really? Ha, I was just humming out of tune. Sorry if I was too loud.” 

“Not at all,” Bucky picks up his fork as he leans forward. He tilts his head. “You know this one?” 

“Sure do. It’s Fleetwood Mac,” you answer. “One my all times.” 

He grins and nods as he looks at Steve. Steve watches you with a smile of his own. 

“Do you sing?” He asks. 

“Me? Only in my shower or to the chickens. They usually hide in the henhouse then.” You tinkle with laughter. 

“Ah,” Steve nods. 

“But if... if ya really wanna suffer, I could try it,” you smile, “but uh, you know, Stevie Nicks, she’s one of a kind.” 

“I’ve had worse,” Steve says. 

You look between him and Bucky. You chew your lip and think. You follow the song as you try to recognise which verse it is. You squint and perk up as you catch your place. 

“You just let me know when you’ve had enough,” you say before you start. Not only can you tell your pa that you met the super soldiers, you can tell him you sang for them. It’ll be a nice bit of excitement for the dinner table. 

[paper-mario-wiki]

i hope this alright to ask and i’m trying to phrase it as politely as possible: i’ve seen you reblog/commission art that portrays you in a few really different ways. (and draw yourself in a few different ways.) do you like being drawn as a skinny anime girl/do you prefer being drawn that way? generally i see people say skinny-fying anybody in fanart of them is rude. i’m curious about your thoughts on it, bc you’ve very well spoken and i’m sure you’ve thought about it before

whenever i come across as overly skinny in a commission, it's usually not because i told them to make me skinny, but because i didnt go out of my way to ask them to draw me large.

while it's not something im ashamed of, it is something i often feel trapped in. to be clear, i dont mean how fat i am, i mean how Large i am. im 6'1" with a big head and a broad chest, and those are things that will remain true about me until i die-- not only because dramatic cosmetic skeletal surgeries like that dont exist, but also because even if they did i'd have to cut out parts of myself to fit into a smaller vessel, and that feels wrong.

there's a sort of existential dysphoria i have about my body. i dont think it's an ugly or bad body-- in fact i think ive gotten pretty hot in the past 2 years. i just dont like that it's my only choice forever. imagine if you were in a perfectly comfortable position on the couch, but then someone came along and forced you to hold that position for 82 years, and then encased your body in concrete to be sure you cant move. that's kinda how it feels.

most of the skinniest versions of me (most of the anime ones, like the typing one i posted last night and the one i use for the visual novel posts) specifically come from Skeb, where you can only contact the artist a single time and then you have to wait for your commission without contact. in that limited frame, i like to put across the parts of myself that i actively enjoy, rather than the parts of myself that i am typically obligated to present.

do i feel bad about this omission of facts? yeah, i guess i kind of do. it makes me feel like im betraying my fellow beautiful big bitches out there. but i think that if i were to agonize over what a piece of art im commissioning of myself and for myself might mean to other people before i start to spend my money on it, i think i'd rather just never post them.

[theoxenfree]

LUCID

sleep paralysis demon x reader | 3k | 18+

you've never known a true, good night of sleep in your entire life. when your doctor and best friend, dr. sujay patel, offers to vouch for you as the perfect candidate for a "last resort" sleep study and medication trial, you don't have high hopes. the first night of the trial, things go sideways very quickly.

warnings; technically somnophilia, dubcon, hair-pulling, restraint, some eerie/unsettling details, breech of patient-doctor boundaries, alcoholism, implied addiction/addictive personality, academic cheating, some culturally sensitive discussion, roughly proofread.

this is the first concept piece for my upcoming sleep paralysis demon x reader story!! to help me shape the story, pls answer feedback questions + reblog!!!

Children at your daycare liked to draw you fanciful pictures of the other lives they lived in their dreams during afternoon nap time. You were shown orange tabby cats with green eyes garbed in full-plates of knight’s armor, brandishing a fish sword against a foe to save the world. Most often, they dreamed of their families and drew bright, brave versions of themselves holding hands with a parent, a sibling, a bipedal family dog with an electric collar. A few of the children never smiled in their self-portraits.

The proportions of everything were always silly: gigantic tree trunks with tiny, green bundles sitting atop of them, three enormous fruits supported by brittle vines and growth in bushes, cats and dogs with ears as tall as their bodies, Mom with purple skin instead of brown, Big Sis looking particularly volatile with a theratrically large snarl. Despite this, the children beamed in pride whenever yesterday's drawings would come down off the wall to be replaced with the new.

For some of these kids, this was their own equivalent of having art hung on a refrigerator; to you, it evoked dull, thready jealousy because they were in possession so simple, so biologically normal to them and everyone else around them that to be incapable of the same thing was, surely, a major defect.

Sleep was already a treasure you were seldom allotted the pleasure of greedily surrendering to, but to dream sounded like a terrifying experience to you altogether. It took work; a stringent routine of warm showers (hot and scalding water was forbidden), with an array of chalky, dissolvable tabs and shower gels and shampoos and moisturizers and essential oil dehumidifiers and soy candles and hot tea and special pillow sleep spray you’d seen in an online ad while thumbing through socials.

It took pajamas that were loose, soft but not silky, it took a satin bonnet and a satin eye covering (the kind with pockets for your eyelashes to move), comforters soused in lavender spray meant to magically work out the tightness in your shoulders and calves without the need of paying for a masseuse’s bony elbow. It took purchasing a battery-operated alarm clock to wake yourself for work so you could shut off your phone and leave it plugged into the wall downstairs.

You'd nearly forgotten—you couldn't have sugar after half past six, you had to stagger your water consumption after that time as well because the urge to piss would keep you awake for hours after the fact. The television needed to be off once you finished putting away dishes after dinner.

If you were lucky, this would work and you'd sleep a total of two or three hours uninterrupted—never fully tipping over the edge of wakefulness into deep sleep, but enough to keep yourself going during the day, grocery shop, wrangle the small children, scrape at a bar, get dicked down into your mattress every now and then, and visit Sujay for your usual appointments.

“How do you feel about trying something different?” he always gestured to one of the modern-looking armchairs upholstered in teal polyester before bringing you a tea of some sort. Today was a floral white tea with a spoonful of honey. “Ah, my friend, I worry for you. We've done so many studies, we've tried so many different things. Does none of it help? At all?”

“Not really.” you admitted after a sip, singing your tongue once and placing aside the cup and saucer pair. “I don't know if I can keep doing this until the day I die, Sujay. What do you recommend next?”

Dr. Sujay Patel was your neurologist, an utterly brilliant man, and a close friend from your early university days. Despite the rest of your friend group falling apart, pulled in separate directions by the strings of fate and temptation of money, you'd managed to stay in contact with Sujay throughout grad school. There'd been an intermission, probably a period of two years, where you'd forgotten he even existed.

You were out making a disaster of your life on sleepless, drunken benders because you hoped enough alcohol would either knock you out or kill you. The normal distractions came with it: your entire family dynamic corroding and combusting, an ex getting too big for their britches, and a roommate suspiciously eager to rally behind that ex.

Sujay came back into the picture following a nasty incident of alcohol poisoning that left you bedridden in the hospital for a week. You had decided then, in that uncomfortable bed with their starchy, crunchy white sheets and the bathroom being too far away to simply get up and walk to, that you'd abstain from alcohol forevermore.

He'd seen you in a state of soul-weary disarray not long after you were discharged and had decided to take you on as a patient.

“Now, you have a choice here, just remember that.” Sujay sat adjacent to you in the exact chair you were in. He wasn't daunted by the heat from his tea and took some time with it, whether to savor the subtle notes of it or to consider his words, you weren't sure. “But, a colleague of mine at a… pharmaceutical company has been working to get an experimental sedative into some studies. Testing periods, I guess you could say.”

You're convinced by his dedication to his tea to pick up yours again. “Does it work?”

“As of now, one-hundred percent of those who have participated have reported high-efficacy, or at least have claimed it to be effective in some manner.” His mustache moved as he sipped. You drank as well. “I think you should submit to the study and if you're accepted into one of the control groups—commit to it. We're running out of options otherwise. I don't want you to start mixing up your own cocktail of things. All it takes is the wrong thing once, y'know?”

The chair groaned while you adjusted your weight in it. You sighed. “Would that once be such a bad thing, though? At least I could sleep.”

“I'm a doctor,” Sujay looked over his square-rimmed glasses at you, forehead wrinkles enormous, whites of his eyes showing more than the hazel of his irises. “Behave yourself.”

“Fine.” Mesmerized by the stray tea leaves that had managed to escape the metal ball steeper, you said, “tell me what I need to do.”

Sujay had sent you away that day with a whole host of follow-up appointments and a glowing review to his colleague in hopes of skipping the line as much as possible. Sometimes, it was beneficial to have friends in high places, especially when that means you get a call two days later for preliminary, formal interviews and an offer to participate in said study once clearances came through and your blood work came back as desired.

A month to the day when Sujay first mentioned the possibility of a magical cure all to your relentless insomnia, you were brought into a minimally furnished room—the standard, bland cookie cutter type that hadn't an ounce of personality—dotted from head-to-toe in stickers for neuromonitoring, heart rhythm, and whatever else they fancied, you supposed.

It was only after you had changed into your soft, but not too soft, pajamas and covered in wires that you were handed a tiny purple pill. The color of it was obviously a dissolvable casing and food coloring, but what amazed you was the fact a drug this small was meant to induce the best sleep of your life.

“Take the pill, drink at least four ounces of water, and lie supine.” The technologists outside your room, speaking into an intercom, elaborated afterward that they wanted you to stay on your back while you slept. You didn't bother to point out that you weren't stupid—just tired. “We understand that not everyone finds this position comfortable, but to receive adequate results and to measure your vitals at all times, we ask that you try your best.”

You weren't going to hassle them about this and did precisely as they instructed. Shoved the pill down the back of your throat, drank the bottled water, and tried to get comfortable on your back.

You closed your eyes.

A part of you wondered why you had assented to Sujay’s suggestion so easily, especially where everything else had failed. He was one hell of a friend, and had always been that way for you, but as a doctor, you wondered if two years of cheating through medical school, so as to not royally piss off his parents and be disowned for failing, was finally catching up with him somewhat.

You recalled being startled when he told you he hadn’t married yet and didn't intend to as some deep-rooted act of spite against his family and the traditions they had held over his head all his life. Traditions that had been weaponized against him, rather than supplement his life as an extension of his history, of the things he loved, of a chance to explore more of himself.

You had listened wordlessly the entire time he spoke about it, still sipping on his tea, the results from your latest brain scan clamped to a clipboard on his lap—

This wasn't working.

This was so stupid.

You opened your eyes and sat up in the stiff bed, carefully maneuvering your fingers around your orbital bone to force away the puffiness and exhaustion still lingering behind them. It was only as you rubbed your eyes that you noticed your face was empty of cold stickers and a thousand wires. You didn't hear distant blips in the machine measuring your heart rate, nor track the voices of anyone outside your door.

The room was still the same—the outdated, bulky dresser with claw feet, a few gray chairs you could buy on display in a window somewhere, a low oval table, a bedside table for your glass of water and a crisp, neatly folded change of clothes for the next day.

It was only unusual that you were bare of the technologist’s monitoring equipment and sitting amid an unfaltering, deep silence that amplified the sounds of your very existence. Your slow breaths with a quickening heartbeat, blood pumping in your ears, and the coarse rustle of bedsheets as you shifted around the mattress to bring some sense to what was going on.

Would the technologists have come into the room and removed everything from your body without waking you? More miraculously, without you rousing and throwing your hands on them for touching you first?

“Maybe the drug worked?” you had to consider the possibility, even though it still felt as far-fetched as the holistic medicine practitioners online telling you that an herbal cleansing juice could regenerate organs entirely. “Did I actually sleep? I don't remember dreaming, though. Aren't I supposed to dream?”

You looked to the one, single-paned window across the bedroom to spy how far along the morning had progressed, but found yourself sucking in and holding in a breath instead.

There, standing in your view of the outside, was the silhouette of a tall man. Everything about him was indistinguishable aside from the depth of darkness that made him up. Within the confines of the dim room, alight by a single lamp with an amber bulb that seemed to weaken by the second, this man stood apart from the shadows as something deeper, blacker, but corporeal.

He was every bit a part of the dark as much as he wasn't. And you couldn't tell if he was fading you or turned to look out the window at the parking lot two stories below.

“Hi—hello. Are—are you one of the techs?” you had finally let out that breath, now focusing on gauging the guy’s level of sociability, and by extension, his friendliness and the likelihood of him lunging at you. “I, uh, just would've really appreciated it if someone had woken me up before taking off the stickers.”

You were able to see out the window from the gaps around his body, taking note that it was still dark. Very dark. Beyond that, nothing else was discernible from where you sat and what he blocked.

The study wouldn't have finished yet.

Those techs would've taken precaution to wake you up if something had happened.

“Am I asleep?” you asked the wordlese man. “Am I dreaming now? Are you a dream? Is that what it's like?

You never imagined that there could be so much lucidity within a dream, a level of consciousness so similar to a state of wakefulness. When you thought about moving, you could perfectly flex your fingers, curl your toes into the high-pile carpet underfoot, touch the airy fabric covering your body and feel it touching you in turn.

How normal was this really, though? No one had ever told you about dreams like this. Theirs were always fragmented and discombobulated, just like the kids in daycare who drew pictures of pig astronauts and flame extinguishing spatulas. You knew of a rare few in the population capable of controlling their dreams, steering the outcome in the direction they pleased, but even those people were overrode by their own brains.

This was something completely different.

You became especially convinced of this when you thought the stifled air suddenly shifted with a light breeze, a soft whoosh in your ear. A chill erupted over you, making your skin burst with goose flesh, your brain chasing a shiver down your spine as if cold fingers stroked you all the way down the length of it. Those same fingers stayed low, hovering across your lower back before pushing into you, arching you down onto the mattress.

That freedom you thought you had only moments ago was gone, stolen by this invisible hand on your body that was rounding to you and reaching for your chest. Until now, you thought this had simply been a part of the dream—something you had believed to be in control in when the reality was much different—but, as the buttons on your sleep shirt unfastened before your eyes, the thin layers opening you to the cold, inky air, you weren't sure what to think, to do.

Another hand joined the first with long, heavy fingers to knead at your body and take your pants off of your hips until you were fully exposed to the darkness and the thing still dwelling within the room. It hadn't moved an inch since you'd noticed it a while ago; it never became any clearer, any more defined in the clothes or wore, and trying to look upon its face only filled you with puzzlement and dread.

The large hands were so cold despite all their movement on your hot skin, all of the work they did to start riling you up and making you moan. One of them groped your chest, felt your throat, squeezed your jaw as though to force your gaze at one point in particular (the ceiling), pushed apart your lips to dip into your mouth and wet its fingers on your tongue.

You did so as it was the only thing you could do freely right now.

Those fingers, covered in your spit, caressed you between your legs, stroking you in motions neither gentle or harsh. The muscles in your thighs flinched, stomach tightening, your throat vibrating to produce a moan smothered by the second hand circling your throat, gripping firmly enough where you could breathe, but just barely.

The thing couldn’t stop your thoughts, as much as it seemed to try, so it took to interrupting them—distracting you but squeezing your neck, yanking your head back into the pillow by your hair, adjusting itself to thrust multiple fingers into your body, burying them to the knuckle.

You tried to win this war of willpower by thinking about Sujay and his mustache and his stupid glasses. They were green, sometimes blue; seldom did he like the tortoiseshell look.

The thing lunged at your neck again, this time taking you underside the jaw and forced your head back into the pillow while it fucked you deeper on three fingers.

You wanted to make a sound; a moan, a scream, a torturous whimper or pleasure for the way your body was rocked on the bed, creaking with the weight of a pair combined and not just how it appeared. Your nostrils flared, heart rate at an uneasy high, breaths stuck in the column of your throat behind the hand holding it.

The pressure continued to stack higher and higher, building to such a point where you knew you were about to lose it, unravel, praying that this thing would grant you the kindness of fucking you out of your orgasm.

Your abdomen was wound tight, your groin ached terribly, and your thighs started to shake. Behind your eyes, the kaleidoscopic wheels of color intermingled with the darkness and it all slowly burned to white.

And then—

“Good morning!” you were being shaken awake by one of the technologists, a middle-aged woman with blue eyeliner. she didn't expect for you to jolt upright, stick straight, and launch the covers off of your body. “Oh—hey, honey, you alright? We’re done until tonight. How do you feel?”

You were slow to respond to her, occupied by the morning light filtering in through the window across the bedroom. She gave you some time to gather your bearings and took her time removing the stickers and wires from your skin, suggesting you spend some time really scrubbing in the shower later to get off all the adhesive.

“How about now, honey?” she pulled the last sticker and wire combination off of your shoulder. “You with us?”

You didn't know how to answer that, especially not with how damp you felt inside your thighs.

a/n; thank you for reading and choosing to help me shape the story further!! this is all inspired by the fact that I have frequent bouts of sleep paralysis myself and on three consecutive occasions, after taking some questionable drops from an ex-friend, I saw something. I want to make this very clear that this story is intended to be pretty extreme psychological horror. anyway, here are the questions

sujay will be a major supporting character in the story, so what would you be interested in seeing more: 1) sujay and mc further blurring that boundary and possibly becoming a pair, but their "relationship" becomes thwarted by SPD 2) sujay, possibly, ends up with more yandere tendencies as the story progresses and with the development of the plot, could result in a terrible ending for him—but interesting 3) sujay and mc are inherently a toxic duo, but he tries his best to support mc (platonically or one-sided romantically) as they spiral out of control?

in terms of SPD's appearance, what idea do you like better: 1) him, eventually, having a definitive, solid form and features across the span of the story 2) he remains like a "black silhouette" with the invisible hands, but he has the sort of voice that's lulls and lures and manipulates 3) he takes on features that mc (you) find attractive, but they're all wrong and progressively becomes more monstrous 4) he has a physical appearance that's "all wrong", but you can never figure why or what he actually looks like despite SEEING him. if you want to choose multiple, you need to get VERY specific.

I intend for this story to be incredibly dark in terms of sexual content bc SPD is a demon/monster. he is not good. he is not loving. when you think of "dark" for smut, what would you want to see??

[cheynovak]

Complicated

Characters: Soldier boy x Y/N Female character     

Summary: Y/N, a young personal assistant to Soldier Boy (Ben) and Crimson Countess, is caught in a whirlwind of events that shatter her sense of stability. After accidentally witnessing an intimate moment between Ben, Crimson, and another woman, she’s left shaken and unsure how to process it. The following day, Crimson casually invites her to join them, which only adds to Y/N's confusion.

Warnings: 18+ Threesome, cheating, smut

English is not my first language 

*This story is my own original story, please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

part 2/?

I drove back to my office, not knowing where else to go. My, our apartment was no longer a refuge—it was tainted, just like everything else. The small couch in my workspace was uncomfortable, but it was better than facing the wreckage of my life back home. I curled up on it, hugging a pillow, tears silently streaming down my face. I had never felt so alone.

Eventually, exhaustion took over, and I drifted in and out of a fitful sleep, crying even in my dreams. Every now and then, I'd wake up to the sound of my own quiet sobs, the weight of everything pressing down on me.

At some point in the night, I felt something, someone, touching my hair. I stirred, disoriented and groggy. For a split second, I thought maybe it was a dream, but then I saw him.

Kevin.

He was standing there, his hand gently stroking my hair as if he had every right to be there, as if nothing had happened. The sight of him sent a surge of anger and panic through me, and I bolted upright, screaming.

"Get out! Leave! Now!"

Kevin looked shocked, he tried to calm me down while I kept yelling, he was telling me all the things he thought I wanted to hear, pretending this was the first time he cheated but that was a lie, I knew it deep down.

Then I heard a deep, calm voice from behind me.

"Is there a problem here?"

I turned, and there he was, Soldier Boy. My screaming must have been so loud he heard it at the top floor where his penthouse was. Or he's just happened to walk by.

His imposing figure stood in the doorway, arms crossed, his expression hard. His eyes shifted between Kevin and me, quickly assessing the situation. He must've noticed my red, tear-streaked face because his gaze darkened, and I could see the tension ripple through him.

Kevin opened his mouth, likely to make some excuse or explanation, but Ben cut him off with a single, cold command.

"Leave."

The word hung in the air like a threat, and Kevin hesitated for only a second before backing down. He gave me one last guilty look before slipping out of the room. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving an eerie silence in its wake.

I was still sitting on the couch, my body tense, my mind reeling from everything that had just happened. Ben stayed standing for a moment, watching me. He wasn’t smiling, his usual cocky, teasing attitude gone. Instead, his expression was unreadable, almost concerned.

After a long pause, he walked over and sat down beside me on the couch. He didn’t say anything right away. The room was so quiet I could hear my own ragged breathing.

For the first time since everything had gone so wrong, I didn’t feel like I was drowning. His presence, solid and calm, was grounding me in a way I didn’t expect.

As I sat there, tears still rolling down my cheeks, Ben shifted slightly beside me. Before I could react, he pulled me into his arms. My body tensed at first, but then I melted into the warmth of his chest, my cheek pressing against the firm muscle beneath his shirt. The quiet hum of his heartbeat was the only thing I could focus on as the sobs came again, uncontrollable and raw.

I didn’t hold back this time. I blurred out everything, the pain, the humiliation, the betrayal. "He cheated on me," I choked out between sobs, "and I was so stupid… I really thought he loved me." My voice cracked on the last word, and fresh tears poured down.

Ben didn’t say a word. He didn’t offer any comforting reassurances or tell me everything would be okay. He just sat there, letting me cry, holding me like he had no idea what to do but felt obligated to be there.

His arms weren’t tight around me, just loosely draped as if he were holding something fragile he didn’t really want to break but didn’t quite know how to handle. It was awkward in a way, like he didn’t want to get too close, but he didn’t want to pull away either.

For some reason, that made it worse. I felt small in his arms, insignificant, like this whole emotional outburst was just another inconvenience for him. I shouldn’t have cared, but it made me feel even more broken. My chest ached, my throat raw from crying, and I didn’t know what to say, so I mumbled the only thing I could think of.

“I’m sorry…”

I pulled back just slightly, enough to look up at him, my face still wet with tears. His expression was unreadable, his eyes dark, intense, watching me with something I couldn’t quite place. Before I could process it, before I could even think, his hand gripped my chin firmly, and suddenly, his lips were on mine.

It wasn’t soft, or tender, it was forceful, rough, a kiss that left no room for doubt or hesitation. My body froze in shock, my mind going blank as I registered what was happening. This wasn’t what I needed. This wasn’t what I had asked for.

I almost leaned into it, almost let myself fall into the moment, but something inside me snapped back to reality. My hands instinctively pressed against his chest, pushing him away, breaking the kiss.

I pulled back, wide-eyed, breathless, and completely overwhelmed. I stared at him, my mind racing, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Ben’s gaze was still locked on me, his breathing steady, but there was a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes something dark and unrepentant.

I didn’t know what to say. My mind screamed at me to leave, to run, but I was frozen in place, caught between fear, confusion, and the weight of everything that had happened.

Without thinking twice, my anger toward Kevin surged like a wave, and before I could stop myself, I crashed my lips back against his. The heat between us ignited quickly, our tongues battling for control, the intensity of it all erasing any hesitation I had just moments ago. It wasn’t about passion, it was about drowning out the hurt, the betrayal.

For a minute or two, we were lost in that raw, reckless kiss.

Then Ben pulled back, a glint in his eyes as he grinned, still holding my hand. “Let’s get you some revenge,” he said, his voice low and filled with something dark.

My breath hitched as he tugged me to my feet, leading me toward the elevator. My mind spun, still trying to catch up with what was happening, but part of me—part of me wanted this, needed this.

The idea of payback, of forgetting Kevin, made me follow without question. A night with Soldier boy was something a lot of women would sell their soul for.

When the elevator doors opened into his penthouse, I was hit with a rush of nerves, a gnawing feeling deep in my gut. The space was grand, just as I’d expect from Soldier Boy, but what made my stomach drop was who was waiting for us.

Crimson Countess.

She stood by the window, dressed in something slinky and red, her lips curling into a wicked smile when she saw us enter. "Well, you brought company." The knowing look in her eyes made it clear she knew exactly what was happening, what Ben had brought me here for.

My heart raced as realization hit me like a brick. This wasn’t just about me and Ben. His intentions became clear.

“Oh no, I… I’ve never done anything like this,” I stammered, feeling completely out of my depth, my skin tingling with a mix of fear and something I didn’t want to admit.

Ben didn’t miss a beat. He sat on the bed, leaning back casually, watching me with that same confident, predatory gleam in his eyes. Crimson stepped up behind me, close enough that I could feel her breath on my neck.

“That’s okay,” Ben murmured, his voice low, coaxing. “She’ll teach you anything you want. We can take it slow.”

I swallowed hard, my mind spinning. Everything about this felt wrong and right all at once, the pull of anger and the need to numb my pain warring inside me.

I had never been in a situation like this, never imagined myself here, but the bitterness I felt toward Kevin and the desire to hurt him the way he’d hurt me clouded my judgment.

Crimson’s soft voice whispered behind me. " This will be fun." Ben added “Don’t you want payback on, what’s-his-name?”

“Kevin,” I muttered, my voice shaky. My breath hitched as she lightly ran her fingers down my arm.

Ben smiled, his eyes gleaming as he leaned forward on the bed. “Right. And what better revenge than spending a night with not just one, but two superior beings?”

My pulse raced, my body caught between fear and something I didn’t want to admit. The temptation to get back at Kevin was so strong, the anger still boiling inside me. The words danced in my mind—payback, revenge, forgetting the pain—and I was so close to giving in.

Ben's eyes were locked on me, challenging me. Crimson’s hands lightly brushed my shoulders, her touch warm, inviting.

But was this really the kind of revenge I wanted?

--

The answer was yes.

I gave in to the pull of revenge, the need to drown out the hurt Kevin had caused me. Ben kept his word, taking it slow, easing me into a world I had never imagined I’d be part of. I had a little to drink first, and another, just enough to blur the sharp edges of my anxiety.

Crimson made the first move, her touch soft but confident. Ben just sat there, relaxed, watching me as I explored the sensation of another woman’s body for the first time.

Crimson was clear about what she liked, guiding me with a kind of experienced patience that made it easier for me to follow. I couldn’t say I truly enjoyed it, it was more surreal than anything. But my body responded, either to her touch or to the way Ben’s gaze burned into me as he watched, his eyes following every movement, every reaction I had, playing with himself while smoking a blunt.

I wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol, or the way he looked at me, but after a while, I found myself giving in. When Crimson brought me to my first orgasm, my mind clouded with the strange mix of guilt and release. She smiled, satisfied with herself, and then leaned back, her voice sultry as she said, “I want to try something else, I'll be right back."

I was still lying on my back, catching my breath, my mind spinning in ways I couldn’t control. I looked up at Ben, feeling more exposed than ever under his intense stare.

Without hesitation, he grabbed me by the arm and pulled me up, straddling him in a swift motion that made my heart race. His hands slid over my naked form, fingers brushing my skin in a way that made me shiver despite myself.

"I thought you were a little nun," he teased, his voice low and teasing, his lips hovering near my ear. "A virgin waiting till her wedding night."

I bit my lip, my mind a mess of thoughts and emotions. The guilt, the anger, the desire to forget—it all mixed together until I couldn’t tell one feeling from another.

Ben's lips brushed my ear again, his voice even lower this time, dripping with confidence. "You need a man to really enjoy it, don’t you?"

I nodded quickly, too overwhelmed to speak. His grip tightened on my hips, and for a second, I felt like I was teetering on the edge of something dangerous, something I couldn’t come back from.

Ben’s hands gripped my hips firmly, guiding me with deliberate slowness until I felt him pressing against me. In his hand he didn't seemed all too big, but brushing against me made me beg to differ.

Just an inch, and I gasped, my head falling back as a rush of sensation overwhelmed me. He was big, too big. My body tensed, trying to adjust to the feeling, but even through the discomfort, there was something undeniably intoxicating about it.

I could feel his eyes on me, the heat of his gaze as he studied my every reaction. His hands never let go of my hips, controlling my movements as he slowly pushed deeper, inch by inch. I tried to stay focused, my breathing ragged as my body started to respond in ways I wasn’t expecting.

My face was close to his now, my hands resting on his broad neck near his hair for balance, finger tugging at his hair. I could hear his breathing, steady but deep, as he helped me move up and down, guiding me to take him deeper, bit by bit.

The sensation was overwhelming, my mind a blur of thoughts and sensations. I couldn’t think about anything else, not Kevin, not the mess my life had become, just the way my body was reacting, the way Ben’s hands felt on me, the way he filled me. It was too much, and not enough all at once.

As I moved on him, Ben’s voice was a low, sultry murmur, sending shivers down my spine. “That’s it, just like that,” he encouraged, his breath warm against my ear. “Feel how good this is? You’re doing amazing.”

He shifted slightly, guiding my hips. “You’re so tight… just let go and let me take you there.”

I could feel his hands tightening on my waist as he thrust deeper. “You like that, don’t you? You were made for me.” His eyes locked onto mine, filled with an intensity that made me blush.

Ben’s voice was low and commanding as he talked, guiding my movements with an intensity that made my heart race. I caught a glimpse of his eyes flicking to something behind me—probably Crimson returning—but his attention remained solely on me. He was in control, and I was swept along for the ride, unable to dictate the speed or the rhythm of his thrusts.

“Just focus on me. Let me show you how good it can feel.”

Each word dripped with a mix of dominance and allure, making it impossible for me to resist. “I want to see you fall apart, to feel every inch of me,” he growled, urging me on as I lost myself in the moment.

As pleasure built, he leaned closer, his lips brushing my ear. “You’re perfect like this. Just let it take over.” And when I finally reached that edge, he whispered, “That’s it… let go for me.”

With each deep thrust, I felt myself teetering on the edge, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through me. I lost track of time as pleasure built, wave after wave crashing over me until I finally tipped over the edge, spiraling into a blissful release. It hit me again and again, each pulse sending me higher, until finally, I felt him reach his own climax, his breath ragged against my skin.

As the aftershocks settled, I glanced at Crimson. She wore a look that suggested she wasn’t entirely pleased, but in that moment, I didn’t care. I was too worn out, my body buzzing with the remnants of ecstasy.

Eventually, I found a comfortable position on Ben's left side, feeling the warmth of his body next to me. Crimson settled on his right, and the exhaustion washed over me, pulling me into a deep sleep. In that moment, I let go of everything—the hurt, the betrayal—and surrendered to the darkness.

--

Please like, share or comment when you liked the story. If you liked this, please check out my masterlist for other stories.

Tag list:-> If you want to be added let me know what you like to read! If anyone feels like you're tagged too much, also let me know please. :)

@kr804573 @nancymcl@suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @globetrotter28 @jackles010378

@hobby27 @winchesterwild78 @deans-baby-momma @soab1967

@livingdeadblondequeen @ladysparkles78 @yvonneeeee @whimsyfinny @deangirl96 @spxideyver @lmg14

[porcelainseashore]

Coffee & Secrets (6)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Rookie Cop! Leon x Barista! Fem! Reader

Summary: As a cozy coffee shop owner in Raccoon City, you’re no stranger to visitors seeking comfort, quiet, and warmth. When a rookie officer named Leon finds a kindred spirit in you, it sets in motion a chain of events that forever changes the course of your lives. An alternate universe set in Resident Evil 2 Remake and inspired by the game Coffee Talk.

Content & Warnings: Canon divergence, coffee shops, romance, slow burn, strangers to lovers, idiots in love, fluff, slice of life, swearing

Author's Note: We’re nearing the end of this series! Thank you to everyone on here for your support, especially in the comments and reblogs. This will probably be my last Leon fic for a while. Sometimes it felt like I was writing into the void and it was a little disheartening, but I started to realise that I need a change of scenery and explore writing through other fandoms.

AO3 Link

Chapter 6: Full Circle

“Am I looking at the new Chief of Police?” 

You cracked a grin as Marvin graced your shop clad in his shiny new outfit and badge that made him look almost regal. Gold stripes and stars lined the cuffs and epaulets of his navy blue jacket. He removed his elegantly embroidered peaked cap, tucking it under his arm as he rubbed his buzz cut. And there he was again, the same old Marvin that you knew.

“You sure are.” He winked, reflecting your grin before a minor shadow loomed over his face. “Can’t say the circumstances I got promoted in were the most pleasant though.”

Laying your hand on his shoulder, you gave it a firm, supportive squeeze. “Everyone knows you deserve this, Marv. You’ll do great.”

“Aww, look what you’ve done! Making me cry all over my nice suit like that,” he emitted a low chuckle, his voice cracking up as he patted your hand. Wiping away a stray tear from his waterline, he cleared his throat and pulled up a chair at the counter.

“So, what can I get for the man of the hour?”

“You know me, I’m a creature of habit,” he affirmed.

You caught the drift, your hands already busying themselves as if they had a mind of their own. “Something gingery.”

The kettle whistled as steam rushed through its spout. Taking it off the stove, you poured it over a mixture of the fresh ginger and turmeric root you had diced up. You allowed it to steep for a while before adding in the jasmine tea leaves. Finally, you strained it into a tea cup garnished with the flower petals.

“Your celebratory drink—Golden Dawn.”

“I can already tell I’m gonna love it.” Marvin lifted the cup to his lips, blowing on it lightly before drinking it sip by sip. 

“Nice music too,” he added, bobbing his head along to one of the tunes on the stereo. “This what you kids listen to these days?”

Over the next hour, you engaged in lighthearted chatter until it came to the never ending squabble of who would pay—or not. As always, you won, telling the older man to accept the gift and enjoy some quality time with his wife and daughters.

As Marvin prepared to leave, Ben and Claire coincidentally came through the door. All three of them stopped dead in their tracks, tensing up as they eyed each other awkwardly. 

It was Ben who broke the silence, extending his hand as he said, “Congratulations, Branagh. I mean it.” 

And he truly did. There was not a note of insincerity in the man’s tone.

At this, Marvin smiled, giving Ben a cordial handshake. “Thanks, Bertolucci. Guess I’ll be seeing you around, though hopefully not on my case,” he joked. 

That elicited a roar of laughter from Ben. “I go where the story leads me, Chief.”

“You really are the devil in disguise,” Marvin noted wryly. “Well, I’mma head off, so have a good evening.”

“Bertolucci. Redfield,” he acknowledged, tipping his cap to the two before giving you a final wave as he exited the shop.

“Drinks on me,” Ben declared, smacking the counter table with his palm.

You raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t a bar have been a better choice?”

“Yeah, we’re headed there after,” he confirmed. “Just had to patronize the place that fueled all my sleepless nights first.”

“I read the article by the way,” you mentioned in passing as you got to work. “It was very well-written and fair.”

“Facts, you can’t go wrong with facts,” he clarified. “I don’t sensationalize.”

“You could’ve been scathing, but you didn’t. That’s an active choice,” you pointed out.

The article had identified several instances of corruption and gross misconduct that the previous chief had been involved in, but in a relatively neutral tone. It also ended on a more positive and optimistic note, creating hope for the future of the RPD.

“Heh, well,” he shrugged, pressing against the bridge of his spectacles as he gave you a coy smile. “Maybe I am getting soft.”

Turning to Claire, he noted, “You’re quiet today, Red. You should be celebrating, kid.”

“Mmm,” she responded with mild disinterest, though you could see her glancing at the shop’s entrance every now and then.

“I didn’t have shot glasses, so I used your favorite—espresso cups,” you teased, placing the two orders on the table. “These should make good pre-drinks.”

“What’s in it?” Ben asked skeptically, unused to anything other than his trusty coffee.

“Let’s just say a combination of lemon, olive oil and cinnamon. I added some other flavorings to make it more palatable,” you explained. “Prevents hangovers.”

Swirling the liquid, he pinched his lips together and remarked, “Guess it wouldn’t hurt. Bet it’s got one of those hippy names too?”

“Grandma’s Cure.”

“Hah! That’s a good one!” he exclaimed, taking a swig from his demitasse.

There was a short pause before he gave his verdict, “Hmm! Not bad… not bad at all.”

However, Claire still left hers untouched and her mind appeared to be elsewhere.

“Hey, you okay?” you asked out of concern.

Claire shook herself out of her thoughts, stumbling over her words, “Y-yeah, shit, I’m sorry.”

Consuming the drink as quickly as possible, she thumped the cup back onto the counter, cleaning her mouth with the back of her hand. Fortuitously, your next customer who came through the door appeared to be the one she was looking for.

“Leon?”

The young officer froze, swallowing nervously as he stared at her. “Claire.”

You and Ben exchanged looks as you tilted your head in the direction of the exit, indicating to him to give them some space. He nodded discreetly in response, understanding what you were getting at.

Immediately, he stood up with a grunt and clapped Claire on the back. “Alright, Red, I’ll make a headstart first and you can join me at Jack’s Bar when you’re ready.”

With that, he placed some cash on the table, casually saluting you before making his way out.

Claire wasted no time getting to the crux of the matter. “That anonymous tip—it was you, wasn’t it?”

Slumping down on the seat beside her, Leon conceded, “Yeah, you got me.”

“I shouldn’t have pressured you into it, I’m sorry,” she blurted out.

“No, you wanted to do the right thing,” he sympathized. “I was so caught up in an ideal that never existed, I forgot about that.”

“It was decent of you to get Bertolucci to hold off on publishing the article until Irons stepped down,” he continued. “At least it was less of a blow to the department as a whole.”

“Still, the way I treated you was uncalled for,” she argued. “You’re a good friend, Leon, I…” her voice cracked.

“Sometimes, people say things because they’re hurt,” he mentioned, giving you a knowing look. 

You smiled back, acknowledging the very same advice you had given him when you first met.

“Pals?” He stuck out his palm.

“What are you, twelve?” she scoffed. Breaking into a dazzling grin, she grasped his hand as though they were sealing a pact. “Pals.”

“Care for another?” you offered, presenting the drinks you had crafted up on the side.

Claire’s eyes twinkled. “Don’t mind if we do.”

Sherry arrived soon after, instantly taking to the redhead like an older sister. Eventually, Claire went off to join Ben, promising to return for a proper goodbye before leaving to finish her semester.

“How was school?” you asked, scooping yet another dollop of whipped cream into Sherry’s drink upon her instructions. She could be quite assertive when she wanted to be.

“Good…” she hummed. “Made a friend.”

“That’s awesome!” Leon commended.

“Oh, and no one dares to touch me, ’cause I told them you’ll kick their ass,” she added.

“Wait, what?” he guffawed, but she suddenly had the urge to use the bathroom and scurried off.

“Impossible,” he huffed as you snickered.

Leaning on your elbows over the counter, you addressed him, “Not that I don’t ask you this every day, but anything new with you?”

“Well, apart from the stuff with Claire and the RPD, it turned out that the background checks on the suspicious lady in red came up clean,” he reported.

“Wow, Kevin must be pissed.”

“You don’t say. Wesker kinda just lets her through too. The whole thing just screams trouble to me,” he admitted. “Guess you win some, you lose some.”

“Anyway, speaking of Kevin, he told me to pass you this.” Chucking a folded letter on the table, his icy blue eyes watched you like a hawk as an unreadable expression formed on his face.

“Huh, looks like everyone’s doing the rounds today,” you muttered, opening the paper to read its contents.

A telephone number was written down in bold black marker, followed by a “CALL ME ;)”

Your shoulders trembled as you burst out laughing, shaking your head in disbelief. That guy had some nerve for pulling off such a stunt, unless…

“You gonna?” Leon quizzed, and you swore you could sense a hint of jealousy in his voice.

“Whaddya think?” you smirked, closing the gap as your nose nudged against his.

His eyes fluttered, and he sucked in a sharp breath. You felt his lips barely graze yours until—

“So… are you, like, boyfriend and girlfriend?”

All at once, you were back at square one, Leon having hastily distanced himself away from you as Sherry stared at the two of you inquisitively.

“Yes—no. I mean, no?” Leon stuttered, his cheeks burning crimson as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

You let out a frustrated sigh, deciding to leave them to their devices for the moment while you counted stock in the cabinets. At some point, Sherry wanted to go home and Leon took it upon himself to drive her back.

As you said your good nights, to your surprise, Leon wrapped his arms around your waist, dragging you in for a spontaneous embrace. “We’ll talk about this soon—about us,” he whispered into your hair.

Soon could not come soon enough.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[lxdymoon0357]

Idk if your requests are open it not but if it is can you give me some pinjng for Roxanna x fem reader / gen reader? I need more of her 😭

(Honestly, understandable. She is a bit of a goddess...a demonic one, but a goddess nonetheless. Homophobia LGBT ally)

© Writing belongs to me, Lxdymoon0357. Do not plagiarize, but reblogging, liking and commenting is deeply appreciated.

Roxanna Agriche X Fem! Reader Headcanons.

⊈ Rozanna either met you as you were her maid or you were a pet from another noble house. Either way, she had you under her control, doing her dangerous betting every single day. She had you easily wrapped around her perfectly, bloody manicured finger.

⊈ Your life was daily in her hands and she was always careless with it, but you know what you did when you came here; either by force or own desperate situation, but of-course it never scared less not knowig which is your last day.

⊈ Eventually you and her did fall in love and she had you close...Though Lante was horrified at his daughter being in love with a girl, but afterwards he calmed down and let her date you, as long as she'd somehow get a child for him to his lineage continues and Roxanna nonchalantly agrees.

⊈ Level passed!! New Level: You're an Agriche now!

⊈ Of-course you're now also a victim to many of the Agriches, including Dion, Charlotte, Fondaine and possibly others. But it's okay, Sierra adores you, Maria...she is weirdly infatuated, Jeremy is slightly jealous you're taking his sister's attention, but eventually you also become his friend.

⊈ She often feeds your blood to the butterflies as well, so they can recognize you too. Also adding tiny doses of poison into your tea, food, drinks. Has the most expensive furs decorating you with the heaviest security around your room.

⊈ Freedom is basically non-existent with the way she moved you into her room and you didn't go outside for like...three months! (I know it's normal for you nerds, probs. But please be normal right now.) ut yeah, almost zero freedom of going out, your'e free to do yada yada in your room though.

⊈ I know for SURE! Roxanne doesn't allow Dion anywhere near you, you'll easily be his next victim so Dion can see Roxanne's emotions more rawful, Charlotte is just annoyed with you being here, because you're simply BELOW her and you're also one of the favourites of THIS HOUSE?! FUCK YOU!

⊈ Speaking of favourites, you'll be joining them in Lant's "special-favourite children dinner" whenever it happens, maids and butlers and cooks are asked to taste everything in advance so you don't get poisoned by ANYONE. It will rain hell by Roxanna if anything happened.

⊈ Has you in makeout sessions right before bed, her fingers gently groping your tits and tweaking your nips, very gently though...depends if it leads to more or simply just a makeout sessions where you both sleep snuggled against each other, where she wakes up every few hours to make sure you're alive.

⊈ Has made sure you're always as safe as her mum, speaking of her mum. You spend a majority of your free time with Sierra, she likes you though a bit nervous around you two. You have to be super nice and get her to warm up to you and she'll adore you as much as she adores her daughter, likes that someone in this house brings her daughter happiness even if she herself couldn't.

⊈ Lanta, Charlotte, Dion, Maria, Grizelda are weirdly homophobic..yet allies? I don't get it, but imagine them just mocking Roxanne for liking a girl despite being beautiful, but the moment a guy or anyone would try to get near you and the person is dead because they're like "Not Roxanne's little shit, you fucker. I'll fuck you up if you hurt her, she's only ours to hurt" like a messed up family dynamic which is hysterically insane.

[thecoffeelorian]

Fandom Friday, 09/27: Fanfiction

Hello again, everyone…and welcome to another installment of Fandom Friday, the two-post series where I go off to find new and interesting fanworks that might need a bit more visibility.

Before we get started, I would first like to repeat the fact that my mother will be coming home from the hospital soon, so if I don't make any more updates like this one for a while...well, you'll have a better idea of why ahead of time.

And second, this isn't the usual collection of comforting stories I usually boost...but this time around, I started noticing the 'what-if' scenario pattern that some of them have in common, so maybe this can be the theme of the week if anyone's willing. Specifically, what if Padme Amidala didn't die after childbirth; what if Grogu had an older adopted sister; what if there was some honor amongst Stormtroopers; and so on.

Therefore, with these ideas in mind...here are my picks of the week.

THE PREQUELS

The Prequels Fanfiction--By @darth-jess-my-writing:

THE CLONE WARS

The Clone Wars Fanfiction--By @wanderinginksplot:

The Clone Wars Fanfiction--By @wistfulforstars:

THE BAD BATCH

The Bad Batch Fanfiction--By @legacygirlingreen:

The Bad Batch Fanfiction--By @mae-lou-ron:

THE MANDALORIAN

The Mandalorian Fanfiction--By @orcasoul:

The Mandalorian Fanfiction--By @notgonnaedit:

GENERAL STAR WARS

General Star Wars Fanfiction--By @unafearless:

In conclusion, as part of my mission to poke around the Star Wars fandom and, on Friday every two weeks, highlight those writers who might otherwise go unnoticed…I hope you will check out the links I have included for yourselves and like, comment on, and reblog them, as well as also giving the writers a few more followers to their Tumblr pages.

Please also like and reblog this latest installment so that these links can be spread around to as many other fans as possible, just in case not all of them can tune in at the same time.

An additional thank you goes to @djarrex for making the divider I used earlier in this post, but still want to give credit for.

And finally, so that I do not forget…thank you to my friends, thank you to this fandom, good afternoon, and good luck.

No Pressure Tags: @melymigo @algo-o-nada @theosb0rnway @everybirdfellsilent @skellymom

@leos-multifandom-corner @maggie-dylan @leenabb104104 @gun-roswell @tazmbc1

@bluedeedeedoop @its-time-to-rise-above @tlmtwelve @snoowply and anybody else who might be on the lookout for new SW fanfiction.

[10piecechickenmcnugget]

i changed my mind about this actually. if you reblog my art with a comment like “the fire said so” “i can’t say no to flaming text” “well since op said pretty please” you’re not funny and actually incredibly annoying and an asshole and all you’re telling me is the only reason you’re reblogging my art that i put genuine effort and time (sometimes HOURS) into is because of a random gif i made in five seconds. which is actually really demotivating. i only put that gif on my posts cause 90% of the time it’s the only reason people actually reblog my art and even then people still won’t reblog it, and if you’re going to go into my notes and tell me you only think my creations are worthy of being shared is a random gif i added then please consider. not doing that or at the very least keep it to yourself and not in the tags of my post. which i can see btw.

[coldgoldlazarus]

It's kinda funny how scattershot my approach to the 2D games has been lol.

AM2R: Beat, 100%

Zero Mission: Beat but haven't/won't complete percentage

Metroid: Completed percentage but haven't beat

Dread: Working on it

What a skip lol

I want to play Super and Fusion and the other two versions of Metroid II properly, I've watched enough playthroughs to have a good feel for them but it's no replacement for actually experiencing them myself. But I do think I want Return Of Samus to be the last one, (until future releases anyway) but not in a "putting off the worst until all other options are exhausted" way, more a "saving the best for last" way. I already know I'll love it for the story and how that's conveyed, but I want it to be special.

[jutsuuu]

girl help I’m experiencing

[dallonwrites]

[Beau looks up and Felix is there in the hallway, leaning over the banister. Daisies dangled around his wrist and all Beau can think about is if the bracelet slipped off and fell in front of him and would he reflexively reach to hand it back, would he even try to catch it first? They used to kiss on this stairwell. Felix always liked to get him under the moonlit window and then whine into his neck about how they couldn’t do anything more here, the door a few steps away.]

this is a love story in 91 words to me

[sleepdepravity]

The downside of getting more attention is that now bots can find me easier. I had been able to thin the herd a while back by blocking egregiously, to the point where I was maybe getting a bot follow about once per week at most, but now it’s ramping up again. Though it’s gonna be hard to be merciless this time…now that I have actual #content that I know people actually want to see…the only reason I was able to block egregiously before was because I could easily be like, “ha whatever these people wouldn’t even miss much.” But now…

[dadbots]

August… time to get spooky.

[kindnessoverperfection]

Some recent wins:

-Sang loudly and off-key with my partner. We were both laughing to tears. I was sober.

-Found myself actually thinking about musical theatre today. For myself, for my own interest in it. I wasn't chasing it for a narc high, nor avoiding it due to a crash. It's been a long time since I've thought about my interests for my own sake.

-Invited my friends to hang out