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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 years ago

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Don’t Speak 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, and other possible triggers. 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: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: I hope you don’t mind another venture into self-indulgence.

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. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You stand at the stop and flip back the cover of your notebook. The worn cover inlaid with the images of petals grazes your fingertips as you reread the route number and compare it to the sign. The bus should be here soon. At least, that's what the website said.

You close the book and tuck it back under your arm, careful not to spill the documents nestled between the pages. You bounce on your sole and chew your lip, looking back down the grey street, the leftover dampness of the rain darkening the pavement. Your heart flutters and you shift to stand closer to the pole.

You've never taken the bus before. Just the idea scares you. Sat in a compartment amongst a horde of strangers. Even more, you're nervous you'll miss your stop. You'll just have to be diligent and keep count. There's only twelve between you and the library.

You reach in your pocket and scoop out the change. Three dollars from the old tin with the slot cut into the lid. Enough for the trip and more in your bag for the way back.

The rumble of the engine steals your attention and you look over as the gargantuan bus turns the corner. You try not to get too close to the curb but near enough that it stops.

The doors fold open, and your eyes round. Oh gosh. You make yourself get on and read the sign that directs you to drop the change in the machine. You do and the bus driver nods, rolling forward as you nearly fall off your feet.

You turn and grab onto a pole as you make your way toward the seats. Unsteadily, you find one, sitting on the edge as you bring your knapsack into your lap. You lean your notebook against it and open it up. Once more, you double-check the destination.

You keep from rocking anxiously as the bus halts again and more people get on. It starts to get crowded and you make yourself as small as you can as passengers sit on either side of you. You hug your bag and notebook against you tightly.

You keep your eyes on the floor, unsure of where else to look. Amber will be proud at least. You can't wait to tell her you took the bus all by yourself! She probably won't believe you.

The automated voice calls out your stop and you stand. You’re not used to the motion of the bus as you do and waver as you make your way to the doors, mimicking those before you. You wait until the wheels come to a stop and the doors flap open before you. You hop off onto the curb and catch your balance.

You look in your notebook, following the directions scribbled in your loopy cursive to the redbrick building. The large letters arched over the doors assures you of your arrival. Central Library.

You follow the mosaic walk to the steps and one of several doors. You enter meekly and pass through the next set of doors. You come into the grand lobby of the library, the scent of books overwhelming but comforting. It’s paradise, even if there are people all around.

You examine the floor first. Your habit of avoiding eye contact makes your navigation difficult. You read the signs that lead to the large desk and you follow the arrows, pausing to check which way to go. Registration or checkout.

You go to the left and wait behind the woman with her stroller and young child clinging to her hand. She hushes the toddler several times before she steps up and you pick at the corner of your notebook. You peer around briefly and take in the shelves, the cushioned benches, and computer stations. What you have a hard time focusing on are all the strange faces, some alone, others clustered together.

The woman ahead of you drags away her toddler as she pushes the carriage with one hand. She seems frustrated as she hisses at the child to stay close to her. You sway and tap your fingers against the back cover of your notebook.

“Next,” a deep voice calls gently. You don’t move, forgetting your mission for a moment before the subsequent word awakens you, “miss?”

Of course, it’s a man. It shouldn’t matter, you know, but you always feel a bit better with women. It’s very silly to think about it but you feel as if men are a mystery you can’t solve. That’s only because you’ve never spent very much time with them.

You look up and hurry forward with a muttered apology. A squeak so mousy that even in the low din of the library, it’s barely heard. You place your notebook on the counter and stare at the laminated sign across the wood. A rundown of what you need to get a card.

You open the cover and carefully take out the contents hidden in the small pocket; your ID card and a piece of mail. You lay them out, sliding them across.

“I’d like to register for a library card,” you eke out as you drag your fingers back along the page, across the hasty sketch of a moth in inky blue.

“Sorry?” A pair of large hands spread across the counter as the shadow looms at the top of your vision, “I can’t hear you, miss. Were you looking to get a card?”

You nod and force out a vocal confirmation, “yes.”

“Yes?” He sounds perplexed.

You clear your throat and raise your eyes, just a little. Not to his face, you’re not ready for that. You look at his shirt, a crisp collar peek out from a dark blue vest. You pull your hands back to smooth your mauve sweatshirt, feeling underdressed.

“Okay, just a moment,” he says as he pushes away from the desk.

Your cheek twitches and you turn your head away, focusing on the bookmarks in the plastic holder just to the right. They are marked as a dollar each with proceeds going to the library. If you come back, you’ll have to bring some extra change. If it’s okay with Amber.

He comes back and places down a white card with a blue border. He types in the computer behind the rack of bookmarks and takes your ID. He sets it back down and grabs the mail, his fingers continue swiftly over the keys. He puts the ID atop the paper and slides it back across. He picks up the card and swipes it along a small black scanner.

“Alright, so, you’ll want to key in a pin,” he holds out a keypad to you, “this will be your password for your online account and the WiFi.”

You reach for the keypad and take it gently. You stare at it unsure. You sense the man watching you. Gosh, you hate to be such a bother.

“Just four digits,” he instructs.

You nod and put in Amber’s birthday before handing it back. He sets it down and hits a few more keys. He swipes the card a second time and offers it to you. You gather up the paper and your ID before accepting the card.

“Thank you,” you murmur.

“No problem,” he says. His tone is smooth and calm. It’s not as scary as you expected. “If you need anything else, you can just ask.”

You close the notebook and slip the library card into your jeans pocket. You keep your chin down as you turn and wander off towards the shelves. Finally, you lift your head and look around, taking in the vast array of books.

As much as you want to hide at home, you don’t know that you ever want to leave this place.

🎨

You find a table in the basement. It’s quiet there, mostly empty. The reference section doesn’t seem to be the most popular.

You have your stack of books, each call number matched perfectly to those listed in your notebook. You open the first, admiring each colourful image. You take your time as you read the species name and genus of one bird after the other.

You got the idea from the cardinal in your window the other morning. The vibrant red stuck in your mind even after the shy bird winged away at the slightest movement. You’d been looking for a new subject. Your usual work centered on soft petals and sharp thorns, but the feathers filled your head with fantastical images.

The money you bring in with your artwork isn’t enough to offer much help to Amber. She works forty hours in an office and never complains. Yet you can’t help but feel like a slug, like a leech. She’s your sister, she loves you, she assures you, but you love her too. You want to give more so it would do well to sell more.

Variety. That’s what the articles say. You should offer more variety to increase your sales. More than roses and lilies.

You stop at the cardinal, a burning red male and a dainty grey female. You almost think the latter is prettier. Muted but beautiful. You smile and smooth your hand over the page.

You unzip your knapsack and pull out your tablet. You fold the case to prop it up at an angle and free the pen from the loop. You unlock the screen but hesitate as you hear… something.

You look around but don't see anyone or anything. You're too afraid to get up and check in case you do run into someone. What does it matter if someone's looking at books? It's a public library.

You hunch down and begin the linework, losing yourself in your art as you so often do. How many hours have drifted by as you pour yourself into a simple drawing. You almost forget where you are as you search for the right shade of red on the color wheel.

A noise brings your head up and you glance up at the figure between the rows only feet away from you. He pulls the cart back from the shelf where it collided and sets it straight. You watch his arms, too afraid to follow them up to his face. His hands are large as they take out three books between them, his forearms bulging beneath the sleeves rolled to his elbows.

You quickly tuck your chin down again as you sense him looking back at you. You know by the dark brown plaid of his shirt that it’s the same librarian who issued your card. You roll the end of the pen against your lip as you struggle to refocus on your tablet.

You work at the soft feathers of the wings, laying a base layer for the finer details. You pull the book closer to compare and poke your tongue out as you squint. Books shift and slide on the shelf as the man continues to work. You’re overly aware of his presence as he bears down on you, the cart wheeling closer to your table.

You ignore him as best you can, your head racing with regret and doubt. You should’ve stayed home. You could’ve Googled all this. You could’ve gone to the park and found a real cardinal. You could’ve done anything but this. You don’t like people around you when you’re drawing.

He rolls by to the shelfs perpendicular to your table, now at your back as you aimlessly hover over the spectrum of RGB. You close it out and set back to your deliberate layers. A wheel squeaks and the man clears his throat.

“You like birds?” He keeps his voice low.

You flinch and grasp the tablet, unfolding the cover to conceal your work. You lay it flat and shrug. You don’t want anyone to see your unfinished work, no one.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to intrude. I just… you’re very talented. And uh,” he comes closer and waves a finger towards the open book, “I love cardinals. There’s some out in the courtyard here. We have a birdhouse. Pretty lively when it’s not grey as bones out.”

You blink and stare at the lilac cover of your tablet. You wiggle the pen and nod. You don’t know what to say. You can’t find your voice, croaking out a fizzly ‘thank you’.

“I’m sorry I disturbed you,” he backs off and returns to his cart, “I’ll leave you be.”

You keep your face angled away from him and pull the book closer. You admire the different angles of the majestic red bird. The way the feather’s form a sharp point behind its head and the cut of its short beak. You might put yours in a wreath of ivy, that would be pretty.

You hear the cart groan as the librarian drags it away. You blow out between tight lips as you dare to peek over, making sure of his departure. Alone again, you open the cover of your tablet and tap it to life. You’ll get a bit more done and take a few books with you. You could come back again… or have your sister drop off the returns.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #don't speak #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #defending jacob #library au #au

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 2 years ago

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The Final Draft - Spencer Reid +18

Summary: Spencer and Reader have a perfect day together and cling to each other under their sweet nothings

Word Count: 4K

Content Warnings: incredibly cheesy and borderline saccharine, smut (oral sex- female receiving, sexual intercourse, dirty talk but very sweet and romantic, breeding kink but it’s like sweet and cute) basically this is entirely self fulfilling and indulgent

The Final Draft

My hair stuck to the soft cotton pillow case as I rolled over to my side. I landed into Spencer’s warm, welcoming yet sleeping figure. He hummed in his sleep, unconsciously enveloping me into his strong frame. With my chest flush to his, I gently wrapped your arm around his upper torso and casually draped my leg over his much longer ones.

He was always warm, nearly burning, when he slept. Long ago Spencer hand abandoned sleeping in a shirt, opting for either simply boxers or old, worn plaid pajama pants. His chest was smooth and strong, and each wrinkle, scar, stretch mark reminded me of all my years spent loving him. Sometimes, when I looked at him, it just reminded me that I was simply too soft for all of it. And Spencer Reid, just might be the softest and most gentle of them all.

“G’ morning,” Spencer mumbled, sleep was still evident in his voice, “how long did you stare at me for?” He asked.

“Not long enough to admire how pretty you are, fiancé” I quipped, reaching over to the night stand to put the shimmering ring on my finger.

“Let me,” Spencer interrupted, grabbing the ring and placing it on my ring finger himself. He smiled to himself and it seemed like it was one of those smiles that was intended to be private. I watched the way his lipped curved upward as he held my hand in his palm. He has always touched me with the most love and adoration, but there was something different about the way he touched my hand when he slipped my engagement ring onto my finger.

“There,” Spencer said, “It’s back where it’s supposed to be.” He kissed my hand, the sweetness of the gesture making an embarrassed heat crawl up my face and into my ears.

“You know you don’t have to do that every time,” you muttered, covering my face as if it could possibly shield me from Spencer’s unabashed affections.

Spencer swung his legs over my frame so his body caged mine. He kissed my hairline and then down to the bridge of my nose. I brought my hand to his cheek, brushing my thumb against his cheekbone. He closed his eyes at the gesture, basking in my gentle touch as if he could commit it to memory. And if there was a person who could, it would most certainly be Spencer.

“I do.” Spencer said, the irony of his words not lost on either of me. He smirked, peppering kisses down my throat. “You’re going to be my wife. And I want to spoil you completely rotten with fancy jewelry and all the iced lattes and books you could ever want.”

“Hmm,” I said, brushing my hands through the mess of brown curls on Spencer’s head, “you sound like a man you want a handjob with the hand with the huge rock you bought me.”

“As tempting as that sounds,” Spencer started, he lifted up my sleep shirt to stick his head underneath the soft, cotton fabric and place wet kisses against my belly, “all I can think about would be the staggering amount of germs collecting on your ring. And I don’t think either of us want me focusing on the amount of bacteria per square nanometer on your ring while you're stroking my dick.”

“God, I love you and your weird, wonderful mind,” I laughed, hauling Spencer up by his face to finally kiss him. I felt teeth and his soft lips in the kiss. It was a mix of sweet and something less sweet, as it usually was when I kissed Spencer.

“Ha, thank you very much,” Spencer quipped back, quickly kissing your cheek as a chaste thank you, “but I’d much rather go down on you anyway.” He grinned in a smile that spread throughout his entire face and, of course, leaked to mine.

“And what about the germs from that, Spence,” you teased, knowing that even Spencer Reid could make a couple excuses for germs when it came to me.

“That’s neither here nor there.” Spencer said, brushing you off as his hands traveled down to my pajama pants, “How fond are you of these pajamas. Because I want you so bad, I’m ready to rip them to shreds to get your pussy.” He lamented.

His eyes bore fire into my belly as he stared at me down, clearly waiting for an answer.

“Quite fond, honey. But there’s other things I’m more fond of, if we’re being honest here.” I confessed, dragging my fingertips up and down Spencer’s smooth chest. He had a dusting of hair that led down to where his pants hung dangerously low on his hips.

“Hmm, well you’re lucky because you're too cute for your own good in those little shorts, I’ll make sure to not rip them. This time that is,” Spencer promised with a dark tone clouding his voice.

He shed me of my shorts, lightly tapping my thigh to lift my hips to help him. Spencer sighed contently as he got himself eye level with my legs. He peppered kisses against my inner thighs, nipping and sucking in perfect tempo with my whimpers of pleasure.

“Spence, please you’re killing me.” I groaned, gripping his hair with my hands.

“Already?” Spencer tsked, his condescending tone sent waves of pleasurable humiliation up my spine. “I hardly even touched you yet. My girl is getting so spoiled. It’s a good thing I’m making you my wife. You’ll never have to worry about not getting your way, honey. I’ll always give it to you, you know that, right?”

I attempted to catch my breath as I scratched Spencer’s scalp. He groaned, the anticipation of what was to come, clearly got to him as well. You could feel his erection pressed up against your leg. And the thought of still having that kind of effect on him made me smile with pride.

“I need it, Spence.” I chanted his name, desperation clouded my mind. “I need your mouth on me, please.”

“Just because I love you so much I’ll give it to you, darling.” Spencer cooed, his voice vibrating against your sensitive skin as he spoke.

Spencer, with relative ease and muscle memory, lapped at my center with his tongue. He groaned as he tasted me, the sound simultaneously passionate and romantic. All I could do, as his mouth attached to my clit, was sit and let him have his way with me, not like there was anything either of us would have rather been doing.

His fingers dug into my fleshy hips so deep that they left colorful bruises in the shape of his hands. Spencer kissed my thighs, moaning as my pleasure-filled mewls filled our shared bedroom. He rocked his hips against the mattress, his erection hitting against my leg as he writhed in between my legs.

“Fuck,” Spencer cursed, his mouth massaging my clit as his right hand snuck closer and closer towards my soaked center, “I’ll never get tired of this.”

As much as I craved the familiar fire that Spencer set to my entire being, I found myself needing the quiet peace he provided as well. Even as his tongue danced against my sensitive folds, I still found myself noticing the faint wrinkles in Spencer’s forehead and the slightest sliver of silver in his scalp. And it wasn’t sexual desire that fueled the fire in my veins, it was yearning for the life we've yet to create.

With every kiss, every nip and bite of my skin, every rut of his hips against our perpetually squeaky mattress, I found myself closer and closer to the edge of climax.

Spencer’s finger breached me as his tongue continued to pry against my throbbing pussy. I knotted my hands into his hair, tugging with force just as I knew he loved. He groaned in response and it was frankly scientific. When I tugged his hair, it earned me a wanton moan from the man that found himself in between my legs wreaking havoc against my heart and nervous system.

“Spence…it’s…it’s too much for me,” I whined, yet I wrapped my legs around his torso, forcing his entire face flush against my skin, “Oh fuck, I love you.” I whispered, as I saw my glittering ring shimmer against Spencer’s mousy brown curls.

“I’m going to bury my face into your pussy until you’re begging to come against my face.” Spencer heeded, his patronizing tone casting a different light on the man I loved. Despite my distraction, I made a mental note to have Spencer explore that commanding side of him another day.

Because we had just that. The thought made me smile.

And then, along with Spencer’s eager tongue and continued moans of pleasure, I came undone.

Ever eager to please and see things through, Spencer kissed my inner thighs with persistence. A stray finger pumped in and out at a fervent pace as he milked the reminder of my climax.

“Just like that, sweetheart.” Spencer murmured, the vibrations from his throat tickled my skin. A sappy smile slipped onto my face as Spencer’s eyes finally landed on mine. “You coming on my face is something that I’ll never get tired of.”

“You certainly know the exact way to charm a girl, Spence.” I teased, stroking back strands of hair that fell against his forehead. His brown hair, dusted with golden, copper highlights complimented his eyes so perfectly that my heart twinged when I looked at him. “Besides being perfect in like every way possible.”

Spencer blushed and buried his face against my leg. He dragged his fingertips along my calf and up to my knee. “You’re the perfect one,” Spencer said, kissing my knee. The sweet gesture signaled that it was my turn to flush.

“That’s debatable,” I countered, locking my fingers into Spencer’s long, yet slender hands, “So you’re up at bat, buddy.” I teased, leaning over to playfully slap Spencer’s butt.

He smirked, his eyes ranking over my sleep shirt that was hastily unbuttoned in Spencer’s earnest frenzy to undress me. Though my eyes were caked with sleep and my hair had seen much better days, I had never felt more beautiful than I did under Spencer’s fiery, yet loving gaze.

“You know that doing that is more enjoyable for me than it is for you. And that’s saying something by the look on your face.” Spencer asserted, earning a playful eye roll. “And, don’t get me wrong, I love you more than life itself, but I really need to shower this off.”

“Such a dork.” I tsked, threading my fingers through Spencer’s hair. He leaned in at the touch. “How ‘bout I wash your hair as a thank you, baby.” I offered, sliding up to get off the bed.

“Hmm,” Spencer hummed, closing his eyes, “That sounds excellent.”

After a nearly 45-minute shower intermission, Spencer and I found ourselves standing at the kitchen counter debating over breakfast. Spencer, like usual, insisted on something sweet, covered in syrup and butter, with an unhealthy amount of coffee on the side.

“I vote for bagels and lox.” I countered, placing my hands on the counter for emphasis. Spencer cocked his head to the left as he reached into the refrigerator for my non-dairy milk of choice.

“I don’t know about that,” Spencer said, “I was kind of in the mood for something sweet. Like chocolate chip pancakes. Or waffles with mixed berries.”

I sighed and snuck to behind Spencer’s tall frame. I could feel his muscles tense at my touch; it was something that made my heart swell with pride. I was intensely proud of the fact that I could still make this man squirm at the gentlest, lightest, sweetest of touches.

“You’re not being fair, Y/N.” Spencer whispered, his voice caught in between a whine and an argument. “But maybe we could make a bargain.”

“What do you want to offer?” I asked, slipping my hands under Spencer’s shirt. My fingers skirted around his smooth torso, loving the feel of his soft body underneath my touch. When he spoke, his voice was shaky, confirming to me the power I held over him.

“I want cookies. Those peanut butter and marshmallow fluff ones. With chocolate chips, of course,” Spencer said, “And blueberry-lemon pound cake with icing.”

Spencer spun around so he faced me. He licked his lips, perhaps thinking of all the sweet desserts he’ll get out of me. Or, rather, maybe he was thinking of taking our bedroom-turned-shower tryst into the kitchen. Whatever it was, I loved the way he looked at me like I was sweeter than my blueberry-lemon pound cake that he begged me to make at least three times a month.

“You have quite the sweet tooth,” I stated, hooking my arms behind Spencer’s neck, “and you drive an easy bargain. I was already itching to bake today. I love it when our place smells like cookies and all that sweet stuff.” I confessed.

“Our place,” Spencer repeated, “I can’t tell you how much I love the sound of that.” He smiled. Spencer brushed a piece of my hair that fell across my eyes. His stare bore into my soul and it wasn’t fire or desire or anything like that filled me, it was that familiar, the comfortable, that sweet nothing.

“You know what I can’t wait for,” I whispered, burying my face into Spencer’s chest, “when our place is filled with our kids.”

“I hope that they look like you.” Spencer wished. “And I hope they’re just like you. Your smile. Your eyes. Your heart.” His hand rubbed my back in small circles. It felt steady and strong against my back. It was like his hand was meant to be there– like Spencer was always meant to be touching me, holding me, loving me.

“I hope they have your sweet tooth,” I smiled, “Think about all the cookies and brownies you’ll get if there’s mini-yous running around begging me to bake.”

“I don’t think I want cookies anymore.” Spencer gasped, his hands finding their place at my waist. He kissed my jawline, smiling through the affection. I couldn’t help but smile to myself as my nails scratched up and down the expanse of Spencer’s back.

“What’s got you so insatiable this morning,” I questioned, my attention span dwindling as Spencer’s careful mouth skated across my jaw and down to my neck.

“You.” Spencer said definitively. I could feel his toothy grin as he kissed me. It was like he was unable to contain himself from smiling against my skin. I felt a warmth spread from my

skin and find its way to my heart. It was quickened by Spencer’s persistent kisses, something that I decided a long time ago I’d never want to live without.

“Your choice.” I breathed. “Couch or counter.”

I broke from Spencer, eager to watch the wheels of his mind churn as he made a decision. In an attempt to both distract and excite him, I grabbed his arm that lay lazily over my shoulder. I placed his hand against my cheek and Spencer subconsciously stroked my face with his thumb. I twisted my mouth to place a kiss against his cupped palm.

“Couch.” Spencer said with certainty. “But your shirt comes off this time so I can watch your boobs as you ride me.”

Spencer giggled with glee as he led me to the couch. He sat, patting the spot on his lap for me to sit. I obliged.

He kissed my hairline, smiling into my forehead. Spencer’s hands flitted down my arms and grazed across my waist. He was the one that made me love the softness of my figure. I never felt like I had to hide the way my body naturally folded and creased. Spencer made me feel beautiful in my most raw and natural sense.

“Your skin is so soft,” Spencer said, “if there’s something I could spend the rest of my life doing it would be touching you. Your waist. Your chest. Your legs. Everything about you. It’s soft and supple and smooth. I adore you. The way you feel.”

“Spence,” I croaked, overwhelmed by the way his words stained my cheeks with flush, “God, you make me fall for you over and over.”

“The plan’s to keep you forever.” Spencer mumbled, his teeth grazed my ear as he whispered in my ear. “Is it working?”

Spencer’s fingers found their way to my waistband. He looked at me for either praise or permission, I wasn’t sure. But my hands cradling his head and my lips crashing to his was consent enough.

He was quick, slipping his fingers into my shorts elicited a complimentary proud grin from the pair of us. I twisted his hair into my hands, tilting his head up

to expose his neck. He moaned shamelessly, his thighs shaking underneath me.

“I think I’m the one making you fall to be honest, Spence.” I cooed, my fingernail tracing down Spencer’s scalp as he puffed out a shaky breath.

I lifted my hips and Spencer slipped off my shorts, leaving me completely bare. I swore I felt Spencer’s heart skip a beat as I pressed my chest against his chest, our bodies and hearts flush against each other.

I rolled my hips against Spencer’s erection, starting to laugh mercilessly as Spencer moaned wantonly. Pleasure looked good on him. And it looked even better when it was me who brought him to the brink.

“I need to be inside you.” Spencer panted in my ear. “I need you all the time, baby. I crave it. Take my cock inside of you.. Feel how hard it is. Feel each rib against your walls. That’s it. Moan for me, just like that, baby.”

I couldn’t do anything, but moan as Spencer slipped himself inside of me. He was painfully still as he allowed me to get adjusted to erection. I kissed his cheeks, a saccharine action that contrasted the filthy way he fucked me.

“Spence,” I cried out, only able to whimper his name at that point, “please move. I need it, baby.”

“I know, I know, darling,” Spencer said, kissing my face, “you take my cock so well. Now let me watch you bounce on my cock.”

Spencer’s quick movements hastened my climax. I clenched down on him, proud of myself as his face twisted in pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck.” I cried out, watching as Spencer’s erection disappeared and reappeared from inside me. Our moans filled the silence of the apartment. I felt his soft belly tighten, his tired muscles working overtime as he held me up. “Please, Spence. Please,”

“Let you come? Hmm,” Spencer hummed, his voice losing the power and control it so carefully held as he neared his own climax, “already, my love? I’ll let you come, my sweet girl. Don’t you dare look away from me. I want to see you explode as you cum on my cock.”

“No, no. Not that, Spencer,” I corrected, shaking my head to alter my previous correction, “Well, yes you are right. Fuck, it’s hard to concentrate. But no, I need you to come inside me. Please, I need you to fill me up. To give me a baby. Your babies.”

He was buried so deep inside of me, hitting all the right places as I continued to thrust my hips. Spencer attempted to keep a pace, but grew sloppier and more uncoordinated as I felt his sex twitch inside of me. He huffed in pleasure, his hot breath stinging my skin as he kissed me. The kiss was wet and needy, a testament to the tiniest thread that held our climaxes together.

“Oh God, I love feeling you like this.”

“I’m yours, love. I’m yours,” Spencer chanted as he kissed my throat. His groan spilled over my skin as he dripped from me where our two bodies met. He continued to thrust up into me, gently guiding me to come undone.

I collapsed in a heap on his sweat covered chest and felt our two hearts beat in tandem.

“Hmm,” Spencer hummed, his hand spread against my back, “I can’t wait till the day that that works for real.”

“Me too.” I confirmed. “Who knows maybe it did this time?”

I felt Spencer’s head raise up and down in agreement. He shifted underneath me, hissing with sensitivity as he slipped out from inside me. I plopped down on the couch next to him, resting my head on his shoulder.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starved. And so sore. So you owe me another hot shower, a massage, and at least three overpriced lattes. And a bagel.”

“Deal.” Spencer said. “Anything you want.”

Spencer held my hand as we made our way down the street. We hadn’t walked downtown like this in awhile, but I loved the way it looked in the beginning of spring. It was like life itself was pumped back into the world and we were lucky enough to be there to witness it.

My iced latte, though slightly burnt, revitalized me from the morning’s extracurricular activities. The other hand held Spencer’s hand. It was warm against my palm. I hadn’t had the opportunity to hold many hands in my life, but I realized soon after meeting Spencer that I didn’t care much about all the hands that I didn’t get to hold.

“Your perfect day getting more perfect?” Spencer asked. He had a canvas bag filled with wildflowers, carnations, and asters that he insisted on buying me. “How about we venture into

that used bookstore. I’ve been searching for a first edition of Camus’s The Stranger. It’s quite rare, but considering the morning we’ve had I think I’m getting lucky today.” Spencer winked.

“Ha! You mean how to practically jumped me both times. First time you didn’t care about my morning breath and messy hair in the bed and you certainly didn’t care about being so insatiable when you begged me in the kitchen.” I teased, turning around to whisper with emphasis. Spencer smiled, still holding on to my hand.

“And I won't care about your disgusting coffee breath in the car when we find somewhere to park later.”

“Park?” I said, pretending to be aghast at his insinuation, “If I didn’t know you better, Spencer Reid, I’d say you’re propositioning me. Yet again, I might add.”

“It’s not my fault I can’t get enough of you. That blame falls squarely on your shoulders, darling.”

I stopped at the bookstore front door. Though it was our next stop, Spencer’s words also threatened to stop me in my tracks. He had this uncanny ability to completely sweep me off my feet with just a few simple words.

“Insatiable.”

***

“I wrote a poem.” I said, looking over at Spencer’s reaction. I could see where his lips folded upwards into a smile.

“What a mind.” Spencer said, moving his hand to my thigh. He squeezed. “I know you’re shy about sharing them, but can I at least ask what it’s about?”

“You.” I confessed, my face flushing at the thought. It was silly, given all the things I’ve thought about Spencer, that a poem about living to love him would bring me to the brink of embarrassment.

“As I expected.” Spencer teased. He sounded a little shy himself, like was proud of inspiring all the scrawled away lines in my poetry book. Nearly half of them would never see the world beyond my two eyes.

“Well, it’s really about the sun. And how it dances on your eyelashes when you sleep in the hammock at the cabin. And your bitter coffee, sweetened by your smile. It’s not very good, incredibly cheesy and saccharine, I’ll admit.” I glanced over at Spencer, again testing his reaction, “But if I’m being honest, it might make better wedding vows than poetry anyway.”

“You wrote your vows for me?” Spencer asked. We had stopped at a red light and he took advantage of the opportunity to lean over across the console. His right thumb rubbed the back of my hand over and over.

“And you haven’t?” I mused, welcoming Spencer’s gentle affections.

“No, well,” Spencer sputtered, shifting gears as the light turned green, “I wrote them already. Well, the first draft, at least. That was done around November 15th, 2016.”

“The night of our first kiss?” I practically squealed, squeezing Spencer’s hand this time. He blushed at my excitement at my realization. “Ha! You really are being honest when you tell me you’ve loved me since the beginning.” Spencer pulled into our apartment’s parking lot, driving down the winding side roads.

“Of course I did, I do,” Spencer said earnestly. He pulled into the spot. I looked up at our second floor apartment. We had several plants sitting in pots, hanging over the ledge and lined up against the wall on the little balcony. I loved our flowers.

“Y/N,” Spencer said, holding my hands in his. The ring sparkled in the afternoon light, “when you met me, my job nearly took everything from me. Everyone expected me to bounce back just like that. But I couldn’t bear it, not anymore. I didn’t think there was much light anymore. Much of anything good, if I'm being honest. And then I met you. To you I can admit, I’m too soft for all of it.”

“Spence,” I said, my voice breaking as I spoke, “you’re the light. You’re the sun, Spencer. You’re the one I want. The one I need, you know that, right?”

“I do,” Spencer whispered, kissing my hands as he held them to his lips, “Can you promise me something, though.” He asked.

“Anything.”

“That we’ll have days like this forever. Loving each other, even when things might be hard. Even when love may not seem to be enough. We’ll make it enough. Because we have to have each other in a world like the one we got. Because otherwise it’s pointless. That’s life– my life without you, Y/N. Completely and entirely and entirely pointless.”

“Spence.” I whispered, bringing my hand to his cheek. “I really hope that was the final draft.”

Taglist: I'm not sure who's still active, but here's the people I don't feel bad bothering

@reidsbookclub @foxy-eva @ofwilliamandwalter @thedancingcostumeyoungadult @radiant-reid

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #my writing #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fluff

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kitsuvil · 6 months ago

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— food critique 【picturesque/ayato smau】

【 masterlist 】

— thank you to my lovely knighted by e'ming nephew dmitri (@/calamitygutz) for the art per usual!! he's the awesomest ever<3 quick update after yesterdays, i didn't think i was capable of back to back updates no way LOL & i hope you all enjoy my self indulgent cafe kusuri content

— taglist; @griseoo @fangygf @calamitygutz @driftwoodmanor @meigalaxy @kyon-cherri @xiaossocksniffer @quacking-simp @kaitfae @imgayandshesanime @lxry-chxn @ni-ki-ismyluv @cante-lope @kookiibun @kamisatoyato @astolary @dontmindtheevie @sn1perz @0range-juiceee @h3xi2g0n3 @eutopiastar @samyayaya

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neetily · 4 months ago

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↳ EVENT 40. M!Kylar & Sebastian (HYBRIDS)

— ✧ warnings: Crossover, Hybrids, Threesome, Yandere, dubcon, blowjob, Creampie, Lactation, mikl drinking, Pet Play — ✧ word count: 2,147 — ✧ genre: smut (18+)

— ✧ A/N: reposting from my old account since i was asked to! formatting might be off, but it's still readable.

Soft muted moos bounce off the dimly lit walls of the secluded room you're being held in, defiled within, at the mercy of two deplorable friends and their self indulgent behaviours as you lay on your back as prompted to, soft belly side up for their greedy paws to grab and grope at incessantly. Like an impulse, an innate need to explore every inch of your erotic frame now that you're within grasp. An itch they can finally scratch.

Lost little moo, you went from one captive to another, except maybe this time it's worse? A turned slave to your meek new body, it's difficult to quantify the horror, isn't it? But surely, to have one captor line himself up to your pretty, trained pussy, and the other stalker hovering cock and balls above your quivering lips, this must at least be a little worse, right? In spite of how your transformed body begs for their rough treatment, this situation is bad for you, and the anxious moos you let out as their dirty nails scratch and poke at your soft skin unfortunately only rile them up some more. Gross, right?

"Yeah? Need some help baby?" Sebastian coos down at you, faux sweet in tone as he dips his thumb from your thigh to between your legs, eyes trained on your heaving tits—God, probably so full of yummy milk for him, yeah?—as he feels his way to your clit. Gasping in pleasurably surprise at just how soaked your little cunt already is for him, drooling fat beads of precum all over your pretty slit because he can't seem to help himself. Sheer indulgence in all you're offering him right now, whether willingly or not. He won't pass up on the opportunity to mishandle the object of his desires for anything, humming idly as he starts to rub harsh circles against your clit, eager to finger more of those cute sighs and moo's out of your pouty lips— you tempt him too much. Something that feels this good could never be wrong. "Should thank that old man, right?" He can't quite remember his name, he's never met him before. Only heard stories of your time away when he'd found you wandering back into town like a lost little lamb; if not for the obvious cow tail and ears you now sport, along with the cute fattening body to boot. "Made you so perfect for us, look at you—" He gasps again, emphasising his degradation with a flick of his thumb against your puffy clit, eliciting more of those sweet dulcet moans you're making for him right now. Enticing sounds, like you're fucking asking for it. Fuck, his cock twitches with depraved anticipation; a simple sound sure enough, but like heaven to his red hot ears. He hopes you make more of those sounds when he's fucking them out of you soon enough.

And Kylar, never one to hide his emotions, whines from above at Sebastian's dirty words. Cock trembling over your mouth to drip precum down your chin, balls hovered dangerously close to your face— he's struggling to hold himself back, as per usual. A needy little sound crawling up his throat, tone pathetic when he begs Sebastian; "C'mon, waited long enough, right?" Emphasising his desperation by planting both hands firmly on your cow tits, squeezing and groping to his hearts content for you to wiggle around at. The pitiful way in which you writhe, a mere play thing for your admirers, inadvertentdly causes you to rub that pretty pussy back and forth against Sebastian's leaking tip, swapping slick with pre against your twitchy hole; this body betrays you, doesn't it?

"Go on then." Sebastian smiles, tone tender in spite of his assaulting actions. He can't think of anything else to say when your slit is kissing his tip so well like that.

Whine all you want: it's not my fault! it's just my nature now, i didn't ask to be like this! It wouldn't make a difference. Not when Sebastian chews on his bottom lip, still swiping at your clit as he taps his cock against your slit once or twice more, a needy groan escaping him at how even that feels so fucking good. Means you were made to take him right now, right? Right? His vision blows hazy at the thought, surely adorning pitch black pupils from how wide his gaze gets upon catching his tip to your hole, letting out shaky half started breaths when he feels winded from the minor amount of stimulation your breedable body is already providing him, and Kylar certainly doesn't make things any easier for him.

Where Kylar is known to be impulsive— genuinely, disgustingly, obsessed with you, Sebastian is really no better himself. He just knows how to handle himself with a little more composure is all, a modicum of grace present in how he at least tries to take his time with you, but it's ultimately no use. The weight of Kylar upon your throat, pinching at your nipples for leverage to leave you whining all high pitched and fucking pretty for them before swiftly being silenced with the addition of Kylar's cock down your open throat— naturally, you're shoved down Sebastian's cock with an over eager thrust from his friend, body coaxed into movement from Kylar's repeated impatient thrusts following, bucking down your stuffed full throat with greedy humps.

Not that Sebastian can fault his friend, gritting his teeth in sheer sexual frustration as you're made to bounce on his cock, helping you fit it all inside with automatic rolling hips, thumb neglectfully off your clit in favour of spreading your legs wide, enough to give him the perverted viewing pleasure of ruining such a pretty little cow, the sight of your tail swishing under you causing his cock to throb and dribble some more precum against your insides as a testament for how fucking horny you've got them both, turned into a toy for their own selfish lewd acts as a twisted sort of romance. Feel how hard he is? How much his cock throbs for you, all veiny and thick, right? Tip knocking against your cervix with every hot thrust down your tight little throat Kylar offers you, rendering him a babbling mess of praise and debasement.

They deserve this, Sebastian thinks. For waiting so patiently for you to return to their arms, couldn't stay away forever, could you? Offering up your heavy with milk body to them so innocently it's almost unfair, the way you choke and sputter on Kylar's fat cock as he squeezes at your tits sharply, your body rewarding them not only with the way you cunt tightens around Sebastian's sopping wet length, but also in the form of spurting milk. Squeezed outta ya from how downright desperate Kylar is for you, how his nails dig into the very skin that's gifting them so, as if he just can't seem to help but to defile you with every heavy thrust down your sputtering throat— seemingly ready to return your affections at a moments notice from how uneven and sloppy his fucks are. A breathy laugh escaping him at the sight of your milk splattered tummy, experimentally pinching at your tits again, only to lean further over you to lap up all of the sweet milk you've just spilled for him.

And the sight is so fucking erotic, the wet sound of Kylar's balls slapping against your face, your gargled groans and moans as your throat gets violated so thoroughly, pitiful little attempts to push Kylar off of you for a breather; so fucking lewd, like you don't even have to try! Tummy sticky with your own milk, and soon to be Kylar's spit as you're forced to accept his tongue at your belly button, loudly slurping and lapping at your sugary liquid with heavy huffs of air. You're almost too good to be true, how well you take Sebastian's fat throbbing cock while enduring their assault, cunt stretched to fit him as he finally has full control over you; now that Kylar is too busy cleaning you up to really thrust down your throat. And yet still, the rasp present in Kylar's gulped down moans only encourage him to fuck you faster, to ruin your creamy little cunt with quick snap thrusts, bullying his way inside your hole over and over again without a care for your own wellbeing, gripping at the fat of your thighs like his life depended on it, to prove just how much he loves your pretty pussy with rough hands and raw fucks, shivering into the way your cunt twitches along his length. Pets like you don't need to worry about anything other than making him feel good, right? But your reactions give your true feelings away. Sure, you might fight back, push and kick at them as they pleasure your pretty new body, Sebastian digging under your ass to yank and tug on your swaying tail, only to gasp with lust at how loudly you swallow around Kylar's surely close cock, but your puffy cunt is so fucking wet for him too. Sucking his cock off just so well, watching your body bounce with half lidded eyes as Kylar pushes up off your tummy with a milk stained chin— instinct simply begs for a taste.

So Sebastian gives in. It's what he's best at, really. Leaning forward over his pretty pets body to clean his friend off in return, sucking and licking off all of your tit cream while pumping balls deep into your squishy cunt. So soft and warm, do you know what he's doing right now? Bet you can fucking hear it from how messy he is with it, little hole just gushing around him as his hips stutter against your sweet spot, drooling over your taste as Kylar whines all pretty from how tight your throat gets. "S-Sweet, right?" Kylar mutters under his breath, too caught up in how well you take it, swallowing around his cock so eagerly, aren't you?

Sebastian knows. He's fucked your throat enough times in private to understand intimately just how good it feels to be buried deep between your lips, offering you one more greedy tug of your tail and another fast fuck inside of your creamy cunt before he's falling further into you. He doesn't have the faintest idea to perhaps warn you of his oncoming orgasm, focused solely on himself and not some pets pleasure. Almost bashing heads with Kylar as he fills you up, fat load milked from his sensitive tip to breed the whining exposed cow. Your name falling from his lips as Kylar soon follows suit, pulling out a bit too slow to leave you smothered in seed, choking on the salty taste as he jerks off above your fat tits, leaving your tummy once again messy for clean up.

And your cunt doesn't look any better, stroking himself inside of you idly when he's done emptying his balls, Sebastian finally feels like he can breathe again. Coming down from such an insidious high, who could ever blame them for their display tonight? Your inherently lewd body, just begging to be stuffed, to be bred like the bitch in heat they view you as. Which, ideally, would be an every day occurrence now that you're back home, back where you belong. You should be thankful that they not only saved you, but are also tending to your beastly needs.

Quietly, he hears you mewl. So softly, barely audible over the loud whines from Kylar as he continues to rub himself against your tits, poking his tip at your nipples while Sebastian warms his cock inside of you. He hums to himself absently while watching his friend, feeling his cock twitch to life inside of you.

"Wanna go again?" He tilts his head curiously, aware that you can't actually see his reaction, but the breathy tone of his voice is hopeful to coax you into a round two regardless. It's easier when you want it too.

But ultimately, it doesn't matter what your response is. Kylar still crawls over you, pushing Sebastian out the way before worming his body to between your legs with the intention of taking what rightfully belongs to him. Eager to train his new pet, no doubt.

"C'mon, it's my turn, right? Just wanna make you feel all better, bet it hurts to be so full, yeah? Just—" Ignoring your exhausted moo's, once again, a cock is lined up to your cum stained cunt. "Ah, just making up for lost time, okay? That's all. Promise it won't be long."

Though, if Sebastian knows Kylar even a little, he'd guess that that's a thinly veiled lie. More likely, you'll be stuck between them all night long.

He might as well continue enjoying himself too then, right?

#sdv smut #stardew valley smut #sdv seb smut #stardew valley seb smut #sdv sebastian smut #stardew valley sebastian smut #dol #degrees of lewdity #dol smut #degrees of lewdity smut #kylar the loner #kylar the loner smut #sebby🐸#kylar🔪

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moodymisty · 1 year ago

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Hello, i'm actually new to this blog, and was wondering if i could request something for either War or Death from Darksiders? i honestly don't mind wether it ends up sfw or nsfw! Anyways, would love some headcanons for War or Death (i'll leave the choice of which of them to you!) with a chubby and short female S/O for what a relationship would be like? Again, can be sfw or nsfw, or both X3

Hope you have a awesome day/night! 😁

Author's Note: Hello, and welcome to the madhouse, we cook self indulgence here. I was originally just going to do Death, but I had too many ideas and decided to just do both of them. Also as a 158cm girl, I feel this prompt in my soul.

Relationships: Death/Fem!Reader, War/Fem!Reader (Reader is implied to be shorter than average and also a lil chubby)

Warnings: Some NSFW (not explicit just a little lewd implication) content along the SFW stuff, Not really much of note

✦ War ✦

SFW

War has always known Humans to be some of the smaller of the Realms inhabitants, but when he'd first met you, he never realized that a full grown human could be this, teeny.

Your relationship makes him realize just how tall he really is; Sure he was the tallest of his fellow Horsemen despite being the youngest, but you can barely reach his chest. It was the main thing that had grabbed his attention at first and had him thinking about you.

He often picks you up with one arm so you're sitting on his forearm, and you wrap one arm around his shoulder while his hand cups the side of your thigh. It's not as if he thinks you're incapable of doing anything, it's just that War has trouble making his gait slow enough in order for you to keep up with much smaller legs. This is just easier, and you don't seem to mind.

Secretly thinks it's the cutest thing when you try and hold his hand- especially with his gauntlets on.

Your small and soft nature absolutely triggers some sort of instinctive, protective feeling in him. He tries to hide it and remain stoic, but he's always in your shadow.

While he isn’t apposed to getting on one knee and giving you a kiss on the lips (War doesn’t ignore the power you have that you can get a Horsemen of the Apocalypse to kneel before you) he most often leans down to give you a kiss on the top of the head. War finds initiating affection daunting as he's quite unfamiliar with it, and as such you’ll usually have to do so. A kiss on the head is one of the rare things he’ll do unprompted.

War absolutely adores how soft you are. As the largest and strongest of the Horsemen he’s used to being a ruthless battering ram, so touching such soft things is something incredibly foreign to him. You’ll have to convince him you aren’t that fragile, but once you do he loves to hold your body close and maybe even fall asleep. Sometimes you'll catch his hand on your thigh or hip just gently holding onto you.

NSFW-ish

You have eyes way too big for your stomach.

And it’s not any more apparent then when you’re with War alone and he’s stripped of all his armor, and you realize just how massive he still is. It wasn't as if you thought he wasn't big per say, it's just, you assumed his armor was more of his mass than... This. He's still gargantuan.

It's even more so obvious to him; As when he puts his hands on your body, he realizes how much they swallow you and how soft you feel.

He worries enough during the day about accidentally hurting you, but this just dials it up to eleven.

War has, trouble containing his more aggressive emotions at times, and he’s worried in his fervor and passion he’ll wound you. If he did, he’d never forgive himself.

As such it takes him a decent while to be able to do anything you would consider somewhat rough or doesn't involve him holding back to quite a degree. It's hard for him to believe you aren't actually that fragile.

Sometimes you find him almost getting distracted by how soft you are, his hands squeezing your sides or thighs. It's like he's lost in thought.

He loves it when you sit on his lap. Be it in any scenario. Doing so is one of the easiest ways to make sure he is very much paying attention to you.

✦ Death ✦

SFW

Death may be shorter than War, but that doesn't say he's short by any means, at least according to a human metric. As such you're often times cocking your head up quite far to look him in the eyes; Which often times bear down on you so intensely you shrink.

He jokes about your height quite a bit, but it's in his usual wry, humorless wit. Things like asking if you need help getting up stairs or getting onto Despair with an amused strain to his voice.

Dust loves you. He usually sleeps on the headboard of your bed, but if Death isn't around he'll often times hop down and lay down on your belly or back, at least until Death returns. The Reaper sometimes leaves his crow with you to keep an eye (and give you some company) on you, and he'll often return to his giant curmudgeon of a bird on your thighs. He likes how soft they are and how much real estate he has to fluff up.

Secretly enjoys putting his chin on your head and resting it there. It makes you upset which he finds amusing, but there's a closeness to it that he likes. He enjoys the feeling of you being happy in his personal space.

He is ceaselessly overprotective at times. A lot of the time. You're so much smaller and softer than most of the denizens of the realms he's used to, whenever you get close to them he's instantly thinking of the worst possible outcomes. He tries to hold it in most of the time, but there's been more than a few times you've felt him looming right behind you just emanating hatred, or grabbing your shoulder to pull you back away from something or someone.

He'll try and play the 'ugh affection' card quite a bit, but he loves when you pull him down to give him a kiss on his cheek or mask. As long as you're not too overbearing he'll generally let it slide. But he, doesn't feel deserving of it- of you, though he enjoys it none the less.

NSFW-ish

Death hasn't felt like this about anyone for long enough that he struggles to remember. He just knows he cannot fuck this up.

To have someone care about him this way and to be so vulnerable, whenever he thinks about it he nearly doesn't know how to act.

It's like the Creator himself made you in such a way that it drives him up a wall. The first time you undressed in front of him he actually froze for a moment, to the point you thought you did something wrong.

It's actually quite easy to tease him, but not in the way you think. Lewd comments get next to no reaction, he's been there done that. Things like gently holding onto his arm, telling him you missed him; Those are the things that work.

Unlike War, Death is far more capable of holding in his strength, so he doesn't have as much of the same fear regarding hurting you. It's still there just, not as overt.

Loves the feeling of your hands on his bare skin. They're so soft, sometimes he can barely feel them.

Since you are so short, it's so easy for him to trap your body underneath him. Sometimes it surprises him how pliable you are to it, to him (not many would want Death itself to loom over them, especially in this way) but he'll still greedily indulge. He loves the way you look up at him.

#darksiders x reader #darksiders war x reader #darksiders death x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting #Darksiders

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prxciouslullaby · 14 days ago

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SUMMARY: Eyeless Jack is in desperate need of a distraction from the voices. He doesn't expect this, though. [AO3 link] CONTENT WARNING(S): Self-Harm mentioned

He can hear them. At the back of his mind, slowly growing louder the longer he tossed and turned in his bed.

We don’t need sleep. We need to cut into ourselves and find the secrets within. We need to throw ourselves against the wall to see what breaks. We need to drown in the river to see how much water our body can hold.

His body aches, its desire to satisfy their cravings growing stronger as the seconds pass. It finally becomes too much and he sits up from the ground, exhausted. The voices grew louder with every passing night. They were manageable before, but the sudden influx of killers seeking him out for help was starting to take a toll on him. More than he’d care to admit.

It was time for a distraction.

Eyeless Jack stands and adjusts his mask properly on his face. He drags his feet to the cabin’s door and leans against it. The smooth wood feels cool on his skin. He lets out a pleased sigh, but it’s short lived. The voices grow louder. He stumbles out into the night, his hands shoved into his pockets, as he walks into the surrounding woods. It doesn’t take long for the trees to start shifting, but without a set destination in mind, he isn’t sure where he’ll end up.

Right where you need to be, a voice in his head tells him. It’s his own voice, he realizes, but he doesn’t know how he heard it above the others.

The wind caused by the shifting trees feel great against him. He lifts his mask and allows the cool air to whip against it, it’s force enough to send him walking a few steps backward. His cravings do not subside, however. The voices beg for more, urge him to slam his body into one of the trees as it moves to see where he’ll land, how hard he’ll hit the ground. His body trembles as he fights every urge to give in. He puts his mask back on and trudges on.

After a few moments, the trees slow to a stop and form a path before him. It’s harder to see now, though, and he sees the trees have lined up so close together, with their branches hanging over the path, that he assumes they’ve blocked out all the moonlight that was previously shining down on him.

Nevertheless, he follows the path. The dirt beneath his feet is unexpectedly soft, much to the displeasure of the voices. He’s sure that he hasn’t been here, wherever here is, so his curiosity is piqued enough to ignore them. The dirt eventually gives way to grass and he looks up to see a lake in the distance.

Sweet peace, he thinks to himself.

He doesn’t make it to the lake, though. Not yet. He hears rapid footsteps approaching him from his left side and he turns to scan the trees for movement. There’s a flash of white that darts between the trees closest to him and in a split second, he finds himself side stepping out of the way as the white mass launches out of the trees and slams into a tree across the path. A loud groan escapes the white mass, and it takes a second for him to realize that the white mass is actually Jeff in his hoodie.

“You bitch!” Jeff hisses.

The voices agree with Jeff, disappointed that they couldn’t indulge the craving, but Eyeless Jack smiles as he watches Jeff slur out curses at him.

“It’s great to see you too,” he says simply. He reaches out to Jeff, who clings to the tree he landed against, and gently helps him up, much to Jeff’s annoyance. An annoyance that he doesn’t hesitate to voice, per usual.

“Stop touching me, that– OW FUCK– Stop treating me like I’m fragile– SON OF A BITCH– You’re an asshole, why didn’t you just let me–”

“If you ran quieter, you would have caught me off guard, Jeff.”

Jeff glares at Eyeless Jack. He expects Jeff to continue shouting at him, per usual, so he’s surprised when Jeff simply walks down the path, hissing and cussing under his breath. He follows him, in part to make sure he doesn’t collapse on him but also to investigate the reason for the sudden change in his demeanor.

The end of the path widens out into a clearing of grass that sat before a vast, calm lake. Its reflection shows the cloudy sky above them, but the clouds don’t indicate any signs of rain as far as Eyeless Jack can tell. But he wasn’t one to reject rain, anyway. There were worse things to be inconvenienced by.

Eyeless Jack turns his attention back to Jeff, who was now glaring down at the grass. Eyeless Jack realized he could see him better here, see the splatter of blood on his sleeves and the smeared blood on his face and neck. Jeff was hunched over slightly, his hand pressed against his side. Eyeless Jack recognizes the stance.

This idiot.

“Who did you get into a fight with this time?”

The question causes Jeff to direct his glare at him, a scowl now plastered on his face. Eyeless Jack figures he won’t answer him – he never really does, leaving him to find out weeks later when the other killers mock Jeff for it – but he can’t help but try to distract himself from the voices in his head. He knows they would just love to live inside Jeff’s head for a day.

“Why the fuck do you care? Wanna scold me like I’m a fucking five year old?”

The question takes him aback. Jeff’s tone betrays the hurt he was trying to conceal, but it’s also dripping with an anger that he’s only seen a few times. It slowly dawns on him that, despite the time he’s spent getting to know Jeff’s habits, they might not view one another the same. There’s no way to outright ask Jeff, however, without him mocking the question for what it is and storming off to do who knows what. So instead, he slowly lifts his hands in defense, hoping the gesture is enough to convey the thought to Jeff.

Jeff’s scowl softens a little and he looks out to the lake. He’s still for a moment, and Eyeless Jack wonders what thoughts are running through his head to leave him so quiet. He doesn’t get to ask though, as Jeff breaks his silence with a heaved sigh and runs a hand through his hair. Eyeless Jack notes that his palms and fingers are bleeding, but the cuts the blood flows from are particularly precise and straight edged. It tells him that the cuts were self-made, and that Jeff’s ticks have returned. He’ll have to convince Jeff to go back to his cabin somehow, but that would be for later.

Jeff shoves hands into the front pockets of his jeans and pulls something out from them. He shoves them into his front hoodie pocket before Eyeless Jack can see, though. He tilts his head back, staring up at the sky. His expression is relaxed now, albeit replaced with an emotion Eyeless Jack can’t quite pinpoint. The tension that was in the air had dissipated, though, so he takes that as some sort of victory. It isn’t until Jeff extends an arm out to Eyeless Jack that he realizes what’s fully happening.

A pack of cigarettes and a lighter sit in Jeff’s bloody palm.

Because Jeff was never one to apologize. Eyeless Jack was convinced he couldn’t, but that was neither here nor there. The message is clear.

A peace offering.

Eyeless Jack gingerly takes them from his hand and opens the pack to see that it’s full. He doesn’t ask Jeff where he got these items, knowing full well that would ruin this moment of peace, but he nods to Jeff and steps away from him. It’s enough to get Jeff to grunt in acknowledgement before his hands disappears behind his back.

The voices scream at him to stop as he stares at the pack of cigarettes. He feels a thrill knowing that they know what comes next.

He lifts his mask, just enough to expose his mouth, and presses a cigarette to his lips. He lights it and inhales deeply, feels the smoke fill his lungs, and the sting that comes with it spreads throughout his whole chest and throat. He holds his breath then, lets the discomfort sit there for a while as it fills every space left in his body and satiates his craving, silences the voices.

Everything goes silent, for a moment.

And then he hears the crickets chirping in the distance, accompanied by the sudden howl of a coyote. And he feels just about ready to pass out, so he tilts his head up to the sky and lets out his breath. The rush of relief that washes over him as he watches the smoke billow above him is enough to get him smiling again.

“EJ?”

For a moment, he forgot Jeff was there.

He turns to Jeff and sees him still standing a few feet away from him. Jeff’s eyes are trained on him but his clenched jaw makes it clear that he doesn’t quite understand what’s going on. Which, Eyeless Jack realizes, is a good thing.

“...Yes?”

Jeff opens his mouth to speak but immediately turns away from Eyeless Jack, muttering something under his breath. This change amuses him, but once he sees Jeff clenching and unclenching his fists repeatedly, he quickly pivots back to concern.

“Do you…” Eyeless Jack hesitates on his next choice words. He knows Jeff won’t ask for help on account of his ego, even if he’s on the verge of another collapse. “Do you smoke, Jeff?” Jeff shakes his head, burying his hands back into his hoodie pocket. He doesn’t turn around, though, causing further concern for Eyeless Jack. “Do you want to try? If you’re interested, that is.”

Jeff doesn’t react at first. Eyeless Jack almost convinces himself that Jeff hadn’t heard him, but he notices Jeff’s hands stop twitching in his pockets. And then he hears Jeff cuss under his breath – in the way he does when he feels like he can’t talk himself out of whatever situation he’s put himself in, like he’s been defeated – and sigh. Jeff slowly turns around to face him, his lips pulled into a tight-lipped frown, and closes the gap between them.

“What’s so good about it?” Jeff grumbles.

Eyeless Jack wordlessly holds the cigarette out to Jeff, who takes it and holds it up to his lips. He watches as Jeff takes a drag and immediately lets the smoke out with a wheeze. His face turns to disgust as he looks at Eyeless Jack.

“What the fuck EJ.”

“You get over the taste after a while, if that’s what’s–”

Jeff shakes his head and glances out to the lake as he takes another drag from the cigarette. Eyeless Jack follows his gaze and sees in the water’s reflection that the clouds have parted. He walks closer to the water’s edge and looks up to see the stars, hundreds of them scattered across the sky, shining down on them. The sight leaves him breathless again and he’s suddenly filled with a flurry of emotions that run through his body faster than he can identify them.

He doesn’t realize his mouth is open until Jeff elbows him in his side and snickers.

“What? Never seen stars before?”

“They’ve never been so bright…” he murmurs.

He half expects Jeff to start laughing at him, but when he instead feels him standing right beside him, he knows that this night really is different. That this moment is just for the two of them, no matter how brief, and that things would be different moving forward.

They would be different.

#eyeless jack #jeff the killer #creepypasta #Precious Writes #set in the same universe as World of Chaos #you definitely don't need to read that fic to understand this tho #since this event happens prior to the events in that fic

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silentgravesdontexist · 2 months ago

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Self-Ship Content w/ Ace~

Note: This is extremely self-indulgent. The title says it all. As per requested as well by @ofoceansandtombsanew🫶

CW: Does first person POV self-ship count? lol

Word Count: 500+

Childhood Enemies(?)

It was hate at first sight.

Both parents are marines who usually went on long missions. They were close to Garp and wanted me to become a Marine. So, they thought it'd be a great idea to leave me in his care whenever they were out on missions.

Garp brought me along to Goa one time to visit Luffy and Ace and introduced me to them. I was hiding behind Garp and clung to him.

Ace looked me dead in the eyes and went, "I don't like him. He looks like a pampered brat." With that scrunched look on his face.

We were constantly on each other's throats since then. There was barely ever a moment of peace whenever we interacted. But I did get along with Luffy and Sabo. Just not Ace.

Didn't rlly help that I wanted to be a marine while he wanted to be a pirate (well, three of them wanted to be pirates) but Sabo would somewhat mediate before Ace and I threw hands at each other (again).

On the day Garp was finally taking me back to Marine HQ, we got into an argument. He said it was good riddance to have me gone, and I started crying.

Even Luffy chided Ace for that. Eventually, Ace gave in and admitted he'd miss our interactions— just a bit. Patting my head and even saying we'd meet again if I promised to stop crying.

Ofc, I came back a month later. After threatening Garp, I was gonna drive a fleet into a whirlpool using my devil fruit if he didn't let me see Ace and the others again (I was 10 and almost did).

Pre-Relationship

Went from being a well-known navigator of the Marines to being one of most wanted criminal for punching a Celestial Dragon square in the face real quick into my career as a Marine.

MIA for almost half a year. Ace was the only one who managed to find me. Hauled me over his shoulder and dragged me to his ship where I started free-loading.

The only reason he found out I had a...feminine body was when he accidentally walked in on me while I was changing (he thought I was a guy ever since we met).

There was a lengthy discussion after that. And he was visibly confused for at least a week. Always out of it for some reason. But he had the spirit, did his best to understand and respecy my identity.

Both of us were horrible at communicating and being honest with our feelings.

I had a crush on him when we were kids but stopped since he only looked at me platonically. And he had feelings for me when we were in our early teens but never confessed bc he was scared I'd reject him.

Now, there was that tension neither of us wanted to address. Everyone in the Ace of Spades could tell. But both of us were still stuck on the "What if they reject me and think I'm weird or a creep?" fear.

#look it's self shipping hours #the homies #one piece #portgas d ace #with: ace #do i feel flustered writing and posting this? yes #was it extremely fun that i forgot my period cramps? HELL YEAH

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moonstarinfinity · 2 months ago

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Planetary Returns

Hello Friends!

It's been a long time right? Well we're slowly making our way back to this blog, and what better way to come back then to talk about Planetary returns?! We're going to cover the basics and give some insights into how these specific transits can show up in your life. It helps to have a basic understanding of signs, planets, houses, and aspects, so this post may be a little more intermediate to advanced than beginner level. We hope you enjoy, and we're looking forward to sharing a bunch more with you soon!

*Please do not copy, redistribute, or alter and claim our work as your own. We work really hard on our content, so please be considerate and credit us for the time, effort, knowledge, and love we put into our posts. All of our astrology posts are for entertainment purposes only (we aren’t licensed in things like medicine or psychology so we legally have to put this here) and as such should be taken as they resonate, and not as legal, medical, or health advice. Not everything will fit with you exactly with astrology in every situation, so please be discerning about what feels right for you. 💜 *

What does it mean when a planet "Returns?"

A planetary return happens when a planet returns to the exact location it was at when you were born. These happen at different intervals and times of your life, depending on the planets speed & where your personal planetary placements are.

One of the most well known (and beloved) planetary returns is your solar return, though it's usually referred to as your birthday!

Once a year the earth returns to the exact spot it was at in its orbit around the sun when your birth occurred. This is the only return where the celestial object it’s named after isn’t the one doing the moving, as the planet that does the moving is earth, since we orbit the sun, the sun doesn't orbit us.

So how often do planets return? What are the themes are highlighted during these times? Lets break it down by planet!

Solar Return (Sun) - This happens every year on the day you were born (though the time of day changes each year.) YOU are highlighted during this time. This shines a nice big spotlight on you and brings you all kinds of attention. This is also a day that focuses on your expression & helps you see your goals and purpose more clearly. This is why birthdays are the days that are all about us. This is also an extremely important day each year as it shows us what themes we will work with for the upcoming year until our next birthday. (More on that in a separate post all about Solar returns - coming soon!)

Lunar Return (Moon) - This happens once a month and is based on the moon's orbit around the earth. The effects tend to last a couple days. It's the most frequent return that we experience in our natal chart. The things that come into focus with this largely are based on your moon sign, but you can expect tightened intuition & sensitivity during this time. You may also feel more connected spiritually & emotionally, and feel more inclined to express your feelings, spend time with family, or learn about your ancestors.

Mercury Return - Mercury returns once per year as it's the fastest moving planet in the sky. You can experience a boost in communication, travel opportunities, intellect, and exchanges of all kinds. You may also get more invites, reunions, learning opportunities, & social media growth when this transit is happening.

Venus Return - This happens about once a year, and we typically experience its most potent energy over a period of a few days. This transit brings a focus on our love lives, partnerships, self care, aesthetics, & legal/financial matters. It's a time where proposals, dates, indulgence, beautification, glow ups, & spending more time with partners are all in the forefront. For anyone who is single this can also be a really auspicious time to meet someone new!

Mars Return - Mars return happens about once every one to two years depending on retrogrades. The effects are most potent for just a few days, but it does move a little slower so we often feel a little more of the build up and cool down than with the previous planets we've discussed already. This is a time where more fuel gets added to our own personal fire. It's a great time to start new things, make bigger moves, spend some more time in the bedroom, and use your stamina for more intense projects and actions. It might feel easier to move forward, or like you suddenly have more energy & willpower than you usually do.

Jupiter Return - Jupiter returns about every 12 years. (So ages 12, 24, 36, 48, etc.) This is the planet of expansion, fortune, luck, abundance, higher education, & long term travel. You may receive a lot of aligned opportunities & lucky breaks during this time. It's a time where we see some potential manifestations moving in. It's also a time that may feel more lighthearted & optimistic, & it's a great time to experience new places & cultures. We often focus on tradition, philosophy, & the bigger picture during this transit.

Saturn Return - The second most heard of return is definitely the Saturn return. This return is known for being less enjoyable than most of the others, and it happens about every 29 years. The most commonly observed one is around age 30 (it affects us from about age 27 to age 32 though.) This brings a time of life where huge shifts & changes happen. It's kind of like when we're taking our steps onto the next level in our lives. Growing up & maturity are focuses during this time, and often this transit comes with making big decisions from our authenticity & breaking away from old narratives & conditioning. The changes are for the better, but are foundational & can be very challenging. Think new jobs, moving, letting go of people, places, & things we've outgrown. New realizations about who we are, what our path is, & what we really want & need from life become apparent. We're often forced to align with these things during this time, whether we want to or not. But the key is: if you do the work, Saturn will reward you, & it will reward you well.

Uranus Return - This only happens a couple times in life depending on how long we live. It returns at ages 42 & 84, and brings with it innovation, change, & what we typically call the "midlife crisis." During this time people often feel like breaking free, doing new or unexpected things, & redesigning their lives.

Neptune Return - We won't ever see a Neptune return in our lifetime as this happens every 165 years. This planet spends about 14 years in each sign & moves VERY slowly. This planet *does* show a generational shift in core beliefs, art, music, spirituality, & approach to restriction, addiction, & mental health.

Pluto Return - This is also a return we will NEVER see. It takes Pluto 248 years to orbit the sun & we often only see it move through 3-4 signs in our lifetime, as it can take anywhere from 12-30 years to move through a single sign. It is currently working on moving out of Capricorn into Aquarius, where it will remain from 2025 - 2044. This is also a generational planet, but it concerns itself with transformation, reform, the taboo things, occult, & deep issues that need burned down and started fresh.

There is one more astrological object that returns that I want to talk about, & that's Chiron. Chiron is an asteroid & is often times referred to as "the wounded healer." (Look for more info on Chiron coming in the future!)

Chiron - This return happens once in a person's lifetime, around age 50. (If you live to be 100, you get to experience this a second time around as well.) This return is a big deal as it contributes to the "Midlife Crisis" & can push people to confront their biggest wounds, if they haven't already. There will inevitably be life changes during this return, but how you handle them & their difficulty depends on how much growth & healing you've done on this placement & your core wounds up until this point. Expect childhood traumas, inner child healing, leftover teenage angst, nostalgia, & introspective epiphanies during this time, as well as huge life altering realizations that come with the push to make changes that are aligned for you.

This is a really quick breakdown of planetary returns, and as previously stated, how each of these shows up for you personally is going to depend on your own chart & the transits that are happening when you experience them.

For example: someone who has their Mars return in Cancer in their 3rd house is going to experience their Mars return completely differently than someone with Mars in virgo in their 10th house. For a deeper look at how these affect you it would be helpful to have a return reading from an astrologer, or to have a more advanced understanding of astrology & transits.

Are you experiencing any planetary returns right now? We hope you learned something new, & have fun diving into your own placements in relation to these special times!

#astrology #planets #planetary #Return #Solar return #Astro notes #astrologer #astro #transits

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starl3ng · 2 months ago

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Duplicitous Desertion

2 - Perfect Weapon

Angel returns to Hays Minor to retrieve her things… and takes on the rather nerve-wracking task of improving Kylo Ren’s lightsaber.

Ao3 | Tip Jar | Next

Content: Kylo Ren/Fem!OC, MDNI, sexual content, eventual NSFW, self-indulgent, slow burn, canon-typical violence, mentions/descriptions of injury and death, general angst

5k words

What felt like hours had gone by and Angel felt like her stomach was eating itself. She was used to only two meals a day on Hays Minor, and her body knew it must be getting close to dinner time.

A knock that echoed through the entire cold room sounded from the other side of the metallic door. “Move to a corner furthest away from the door and remain seated,” a muffled voice called from the other side.

“She is not a prisoner, nor a threat. You don't really have to say that,” another voice whispered.

“Sorry habit,” the voice spoke louder and directed itself to Angel again. “We are coming in with your meal.”

So, her stomach wasn't that far off after all. Angel tried to bite away the smile that was forming on her lips. That banter was familiar from earlier. However, when the door slides open, it’s hard to tell if the troopers she’s looking at are the same as before on looks alone. “I didn’t know stormtroopers had friends,” she comments from where she sits on the bed, watching her food come carried in. The man who walked in first was casually holding his blaster while the other walked in with a meal tray in his hands.

The one holding the gun shrugged. “Why wouldn’t we? We almost all have things in common, we are stationed together for long periods, and most of us find that in our downtime talking to each other is one of the nicer things about this life.”

“Aside from the green slop!” Her tray was sat on the edge of her bed and the soldier who had chimed up stepped away.

The other trooper sighed and put his hand to his helmet as if he could actually feel his hand holding his head.

The trooper who’d carried the tray spoke up again. “No really, that stuff is great.” He pointed to Angel’s food. “Trust me, I don’t know what's in it but the First Order really outdid themselves when making our meals.”

The trooper with the gun pulled his hand away from his helmet and slapped the other one on the back. “Just get your ass out, quit yapping. You annoy me enough. Do you really need to annoy her with that ‘green goop’ crap too?” The two of them were silenced by the shutting of the door and Angel was left alone to eat.

She slid the tray into her lap and hesitantly probed at the goop with the utensil provided. It looked gross—disgusting, even. She had to wrinkle her nose and close her eyes as she brought it to her mouth. The texture was… goop. Similar to pudding, actually, but the flavor was far better than expected. “Oh,” Angel sighs in relief. “It’s pretty good after all.”

When she’s finished, she leaves the tray by the door and takes to pacing her cell. She already lived a pretty sedentary life on Hays Minor, so simulating her usual walk home would be good for keeping her body healthy. When that wears her out and the light gets dimmer and dimmer, Angel settles onto the small bed and closes her eyes.

She is woken the next morning by a similar manner of slamming on the door followed by a shout. “You are to be brought back to the port today as per sir’s orders. We are bringing you to his transport now.” The door opened and the two troopers from the day before walked in side by side.

Now having been able to observe them for nearly a full day’s cycle, Angel was able to pick them out a little easier. The taller one spoke more formally and to the point, while the other was shorter by just an inch or two and had a tendency to be more friendly. She would have no breakfast it seemed. Not enough time probably. The two most likely had other things to prepare for this expedition and had to grab her last minute.

Nodding, Angel slides off her bed, groggy and still half asleep. She lets them take her arm in arm and notes that their grip is much gentler than it had been yesterday.

While walking to the ship, she notices a couple more defining features of the route taken: a hallway that splits in two further down, a large, long window, and a pipe along the ceiling that looked like it had been bent.

Her shoes squeak on the floor as they near the small ship. “Do you have any water?” She asks the two men who chaperone her, clearing her throat as they trudge up the metal ramp into the shuttle.

“Uh-“ It was like they had forgotten that all humans need water to survive. They probably just had water supplied to them in their suits or something. After all, the First Order’s technology vastly outdid that of the original Empire which they so closely followed.

One of them reached with his free hand and unclipped a small black container off his belt. It had a small mouthpiece on it. “Here,” he said as he handed it to her. “These are for emergencies; if we get stranded or stuck, for example. I've never used it.” Then he looked to his shorter companion. “Try to remind me to pick another one up when we return back to our quarters. Whenever that is.”

The shorter trooper nodded and the two placed Angel—much more kindly this time—back into the room she had been in the first time she had used the shuttle.

“Thanks.” Angel takes a seat where she had the day before. Once the two troopers leave her, she downs the water quickly. When she’s finished, she slips the container into the pocket of her baggy jeans and clings to the handlebar. This time, she plants her feet more firmly as she prepares for that uncomfortable, lurching force of takeoff.

When they land on Hays Minor, the white-haired woman is already standing at the door, muttering under her breath as she goes over the mental list of things she needs.

Three pairs of footsteps appear, promptly following a ‘yes sir’ from both soldiers.

When Angel’s door is opened, the stormtroopers have multiplied. The two she had grown used to stood outside her doorway, one holding it open, while five others pooled out from a door identical to hers across the bottom bay of the shuttle. So that's what the bench and handles were for. This was where the troops would wait for landing.

She had barely enough time to see the black helmet of the mysterious ‘Sir’ who had offered her the deal as he quickly walked off the landing door with the five other escorts. How much force did they plan to use to take over the shop?

“Hey, come on, we don’t have all day to stare. Where is your house?” The tallest trooper asked. He pulled up a holographic map of the planet and the port on his wrist.

Angel stepped up to him, peering at the map that hovered above his wrist. She gingerly pointed to a location east of the port city, which was more of a slum than a neighborhood. “Right there. I live on the outskirts.”

The trooper nods and turns to the open bay door, signaling for Angel and the short one to follow. While still in cuffs, it seemed neither of them intended to hold on to her. They probably assumed she wouldn’t be stupid enough to pull a stunt again.

Angel’s breath fogs in the cold air of Hays Minor as she and the two troopers step onto the snow. She’s got no jacket, so she sets a brisk pace. They’d landed not far from her now-old workplace, so she knew the direction well. It would be a twenty-minute walk. At least the wind was low and the snow wasn’t falling.

For a moment, she glances back at her old workplace, hearing distantly the angry shouts of her boss. She turns her gaze forward once more, telling herself that it wasn’t her problem. It wasn’t.

Angel’s house is more of a shack. The roof is lopsided and probably not far from caving in due to this year’s heavy snowfall and her door doesn’t exactly fit well into its frame. She sighs like it’s home, though—when she steps inside.

The two troopers stand just inside the doorway, looking around like they’d never seen conditions like this in their lives.

There’s a drip in the ceiling with an overflowing bucket beneath it that Angel tiptoes around to make a beeline for her tiny cot of a bed. There, crouched beside it, she tugs out a cardboard box. She sets it on her bed as she goes around her house, grabbing things off shelves and from drawers to stuff into the box. When it’s nearly full, she grabs one last thing; a terribly worn stuffed animal missing an eye. It looked to be a puffer pig, though skinny and floppy from decades of use. Angel sets it on top of the box and hoists it into her arms. “Ready,” she says seriously as she heads for the door.

The two men nod and part so she can get on through.

“Do you need me to carry that for you?” The shorter one offers.

“Hey, those weren’t in his orders. We’re supposed to get the girl here and back, not help her,” the taller one argues.

“Right, sorry—never mind then.”

Angel blows a strand of hair out of her eyes as she steps onto the snow. “Thanks anyway,” she says over her shoulder, tilted sideways to see over her box.

Some of the people who live in this part of town peer out of their windows to get a look at the spectacle. Angel ignores it and heads back in the direction of the ship, which sits in the distance, outline crisp above the rooftops here.

Angel’s pace slows as they near the ship. Her breathing’s heavy too. The box’s weight was beginning to weigh on her. That and she was trying to get a look at her old workplace now that they were passing it by. Many tracks in the snow were left pouring from its doorway. It looked empty now.

Back on the ship, the loading bay was empty except for the nameless, dark figure she had been in the company of for almost a full day's length. Once Angel was on the ship, he gestured with his head to the box she carried. “Set it down. I want to see what you brought.”

Angel looked at him for a moment, clearly not wanting him to look through her box of things, but she had no other choice, she knew this. So, she sets the box down on the metal bench and steps away, glancing nervously at her stuff and then at the faceless man before her.

His presence felt oppressive, as did that distorted voice that resonated from his mask. She wonders quietly if he was just as scary without it.

The man approaches the box on the bench and begins to rummage through it, inspecting certain tools and parts she brought along, stopping when in his large hand he grasped ahold of the ratty and worn fabric of the stuffed toy she had brought. “What is the purpose of bringing this?” He asked her as he held it out for her to see.

Angel avoids looking at him, cheeks turning red. “My mom gave it to me,” she mutters. “I can’t remember her face, so it means a lot to me.” It was the truth. The toy had been with her when she was taken and it had been clutched in her hands, dirtied and tattered, when she’d returned to a silent, barren house months later.

He nodded silently and set the toy down. Then he pointed to the end of the bench. There sat the jacket that she had lost the previous day when she had tried to make her escape. He must have picked it up when he returned to the shop front.

Angel followed his motion, turning. “Uh, thanks.” She looks at the sopping-wet article of clothing. A real helper. She rolls her eyes when she knows he can’t see. “How did uhh… my boss take the news?” She looks back at him, tilting her head.

The man was silent as he thought of a way to answer. “Unfortunately for him, he was less than cooperative.” The mask muffled his speech, making it sound almost monotone.

Angel blinks. “Does that— are you saying—“ Was her boss dead? Had she passed by a grave without even knowing? “Are you saying you killed him, or…” she trails off, beginning to sweat.

“Yes.” He turned swiftly, long cape dramatically following him as the two troopers followed behind and shut the door. A muffled shout came a moment later as he directed the pilot to take them back to the Star Destroyer.

Angel slumps down on the seat beside her box of stuff. She brings a hand to her forehead, brushing her bangs back momentarily in shock. She hated her boss. Still, that didn’t change the shock of his death.

Now, Angel really begins to panic. What if she didn’t live up to expectations? What if she failed to complete something on time? She had nowhere to run up there in the stars.

—

Things changed the next time she stepped foot on one of the First Order’s Star Destroyers. She was given a real room, not some cell, and more tools and trinkets to work with at a desk that was bigger than the tiny bench Omaf had ever provided.

She had been given a few hours to get settled in before the door hissed open and heavy black boots stepped into her quarters.

Angel stands quickly from the desk she’d been sitting at for the past couple of minutes. She’s taken an interest in all the parts that had been set there. Some of them clatter without her hands there to hold them upright.

Her posture is much the same as it had been just a day ago; when they’d first interacted. Shrinking back like a cautious cat, silent, and waiting.

The door automatically shuts moments later and he continues to step forward towards her. “Have you made something?” He asked, dark helmet tilting slightly.

Angel glances down at the half-finished—what she called a ‘doodle’ of a creation—a windup… thing, easily taken apart. Of course, with no winding key, it wouldn’t move. “Er- no, no, aha,” She steps forward and leans her rear against the desk, brushing the thing behind her to hide it. “Nothing of importance, I mean. Just—practice.”

He gives a small hum, its meaning unclear before moving on. “Hold out your wrist. I have something for you.”

Her wrist is held out to him not a moment later. There was distrust in her eyes despite how quickly she’d followed his order. Angel’s eyes darted around, looking for whatever he had to give her.

In one of his leather gloves, he held a black, adjustable band which he clasped around her wrist, then tapped. “This will put you in the First Order’s database, so people won't accidentally kill you thinking you are some spy or escaped prisoner since you have no uniform.” It was a small, blue, holographic screen and had a box for her name and picture, but both were blank. Below it was the title, ‘Kylo Ren; personal weapons expert.’

He then explained, “I need you to fill in your name and provide a photo. At the time of making this, I had neither of those things.”

Angel reads the name on her wrist twice over before her eyes slot up to the man in front of her. Um. Her heart pounds. Whose personal weapons expert?? Shit. She knew that name. The entire galaxy knew that name. “Y-yeah no problem.” She fiddles with her handcuffs so that she can tap on the little screen, where she types in ‘Angel’ and nothing else. She didn’t know her last name or even her real name. She just knew her mother had called her her ‘angel.’

A couple more taps and Angel’s holding her wrist level with her face so that the little computer can scan her face. When it’s done, she looks down at it. It’s like a collar. Sort of.

“Great. Welcome to the First Order.” The big, clanky cuffs gave a brief hum as the machinery inside disarmed. Moments later they clattered to the floor.

Angel sighs in relief as she rubs her wrists. “You have no idea how hard it is to sleep in those things.” She mutters as she stretches her arms high above her head, then out and down. “And carry a box. And fix your hair. And eat.” Her eyes study the ceiling before tensing when she realizes she might’ve spoken out of turn.

When she turns back to him, his dominant hand is pulling something from the inside of his cloak. It gave a quick click and breath of air before a beam of color lit the room. It was a red, humming, glowing lightsaber. He really was THE Kylo Ren, rumored to have done horrible things in the past few years under the mentorship of the Supreme Leader. He took a step closer, the sound changing as the saber slowly moved through the air.

Angel pales immediately, her nervous expression dropping into horror. Bathed in electric red, she takes a step back. “Oh fuck. Uh, I’m so sorry I won’t makeajokeagainpleaseputthataway.” She glances at the lightsaber, terrified. It’s a wild thing; unstable. “The cuffs are really comfortable, actually. Like, the most comfortable cuffs I’ve ever been put in, in my opinion!” She smiles despite the sweat rolling down her forehead.

The mask remains unmoved, unchanged, not even the slightest tilt to reveal the emotion beneath. He rotates his hand and clicks his saber off with his thumb. As if he heard none of that, he silently held it out so that the end was pointing towards the wall, not at either of them. “I figured you would be curious how I built it.”

“Oh,” Angel breathes in relief. “Oh, of course, of course. I knew that.” She lifts her fingers, letting them hover around it like touching it would kill her. “I am. Uh, it seems a little unstable. Is it safe?” She looks up at him with a raised brow.

“Yes, it—cracked while I was constructing it. The crystal I mean. It's safe enough to examine, please.” He moves it a little, wanting her to take it from him, to touch it and examine its inner workings. “This is what I want your first official project with me to be. I want to know what improvements can be made.”

Now that—Angel thinks as she gingerly takes it from him to turn it over in her hands and carefully look over every part—that was unusual. Men like him—men that were so high in ranks they might as well be playing god—didn’t just ask for criticism.

Surely he understood how scary this was for her? To tell him what his own saber needed? Well, she had some compliments at least, before she got into the nitty gritty. “A cross guard?” She taps the two vents on its sides. “You’re a genius. I’ve never seen a crossguard on a lightsaber before—not that I’ve seen many lightsabers. No one will want to try and get anywhere near your hands.” She tilted it in hand. If his crystal was erratic, the cross guards were a good way to vent whatever excess energy it put out. The crackling buzz of it still rang in her ears. Wild thing.

The figure stood silent, helmet not allowing her to see anything that was going on in his eyes and across his lips. Little did she know, the man underneath just got a little warmer as his hands reached to formally rest behind his back. “Yes, I added the cross guards later on to try and divert the extra amount of heat the crystal produces since it burns hotter than most.” He took a raspy breath from inside the helmet, almost sounding awkward. “But the energy is still not as focused as I would like it to be. I don’t understand why.”

Upon closer examination of the saber, Angel could make out that along the hilt were black marks that were not actually part of the design; scorch marks from before the cross guards had been added. She tilts her head this way and that, nodding. “When you’re uhh… fighting, is there a lot of…” She knew nothing about lightsabers, honestly, but she knew a lot about other weapons. “… recoil? When you’re fighting does it bounce back in your hand?” She turns the handle over, running her fingers across its scars.

“Yes. It takes an amount of strength at times to be able to just hold it still. I’ve grown accustomed to it.” His legs separated a little again, getting in that shoulder-width stance, hands still behind his back. Did he have a hard time standing still? “It becomes—tiring when I use it too long.”

Angel glances back at the mechanical thing she’d whipped up out of boredom and then back to his lightsaber. She’d never worked on stabilizing something that was sword-shaped. It would be a fun way to expand her horizons, though a bit scary with him leaning over her shoulder about it. “Is there… A training ground of sorts? I’d like to see it in action just once before I try some things.”

“Of course, there are many. I have a private one I use.” His posture relaxed as he turned and began to walk out of the room, ready to take her there now.

Angel perks up a little, swiping a notebook from her desk as she follows him out the door. It felt weird walking these halls without cuffs and with a wristband that basically said she belonged to him. Because if it didn’t, she’d be dead.

The door hisses shut behind her and she trots along to keep up with his brisk pace. Fast, she thinks as she glances down at his legs. Well, that explained it. He’d been gifted with long legs; something she’d been gifted with too… but clearly they weren’t enough to keep pace. “I think I should be transparent with you!” She says as she hurries along behind him. “That I’ve never wor— ahem, I’ve never had the privilege of working on a lightsaber before.”

“I didn’t expect you to.” His reply was quick and to the point as he turned down another hall. Workers in uniforms and troopers in gear all moved out of the way when they saw him coming, some of the smaller workers in uniforms even looking frightened when they saw him round a corner.

Angel took note of their frightened expressions and knew that what had been almost friendly to her was not friendly to others.

When they reach his private training room, Angel looks around for a place to stand out of the way. For a moment she’s in her notebook, scratching down bullet points she wanted to cover. She wanted to see it at every angle she could so she could at least get a feel for its weight and behavior. “Okay.” She looks up from the page. “First, I just want to see it activated again. No movement. Just hold it still.”

He nods. The room was large and mostly empty. Where Angel was standing was a panel lined with buttons for certain settings in the room. He takes a couple of steps back and pulls the lightsaber he had taken before leaving her quarters off his belt. Holding it in both of his hands—straight up and down—he clicks it on. The hot laser shoots out in a series of hisses and clicks, continuing to make strange noises even as he holds it still.

It was not very visible and if he was not holding it still it would be entirely unnoticeable, but his hands show a small tremble of struggle as he keeps it still. It really did seem to want to move around in his hand.

Angel squints at it, creeping just a little closer. She notices its sound; a low purr that cracked and popped. Her pencil works on the page, recording its sound and behavior. It was a scary thing to look at. Part of her wondered if it would explode at any moment, especially when she took note of the length of its resting blade, which buzzed like loose electricity.

“Swing it slowly.” Angel motions with her pen the exact movement she was looking for as she stepped away.

He nods, turning the blade so that it’s parallel to his chest in a defensive pose. Then, his grip adjusts and he brings the blade to a backward, dagger-like position, like how one would hold a staff or blade.

Angel watched the beam shiver as it was moved through the air. Her pen scratches the page as she makes a couple more notes on its behavior with the air. “Alright and…” She looks up. “…Use it how you normally would. Uh—beat the crap out of something.” She gestures around the room and backs up far away, plastering herself to the wall.

A leather glove points to the control panel by her shoulder. “Press something,” he told her as he began to pace and get himself ready. He held it in that backhanded position again, a fighting style most wouldn't think about when they would picture a Jedi or Sith using a lightsaber.

Angel hums under her breath as she turns and looks at all the buttons. There were tons. “Uhm…” She reached out and pressed one that was a deep blue color. It lights up under her finger and there’s a whirring sound that has her turning back around to watch.

Three hatches in the floor slide open around him as three dummies emerge from the floor. They had a sort of field around them that was similar to the shields on ships.

The masked man leans down and takes a lunge at the first one, dragging the red blade behind him as he dances around the triangle of three targets. The shields bounced the blade back as he began to grunt from underneath the mask. He grew faster and more frustrated as his blade continued to bounce off the shields until finally, he managed to slip through and gave one of the dummies a clean strike through the chest.

The room sounded a buzzer and the dummies slowly began to sink back down into the floor, leaving him panting in the empty room.

Angel was rubbing her cheek before she quickly jotted a couple more notes down. She was smiling. “Ahem.” She clears her throat and presses her tongue to the inside of her cheek to try and stop it. “The feedback you get when you wield it is pretty strong, but you seem used to it. I’m…” She finally gets her smile to go away. “…Hesitant to try and stabilize the beam itself because, from a fighting standpoint, it actually has some uses when it comes to reaction time.” She lifts a finger to her lips, biting the knuckle. “I wonder if there’s a way to utilize that feedback. Eh, I’ll think of something eventually.” Angel walks towards him. “I have a question; do the uh… marks on the handle of your lightsaber have any sentimental value to you?” To her, they were nothing but weaknesses in the structure. But if they meant something to him, she’d find another way to cover those weaknesses.

“No. The first time I powered it on before I modified it—it malfunctioned. Those are just the burn marks. After that I made the hilt to divert the energy to multiple locations instead of one.” Overall, he was somewhat prideful to hear that it didn't seem like the repairs he had made were hindering the weapon's potential. As she had pointed out, it was almost more of a unique advantage.

Angel nodded as he spoke, inspecting it still. “Before I saw how you fight, I thought about adding some sort of wrist guard to keep it from slipping from your hand if the recoil was ever too much. But now that I’ve seen you… the wrist guard would be a hindrance.” She tilts her head. A loose and brutal fighting style. He almost relied on it slipping from his hands so that he could adjust his grip mid-battle.

“Changing the direction of your crossguard to more of a V-shape came to mind as well, but you already utilize the T-shape—it’s good for sideways mobility.” A little exasperated sigh leaves her lips. “There’s… there’s honestly not too much I think I can do when it comes to stabilizing its actual beam. It… well, it’s a cracked kyber crystal. I don’t know much about them but… uh.” She taps her pen in her notebook. “You said you cracked it while you were constructing it. Am I allowed to ask… how?” She winces, looking up into his mask.

“Definitely not,” came his quick answer as he powered off the weapon and turned it over in his hand. “If you can come up with no changes then I accept that there is nothing further I can do to better myself than train.” He clipped the weapon back on his belt and walked to where Angel was.

She hisses internally at the wall that had been brought down between her and that unstable crystal. Damn it. Angel shuts her notebook and clips her pen onto its side. “Well, thanks for the demonstration.” Her lip quirks up. “Seeing how you fight is good insight for designing weapons, especially if you wanted to use something other than your saber once in a while.” Her eyes travel up to the ceiling in thought.

What kind of weapon would suit him, if not his saber?

#oc #oc x canon #kylo ren #kylo x oc #ben solo #ben solo x oc #kylo ren x oc #ben solo x fem!oc #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars self insert #kylo ren smut #ben solo smut #my writing #angel (oc)#duplicitous desertion

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inkblot-inc · 2 years ago

Text

Call Me Anything But Human

Summary: There's aways something that lurks in the dark, but often what's scarier is what lies out in the open.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf!Reader

Warning(s): 18+ as per usual, so hey MINORS DNI. there's also smut near the end; we got cnc, strap on use (wanda recieving), and edging (R recieving). Dark Themes; R literally eats someone alive, so like blood and gore + cannibalism(?), pretty sure there's language as well, I dunno about you, but that's probably the least of your concerns reading the previous warnings-

Note(s): What’s more self-indulgent than sharing a new universe earlier than planned? Hahaha someone please humor me here, I have so many goddamn WIPS. It's a lil intro for everything else to come as usual. I hope you enjoy :3

Word Count: floating around 2.2k

*squints* I give NO ONE permission to repost or translate my work. Make your own shit

You watched from afar as the frail old lady hobbled her way back into her tiny cabin. The closest house was miles away, let alone a market.

You watched a dim light flicker on from inside with a static noise following soon after; she cut the TV on. You licked your chops in anticipation, creeping out from the tree line to make your way closer to the residence.

Silently coming up to the front window, you peer inside to see the older woman settle into a recliner with a steaming bowl of food ready to watch the tube. You don’t know how senile this lady is, but it’s definitely to your advantage that she’s not more aware. Looking around through the window still, you notice a slightly larger window cracked open over what looks like the kitchen sink.

It’s ballsy. A straight shot view from the main room.

Walking around the side of the cabin, you make your way to the kitchen window and slip your hand under the crack to lift the screen up slowly. There’s an audible *clack* when it goes all the way up.

There’s a cough and some shuffling as you stay stock still…

Nothing else happens.

You hoist yourself through the window, landing with a dull thud, The click of your claws on the rickety wood flooring was hardly noticeable. The TV droning on helped cover up a lot of noise no doubt.

From there, there was no real need to be discreet as you surged forward to maul the drowsy elderly woman. You were on her before she could even think to get up. Her half-eaten bowl of chicken and rice tumbled to the floor in a heap as you tore her neck open. Your other clawed hand ripped open the old lady’s stomach exposing its contents as she choked on her own blood. Her attempts to yell or even call for help were useless out here; her eyes were wide and mortified as she was essentially eaten alive. Bones and all.

The old woman’s head was the last to be devoured and you couldn’t even look at it as you shoved it down your gullet.

It helps that you don't know this lady personally at least.

Crunching on a bony hand that was left, you eyed the spilled food that remained lukewarm with the oily sauce trying to stain the unvarnished floorboards.

It could never compare to the full course meal you just had…

The scene had next to no sign of struggle, with all but a small collecting pool of blood and a smattering of torn and bloody clothes on the pleather lazy boy.

Before you could get to tidying up any evidence you could have left behind, your ears pricked up.

Footsteps and a light jangle of keys.

Your eyes widened as you made your way back to the kitchen sink to clean your newly shifted face and neck of blood, along with your hands. Finding a hallway closet, you tore off your crewneck before balling it up and chucking it inside. You were left in a black t-shirt and jeans as everything in the closet was either too small or too identifiable.

You pulled the flashlight from the top shelf along with your phone as you heard the front door open.

Turning around the corner, you call out to the person that's just entered the cabin, flashing the light in their direction. "Westview county sheriff's department! Keep your hands where I can see them!"

"Whoa wait! What's going on?" The person was revealed to be a brunette woman, probably in her mid to late 20s.

"I was called to check out a new missing person's case we got at the station. One Agnes Black. The trail led me to discover the scene here. I'm going to need to ask for your name and ID, miss."

You made sure to keep the interest on her for a bit as you tried to get yourself together to form a plan. "Oh! Um, Wanda Maximoff. Agnes is a family friend, she's the only one that's still around. Or she was… I tried to stop in every so often to make sure she's doing okay out here on her own."

You bury your nerves at the situation as you watch the young woman go to scramble through her bag to get her identification. She pulls it out to show you clearest day: 'Wanda Maximoff, twenty seven, NJ driver's license'. Designation: human.

Not a threat.

You look back up at her, " Right, well, this was the scene when I got here. No sign of forced entry, but quite a bit of blood."

Wanda raised a brow, " You came out to an unknown residence, in the middle of the woods miles from town, alone?"

You felt your face burn with embarrassment at her tone.

It did sound stupid as hell.

You cleared your throat, " I'm new. I guess I just… wanted a chance to prove myself I guess." In a sense this was true. You had just landed a job in the sheriff's department, but You didn't care to impress any of your peers in the slightest. You'd rather the woman think you an overzealous idiot, than have her build suspicion.

Wanda looked up slightly to squint at your face before a look of recognition took over her features. " You're Bigby, right? I know I've heard that name mentioned around town. The hot new deputy sheriff that came down from New York -"

Wanda's hand came to cover her mouth a bit too late, " or so I've heard, you know,"

You flash a bit of a pointy smile at the brunette before you scratch the back of your neck. " Well, for the record, Bigby is my uncle, my name is Y/n." If only he could see his "Lil Bean" now…

Wanda's answering smile with sheepish, but there was a subtle shift in her green eyes that you couldn't exactly place. " I wonder if he'd be proud or disappointed to see you follow in your family's footsteps."

You gave a brief laugh through your nose, taken a bit of back before Wanda spoke up again. " At least he never shat where he ate though, right?"

"What?-"

All you saw was a red mist passed over your eyes before you were knocked out cold, Wanda standing over your unconscious body.

—-------------

Waking up, you found yourself in what you could only assume was a basement or some other underground room. The cement floor and persistent draft lending to this as well. While trying to move around, you found your hands and feet bound together with chains. Your attempts to break free with your supernatural strength proved to be pointless against whatever this metal was.

The sound of a door creaking open had you halting all movement. " I still have to get things insulated down here, but my guess is that it's not even cold enough for you to feel little more than a breeze right now."

You can only stare straight ahead as you heard the subtle clop of footsteps coming down cobbled stairs from behind you. Wanda came around to stand in front of you with a subtle smirk and a tilt of her head.

Her diffident posture was long gone.

" Well, Natasha wasn't lying. You are pretty cute." Wanda firmly grasped your chin between her thumb and four finger as she moved your head this way and that. " Human meat must work wonders for a mutt's skin."

To be quite frank: you were terrified. All creatures that brought undue terrors or committed crimes onto others, especially if it involved the harm of humans, were promptly and harshly dealt with. The most efficient way being torture for intentions before death. Government authorities often worked hand in hand with the Purifiers in that way.

Wanda briefly rolled her eyes as she sensed your heart rate spike, most likely from fear. " I'm not with the human puritans, if that's your worry, Wolfie. More like an interested third party."

You took a small breath of relief as you could cross the worst case scenario off of your list of possibilities. " Then- what do you want with me? Did you even know that lady?-"

" You mean your dinner? Yes, but Agatha has served her purpose. She owed it to me after all," You turned slightly as Wanda went on. "And I want you, officer, to be my inside person while I conduct my dealings."

Your eyes narrowed at her assured voice, " and I would just agree to that right? Be for real, woman."

Wanda’s smirk simply stayed in place. " Well, I could just drop off all the photographic evidence I have of you scouting and devouring your last four victims, all of whom are on the missing persons listings." Plenty of photos fluttered to the ground, fanned out for you to see yourself at your most vulnerable. Wanda tutted her tongue almost mockingly, " such a sloppy puppy, they'd have a field day with you I'm sure."

Your eyes were frozen on the high-definition pictures of you hastily leaving a woman's penthouse, clothes still bloody; one of the few cases that you've filed after spending the night with them. Gwen-something. Jesus, wasn't this in New York? Her father was still looking for her when you moved away...

You vaguely knew that Wanda was still speaking. " And, if that's not enough, you ingested Agatha's whole body. One of my own reanimated corpses bound with a fealty clause. One could assume it had passed on to you. I'd hate for you to have to find out what happens when that clause is broken firsthand." Your mouth could only open and close like a fish as you thought through the whole thing.

You don't have an option. You really don't.

Wanda sauntered closer to your restrained form as her fingers ran across your shoulders. She leaned over till her lips we next to your ear. "Way to be thorough, huh, Y/n?" Her hands lightly smoothed down your arm.

You tried to keep your face as stoic as you could. "Fine. What do you want me to do?" Wanda patted the your cheek rough enough for it to be considered patronizing instead of soothing. "We'll hash that out in time, don't you worry your fuzzy little head about it."

"But details, details…" Wanda's voice trailed off as she proceeded to straddle your waist, your breath caught. " You must be relieved to finally have some familiarity, huh?" As Wanda continues to shift on top of you to make yourself comfortable, you feel an odd amount of pressure that causes you to gasp.

Wanda's mouth lifts into a sly smirk, " there we are. This will end different then you're used to, I'm certain. There is one other thing you'll have to get acquainted with." One of Wanda's hands runs down your shirt over your stomach before lifting up the hem halfway for you to see.

A new wave of panicked confusion would have had you jolting around again if Wanda wasn't holding you steady.

From your pelvis and spreading outward, we're visible black and dimly glowing veins under your skin. Staring hard enough, you could see them pulse occasionally before the anomaly seemed to fade into your skin.

And it was all connected to the strap on between your legs.

Still struggling to comprehend, you just about lost your ever-loving mind when Wanda gripped it in her hand.

You could feel it.

The new feeling of sensitivity you basically had you like putting in Wanda's hands. "Hah- how…" You catch Wanda's eyes glow again, and it was almost impossible to string two thoughts together with the constant pump of her hand.

" It's more than you probably deserve, but I'm going to enjoy bringing you to your knees this way." You whine involuntarily as Wanda takes her hand off to untie her robe.

Wanda's breasts were now exposed, nipples hard with a rise of goose flesh being out in the cool air. She lifts herself up and lines your cock up at her entrance, and you watch as she fully sinks herself down on it, and she doesn't move. For a good minute. The haziness goes away as you fully connect with Wanda. The pleasure you feel is immediate and you feel a familiar tightening sensation in your stomach.

Wanda leans forward, her mouth latching onto the side of your neck. God, she felt so full. Her hands come to rest over your shoulders before her nails dig in. She feels the muscles there a bunch up a bit before slowly relaxing. The moment Wanda starts moving, she gets a low grunt from you as the toy slides in and out of her pussy. Every stroke, every flutter from inside does something to you, and it's the most tantalizing thing for Wanda to watch and feel.

Your hands keep trying to break through their bonds as you feel your high coming up. You can't help but whimper from under the brunette as she keeps abruptly stopping right at the edge. " Please," Wanda's watched you struggle this whole time, but she all but stops writing you and she's plays coy. "Hmm? What do you want now, baby?" Her rhythm is slower, teasing.

"I'm so fuckin close, can I please just cum?" Your hands clench open and closed behind you in desperation.

Wanda hums before she purses her lips, making her look far more innocent than her actions would dictate. " I don't know, I still feel like you haven't learned your place, honey. You might even use those claws for something you shouldn't…"

"I-" she can see your cheeks bloom with a blush at the situation You found yourself in. You were supposed to be angry, fight back, hold your ground even! But Wanda held all the cards and you knew it. You both knew.

And it didn't take her much to get here.

" Please, Wanda. I just wanna make you feel good, I just wanna cum!- I... I won't try anything. Just please…"

Wanda, continue to look down at you before her smirk returns. " You say please really pretty, puppy…"

You sounded pitiful to yourself. Practically groveling to fuck Wanda properly and cum, but at this point? Pride be damned. The red was all consuming.

But there are worse things to give in to.

#marvel #marvel one shots #call me anything but human #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff #succuwitch!wanda #werewolf!reader #succuwitch!wanda x werewolf!reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x yn #jc inkworks #ink.wanda #ib-jc.

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triponthelight · 23 days ago

Text

Chills me down to my soul

Kraken!Danny Wagner x AFAB/GN Reader

18+

Warnings: graphic sexual content, horror themes, monster AU, inappropriate use of tentacles, a tad bit of degradation, weird autonomy (octopus stuff), penetrative sex (it ain't a dick though), reader fucking dies?, death mentioned multiple times, language/cursing, hostage situation, as always..shitty writing

Word count: 1.8k

ok this is not going to be everyones thing. this was a very self indulgent fic (as per usual), I could not shake the thought of kraken danny, so here it is. can y'all tell I'm fixed on pirates?

the night was cold.

You are traveling with a small group of pirates. At the moment, you are on a small boat, paddling to shore for a minor attack, planning to rob in the night and escape by sunrise. You had been rowing for about an hour, you had to keep the main ship far away from the land as to not alert the people. There was 7 of you total crammed on the vessel, 5 of which were asleep, leaving only you and one other awake.

Neither of you had spoken, not interested in conversation at the time. The water was still, making it fairly easy to cross. Well, you thought it was still, until there was a rough rock of the boat. It woke up two other men. You all looked around in confusion, but not seeing anything, relaxed back. A moment later, it happened again, rougher and repetitive, 3 times. Now everyone was awake. You looked out, the water was perfectly still. There was something beneath you.

Suddenly, the ship was forced to a full stop. You attempted to keep paddling to no avail. It was as if you were anchored down, or had crashed into something. You looked up at the bow to the first mate of the crew, who was facing you, looking confused and concerned.

"What in Gods name is going on?"

Your eyes widened as you looked past him. A massive tentacle was rising from the water, dead silent, rippling, poised to strike.

"Holy fuck"

You were cut off as it grabbed the man and pulled him down, and before you could process it, the boat was flipped. You can just barely hear the screams of your crew before you are submerged under the water. The dark sky makes it impossible to see anything in the sea. As death begins to take you, you can ever slightly feel something wrapping around you, pulling you down.

A loud thrumming pounds in your ears, a steady beating. You awake and sit up, coughing, hurling up water. The beat comes to a stop. You blink and rub at your eyes, trying to adjust to the light.

You are sitting in a dark, rocky cave. The ground is covered in ankle deep water. The air is chilled, the water cold. You are sopping wet and freezing, shaking.

In the dim light you can just barely make out a figure in the corner. It wasn't human. The only thing you could see were its eyes. They were dark, hungry. Staring into your soul. You shuffle back as much as you can before crashing into the back wall of the cave with a thud. It laughs softly. You glance around, trying to find any form of escape, yet there was nothing.

It slowly moves towards you. As it gets closer, you can start to see it's features. The top seems to be that of a man. Tall, muscular, pale. His jaw is sharp, his nose arched. He has long, black, curly hair. It's damp, sticking to his skin. His eyes are set on you. Deep browns, focused. Your eyes travel down his body, and the sight would have made you shiver if you weren't already. From his waist down came eight, thick, long, dark blue tentacles, moving in sync as he came over to you.

"What a pretty little thing."

The end of one of the tentacles wraps around one of your ankles and roughly drags you forward. You cry out and he shakes his head, the grip tightening.

"Hush. There's no one else here to listen."

When you quiet down, it loosens, but doesn't let go, instead, slithering up your leg, coiled around it. Another comes forward, wrapping around your other leg. They were wet, yet gave a little warmth. Alive. Through the material of your pants you could feel the hundreds of suckers that lined them, attaching themselves to you.

You writhe a bit against them and he leans down until he's eye to eye with you, head tilted, questioning. You stop to look up at him. He was actually rather handsome.

"Do I frighten you?"

His voice is soft, his eyes on yours. You weren't sure how to respond. You were terrified of him, yet intrigued. Curious what this creature was. You shake your head and his eyebrows raise in surprise.

"Really, now? You don't look too confident in that."

You sit up till you are nose to nose with him.

"I'm not scared."

He slowly blinks, and when he re-opens his eyes the whites have faded into a golden yellow, the pupils narrowing to thin black ovals. He grins.

"How about now?"

You lean back away from his face, startled. He tuts and brings a hand to the back of your neck, pulling you forward, forcing you to look at him.

"Ah-ah-ah, no. Look at me. Are you afraid?"

You stare into his eyes. His glare was intense. You swallow thickly.

"No."

His nails dig into your neck just a little bit. He shook his head and smiled.

"How interesting. You should be, you know?"

He wanted you to be afraid. Usually humans were horrified of him, and the fact you seemingly weren't pissed him off. You had every reason to be scared, but you were acting like you weren't.

"Why should I be?"

You boldly questioned. He laughed, baffled. He leaned back, speaking through gritted teeth. The tentacles tightened around your thighs and pulled, forcing them open.

"Are you stupid? Blind? You do realize the entirety of your little crew is dead because of me, right? I could kill you right now. Should have just let you drown with the rest of them."

You gave the smallest bit of a whine when the tip of one of the tentacles brushed across your crotch, not purposely. The creature quickly stopped his ranting, leaning towards you again, a smirk playing across his lips.

"Oh?.. Are you….sensitive?"

You knew your cheeks were flushing red. You couldn't believe yourself, getting aroused by some monster just barely touching you. One of his other tentacles coiled around your waist and lifted you up, holding you before him. You tried to squirm away but he held you firmly in place.

"You want more? Answer me."

Rationally, you should have said no. Rationally, you should have been trying to find an escape. But what did you have to lose? There was no way you were making it out of this alive, so why not indulge in one last fantasy before you're killed?

"Yes."

He grins and sets you back down. The tentacles come off of you for just a moment before one slithered back between your thighs. It nudged your shirt up your stomach before hooking into the tie holding your pants up, tugging it loose. Another tentacle snakes up and they both dip under your waistband and pull your pants entirely down and off.

He bites his bottom lip as he takes in the sight of you. You can see now his teeth are a little sharp, mainly the four front ones. Not extremely, but enough to be noticable. The end of a tentacle flicks at your inner thigh, a silent request for you to spread them more. He smiles when you obey.

The tip of the tentacle slowly runs up your cunt, brushing across your clit carefully. The sensation elicits a soft moan from you. He repeats this motion for a couple minutes, over and over until you are trembling with need. You look up to find his eyes entranced on your cunt.

"Please.."

You whine softly. He looks at your expression for a moment before he begins to slowly push the tentacle inside of you, his eyebrows knit together tight in concentration. A groan drags from deep in your throat at the burning stretch.

You could feel the suckers attaching themselves inside of you, creating a pulsing sensation, it was like nothing you had ever felt before. The creature hums softly, closing his eyes as if he was thinking deeply about something. He opened them again and leaned in close enough that you could feel his breath on your neck.

"You taste so sweet."

You looked up at him in confusion, trying to figure out what he meant, or how he knew what you tasted like. He laughed quietly.

"The suckers. That is how I taste. You've never seen an octopus before? I certainly can't taste with this."

With that, he leaned in and ran his tongue over your neck, and the feeling made you shudder. His tongue was covered in tiny little sharp teeth, scraping across your skin. A radula. You curled in on yourself, horrified of it. He sat back up, grinning.

"Oh my Gods. What the fuck-"

He cut your words off with a particularly deep thrust into you, making you stutter, a surprised moan slipping out. He continues at a slow pace, fucking you ruthlessly with his tentacle.

"Yeah? You like that, you little harlot?"

As he spoke he picked up a brutal pace, shoving it into you until you were writhing and clenching, crying as he brought you right to the edge. One of his free tentacles slid up and wrapped around your neck, not tight enough to kill you yet, but enough to make you struggle to breathe.

"So close!.."

You choked out.

"Give it to me."

His eyes flashed dark as he watched you intently. He was reaching a part of you that you didn't even know existed. This all felt so incredibly wrong, so strange, yet, you had never felt so good in your life.

You cried out as you came hard. He kept a relentless pace through it, fucking you until you were sobbing and shaking with overstimulation, begging him to stop. He slowly pulled the tentacle from you, leaving you feeling sore and hollow.

After a moment of just watching you, he moved his tentacle from your throat and instead to your waist, bringing you up by it so your face was close to his.

"Y'know, I was always told not to play with my food."

Your eyes widened at the realization. In the depths of pleasure, you had entirely forgotten just what you were dealing with. This beast had every intention of consuming you and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

Before you could even speak a word one of his hands slipped up and yanked your head back by the hair. His sharp teeth sunk into your neck, tearing through the flesh, fully ripping your jugular out.

The last thing you saw before the icy hands of death embraced you was his eyes. Far too human for the destruction they caused.

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prpfz · 3 months ago

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Hey, there!! 🚬

I'm looking for something super self-indulgent! Some intense smutfishing is ahead involving my transman OC looking for a cis-male OC opposite! I prefer descriptions or drawings as opposed to real-life faceclaims.

I am unfortunately looking for someone to write as a dom/top to my bottom/sub. 😓 I usually write dominant characters, but I'm currently in dom/top fatigue and need to recharge. That being said, I am looking for NSFW, dark content, and dead dove themes! Specifically dealing with themes of noncon, detransitioning, forced feminization, and overall transphobia!

I'm 30+ and write mainly on Discord -- I can be talked into Tumblr DMs for this, though! I am literate, usually manage 3-4 replies a week, and am looking for 200-500 words per response! Third person, past or present tense!

I have two plots I am interested in writing for. However, I am super open to collaborating and adding more to the ideas, if you have them! In both plots, I'd like to write as my transman OC being taken advantage of by your cis-male character.

The first idea I have is simple -- your character clocks mine as a trans person in public. I'm open to playing my character as a newer transmale, so he would still have feminine traits. Wanting to humilitate him and take advantage, your character follows mine into the men's bathroom and forces himself on MC!

The second is a prison situation! Both of our characters are recently transferred inmates. My character was imprisoned in a men's only prison, but because he's been there for a while and has been denied gender reaffirming coverage, his testosterone levels have gone way down and he's become more feminized. I want YC to notice this jackpot that he's in and go for it!!

Feel free to like this ad and I'll reach out!

give a like and anon will get back to you

#oc roleplay #oc rp

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neetily · 4 months ago

Text

↳ EVENT 40. M!Kylar & Sebastian (HYBRIDS)

— ✧ warnings: Crossover, Hybrids, Threesome, Yandere, dubcon, blowjob, Creampie, Lactation, mikl drinking, Pet Play — ✧ word count: 2,147

— ✧ A/N: reposting from my old account since i was asked to! formatting might be off, but it's still readable.

"Go on then." Sebastian smiles, tone tender in spite of his assaulting actions. He can't think of anything else to say when your slit is kissing his tip so well like that.

Though, if Sebastian knows Kylar even a little, he'd guess that that's a thinly veiled lie. More likely, you'll be stuck between them all night long.

He might as well continue enjoying himself too then, right?

#sdv smut #stardew valley smut #sdv seb smut #sdv sebastian smut #stardew valley seb smut #stardew valley sebastian smut #dol smut #degrees of lewdity smut #kylar the loner #kylar the loner smut #kylar🔪#sebby🐸

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