#will i ever draw anything for these again? who knows! I was struck with the idea on the way home from school and since my brain is too fried

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

Started with Knuckles and things snowballed from there. I’m normal about Knuckles, Tails, and Sonic’s hair actually

[damnfeelings09]

VALENTINE'S DAY COUNTDOWN

You're in love - Leon S. Kennedy x fem reader

Pairing: Leon S. Kennedy x female reader Tags: fluff, comfort, love, love, love, stablished relationship, memories, cheesy stuff. Word count: Prompt: you and Leon have been together for 10 years, yet every day still feels like the first. One day while Leon’s not home you find your old diary and find yourself reliving your love story. Notes: The tears/shivers/emotions I felt while writing this I can't compare to anything. I loved this one so much I'm totally writting one for Shadow just like this. It makes me very happy to be able to express my feelings and “relive” them even if only in this way, hopefully someday I and everyone will find a person who loves us just like in the books, until then I will keep pouring my heart in my writing.

The summer heat was present in your home. The sunlight reflected colorful flashes as they hit the window. The floor was littered with boxes, some marked with “fragile” others with “Leon stuff” but your attention was on the box with your name on it. In it you had found your childhood stuffed animal, pictures of your family, a few unused stickers and an old notebook. You recognized it perfectly, there was no way you could forget that beautiful blue notebook with green hearts that had been with you for so long. Having a diary sounded childish, but for you it was important to keep your memories somewhere safe and if you ever wanted to relive them you could do it. For more than half an hour you had been rereading all your witticisms, the stale jokes you made with yourself, the desires and goals you had set for yourself when you got to college. Almost halfway through the journal you found a sheet of paper with your name and Leon's name on it with a big heart around it. Of course you knew where that drawing was from, you had drawn it the first time you had seen Leon, turning the page you found the entry for that day:

02/02/1998

The University of Illinois is really nice! I am so excited to leave for the summer. Mom says she's not ready for me to leave home but she's secretly happy for me. We visited some stores, museums, but the best part of the trip was going to the Italian restaurant Olio e Piú. Our waiter was sooooo cute. His name is Leon Scott Kennedy, he is 21 years old and just finished the police academy, he said that being a waiter was only temporary while he was waiting for the draft to know where he would be sent. I almost fell out of my chair when I saw that on the bill was his number written. Of course I didn't waste a second and sent him a message on my way out of the restaurant. We are still here for 3 more days and he offered to show me around. I don't want to sound urgent but I think Ms. Kennedy sounds great.

You chuckled. Back then you were so love-struck and dreamy. Your younger self had so much faith in life, wanting to take it in hand, and besides, you were right about one thing, Ms. Kennedy sounded so good in you. You kept turning the pages until you found an important date, once again a heart adorned the page, this time only with Leon's name.

25/04/1998

I'm on my way to Ilinois again, I know, I know, you'll say I'm crazy, that we're going too fast because we've actually only been on 2 dates, but Leon and I text to each other every day. He understands me, laughs at my witticisms and I love his dad jokes. It may be soon but I would love for it to be him. I had to lie to my parents that I would be staying with my Aunt Sarah for the next 10 days, actually I will be staying with Leon, don't judge me, Aunt Sarah was the one who insisted on covering for me. I am very excited, Leon will pick me up at the bus station and take me to a special place. I'll tell you later how it went.

12:45 am

He asked me to be his girlfriend! There were candles, roses, strawberries and stars. I couldn't ask for anything more. I think I am in love with him.

At that moment you didn't really know what it meant to be in love, it wasn't just the butterflies fluttering in your stomach, it wasn't just the happiness of having him close to you or the excitement you felt every time you kissed him. Love was something very complicated to understand, even more to explain. It was like an invisible force that attracted you to him, altering all your senses, making you addicted to that feeling, excited, but at the same time it managed to keep the other emotions at bay, you felt protected, comfortable, whole.

11/29/1998

We had a fight. Leon told me he had to report to his new job in Raccon City, today! Today of all days. He knew how important it was to me that he come to this party with me and he didn't care. Right now he must be on his way or whatever. Idiot

06/29/2001

Leon is working. It’s almost been a year since the last time we saw each other and I don't know how long I can go on enduring it. It is unfair that all this has happened, stupid pharmaceuticals and their greed. If it wasn't for them we would be together now living in an apartment in Raccon City. I feel bad, I miss him so much, I miss his kisses and his kind smile, but I can't tell him. The last time I saw him his expression had changed, his eyes didn't look friendly anymore, they turned cold, he looked calculating, as if he was waiting for something to happen. I can't judge him, he has been through a lot, only the gods know how he is still in one piece after the massacre he lived through. I'm happy he's still with me, but I keep wondering if he's still the same Leon I fell in love with.

The Raccon City incident had changed the jovial, awkward, fun-loving Leon into a distant, apathetic, dry one. He had confided in you all that had happened, or at least a little more than the government had allowed him to say. He had cried in your shoulder lamenting for those people he had been unable to save, trying to justify his every action as self-defense. You had listened to him, wiped away his tears, stroked his back as he let it all out. You had shown him that no matter what had happened you loved him unconditionally, you had even encouraged him to take the job offered to him by the U.S. government assuring him that you would wait for him and you did.

11/11/2004

He came back. Three days ago, as I opened the door to take out the garbage, Leon was there, with his travel bag in hand and a bandage covering half of his right shoulder. I know he said he would, but part of me didn't believe it. The state he's in, gods, you don't know how I regret encouraging him take this job. Sometimes he wakes up screaming babbling about “the plagues”, when that happens he reaches for my chest, lies on me and holds his ear close to my heart, he says it calms him. I'm just glad he's back home with me, I don't know how or how long it will take but I'll help him put all his pieces back together, I love him, I can't stand seeing him like this.

When he left for spain, the fear of not knowing anything about his where abouts for almost a month was unbearable, then one day he shows up on your door. Beaten, bruised, tired, haggard and thinner than the last time you saw him, but alive, yes a few cuts and his shoulder bandaged but he was there. You couldn't help but run into his arms, he catches you in the air, and then both fell to the grass as you filled his face with kisses. The following days you took care of him, his nightmares were recurrent but your touch always managed to bring him back to the real world. The necklace you had given him before he left, a locket with his favorite picture of you and the phrase “Love, always” engraved on it, always in place, just like you did with yours, a small reminder of the love between you two.

05/06/2006

I said yes.

I can't believe it really happened. Seven years ago I dreamed it as I watched him clean the tables and today that dream came true. I know we are not perfect, I know Leon's line of work will keep him away from me more than I would like to, but I can't imagine my life with anyone else. I chose him long before I knew what would happen and even if I did back then I would do it all over again.

Leon recreated our first date, rented a cabin in Georgia, brought a blanket, a basket with candles, wine, glasses and strawberries. We sat under the stars and when I least expected it he got down on one knee in front of me, told me that I was the woman of his dreams, that he couldn't live without me even if he tried, that I was the only good thing in his crappy world, that all he thought about when he fought those B.O.W's was that he was making the world a little safer for me and that it didn't matter how many zombies he had to take down as long as he came home to me.

Of course I said yes. No matter what, he's the one.

You closed the diary, hugging it tightly, trying to push those memories into your heart again. Yes, things had been difficult, complex, sometimes the cost had been high, the tears, the anger and the loneliness had been more constant than you wanted to admit, but you wouldn't change any of it because somehow, the little piece of heaven seeing Leon's smile every time he came home, his scent enveloping your senses as he took you in his arms, was enough.

The sound of the door opening brought you back to reality.

“Hey honey, what you doing?” Leon said, putting down the bags he was carrying in his hands and walking towards you “I see someone got distracted and forgot to unpack” he laughed kissing you.

“You've no idea” you smiled intertwining your hands behind his neck, kissing him once more.

[no2ticonderoga]

Still searching for a title... Part I, Part II, Part III

Leo found her before she could find Mr. D. Leo was a short, curly haired man who seemed to be perpetually covered in dust and grease. The theatre’s technical director, he could fix just about anything with chewing gum and shoe shine, it seemed. 

“Sorry about earlier,” he said. “I was up to my elbows in cables.”

“It’s fine,” Annabeth sighed. “I was just hoping to get to you before Mr. D caught me.”

“No kidding,” Leo snorted. “I only just avoided him by hiding in the lighting grid. What crawled up his ass and died there this time?” 

“Act two,” Annabeth replied.

“Madre di dios,” Leo muttered, followed by several other Spanish oaths. “Let me guess. Mr. D decided he wanted it to be ‘grandiose, and carry the audience away’?” Leo had an excellent impersonation.

“Yep,” Annabeth agreed.

Leo muttered more in Spanish and shook his head. “You got new designs?”

“If you mean the old designs that he rejected two weeks ago, then yes,” Annabeth held up her sketches. 

“Atta girl,” Leo grinned. “These the ones you already showed me?”

“Yep,” Annabeth agreed. 

“I’ll get my crews prepped,” he said. “Let me know which one he decides on.”

Annabeth nodded. “Have you seen him?”

Leo jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Last I saw him, he was headed for the lobby. He was complaining about something. Costumes, I think.”

“More delays?”

“Yeah,” Leo sighed. “You’d think the war was still on with rationing or something…nothing ever seems to come on time.” Leo gave a wave and headed off to talk to his stagehands.

Annabeth made her way through the backstage and out into the house, headed for the lobby. She had only gotten part way up the aisle, when she heard voices at the back of the house. One of them was Mr. D and he sounded…nervous?

She stopped and looked around. She spotted Mr. D standing in one of the doorways. He was standing with a man dressed in a black suit. He was very pale, with dark hair, and though he stood there holding his hat in his hands, there seemed to be something ominous about him. 

She couldn’t quite make out what the man was saying, but Mr. D was protesting about it, though not effectively. The man said something sharp, and Mr. D nodded meekly. Without another word, the man turned and left, leaving Mr. D standing there looking downcast. 

Annabeth hesitated a moment before approaching him. “Mr. D?” she asked.

“What, oh, hm?” he looked up, and Annabeth was suddenly struck by how hollow his eyes looked and how his who being seemed to be sagging. 

“I’ve got those other set drawings for you,” Annabeth said.

Life seemed to come back into him slowly, and he seemed to reinflate, like a balloon. “Ah, good,” he said, his voice returning to his normal pompousness. “Let me see.”

By the time  a new design had been selected, and Annabeth had helped Leo oversee the start of the modifications to the set, it was nearly dinner, and as Annabeth had skipped lunch, she was starving.

She went to find Piper. Annabeth figured she’d be in the rehearsal studio, and she was not wrong. The session was just breaking up, with chorus dancers streaming past her heading for dressing room. Inside the studio, she found Octavian,arguing with the show’s composer, Will, by the piano. But Piper was leaning against the wall, talking with Jason, who had one arm propped against the wall over Piper’s head. She was giving him come hither looks that probably would have melted steel. 

Annabeth normally wouldn’t have interrupted, but she was hungry. “Hi,” she said to Jason before turning to Piper. “Do you still want to get food, or are you…” she glanced between Piper and Jason. “Otherwise occupied?”

Piper laughed lightly, and pushed Jason away from her gently. “I’m all yours tonight, sweetie,” she said. “Jason will just have to wait his turn.” She gave him a wicked smile.

“I don’t mind,” Jason said. “I would hate to break up your dinner date.” He smiled brilliantly, and Annabeth was reminded again why everyone was in love with him. She felt no attraction to him, but even she had to admit he was objectively good looking. Even the scar on his face enhanced his good looks.

Annabeth sighed. “You’re welcome to tag along,” she said. “But I’m starving.”

“If you don’t mind,” he said.

“It’s fine,” Annabeth said. “As long as we go now.”

Piper laughed. “Let me go get changed. We’ll meet at the stage door in 10 minutes.”

They went their separate ways to get ready to go out. Annabeth went to wait by the stage door. While she was waiting, Mrs. Darrowby, the costumer, was getting ready to leave. “Goodnight, Mrs. Darrowby,” Annabeth said.

“I heard Mr. D was giving you a hard time today, dear,” Mrs. Darrowby said. 

Annabeth shrugged. “Nothing I can’t handle,” she replied.

Mrs. Darrowby gave her a sad grin. “Well, at least you were able to get something done.”

“What do you mean?” Annabeth asked, confused.

“My fabric for the chorus line costumes was supposed to arrive today, but it’s been delayed again. This is the third time,” she complained. “It’s like I’m never going to get these done. At this rate, the chorus girls will go on in their underwear!” 

“Well, that might boost ticket sales,” Annabeth joked.

Mrs. Darrowby snorted. “At this rate, we might need to do it anyway, just to keep the show afloat.” She shook her head. “Well, hopefully tomorrow,” she sighed. “Good night, dear.”

“Good night,” Annabeth called, as Mrs. Darrowby headed out the door.

Jason appeared. “Is Piper ready yet?”

“She’ll be here shortly,” Annabeth told him. “When she says 10 minutes, she really means 15,” Annabeth explained. Actually it was usually more like 20, but Annabeth hoped that Piper’s concern for getting food into her might actually move her a little faster.

“How long have you two known each other?” Jason asked.

“Since college,” Annabeth said. “The fall of ‘41.” 

“You’re pretty close, huh?” he asked.

Annabeth shrugged. “She’s the sister I never had.”

“So don’t break her heart?” Jason asked.

Annabeth laughed. “She’s far more likely to break yours,” Annabeth told him.

Jason looked like he was still trying to process this comment when Piper appeared. As always, her hair and makeup were perfect, despite her vigorous rehearsal session, and the dress she had on worked for her in all the right ways. Annabeth loved her, but when she was on the hunt, she always made Annabeth feel so plain and dowdy. 

Piper looped her arm through Jason’s. “Where shall we go?” she said. She grabbed Annabeth with her other arm. “Somewhere not busy for poor Annabeth, who skipped lunch, I think.”

“Yes, please,” Annabeth agreed. 

They ended up at a place close to the theatre district that did not look crowded and they were able to get a table right away. 

“You had a busy day, it seems,” Jason asked her when they were settled and the waitress had taken their orders. Piper and Annabeth shared one side of the booth, while Jason sat alone on the other. 

“You could say that,” Annabeth agreed. “Working with Mr. D is…an adventure.”

Piper laughed. “That’s one way to put it.”

“Have you worked with him before?” Jason asked.

“Several times,” Annabeth admitted. “One of the reasons Piper was able to get me the job to begin with was he knew who I was.” 

“This is my first time,” Jason said. “Are his shows always this…” he trailed off, considering his words.

“Chaotic?” Piper provided helpfully. She was running her finger around a water ring left behind by a previous diner’s drink. 

“Well,” Annabeth considered. “He’s always been mercurial,” she said. “But now that you mention it.” She paused, brows furrowing a little. 

Piper looked thoughtful, cocking her head. “It does seem like we’ve had more than our usual share of disasters. Maybe the show is cursed.”

Annabeth and Jason spoke at the same time. “Why would it be cursed?” 

“There’s no such thing as curses.”

Piper huffed, and glared at Annabeth. “You clearly haven’t been in show business long enough,” she said, and then turned to Jason. “I haven’t been paying too close attention, but I did hear some of the chorus girls talking about a curse. Maybe it’s the curse of Achilles.” She made the last part sound spooky and creepy.

“That’s…not how that works,”  Annabeth said. “Have you even read the myth?” 

Piper made a mou face and brushed this away with her hands. “You don’t think a doomed love story can have a curse?” 

“Well, even if it did, and I can’t believe I’m having this conversation, it wouldn’t be the curse of Achilles. He’s barely in the show, it’s about the Trojans, not the Greeks.” Annabeth shook her head.

“He’s in the show long enough to kill me,” Jason pointed out. “But that feels pretty cursed to me.”

“All I’m saying,” Piper said. “Is this is starting to feel like a Scottish play production, and I’ve been in one of those.”

“Scottish play? You mean MacBeth?” Annabeth asked.

“Stop that, stop it now! Here,” Piper thrust the salt shaker at her. “Over your shoulder, now! Go on.”

Annabeth fumbled with the shaker. “What? Piper…”

“Now.” The look she gave was not to be argued with. 

Annabeth sighed and shook some salt out and made to throw.

“Your left shoulder,” Piper corrected. Annabeth dutifully threw the salt. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Annabeth said.

“I should make you stand up, turn around three times, and spit,” Piper said. “But this will have to do for now, since we’re not in a theater.”

Jason just looked amused. 

“Do you believe this nonsense?” Annabeth asked him.

“Hey, I grew up in theatre, too, don’t forget. And if that wasn’t enough, the war would have definitely made me a believer.”

Annabeth…glare was probably too strong…glower might have been better. She found it harder to discount men’s experiences of the war than Piper’s ridiculous theater superstitions. 

“What kinds of beliefs did you have in the war?” Piper asked.

“You never talked about how many missions you had until your rotation ended,” Jason explained. “And lots of guys had specific routines about checking out their aircraft before take off, or they carried lucky charms and stuff. In my unit, we didn’t have an aircraft with the number 13 on it, it was painted up as 12B.”

“What kind of lucky charms?” Piper asked. 

“Oh, all sorts of things. St. Christopher medals were popular, rosaries of course. One guy had a silk scarf that his girlfriend made him from the parachute he used to bailout in training when his engine quit.” Jason was warming to his topic. “One guy had a pair of stockings that he got from…” he stopped abruptly and colored. “Uh, from someone he knew.” 

Annabeth felt her face heat a little, but she smiled weakly. Piper, on the other hand grinned broadly, and she leaned in toward him, batting her eyelashes. “Oh, really,” she said, as she leaned her chin on her fist and gave him a look. “What kind of someone, hmmm?” she arched an eyebrow at him.

Jason stuttered and jumped, and Annabeth was fairly certain Piper had just touched his leg with her foot. 

Annabeth cleared her throat. “Piper, you promised.”

Piper sat up. “Right, I’m sorry.” She gave Jason a saucy look. “We’ll take that up again later, hmm?”

Jason’s eyes were a bit wild, but he grinned back gamely. “Right.”

“So, did you have any lucky charms?” Piper asked.

“I always went up with this old Roman coin that my dad gave me,” Jason said, shrugging. “I’m here, so I guess it worked.”

“And that’s a good thing,” Piper declared. “See, Annabeth, superstitions aren’t bad.”

“That...correlation is not causation,” Annabeth protested, but their food arrived, and Piper wasn’t in a mood to listen. Jason gave her a sympathetic look. 

They ate, and Annabeth felt worlds better after they were finished. It was clear to Annabeth that Piper wanted to find a way to extend her evening with Jason, so she plead exhaustion (it wasn’t hard), and said she didn’t mind going home alone. “Are you sure?” Piper asked. “I had wanted to talk tonight.”

“I’m fine,” Annabeth told her. “There’s nothing that hasn’t already been said, you know that.” Piper spared a moment to give her a sympathetic look. “Go,” Annabeth told her. “Have fun. Don’t stay out too late.”

“Yes, mother,” Piper laughed. “Don’t worry,” she assured her more seriously. “We have rehearsal tomorrow. Tonight is not a night for sleepovers.” 

For all her playfulness, Piper was completely dedicated to her craft, so Annabeth wasn’t really worried. She bid farewell to both Piper and Jason and hailed a cab. When the cabbie had asked her where to, instead of her address, her mouth said. “The Battery.”

She felt foolish as the cab cruised downtown, and twice she almost told the cab driver to turn around. But she got out and paid her fare, and walked to the edge of the wharf, leaned on the rail and stared out at the Statue of Liberty in the harbor. She sighed.

Anger or sadness? Which would it be tonight? She wondered.

But oddly, she felt neither. 

She felt strange tonight, like the summer air was somehow charged with electricity. It was almost like the city was holding its breath. Maybe it was the election, or maybe it was the growing tension over Berlin. But something…

Annabeth felt a chill, despite the warm air, and rubbed her bare arms. 

She recognized at least part of what she was feeling. And she didn’t like it. She knew this feeling, and it scared her. It happened once or twice a year, despite her best efforts.

It was the tiniest, smallest sliver of her that didn’t believe that Percy was dead. Or that he had played her. It was the hope that he was still alive, still out there. And that maybe he would come back to her. 

She bit her lip, looking out at the statue, remembering the feeling of his arms around her. Wishing he was here right now. She thought about Piper, off with Jason, the easy way she could talk to anyone. How easy it had been with Percy. Why? She had no idea, but it had been as natural as breathing. She remembered telling him things after only a few hours that it had taken her almost a year before she told Piper. 

“I want him back,” she spoke out loud.

No one responded, of course, but Annabeth suddenly felt a frisson up her spine, like a small shock. She jumped, and looked around, but there was no one.

Sighing, and feeling very foolish, Annabeth walked back toward State Street. Hopefully she could find another cab to take her home. 

[beloveds-embrace]

I’m loving Duchess with a backbone!!!!! Please can we see her finally put John and Simon in place?

The air in the drawing room is frigid, despite the crackling fire in the hearth.

You sit near it, posture perfect, gloved hands folded in your lap, but the warmth does not touch you. Not truly. It is there only in flickering light, in the faint scent of burning wood, not in the hollow of your chest or the chill in your bones.

Across from you, John and Simon stand as if waiting for something- perhaps waiting for you to acknowledge them. You do not, because you know they have already heard.

Johnny and Kyle had been shaken when they told them, voices uneasy, recounting the moment you stood before them, spine unbending, and reminded them exactly who you were. You had let them stammer through their weak protests, had let them fumble with excuses and empty justifications before you struck them down with the simple, inarguable truth:

You are the Duchess of this house. You will be respected within it.

And now, here they are. John, your dear husband, with his arms crossed, jaw tight. Simon, standing just behind him, silent as ever. They are lords in their own right, men of power and presence. You cannot pull rank on them the way you did with Johnny and Kyle, but you do not need to.

Your silence is its own weapon, and today it is what you’ll be wielding.

John exhales sharply, shifting his weight as if he cannot bear the way you refuse to look at him. “I heard you had words with Johnny and Kyle.”

Still, you say nothing.

Simon watches you closely, the scrutiny of his gaze burning at the edges of your vision, but you do not grant him the satisfaction of meeting his eyes.

John sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “We need to talk, Duchess.”

“Do we?” Your voice is cold, distant, detached.

His brows draw together. “Indeed, we do.”

You finally look at him then, your face unreadable. “…And why is that?”

A flicker of something passes through his face; frustration, perhaps, but there is something else beneath it. Something brittle. He does not like this version of you, you are unsurprised to note. A version of you that no longer leans desperately toward him, that no longer reaches for the warmth he once withheld. No longer begs for a single ounce of affection.

Good.

Simon does not speak. He only observes, fingers curling against his sleeves as if holding himself back. His silence is different from yours, though. Yours is deliberate, a wall carefully built, reinforced, fortified against the damage they have done. His is wary, calculating, as if he is still trying to find the best way to approach something he does not quite understand.

“Duchess.” Simon’s voice is low, and unhappy. It rankles you that he thinks he can speak to you like this; John’s lover he may be, you are the Duchess of this house, and yet he fails to show you even a sliver of respect for it.

You lift a brow, tilting your head just slightly, like one might when observing something of mild interest. “Yes?”

He hesitates. You can see it- the way he wants to tread carefully, the way he senses the ice beneath him is thin.

John, less patient, sighs again. “Are you just going to pretend we’re not here, then?”

You inhale slowly, exhaling just as carefully. “I am not pretending anything, my lord.” The title is precise, distant.

It is the first time in your marriage you have called him that.

John flinches- flinches- just slightly. His lips part, but for once, he does not have the words.

Simon exhales through his nose. “We were wrong.”

It is a confession, but it does not move you.

“Indeed.”

Another silence, heavier now, and John steps forward slightly. “We should have-“

You stand abruptly, and it makes them pause. Smoothing down the fabric of your gown, adjusting it with delicate fingers, before you finally, finally look at them both directly.

“You will not placate me with words.” You do not raise your voice, but it cuts through the space between you like a blade. “You can’t. Not after everything. I don’t care for your empty apologies, and I don’t care to stay here and be disrespected any longer.”

John swallows hard. “We-“

You shake your head. “No, my lord.”

A simple command. A final word.

You step past them, your presence colder than the winter winds outside. You do not look back, and care not for however they might react or whatever expressions they may have.

[henneseyhoe]

All In A Day’s Work

Lewis Hamilton x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS:This Headcanon Is Nasty…I Mean Disgusting. Mean!Lewis(No seriously..he’s an asshole till like… the end lmfao), Mentor/Boss!Lewis, Dark!Lewis, Protege!Reader, Insults, Almost A Yandere!Lewis Undertone(I can’t help myself), Lewis Being A Perv, Cockwarming Orally, Spit, Power Imbalance, Dumbification(Kinda?), Pet Names (Baby, Doll, Princess, Slut), Age Gap Unspecified(21+), Public Sex (Kinda), Stalking (Mild), Dirty talk, Gagging, Brief Mention Of Anal, Reader Is Kinda Naive, Probs More Idk.

SUMMARY: They say never meet your idols..

✮✮✮✮

Mentor/Boss!lewis, who quite literally hated you.

He hated your work. He hated the way you worked. He hated your ideas. He hated the way you dressed too. How could you be in the fashion industry dressing like that, and who the hell did you think you were?

You, who looked up to him. You studied his style and cadence, he was your inspiration that kept you intrigued with art and fashion. There wasn’t a piece you have made that you didn’t imagine him praising you for, clapping from an audience of fellow famous designers as you win an award for pieces you made all by yourself. You dreamed so, so big.

Once a confident art school student who recently graduated turned a quiet, delicate thing in his presence. You needed to be that way. If you made yourself smaller, maybe he wouldn’t seek to bother you like he did daily.

It wasn’t just your liking for him and his work that made it hard to be around him, he made it his mission to make everything 10x more insufferable.

You didn’t even know why he hired you, really. There were rumors that he purposely never hired fans, stating that their inspiration from him would blind them from using their own creativity, and you made it very obvious in your interview that you were nothing short of star struck. But, the job was yours on the spot, approved and stamped by Lewis himself.

Your excitement coursed through your veins, hungry for the ideas and tips he’d give you along the way.

Sadly, you were paid just about what dust was worth. As soon as you began working It seemed you were just there to be his punching bag, something he could take his anger out on when someone, or you, most likely you, pissed him off.

Boss!Lewis, who purposely overworked you, making you type up drafts for his articles just as he came up with it in real time. You wanted desperately to make him proud, so you listened to each syllable of each word, each well calculated, evil, full of venom sentence that could end someone’s career that poured into your ears. You pay attention closely as you type, because he himself remembered everything he said, and if anything was out of place or missing from his rant, then he’d be more than pissed.

“This is all you heard? Have your ears somehow popped off your head and walked out of the building?…You wasted my time, and yours. Get out”

He’d say as he shoved the papers back into your hands, still warm from the printer. Did he even give time to actually check if they were right?

Your palms turned white with how hard you clutched the papers in your hands as you walked out, heels stabbing the marble floor with every step you took. He enjoyed seeing your display of emotion whenever he corrected you. This would toughen you up. Maybe even teach you to do things right next time.

Your ears felt hot with both embarrassment and frustration nearly every time he spoke to you. You thought working for your hero would be fun and empowering, but day by day you were proved wrong. How could someone so humble and kind on screen be so cruel to such a sweet girl like you? You were only trying..

Still, you tried harder to gain his respect by working more than you ever had, sewing till your fingers bled, drawing up new designs for him to see that you were getting better, bringing him sweet treats when you could to get even the smallest of thank yous, but again, he wasn’t too fond of your work, or you.

And god forbid you propose the possibility that maybe he was the one that was wrong, he made the mistake and you just made the mistake of following his every word and direction.

Leaning over his desk, you present to him the digital catalog for this year's spring, items of different kinds of clothing littering your computer screen as you click each one individually until he tells you to move on.

“Stop” Lewis points to a picture to halt your scrolling, your heart skipping a beat as you think, ‘Fuck…now what?’

He tsks.

“This suit is from last summer. I specifically told you last year seasons go into an archive, these are not average pieces people can just buy”

You squint, your eyes glazing the screen. “But I didn’t hear- You didn’t say that at all”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

He turned to you in his office chair and closed your laptop down, his head tilted in question. You couldn’t even look straight into his eyes to answer, it was like you saw all the souls he captured day to day screaming for mercy inside of them.

Before you could even fully get a word out he was already giving you your second warning that day.

“I suggest you watch the way you speak to me”

You did so, limiting your criticism to none. You desperately needed to keep this job, the clout, and the money from it. You knew your ideas were good, you just needed Lewis to see that. You needed a little boost, and Lewis was well aware that you couldn’t afford to lose anything you gained this year, seeing as it took you an entire one to find a company like this to take you seriously, having the honor to work as close as you do with one of Europe’s top designers. One day you hoped to be one just like him.

The company had many young workers, some directly hired by Lewis himself just like you, many with the same plans as you to become some big designer or director in the city. Some are not as hardworking as you, so you wondered why Lewis wasted time bullying you instead.

You complain to your coworkers often, thinking you’ve found some kind of friend, but are quickly corrected when you find out someone’s been snitching about what you’ve been saying about your boss around the office..

Lewis towered over you as you sat in a chair facing his desk, hands fiddling in your lap with your head hanging low in shame. This wasn’t the first time you’ve been embarrassed in this very office, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last.

“If you spent half as much time actually doing what I tell you to do instead of wasting your energy bad mouthing me around the building, maybe you wouldn’t have to be a fucking assistant anymore” He chuckled as he flipped through a catalog of unreleased designs while pacing the floor in front of you. The tapping of his shoes synced with the hard thump of your heart, every ‘clack’ leading a loud ‘lub-dub’ that you swore everyone in the room could hear.

Stopping in his tracks, he sighs and shakes his head, neat braids that framed his face swaying with the movement. He often faked his pity, you learned that early on. He cared none if you were struggling for whatever reason, in his head you either pull yourself up by your bootstraps or sit and suffer.

“If you can’t take the little shit I give you, then how do you expect to get anywhere in life, princess? Pretty faces can only get you so far, especially when you piss off important people before you even become somebody“

You keep your head down, careful to not make the mistake of shrugging at his question like the first time he had ever asked you anything you didn’t know the answer to.

“Wow..And you’re fired”

You look up from your sweating hands, your heart skipping beats when you realize he was talking to the woman behind you.

“What? Me? But-” Her stuttering clearly didn’t help her case as she tried to find the right excuses to keep her position as head director, which would eventually become vacant regardless. Lewis spared her a glare, but it was more of a warning for her to suck it up. He hated seeing people cry.

“No one likes a snitch”

You exited that room that day with a thankfulness not even gospel could pull from you. You kept your job and your spot next to him. Dignity and pride was in question, but at least you weren’t jobless.

The next week, you focused more on yourself. You wore your own designs, hoping to catch some kind of compliments, and you did! Just not from Lewis. It was already known that Lewis hated your style, but you could at least say it wasn’t as bad as his last assistant, whom he told you dressed like, and I quote, he “walked into the closet every morning with his eyes closed and his hands tied behind his back with only his mouth as an option to pick up the items to wear”...

You tried your best to dress to his liking and incorporate his style into your designs while also keeping your signatures. You spent your nights reading magazines he did interviews for to pick up on what he was feeling was in this year, but it wasn’t easy when he was so picky.

“Is that rose gold?”

“Where?.. On my watch?”

Lewis stayed silent, his eyes scanning you fully before he spoke again.

“No, on the floor” He said with sarcasm plaguing his voice, making you raise a brow.

“Take the jewelry off. It looks tarnished”

He nearly swooped you up just then to get something that actually matched your skin tone, but that’d be him just stealing company time for something more..personal.

Boss!Lewis, who soon got tired of your poor attempts at outfits and began to dress you in things he thought were good looking, giving you a box of expensive new outfits at the end of the work day, each labeled for which days you’d wear them. He even invited you over to his for a few “required” trials. Y’know, just to see how good the tailoring was.

And you were ecstatic about it. You, in YOUR idols house, getting adorned in expensive clothing you only dreamed about. It made up for everything he said to you that week to make you upset.

He took you into his very own study and told you what colors look best on you in each season of the year, gave you advice on what jewelry made you glow and the places you should put them depending on the cut of your clothes, he measured your waist, arms, legs, bust, everything, and told you what would go with your body type. Though you wished he could turn the heat up as he did so, you were starting to get a little cold in just your bra and underwear..

“Look at that…it fits you so much better than what you’re usually in”

He’d turn you to a mirror as you tried to lower the mini skirt you wore, attempting to cover more than just the cup of your ass. You could nearly feel a breeze every time he passed you by to get a look from different positions.

Apparently his favorite was from the back.

“You won’t be wearing anything I didn’t put you in from now on. Think of it like a work uniform, since you dress like the world outside is blind. Now, gimme a spin, doll”

Your new look caught the attention of other designers. Some loved the bold look, seeing it as a statement, like how fashion should be these days. They applaud you for testing out the boundaries and limits of a workplace. How professional could you be with your skirt riding up? Others were confused on why your style did an entire 180, and why they could see the valley of your breasts now.

Your answer was simple. Evolution is how the world stays afloat. If you don’t change in time and willingly, the world around you will force you to before you’re ready. Lewis told you that.

Boss!Lewis, who wished he did this so much sooner. His very own life size Barbie he could dress up and down any way he wanted. It was just an extra perk to being able to say anything to you and you still coming into work the next day.

You were beautiful before, he never denied that, all his insults were technically on your intelligence. Nonetheless, he believed he outdid himself with this idea, he could truly see your potential now. Everything you put on brought out your features so much more, it was almost dramatic, and you were starting to truly live up to the nickname he gave you. Now he wanted to know if you were just as flexible as any other doll..

Boss!Lewis, who couldn't get enough of looking at you. It was never an innocent attraction, it was never about wanting to help a protege, this was all for him and him only, the fashion industry be damned. He didn’t care about introducing you to a world of anything as soon as he got half of your clothes off.

The amount of times he was imagining fucking you in front of everybody should have been illegal. He even debated fucking you in his study when he invited you over, watching you drool dumbly with a tiny dress hanging halfway off of your waist. Your very own icon using you for what you were worth. He was already imagining things before, but the daydreams were starting to prohibit him from his duties of CEO.

He had to do something. Fucking his hand in the privacy of his office wasn’t gonna suffice forever.

Boss!Lewis, who went to bed at night thinking of you. Thinking of the ways he could bend you, how many times he could make you cum in one round. When he was with you he pondered on what kind of panties you were wearing. Were they black? Pink, maybe? Did they have a cute little bow on the front like they did when he dressed you? Were they lace and see through? So see through that he could bend you over his desk and spread your ass with his hands to see the pink peeking from behind your brown lips. God, he wanted you so fucking bad from the start.

Boss!Lewis, who started to become irrational. Wondering where you went after work, if you had anyone else to see. God knows what Lewis would do to him, or get done to him. He even followed you sometimes when he couldn’t take the wondering, you were absolutely oblivious to the Ferrari behind you at every stop.

Boss!Lewis, who didn’t need to see where your house was, you worked for him, so of course he had your address, but he needed to see what routes you took. How long would it take you to get there after he snuck into your bottom floor apartment and stole a pair of your underwear after snooping through your things, carefully placing them back where they belonged before snapping a picture or two. Money took him a long way as he bribed the security with a few bills to ensure he wouldn’t speak a word of his visit. Of course the dumb fuck agreed.

You notice your underwear going missing, but you pass it off as just misplacing them in all the other clothes that were being delivered from Lewis.

You also noticed how close Lewis was becoming, but that just made you giddy. Someone you still adored as an artist finally warming up to you.. And as a boss, he had to watch you for reasons, right?

From the time you got to work and clocked in from the time you left, he was watching from his office, glass windows so clear that you could see the condensation from his breath on it as he looked down upon his workers. When you left, his curtains were immediately pulled close.

“He’s just being a boss” “He’s always like that, right?” “Don’t think too much, this is your dream, You’ll ruin your chances with him” Your friends would say when you confided in them about the constant watching, but they didn’t understand that he wasn’t watching everyone, he was watching you. You weren’t sure you understood that he was just watching you either.

Time passed and now he didn’t just watch. He visibly followed. He touched. Brushing a singular finger up your bare arm as you worked aside him, the silver ring on his finger sent shivers straight up your spine and electricity to your core. That jump started a second heartbeat that wouldn’t settle till you walked away from him.

Boss!Lewis, who was unashamed, barely hiding the lingering stares or brushing.

“Sir?”

You’d dare to speak as he pressed himself up against your ass. It wasn’t firm, but just enough for you to feel him. Your hands were unable to move to continue writing up a list of fabrics he needed for later that week. You became aware of everything around you. The ticking of the clock on the wall was loud, the cold wood of his desk pressing on your forearms as you wrote was noticeable.

“Keep going”

He nudged with a hand on your hip as you let out a shaky breath. It was hard to work like this, you could barely believe it was happening where it was, with whom it was.

He thought you sucked at your job before, you could be no better now with him breathing down your neck, grabbing at your curves and using the excuse of just trying to feel the fabric of your clothes.

“Silk?” He asked, his hand growing dangerously close up your thighs from the rim of your dress.

Your breathing hitched, your hand hesitantly swiping his off of your thigh before you nod, trying to distract yourself from the intense staring by grabbing the nearest needle and thread, pretending to touch up a bralette in front of you that was basically already done.

Lewis smiles.

Boss!Lewis, who hadn’t gotten any better with distractions since testing his limits with you for months now. Watching you squirm, anticipating what was next was so much more satisfying than designing these days. But you? You had no room to slack.

He’d call you in his office just to watch you work, then complain about not getting enough done.

Just under your breath, you’d make smart comments to release yourself from some of the stress of the day, unable to hear his complaining for hours without a word for yourself like you used to. You didn’t say it to his face exactly, but he’d be near, his cursing prompting you to speak. You weren’t the girl you were a few months ago, the less he criticized you, the more you expressed yourself outwardly. You knew him, and he was all talk for the most part, you felt you deserved to say at least one thing even if only you knew what was said.

“Maybe if you did your job instead of looking up my skirt all day, damn perv…”

He heard you. He heard everything, remember?

“Perv?”

Perv? No, No, No. Lewis couldn’t let that slide. He wasn’t the one that was being weird, it was you. Sure, he made you dress a certain way, but it was your fault you looked like that. He was not. a fucking. pervert..Fuck.

Boss!Lewis, who made use of your mouth that had started to get smarter and bolder towards him the longer you worked for him. He kept you on your knees, under his desk with his dick stuffed in your mouth. Your jaw ached, and every time you made it known, he’d shove you down further, more spit trailing down your chin. He didn’t care if anyone knocked, or walked in. To them, it was none of their business, too scared to even mention the red bottoms slightly sticking from underneath the desk or the abrupt choking sound they’d hear in the middle of their conversation.

It just made Lewis even harder that they knew something was up. But no one was bold enough to speak up about it, scared they’d get blackballed from the industry they so desperately wanted to be in. If Lewis said they weren’t to be worked with ever…they won’t be.

After he allowed you to stand, your makeup had already smudged off, kisses trailing down his abs and a red print of your lips stained around the base of his dick so perfectly, that he took a picture of it when he went home that night and sent it to you straight from his own business number, his unbuttoned work shirt, abs and tattoos in shot and all.

You gasp when you opened it, your phone flying from your hand to the carpeted floor. You hadn’t even recovered from the events, and here he was reminding you that it definitely did happen.

‘This would be a great new tattoo, yeah? XX.

-Sir. L’

Boss!Lewis, who finally got the excuse he needed to do whatever he wanted to you. Why didn’t he just start spanking you from the beginning? Would have been easier than yelling at you, you probably would have let him so easily. All he had to tell you was it was a crucial part of discipline, of becoming your true artistic self. You would have been putty.

Boss!Lewis, who wanted to leave your panties soaked with his cum leaking out of you almost every late work night. So he did. You wouldn’t work overtime if you didn’t want that, obviously.

With every step you felt your lips glide together, making the mess so much worse. Your coworker asks why you’re walking weird the next morning, you say you sprained your ankle in your heels, but you’re fine. If they knew it was really all because your boss was creampie-ing you at nearly 2 in the morning, you’d be shamed out of the building. Climbing the ladder by sleeping with the CEO? How whorish of you.

Unfortunately, your little sessions with your beloved mentor weren’t making your days easier. How could you work properly with your panties soaked with your own arousal? Sloppy work made you upset, but so did unresolved cravings.

Boss!Lewis, who made you ride him while writing up notes as a punishment now. There was no excuse for mistakes. You had all the time you needed to double check.

“Spread your legs. Good girl. Keep going”

You complained with a whine and spread your legs further across his while continuing to bounce on him. Your thighs were burning like you had just done three sets of squats back to back, you were sweating, and the seat below you two was no dryer. Your handwriting was fucked, you couldn’t read a word back to yourself, but if you stopped, you didn’t know what he’d do next.

He caressed your back softly as you work your hips down on him, the clap of your ass against his pelvis bringing a smile to his face.

“Oh, baby…you better hope I can understand whatever’s on that paper”

Boss!Lewis, who gave you new strict rules on not talking to any male workers. It didn’t matter if they spoke to you first, you walked right by without a word, your eyes glancing upwards and spotting a familiar dark figure watching from your boss’s office.

You now had to cover up more, afraid anyone would see the hickeys that would magically appear on your neck whenever you’d leave Lewis’s office.

If the turtlenecks wasn’t a telling sign of what was going on, the sound of your voice coming out of the room sure would have been.

He began gagging you with your own thong, shoving it into your mouth as he slipped his fingers inside of you, his rings and tattoos coated with a thin layer of your cum. He licked up your neck, flicking his tongue over the darkening bruises as his fingers slid in knuckles deep.

“Be a good little slut and cum for me, okay? Can you do that for me, baby?”

You squealed into the cotton fabric in your mouth and threw your head back, your bangs falling out of your face as his fingers simultaneously pressed against your spot until your pussy was squirting like a fountain, wetting his rolled up sleeve.

That happened twice more. Eventually, he couldn’t shut you up with just a gag, but his fingers down your throat made the perfect replacement.

“You got the new designs all wet. I suggest you restart on these as soon as you get home, okay?”

12 hours wasn’t nearly enough time for you to get those sketches done, but you did it anyway, thanks to coffee and binge worthy shows.

You did so good, this was just another excuse for him to be able to finish inside you again, a hand wrapped around your throat to keep you still in the small office chair as he sung your praises about how much you were growing under his teachings.

He’d caress your face sweetly before sliding his thumb into your mouth, watching you suck on command. He loved the way you did as you were told without question.

“My pretty baby. You take it so well”

So proud you didn’t even need prepping from his fingers this time, your pussy greedily swallowed his dick and allowed him to fuck the way he wanted to. Feverishly. Every touch from him so fucking needy that he could just bite you. Your ass would be next, the size of him deliciously stretching you out with the help of your own slick and his spit as lubricant.

Maybe this little exchange was making you better as an artist. It seemed so. The insults were coming less and less, your designs were getting accepted more and more.

Boss!Lewis, who took you out to celebrate your growth, gifting you a ring with a tiny L carved on the inside of it and red bottom shoes that would stun the office. He treated you with the utmost respect with the paparazzi watching, making sure the image was nothing more than him going out to eat with one of his protégés innocently tagging along. Then, he took you back to his place and fucked you like a slut.

Your mouth was left open so wide you were convinced it would eventually lock in place like that. He didn’t even let you make it to the bed, the floor and your arched back was all he needed to get as deep as he wanted inside of you. You could scream all you wanted there. You were sure his maids got the hint to stay away from the foyer by now.

After he finished using you how he wanted, stuffing you full with his cum until he was perfectly satisfied, he’d kiss you on your forehead as if nothing had happened and you’d thank him. For tonight, and all your opportunities.

“I think someone deserves a promotion now”

Finally, you were where you needed to be.

✮✮✮✮

💌— I really hope yall liked this cause I cannot get Boss!Lewis off of my fucking mind 😭 I need him so bad yall like I literally had to FORCE myself to stop writing more smut in this 💔💔💔💔

[lvmoure]

Petty, Pretty Arguments CS55

Pairings: Carlos Sainz x long-termgirlfriend!reader

Summary: In which he lets an argument pass a day

Warnings: arguments

The evening air was thick, a sense of tension that had simmered all day was finally breaking loose in Carlos' living room. Usually, this was your safe haven—where late-night talks, laughter, and gentle touches spoke louder than words. But tonight, the warmth was gone, replaced by a biting chill.

Carlos sat across from you, arms folded, his gaze hard and distant. This wasn’t the Carlos who had held your hand through your darkest days or whispered promises under starlit skies. No, this was a man barricaded behind walls, with his eyes fixed firmly on a point behind you, as if he could barely stand the sight of you.

“You’re doing it again,” he said, voice low but laced with a steely edge. The words struck like a slap, unexpected and stinging.

“Doing what, Carlos?” you asked, forcing your voice to stay calm, though it wavered at the edges. “Caring? Checking in on you? Wanting to spend time with you?”

“You call it caring. I call it clingy,” he shot back, his words sharper than you’d ever heard them. You flinched, hurt pooling in your chest. He’d never spoken to you like this before.

“Clingy?” you repeated, barely able to recognize the word in your own mouth. “Since when is it clingy to want to be with the person you love?”

Carlos rubbed a hand over his face, a frustrated sigh escaping him. “It’s like... like you don’t trust me to be alone for five minutes without you,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Every time I turn around, you’re there. Every phone call, every minute I’m out of your sight—you act like it’s a crisis.”

“That’s not true!” you protested, feeling your voice tremble. You fought to keep control, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you unravel. “I trust you, Carlos. But you’ve been so... distant lately. You hardly talk to me anymore. I’m just trying to understand what’s going on with you.”

“Maybe I just need space,” he replied coldly, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Did you ever think of that?”

Space. The word echoed in your mind like a warning bell, and a sinking feeling began to settle in your stomach. After thirteen years together, it was as if he were drawing a line between you that you couldn’t cross.

“I’m sorry,” you said, barely able to get the words out. “I didn’t know... I didn’t know you felt that way. But you could’ve told me. I would’ve given you space if you’d just asked.”

He shook his head, looking down at his hands as if the conversation were already over. “I did ask, but you didn’t listen. And I can’t keep doing this. I can’t have you hovering over me every second.”

The words hit like a punch, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. Hovering? After everything you’d been through together, he thought of you as some burden, an annoyance he couldn’t shake off.

“So... what are you saying?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Carlos looked up, and for the first time, you saw something hard and unyielding in his eyes. “I’m saying... if you can’t stop, if you can’t give me what I need, maybe this won’t work anymore.”

You stared at him, feeling like the ground had fallen out from under you. Thirteen years. Thirteen years of love, of memories, of promises. And he was willing to throw it all away—because you cared too much?

“Is that really what you want?” you asked, your voice breaking. “To just... walk away?”

Carlos’ gaze softened, but only for a moment. “I don’t know,” he replied, and the uncertainty in his voice cut deeper than anything he’d said before. “But I know I can’t keep doing this.”

You felt tears sting at your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “Fine,” you said, your voice hollow. “If that’s how you feel... I’ll leave you alone.”

Without another word, you turned and walked out, each step feeling like a thousand knives driving into your heart. But you wouldn’t let him see you cry. Not tonight.

The next day was a blur of silence. You barely slept, the memory of Carlos’ words echoing in your mind until they felt like they’d left scars. By morning, a cold resolve had settled in you—you wouldn’t let him hurt you again. If he wanted space, you’d give him all the space he wanted.

The phone buzzed with messages from Carlos, but you ignored them. Your heart pounded each time you saw his name flash on the screen, but you refused to give in. You went about your day with mechanical precision, avoiding every thought of him, blocking out the ache that tugged at you with every passing hour.

By evening, you were back in your apartment, exhaustion seeping into your bones. You’d managed to avoid Carlos all day, but a part of you felt hollow, like you’d lost a piece of yourself somewhere along the way.

A knock at the door broke through the silence, and your heart leapt, knowing who it would be. You didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to face the coldness in his eyes again, but something inside you couldn’t resist.

When you opened the door, Carlos was standing there, looking more tired than you’d ever seen him. There was a desperation in his eyes, a vulnerability that took you off guard. He reached for you, but you stepped back, crossing your arms tightly over your chest.

“Are you here for more space?” you asked, your tone sharper than you intended. Carlos flinched, and guilt pricked at you, but you forced yourself to stay firm.

“I’m here because... I made a mistake,” he said, his voice low. “I didn’t mean what I said last night.”

“Oh, really?” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “Because it sounded pretty clear to me.”

Carlos ran a hand through his hair, looking down at the ground. “I know. And I don’t blame you for being angry. But please... can we talk?”

You hesitated, the ache in your chest warring with the anger still simmering beneath the surface. Finally, you stepped aside, letting him in.

Carlos sat on the edge of the couch, looking more unsure of himself than you’d ever seen him. The silence stretched between you, heavy and uncomfortable, until finally, he broke it.

“I was wrong,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I pushed you away because... I was scared. Scared of how much you mean to me, of how much I need you. And I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

You stared at him, your mind reeling. This was a side of Carlos you’d never seen before, a side he’d kept hidden for all these years.

“So... what? You thought hurting me was the answer?” you asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of your voice.

Carlos shook his head, looking up at you with regret in his eyes. “No. I didn’t think. I just... acted. And I hate myself for it. But please... give me a chance to make it right.”

Carlos didn’t leave that night. Instead, he stayed by your side, refusing to let you out of his sight. He was gentle, attentive, the opposite of the man who had stood cold and distant just twenty-four hours before. And slowly, you began to feel the walls around your heart start to crumble.

The next day, Carlos took you out, determined to make it up to you in every way he could. He led you to a secluded beach, a place he’d found on one of his training runs, where the world felt miles away. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the water, and Carlos pulled you into his arms, holding you close.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “For everything. I know I hurt you, and I’ll never forgive myself for it. But please... don’t give up on me. I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust again.”

You looked up at him, searching his face for any trace of insincerity. But all you saw was a man who was willing to fight for you, who was ready to tear down his own walls if it meant keeping you by his side.

“I don’t want to lose you, Carlos,” you said softly, your voice barely a whisper. “But I need you to promise... promise that you’ll never treat me like that again. I can’t go through this again.”

Carlos nodded, his grip on you tightening as if he were afraid you’d slip away. “I promise,” he said, his voice steady. “I’ll never hurt you like that again. I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you know how much you mean to me.”

And as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, you felt the last remnants of doubt fade away, replaced by the quiet certainty that no matter what lay ahead, he would be there—holding you, fighting for you, and loving you with everything he had.

[sixstepsaway]

so here's the thing

i've seen a bunch of people say on twitter and stuff how... ed's behavior is very abusive and his anger is dangerous and he isn't romantic lead material because of it

and i get where they're coming from

but to me the main issue isn't putting ed in the position of a romantic lead, but not crafting the narrative around his characterization so that it allows for a spicy romantic pirates-in-love narrative instead of...whatever this is.

i'm going to try and explain this. idk if i'll do well but i'll try

the way she show presents stede is as an innocent baby who isn't really equipped for pirate life. he goes into a fugue/disassociative state whenever there's any real violence, apparently, and needs protecting by other characters when things get too rough - for example when ed is telling ned lowe not to take the poker to stede.

that's fine! it's honestly adorable to see a masc character being so soft around the edges and being protected by other characters this way.

(i'm not going to touch on stede's... eh... not great characterization this season rn)

then there's izzy, who is shown as a bit violent, a bit rough around the edges. he's more likely to draw a sword or throw a punch or hit someone with a chair or take a punch like a champ. violence is just part of life for him and that's okay, it just Is, from small things like smacking stede on the ass to bigger things like being wall slammed, it's not all that big or bad for violence to happen around and with him, he tends to give as good as he gets (there's some nuance here but i'm talking the macro themes not the micro of what izzy does vs is done to him)

and finally there's ed

ed is presented as violent (stabbing knives at guys, telling fang to use the snail fork etc) and used to a life of violence, and then in season 2 he's presented as really violent, his anger coming out in dangerous and terrifying ways

and frankly, i'd be super into it if he and izzy were the main ship and that twisted dynamic from the first two episodes of s2 was explored and fleshed out into something deeper

friends to enemies to lovers who fight and fuck. angry pirates who lay hands on each other, who break the whole ship with each other in the heat of passion.

except instead, s2 gives us... abuse. it gives us izzy cringing and lowering his head and trying to protect the kids crew from ed's angry outbursts.

so when stede comes back and he's still soft around the edges and ed headbutts him and it's deliberate, it's... not a great look, and the vibes are a bit skewed

if stede fought back, if when ed struck out at him he struck back, if they fought rather than it being one-sided, if it was friends to enemies to lovers and not presented as healthy, but maybe they can work their way there, who knows, maybe even more like anne bonnie and mary read because hey, they were doing something very similar?

except they were both into it. they were both enjoying the fighting and the fucking and the burning down the house.

stede's not enjoying it.

i cannot describe how much i hate this sequence just because of the way stede flinches

anne and mary don't!! mary jumps at the unexpected bang but she doesnt flinch, she doesn't cover her face like she thinks the vase will be coming for her not the wall and anne? looks so into it

and the thing is that in real life, no, you don't want to date someone who throws shit around, or headbutts you

but in fiction when it's two fucked up people doing this shit together like anne and mary?

that can be fun.

but instead what we've been given is stede flinching and apologizing to ed and then all of ed's...what, semi-redemption???? is done away from the other collection of people he abused, and then he spends some time on a fishing boat wearing a dog collar and everything is fine because he's good now and won't be doing anything bad ever again

and it's just... poor writing. the vibes are rancid.

i spent a really big chunk of time between s1 and s2 defending ed. i kept saying how what he did to izzy by making him eat his toe wasn't abuse, it was a one-off and abuse isn't a one-off thing it's a pattern, and then s2 made it a pattern.

explicitly. explicitly a pattern.

not just one toe but three.

jim saying "you're in an unhealthy relationship with blackbeard"

and all ed offered izzy was a "sorry about your leg" which might've been fine if izzy survived and they could work on this more, but instead that's all the apology and closure izzy will ever get

ed threw a chair and a vase and made stede flinch in fear and stede was right to do that. what part of any of this implies this will never happen again? that stede won't press the wrong button at some point and be on the receiving end? none of it

and if we'd been presented with a s2 stede bonnet who could handle himself and stand up for himself and fight back, then maybe i could imagine that turning into a weird sexy fucked up anne/mary like thing and maybe that could be why they put that episode in, but instead it feels like that episode was going, "look, see, ed's violence is fine because these two are fine with it with each other"

but stede isn't

ed and izzy or ed and stede in an unhealthy battle of a relationship could be such a fun, interesting and downright sexy thing to watch unfold on tv, and could honestly end somewhere far more down the chill end of the spectrum, but that's not what we've been given here

i cannot argue that ed isn't an abuser anymore, and not just of izzy but of the whole crew. he terrified frenchie.

it's not good writing to try and lean into the idea that ed and the pirates are violent and live a life of violence, so it's okay that ed's been violent, while simultaneously presenting his violence as traumatic and abusive, and then less than three episodes later saying oh it's fine now, he's just a little meow meow who can do no wrong, see?

especially considering they had him murdering people at the end of the season. and sure, you can say the english are just cannon fodder and they dont 'count', but they did before. ed explicitly did not kill before, and that included the english, or the spanish, or anyone else. so either they count or they don't, but flipping him on a dime makes no sense.

ALSO

having ed be the son of an abusive man who threw plates at his mother and made her cringe and then having ed kill his father to protect his mother and then a season later having ed become the kind of man who throws chairs and vases and makes his love interest cringe is, again, not bloody optimal

i want to say again i dont CARE about tv always presenting healthy relationships or tv always giving us aspirational goals. i want messy fucked up dynamics and terrible people making terrible choices, and still, to this day, i fucking love ed teach. i would honestly love to have seen them continue with ed's darkness and bring stede into it and see where they went with that, to have stede kill ned lowe and not just bury his feelings in ed but get off on it, enjoy the violence, and see where that led, but no

and so instead all we end up with is a protagonist who is being set up for a lifetime of abuse from an intimate partner, and a romantic lead who abuses his love interests (and yes. izzy is a love interest, he is set up like one and positioned like one and treated like one), frightens his love interests with his violence, is erratic and most of all inconsistently written. he was so sorry about scaring fang as though he hadn't been deliberately terrifying the whole crew for fuck knows how long? what?!

the whole fandom has spent so long saying, "no no, i know stede bonnet irl was a slave owner, but ofmd is using the names and not any real piracy, it's more disney piracy, you know? so that kind of stuff doesnt exist!" and then they flipped around and went "blackbeard is blackbeard and so he is evil and does all these horrible things" and i dont know how to rationalize the two sides of that because it feels so out of place

i'm getting rambly, this isnt a particularly well constructed thought process, i just feel like we were robbed both of a toxic, violent relationship that could be fun to see explored on tv and a soft and sweet love story between two middle aged men exploring their first loves in one fell swoop and there's no way for s3 to bring either of those things back because they got utterly torpedoed by making ed a horrible person

ugh

[addisonnie]

Baptize in Your Thighs

summary: Ellie doesn’t go to church. But when she does, it’s for the preacher’s daughter.

warnings: swearing, SMUT, fingering, oral, daddy kink (SORRY,) lowkey mean!ellie, dom/sub, religious mentions, talks of god, slight mentions of homophobia but hardly, let me know if I missed anything ALSO not proofread per usual sorry can’t be bothered!

an: surprise you dirty little dogs. im also a dirty little dog because what the FUCK is this. what did i just do? anyways time to do my homework now! enjoy you filthy little sluts

—————

Ellie doesn’t particularly believe in God. She doesn’t read the Bible, she doesn’t pray, and she certainly doesn’t go to church.

Yet, here she is.

The stained glass windows cast a rainbow haze over her skin, the freckles dotting her face twinkle under the glow. People slowly begin to fill in the pews surrounding her and she plays with the mini Bible placed in the wooden pocket of the seat in front of her. She looks out of place, feels out of place. People like her are usually struck by lightning the second they walk through those goddamn wooden doors— probably not the best time to use the Lord’s name in vain.

She’s gay, she’s grumpy, she’s occasionally mean. So, why is she here?

You. The preacher’s sweeter-than-a-peach daughter. Your smile is contagious, your laugh is precious, and Jesus Christ—again, not the best time— you have got to be one of the most alluring girls Ellie has ever seen. A floral dress hugs your waist beautifully and stops right above the middle of your supple thighs, tan pantyhose run up your legs and Ellie coughs into her hand when she accidentally makes eye contact with you.

You smile, of course you do. It’s nothing more than a formality your family forced upon you to keep raking in more church-goers—because who wants to attend a church run by an asshole family. Ellie smiles back before looking at her hands splayed across her thighs. She notices the click-clack of your kitten heels as you approach her pew, refusing to look up, she plays with the rip in her jeans.

“Is someone sitting here? With you.” Your saccharine voice floats through Ellie’s ears and wraps around her eardrum like a vice.

“No, go ahead.” She nods toward the open space next to her and you smile before sitting down and sliding closer to her. Your small hands smooth over your dress before you turn to face her, “I haven’t seen you here before. Are you a new member?”

Ellie has to hold back an eye roll—‘member?’ What is this? A cult?

“Just decided to finally come today. I usually don’t like getting up early on my days off.” You laugh and smile brightly at her, “I’m the same way. My daddy has to practically kick my door down to get me awake Sunday mornings.”

You’ve got a sweet little southern accent and Ellie feels herself growing aroused at the innocent aura weaved in every word you speak. She wonders if you’ve ever been aroused like this before.

Ellie notices you’re about to speak again before your father walks up onto the stage and begins his sermon. Immediately, your attention is brought to him and she sighs at the loss. The pastor is droning on about sinners and that those who are lost in the darkness should look for the light, Christ.

She doesn’t care. Ellie is much more focused on the fact that your dress has ridden much farther up your thighs due to the fact that you’ve crossed your legs. Her eyes trail up and down your pantyhose-covered legs and she shivers, drawing your attention back to her.

“Are you alright?”

Ellie’s eyes dart to your face, “just feeling overwhelmed, is all.”

You nod before pursing your lips and squinting, Ellie panics for a moment, thinking you’ve seen straight through her.

“Come with me.” You stand up in the pew and reach your hand out for Ellie to grab, quickly dragging her through the row and to the front doors of the church.

Your mother stands there, hands on her hips.

“Now, just where do you think you’re going? Your father is not going to be pleased that you’re skipping his sermon.” A whine escapes your lips and you tug on Ellie’s hand.

“Mama, this is Ellie. She’s feeling a little overwhelmed. I think the Holy Ghost is reaching out to her! I’m gonna take her to the house and let her have one of our spare bibles. You’re the one always saying we should help those that are lost!”

Your mother curtly nods at you before turning to face Ellie, “well, Miss. Ellie. You’re in good hands! I hope my daughter helps you work through your feelings. It’ll only lead to a healthier relationship with Christ.”

Ellie smiles and thanks her, in her head she’s rolling her eyes and telling your mom to fuck off. If anything, you’re the one in good hands. Ellie wants nothing more than to coax another whine from your plump, glossy lips.

Your hand is grasped in Ellie’s while you drag her across the dirt-filled church parking lot and into an old Victorian style home about a yard away from the side of the church. A couple cats sunbathe on the front porch and you happily greet them as you drag Ellie up the stairs and into your house.

It smells really nice. It’s creepy as fuck, though. The only thing she can really focus on are the abundance of crosses littering the walls. Who needs that many crosses? Do you beat intruders with them? Do they keep the demons away? Ellie shudders when she realizes that she’s probably the very thing they want casted out of her house.

“We can head up to my room, I’ve got a couple bibles there. You can have one, if you’d like!” There’s that sweet little voice again.

You pull her up the stairs and quickly lead her to your room. It’s exactly what Ellie expected. Pink toile wallpaper, a precious white bed frame, and a fluffy white comforter topped with way too many decorative pillows. A Bible lay open atop your bed, colorful markings and annotations scatter across the pages.

“Sorry! S’a bit of a mess, I don’t usually have people in my room. Mama and daddy don’t like it.”

Your mom and dad won’t like what Ellie is thinking about doing, either.

The two of you sit criss-cross on the bed and your nimble fingers quickly reach out to grasp at your Bible, “so, today my daddy’s sermon was meant to be about temptation. We can start there.”

How ironic. Temptation.

“How do you keep from giving into it? Temptation, that is?” Ellie leans in to be closer to your body, you look at her with wide eyes.

“I just—I usually just pray.”

Ellie smirks, “yeah? Does that make it go away?”

You push a stray strand of hair behind your ear and frown slightly, confused.

“Make what go away?”

God, you look so innocent like this. Big doe eyes staring up into Ellie’s, your legs crossed out in front of you. It’s sinful.

“Those butterflies you get in your tummy. The ones that make you feel funny.” She’s trying to dance around the topic of general horniness rather than just straight up asking if you touch yourself. Speaking to you about this is difficult, you’re a butterfly on a stray flower, and if Ellie jumps in too quickly, she’ll startle you and run you off.

“I—I don’t know what you mean.” You’re wiggling under her intense stare and a soft blush begins to bloom over the apples of your cheeks.

“Sweetheart, I think you do. Tell me what you do when you get that feeling.” Ellie leans in much closer to you, her minty breath fans over your face and she doesn’t miss the part when you clench your soft thighs together.

“Hebrews 13:4.” Ellie scoffs and swats at your knee, “that’s not what I’m asking you.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and huff out a breath, “Ellie. I’m trying to help you here. You wanna know what I do? I read the Bible and pray that God will rid me of those sinful feelings.”

And then Ellie is leaning closer, both her hands resting on your thighs, “are you going to pray right now? Ask God to get rid of that wet feeling in your panties? Ask him to smite me where I stand, hm?”

A bright red blush spans across your cheeks and you can’t bear to look at Ellie. She tuts, “look at me, angel.”

It’s ironic that she’s calling you angel when you feel like the complete opposite. The feeling of your cotton panties sliding against your sticky folds is enough to make you feel like the spawn of Satan himself. And to feel this way about a woman? You don’t even want to think about the repercussions of that.

“I touch myself. At night—after they’re asleep.” Ellie grins and squeezes your flesh between her fingers, “you’re a bad girl. What else do you do?”

A whine escapes your lips while you shove at Ellie’s calloused hands, “I can’t.”

Her face drops and she moves a hand up to squeeze your jaw in between her fingers, “you can. Tell me—better yet, why don’t you show me, angel?”

A gasp slides out of your mouth and your eyebrows shoot to your hairline, “I—what! No! Ellie, I can’t do that. I won’t.”

Her unoccupied hand slowly trails toward the hem of your dress, “I thought you were supposed to be a good girl? Sweet little pastor’s daughter can’t follow simple instructions?”

You whimper, “M’a good girl.”

“Then act like one.”

Her hand releases your jaw and she smirks when she watches you inch backward on your bed until you’re resting against the headboard. Your legs are crossed in front of you and Ellie gives you a moment to uncross them before she grabs your ankles to spread your legs.

“Go on, then.”

Your fingers slowly raise the hem of your dress until it pools around your tummy and Ellie sucks in a breath when she sees your flowery pink panties underneath your pantyhose. One hand travels underneath the elastic of your underwear and a soft whimper leaves your parted lips when the pad of your fingertip ghosts over your clit.

Ellie can’t see your pussy through your undergarments but she can clearly make out the little wet spot growing between your legs. She watches while your finger swirls in a circular motion under your panties and feels her own growing damper when you let out a soft moan.

“More, sweet girl. I know you can.” Ellie is leaning back on her hands while she watches your hand speed up, you choke out a pathetic whine while looking at her, “can’t, Ellie!”

A deep frown settles across Ellie’s face after your outward denial, “fucking pathetic. Do I have to do it for you? Hm? Is that what you want?”

Your hand slides out from under your panties and you shimmy down on the bed and spread your legs to be bent on either side of her body.

“Does your daddy know how much of a filthy little slut you are?” She’s crawling up the bed until she’s sitting on her knees in front of you, one arm on either side of your head. You whimper and jut your hips out toward her.

A simple phrase passes through her lips, one that has you sucking in a breath and squeezing your eyes shut, “beg.”

“Please.” It’s a pathetic attempt at begging, but you were raised to always be polite, at least you said please.

She leans forward on her hands and quickly moves one of her legs forward to shove straight into your core, grinding roughly onto your puffy clit.

You let out a soft moan and clutch onto her bicep, “I said fucking beg. I wanna hear you pray for me like the good little church girl you are.”

She surges forward and immediately presses her lips onto yours in a messy kiss. Her lips are soft yet chapped, a clear juxtaposition to the supple, cherry-flavored skin of your pouty lips. Ellie doesn’t even give you a chance to deny her tongue before she’s prying your mouth open with her lips, immediately sliding the wet muscle into your awaiting mouth. The harshness of her jeans continually ruts into your clit and she doesn’t plan on giving you any more until she hears that prayer fall from your lips. Fingers are digging into her biceps and she has half a mind to complain when you finally pull back, “please touch me. Please, please. I’ll be a good girl—fuck. Please.”

Hearing the naughty word slip from your sweet lips has Ellie chuckling, “atta girl.”

She immediately sits back on her knees before running her hands up and down your spread thighs, the wet spot on your panties only growing more prominent. Her fingers reach your core and you whimper for the thousandth time, she bunches the material of your pantyhose and rips the fabric apart at the seam, leaving an open hole directly to your underwear.

“Ellie!” She grunts and gives you a sour look before attaching her lips to yours again. Sloppy, wet sounds fill your ears while Ellie kisses you, spit is trailing down your chin and onto the valley of your breasts as Ellie fumbles with the soft material of your panties.

Sliding them to the side, she runs the pad of her pointer finger along your cunt, eliciting a gasp from you. Her finger dances over your folds and circles around your clit a few times before she trails back down to your hole, slowly pressing a finger inside.

“Oh—fuck! Ellie, please.”

She moves to kiss down the column of your throat while she slowly pulls her finger out, pushing it back in again.

“Better than your tiny fingers, hm, baby?” You nod and move a hand down to tug at her wrist, “more.”

Ellie moves her head away from your neck and scowls, “where have your manners gone?”

Tears are beginning to fill your doe eyes and for a minute Ellie feels bad for having such an attitude with you, but not bad enough to stop.

“Please. I want more of you.” That’s enough for her it seems, she slides her second finger in knuckle deep moans at the feeling of you digging your nails into her toned arms.

Her fingers quickly move in and out of your pussy, scissoring and twisting inside of you. You’re moaning, but quietly; Ellie doesn’t like that.

“Let me fucking hear you, sweet girl. Don’t be shy.” She speeds up the movement of her fingers and soon slides in a third finger, twisting her wrist around to hit you at a different angle. Her other arm moves to lift your leg onto her shoulder and the new angle has you releasing a borderline pornographic moan. It’s loud, and for a second you’re worried the church across the driveway heard it.

Her thumb repositions to quickly swipe over and circle at your clit. Your toes curl over Ellie’s shoulder and she listens to you squeak and cry out from under her. Teeth sink into your calf resting upon her shoulder and another loud moan slides from your parted lips when you feel Ellie harshly bite down on the skin and slide her tongue across the indention.

She feels you clenching religiously around her fingers and watches in awe as your wetness seeps into the palm of her hand and puddles on your pristine comforter.

“Close, baby?”

You whine in response and Ellie quickly halts her motions and slides her fingers out, “too bad.”

Your soft eyes full with tears and you slam your head backwards onto the pillow behind you, “fuck! Just—please, Ellie! Please please please—“

A harsh slap onto your pussy sends your hips jolting upward and your head flying forward. You whimper from the pain “m’sorry.”

“Rule number one. You only cum when I say you can. Got it, slut?” She delivers another harsh slap onto your clit and you arch your back in an attempt to be closer to her, “yes.”

She tuts, “yes, what?”

A confused look crosses your sweet face and you whine, shuffling your hips downward in hopes of some form of contact, “yes, Ellie?”

Another slap to your cunt, “ah—fuck! Yes! Yes, daddy!”

She smirks before lifting your other leg to rest on her shoulder, moving down on the bed until her face is settled in between your thighs.

“What are you doing?” You sound genuinely confused, which only confuses Ellie. Certainly you know what head is, right?

“M’gonna eat this pretty little pussy, baby. You want that?” She can practically hear you gulp. Your head nods and both of your hands slide to rest on top of her head.

Ellie leans in to pull your panties further to the side, pressing a chaste kiss right onto your clit, “oh my—“ you cut yourself off before you can say His name.

She smirks, “say it.”

And then she’s licking a long stripe up the expanse of your cunt, only stopping to suckle at your clit. Her tongue darts around in several circles before she finally fully takes your clit into her mouth and sucks harshly, “oh my God!”

She smirks into your pussy before moving her hand back up to slide knuckle-deep into your cunt again. Her long fingers piston in and out of your slick core while she hums and sucks on your clit. Fingers are digging into her scalp and yanking at her hair, your heels are digging into her back, and ear-shattering moans are diving out of your mouth.

Ellie does believe in God, because this, this is heaven.

She feels you constricting so hard around her fingers that it’s starting to get difficult to continually fuck in and out of you, her bicep is burning from the amount of effort she’s putting into getting you there.

“Daddy—fuck, please. M’so close. Please please please.” You’re babbling at this point, and Ellie is pretty sure you’ve literally never came before because she didn’t even edge you for that long and you’ve already got tears streaming down your round cheeks and onto your neck.

She moans onto your clit before slightly pulling away, “good girl, you can come.”

That’s all it takes, the vibration of Ellie’s words send shockwaves through your clit and immediately you’re seeing stars, clenching down onto Ellie’s fingers like a vice. She fucks you through it, she doesn’t stop, either.

Her mouth continues to suck on your clit long after you’ve come, and her fingers are still buried to the hilt inside of you.

“Oh! Please—please, can’t do more.”

Her teeth graze over your puffy clit, “yes you fucking can, roll over.”

She pulls away just long enough for you to roll over onto your tummy, “face down. Gonna have you on your knees praying for me to stop.”

Your face is mashed into the pillows and Ellie uses her knee to shove your legs further apart, her large hands immediately move to spread your pussy apart and she licks a long stripe from your clit to your tighter hole.

“Fucking shit! Fuck fuck fuck!” The filthy words pass through your lips like nothing, and Ellie almost laughs at the idea of the sweetest girl in the world having such a foul mouth. She moves back down to stuff her tongue into your pussy, sliding the wet muscle in and out, licking and sucking on your folds like a woman starved.

You’re babbling and sobbing into your pillowcase, begging for literally anything. Ellie keeps her mouth connected to your pussy, but moves both of her hands to grip the globes of your ass and quickly spreads them. One hand stays planted on your ass, the other trails upward until her thumb rests over your tight hole, pressing in slightly before circling around it. She uses her previous spit as lube before slowly sliding her thumb into your ass, leaving it there while she licks on your cunt.

A sob erupts from your lips and immediately you’re rocking back and forth on her face, “good fucking girl. Use me, baby.”

Her thumb slides farther into your ass and before you know it, she’s sliding her other hand to meet it. She presses in her second thumb and you squeal, clenching around her fingers.

With one last lick to your clit, your orgasm hits like a truck. Your juices leak down Ellie’s chin and spurt out onto her cheeks, effectively covering her face with you. It’s deliciously sweet and Ellie happily laps up everything that drips from your pussy lips, slurping and gurgling like a feral animal.

She pulls away from your cunt and turns her face to the side, rubbing your juices onto her clothed shoulder. Her thumbs stay planted in your ass and she lightly pulls her thumbs apart, spreading you open.

“Fuck—fuck. No more. No!”

Ellie chuckles and decides to remove her fingers. She watches your knees buckle and you drop fully onto your bed, shaking and whimpering, “oh my God. Oh my God.”

You keep repeating it. Over and over.

“It’s actually Ellie. But, I told you I’d have you praying for me instead.”

You grunt into the pillow case and Ellie laughs, moving to rub her hand soothingly up and down the expanse of your back. She presses a kiss between your shoulder blades and helps you slide your shredded pantyhose down your legs along with your underwear.

Your dress is still bunched up around your chest and Ellie rugs the fabric down to cover your ass after pressing a kiss to the plump skin.

Just as she slides your dress fully back down, a knock sounds at your bedroom door, “honey? It’s dad. The sermon is over and I’m heading back to the church for the potluck. Are you coming?”

Ellie squeezes the flesh of your thighs in warning, “no, daddy. I’m staying here, don’t feel—ah, don’t feel good.”

Her fingers drift over your puffy lips while she listens to you answer your father outside the door, “okay, honey.”

His footsteps clank down the stairs and Ellie waits to hear the front door slam before she whispers in your ear, “I don’t think I’m done with my sermon yet.”

[dolliestfairy]

𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 ࿐ೀ

Jason Voorhees, Vincent Sinclair, Bo Sinclair, & Michael myers with Fem!Reader who is a Victoria Secret Models ✧ 𓏲๋ ⊹ ֢

𑁍 Tw : Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Denial, Insecurities, Mentions of Killing someone/murdering somebody, the word 'rotten' and 'blood'. Mostly fluff. Reader Skintone is Unannounced.

❁ Authors&Note ; THIS TAKE WAY TOO LONG CUS I'M SO FCKING LAZY 'M SO SORRYY 😭 but yea i tried my best... what do you think? i'll make part two if you like this one :) check out my Masterlist to see more stuff like this with different fandoms and community! happy reading fairies 🧚🏻‍♀️𓏲๋ ⊹ ֢

ִֶָ 𖥔 ࣪ Jason Voorhees

• absolutely loved you with all of his dead heart and soul.

• and worship you as well, i mean how couldnt he? you're just soo beautiful! your beauty can even melt his own rotten heart.

• now we know that jason is a very insecure big boy, and sometimes he felt insecure and disgust at himself because he often thinks about the untruth that he doesnt deserve to have someone as pretty as you.

• now if you see him acting like this.. please reassure him that he's enough, because truth to be told; he really need it. he is just shy... you know?..

• but besides his insecurities he is absolutely over the heels for you, he also really support your carrier and would def 100% killed for you.

• if someone tryng to take down your carrier just tell him and he'll rip their heads off their own body.

• and again; this was all just for you, the only person he would love besides his mother, ever.

ִֶָ 𖥔 ࣪ Vincent sinclair

• 'another draw insipration huhhh?' thats what this big 'ol boy thoughts about you when he first saw you.

• absolutely would die & killed for you. and let me tell you this guy is also has a mad respect for you.

• its like princess treatment you know.. anything you want he'll gave you it.. you want a new beautiful wax sculpture of yours? no problem baby.. he'll make it for you just gave him 1 weeks! you want something but its outside of the city? no problem! bo would do it for him. if he doesnt want to? lester would be the one.

• loves seeing you pose for yourself. it really gave him more ideas. he sometimes love to think of you in a different type of clothes.

• also loooove your confiedence, really boost his energy. his place was usually has this gloomy and just plain walls and floor with a rotten blood scent 'dancing' through his room, but once you step your feet in then the atmosphere would just like.. change for the better.

• he is actually kind of insecure about himself, but everyday he get better and better once he got those bless-kisses from you into his cheeks, and he freeaking loves it!

ִֶָ 𖥔 ࣪ Bo Sinclair

• really cocky about it at first...

• but then turns out he was actually obsessed with you.

• he doesnt want to admit it though.. Hell, he would rather bury his own self alive than admitting his feelings towards you.

• its just that he felt like the feelings "love" is making him vulnerable and he just seems those as something as uneccesary and a waste of time.

• thats what he thought until he felt like he cant take it anymore as he just angrily confessed his feelings towards you with like zero preparations at all like it was all just... happen.

• this guy is a weirdo, but would never admit it anyway. and yeah... he likes you, a lot. but again.. He Would Never Say This Out Loud.

ִֶָ 𖥔 ࣪ Michael Myers

• doesnt really understand about the concept of those thing called "Victorian secret" you worked to.

• until he start observe and observe and observe.. stalking and stalking here and there.. trying to find the explanation.

• and when he finally got it, it was all just make sense to it. i mean you're a very irresistable person and it left him feeling so Struck-eye.

• but he would never admit this...

• it doesnt change anything at all tbh, the way he show about how much he loves you is that he doesnt hurt or even killed you.

• instead, at some rare occasion, you'll find yourself in your room with a strange yet pretty stuff besides it where it was covered in blood and shits.

• and yeah thats how this big dude show his scary intimidating love towards you <3 he's also always sometimes watching you sleep at night. i know its kinda creepy but uh.. at least he doesnt try to hurt you ig?.............

[unreliablesnake]

Thunderstorm (Simon Riley x f!reader)

Summary: Simon spoils his daughter and he’s always there when she needs him–even if it’s because of a little thunderstorm.

Note: MW3 is coming, I’ll be back on my bullshit. / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics.

“Daddy, please.”

That was it. Simon was usually defeated by these two words that his four-year-old used every time she wanted something. After all, he was his little princess, the sweet child who often fell asleep on the couch next to him in the evening, the one who held tea parties for her toys and him every now and then.

Since he wasn’t home that much, and since he never knew when his luck would run out on the field, he treated every second with her as if it was the last time he saw her. You knew perfectly well that’s why he always spoiled her, why she quickly became daddy’s little girl, so you never said anything to stop him. They needed to bond so she would have good memories of him, and you didn’t want to take it away from them.

“One day you’ll have to stop letting her get away with everything, you know,” you told him one evening after he came back from his daughter’s room following a fight about bedtime that was over an hour ago. “We need to set certain rules.”

“I know, I know.” Simon took his place in bed next to you, an arm wrapping around your shoulder to pull you closer. “It’s just so hard to say no. I swear I’m trying.”

You looked up at him and before you knew it, his lips captured yours in a sensual kiss that aimed to make you forget about what he had just done. But you knew better than to fall into his trap, so you pulled away with a delicate smile and gave him an understanding look.

“I know that, Simon, but we need to be partners in this. It must be nice to be the good cop, but she’ll become a little monster if we let her do anything she wants.”

After taking a deep breath, Simon nodded. “You’re right. It’s just so tough to be strict when I’m away this much,” he admitted before placing a soft kiss on your temple. “By the way, did you hear that?” You gave him a confused look so he went on almost immediately. “A thunderstorm. It’s coming this way.”

Finally it made sense to you because you let out a sigh and said, “She’ll run in crying anyway. Go get her.”

He got out of bed, but instead of leaving the room, he just put his hands on his hips and asked, “You sure? I will be the good cop again.”

“Go.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

His daughter was terrified of thunderstorms. She had been like that since the beginning, always crying when lightning struck nearby, instinctively calling for her mommy and daddy when she was scared, or running into their bedroom right after the sound reached her. He knew she would grow out of this eventually, but until then he wouldn’t want her to stay in her room alone.

Those nights when she slept in their bed between them were his favorites. Sure, he loved to be alone with you too; to explore your body over and over again, drawing out those sweet moans and whines from you, and seeing you fall apart for him. But being together as a family, having his favorite girls so close to him was still better.

Simon liked to think of himself as a good father and husband. He broke the cycle, he became a better man than his father had ever been, and every day he spent home with you two was filled with actions that spoke louder than words. He wanted the both of you to know, to feel that he loved you more than anything in this world.

When he reached his daughter’s room and peeked inside, he noticed that she was sleeping peacefully under the warm blanket. For a moment he wondered if he should just leave her be for now, but then he heard the storm outside and realized you had been right and this was for the best. So he picked her up carefully and walked back to the master bedroom, laying the little girl on the middle of the bed next to you.

“Thank you,” you told him quietly.

Shaking his head, Simon leaned over to give you a quick kiss. “Anytime, love.”

You flashed a wide smile at him, but before you could say anything, your daughter turned on her side and cuddled up to you with her small arm wrapped around your waist. Simon was a little jealous, but he kept this to himself for now. Sooner or later she would wake up and cuddle up to him instead as she usually did.

[erissheiress]

Lonely Anymore

The Inner Circle x Reader

Warnings: depression, mentions of feeling numb, mention of blood and crying, alcohol, platonic intimacy, mentioned Feyre, Elain and Nesta, reader doesn't like Nesta and Elain bc I dont lol. Repost from my main blog.

Summary: You need your family, and they need you.

Word count: 782

Taglist: 

* * *

The window was wide open, harsh gusts of wind blowing into the room, disrupting papers on the desk and blowing your hair into your face, stinging your skin and making your eyes water.

Yet, you hardly seemed to notice the biting cold that struck your skin, hardly flinching, or moving from where you sat on the armchair, legs folded and arms around your knees, hugging them close to your chest. Your nails dug into the palms of your hands, nearly drawing blood, but again, it attracted none of your attention.

Your eyes were dull, dark bags under your eyes, from exhaustion mostly. Tears had streamed down your cheeks earlier but not anymore, you simply had no tears left to give to the world, nothing more you could offer.

You had given this world your blood, sweat and tears, your love and your dreams, and in return it had given you the one thing you always lacked;

A family.

The Inner Circle.

It had started with Rhys, Cassian, Azriel, and Mor. Then Amren, then Feyre. Nesta and Elain joined then, though you didn't like them very much, but that was possibly because of how they treated your High Lady, and finally baby Nyx, the newest, and your favourite, member of the family.

So the world gave you a family, and a chance of being loved.

But that was never going to be all, was it? It seemed that the world wasn't quite finished with you yet

No, it gave you hate as well as love, fear as well as joy, pain as well as care. 

It caused your dreams to turn to nightmares, your hopes to failures, your youthful innocence to turn to hardened pessimism. 

You're not sure when you stopped feeling like you were part of the family, perhaps it was over Solstice? Solstice where you sat in the corner as Feyre and Rhys cuddled Nyx in front of the fire, as Nesta and Cassian playfully bickered while Azriel and Elain laughed at their banter, as well as Mor who happily danced in the centre of the room, swinging a bottle of wine around like a weapon.

And you.. you just sat there, nursing your own wine, suddenly feeling lonelier than you had ever felt before. As you watched them each be happy in their own ways, a weight settled on your chest, and had stayed there ever since.

You did your job, played an active role as a member of the Night Court, but distanced yourself as well. They didn't seem to notice, only little Nyx, who crawled onto your lap one evening and poked your cheek, a frown on his adorable face.

"Sad"

"I'm not sad, Nyxie."

But he only frowned even more. "sad" before planting a wet kiss on your chin. "Happy."

"Yes darling, your kisses make me very happy."

Babies were so easy to satisfy.

So now you sat alone in your room, on an uncomfortable chair, without warm clothes, while the winter air froze your body, yet not bothering you at all.

You didn't feel anything, just numb.

You didn't feel anything when the window closed suddenly, or when footsteps entered the room. 

You didn't feel anything when strong arms lifted you to your bed, or when calloused hands stroked your hair softly. 

Or when four other figures clambered into the bed with you, three Illyrian males and one female. 

You only felt something when the blonde smoothed your hair out of your face and looked at you with the softest expression you had ever seen on her face.

"We love you, you know that right?" and you felt it all of a sudden, like a wave of emotion. Overwhelming you completely. 

You'd learn later that Azriel lay closest to you, and it was him that carried you to the bed and held you so snugly, that it was Cassian who stroked your hair so softly and it was Rhysand who shut the windows, using his abilities to heat your frigid room. 

You'd learn all this later but for now you let it out like a burst dam, as you sobbed into Azriel's chest, three other pairs of hands comforting you in some way, the best way they could. 

Your family.

A 5th figure, a shorter female slipped in at one point, taking a protective position at the end of the bed, comforting you the only way she knew how, and was appreciated nonetheless. 

You loved Feyre, and Elain and Nesta were part of the circle now too, but for now you needed your first family, and they mentally vowed to spend as much time as possible convincing you that they needed you too. 

That they needed you, that they loved you, that you were important to them, and that they'd always be there for you.

That you didn't have to be lonely anymore.

[leggerefiore]

do you suppose we could have some headcanons for Guzma coming across his S/O’s ex who, to put a fine point on it, didn’t treat them so well?

please, and thank you 💀

sorry its a little short, but I hope you enjoy still!

cw: light mentions of abuse (nothing explicit), guzma intimidating someone, threats

pairing: Guzma/Reader

💀Guzma🕶

□ Due to his affiliations with misfits around Alola, he was, unfortunately, more than inclined to hear abuse stories. Hell, he even had his own as much as he was not the type to talk about it. Your story, though, struck him harder than most. He was not going to lie and pretend that you were not clearly favourite to him, so hearing what you went through made him more frustrated than usual. Some poor random trainer got a hot battle by an angry bug man later that day to vent off the rage.

□ The details about what happened to you and anything about your ex were glued in his mind. He doubted that he would ever come across them, especially in the places that he usually roamed about. Yet, on the off chance that he did, they would get to know destruction in human form. He also let his grunts and Plumeria know about some of the details to make sure that they did not cross your path again. The last thing Guzma wanted was for you to have old trauma forced open by someone not even worthy of your presence.

□ But, as luck would have it, he caught a glance of them while he was in Malie waiting on someone. He had been leaning against the wall of the city's garden when they walked out. Guzma felt his fist unconsciously clench, and his eyes narrowed. This was the person who had caused you so much stress and suffering. Why? He felt bad when you got upset over him getting hurt after messing with that old man's cats. Purposefully drawing out that seemed painful. He strolled over to them while they were blissfully unaware.

□ Guzma easily cornered them somewhere isolated and forced himself to stand up straight to give a little extra edge to his intimidation. He was not going to be stupid and do anything that would make that old man have to come after him. No, all he was going to do was make a few things clear. His brows grew together as his lips pulled back into a harsh expression. A hand hovered over Golisopod's pokeball in case he needed an extra hand.

□ “You recall how you treated your ex?” he spoke with an edge that clearly made them want to curl away from him. Their eyes went wide at his words, and they nodded nervously. Guzma wanted to roll his own. With how you had described them, he would have thought they would have at least done more than look terrified. “Good,” he placed his hands on his hips and made himself seem bigger, “If I ever hear that you harass them again or do any of that kinda shit to anyone else, I'll completely destroy you. Got it?”

□ When they finally squeaked out a “yes,” he backed away and let them go. Quickly, they ran out of the area and into a nearby crowd of people. He almost wanted to laugh at how pitiful they ended up. Did they only want to beat down on people weaker than them? How disgusting. Guzma felt awful that you had to deal with someone like that at all – especially in a romantic capacity. He felt at ease now, at least. A feeling that they would steer clear of you entered him. And, suddenly, he had an urge to take you for a walk around the Malie Garden. Might be nice to do an actual date for a change.

[oceaneyesinla]

Please don't ask what this is. Not usually a Sukuna girlie but I watched the fire arrow scene again and it does things to me (hands + fire = !!!!). No-one look at me, I've never written Sukuna or smut before

Divider by @/cafekitsune

Smut below, enjoy!

You knew what those hands had done. You knew what they were capable of. The lives they had taken and the blood they had spilled, red dripping from those strong fingers and running down past tattooed wrists. You had watched it in real time, watched as they struck down those who would insult him and tore apart those who would oppose him. He was merciless, and those hands were the conduit through which he directed his murderous urges.

You knew their destructive power, and yet you couldn’t fear them. Not when those same hands had handled you with such care. The same hands which ripped a man’s head from his body, were also the ones which lovingly ran through your hair, separating strands as if it were the finest silk in the land. Those hands were often covered in viscera, but they were just as often covered in expensive oils, providing sweet relaxation with every pass over your skin.

Those hands, with long, thick fingers and prominent veins running along the back. Palms slightly rough from the times where his cursed technique wasn’t enough and he bloodied his flesh to get the job done in a way that would satisfy his bloodlust.

The world would say they were the hands of a monster, and maybe they were right in the grand scheme of things, but they didn’t know that the hands they saw commit only evil were also capable of such love. They would never know the man within that monster. They would not know the reverent gaze you were fixed with as those hands trailed across your body, mapping the skin they passed over. Nor would they know the deep chuckle that filled the air as those hands toyed with your nipples to draw breathy moans from your throat.

Those hands knew your body better than anyone else, and they knew how to reduce you to a whimpering mess within minutes. Warm palms would run up and down the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, each pass bringing them closer to where you wanted them most. Skillful fingers would tease at your clit, the fleeting contact making you squirm. Two fingers would scissor to pull apart your folds, so red eyes could see the evidence of your arousal. Thick digits would press inside you, seeking out that spot along your walls with focus and precision, determined to watch you arch your back and listen to you moan his name. Sukuna knew your weakness for his hands, and he knew exactly how to exploit it. It benefited him too, you came to realise. He wanted to feel your heat flutter around his fingers; he drew pleasure from feeling your arousal coat his skin, leaving a slick sheen. He knew just how to get his results, too - knew that every time he praised you; reminded you that you were so good for him, that you took his fingers so well, you would clench a little harder around him.

Those hands would pin yours to the bed, and they would rest heavy on your hips as he rutted into you, and one would come up to grasp your cheeks, forcing you to meet his eyes as you fell apart in his hold. After your lovemaking, those hands were gentle as ever, cleaning up the fluids coating your thighs and massaging sore muscles.

Those hands belonged to the man you loved, and no matter what horror they, and he, committed, you would never see anything more or less than your Sukuna.

[majeoeje]

In the afternoon of this garden

Teru Minamoto x reader

Your touch that should have lingered far longer disappeared and left me to grow cold

"Teru...do tell me. Would you exorcist me if i was an apparition?"

You say in a tone that was unfamilliar to him, a soft, frigid tone, with a tinge of timid and nervousness that laces your voice. It was a hypothetical question. One as silly as when a girl asks her boyfriend if they would love them if they were a worm. Isn’t that what people who are dating supposed to do? Ask silly sappy questions?

But Teru wasn’t your boyfriend. Your soon to be marriage were arranged. And contrary to popular belief, Teru wasn’t willing to answer your silly questions with sappy answers. He was an exorcist above all else. And to someone who knew his true interior, he doesn’t even bother to hide the fact that he was cold

.

"In a heartbeat"

●●●

That day flashes Teru's mind seconds as he hesitated to draw his blade, the lightning that usually emitted from it dims down to small stings of electric waves

Today isn't as different as that day teru said to his mind. Nothing changed. He convinced himself

Though the thundering skies may beg to differ.

"Ahhh- my alyssum is dying!!" You moped, hovering an umbrella over it, in an attempt to save it for even just a little bit knowing well that the recent pouring rain of japan would kill this plant of yours.

You failed to notice right behind you he stood. Teru's heart thumped in a suffocating way

Thump

.

Thump

.

Thump.

.

Each and every heartbeat felt like it's going to rip his chest open

Lightning struck from from faraway, though when the light flashed your figure his eyes widened.

He shook his head, it's only an illussion, he must be imagining things...nothing's changed. He looks up after noticing your form no longer holds a shadow

There's no way you're...

The gurgling sound of thunder followed

You didn't flinch. You were used to lightning after all. Your initial fear of it became nonexistant after the first time you saw Teru’s exorcism. It had became clear that your admiration towards him could drive away any lingering fear in your heart. Now every sound of roaring thunder just reminds you of him.

"Maybe i should build a hut for my plants" you joked, looking back to him. Raising an eyebrow at his stiffness, he stood there unmoving, contemplating hard on his next move.

Your eyes examine him before coming to a fit of laughter

"And here i thought i was devastated! Ahahaha!" you joked once again, trying to lift up the mood, despite him staying silent. Your laugh only sounding like a distant voice outside of his dome of thoughts that he locked himself into

You went up to him, still frozen, now lifting the umbrella to him, worried he might get sick by how damped his uniform was getting, letting the rain hit you

Though you failed to notice for how much you stood in the rain, your uniform stayed ever so dry

"Teru, are you okay?" Your hand went to his cheek

You remain unfazed while Teru stood there still frozen from how he couldn't feel anything from the contact

the proof was right on his face yet he seeks more excuses .

He denied it. How you complained about how your friends ignored you, how you always feel cold these days, how you're never hungry or thirsty, how you would smile and say your body never hurts anymore. Each and every change that you present to him he ignored. He ignored every sign.

Perhaps he wanted to keep you longer than you should've lingered.

But with this simple gesture, it feels like reality is forcing him to wake up out of his stupid dream and just end your suffering.

Funny how he never once thought there would be a future where he is not by your side. He never thought to wonder if at some point of dreading his fate, he had turned to grown impatient of it. After so long the thought of not being married to you sounded despicable. He truly thought it was his rightful fate. Yet now it only felt like a distant dream.

He tried to remember that day again, closing his eyes, not wanting you to see how reddened his eyes are now

●●●

"In a heartbeat." he said

A cruel answer to give to the one you cherish in this very lovely garden. Though Teru could only realize his adoration when it is too late. Like right now when he saw your face contort upon hearing his answer. Were you disappointed?… he didn’t know but the thought of you harboring any negative emotions all because of him made him uneasy.

“Thought you’d say that” you said. Teru wanted to retract his words. But his pride had gotten in the way, and instead he rubbed salt in the wound

“We’re exorcist above all else. I hope you don’t forget that”.

This time, you didn’t face him, only silently watering your precious flowers. Your stiff movements only adding to the awkwardness

"I know". You said simply, smiling once more feeling the tense atmosphere. Trying to at light up the mood

You had always confused him.. But he wouldn't mind being confused the rest of his life, he just wanted you.

Was it guilt? Teru didn’t know. But at that moment he decided internally that from then on he’d answer your silly questions wholeheartedly. He doesn’t want you to look at him like that ever again. He’ll try his best for you. He has a lifetime to prove himself after all

●●●

"Oh Teru..don't cry"

you said, awakening him from his memory of you, a memory of a time where he first realized his awakening sweet hopes and dreams to be with you, as he now opened his eyes to the harsh bitter reality

He wondered how you could've noticed his tears in this heavy pour

"I can't-.. i can't..." his voice cracked, he only wished the rain could covers his plead to the gods wishing that this was just a long dreadful dream

"How could i even possibly-... you.."

he couldn't bring himself to finish that very sentence, the very person that he loved with all his heart became a being that he swore to erase

After years of being together, you had seen a lot of side of him, even a side which he cried and stuttered. Yet each and everytime you witness it, you never thought you could ever be the one who would ever hurt him like this.

You looked into his eyes, maybe for the last time. He could tell by the look in your eyes that you knew all along. It hurts him even more

All the signs...it wasn't just signs, it was sirens of clues that you lit for him to see. Yet he chose to close his eyes

With each and every thump on his chest, he can't bring himself to do it, he fell to the ground clutching his chest, his katana made a loud clunk when it collided to a stone, making it ring through the garden in an eerie way

You kneeled in front of him embracing him in what he feels like a gust of wind

"We’re exorcist, above all else"

.

.

.

(I srsly forgot most of things in tbhk but i do remember being obsessed to this guy)

[codo17]

Stars Aligned

**I was inspired by the solar eclipse. It was my first time and probably last time experiencing it and it was everything! This is my first story so I hope you like it. English is not my first language so please do correct me if there's anything wrong. <3**

-> ~750 word

-> fluff

Today, April 8th, 2024, was destined to be a day etched into the tapestry of your shared history—a moment of cosmic significance that stirred excitement across North America. But for you and Jessie, it wasn't just about witnessing a total solar eclipse; it was about experiencing it together, sharing a bond that transcended mere scientific curiosity.

Since childhood, the mysteries of the cosmos had held you captive. From your early days crafting makeshift telescopes to the late-night stargazing sessions, there was an undeniable pull toward the heavens above. The infinite knowledge contained within trillions of light-years had always filled you with a sense of wonder and awe, making you feel simultaneously insignificant and connected to something greater than yourself.

Of course, you'd always dreamed of finding someone with whom you could share this passion—a kindred spirit who would listen to your ramblings about the Andromeda Galaxy and the Kuiper Belt with genuine interest. Someone who gave you the same heart palpitations and goofy smile that perseids did. And then, Jessie entered your orbit—a radiant burst of light in your universe.

Meeting during your college days at UCLA, she defied engineering student stereotypes with her intelligence, charm, and warmth. There was an instant connection, a gravitational pull drawing you together like celestial bodies in motion. You bonded over shared interests in Tim Horton's, Sidney Crosby, sustainable farming, and football, finding comfort and joy in each other's company.

As your friendship with Jessie blossomed into love, it felt like discovering a new constellation—a beautiful alignment of hearts and minds. Study sessions transformed into late nights spent under the star-studded sky, fingers entwined as you traced the paths of shooting stars, sharing dreams and fears in the quiet darkness.

Seven years had passed since those early days, but the magic between you remained as potent as ever. Jessie's beauty wasn't just in her freckled face or twinkling brown eyes; it was in the way she laughed, the way she listened, the way she made you feel like you were the center of her universe.

As the solar eclipse approached, you couldn't imagine experiencing it with anyone but Jessie. Together, you made plans to witness the celestial spectacle—a rare moment of cosmic harmony that promised to be nothing short of breathtaking.

Standing side by side, the air crackled with anticipation as the moon began its slow dance across the sun's fiery surface. Jessie's hand found yours in the darkness, fingers intertwining as you both watched in awe.

"It's incredible," Jessie whispered, her voice barely audible above the thrum of excitement. You stole a glance at her, struck once again by her beauty and the depth of her gaze.

Your heart swelled with emotion as you watched the eclipse unfold, feeling a sense of wonder and insignificance wash over you. It was as if the universe had paused just for the two of you, a moment of perfect alignment in an otherwise chaotic world.

As the eclipse reached its peak, you turned to Jessie, her face illuminated by the otherworldly glow. "I feel so small but so in sync with the whole Universe at the same time... I don't know how to describe it, it's just uniquely perfect."

Jessie nodded, her eyes reflecting the fading remnants of the eclipse. "It's like we're a tiny part of something so much bigger, yet connected to it in a way that's hard to put into words."

"I think you've said it all," you replied, grateful for her understanding.

As the eclipse waned and the world returned to normal, you felt a surge of love and gratitude for the woman by your side. Cupping her face in your hands, you leaned in to press a tender kiss to her lips, savoring the warmth and sweetness of the moment.

"I love you so much, Jessie," you whispered, your voice filled with emotion.

Jessie's cheeks flushed with emotion as she met your gaze. "I love you too, as big as the whole world, y/n." She wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close in a tight embrace.

And in that moment, as the last traces of the eclipse faded into the sky, you knew that your love for each other was as boundless as the universe itself. With Jessie by your side, you felt ready to face whatever challenges the future might hold, knowing that together, you could weather any storm.

As you both basked in the afterglow of the eclipse, the sky gradually regained its familiar hue, and the world resumed its normal rhythm. But the experience had left an indelible mark on your hearts, strengthening the bond between you in ways words could never fully capture.

[tellmeallaboutit]

knock knock (Raphael x F!Player)

Chapter 15, In Which You Dance Twist With Mr. Goat (Pulp Fiction Style)

AO3

TAGS: self-harm, sharp objects, glass, politics

There was a time, not so long ago, when you were terrified of flying. 

The mere thought of that huge metal thing plummeting from the sky for no apparent reason (well, the human factor. It's always the human factor), a minute of sheer terror, descent, and then boom.

No survivors.

No bodies ever recovered.

You used to fear situations that so brazenly took control away from you. 

Well, you were wrong; there was something strangely comforting about letting go; about snuggling up in the plush comfort of an oversized leather seat, scrolling through messages on your phone to the roar of the twin engines. 

Raphael's hand was always on your knee, his tail wrapped tightly around your ankle, as if you could escape him on the private jet - or off it. A black diamond ring on your finger sparkled in the sunlight filtering through the oval windows. 

Across from you sat Camilla, while Jens occupied the far corner seat. Yurgir was conspicuously absent; you didn't pry into his reasons, just assumed his size exceeded the weight limit of any aircraft.

A headline in the Daily Mirror caught your eye: "Who is Anya Berger? What do we know about the mysterious girl who won the heart of a billionaire in ten days?"

What do they know, you wondered and clicked.

"Walk me through the panels again," Raul asked. "And the key people to talk to."

"Morning is boring," Korilla replied. "Mental health crisis, supply chain disruptions, sustainability regulations. You start in the afternoon, sir: your first is the AI discussions with the UN Secretary General's Special Envoy for Technology."

"I won't say a word about this soulless drivel," Raphael said, skimming through the agenda.

Camilla choked on her coffee while Jens flinched at her sudden movement, his hand swiftly resting on the gun now.

"Mr D'Avergni, Avernus' portfolio is 15% invested in AI technologies," she said as soon as she collected herself. "What do you mean 'soulless nonsense'? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said. I will not say a word about these abominable technologies. I have been made privy to information that they are cannibalising art and I will not stand for it". 

"Where did you hear this nonsense?" whispered Camilla. "Tumblr? Anya? Is that your doing?"

"I'm totally against AI," you interjected, without looking up from your phone, engrossed in the news article about your grunge heroin chic and manic-girl attitude.

They recommended black nail polish, drawing dark circles under your eyes and perfecting the look of total derangement to repeat your success. There were also some advanced blowjob techniques at the bottom of the article. 

"What is this panel 'Securing an Insecure World'?" asked Raphael. "I quite fancy the name."

"Sir, it has nothing to do with you. This is the macroeconomic panel on the dying middle class, youth problems, inequality, blah blah blah. Fear-mongering."

"Fear-mongering?" said Raphael. "I seem to have found my stage."

Camilla closed her eyes and put on her best smile. The flight attendant glided by in her pressed uniform and replaced your coffee; you were momentarily struck by the amount of cleavage she was showing as your eyes glanced upwards. 

To see very familiar eyes and a smile. Haarlep put a finger to her lips and gave you a little wink. You smiled back.

"Sir," Camilla said gently. "It doesn't work that way. You can't just speak whenever and about whatever you want in a global forum. It's all scripted, all pre-written."

"Astute observation," said Raphael. "Scripted conversations, scripted problems, scripted solutions, no room for improvisation. Davosneeds a breath of fresh air. Of honesty. Of a genuine hope for change".

Camilla said, "Of course, sir," and forced a smile. 

Back to the article: did they really get your ex-boyfriend to give an interview about you? Did he have anything good to say, that bastard who regularly forgot to flush the toilet?

Yes, he had plenty to say, mostly about you being not right in the head. You put him on your hit list and stroked Raphael's tail, which in turn stroked your ankle. They even got your mum on the phone, who thankfully had nothing much to say except that you were a good Catholic girl.

You saw some frantic movement out of the corner of your eye.

Camilla was waving you over to the plane's galley. You tried to get up, but were stopped by a tail wrapped around your ankle like a boa constrictor. "May I go to the toilet?" you asked, and Raphael uncoiled his tail, three times, with a slight reproach in his eyes. Jens did his best to keep a straight face, the corners of his mouth twitching.

Camilla pulled you deeper into the galley. She smelled of fresh coffee and burnout. 

"Anya, listen, I am very sorry that it has to come to this, but just between us girls..." she said, her fingers fidgeting with her diamond necklace. "Did Raul remember to take his medication today? I don't like his mood”. She shifted on her feet. "God, I miss the days when you could smoke in these things”.

"I'm not his doctor," you shrugged.

"Well, maybe it would be worth reminding him," Camilla drawled. "I'd rather not see viral videos of him committing political suicide in Davos. And I'm sure you'd agree."

You weren't so sure.

"I'm not going to poke the devil, and I suggest you don't either," you said, leaning against the galley counter.

Camilla sighed and gave you a very sympathetic smile.

"Anya, may I give you some friendly advice? Raul may seem like a half-god to you, but I've seen him curled up in a ball sobbing about how Daddy never loved him when he was high as a kite on coke. He's... as human as the rest of us. For better and worse”.

Just then, the plane shook violently, sending you both clutching the walls for support. The pilot quickly apologized over the intercom.

"Don't patronise me, Korilla," you said. "Do you think I'm just some pathetic, love-struck girl Raul likes to abuse?"

Camilla paused for a moment before suppressing a grin. "I'm going to invoke my right against self-incrimination. So tell me, my dear: who are you really?"

"Much more than meets the eye." You straightened up, standing slightly taller than her (which was not difficult). "I'm the one who gave him all this power in the first place."

"Wow," Kamilla snorted out in surprise. "Wow. Okay. Cool. Never mind."

"You need proof?" you said quietly. 

"Not really," she said.

"I wish you would get down on your knees and kiss my hand."

"What?" Kamilla burst out laughing. "Maybe you should share your medicine with Raul. Ask Dr Bambauer for a family discount. He will be at Davos, by the way, speaking on the mental health crisis".

"I wish for you to kiss my hand," you insisted. "Come on, do it, I have a point to prove."

You really need to learn how to calibrate these things. This one worked, though; she complied, sinking to her knees before you, a wild look in her eyes. Then she planted a surprisingly gentle kiss on your palm, leaving a crimson mark. 

"What the hell?" she whispered as she looked up at you. Raphael was engrossed in his paperwork, oblivious to the scene, so was Jens.

"See, Korilla," you started again after letting the moment hang awkwardly in the air for longer than necessary, "don't worry about Raphael talking nonsense. You'd be surprised how many people eat it up."

"Who the fuck is Raphael?"

"Your new boss," you said. "Well, old boss actually. Ahh... you won't really notice much of a difference; I hardly do myself sometimes," you lowered your voice to a minimum. "But don't tell them that, they'll get angry. You can get up now, this is getting a bit weird."

She tried to say something, her lips barely moving. You think it was 'how'. She was asking ‘how’.

"You see," you said. "The devil thinks I am very, very  special”.

Having said that, you came back to your seat. Raphael's tail immediately darted to your ankle and wrapped around it. You leaned back in your chair and watched Haarlep flirting with the pilot out of the corner of your eye.

It would be really stupid to crash because Haarlep wanted to have a quickie in the cockpit. The plane began its descent to Samedan St Moritz airport. The rugged Swiss Alps came into view out the window, snow-capped peaks glistening in the afternoon sun. 

***

When you book a presidential suite you no longer have to check in, you can just walk straight past the reception. The hotel was a mountain resort so exclusive that the website was just an artistic photo with no way to reserve a room. 

Raphael was eerily calm as he watched the staff unpack your belongings. His calm demeanour lasted until some poor sap nearly wrinkled his suit while trying to hang it in the en-suite cloakroom. A deafening growl sent the trembling fellow scuttling from the room.

The rest were given very generous tips.

Soon after, you found Raphael rehearsing his speech in a mirror, repeating the same phrases three times in a row, "when youth was told their souls were worthless, easily replicated by machines". Each time he spoke, there was a subtle change in tone, as if he was trying to capture some emotion - you were not quite sure what he was getting at - was he trying to imitate genuine concern? 

If so, he could work on his delivery.

He gave it another shot, the tension in his back muscles evident through his shirt.

"Excellent choice of attire, gattina," he gave you a look you approached. "Might I suggest an improvement? Not these trousers. The black pencil skirt with the white vertical stripes, the Saint Laurent one from the spring collection."

"It looks absurd on me," you looked away. "I don't have the body for it."

"You have the body for anything," he said. "Don't debate me on this. Slip into the skirt, return here and see how right I am”.

That damned skirt was a nightmare: so constricting that any wrong move felt like a tear waiting to happen; clearly designed by someone who either had never laid eyes on an actual woman or harbored a deep-seated resentment towards anyone the wrong size and proportion, which would be everyone. 

Yet somehow, you managed to wriggle yourself into it and made your way back to him.

"Now that's what I want to see," Raul smiled. "A beautiful woman and all mine."

"It's two sizes smaller than what I wear".

"Come closer, you silly creature, and grasp how breathtaking you are."

He tugged you towards the full-length mirror and swept your hair to one side so that you could take in your entire reflection.

Only it wasn’t yours.

When you played Sims and tweaked the controls to create the ideal you, you ended up with someone like this. Every trait similar to what you had, only better. A lot better. Smoother skin, better hair, smaller waist, perkier tits.

"They will see you through my eyes," Raphael said as his hands slid under your blouse and cupped your breasts. "These mortals will seethe with jealousy, envying me for having you and you for having me."

The woman in the mirror looked like someone Raphael would choose to be his consort. The skirt looked perfect, as it was tailor made just for you. 

"That’s not me," you said, mesmerized by the eerie reflection.

"Nonsense. You didn't know who you truly were until you met me," he whispered in your ear. "If it's not you I'm putting my arms around, why would you feel them?"

You felt his palms squeeze your breasts and roll your nipples between his fingers. His lips brush your neck. His growing bulge against your backside.

"Now would you be so kind?.." he asked. 

You could swear the woman in the mirror was bending over before you did, eagerly offering herself, sliding her panties down to her knees and placing her palms on either side of the mirror for leverage. His hands kneaded your buttocks, spreading you apart as his erection pressed against your entrance.

Foreplay wasn't on his agenda, you realized with a shiver. True enough, he penetrated you with a single thrust. First sharp pain, then the very familiar pleasure, liquid and pitch black and all-consuming.

"Look," he said. "Look at yourself. Look at me. Marvel at what you see."

The woman in the mirror moaned in response, pleasure etched on her face as the devil behind her ravaged. Her features twisted and blurred in ever-changing motion, skin wobbling like waves of water; she was shifting between all the women you ever dreamed of being - one moment Tav, then Christine, then Sarah Williams.

"It's not real," you moaned. 

His eyes remained fixed on the mirror the whole time he fucked you. You arched backwards into him, grinding against him with each thrust, skin slapping against skin.

"There is no reality," he whispered back. "Other than what you see in that mirror”.

His thrusts came harder now, jolting you against the cold glass. The woman in the mirror seemed to have gone insane from how well she was being fucked, her face twisted in a barely human grimace of bliss.

"Climax," he commanded with a snap of his fingers.

You saw the woman in the mirror go limp in his arms, a look of absent bliss on her face, and then remember that the woman was you. A jagged sound ripped from you. Your body responded to the command like a dog thrown a biscuit; your cunt tightened around his cock once.

Twice. 

The woman in the mirror morphed again; now it’s someone you’d seen a thousand times, the weird pale girl nobody ever gave a second look. 

You. 

Thrice.

The mirror you were propped against shattered - spectacularly so, its razor-sharp fragments raining down like confetti.

"Hang on," you managed to gurgle out in sheer terror as you tumbled, losing your balance. "Raphael, hold on..."

He didn't. Instead, he let gravity take over and you fell face-first into the broken mirror below, his weight following right after. Your scream of pleasure morphed into a wail of agony as countless tiny shards opened up on your skin; mutilating, cutting, obliterating. 

oh god it hurts 

Raphael groaned as he drove you deeper and deeper into the jagged fragments, your writhing and screaming doing nothing to deter him. The shards under your skin thrust in and out with each thrust, piercing right through you, through your face.

oh god it hurts; pulsated the single thought. The pain was nothing like you had felt before; it was the clearest sensation your clouded mind had ever processed.

A growing pool of blood spread like spilled wine on the white marble tiles beneath you. You closed your eyes tightly, but that didn't make the blood disappear. You blinked them open again... then closed them... 

Blood was still there. Raphael thrust once, so hard there wasn’t a single shard left that didn’t hurt you. 

Twice.

Three times, and he came inside you, spitting curses in Italian between ragged breaths. 

The pain suddenly vanished as if snapped away by his fingers; but its ghostly memory kept your tears flowing.

"I swear to God, kitten" Raul murmured as he rolled off you, "the way you're screaming would make anyone think I'm murdering you."

You opened your eyes and stared at the perfectly white tiles.

No blood.

No shards. No cuts. No pain.

Nothing. You looked up in the mirror: the Gorgeous Version of You looked back. You looked down on yourself. 

Exactly how you always wanted to be. 

You laughed in blissful abandon. Then, you rolled onto your back, catching sight of Raul's gobsmacked expression which made you laugh even harder.

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