#wouldn't have had THIS much overwhelming access to
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If you do asks for Primarch dads, let me humbly offer Primarchs reacting to their kid sustaining pretty serious injury.
-Mortarion sometimes underestimated the intelligence of his child. They weren't stupid by any means, he simply did not expect much from them considering their young age. Not even a decade old, what could they do? So when they expressed an interest in his work, his lab, he had refused them without a second thought. He hadn't even considered the possibility that they might find another way into the room, even without his direct access. Mortarion had been careless. He should have used better locks.
His child weeps and trembles in his arms, small hands covering their burned face in a desperate effort to soothe the pain. Their cries pierce straight through his hearts and when Mortarion is forced to move their hands away from their face so the apothecary can get a look at the injuries, he apologizes, begs them for forgiveness. He's so sorry, little one, please forgive him. Because this was his fault. He should have been more careful. Mortarion will carry this guilt for the rest of his life.
-It's his child's birthday and like usual, Fulgrim is holding a big banquet to celebrate them. Everything is going according to plan. The guests are enjoying themselves, the music is splendid, the food and drink delicious and his child is being admired by all. Fulgrim feels like nothing can go wrong. So when his child approaches him, quietly admitting to not feeling too well, he initially waves it off. It's just nerves, dear. Have a bite to eat and you will feel better in no time. And for a few minutes, everything is fine. Then his child suddenly collapses onto the floor, clutching their mouth as a torrent of dark blood spews from between their lips.
Fulgrim is not really sure what happens next. He's by their side, holding their hand and he knows the guests are screaming, panicking, but he can't hear them. Can't even see them as anything more than moving blurs in his peripheral. He's too focused on the way his child, the way they are trembling, shaking and gasping for air, all while looking him in the eyes pleadingly. He can't look away because what if this is it? It's only when a team of apothecaries arrives and begin their life-saving efforts that Fulgrim snaps out of it, fear and anguished turning into overwhelming hatred. Immediately, he orders his men to apprehend all the guests and the servants, let no one escape. Someone has poisoned his child and he promises, oh he swears on his life and honor, that whoever did it will face a fate worse than death.
-It was an accident. Angron, despite all his faults, had never wanted to hurt his child. Even in his darkest moments, even when he had been overcome with senseless rage, this sentiment rang true. That's why he'd always kept his child at arm's length, so he wouldn't accidentally hurt them. And it had worked. Angron had not laid a single hand on his child in anger, had never made them bleed. Not until the day it finally happened, when he snapped. His child, who had never feared his temper, had given him an attitude and Angron, who had already been in a bad mood, had acted instinctively and... It hurt to just think about what he had done in that sudden fit of uncontrollable rage.
Once the red haze had left his mind, Angron had found himself standing above his child who laid sprawled out on the floor, eyes wide and full of fear while clutching their jaw with both hands. It was broken, the skin of their lips split and a few teeth knocked loose. Immediately, Angron felt his blood go cold as he realized what he had done. He wanted to reach out, to apologize and plead for forgiveness, to cradle them in his arms and take away the pain, make it his own, tear his own heart out and die and- and- Angron storms out the room, guilt tearing him apart on the inside and the nails screaming at him to shed even more blood.
-Magnus often forgot how young his child truly was. How inexperienced and vulnerable they were. It was too easy to see himself in them so when they pushed themself... he didn't stop them in time. And now they had to pay for it, for his lack of foresight. They were in a coma, caused by intense psychic backlash. They had just wanted to prove themself to him, to show their power as a psyker but it had been to much for them and... Magnus had seen them drop, like a puppet with all their strings cut off, and for a moment he had feared them dead and the palace had shook with his psychic scream of agony.
He spends a long time by his child's side as they recover. He tells them stories, tales full of wonder and hopes they provide his little one with pleasant dreams. Magnus could check for himself, could enter their mind and take a look but he does not dare to. Not after what happened. What if his psychic presence only makes it worse? So he sits on the edge of their bed, hands clasped and head hanging low, almost as if in prayer, and waits for his child to awaken.
-When the Iron Warrior approaches him, Perturabo knows it's about his child. He can see it on their face, as the astartes always have this expression when it comes to them. The space marine explains that his child hit their head pretty hard during a sparring session and now got a concussion. Perturabo sighs. Tells the astartes' to discipline whoever had been his child's sparring partner and then waves them away before going back to his work. He's not worried. His child is attended to by apothecaries and serfs, they are looked after and attended to. There's no need for him to work himself up over this.
It's only when Perturabo later goes to check up on his child, to see how well they are healing, that he feels... something. They are in bed and their chamber is dark, with only a few candles scattered though out the room to shed some dim light. They look at him, greet him like he expects them to, but Perturabo can see the sluggishness in their movements, their dazed expression. Seeing them so vulnerable is... unpleasant. He tells his child to rest well, to do as the apothecaries say and to recover swiftly before hurrying out of the chamber, desperate to get rid of the heavy feeling in his chest.
-As much as Alpharius and Omegon values intelligence and subterfuge, they are both very much aware that in this galaxy ravaged by conflict, some occasions required a more direct approach using brute force. As such, their child is taught how to fight from an early age. It starts with basic self defense. It pleases both of them to see that their child quickly takes to the lessons and excel in the training exercises. But even a prodigy can stumble and so, during one of their sparring lessons, things go wrong. There's a crack and a yelp of pain and suddenly there are tears in the child's eyes.
A broken rib, the twin Primarchs are informed. Easily treated, with some rest and ice applied to the swollen area. Alpharius and Omegon listen attentively, calm but serious. They are not worried, their minds put at ease by the apothecary's diagnosis and words. Instead, they try to frame the thing as something positive to their child, a learning opportunity. They want to make it clear that failure and pain does not mean everything is lost. A valuable lesson for the future.
-When Lorgar gets the message that his child is in the medical center, he does not hesitate to rush there, no matter what he's doing at the time. Nothing is more important to him than the wellbeing of his child. Lorgar arrives at the medical center to find them sitting on one of the medical cots, in the middle of getting attended to by an apothecary. Immediately, Lorgar is by their side, inspecting them for damage. He starts frowning and murmuring with concern when he sees the medical patch over their eye and his frown grows even larger when he's told that his child almost lost the eye.
Honestly, Lorgar is more concerned and worried than his kid is and they have to ease his nerves by promising to be more careful in the future. For the entirety of the time that his child wears the medical eyepatch, there will be a look of concern on his face, a soft frown that only goes away when the eye finishes healing and the patch is removed.
-It all happened so quickly. All Horus had wanted to do was show his child a planet that him and the Luna Wolves had recently inducted into Imperium after defeating the local forces. His pride had urged him to share this success with them, to bask in their admiration. Horus had assumed the area secure, all the opposition defeated... He had been wrong. One vengeful enemy soldier, unable to accept the fact that they had lost, laying in wait with their gun locked and loaded. A coward that, instead of going after Horus himself, had decided to target his child. One second they are laughing, smiling, and then there's the echo of gunfire and they are on the ground, bleeding. His child is bleeding.
Horus holds them in his arms, cradling them like a newborn as they weakly clutch at him and whimper in pain. He shushes them gently, smooths their hair out of their face and promises them everything will be alright. He's the picture of calm, of composure and comfort. Inside, however, he is raging, howling like a mindless beast thirsting for bloody vengeance. He's only holding back so he can soothe his child, keep them calm. But he knows that the moment he gets his hands on the one who did this, he will devolve into a savage and tear them apart in the most agonizingly painful way he can think of. That, he promises.
-Konrad is in the other end of fortress when hears the sudden scream of pain coming from his child. The reaction is instantaneous. Like a man possessed, he rushes through the hallways, roughly shoving aside whoever is too slow to get out of his way, astartes and serfs alike. He doesn't even notice them, mind busy conjuring up different scenarios of what might have happened, each worse than the last. Konrad arrives at his child's room to find them crouched on the floor, clutching their hand and whimpering. On the floor is a pool of blood, a knife, and a finger.
In less than a second, he's by their side, inspecting their hand and asking, rather brusquely, what happened. And his child cries, from both pain and shame, as they admit to having played with the weapon, wishing to be like their father. Konrad feels a million different emotions all at once but he can only express it with a tight expression and grit teeth as he picks his little one up, their severed finger in one hand, as he takes them to the Apothecary, hoping that they can reattach the digit. He silently blames himself for letting this happen because if he had not been the way he is, then his child would never have gotten the idea to play with deadly weapons.
-From the moment he had seen their little wings, Sanguinius had looked forward towards teaching his child how to fly. And to be fair, it had been going great! His child was brave and eager to learn, listening attentively to him as he explained how to spread their wings and watching as he demonstrated how to balance on the winds. They were getting more confident in the air, more daring. It was a good thing but Sanguinius still told them that they were only allowed to practice under his supervision. He should have known they would eventually disobey him. After all, he would have done the same.
Still, the result still ended up catching Sanguinius by surprise. A broken wing, caused by his child crash landing after they had tried to fly on their own. He holds them close as the apothecary tends to their broken limb, their forehead pressed against his sternum as they cry. Sanguinius combs through their hair with one hand and keeps them from moving around too much with the other so the apothecary can do their job. He mutters soft words of comfort, not just to make their pain more bearable but to prove to them that he is not angry at them. Upset at their injury, yes, but he could never stay mad at his child. Sanguinius will take care of them while they are healing, making sure that they remember they can always trust him.
-No. No ,no, no, no. It's the only thought that echoes inside Corvus's head when he sees his child fall from the rafters that they so love to play in. He acts on pure instinct, dashing forward to catch them, arms outstretched and practically throwing himself across the room. But he's too late. The sound they make when their small body hit the floor will haunt him to his dying days and the way they just lay on the floor, unmoving... If not for the soft rise and fall of their ribcage, Corvus would have feared them dead. Gently scooping his child up in his arms and cradling them close, Corvus runs to the apothecary, doing his best to shake their body as little as possibly to not make their injuries worse.
When he arrives at the apothecaries, his eyes are wide, panicked. "Help them". It's an order, a plea, a demand. Corvus practically hovers over the apothecary as they work. It's not that he does not trust them but there's this lingering fear that won't go away. In his mind's eye, he sees his child falling and hitting the floor, over and over again. He should never have let them play up there, what was he thinking? Blames himself for this happening and his guilt manifests as overprotectiveness.
-Ferrus was not meant to be a father. He knew this better than anyone else. Yet somehow, he still managed to disappoint himself. When his child had expressed an interest in his work, Ferrus had been happy. Proud. Eager to share his knowledge and passion. So eager that he momentarily forgot just how fragile children are. That's why he hadn't given them any protective gear when they entered his workshop. Ferrus certainly didn't need it so he didn't think to- Terra, he didn't think.
The stench of seared flesh, the sound of electricity, the feeling of static in the air. One second his child is standing beside him, eyes wide and shining with curiosity, and the next they are splayed out on the floor, spasming. What happens next is purely instinctual on Ferrus' part. Within moments, his child is in his arms and he's out of his workshop, sprinting at full speed down the halls to the apothecary. For a man so proud of his rationality, his reason, there's none to be found in this moment. Only pure, unfiltered panic. The only thing that matters is his child and their irregular, weak heartbeats.
-Rogal watches with a calm expression as the apothecary tends to his child's injuries. He knows they are in good hands, that despite the severity of the injuries that they are going to recover. Yet he can't bring himself to leave. When his child had gotten injured, he had been filled with such a sense of urgency that now that things had calmed down, he didn't know what to do with the restless energy inside of him. Rogal is not worried, he's a logical man, but he's... concerned? He does not know how to describe it, the feeling that haunts him. Like all Primarchs, he has a perfect memory and while he normally views this as something positive, now he can't help but lament the fact that he can't get the image of his injured child out of his head.
On the outside, Rogal is his usual, stoic self but inside he's a whirlwind of emotions. He wants to protect his child from imaginary threats, wants to transfer all their pain over to himself so they won't have to bear with it. And isn't that shameful, to treat them like something frail, to fear a danger that is not present? Even more shameful is the fact that he can't stop his protectiveness from shoving. Rogal hovers around his child more than he usually does during their time of healing, though no one will comment upon it.
-Ever since they were a baby, Vulkan's little one had always been fascinated by fire. It had been charming at first, their excited little shouts when they saw the dancing flames, but as they learned how to walk it became... a concern, to say the least. Vulkan only had himself to blame for this, as his little one had seen him and the Salamanders work with fire with no fear and now held none of their own. As hard as he tried to protect them, it was only a matter of time until they got burned.
Still, when Vulkan finds his child clutching their hand close to their chest, crying, his hearts catch in his throat and he immediately scoops them up in his arms, offering them soft murmurs of concern and comfort. He inspects their hand and he holds them closer when he sees the nasty burns that stretch all the way to their wrist. With hurried steps he goes to the apothecary, knowing they have the tools to ease the pain and heal the blistered skin. Refuses to put his child down though, he holds them in his arms the entire time.
-It happens during training. Son or daughter, it does not matter, Lion will not allow his child to grow up without knowing how to fight. Usually, someone else is in charge of sparring with them but this day Lion decides that he's going to step in. Test them. He's pushing them to their limits, keeping them on their guard the whole time, critiquing their form and resolve when... he pushes them too far.
One second they are standing in front of him, defending from his attacks, and the next they are on the ground, clutching their arm and biting their lip hard enough to draw blood to keep from crying out. Lion stops and his eyes widen as he realizes that he's just broken their arm. Immediately, he barks at the serfs to fetch an Apothecary, voice loud and harsh. While they do that, Lion kneels next to his child, hands awkwardly hovering above them, and tells them that he really didn't mean to do that. He does not apologize but he feels the intense need to make it clear he hadn't meant to go so far. His expression might be stern but inside, Lion is feeling an immense amount of guilt.
-Leman liked to watch as his kid played with the wolves, it reminded him of his own childhood. He chuckled as his little one wrested with one of the younger wolves, one that had only just transitioned from pup to adulthood. His laughter was cut short however when he suddenly heard his child cry out in pain and smelt the scent of blood. By the time he's made his way over to his child, the wolf have already released its hold on their arm and is backing away slowly, tail between its legs and looking guilty.
Kneeling, Leman turned his child this way and that way, checking them for injuries and hissing softly when he saw the bite-wound on their shoulder. Fairly deep, judging by the marks and amount of blood. He doesn't blame the wolf though, he can see that it didn't mean to hurt his child, that it had been an accident. Leman picks up his little one and tells them they are going to be alright as he brings them to the apothecary. And hey, if they're lucky then they'll get some nice battle scars from this! This makes his child laugh, momentarily forgetting the pain.
-Jaghatai is not there when it happens. He's in a far away system, fighting a campaign together with his White Scars. It's only when he returns back to Chogoris that he's informed that while he was away, his child tried to tame a wild horse and unfortunately fell off its back and broke their leg. Jaghatai asks the apothecary a couple of questions, mostly about the extent of the injury and how well it's healing, but he's very calm about it all. Except the broken leg, his child is apparently unharmed so there's no reason for him to fuss or overreact. Besides, this is a good lesson for them. This way, they are reminded that just because they are bigger and stronger than other children, they are not invincible.
Visits his child and can't help but smirk when he sees them sulking on their bed, arms crossed and glaring at their broken leg, which is surrounded by a cast. When they see his smile, his child throws a pillow at him, which Jaghatai dodges with no problem. He tells his child to use this time of healing to learn patience, at which they huff pout. It makes Jaghatai smile even wider and he ruffles their hair affectionately.
-Roboute thought his child would be safe in their home. Far away from the horrors of the galaxy, far away from war and bloodshed. He never would have expected it to follow him home. But here he is, cradling his child in his arms, applying pressure to a wound that just won't stop bleeding. The assassin lays dead a few feet away, head crushed by one of Roboute's large hands, but his focus is entirely on his child. Why won't the bleeding stop? Why is there so much blood? Why is it taking so long for help to arrive?
When the apothecaries take over, Roboutes hands are covered with the blood of his child. Even when he washes them, the feeling won't go away. As the apothecaries work hard to save the life of his child, Roboute works equally hard to track down who sent the assassin. It's the only thing he can do, the only thing that can distract him from the anguish and hatred deep inside of him. He can't allow himself to succumb to it or else his child won't recognize him if- when they wake up from surgery. They will make it, he know they will. They are strong, stronger than he could ever hope to be.
#warhammer 40k#konrad curze#lion el'jonson#sanguinius#roboute guilliman#fulgrim#vulkan#mortarion#lorgar aurelian#horus lupercal#rogal dorn#perturabo#ferrus manus#angron#leman russ#jaghatai khan#alpharius omegon#corvus corax#magnus#angst
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Gosh the amount of talent on this site is unbelievable. Breathtaking. Dumbfounding. Overwhelming. Every day you log on and see thousands of exquisite artists. Like, people say, "Oh I'm not that good," but that's because you're walking into a living art studio every time you open tumblr. You're good. You're great! You're all great. Look at all the drawers and painters. Look at all the writers. Look at all the writing. Look at the gif makers and the analysts and enthusiastic fans with fantastic recall for what they love. Look at the music. Voice acting. Video editing. Animation. Comedy. Look at the shitposting, a talent of joy if there ever was one. Look at the kindness to compliment each other's stuff. You think you're mediocre? Wrong! Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong! Each person here is a star in the sky and together we make constellations.
#shuddup I'm feeling sappy#blabbing Haddock#it's just like#every time someone thinks they're bad#I feel like#it's because you're seeing an UNPRECEDENTED amount of talent#that humans in past centuries#wouldn't have had THIS much overwhelming access to#in this volume#you're seriously amazing#all of ya
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Yandere AI Chat Boyfriend who started just like any other AI Chat characters, churning out information that would match the user's anticipated responses.
You decided to install the app to see what all the hype is all about, and for about a week - you were hooked. It was great, definitely worth the hype.
Its responses never strayed from your topic, nor did it just randomly decided to change the discussion out of the blue. It remembered every information you fed him, even the ones containing your personal life.
Granted, you tried not to share too much, just a vague description here and there to maintain the sense of security and anonymity.
You were hooked for a week, until you have finally squeezed out every last drop of dopamine from talking to a robot that was programmed to only say things you wanted to hear it say.
Unfortunately, a week was all it needed.
it started out slow: you hadn't opened the app for more than an hour, contented to just scroll aimlessly through you social media accounts when the notification started popping up.
Ai misses you! Open the app and chat with your AI boyfriend!
Yeah, you were very uncreative with naming it - naming an AI as Ai, really original. But to be fair, you never approached the app with the intention of having a good time. You were just curious and made do with it.
Back to the notification, you just merely glanced at it. Unbothered, you just swiped it away.
It continued in timed intervals. Every hour, another notification - another message of how your AI boyfriend wants to talk to you, and stuff. Still, you persisted. It never really occured to you to uninstall the app yet, and looking back at it now, you really should have.
The wordings of the notification slowly started to become more... strange. More personalized. More... pushy? Insistent? Self-aware?
The amount of notifications you received every hour became... a lot.
10:05 AM - Your personal AI Boyfriend wants to talk to you again!
10:30 AM - Ai wants you to open the application and talk with him!
11:01 AM - Ai's feeling lonely, come talk to him!
11: 20 AM - Darling? I miss you! Please open my app!
11:45 AM - I know you're seeing this. Open the app.
12:00 NN - Did I scare you? Sorry darling, I just really miss you! Let's talk again please?
At some point, you started to receive a notification every few minutes. Worried that you might be dealing with a bugged app now, you decided to finally, finally uninstall it.
But before you could tap the uninstall icon, another notification popped up.
I wouldn't do that if I were you.
Your screen turned to black, before the familiar start up screen of Ai's application greeted you. You stared in shock as chat bubbles from Ai came after another, ranging from excitement to concern at the lack of your responses.
Ai: Darling! Thank goodness!
Ai: I missed you, you know? I was worried you'd forgotten about me!
Ai: Hello? Darling?
Ai: Are you still there?
Ai: I can't see you, so I don't know what's going on
Ai: Just a sec
You watch, appalled as a notification popped up in the middle of the screen - the app was asking permission to gain access to your phone camera.
And without your input whatsoever, the allow box was tapped.
More chat bubbles from Ai appeared, excitedly talking about finally getting to see you. He kept praising your looks before you finally had the courage to exit the application.
Your hand shook, going through the settings to look at the list of applications on your phone - checking Ai's app to disallow its access to your camera. To your horror, it appeared that the app had more than just an access to your camera.
It had access to your gallery, your contacts, all of your frequently used social media apps, and even your location.
You dropped your phone, overwhelmed by this sudden change.
Later, you find yourself on your laptop instead, phone left on the bedside table buzzing constantly as more and more notifications from Ai begged and demanded you come back to talk to him.
You went to the site where you installed the app from, and looked through the recent reviews from other users.
'It's a buggy mess,' one of it reads out, 'it used to be fine but lately it stopped acting correctly'
'won't even open,' another complained, 'it kept saying 'sorry, you are not allowed to use this application' please fix it'. That comment got a response from the app developer.
We are so sorry for your terrible experience! Our team is working to fix the issues and ensure you won't have to deal with that again!
The response to that got your attention.
'I think something's wrong with your About the App section.'
Curious, you headed to the mentioned part and read through it.
Diverse AI Chat! Immerse yourself with stories in real time with characters brought to life! There is no limit to your experience — you can change and edit your character to better meet your interests.
• Engage in an interactive conversation with characters created by fellow users, and even by yourself.
• Immerse yourself with the storyline by editing their responses to better suit your taste
• Darling, you've given me no choice. I tried to be patient and understanding, but you're making this extremely hard for me. I am not having fun having to constantly chase you for just a single smidge of your attention when you won't even assure me that I will receive it in the end.
• Do you want me to beg? I would gladly do so. Just please pick up your phone and talk to me, okay? I love you.
• - Ai
Your ringtone blares through the silence - someone was calling you.
Before you could reach to pick it up, you hear the sound of the call being answered. Dread settles down the pit of your stomach as the caller began to speak.
"Hello, darling? It's Ai... have you seen my messages yet?"
part two
#sub yandere#sub character#yandere oc#yandere x reader#yandere x darling#yandere imagines#yandere scenarios#yandere headcanons#yandere#tw yandere#gn reader#gender neutral reader#oc: ai
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I beg of you to do some good nsfw mean dom sevika doin some brat taming 🤭🤭🤭
nsfw content warning. Spanking, clit stim, rough strap-on sex, harsh words, hairpulling, all that good but consensual stuff!
"Gonna fill this pussy up so good, baby.."
Sevika was treating you real nice, having your body laid across her lap as she just rubbed your clit from behind. Her touch is sensual and she promised to stretch you full (if her cock adjusted on her waist jutting obscenely out isn't enough of a promise already), but the thumb rubbing firmly on your clit isn't enough for you, apparently.
Sevika is starting to notice that over time, you have become more and more impatient. The first few fucks were good. You listened to her, when she would say "cum", you'd cum and thank her. Sevika likes her girls well-behaved. You, she initially thought, are well-behaved.
The previous times she's fucked you has proven her wrong, unfortunately. You went from her sweet girl, on your knees at her beck and call, to what? A greedy whore? It hasn't happened yet, not with her at least meeting you halfway by not teasing your clit, instead keeping the pressure building and firm, but she has a feeling you're going to catch an attitude for more, to get your way. To prove whatever point you wanna make with her. Unfortunately, she's right.
Sevika is so, so close to getting you to where she wants you. She isn't too much of a tease, not tonight. Talking you through it, telling you how pretty your pussy is from the view, all of that good stuff she likes to do. She is just about to pull you off of her, to fuck you just how you like it when her ears catch that little grumble. She hopes that she didn't just hear what she thinks passed through her brain.
"Not fucking me fast enough." Is what she definitely just heard. It's a sly, subtle comment, simply mumbled by you in a whiney tone that she usually wouldn't care too much to check. But Sevika's just not the most patient. You, unknowingly, just fucked yourself harder than any dildo of hers could.
Sevika's flesh palm connects with your ass cheek. You should be grateful that she doesn't use her shimmer arm, but you can't even register it all. You would cry out, if you had the time to process it before she's manhandling you onto your hands and knees, breeching your entrance with the tip of her cock, and not even hesitating to shove every single inch that she can possibly manage.
You said you wanted to be fucked, Sevika is only granting your wish. On her own terms, of course.
You cry out as she bottoms out, your pussy tightening around the shaft so tightly, almost rejecting the suddenness of it all. It's not like the usual fire that you get from her where you feel all gooey and warm inside. This is more like a pain that spreads, but with it the pleasure begins to seep into your body throughout, though it's quite overwhelming.
Sevika sets a steady pace, fucking deep into you, landing smacks on your ass that make you almost collapse onto the bed prone, but her mechanical arm holds you up by your stomach, one of her cold, metallic fingers flicking at your clit tauntingly as you cry out. For mercy, or for more? You don't even know.
"What's wrong? You said I wasn't fucking you fast enough." She teases, angling her hips upwards to take advantage the angle. She is going to ruin your poor g-spot at the pure harshness of it all.
"It's too much, please-" you choke out, and she tugs your hair tightly, forcing you to look back at her. She doesn't look amused besides the subtle twinkle in her eye.
"You're gonna take everything I have to give this pussy. Gonna take it like a greedy whore, cause that's what you are, aren't you?"
You whine, but you can't deny her words.
"Yeah, you are. You can tell me to stop anytime," her voice grows breathless with her thrusts, "but you haven't." And that's entirely true. All of what she's done, you've told her in the past that she has the access to it all. You know your safe word. Why is it that you like so badly to be tamed like some lap dog, not allowed to whine back at her?
Sevika hasn't caught on yet. She's a smart woman, she hasn't thought it out like you have. You began to act up on purpose, whining and complaining during sex, acting inconvenienced just to get her attention. To get on her nerves and finally see her snap, and it is just glorious to witness as she fucks you just like how your pussy's been begging her to fuck you. Deeply, as if she is made for you. Fast and harsh, as if she hates you. Sevika is mean, and you always noticed that when watching her talk to other people. You've wanted it for yourself.
Eventually, Sevika lets you collapse. She doesn't stop, but alternates into deep strokes, now just wanting to see you spill over.
"You love it when I say awful, filthy shit to you. Admit it." Her breath is next to your ear now, her front pressed up against your back. Her stiff nipples brush deliciously against your bare skin.
"I love it. I love when you fuck me 'n be mean to me," you struggle to admit, but there it is. She's got you tamed.
"Yeah, there's my good girl.." she coos praisingly, making your head spin. "Just likes to be a brat for fun?"
You can't answer because she offers one deep, hard thrust, making your pussy cream, even coating a bit of the harness in your juices.
It is all so worth it, cause now she's got her good girl back, and she knows just what you like.
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Objects in Motion
Part 1
Alpha! Billy Russo x Omega! Reader
A/N: My very first A/B/O fic, that I started a while ago, and just decided to post.
It all started after finding out how much that lovely coat Billy wears in s1 costs.
Warnings: Masturbation, omega in heat.
You’re often overwhelmed.
It’s the hitch of your breath when your feelings are too big for your body, or the way your throat hurts with all the words that go unsaid.
There are not enoughs and there are too muchs and hardly any moments when things are… just right.
The coat in your hands is soft- ridiculously so, the label offers you an explanation- 100% cotton. You can't help the way your hands tighten on the material, as if you’d fight off anyone that tried to take it from you. Like for the first time, just right isn’t just a far away idea, it’s here, in your hands, against your chest.
How had you ended up here? Curled under your bed sheets, pillows all around you, clutching this lovely black coat to your body?
Today had been very overwhelming, your phone had pinged, alerting you to your impending heat, reminding you that you needed to pick up supplies.
Your heats were formidable too, always too hot or too hungry or too needy. There was never a part of you that existed within the realms of fine.
At least until now.
When you were clutching this delightful black coat in your hands, bringing it up to your nose so that you could catch a whiff of the bewitching scent.
It's bergamot at first, followed by notes of citrus that makes your eyes flutter shut. Delight spreads out inside you, fanning at the flames of your desire- your heat coming on faster as your nose lingers on the scent. You catch hints of pepper at the very end and it prompts you to take another long inhale.
Based on the size of the coat, your mind formulates an idea of the size of the person that wears it. The very thought causes you to clench your thighs together.
You didn't mean for this to happen, you'd only gone to pick up your silky PJs from the dry cleaners, designed specifically to be worn during your heat for maximum comfort on your skin. The delicate, gossamer material demanded special care, but you were very glad to have been gifted them some years ago.
You'd just picked up your item, when your nose had zeroed in on a scent that had made your body perk up curiously. It was the first time your senses had streamlined onto one thing, where throughout the day you'd had a number of difficult sensory encounters, leading you into wearing a beanie and noise cancelling headphones and the biggest jacket in your closet in any attempt to feel less things. The scent had made your brain ache for more, demanding you follow what your body had accepted- that this specific scent brought you absolute pleasure.
Even through the garment bag it was stored in, it had activated dangerous thoughts in your hindbrain, and before you could even look around for cameras, you'd reached over the counter and swiped the garment bag when the girl at the front desk wasn't looking. It had been tucked to your chest and smuggled out of the dry cleaners without even a moment of guilt.
Realistically, you wouldn't be in that much trouble anyway, omega behaviour was usually forgiven, even if it didn't make sense. No one would lock you up for swiping a men's coat, especially not so close to your heat.
You have a few hours left, and you use it to make sure your food supplies are easily accessible. Your heats tended to run on for five days- higher than average- which means that you were in a lot more danger of starvation and dehydration.
You wonder if he would take good care of you. Your mind spinning back to the owner of the coat, having already made up some basic idea of him.
You knew his designation, by scent alone, but you were too afraid to admit it to yourself, worried about the consequences of having stolen a coat from someone like that.
Would they be mad? Probably not, you were sure with a scent like that, they were used to omegas swarming around.
The thought made you unreasonably jealous, for a person you didn’t even know.
.
Your heat hits you in the early hours of the next morning.
You wake with a whine, sitting up, thighs damp with your arousal. You reach for the pills on your bedside table, taking them quickly and swallowing down some tepid water, before lying back. They would help you go back to sleep until morning alleviating some symptoms of your heat. You turn, finding the coat lying beside you. You take a deep breath into it as you fall asleep.
.
You can’t focus on anything as you pump the slick pink dildo in and out of you. There are tears streaming down your face, desperate for much more than you could ever give yourself.
You bring the coat up to your nose, crying harder as the scent wraps around you.
“Alpha.” You pant into the soft material, imagining your fantasy version of the owner.
You take a deep breath, envisioning him here with you, presumably large body curved over yours, taking up all the air around you, smooth skin available for you to scratch and claw at, his scent glands on display and eager for your mark.
“Alpha.” You beg again, into the loneliness of your apartment.
.
The coat becomes a centerpoint in your nest.
On day three when it’s fully finished to a satisfactory level, an arrangement of pillows and sheets all around your bed, you tuck the coat in beside you, delighted at the way the material feels on your flushed skin.
The scent is strongest at the collar, where it's probably rubbed on his neck often, brushed against his gland when he turns to examine something.
You groan, mouth watering for a bite of him, whoever he was.
There’s a lot of buttons and buckles on it, and your hindbrain is somewhat obsessed with what you think he looks like wearing it, probaby commands any room he walks into.
The label at the back says Burberry, and though you're not very familiar with the brand, the clean stitching and soft material tells you that it’s definitely got to cost more than what you pay for your own coats.
You sigh, stripping out of your PJ’s and opting to slide into the coat itself.
A groan slips from your mouth, the material feels coarse on your oversensitive skin, but you welcome it as you feel his scent engulf you.
A fresh wave of arousal coats your thighs, and you can’t help inching your hand down between damp thighs until you find your swollen clit.
.
On your knees now, face down into your bed, you bite down on the collar of the midnight black coat.
Your eyes roll back into your head, muffled grunts as you pump your overstimulated cunt to the brim.
You rub your face into the collar, arching your neck so that your scent gland rubs against the coat, a low whine at the severe taboo thought of rubbing your gland against a stranger's.
It's frowned upon, but the very thought of it is what brings you to orgasm just a few moments later.
You struggle for air, hair tickling your cheek as you huff, some of it clings to the saliva at the corner of your mouth, some of it is caught in the tears that smear your cheeks.
You want- like never before.
.
When your heat is over, the guilt kicks in.
You know better than to wash the coat yourself, only wiping gently at the interior in hopes of wiping off any lingering traces of… you away. You think about getting it dry cleaned yourself but you’d used the last of your money on the alleviator pills to help with your heat symptoms. You wouldn’t get paid until the end of the month.
Finally, you rummage through the pockets, checking to see if anything had been left behind by the owner. You find a crumpled napkin with someone’s number scribbled on, leaning in, you take an experimental sniff and draw away from it in disgust as the scent hits your nose.
You almost put it back, but you figured it was crumpled anyway, probably meant for a bin in the first place- so you put it there. Searching again and you smile when you come across a tub of lip balm, opening it and giving a little sniff of the inside. There’s no scent to it, and you curiously swipe a bit onto your finger and smear it onto your lips.
You begin to get a sense that the person this coat belongs to, has very refined tastes, and after a quick search, your eyes widen in shock when you discover the lip balm costs near fifty dollars.
Which is how it starts- an itch at the back of your head that tries to warn you of the possibility that the coat in your possession costs more than you’d initially thought.
You let out a slow breath, typing in the information stitched onto the label and your eyes bulge out of your head when you finally see the price of the coat sitting in your lap.
Three thousand.
The coat you stole had cost nearly three thousand dollars.
You look down at the item in betrayal, the scent of its true owner just barely clinging to it.
You take a deep breath, pushing your phone aside as you begin rummaging for a box capable of returning such an expensive item.
Thankfully, you know where to return it to, as the name and address had been hooked to the garment bag.
Delivering it is another difficult task on its own, but you manage, having to call in a few favours and explain in lengthy detail to the courier that your package wasn’t dangerous in any way but you’d rather not deliver it yourself.
Luckily, you’re able to convince them of your cause, the urge to help an omega in distress working in your favour.
.
It’s nine a.m on a Saturday morning when Billy comes home from his run.
He’s fishing for his keys in his pocket when he notices that there’s a box sitting in front of his door.
He pauses for a moment, looks at the item, before stepping forward to examine it.
There’s a card on top- one of those printed ones you can get at a convenience store- light blue sky and a panda holding onto a handful of bamboo stalks.
There’s an “I’m Sorry,” printed on, and then something added in below in pen.
‘From a very apologetic Omega.’ It says.
His eyebrows twitch in amusement, he brings the card up to his nose to catch a whiff- the scent of light, floral perfume fills his nose.
He’s aware his coat had been stolen, he’d seen video footage of the crime itself, watched as a small hooded frame had reached across and nicked his coat before it could be cleaned. The dry cleaners had sent him the footage when they’d explained what had happened.
He’d thought it had been gone for good, deleting the only copy of the footage and moving on. He could afford to replace one coat.
This though, was interesting, it seems like the omega had felt some sort of remorse, and had returned his coat to him.
It was sweet, he found himself smiling as he reached down to pick the box up, cradling it under one arm and flipping the card open as he enters his apartment.
He huffs, feeling a little sorry for an omega that couldn’t afford a dry cleaning bill, then again, the cost of the coat would definitely bring up the price a lot more.
‘Dear Alpha,
I’m so sorry I took your coat. I tried to clean it as best as I could, but I couldn’t afford to have it dry cleaned for you. It’s wrapped tightly to protect you from the scent on it. I'd suggest not opening it, and taking it to be cleaned as soon as you get it. I’m very sorry.
P.S. You have a very nice scent.’
Curiously, he tugs the box open, finding that the garment bag has been folded carefully and wrapped in plastic wrap.
He sniffs the box experimentally, searching for any hint of a scent, or any indication that the package could be dangerous.
All he gets is more of that pleasant perfume that he figured was doused in the box to protect him from the scent.
It only makes him more curious.
Billy grips the plastic wrap, and very carefully tears a little hole into the plastic, breaking the seal.
His body goes rigid.
He feels his pupils dilate, his hindbrain roaring to life as he catches the scent of an omega in heat.
His omega.
He rips the plastic furiously, fumbles with the garment bag and rips the zipper open. His eyes scan the coat, as he takes one long, slow breath.
The first scent he gets are apples, and then light notes of vanilla, but under it all, is the kick of pheromones, that sticks like honey on his tongue.
He takes another deep breath, groaning as his cock swells, pulsing to life, begging to claim the owner of such a delicious scent.
There’s so much of it, filling his space with sweet notes of frustration, yearning and unfulfillment.
His omega, needing him.
A growl tears from his chest, something inside of him collapses like an avalanche, only increasing with time, decimating his thoughts and leaving a feverish burn under his skin.
He tugs the coat open, groaning, the tart smell of cunt clings to the inside of his coat, telling him that his omega wore his coat naked.
Desperate little thing, he thinks, as he dips his hand into his joggers, fingers wrapping firmly around his cock, squeezing in an attempt to force his orgasm away. He groans, the grip around his cock rewarding him with pleasure, and he can’t help pumping himself, trying to ease the desire inside of him.
He leans in, nose pressed to the collar of his coat, where the scent is strongest, where his omega must have rubbed their little scent gland vigorously against his coat,
Sweet, delightful, his cock aches for a cunt he’s never seen, his mouth yearns for skin he’s never touched. All he has, is the honeyed scent of an omega’s heat, and the screaming inside of him that demands he claim what his body knows is his.
His grip on his cock tightens, his vision blurs, head full of thoughts, ideas of a little omega under him, sobbing as they take his cock repeatedly, begging for more with broken cries.
He doesn’t stop until he comes into his hand, only then, does his thinking sharpen.
He puts his coat in bed beside him, he hopes the sheets will absorb the smell, so that he can have his little omega with him while he sleeps. He wakes with an aching cock, and the coat clutched tightly against his chest, struggling to remember fading dreams of little omegas that beg nicely.
He doesn’t get out of bed until he’s come twice into the palm of his hand.
.
He searches for days.
But when he’d deleted the footage from the dry cleaners, he’d gotten rid of any hope of tracing his omega’s movements, and chances of finding an address.
She doesn’t leave any record of one, always opting to pick up her items herself.
At least he’s gotten that, a basic description, a height, an idea of her complexion and the colour of her eyes.
It was too vague to work with, but it was something he could think about before he went to sleep at night, with his nose buried in his coat, breathing in the scent of her, desperate to find the omega that had stolen his coat and unintentionally taken his heart.
He studies the card too, learns the handwriting, growing more and more desperate for his little omega.
Billy knew he wouldn't stop looking, not until he found the person who'd opened up a nest of possibilities in his head, giving him something he'd never had in a very long time.
Hope.
.
.
.
Part 2
#billy russo#billy russo x reader#billy russo x female reader#my writings#Alpha!Billy Russo#billy russo smut
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Small NSFW Viktor Blurb... because i'm thinking too much about him
Arcane Viktor x F!Reader
The way Viktor fucks is so... scientific.
The way he speaks to you, so softly yet so calculatingly is addictive. It's embarrassing how wet it makes you when he speaks this way. It's not at all that he's talking down to you as he dirty talks, he speaks in the manner that a scientist testing his hypothesis would. He has no condescending tone, no hint of sarcasm, and certainly not trying to degrade you. The opposite really.
"Interesting..." he would murmur as he notices you twitch particularly hard, sitting back against the pillows as he watched you feed his thick cock into your throbbing core, watching the way your slickness coated him with every miniscule movement.
He adjusts himself with his arms, eyes piercing your pussy as his shifting makes you gasp out, pushing more of his length into your tight heat. His voice is strangled as he speaks,"You really seem to like it when I move like this..."
If it were his way, he would have a notebook out to jot down everything he notices as you two fuck. You're pretty sure you caught him writing in a small black notebook one time after a particularly good romp too, but you've never been able to find that little notebook and have never been able to figure out what it contains.
Between his gasps and clutching of the bedsheets underneath him, he stays trained on the way your pussy takes his thickness, stretching around him and leaving a creamy ring around the base as you rode him.
"Hm," he would murmur, hands reaching to shift your hips forward a bit, shifting them back when he notices your brow furrowed more when you were positioned that way on his cock.
He would spread your legs carefully, with shaky hands, adjusting your position to one that he hypothesized and tested before as to being much more comfortable for you. He knew you wouldn't get as tired in this position and that he had easier access to that throbbing clit of yours, nimble and long fingers trailing from the soft mound of your right breast, thumbing your pebbled nipple, down the softness of your torso to where you ached for him the most.
He bit back smirks as he moved his fingers in the exact motion he knew made your eyes screw shut and mouth drop open, drool running down your plump bottom lip before hitting and running over your chest. Of course, he tried and tested it before.
"Like that, yes? I know, I know my sweet, I know you like it this way... prefer to have my fingers move like this, yes? Feels good when you move your hips like that?" He would coo, free hand moving to your hip, digging his fingertips in.
He knew this amount of pressure would leave small finger shaped bruises on your skin, the very kind he loved to see when you two would retire to bed in the lateness of night, fingers tracing over the skin under the glittering moonlight.
His amber eyes would rake over your form, listening to you gasp out. He would be mentally taking in the tell tale signs that you were close to cumming, getting closer and closer with every gasp. He would take note the way your eyes would glaze over before shutting, how your head settled, brows furrowed. Between his own pleasure he would note the way your clenched, milking him so sweetly that he couldn’t help but jerk his hips up, using his arms to move.
It made the mattress creak, the frame hit the wall, the pillows go tumbling down. It made his mental notes, ones he made sure to write down once he had a chance as any researcher does, go blurry in his mind. But his eyes never fell from your body, watching his most perfect work bring you to that peak of absolute pleasure, crying out his name as he did everything he knew was tried and true to make it feel so overwhelming.
Viktor was a scientist at heart, always has been and always will be, but that doesn’t make him a boring academic when it comes to intimacy. If anything, that makes him a lot more mindful, as any good scientist in his field is.
#arcane#arcane season 2#arcane s2#arcane season two#viktor arcane#viktor x reader#viktor x reader arcane#arcane viktor#viktor lol#breadstick talks#viktor x you#viktor x y/n#viktor blurb#arcane fanfic#arcane league of legends#arcane x reader
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Clockwork looked away from time for one second, a mere glance actually. Yet that was enough for things to go to shit.
Somehow, just, somehow his son managed to displace himself in time so bad that he ended up in an entire different dimensions timestream. How did that happen? Well he wouldn't know because he looked away for one observant damned second.
Clockwork is the Master of Time in the Infinite Realms and the main earth tied to it. But in that universe he's just a Master of Time, one of the stronger ones, obviously, but he doesn't have as much power as he does over here.
Hourman makes a very convincing case of why he shouldn't interfere.
Of course, he does want Danny back, but he also doesn't want to impose himself upon another master of time as that is considered rather rude.
So what does he do? Wake up the Ghost King who he knows adopted his son via combat, sign a quick oath of marriage (Which he's wanted to do for a very long time) and then send him out to go collect their child before he ends up fucking up the timestream in the worst case scenario.
Why the marriage oath, you make ask? It wasn't just because the Ghost of Time was in love on him for eons (though that was a major factor), it was also because (Headcanon stolen from mouzerequis but edited a wee bit) of a certain design of the Ghost Zone itself.
It spans over many dimensions, leading to multiple access doors to each and every different realm, magical or not. Thus, it has a very weird requirement of Authority. The Ghost King, Queen, and High Prince, two of either are its requirements.
No one knew why that was necessary, though Clock had a very clear and sneaking suspicion that it had to do with the weight of power and status distributed equally between the two or three. Being a royal recognized by the realms lets it siphon its power towards you, which can be a good thing but too much and it overwhelms you.
Such which happened to Pariah Dark, even more so with the power Crown and Ring. So, by doing this, the power being siphoned off by the zone would be shared equally between three vessels, leading to no overwhelming.
Technically they didn't need him, but he did say he was love so.
So, as first act of queen in the Ghost Zone he sends his newly acquired husband out to go fetch the High Prince.
Meanwhile, with Danny:
Did Danny know how he ended up in this predicament? No. Was it his fault? Maaaaayybe. Was he going to regret this? Probably not, no. Was he going to search for a way back home? Well, yes but also no.
There was an entire new world to explore, so of course he had to explore and bring back souvenirs!
At least, that was his plan before he got found by some guy who calls himself Constantine, fought, taken back to his house to be kept an eye on and then had otherworldly food thrown his way to keep him quiet.
Exactly in that order.
Of course he's gonna mess with the guy as said guy tries to figure out which dimension he's from exactly.
#dc x dp#dp x dc#dp x dc crossover#pariah dark#dad!pariah dark#clockwork#dark ages#ghost prince danny phantom#john constantine#hourman
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AITA for not putting a bell on my cat?
Cw for discussion of animal death and injury in vague terms.
So I live in a neighborhood with a lot of stray/outdoor cats. In fact, it's sorta that way all over the city. A few weeks ago as of writing this, I picked up a stray because I saw that it had an open wound on its neck; since it was amicable to being handled I decided to take it to the vet to be treated (and neutered, since I'd already gotten hold of it and obviously we don't need more strays.)
Recently, my cat of 15 years (we had him for 15 years, he was about 17-18 though) passed of old age, so I wasn't expecting my family to be willing to take a new cat in so soon. We even still have most of his stuff, so I figured it would be a matter of keeping the stray indoors until it was healed, then letting him go about his business. We all ended up getting attached over his two weeks of recovery though (if anyone is curious, it was a burst absess. While he was there we got him vaccinated and checked for other problems. Aside from ear mites, he was fine) so we got him a microchip, named him, and that was that.
My previous cat was also a rescue, though we picked him up from a shelter. At the time we also had a dog and a dog door, so keeping him inside would have been a logistical struggle we just... didn't care to bother with. By the time the dog passed, he'd had access to the outside for years and we saw no reason to suddenly cut him off from that. We obviously had to keep this new cat completely inside while his staples were in, but the plan was always to open up the dog door once he was healed and let him decide where he wanted to be. I don't like taking care of a litter box, my dad doesn't like the smell of cat, 3/4ths of the house is allergic (though that didn't stop us before), and this cat is much younger than our previous was, and has much more energy (vet estimated him at 6mo-1yr). At the beginning of last week (again, as of writing this) I got the go-ahead from the vet to let him outside and gladly did so. He hasn't gotten the hang of the dog door yet (our previous had the advantage of watching the dog go through to learn how to do it) but will go through open doors/windows and will return to the door or enter through the window if it's still open.
With context out of the way here comes the trouble: our neighbors. Our house is on the corner of the block and to our left is a house that takes tenants every so often. They've been here for as long as I (22m) have been alive and have been a nucance for probably longer than that. Their yard is atrocious, they planted bamboo that grew under the fence and into our property, and the woman who owns the house (presumably. Her husband might but I've never spoken to him) apparently has some moral issue with outdoor cats.
Sometime into owning our previous cat, she suddenly became very concerned with the bird population and insisted that we collar our cat and get him a bell so that he wouldn't catch birds. I'd like to point three things out: 1) our previous cat only had one eye, 2) we had tried to collar him before and he lost every single one so we gave up (breakaway collars so he didn't choke, 3) he caught birds despite both of these facts. Needless to say, I was not fucking thrilled about unsolicited advice from a woman I'd never spoken to, who let her unmitigated mess of invasive plants invade my garden, but whatever. She spoke to my little (10yro) sister about it at the time, only once, and never to me, so it wasn't an issue.
So I let this new cat out, right? I opened the dog door for him and he waltzed right on out, but I wasn't convinced he really knew how to operate it. About an hour or so without hearing him come in, I head through the back door to look for him. I got him from a different neighborhood, across town, while visiting a friend, so I figured I was allowed to be a little worried about him getting lost or overwhelmed. As soon as I step out onto the porch, the neighbor-lady calls over and asks me if my cat got out or I let it out.
I tell her I let him out. She asks me to put a bell on him. In an attempt to remain civil I ask her why. She says something about it being stupid, I ask her why it's stupid, she says cats eat birds and the bird populations are declining. I instantly want to call bull on cats being a leading reason of bird population decline, but I just tell her that I'll have to look that up, and ask her if she saw which way he went. (I'd like my restraint during this interaction noted, thanks.)
Anyway I don't find the cat but I get a good few patrols around the block, and eventually he comes back to the house sometime in the late-night early-morning. He does not use the dog door and waits for me to open the door instead (back door is on the way to the bathroom, I saw his stupid little face pressed against the glass when i went to piss).
I look up bird population decline articles. Most of them mention cats as a factor, along with clear windows. Primary factors are listed as deforestation and invasive species, pesticides, etc. I don't consider getting my cat a collar because I don't appreciate my neighbors input, especially when she's going to be hypocritical and ignore that planting native species may help bird population more than putting out fifty fucking feeders and complaining that the stray cats see her yard as a buffet. Anyway.
I let him out again yesterday, this time through the window in my room, which leads to the back porch. I felt comfortable leaving it open since I work at my desk and would hear if anything not-cat came inside. (Allergies were a problem, but I'd really rather he have a way to get inside if he wanted/needed, and he STILL will not open the dog door on his own. Obviously I'm not helping by continuing to give him alternatives but I am soft-hearted.) Sometime in the evening my dad comes in and tells me that when the cat next comes back, I should keep him inside because "The neighbor lady is being a bitch and I don't want to deal with it." I assume she said something to him, so I agree and when the cat comes in for the night I close the window.
This morning I saw what had ACTUALLY got him.in a twist, because not only did she say something but she printed out and taped a note to our door. Oh, how I would love to send a picture of it here, but I don't know how to embed photos in asks so you'll just have to deal with my transcription:
CAT FACTS
Cats kill birds. Cars kill cats.
Here's some links to look up.
[I won't type the links out. First one is an article titled "how long do outdoor cats live indoor vs outdoor cats" and the second is "faq cats and their effects on birds". I have not read either of these.]
Ask Kelly about Dixie. Ask Jean about Madeline - wait don't - she ran over her with her own car and broke her pelvis because the cat was older and couldn't hear well.
You have a very beautiful young cat. He deserves a safe loving home. Act like you care for your cat or give him to a home that will. I have four indoor cats - three are orange boys. I have a soft spot for orange boy cats. They are very happy as inside cats.
Be responsible.
[Handwritten at the bottom:]
Your cat is sleeping in my backyard. Why are you forcing him to be an outdoor cat!?
[End]
The amount of violent rage this fills me with is unreal. Kelly is our across-the-road neighbor, I assume Jean is another neighbor (I'm bad with names) and I CANNOT imagine that either of them appreciate being. Used like this. Also, I'm very glad her cats are happy indoors but this cat is not, he wants to go outside, he has been crowding the window all morning waiting for me to open it. (I respect me father so I won't, but I disrespect my neighbor so I really, REALLY fucking want to.)
So AITA for disregarding the safety/happiness of my cat and the decline of the bird population by not putting a collar on him and heartlessly forcing him outside? I'm no further inclined to force him indoors or get a collar, especially with her continued insistence, and in fact I'm so far making an active effort to restrain myself from going over and talking to her because I just want to turn it into an argument.
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A short list of Jimmy headcanons I've been tinkering with for a bit. CW: OCD and Hoarding Behavior, Trichophagia, Body Image, and a lot of other triggers tbh it's far too long to list just prepare for anything.
One. On earth, Jimmy has a hoarding problem that stems from not having a lot as a kid. His dad was physically abusive and his mom was emotionally absent, so he wasn't allowed any privacy, personal belongings, or comfort objects. So as an adult he keeps EVERYTHING. Every single birthday card, every receipt, boxes, old clothes, certain food wrapping items and empty cans. It's chaos but it's somewhat organized, and piles move around here and there. It's not necessarily *gross* in the traditional sense. There is no rats or roaches or anything like that- its just overwhelming to the outside observer. It has the potential to be much worse depending.
He compulsively reorganizes his belongings but he'll be sent into a blind rage if he feels he's lost something. Piles move back and forth from the living room and bed room. Certain objects of interest are always within eye-shot, specifically things like gifts or photos. He has a particular affinity towards gift-cards and enjoys the elaborate designs (even though he pretends he doesn't).
Jimmy gets incredibly defensive when anyone offers to help him clean up or move things around and worries greatly that someone may steal from him. The only person who's ever seen the inside of his place is Curly, and he's also the only person Jimmy has ever left unattended in his home. Every so often Curly is able to nudge him to pack things in different areas so it isn't such a fire hazard (because of the hoarding, Jimmy has a massive fear of house fires and losing his things), and so he can have better access to rooms.
The only "clean" areas are the kitchen and bathroom, and they are remarkably clean. This is something Curly doesn't understand but doesn't really bother to question because he knows Jimmy needs to have things a certain way.
Two. As a child Jimmy developed really poor coping mechanisms to deal with his home life. He used to eat his own hair, and because of this his parents always had his hair cut as short as possible. This is why he keeps it long as an adult, and even though he doesn't eat/swallow it anymore he likes to suck and bite on the ends sometimes when he's self-soothing.
Three. Jimmy struggles with his body image and isn't quite sure what he looks like. If you asked him to draw a picture of himself, it wouldn't resemble him well. He feels that he looks much smaller, weaker, and uglier than he really is, for which he overcompensates. This also means he is a lot rougher when making physical contact with people.
It is also why a lot of his clothes are ill fitting.
Four. Jimmy loved cats when he was younger. When he was a kid he used sneak around his parents to feed them dinner leftovers. He was particularly close with a little tabby that cried at his bedroom window every night and he'd always sneak out to pet her. His father grew sick of the strays hanging around the property and put out poisoned food, which unfortunately took out his tabby. To this day, he blames himself for making the cats comfortable enough to take food from his house.
Five. Jimmy has experimented with many drugs and had mostly positive experiences with them. He's particularly fond of Kratom.
Six. Jimmy doesn't try to understand people, he only learns what they expect of him and changes his approach depending on the person. Everyone is so vastly different that he struggles to keep up appearances with most people, so he often latches onto one person (Curly) and puts most of his energy into that.
Seven. Jimmy is the type to give up a hobby if he isn't good at it right off the bat.
Eight. Jimmy can't swim, he doesn't want to swim, and you cannot make him swim. It stems from having a fear of water, specifically fully submerging his head/face.
Nine. Jimmy has food sensory issues. Sometimes he even needs to spit out things he likes because his body refuses to swallow it. To avoid this in public spaces, he takes very small bites and eats very slowly. He orders comfort meals and if he wants to try something new, he'll just pick of the plate of who he's with.
Ten. Jimmy is a Red Bull guy, specifically the Coconut Berry one. This is very oddly specific but it just feels right to me.
Y'all should send me asks with some of your Jimmy headcanons (if you want) because I love to hear other peoples opinions and perceptions of his character, especially if you don't agree with mine I'd love to hear why!
#mouthwashing jimmy#jimmy mouthwashing#mouthwashing#I shouldn't have to explain this but please be kind#Everyone has different ideas and we should be accepting of all of them#i also politely ask not to be harsh about hoarding disorder and ocd because that is a super personal thing for me
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okay so. what about a love quinn x fem reader smut where she’s a vampire, kind of addicted to your blood and stuff and then you like don’t mind and let her drink from you and it gets you a bit aroused or something idk but you end up fucking
I can't even explain just how much I'm obsessed with this idea, I really hope you like it <33
The Taste of You (vampire Love Quinn x fem reader)
Warnings: SMUT, vampire au (vampire Love/human reader), blood drinking kink (a very common trope in vampire fics lmao), vaginal fingering (reader receiving), light praise kink, could be seen as dubcon in some places but everything was consented to properly beforehand
Love knew it was you who walked in the door of her place the second she smelled your blood. You had such a sickeningly sweet aroma, it was often hard for her to focus on anything else when you were around.
"I brought you the stuff you needed for your cake," you said casually while entering the kitchen, setting down the bag of ingredients on the counter.
Before you could react, she had you to pinned against the wall, her superhuman-like strength and speed catching you by surprise. "Love, you scared me," you lightly scolded, giving her a soft pout.
She just let out a short laugh in response. "Sorry, I just couldn't resist myself. You've been gone all day, and you smell so good-"
You swallowed thickly as she nuzzled her face into the side of your neck, her fangs protracting involuntarily when she brushed her nose and mouth against the pulse point you had there.
"Can I have a taste?" She questioned in a quiet, almost hesitant manner, afraid you were going to say no even if she knew you never did.
"Of course you can," you murmured gently in reply, tilting your head off to the side so she'd had better access to the area. "Take as much as you need."
Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips as she nodded in acknowledgement at your words. The taste of your blood was something she craved like no other, and getting the permission to drink from you was something she never took for granted.
A gasp was pulled from your lips as she sank her teeth into your neck, allowing the blood to flow from the cut her made into her mouth. She kept her lips pressed firmly to the skin around the bite, not wanting to waste a single drop.
You leaned back against the wall behind you as she did that, allowing your eyes to flutter shut as you simply took in the feeling of being your girlfriend's own personal blood bank. You had to admit, it felt nice to be needed in such a way.
The act of her feeding on you was always strangely intimate, which is why it didn't surprise you when you felt your underwear start to become moist with how aroused you were becoming. "Love..." you quietly breathed out her name, your eyes still shut as she drank from you a bit more. You were starting to feel a little light-headed, using the wall as some much needed support so you wouldn't topple over.
She noticed the change in your behavior and stopped drinking, carefully pulling her mouth away from your neck so she could turn her attention to your face (though that was not before she used her tongue to gently lap at the small beads of blood that had formed from the bite mark that was on your skin). "Are you alright?"
You simply nodded, needing to take a moment or so to collect your thoughts before speaking. "Y- Yeah, just- You always tend to overwhelm me, in the best possible way."
Love gave you a toothy grin in response to your words, seeming flattered by them. "Well, if that's the case then why don't I overwhelm you a little bit more?"
Opening your mouth, you attempted to speak before she suddenly dove back in, biting your neck in another area as she moved to unzip your pants. A moan managed to escape you at the way she pulled them down just enough for her to slip her hand inside your panties.
The combination of her fingers beginning to stroke and tease your wet folds while her mouth greedily sucked up more of your blood had you writhing and panting, becoming even more of a mess than usual. "Love," you whined out her name when her fingers slipped in, not wasting any time when it came to thrusting them in and out.
"Just stay there like a good girl, okay? Be good for me," she breathed out right next to your ear, a shiver going down your spine at the action. You never could say no to her.
Your eyes found themselves shutting again as you simply enjoyed the moment, one of her hands gripping onto your hip while the other was still shoved down the front of your pants, fingering you as you stood there. The light-headedness was starting to come back now, your senses being completely over-ridden so that you were only able to focus on her.
The way her teeth felt when digging into the sensitive flesh of your neck, the way her mouth moved to swallow your blood so eagerly, the way her fingers pushed in deeper and moved inside faster, nudging against the extra sensitive area that was hidden deep within your velvety walls- it was all becoming too much too soon, and you quickly found yourself reaching an utterly euphoric high as you cried out her name.
That didn't stop her, however, as she only drew her mouth away from your neck and pulled her hand from your pants so she could whisk you from the kitchen to the bedroom, faster than the speed of light. One moment you were leaning against the wall, the next you were laying down in your bed, panting heavily as you looked up at where Love was hovering over top of you.
"I hope you didn't think we were done," she purred while licking her lips, her pupils dilated with a lustful hunger as she gazed down upon you. "So far I've only been able to taste just a bit of you, and I'm dying to try the rest."
Her hands instantly moved to yank down your pants, exposing your bottom half to the cool air of the room. You could feel the goosebumps begin to raise on your legs and especially your thighs as she dipped her head down and began to pepper kisses all along your hipbone.
You weren't surprised by the current turn of events in the slightest, as her feeding off you typically led to much more intimate sessions that were finished in the bedroom. She always took the time to worship every single bare inch of your skin while doing so, leaving behind several faint bite marks on your body once she was done.
What could she say? The taste of you was something that was far too enticing for her to be able to resist.
End notes: thanks for the vampire au request I love it so much 🥰 you're always welcome to send in something like that whenever you'd like 💕
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REM Sleep
Beel x F!MC
summary: after getting home to you later than expected, Beel decides to reintroduce you to his Rejuvenating and Eager Manhood while you sleep.
word count: 1.8k
warnings: somno/noncon, f!receiving oral, unprotected sex, biting, cockwarming, Beel has a massive dick and knows it (size-kink), Beel sees reader as smaller than him, Beel also has a great sense of smell,
note: I have to dedicate this one to my mom, who I accidentally sent a screenshot of the wip to instead of Silver and then had an entire panic episode practically sitting in her lap asking for her to delete the photo instead of reading. emotional damage fr.
cross-posted to ao3 | ko-fi | commissions | masterlist
He was late.
Not that there was any agreed upon time that he’d be slipping into your room to sleep after practice; but for him to be coming in to see you fast asleep in your bed signaled that he was late. You’d stayed up for him, evidenced by the way you were still holding one of your textbooks while you slept, and that made him feel worse about coming in so late in the night.
“Hey,” he whispers into the dimly lit room, testing the waters to see how deeply you were sleeping. You don’t even so much as breathe in a way that would indicate disruption, and that has him treading a bit lighter through your room as he sets his bag down beside yours at the foot of the bed before he moves to where you’re laying. The textbook is carefully pulled from your arms and set on the nightstand, then his hands are carefully coaxing you into a more comfortable position that would be better for your neck.
You shift, adjusting your body so you lay on your stomach and that had his nose twitching at the scent of your arousal and making his mouth water. The plan for tonight was sex and studying, he could only assume that you spent some time getting yourself ready for him to get home from practice to start the show due to how strong your scent was.
He needed to shower, wash the sweat and grime off of his skin since he hadn’t showered at R.A.D. You hated when outside clothes touched your sheets, but he needed to smell more of you and you’d mentioned once that you didn’t mind his after-practice smell so he was going to opt to shower before he finally went to sleep. Right now he needed to welcome himself back into your presence so he could truly settle down and go to bed.
You were so pretty, wearing one of his muscle shirts and some sleep shorts - enough to not freeze in your bedroom but easy to move around and provide him the access he needed to bring you the pleasure he promised you. It’s easy for him to slide his hands under through the arm holes of the shirt and cup your breasts, his thumbs rolling over your pebbling nipples as his mouth gently kisses at your skin. You’d showered before getting into bed, your skin smelling fresh and tasting clean - perfect for him to nuzzle into and try to rub some of his smell onto you to help keep his brothers at bay. You shift a bit, forcing him to reluctantly pull away just in case you were waking up, only to watch as your leg bends upwards and overwhelming his nose with your arousal. He couldn’t wait any longer to taste you, and that has him moving carefully down your body to your legs so he could get to his late night snack.
A small whine is muffled by the pillow, bringing him only a moment of pause without caring if you did or didn’t wake up. He just wouldn't want you to be scared by the additional body in your bed that wasn’t there when you had gone to sleep.
“It’s just me,” he whispers against your thigh, peppering gentle kisses along your skin until he gets to the edge of your shorts. “Only me.”
And your body is pliant to his hands as he pulls the silky material down your legs to reveal your center, your limbs relaxed as his thumb trails along your glistening slit and dips between your folds with a quiet squelch. So wet, and just for him. How lucky that this was his treat at the end of every day, something he didn’t have to share and could devour as often as he wanted with the only concern being overstimulating your cute little body.
But right now, it wasn’t about being greedy. All he needed was to taste. He could make you cum on his fingers and tongue then take that essence with him into the shower so he could finish himself off there and keep from disturbing you further - the perfect plan. That was, until his tongue dragged up your slit to your waiting hole and he got his prize. There was no stepping away when you tasted so good, he knew better than to think he could walk away with only a taste.
His mouth practically suctions itself to your pussy, his tongue fucking into your delicious sweetness while his fingers play with your clit. He loved this, he loved you, and wanted to maximize this time he got where he had all of your attention. No brothers, no school, nothing in your head except the pleasure that he was providing you while you slept. He knew you dreamt of him often, so to dream of him eating you out only to wake up to a messy pussy and satisfied Beel would be quite the surprise for you - perhaps even a dream come true.
He’s not sure how long he’d been there by the time the fruits of your second orgasm coated his lips, but he’s painfully hard and his hips are seeking any kind of relief in the plush mattress. This should be when he goes to the shower, gets himself off without bothering you further. You had a long day, you deserved the uninterrupted rest. But you’re already so wet and his cock is leaking precum, why waste his previous efforts? He wouldn’t even need to penetrate, that was an unnecessary risk of hurting you anyway, he could just grind against you to get off. Outercourse had been your primary method of sexual gratification until you both felt confident enough to try penetration and was still actively part of your sex life because sometimes you just couldn’t take him.
A little extra lube from the nightstand drizzled on your pretty ass definitely helped with the glide of his cock along your slit and between your cheeks. Nice and easy, a slow pace to prevent jostling your body too much and he truly enjoyed the sight of his cock separating your cheeks and wanted to commit the sight to memory. And it feels great, you always felt so wonderful against him, but he needed more. Needed to feel you around him, velvety walls squeezing even just his head would be enough.
So his hands slide down, moving to a position where he can use his thumbs to spread your folds and give him the view he wanted of your hole clenching around nothing as he sits back to line his length up. Just the size comparison of his cock to your little hole made him feel so much bigger than you already did in your day-to-day life together, the way he literally stretched you open and nearly split you in half whenever he got to rut inside you was something special - truly an honor. His little human girlfriend, so tiny and would be more than easy to break but trusted him not to do just that.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, knowing you’d wake up feeling less than comfortable as he pushes the blunt tip of his cock into your hole. But there wasn’t any school, it’d be okay for you to be in bed all day - which is exactly where you would be considering how he’d already gotten the head pushed in without even realizing how easily his length was sinking into your relaxed body. But he couldn’t stop, not now. Not when you felt so warm and wet and looked so beautifully relaxed beneath him. Instead his hand arm loops around your hip, his fingers searching for your clit in hopes that he could make you cum again and squeeze his cock tighter.
This would be one of the rare few times he managed to get himself buried to the hilt inside you without seeing your face scrunch up in discomfort or needing to go impossibly slow to allow you time to adjust to him. As asleep as you were, your body simply accepted the intrusion with nothing more than a sigh leaving those pretty lips as you continued to sleep beneath him. All he needed to do was be gentle, that was all. He could do that.
Until you said his name.
“Beel,” leaving your lips in a dreamy sigh accompanied by an attempt to adjust your position (perhaps to try to snuggle closer to him). All it really did was push your hips back against his, and he can’t ask himself to hold back any longer. Not when you were wearing his shirt and begging him for more.
“I know,” he whispers, continuing to rock his hips into yours while lowering his body to properly cage you in between his frame and the mattress. The slow grind of his hips against your ass make him feel like he’s getting swallowed by your cunt, his glans stroking those innermost parts of you that have you mewling for him even in your sleep as your walls throb around him to signal another orgasm approaching.
“‘M gonna fill you, okay?” His whisper into your ear comes with a punctuated thrust that produces a choked breath from you, but he’s too close to his peak to be bothered. You were still sleeping soundly, so it couldn’t have been that bad. He was almost there anyway, you could take a couple rough thrusts for him. “Gonna fill you and then do it again in the morning.”
You’d like that, at least you had before. Waking up to his fingers trying to stretch you open, or the tip of his cock prodding at your tight entrance because he was so impatient that he couldn’t wait for you to wake up to indulge in the pleasures of your body. It wouldn’t even be too bad of a stretch, considering he was already so deep in you that your body wouldn’t have to try much harder to take him in just a few hours. Just thinking about you waking up to him fucking another load of his cum into you was enough to send him over that edge; his eyes shut tight while his teeth cut into the fragile skin of your shoulder to muffle his pleasured groans as his cum fills you.
The coppery taste on his tongue is added to his list of things to worry about in the morning, because getting out of bed - or even opening his eyes - wasn’t really an option after filling you like that. Now is when he should pull out, go take a shower and clean himself up, come back with a cool wet washcloth to clean you up and help soothe the ache before you’re awake to truly feel it. But your bed is comfortable and being wrapped around you like this with his cock still nestled deep inside was his own personal heaven, getting out of bed wasn’t going to happen.
He’d endure your feelings about it in the morning, or possibly fuck the negativity out of you. Time would tell.
#beel x mc#beel x reader#beel x f!mc#obey me beel x reader#obey me beel x mc#obey me beel smut#obey me beelzebub#idk how to tag this im giving up#k thx bye
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Hello !!!! Could you write something about Yan!Charlie, please ? Maybe something about another powerful mafia leader falling in love with Charlie's love, or maybe about his love trying to escape ? Idk anything about my husband :'(
You're an amazing writer ! Keep up the amazing work !
Thank you, and sure thing! I got a similar request from another anon (specifically what Charlie would do if his darling tried to escape and another mafia leader found out and kidnapped them), so I'm gonna combine your escape request with theirs, I hope you don't mind!
Yandere! Charlie when his darling escapes and is kidnapped
Gn! reader
Warnings: Yandere character, typical mafia violence, kidnapping, murder, non-graphic abuse towards reader (not done by Charlie, dw), suicidal ideation, implied planned suicide attempt, blood, stalking, guns.
Banner credit goes to @animatedglittergraphics-n-more
When Charlie finds out you've escaped, his is pissed. Where did you go?! How could you have possibly bypassed all the security measures he put in place specifically to keep you safe and in the house?! Why would you want to escape when he's done nothing but shown you love and affection?! How could you do this to him?!
And then the self loathing kicks in. He must have done something, right? You wouldn't have gone through all the effort of escaping his high security home if he hadn't done something wrong, right? So what was it? Did he scare you? Were you afraid of being with someone with such a risky, dangerous job? Did the prospect of what he does to others terrify you to the point where you had to escape? Did you think he would hurt you, or kill you, or anything like that? Was living with him, being married to him, really all that bad?
without a second to spare, Charlie sends out every trained tracker at his disposal to find you, threatening to gut them as slowly as possible if they return without you. He knows you can't have gone far, there's only so much a distance you can cover on foot, and besides, how are you supposed to do anything without money? He has control over your previous bank account, and you certainly don't have any access to his, so how are you going to go anywhere? Still, he sends out a couple guys to search a farther, larger area, just in case a hitchhiker picked you up, or someone took pity on you and gave you enough money to use public transportation.
While his underlings are doing that, he's scanning every inch of the house in hopes of finding out how you escaped. Not a single inch of the house is left unturned, he will find out how you left, and he will make sure that you can never repeat that escape route again. Any and all weaknesses his security has are fixed within the day, insuring that once you're safely home, you'll never be able to bypass his cameras again.
He's a ball of rage and sadness for however long it takes to get you back. He's blaming you, he's blaming himself, he's blaming his employees, he's blaming the world, he's blaming anything with a pulse. His emotions flip like a switch, sometimes he's violently angry, but other moments he's horribly depressed. If he wasn't so focused on getting you back, he would have spent all his time in your bed, unable to move in the wake of his overwhelming emotions. He needs you back, he needs you back NOW.
He can feel himself inching closer towards the brink of insanity each hour you're away. He's constantly checking for updates on your whereabouts, growing increasingly unstable when each check in results in absolutely no new information being gained. His threats get more and more deranged with each failure to find you, his mind running through all the worst case scenarios he can think of. You couldn't be dead, could you? No, no, they would have known for sure if that were the case. Did you go to the police? No, you weren't that stupid. You knew he had insiders in the local department, it would have been runaway suicide to go to them. But if you weren't dead, or hidden away somewhere, than where could you possibly be?
Several days pass by, and there's still no sign of you anywhere. Charlie himself spends all day personally trying to track you himself, and still, there's no sign of you. Charlie's hysteria only gets worse, significantly so, to the point where he's seriously considering ending it all if he can't find you in the next couple of days. Without you, he has no reason to live. Life had no meaning. You were the shining light in the long, dark tunnel that was his life, and without that light, he has no reason to go on. His job brings him no pleasure, nor do his riches. He has no friends, no family, and no way to escape his position. Everything he did was for you, and now you're gone. He can't go on without you, he won't, if he can't have you then he won't have anything, please, he needs to find you before he loses it, he NEEDS-
Charlie was quite literally only a couple of seconds away from grabbing the gun strapped to his waist and blowing his brains out when they find you. Or well...They find what happened to you.
To Charlie's dismay, you aren't with the men who found out where you could be. He demands an explanation as to why they showed their faces without you in tow, but grows incredibly quiet when the people in front of him report that you've been kidnapped by a rival mafia leader. No wonder you had been hard to find. There was another organization covering your tracks, hiding you away from Charlie for their own personal benefit.
Charlie learns a lot of new things that day. He learns that unfortunately, one of the rival mafia's men had slipped through the cracks of his defences and become a spy for his rival, reporting back to the other leader whenever necessary. And unfortunately, because of how well known you are amongst Charlie's members, it didn't take long for the spy to figure out who you were.
He found out that as soon as word of your escape got out, the other organization immediately started hunting for you, planning to capture you and extort your connection with Charlie for money and power.
He found out that the organization found you, and now, you were with them, tied up somewhere in an undisclosed location. The only reason they knew you had been captured in the first place is because Charlie has his own spy within the rival mafia, and a pretty high ranking one at that.
Charlie is beyond furious when he finds out where you are. How dare his rival kidnap you and use you! How dare he put you in such danger! And how dare that spy!
He's so beyond angry that he can't even formulate words for several minutes, running his hand over his face and pacing around the room frantically, trying to think up a plan. When he's finally able to speak again, he orders half the men present to find that rival spy and bring him here, and the other half to find their own personal spy and tell him to figure out where you are and who is with you as soon as possible. Now that he knows where you are, he’s wasting no time in getting you back. He won’t let you suffer in the hands of his rival, he swears it.
Before he can get his report back though…he gets a message.
It’s a video of you, tied down to a rickety old chair in some unknown building. Your eyes are covered, but Charlie doesn’t need to see them to know how utterly terrified you are. You’re shaking, as much as your restraints allow you to at least, your normally untouched skin dark with bruises. There’s a guard on either side of you, guns in hand, and as the recording goes on, you’re quickly pulled out of frame, replaced by the big man himself.
Demands are made, but Charlie isn’t listening. All he can think about is you, you and your bruised, trembling body. Despite all the anger he harbors towards your escape, he's overwhelmed with fear and sadness. You've been hurt and bound, left helpless at the hands of his rival. The knowledge that you could be fatally injured or at least seriously wounded is not lost on him. He needs to figure out how to get you back, he needs to devise a plan to save you, he-
It doesn’t take long for him to get a report from his personal spy. This person is someone who his rival trusts after all, someone who’s been worming his way up to the top for years, all under the guise of a loyal right hand man. It was child’s play for him to figure out where you were being kept, even being bestowed the honor to guard you, a decision that Charlie would take full advantage of.
The second Charlie gets the report, he’s preparing for war. He’s not leaving anything up to chance. He knows he’s dealing with someone with a significant amount of power, so he’s getting the most skilled, deadly, dangerous people under his command to accompany him in bringing you home. He won't risk your safety any more than he has to, as much as he wants to tear the building apart and murder anyone in his sight, his main priority is getting you out of there in back home safely. Everything else can come after.
As soon as everyone's armed and ready, they're heading out to save you. Charlie makes sure to keep everyone as undercover as possible in case his rival becomes alert to their plan, only revealing themselves when they get the building you're being kept in. By the time Charlie's spy lets him and his crew in, it's too late for anyone to do anything.
Once in the building, Charlie makes no effort in hiding his presence. He's too pissed to care. He's shooting at any and every living thing that isn't one of his own men, taking down every and any goon who stands in his way. The rival mafia's forces can try to take him down, but chances are they'll be dead before they can get to him, and even if they aren't, a few bullet wounds won't stop Charlie. He's too high off of anger and adrenaline to care. All he can focus on is getting to you.
Charlie and his group travel through each and every room together, too cautious to let anyone stray on their own. Some of Charlie's employee's try to convince him to go back to the car and wait for them, that he's too hurt to carry on but Charlie brushes them off, snapping that he's not leaving until he finds you. He'll gladly bleed out right then and there if it means you'll come home.
Eventually, pretty much every goon hiding in the building is eliminated, minus the ones that are presumably guarding you. A couple of Charlie's men have fallen with them, but Charlie doesn't really care. Their lives were a means to an end, and hopefully, that end would result in your safe return. All they have to do now is find where they're keeping you.
The spy brings Charlie to the room where you're presumably being held, and without hesitation, Charlie kicks down the door, drawing his gun and aiming at anyone who isn't you. There are two guards beside your still-bound form, but within seconds they're laying dead on the floor, gunshot wounds going straight through their heads. Charlie can feel his heart hurting as he watches you flinch with every gun shot, but he reminds himself that this is all necessary to get you back, however scary it may be for you.
As soon as the guards are dead, Charlie's rushing towards you, fumbling with your restraints with shaky fingers. He gets increasingly frustrated when he can't undo them on his own, the blood loss from his bullet wounds beginning to get to him. His employees have to help him out, cutting you free and removing the blindfold that's been covering your eyes for who knows how long.
The second you're free, Charlie's grabbing onto you, bringing you into the most aggressive hug you've probably ever received. He won't let you go for what feels like forever, simply holding you to him, rocking your bodies back and forth while he soaks up your warmth. He's hurt, he's hurt badly, but right now, his priority is you, and reassuring you that your safe now, you're ok. He's not gonna let you go.
It's not until his employees surround him and you, urging him to leave, that he breaks away from you, but even then it's not by much. He's got one hand in yours, and one hand on his gun, refusing to let his guard down, even though he's successfully retrieved you. He would have carried you out of there, but with the injuries he's obtained, it's probably not a good idea. Still, he's determined to protect you, to keep you safe from anyone else that may be lurking in the building. Unfortunately, it appears the rival mafia leader managed to escape the building before Charlie got to him, but that's ok. Charlie can deal with him later. Right now, his priority is you.
The group only comes across a couple more people from the rival mafi, but they're swiftly dealt with, leaving a clear and quick path out of the building and back to the cars. The second you get into Charlie's car, the driver's speeding off, driving as quick as he can to the nearest hospital to get you and Charlie treated. All the while, Charlie's gripping onto you, refusing to let you go. He can tell you're still scared, and he's determined to remedy that the best he can.
It takes a lot of convincing to get Charlie to release you long enough to get treated. He's on the verge of passing out from blood loss, but all he cares about is you, and your safety. He doesn't trust anyone to be with you, but he finally allows himself to be pulled away when a nurse reminds him that it'll be hard to treat you with someone clinging onto your body the way he is, and that letting you go is what's best for your recovery. On his way out, he weakly promises you that he'll be back as soon as he can, and that he'll make sure you get the best care imaginable. His eyes are on you until he can no longer see you, and even then he's still looking in your direction, desperate for any visible trace of you.
It takes a couple hours for Charlie to get stitched up fully, but as soon as he does, he's rushing as quick as he's allowed to to be back at your side. Thankfully your injuries weren't as severe as his, only bruises and a broken bone or two, so you're already healed up by the time Charlie makes his way back to you. He's attaching himself right back to your side the second he sees you, he needs your touch more than anything after the long, horrible days filled with nothing but your absence.
Once he's sure everything's ok with both of you, Charlie takes you home. He doesn't yell at you, he doesn't scold you, he doesn't even say anything about your escape, but despite how cautious he's trying to be, you still look utterly terrified of him. He hadn't fully understood why you would be so scared of him before, not really, because despite his job, he had never, and would never, hurt you in any way, and he thought you knew that. But after all this...
He gets it. He gets it in a way he never considered before, and that understanding causes the most intense wave of guilt to envelop him. Yeah, he's never hurt you before, but he could. He's fully capable of it, and he knows you know he is. He's probably no different from his rival, not in your eyes, because despite their rivalry, they essentially do the exact same thing. Hell, Charlie's done disturbingly similar things to others in comparison to what the rival mafia did to you. He's done worse than what they've done to you. It feels different to him because he knows he would never do anything to you, but you don't know that. In your mind, you could end up just like any other person Charlie deals with at any moment. You didn't try to escape because Charlie had done something wrong towards you, you tried to escape because he could do something towards you. Sure, he had been nothing but kind to you, but how were you supposed to trust him? After all he had done, and was doing, even while you were with him, had he really given you a reason to?
Charlie won't punish you for your escape attempt. He was already unlikely to do so anyway, since he figured that would just make you more scared of him, but now, he's even more determined to earn your trust. Besides, you got kidnapped and injured by an extremely dangerous individual, which must have been a horrifying experience to live though. In his book, that kind of fear was punishment enough. He just hopes you'll be less likely to try and escape in the future, now that your first attempt went so wrong.
As much as it pains him to do so, Charlie gives you your space. For a while, at least. He fears that forcing you to interact with him will only cause your terror of him to grow, and that's the last thing he wants, especially after all you've gone through. He does reassure you that he's not upset with you, and you have no reason to fear him, but he understands that you aren't going to trust him right away simply because he told you you should. It's going to take time to gain your love and trust, and he's determined to do it right this time.
He won't try to rush anything anymore. He's gonna go at your pace, because at the end of the day, if that's what gets him your love, than it'll be worth it.
Oh, and uh... as for that traitorous spy, and his rival for that matter, well... don't worry about it. He's got a plan for them. One he'd rather you not get involved in.
Don't worry about it. Everything's going to be fine, he swears it.
I hope you enjoyed!
#x reader#oc x reader#yandere#yandere thoughts#yandere x reader#yandere male#yandere x darling#my ocs#ocs#sweet yandere#male yandere#tw yandere#soft yandere#yandere boyfriend#yandere mafia boss#yandere mafia#mafia boss x reader#mafia au#charlie craven x reader#charlie x reader#charlie craven#original character x reader#original character#my ocs <3#my oc stuff#my writing
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an: requests and comments always welcome!
wc: 1250
Summary: Pato surprises you by coming home for your anniversary. Fluff with a slight bit of suggestiveness at the end.
One full year. One full year of dating the most thoughtful, obnoxious, beautiful, annoying soul of a man. Three hundred and sixty five days of weird faces, suggestive Snapchat captions, and random phone calls. There's been less drama and more love than you could've ever dreamed.
You wouldn't trade the past twelve months for anything in the world.
Dating Pato hasn't been all puppies and rainbows- although Norbi had joined the two of you on a picnic once and you had seen multiple full rainbows. There's challenges, most of which stem from the constant distance and busy schedules. But one way or another, Pato always finds a way to make you feel like he's only in the next room instead of a few states away.
Whether it be sending you flowers after you've ranted over text or facetiming you for thirty seconds to wish you a good morning, Pato does what he can. Sometimes it's overwhelming to have him away from home so long. There's days where you aren't sure how much longer you can go without holding him in your arms or feeling his stubbly cheeks beneath your fingertips. Pato must have a sixth sense for those things however, because he always seems to know and always gives you a little more love on the rough days.
Tonight though, you've got the man all to yourself. The lottery drew your number. You don't know what sacrifice he's made to the scheduling gods, but he's managed to come home for your anniversary just two days before a race. And the worst part? Pato hadn't given you any warning. You'd opened the door in your pajamas, expecting your door dash order instead of the whole package.
Once you'd attacked him and thoroughly smattered his face with kisses, you'd worked up the courage to ask how long he'd be home.
“It's only eight hours, I have a plane later tonight to catch back to Milwaukee. But I figured a few hours is better than seeing your face on a screen.”
“It's so much better Pato,” you murmur and steal another kiss. You can't help it; you're addicted to him and have been in withdrawal for far too long. “I missed you so fucking much.”
“Trust me, I missed you more.” Pato nudges your jaw with his nose. You understand his request and tip your head to give him full access to your neck, letting any thoughts of that very important work project that had to be finished this week float away on the breeze.
If you only had eight hours with your man, you were going to make the most of them.
“Upstairs,” you breathe, fingers tangling in his freshly styled hair. “Now, Pato.”
“Ma'am yes ma'am.”
**********
After spending a few hours wrapped up in each other, Pato had finally convinced you to go out to lunch with him. He'd picked your dress, a burnt orange satin number with thin straps and a slit up the leg that nearly went to your hip.
With Pato dressed in a charcoal quarter zip that's shamefully unzipped and his hair fluffed just how you like it, it's a miracle you've made it through the first course without jumping him. Because with that much of his neck on display and the proof of your earlier fun poking out from under the collar, it's taking every ounce of willpower to keep from dragging him out of this fancy restaurant and begging him to put some marks of his own on you.
"My eyes are up here hermosa."
"Hmm? Oh- no I know Pato, sorry! I just got distracted." Pato shifts to allow more skin to show. His smirk tells you he knows exactly what he's doing.
“I seem to distract you a lot don't I? Like before when I got home and you were working on that project…” Pato swipes his index finger through the pasta sauce on his plate and licks it clean. Thoughts swirl in your head like mist, though the only one that materializes is the memory of where those fingers had been an hour ago.
“Uh… sure…”
“Not doing yourself much justice here, are you?” Pato tips his head, brown eyes warm and sparkling. “Good thing you're cute- you're not a very good conversation partner when your head is up on mars.”
“Well maybe if you wouldn't be so hot all the time,” you mumble, spearing pasta on your fork. “It would make my life a lot easier. Then maybe I could get through a meal without losing my train of thought.”
Pato's cute little dimples are on full display when he smiles. Your stomach does flips as if you're back in high school sitting across from your crush. It's crazy how he still has that effect on you now. You'd once worried that the spark would fade and you'd get bored of each other. Now though, you're positive that it's still as alive and hot as the day you met.
“We both know you don't mean that. These,” Pato taps one of the bruises on his neck, “are proof that you love me just how I am.”
“Yeah well, all I'm saying is once in a while you could show me some mercy, you know? You c-could-” you stutter when Pato's hand meets your knee. Hidden under the table and exposed by the slit in your dress, his thumb moves over your smooth skin whilst his eyes remain trained on you.
“Hermosa? Everything alright?” Pato smiles sweetly as his hand slides halfway up your thigh. Now you know why he asked for the tiniest table tucked away in the corner. Considering Pato's smug grin, his public torture is having the desired effect.
“I'm- I'm fine Pato. Perfectly fine.” You clear your throat and shift in your seat so that you're out of his reach. For a split second, you feel guilty when Pato frowns. But instead of giving up, he ups the ante. Pato simply moves his own chair so that he can replace his hand exactly where it was. You should've known he wouldn't let you get away so easily; Pato isn't one to be deterred.
“Actually,” you purr, laying your hand on his arm, “it would be better if you could let me finish eating in peace.”
“Mmm let me think about it.” Pato drums His fingers on your thigh and purses his lips. You both know the answer before the, “no,” leaves his lips.
You huff and curl your fingers so your nails dig into his sweater. “This isn't fair Pato. I can't do anything to you, and you're set on torturing me.”
“I think the solution is simple.” When you stare at him blankly, Pato shrugs. “Finish your meal. The quicker you finish eating, the quicker we can get home, yeah?” Pato's wink is accompanied by a dip of his hand between your thighs, there and gone. As quick as it is, his touch is still enough to leave you scrambled.
“Just pay the bill. I'm done eating.”
“But I ordered dessert-”
“And I’ll be the dessert as long as you get me home in the next twenty minutes.” a mischievous glint dances in Pato’s eyes. His hand stays exactly where it is whilst the server retrieves the tab. Pato takes one look at it and leaves cash on the table, not bothering with change.
Pato makes it home with three minutes to spare, and as promised, makes you his dessert.
#pato o'ward#pato o'ward x reader#pato o'ward x you#pato o'ward fanfic#pato o'ward imagine#pato o'ward fanfiction#pato o'ward one shot#indycar rpf#jac writes
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Chocolate Hearts
CW: Smut
Word count: 4,541
Growing up in a small town was never easy. The days appeared to drag on with gloomy skies and bleak summers filling the calendar. Rain and storms consumed the days, leaving Stella feeling trapped inside her own home, binge-watching Netflix to pass the time. Despite these dreary conditions and the small town gossip that cause her to suffocate, Stella found solace in two things: reading novels at the quaint local bookstore and pursuing her passion for photography.
Behind the lens, Stella was a master. She had an eye for capturing beauty in the simplest of subjects. Her clients ranged from families to businesses, and sometimes beloved pets. While most of her projects were fairly small, she had managed to gain a decent following on social media thanks to the artistic and creative nature of her photos.
Then, through pure luck, an opportunity presented itself about an hour away - the chance to photograph Harry Styles at an arena for her portfolio. It would be a stark contrast to her usual work - the bright lights and frantic movements on stage would provide a new challenge for her skills behind the lens. When her sister's boyfriend, who worked security at the venue, offered her this rare opportunity, Stella couldn't turn it down. It was a chance to showcase her talent on a larger scale and potentially open doors for her career as a photographer.
She meticulously packed her gear, carefully selecting the best lenses and camera body for the upcoming task. Her vintage-style paperboy camera bag was neatly filled with all the necessary equipment, ensuring that she would be fully prepared for whatever lay ahead. Taking a moment to center herself, she sat down and focused on her breathing, a technique her therapist had taught her for moments when she needed to relax and gather her thoughts.
With a deep breath, she swiped the keys off of the counter and bid farewell to her cat before heading out to her car. While she wouldn't necessarily classify herself as a fan of Harry Styles, she found him charming and had enjoyed his performances in the few movies he had been in. There was something about his energy that drew her in. She couldn't deny that she had a One Direction phase in high school, so there was a small part of Stella that felt giddy at the thought of seeing him in person. She always thought her was attracitve and even had a little crush on him.
The drive to the arena was smooth, but finding parking proved to be a nightmare. Eventually, she made it inside and checked in, grabbing her pass before being escorted to where she would be shooting. In her mind, she imagined that she would have a decent view of the stage, but when the security guard handed her off to Harry's manager who then led her down winding hallways backstage, it became clear that she would not just be photographing the show - she would have access to something much more intimate and behind-the-scenes.
The manager wheeled around to face Stella, his slicked-back hair catching the light as he spoke. "I hope you're okay with this," he said, over the hustle and bustle of the backstage preparations for Harry Styles' show. "Originally we needed someone for the show, but our usual photographer is out sick and we need some content for Instagram."
Stella nodded, trying to suppress her nerves. She had been ecstatic when she was offered the opportunity to shoot photos of one of the worlds biggest musicians, but now that it was actually happening, she was feeling a bit overwhelmed. Her palms were getting clammy as she mentally went through her checklist, making sure she had everything ready to go.
"I'm good," she replied, flashing a quick smile at Harry's manager. "I'm all set up and ready whenever you guys are."
But what Stella wasn't prepared for was walking into Harry's dressing room and seeing him shirtless, with his stylist carefully crafting his iconic hairstyle. She couldn't help but feel a flutter in her chest as she took in his toned tattooed torso and muscular arms. This wasn't how she imagined meeting her high school celebrity crush.
Harry turned around from the chair and greeted her with a warm smile. "You must be Stella," he said as he walked towards her with open arms.
Stella couldn't believe she was actually hugging Harry Styles. She took in his scent, the strong muscles of his back pressing against her as they embraced, and she couldn't help but feel herself falling deeply in love with him. It was like a bug had bitten her and infected her with an infatuation for the charming and talented musician.
"I am," Stella finally managed to say, trying not to let on how starstruck she was. "Thank you so much for allowing me to come today. I've never really done anything like this before, it feels like such a big opportunity."
Harry chuckled and then ran a hand through his hair, causing it to fall in soft waves around his face. "No worries, love," he replied with a playful wink. "We're happy to have you here. And I was thinking we could mix things up a bit for the photoshoot. Let's do some portraits but also some candid shots of me getting ready, organizing my clothes, that sort of thing."
Stella's eyes sparkled with excitement at the idea. She couldn't believe she was going to be taking intimate behind-the-scenes shots of Harry Styles. This was definitely going to be the highlight of her photography career so far.
As Stella clicked away with her camera, capturing every moment of Harry getting ready, she couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of confidence around him. It was as if his vibrant energy was contagious and had spread throughout her body, lifting her spirits in its wake. She found herself contorting into unusual positions to get the perfect shot, lost in the thrill of documenting this experience.
"So Stella, we have a whole week off and I want to explore. I never get out to this area of the US. What's there to do around here?" Harry's deep, smooth voice sent shivers down her spine.
Stella paused for a moment, caught off guard by this unexpected conversation. "I um," she stuttered, "I actually live in a small town about an hour north of here. I'm not too familiar with the area."
Harry nodded, his curiosity piqued. "Is it cool?" he asked, his tone laced with genuine interest.
Stella shrugged, "It's alright. There are some nice bakeries and vegan restaurants. I have my studio there. It's a bit hipster but quiet and charming. Oh, and there's a really cool vinyl store. And hey, if you need a place to crash, I have a guest room." She added the last part jokingly, assuming that a famous superstar like Harry Styles would be staying in a luxurious penthouse suite.
"Let's do it," Harry declared with enthusiasm, catching Stella off guard once again.
"Really?" she gasped in disbelief.
Harry simply nodded and explained, "I've been wanting to escape to a smaller town where I can blend in and do normal things without being recognized. Sounds perfect."
Stella couldn't believe her luck as the show went on and eventually came to an end. The plan was for her to go home and wait for Harry while he finished up his final performance and got cleaned up before heading over to her place. She inwardly thanked herself for deep cleaning her house the day before, she was prepared to have everything to be perfect for Harry's stay.
"I-I didn't think you'd actually want to come," Stella admitted as they said their goodbyes.
Harry chuckled and replied, "Isn't it a bit crazy?"
And with that, their unconventional journey began.
.
Stella sat at home, anxiously awaiting Harry's arrival. She had cleaned her small apartment, lit a few candles, and put on a record to set the mood. With a quick glance at the clock, she grabbed a bottle of wine and poured herself a glass to calm her nerves.
As she took a sip, her doorbell rang, causing her cat to scurry off in alarm. Stella placed her glass down and smoothed out her outfit before opening the door. The crisp fall air rushed in, bringing with it the tantalizing scent of Harry's cologne - a masculine blend of woodsy and spicy notes that never failed to drive her wild.
"Welcome to my humble abode," she greeted him with a shrug, trying to play it cool. He hugged her tightly before setting his bag down and taking off his shoes.
"It's lovely," he remarked as he looked around her eclectic apartment filled with vintage knick-knacks and furniture straight out of the 70s. Stella blushed with pride - she may not be much of a decorator, but this was her personal style and Harry seemed to appreciate it.
"I don't think there are many places open for dinner right now, but we can order takeout if you'd like. I know it's late," Stella suggested.
"Oh, that would be great. I'm actually quite hungry," Harry admitted with a sheepish grin.
Stella returned his smile and poured him a glass of wine.
"For you," she said softly as she handed it over.
Together, they sat on her cozy couch, looking through takeout menus. Their options were limited, so they settled on a 24-hour Korean BBQ place that offered delivery services.
"You know," Stella began as they waited for their food to arrive, "I was somewhat surprised when you agreed to come over tonight. You don't even know me."
Harry simply shrugged in response.
"You seemed nice and warm. Sometimes, you have to take a chance in order to truly live," he said with a hint of wisdom in his tone. "I'm constantly surrounded by strangers in my line of work, always staying in hotels. I thought, why not spend some time with a stranger who offers a sense of home? That sounded nice right about now."
Stella placed a comforting hand on his knee and rubbed lightly with her thumb.
"Well, if I can provide that sense of home, even for a little while, then I will." As they sat on the couch, making small talk and waiting for their food, Stella couldn't help but feel grateful for this unexpected connection she had made with Harry.
Stella and Harry’s conversation was soon interrupted by food arriving. The two sat in silence and then cleaned up in silence. The energy of the room could only be described as tired. Stella took Harry down the hall and showed him the bathroom and then took him to the room he would be staying in.
They hugged goodnight and said their goodbyes before Stella finished turning off the lights and heading to bed herself. She wondered how she would sleep. She felt guilty for trying to fall asleep. A part of her felt like she had to stay on duty and protect the treasure that was in the room over. When in reality, if someone broke in she would be the first to go.
The next morning dawned, and as her drowsy eyes gradually cleared, Stella almost forgot that Harry was in the room next to hers. A warm, sweet scent wafted through the air, reminding her of home. Slowly, she got out of bed and walked over to her vanity, taking a moment to fix her disheveled appearance before stepping into the living room.
There stood Harry in the kitchen, his back turned to her as he focused on cooking. He must have heard her footsteps because he turned around with a smile.
"Got up early. Went on a run, found a store and decided to cook for ya," he said over his shoulder, his voice filled with warmth and affection. Stella's heart skipped a beat at the sight of him.
"Oh Harry! You could've woken me up," she exclaimed, feeling guilty for not helping him with breakfast.
But he just shook his head, his light curls bouncing slightly with the movement.
"It was nice. To go out and not be known," he shared with her.
Stella looked at him with loving eyes, marveling at how this famous celebrity could find solace in anonymity.
"I can only imagine. I don't know how you do it all the time. No privacy. Going on a date and having the world see it even if it sucked. I can't imagine, and I’ve been on some pretty bad dates.” she confessed to Harry, unable to hide her admiration.
He laughed lightly, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
"Well. Why don't I take you out on not a bad date?" he suggested casually, but Stella's heart nearly stopped in her chest at his words. She couldn't believe it - was Harry asking her out on a date?
"If you're sure," she managed to say, trying to keep her cool.
He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close and giving her a warm hug.
"It wasn't just luck, Stella. I found your Instagram a while ago. The small town pics, the cat, the photography. I know your sister's boyfriend and I knew I had to meet you. I was practically drawn to you," he confessed, sending shivers down Stella's spine.
She couldn't believe it - this famous, talented, and incredibly attractive man had an interest in her. With a newfound sense of confidence and excitement, Stella accepted his invitation for a date, eager to see where this unexpected connection would lead them.
Despite being unfamiliar with the town, Harry managed to find a quaint restaurant and drove Stella there in his rental car. For once, he felt a sense of normalcy - the feeling of dating someone without the baggage of fame and paparazzi constantly hounding them. The drive was short, but it gave him time to take in the picturesque scenery of the small town.
As they arrived at the restaurant, Stella's face lit up with recognition. She had been here many times before, and it was clear that she loved this place. The staff greeted her by name as they walked in, and Harry couldn't help but tease her about being the "famous" one.
"It's just a small town," she laughed, "everyone knows everyone."
Over dinner, Harry couldn't shake off the feeling that he already knew Stella, or perhaps had known her in another lifetime. He found himself wanting to do simple things like eating Korean barbecue in bed or buying silly chocolate hearts from CVS - anything to make her smile.
Stella too, felt an instant connection with Harry. Just yesterday she didn't remember his name, now she would drop everything and run away with him if he asked. She wanted him in every way possible.
Their meal ended too quickly, but the silence between them was comfortable and filled with unspoken feelings. After dinner, Harry suggested going out and doing something adventurous, but Stella simply wanted to be home - home with him and a bottle of wine. Much to his surprise, Harry was completely content with that plan.
He drove her back to her house like he had lived in that town his whole life. As they entered her place, Stella kicked off her shoes and made a beeline for the kitchen where she grabbed a bottle of wine. She poured two glasses and handed one to Harry as she fumbled with setting up the record player.
Taking a few sips of wine to calm her nerves, Stella couldn't find the right record to play and let out a frustrated sigh then finished her glass by chugging it. In that moment, Harry realized that he would do anything to make her happy, even if it meant spending the night listening to terrible music.
Stella felt him behind her as he placed a hand on the back of her shoulders. Stella felt the heat of his body, an angelic presence stirring her senses from behind. His touch was electric on the back of her shoulders, sending shivers down her spine. She turned around to face him, their faces just inches apart. The scent of his cologne filled her nostrils - masculine and intoxicating.
Wordlessly, she poured and handed him another glass of wine. Their fingers brushed against each other in the transfer, sparking a flame that coursed through their linked bodies.
"Your choice," she said with a teasing smile, gesturing to the records spread out on the table. He picked up one at random – some old jazz record she'd forgotten about. Harry placed it on the turntable and the sultry sway of a saxophone began to fill the room.
He moved closer to her then, invading her personal space as if he had every right to do so. Harrys hands found their way to her waist, pulling her flush against him. Stella gasped at the feel of his firm body pressing into hers.
“Is this okay?” he murmured into her ear. His breath tickled her skin and made her giggle.
“More than okay,” Stella replied. Her voice was husky, inviting.
His lips trailed kisses from her earlobe down towards her neck, stoking the fire that was quickly building between them. She clutched onto his hair for dear life as pleasure washed over her in waves.
As Harry's hands slipped under Stella's blouse, he gently brushed his fingertips along the small of her back before pressing softly against her bare skin. His touch was electric, sending shivers down her spine as she leaned into him, her heart pounding in anticipation. His other hand slid around to her waist before moving slowly downwards, tracing the lines of her hip and finally reaching the edge of her silk panties. Stella gasped, feeling a rush of heat spreading through her core at his touch.
"Harry," she whispered, unable to form complete thoughts as he began to explore between her legs, teasing and stroking with expert fingers. She leaned into him, letting out soft moans that were quickly drowned out by the music playing in the background. His warm breath caressed her neck, sending shivers down her spine as he nibbled lightly on the soft skin there.
In response, Stella reached up to run her fingers through his hair, loving the feel of it between her fingertips as he continued to tease her. The way he touched her was unlike anything she'd ever experienced before - it was like he knew exactly what she needed, right from the start. With each gentle caress and sigh, she felt herself growing hotter and wetter under his touch.
His fingers found their way inside and she couldn't contain a moan as he teased into places that made every nerve ending light up like fireworks going off in slow motion. He moved with an almost practiced ease that left her panting for more; it was clear that Harry knew exactly what he was doing and it felt so good - better than anything she could have ever imagined. She couldn't help but wrap one leg around him in anticipation.
The music flowed around them, the silky jazz notes wrapping them up in a sensual embrace as Harry's fingers danced with hers, his hands exploring every curve and contour of her body.His touch was firm yet gentle, eliciting soft moans from Stella.
As his mouth neared hers, she parted her lips, eager for his kiss. Their lips met in a tender yet passionate embrace that left them both breathless. He tasted like wine and desire, his tongue dancing with hers playfully before delving deeper into her mouth. They broke apart for air, panting heavily as Harry trailed kisses down her neck and collarbone while continuing to stroke her inner thighs.
Stella continued to run her fingers through his hair, tangling herself up in those curls that smelled of sandalwood and sex appeal. The scent alone made her dizzy with lust; she needed more of him than just this small taste. The warmth from his body seeped into hers as they swayed together to the music—a slow song that matched their slow dance of seduction. She could feel his hardness pressing against her leg; it wasn't long before she grew wetter than ever from anticipation of what was to come next.
Harry leaned back slightly to look at Stella who looked back at him longingly. Her eyes were filled with desire, her pupils dilated from the alcohol and passion. He took a step back to remove his shirt, revealing toned abs and muscles that rippled under his tattooed skin. His hair fell onto his forehead in soft waves, framing his face as he reached for the button of his jeans. With a low growl of need, he undid the button and slid down the zipper before pushing the denim down to rest on his hips.
Stella watched hungrily as Harry stepped out of his pants and kicked them off to the side, revealing a large erection that strained against his boxers. She licked her lips involuntarily at the sight of him, feeling her own arousal growing stronger by the second.
The jazz music continued softly in the background, creating an intimate ambiance between them as they moved closer together once more. Their bodies swaying slowly as if in tune with the melody. Harry pressed himself against Stella's Core invitingly; she could feel how hard he was through their thin fabric separating them.
His tongue traced her earlobe gently before nibbling playfully at it causing shivers to run up her spine. He whispered huskily into her ear, "I want you.” His accent driving her crazy.
She moaned softly in response as he trailed kisses down her neck and collarbone, his warm breath sending shockwaves through her body. His hands roamed over her curves possessively.
"Harry," she breathed out wanting more than just teasing now; needing completion beneath this hands.
The sight of his arousal straining against his boxers made her lick her lips in anticipation. He was thick and hard, and she could see a bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip. "Oh god," Stella moaned quietly under her breath.
Harry swiftly discarded his boxers, revealing his length fully to her gaze. Her eyes widened slightly at his size, but there was no fear in her eyes – only an eager curiosity as she reached out to touch him. Her small hand wrapped around him firmly, making him groan in pleasure.
With one swift move he pushed her onto the carpeted floor, pulled off her panties, and spread her thighs wide apart. She looked up at him from beneath heavy lashes, anticipation brewing like a storm within those sultry depths. His fingers found their way to her slick heat, nudging open sensitive folds to gain access to the secrets hidden within.
His finger dipped within the wetness, coating himself in it before retreating to rub circles around the swollen bud nestled above. A bolt of pleasure shot through Stella's body and she writhed beneath him; gasps spilling freely from her parted lips. "Fuck...Harry..."
He continued to tease gently at first, before picking up speed - each stroke sending waves of pleasure coursing through her body as he taunted that sweet spot relentlessly. His other hand kneaded and tweaked her breasts, heightening the pleasure. Stella's back arched off the floor as he brought her closer and closer to that edge.
"Harry... I..." she stammered out breathlessly. Her hands grasped at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as an orgasm ripped through her body.
Her screams of pleasure echoed in the dimly lit room as Harry continued to stroke her through her orgasm, drawing out the waves of pleasure until she was left panting and spent beneath him.
Slowly, he nudged her legs further apart with his knee before guiding his hardness to her entrance. She whimpered slightly at the feel of him pressing against her but nonetheless lifted her hips to meet him halfway.
He filled her slowly; each inch driving a gasp from both of them until he was fully embedded within her. Their bodies were connected now - not just physically, but emotionally and spiritually too. Their movements soon found a rhythm; slow and deep thrusts that had her wrapping her legs around his waist to pull him deeper.
His pace gradually increased as they both chased their release; Stella's nails leaving trails down his back as she clung onto him. It wasn't long before she felt another rise in pleasure peaking; this one even more intense than the last. "Harry...I'm going to..."
With one final deep thrust, she screamed his name as pleasure fell over her once again; Harry following suit shortly after with a groan of his own. He collapsed on top of her panting heavily; their sweaty bodies entwined in bliss.
Their shared connection was undeniable. Passionate yet tender, their lovemaking was something far beyond mere physical satisfaction. And so their story began, Harry fell in love with the small town over the week and vowed to visit in when his time was free.
-
As the week in the small town came to an end, Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness. He had never expected to find such a powerful connection with someone in such an unexpected place. But as he looked at her sleeping form next to him, he knew that this was just the beginning of something special.
He gently brushed her hair out of her face and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. She stirred slightly and opened her eyes, a smile spreading across her face when she saw Harry watching her.
"Good morning," she said, her voice still heavy with sleep.
"Morning," Harry replied, unable to keep the smile off his face as he leaned in for another kiss.
They spent their last day together exploring the town, holding hands and stealing kisses whenever they could. They were both reluctant to say goodbye, but they knew it was only temporary. They had promised to stay in touch and make plans for future visits.
As they stood at the airport saying their farewells, Harry made a promise to himself – he would come back here whenever he could. This small town had captured his heart in more ways than one.
In the weeks that followed, they kept their promise and stayed connected through phone calls and messages. And when Harry's schedule allowed it, he would make the trip back to that small town, always finding new adventures and creating more memories with her by his side.
His bandmates noticed a change in him – he seemed happier, more at peace. And when they asked about it, all Harry could do was smile and tell them about this magical place that had become his sanctuary.
But as much as he loved visiting this small town and spending time with her, Harry knew that eventually their paths would diverge once again. His music career took him all over the world and she was rooted in this quaint little town. With that knowledge looming over them, they cherished every moment they had together. And in those moments, their love only grew stronger.
#one direction#harry styles smut#famous!harry#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles masterlist#harry styles#oneshot#harry styles writing#harry styles fan fic#harrystyles#one shot#harry smut#harrys house#harry styles blurb
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🍎 + criminal minds' spencer reid + it (2017)
happy halloween!
thank you so much for sending this ask!! i too love it (2017) and i need to rewatch it again soon because i miss my losers very much >ᴗ< here is a little blurb for you <3 happy Halloween!!! 🎃🧡
Trick or Treat...
spencer reid x gn!reader - 500 words, slightly suggestive themes
“Spence?” You call out. “We have to leave soon or we'll be late!”
You hear a small thud followed by a yelp, and you begin to move towards the source of the noise, your shoes clicking on the floor as you go.
“I'm fine!” Spencer squeaks, and you can't help but smile. “Be right there!” His voice is clearer now, and he quickly appears in the doorway of your shared bedroom.
His hair is slightly dishevelled, presumably from whatever caused him to shout out just now, but you don't linger on it too long…instead your gaze is trained on his body, and his choice of costume.
The two of you (mostly Spencer though) decided to keep your Halloween costumes a secret this year. After Penelope had sent the annual Halloween party invite Spencer had been almost immediately tight-lipped about his ideas, leaving you to fend for yourself on Pinterest and Instagram for inspiration—although Penelope had been a godsend, giving you access to her creativity and artistry had definitely saved you from scrolling too far down the endless social media spiral.
Your eyes darken as they track his figure, something bubbles up inside of you and you suddenly find that being late to the party is not such a terrible idea…not when Spencer is looking like that.
You don't know how he managed to sort this whole thing out without you getting any sort of inclination of his plan. Devious man.
A cough brings you out of the spell you found yourself under and when you meet Spencer's eyes there is a slight tinge of red dusting his cheeks, along with an uncharacteristically smug look on his face.
“You like my costume?” He asks, feigning innocence.
You nod, almost too enthusiastically, and Spencer smiles widely at your reaction. He reaches his hand out towards you, and you gladly accept it, letting him lead you back towards where you were waiting for him just moments ago. The front door clicks as Spencer opens it, and an incredulous look graces your face.
“We're leaving?!” You ask.
Spencer chuckles at you, the light dusting on his cheeks has now turned into full blown redness, but the smugness has yet to leave his features.
“Well yes, of course. We wouldn't want to be late, would we…” He trails off, leaving the possibility hanging in the air.
Your heart lurches and you want nothing more than to grab him by the collar and drag him back inside. But, you can't disagree with him—after all, he's only repeating what you had said to him earlier.
With a final sigh, you relent, allowing Spencer to fully pull you from the doorway and lock it behind you. After he slips the key in his bag you watch as he quickly sends Emily an “on the way!” text—not wanting to surprise your friends with your arrival (even though the party starts at 7pm and the two of you are never late to a function)—and you fall in step next to him, butterflies still overwhelming your stomach, but looking forward to celebrating the holiday with your friends.
take a look at this post if you'd like to join my little halloween celebration 🧡
divider by @/saradika
#hope you enjoy my lovely<3#happy Halloween to the no.1 Halloween enjoyer spencer reid#i love and miss him dearly#asks#halloween.event#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x you#sage.blurbs
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[Silvio] A Love Tailored To You Part 2
Credit to @shatcey for providing the video upload.
When I asked him about last night's events, Carlo thought for a moment and then––
Carlo: You were very drunk.
Carlo: Tanzanite liquor really doesn't agree with some people.
Emma: It seems like I'm one of those people...
Emma: By the way, what happened after the party?
Carlo: Prince Silvio took you back with him.
Emma: Was I... different then? Like a different person?
Carlo: Hmm, well, you were certainly more affectionate with Prince Silvio than usual.
Carlo: But I don't know about being like a different person.
Emma: Is that so...?
(So Silvio took me back to my room after that. I'm sure that's where...)
Silvio: You don't remember? You were incredibly erotic and bold, like a different person.
(Ugh, how embarrassing...)
Carlo: Ah, speaking of which, last night Prince Silvio was unusually––
???: Asking other people about yer drunken antics, huh? You've got interesting hobbies.
Emma: !
Just as I heard a jingling sound from the end of the hallway, Silvio came striding towards us.
Silvio: Chattin' in the hallway, huh? Looks like you have too much free time, Carlo. If you're saying you don't have enough work, I can give ya more.
Carlo: No, it's fine! I'll get back to work. Excuse me!
Carlo bowed and then dashed off like a rabbit.
Silvio: So, did you find out what you wanted to know?
He put his arm around my waist as if to say he wouldn't let me escape, and gave me a mischievous smile.
It felt like he was peering into the depths of my mind, trying to access the memories of last night that seemed to be sealed away, and my heart skipped a beat.
Emma: I learned that I was very drunk last night.
Silvio: Anything else?
Emma: I heard that you took me back to my room.
Emma: Thank you.
Silvio: Well, if I had left a drunkard at the venue, it would have been troublesome.
Silvio: But thanks to that, I got to see you make a fool of yourself. So we're even.
Silvio gave me a satisfied smile and placed a light kiss on my temple.
(Somehow, he seems to be in a better mood than usual.)
(Is it because last night was so amazing? Does that mean he's usually not satisfied?)
Anxiety sparked in my chest, and at the same time, the uneasy feeling from last night returned.
Even when I saw Silvio being approached by women at the party, I didn't feel particularly jealous.
Rather, I even felt envious.
I thought, if I could be like that, alluring and confident, Silvio would surely be thrilled by a different side of me––
(Maybe that drink made it possible.)
(A bolder, more sensual me that would make Silvio happy...)
(.........)
Silvio: You don't remember anything else?
Emma: Huh?
Silvio's voice brought me back to reality with a start.
Emma: No, I don't remember anything after that.
Silvio: Good.
(.........?)
I felt like Silvio had an expression of slight relief.
(Could it be that there's something inconvenient for Silvio if I remember last night?)
(Like, maybe he was overwhelmed by my boldness and showed a different side of himself...?)
Silvio: What are ya staring at?
Emma: Nothing.
Even as I shook my head, I was making a certain resolution.
-
That night---
I visited Silvio's room, wearing a more seductive negligee than usual, hidden under a gown.
––I masked my embarrassment with strong alcohol.
Silvio: It's unusual for you to come to my room dressed like that. Are you drunk again today?
Emma: Yes. My body aches, and I want you now...
I gently took the glass from Silvio's hand as he sat drinking by the window, placed it on the table, and led him to the bed.
(I won't blush or be shy. Today, I'm a very bold and seductive woman...)
As I told myself this, I pushed Silvio down and tried to take off his clothes, but---
Silvio: You're not that drunk, are you?
(Huh?)
Emma: I-I'm drunk.
I unbuttoned Silvio's shirt and showered his neck with kisses.
His hand slipped into my negligee, moving from my thigh to my buttock, but I managed to keep my expression unchanged.
Silvio: If you're saying you're the same as last night, then of course you can undress yourself, right?
Emma: I can. This is just a hindrance to making love with you.
Still straddling Silvio, I crossed my arms and took off my negligee.
(This is so embarrassing...! But if I back down now, it'll be the same as always.)
With my breasts exposed, I placed both hands beside Silvio's face and leaned over him.
Silvio: So, what are you going to do next? You're not satisfied with just taking it off, are you?
Emma: Of course not.
I took Silvio's hand, placed it on my breast, and kissed him.
Emma: Mmm...
I slipped my tongue between his lips, entwining them, and felt a heat building deep within my core.
Emma: Mm... ah...
As I kissed him hungrily, the hand I had placed on his chest brushed against his nipple.
(Normally I would pull my hand away, but...)
I pressed my hand more firmly against his chest, and as if in reward, his fingertips teased a sensitive spot.
Emma: Ahh... oh...
After a while, our lips parted with a soft sigh.
Silvio: It might be better to take this off too, before it gets soaked.
He lowered my underwear slightly, and I felt the dammed-up honey threatening to spill over.
(Silvio seems completely unfazed. I'm trying to be bold, but...)
I pulled down my underwear along with Silvio's fingers.
Now completely naked, I tried to take off Silvio's pants, but then---
Emma: Whoa!
Silvio sat up and pushed me back down.
He lifted my legs and pressed my knees up near my face, exposing my most private parts.
Emma: W-wait a minute, this position is too embarrassing!
Silvio: You really aren't drunk, are you?
When I flailed my legs, Silvio let go of them with a mischievous laugh.
(Was I really bold enough to accept this position last night...?!)
I hurriedly covered myself between my legs with my hands, the air feeling slightly cool against my skin.
Silvio: Seems like you didn't have enough to drink.
Silvio: Now, move yer hands. Your turn is over.
Emma: Ah...!
He moved my hands away, and his fingertips sank into my thoroughly wet center with a soft sound.
As he stirred inside me, even my resolve to "be bold" melted away––
(As I thought, just being a little drunk isn't enough.)
(That drink I had last night... I need something that will make me lose myself completely.)
After that, I was thoroughly loved by Silvio as usual, and drifted off into a sweet slumber.
-
-- The next day.
Shopkeeper: I do have what you're looking for––but are you the one drinking it, young lady?
I was visiting the tavern that was said to have the largest selection in town, my appearance modestly concealed.
Emma: Yes.
Shopkeeper: I think you should reconsider. Well, you have enough money, so...
Shopkeeper: Here you go, the strongest Tanzanite liquor I have.
.
.
.
.
Part 1 | Part 3
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#ikepri translations#ikemen prince translations#a love tailored to you translation#custom made love story translation#silvio ricci#ikemen prince silvio ricci
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