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dreamcubed · 8 months ago

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you need to calm down | theodore nott x reader

song; you need to calm down [taylor swift] pairing; theodore nott x fem!muggle-born!reader genre; e2l, smut, angst word count; 5,9k timeline; subsidiary 8th year warnings; swearing, alcohol consumption, implied drug consumption, hook-up, drunk sex, piv, oral sex (male and female receiving), discrimination (muggle-borns), smoking, violence, blood, mentions of the war, arguments, yelling summary; after returning to hogwarts for a subsidiary 8th year to make up for the loss of 7th year due to the war, you are a completely different person, and muggle-born-hating theo finds himself obsessed with you

masterlist

"stressing and obsessing about somebody else is no fun."

MINORS DNI!!! 18+ content.

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In the time that the Second Wizarding War had been going on, you had been absent from Hogwarts, attending a muggle school under a fake name. Also in that time, you had changed significantly, partially to help your cover, but also because you had made muggle friends with similar styles and decided that you loved it. There were no uniforms at muggle college, so you were able to explore. These days you loved having black hair, having both your septum and nose pierced, and dressing almost entirely in black.

Your witch friends hadn't recognised you when you showed up at the Summer party you had received an invite to, after Voldemort was defeated and you were able to come out of hiding. The party you were attending was for seventh and eighth years— eighth year being introduced as a subsidiary for the education lost last year. Even most of those who had attended seventh year elected to return, as the final exams had never taken place, and what they had learned had been heavily rooted in the dark arts.

The party was booming, the walls of the massive house shaking with the sound of the music. You had consumed your fair share of alcohol, amongst other things, and had enjoyed catching up with everyone you had missed so dearly.

And that was when you saw him watching you.

Theodore Nott, a Slytherin boy in your year, who was from a wealthy pure-blooded family. A cigarette hung from his lips, and the smoke billowing around him sent a shiver up your spine. He was a sexy man, personality aside, and intoxicated you conveniently forgot about his attitude towards muggle-borns. Fuck, maybe he had changed?

He started approaching you, eyes raking up and down your accentuated figure, and he lingered a while on your fishnets. When he was close enough to talk, he said a simple statement, "I've never seen you before."

Theodore Nott hadn't changed. Not one bit. While he had never wished death upon muggle-borns like Voldemort, he had despised them— viewed them as lesser than he. He had seen you, laughing with your friends and seductively moving your hips, and assumed you were from the year below. You knew in that moment that he didn't recognise muggle-born goody-two-shoes Y/N L/N.

But, you were too drunk to ignore the red flags.

"No?" you murmured, "What are your first thoughts?"

He smirked, "I think I'm in for a very interesting night."

You chuckled, "I'll say."

His hands found your hips, and he began swaying with you to the music, which made you move your body closer to his. Even in the warmth of the room, the heat of his body hit you like an electric spark, coursing through you— straight to your core.

He moved even closer, his hot breath fanning against your neck as his hands moved round to your back. Then he lifted his head, his lips close to yours, and you let your eyes flutter shut as the kiss began. It was passionate: a hazy, powerful passion that had every hair on your body standing on end. His hands lowered to your ass, and squeezed, bringing a gasp from your lips, which he took as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

All of a sudden, he pulled away, only to whisper in your ear, "Wanna find somewhere more private?"

"Lead the way," you said breathlessly, and he took your hand in his.

Neither of you knew whose bedroom you had ended up in, but it was empty and had a lock on the door, so it was ideal. Sure, a little unlocking charm could get someone in, but hopefully they would realise what was going on inside if the door was locked.

Theo wasted no time in pressing his lips to yours again, pushing you back until you fell on to the bed, pulling him with you. He moved down to your neck, kissing and sucking in a manner that would definitely leave hickeys, before he returned to your lips. You tugged at his shirt, and he let you pull it over his head, revealing a toned chest and arms that had you drooling.

He smirked at your loss of composure and beckoned towards your shirt, "Your turn, miss."

This time, you smirked, and held up your arms to allow him to remove your upper body clothing. First your tight black mesh top, and then your bra, freeing your boobs for him to gaze at. "Look who's drooling now."

Your statement made him snap out of his shock: clearly the sight of your nipple piercings had been a new experience for him. He attacked your lips with a new fervour, then moved down to suck on your nipple and its barbell. Gasps escaped you at the sensation, and you arched your back up instinctively.

"You're so sexy," he stopped for breath, complimenting you, "How have I never seen you before?"

Your breath hitched, and for a moment the reality of the situation came back to you. Just as quickly, though, it left again, as he began work on your other nipple. It was a wonderful feeling, but you needed more, so you pushed him over until you were on top and began unbuckling his trousers.

His dick was big and thick, and you could tell by the glint in his eyes as he looked down at you that he knew and was proud. You shook your head, bringing your lips to the tip and pressing a gentle kiss. Your teasing didn't last for long, however, as you soon gave into the urge to take it into your mouth. He groaned deliciously in response, and you took that as your cue to lick a strip up the side as you began fondling his balls.

"Just like that, baby," he moaned, making you realise he hadn't even asked for your name.

You took him in your mouth again, this time going as far down as your throat would allow, feeling the urge to gag building up in you. His louder groans made the effort worth it, though, as you deepthroated him. Pulling away for breath, you looked up at him with doe eyes and said, "If I'm sucking your dick, you might as well eat me out." And with that, you pulled your tights and panties down, leaving only your skirt on, before sitting on his face assertively.

The action made him groan more, and you leaned down to continue work on his dick as you felt him find your clit almost immediately. His tongue ministrations had you moaning around his dick, making you begin grinding on his face out of reflex. If you weren't drunk, you wouldn't be nearly this shameless and forward.

To his credit, he ate you out like a man starved, and it wasn't long before the pleasure became so much you had to give up on his dick and give in to the sensation.

"Fuck, Theo, I'm gonna come," you moaned, and his movements only got quicker, until you felt your core tighten and then release. Your body convulsed as he rode you through the high.

Eventually, you got off his face.

"D'you have condoms?" you asked, knowing he hadn't yet finished and also that you weren't yet satisfied.

"Always." He reached for his trousers over the side of the bed and pulled a condom out of his wallet.

You took it from him, tearing the packet with your teeth whilst making eye contact, and carefully sheathing his dick. His breath hitched once you were done: the only warning you got before he got up and pushed you down on to all fours, lining himself up behind you. The push in wasn't difficult, since you were quite well prepared, but it was still sensationally tight for him.

"Fuck, baby," he grunted, pushing in the last couple inches, "You feel so fuckin' good. So wet for me."

In reply, you moaned, and he took that as his cue to begin moving.

He pushed up your skirt to slap your ass, leaving a red imprint on your cheek, before gripping your hips and picking up the pace. You became a mess beneath him, even more so when one of his hands snuck around to begin rubbing circles on your clit. The bedsheets were crumpled in your hands with how tight you were gripping them, but Theo didn't stop.

"Oh, fuck, I'm gonna-" he cut himself off with a grunt.

"Me too," you squeaked out.

"Come with me." The assertive way in which he said it had you falling apart yet again, and by the way his movements were becoming sloppy, you could guess that he was too. When he then collapsed next to you, you knew that your guess had been correct.

Turning to lay on your back, you let out a content sigh.

"You know my name," he said.

You chuckled breathlessly.

"Who are you?"

You shrugged, deciding that you had given yourself enough time to regain your composure and getting up off the bed to clothe yourself. "You'll see," you said as you pulled your final clothing item back on.

And, with that concluding comment, you left Theo speechless on a random bed of the host's house.

***

You told no one of that night, deciding that you didn't need to hear your friends say what a stupid idea it was for you as a muggle-born to fuck a pure-blood supremacist. You already knew that yourself, but that didn't stop you from dreaming about how his tongue felt against your pussy, or how his hands felt on your body. Merlin, it was the best sex that you had ever had, and it just had to be with someone who would never want you again after finding out the truth.

It was on the train to Hogwarts that you saw him next. Despite how excited you were to return to the castle after over a year, the anxiety of your next meeting with Theo had been consuming you. And, in a lit up train in your classic school uniform, you were a lot more recognisable than in the dark in your own clothes. Especially considering you were with your friend group.

You stared at him as he stood in the doorway of you and your friends' compartment, with Mattheo Riddle and Lorenzo Berkshire stood behind him. They were likely on the hunt for some younger years to belittle.

"Well, Miss Goody-Two-Shoes has certainly changed a lot, hasn't she?" Riddle chuckled from behind Theo, who was simply staring at you with widened eyes and a clenched jaw.

"Theo? Mate? You alright?" Berkshire asked, snapping his friend out of his daze.

"Yeah, yeah, fine," he said dismissively, "Let's go."

His friends appeared confused, but didn't question it.

Your friends, however, did.

"What the fuck was up with that?" your best friend, Elena, asked, "Is the man scared of a couple piercings or something?"

She didn't even know what she was saying when she said that, you thought to yourself, thinking back to his reaction to your nipple piercings. You simply shrugged at her, "He just hates to see a muggle-born succeed."

Everyone agreed with hums, and the conversation shifted to other subjects.

***

Theodore Nott had spent the last two weeks of Summer wondering what the fuck the mysterious girl he fucked at a party meant by, "You'll see," and then following that up with a wank using memories of you. But, in that moment, stood in front of you on the Hogwarts Express, where you were in better lighting and more recognisable attire, he felt the world crash down around him.

How had he fucked a mudblood? The one thing that was ingrained into his brain since childhood to never do? Ever? The worst part is, he hadn't just liked the sex, he had loved it. He had already had numerous wet dreams about your lips and your boobs and your ass. And now? Now he had to push all of that aside because he couldn't ever fuck you again.

He just couldn't.

"Theo- Earth to Theo," the voice of Lorenzo next to him brought him from his thoughts.

"What?" he snapped back.

"What's got you so worked up?"

Mattheo chuckled, "Can't you see him staring at mudblood L/N? I can't tell if you wanna kill her or fuck her."

That statement earned Mattheo a glare from Theo.

"Maybe both?" Lorenzo suggested, making them both laugh.

"Who was it again that you hooked up with at the party?" Mattheo asked before shovelling food into his mouth.

"He didn't say, remember? Said she never told him her name."

"It doesn't matter," Theo spat.

Lorenzo and Mattheo exchanged looks as realisation dawned on them, and they both slowly turned to Theo who was still glaring daggers in your direction.

"No, you didn't..." Mattheo said first.

Theo said nothing.

"You fucked a mudblood," Lorenzo stated, finishing Mattheo's thought.

"You didn't realise it was L/N," Mattheo continued.

"She'd changed a lot, okay?" Theo said angrily, "I thought she was from the year below or something."

His two friends began howling with laughter, meanwhile Theo sat brooding in silence at the Slytherin table.

***

Saturday rolled around, and you were relieved to be able to shed the school uniform and tug on your clothes that had become an important part of you. Thankfully, Hogwarts hadn't been too strict about your piercings, in fact you had even received compliments from some professors. But, honestly, the rules weren't all that strict since it was still a sensitive time with many grieving from the war.

The Summer weather was still lingering, and you basked in the sunlight as you walked down one of the open hallways, watching first years giggling amongst themselves as they played with their new magic skills. It brought a smile to your face, to see things returning to normal; you had missed Hogwarts dearly while you had been away, not knowing how long you would have to remain in hiding. You had even begun applications for muggle university— because, really, how could you have known whether it would be one year or ten before you could freely be a witch again?

You turned a corner, and in your drifted thoughts, didn't notice the person walking around the other way until it was too late and your shoulders had shoved against each other.

"Shit, sorry," you muttered, realising all too late that it was Theo. He was glaring at you, just like he had at every meal and every class you shared all week.

"Watch where you're going, mudblood," he snapped.

Rolling your eyes, you mumbled, "Wasn't a problem three weeks ago."

"Never speak of that," he said lowly, his voice threatening.

"Why? Annoyed sex with a mudblood was good?" you retorted, and then you found yourself pinned up against the wall.

"Watch your mouth, miss."

"Don't you mean 'baby'?" you smirked, relishing in the way his eyes darkened.

You almost missed the way his gaze flicked to your lips, but then he pulled away, refusing to look at you.

"Fuck you, L/N," he spat, storming off, and you watched in amusement with your back still against the wall.

***

Theodore Nott was livid. Absolutely livid. You wound him up in the worst way possible, only for him to try and scare you- fail- and then find himself wanting nothing more than to smash his lips on to yours. When you reminded him of the pet name he used while you were fucking, the blood in his body rushed straight to his dick: the feeling of his arms gripping yours and the close proximity had felt electric. Your very presence set him on fire in every single way possible.

He hated every second.

With previous hook-ups, he had hooked up a few more times with them until he had gotten bored and moved on to the next. Before he found out who you were, he had been planning on doing the same, and now the fact he couldn't was driving him crazy. He thought about you every minute of the day, every minute of the night, and- unfortunately- whenever his hand was wrapped around his dick. And, after his interaction with you in the hallway, he knew that he needed a good fuck from at least a half-blood, if not a pure-blood.

Yes, that was all it was, his body was desperate for sex and as you were the last person he fucked, his thoughts simply went to you first. That was all it was.

Definitely.

***

Potions lesson on Monday rolled around quicker than you would have liked, but it wasn't all bad, as Slughorn was a nice enough professor. You sequestered yourself next to your best friend, ready to begin the lesson. He had promised you all your first practical lesson today, and you were excited to use a cauldron again after so long.

The only real downside of the class was that Theo was in it, and he seemed even angrier (if that was possible) than he was last week. His eyes were pinned on to you like you had murdered his family. You shrugged it off, setting up the work station while Elena went to fetch the various ingredients that you required.

Meanwhile, Theo sat across the class from you, feeling incredibly frustrated. Saturday night, he had tried to fuck another girl, but he couldn't get himself hard until he imagined that she was you. And, even then, he couldn't finish. His imagination couldn't go as far as making her feel and act like you, after all. Now, all he knew, was that you were his enemy, and his remedy. And you had the audacity to act so calm and unbothered all the fucking time.

"Your obsession isn't healthy," Mattheo spoke from next to him, dumping the potion ingredients on the table.

"It's not an obsession."

"What is it, then?" his friend scoffed, "Love?"

Theo furrowed his eyebrows.

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

Mattheo watched as Theo rose to his feet and began haphazardly chopping ingredients, the tiny knife taking the brunt of his anger.

"If it's affecting you so bad, just fuck her again."

"She's mudblood."

"It's not like you're impregnating her," Mattheo reasoned.

Theo sighed deeply, "It's not that simple. I've had it trained into me since birth that we don't associate with mudbloods."

"Well," Mattheo shifted on his feet, "Parents aren't always right."

"Since when did you sympathise with them?"

"I don't- I just," Mattheo muttered something inaudible to himself, and then said, "I don't want people to think I'm my father."

Theo said nothing.

"I'm just saying, mate, your mother's dead and your father's in prison for life— who gives a fuck what they think?"

"It's the principle."

"What even is the principle?"

"What would Draco think? Lorenzo? All of our friends?"

"Draco's not the man he was before the war," Mattheo said quietly. He knew better than anyone, being Draco's cousin, he had grown up with him due to his parents' absence. "I'm just saying. Maybe we should leave some beliefs in the past."

"You've gotten soft," Theo grumbled, "Just last week you were shitting on me for fucking her."

Mattheo shrugged, "Force of habit, I guess. I've just been doing a lot of thinking lately."

"That's rare."

"Shut up."

***

Truth was, despite all of Theo's dick behaviour and discrimination of your kind, you still found yourself waking up in a sweat thinking about his hands roaming your body. That goddamned Slytherin was the bane of your existence and the reason for your catharsis. He had diseased you, plagued you. He was a parasite that you couldn't get rid of, that was eating away at your sanity. What happened to your self respect? To your pride? You got fucked into heaven, that's what. And now your sexual urges were spreading like fire all throughout your bloodstream.

Wanking didn't feel the same anymore— your fingers didn't hold the electricity and passion that Theo's did. You craved him like a drug: and that's exactly what he was. He was something you shouldn't do, something that was bad for your health, but something that could have you seeing stars. Why did he have to be a blood supremacist?

But would it feel this intense if he wasn't? Maybe you two being forbidden, being star-crossed, was the reason that it made you feel so alive. You loved the fact he stared at you, even if it was with fury so powerful it made his whole body shake. It made you feel as if you had gotten to him the way he had gotten to you.

Just one taste of heaven had left you wanting to experience it a thousand times over.

"Get your shit together, Y/N," you cursed to yourself, forcing yourself out of bed.

"What was that?" one of your dorm mates asked.

"Nothing," you replied, "Just going crazy."

"Aren't we all?" she agreed.

***

"Party in the Slytherin dungeons tonight," Pansy stated to you one hellish week later.

You blinked at her, "And I'm invited?"

The girl nodded, evidently feeling awkward, "A lot of us are trying to- uh- make amends with mud- muggle-borns."

You raised an eyebrow at her near slip-up.

"Look- I'm- I'm sorry for how I treated you in the past," she said, actually appearing genuine, "It wasn't right."

"Um, thank you," you replied hesitantly.

"I know I don't speak for all the Slytherins, but a lot of us have done some thinking over the Summer," she continued, "We've lived in an echo chamber for too long."

That you agreed with.

"And, honestly, I think you're really cool- and I hope we can be friends."

You were taken aback by her words, never imagining that a pure-blood like Pansy Parkinson would be saying such words to you. But, maybe, forgiving her wouldn't be such a bad thing. "I... forgive you, I think," you said slowly, "I hope we can be friends too."

She gave you a small but warm smile, "Thank you. Will I see you there?"

You nodded cautiously, "Yeah, I think so."

"Great, uh, come say hi when you get there."

And with that, she disappeared, leaving you in a state of shock and confusion.

***

"Why are there so many mudbloods here?" Lorenzo asked irritatedly, sitting down on the sofa next to his friend group.

"Be civil, Enzo," Pansy gently scolded, "They're witches and wizards just like us."

"But they're not, though. Right, Matt?"

Mattheo shrugged slightly, "I'm with Pansy on this one, I think."

"See, Enzo? Even the Dark Lord's son agrees with me."

Mattheo grimaced at being reminded of who his father was.

"What about you, Theo?" Lorenzo asked.

But Theo wasn't listening, too busy glaring at you with his jaw clenched as you entered the common room, dressed up in an annoyingly similar way that you were back at the Summer party. Lorenzo followed his gaze, but he already knew where it would be leading to.

"Theo is not the person to ask," Blaise chuckled, appearing out of nowhere and sitting next to Theo, "I reckon he's about two interactions with L/N away from saying 'fuck it' and accepting his fate."

"What fate?" Theo snapped.

"The fate of falling in love with a muggle-born," Pansy said with a giggle.

"I'm not falling for her."

"Yeah, you just think and talk about her all the time," Draco, who had been quiet the whole time, spoke.

"Do you not have a problem with it?" Lorenzo asked Draco.

The blond boy shrugged, "I have a lot of regrets regarding muggle-borns. I don't want anymore."

Lorenzo groaned.

"Times are changing, Enzo," Pansy said gently, "I think you should change with them."

The man scowled and stormed off.

Meanwhile, you had finally spotted Pansy across the room, surrounded by the Slytherin boys— including Theo. You took a deep breath, deciding for the sake of a potential friendship you would have to bear it and fulfil her request of saying hi. You arrived at their group moments after you had seen Berkshire leave angrily.

"Uh, hi," you said to Pansy.

"Hi," her face lit up, "Have you got a drink? I'll get you one."

"Oh, thank you."

"It's no worries— make yourself comfortable," she then turned to the boys, "Play nice."

Mattheo raised his hands in mock surrender, but all Theo did was keep his eyes glued on to you.

Zabini shifted along the sofa, gesturing for you to sit in between him and Theo, which you cautiously accepted. The second you felt the warmth of Theo's thigh brush against yours, sparks jolted through your body, and you nearly jumped. You could have sworn you heard his breath hitch, too. This was the first time in two weeks that he wasn't looking at you, instead his eyes were trained ahead like he was retaining every ounce of self control within him.

"The sexual tension is suffocating," Mattheo remarked, standing up to go after Pansy.

His statement seemed to fuel the flame that you had desperately been trying to keep dim inside of you, and suddenly staying sat next to Theo seemed like an entirely impossible task. You were not nearly drunk enough for this. Thankfully, Pansy returned quickly with Mattheo lingering behind her, and she handed you a glass.

"Firewhiskey and coke," she said simply.

"Thanks," you accepted the glass, and downed the entire thing, "I'll get another one."

You left them all, hearing Pansy scold Theo for scaring you off, but you could still feel his eyes burning holes into your back. Just a couple more drinks and then you would join the dance floor, you decided.

And there you soon were, grinding up against a Hufflepuff boy with liquid courage flooding through your veins. You had just about managed to push Theodore Nott to the back of your mind, but you knew that it was only a temporary fix. This Hufflepuff boy was attractive, but he didn't set you alight.

"Someone's jealous," Blaise chuckled, watching as Theo glared daggers at the boy you were dancing with. Ever since you had joined the dance floor, he had been necking back drinks like his soul depended on it, and it just might. With every gulp, he was feeling more reckless and dangerous. "Accept it, mate, you're in deep."

Theo let out a sound that bordered on a growl.

"The only thing stopping you is yourself."

And as Blaise's words sank in, and the Hufflepuff boy appeared to be going in to kiss you, something snapped within Theo. In a flash, he was on his feet and taking large purposeful strides in your direction. Then, the Hufflepuff boy was torn from your side and being punched directly on the nose with such a force he toppled over. He didn't even get a chance to fight back as Theo continued to hit him, merciless in his moves.

You stood in shock watching the scene unfold before you. After what felt like forever, Mattheo and Lorenzo showed up, pulling Theo off the poor boy who had done nothing wrong.

"What the fuck was that for?" the boy yelled, blood pouring down his face.

Theo said nothing, glaring at him as he finally stopped fighting his friends' grip.

"You need to calm down, mate," Mattheo said sternly, digging his fingers into his friend's bicep.

"Theo." You said, unaware what your intentions were when the name slipped out of your mouth. Regardless, his eyes snapped to yours, appearing to soften slightly as he observed your fearful stance.

What was stopping him, really? Did the purity of his bloodline really matter to him that much?

"I think you two need to talk," Mattheo said firmly, "And I think one of you in particular- not naming any names- needs to get over his own bullshit excuses and give into what he wants."

Theo's bloodied hand wrapped around your wrist, tugging you in the direction of the Slytherin dormitories. You didn't fight him, strangely feeling your fear slip away despite what you had just witnessed Theo be capable of. When you were stood in his empty dormitory, face to face, you knew that you would have to be the first to say something.

"You were jealous," you said it as delicately as you could.

He said nothing, not even looking at you. This made you angry— enraged, even.

"Fucking look at me, Theo!" you screamed, "You haven't had any difficulty with it all week— staring at me like I'm the shit on your fucking shoe!"

His eyes locked on to yours.

"If you regret fucking me, just say it!"

"I don't regret it," he said, his volume low but tone dangerous, "Everything I've been raised to believe wants me to regret it but I can't."

You stood, stunned at his confession.

"I need you like I need water, you're an itch I can't scratch," he was stepping closer to you, making you step back, "You make me feel fucking ecstasy and misery all at once."

Your back hit the wall, and he grabbed your wrist again, bringing it to press against his crotch.

"Do you feel what you do to me?" he said darkly, "I've never been so hard in my life."

You gulped, "I'm not just gonna be another of your bitches, Theo, so forget it." Even though you wanted it so bad, and you were dripping from your core.

"That's the thing, L/N," he chuckled sinisterly, "I don't think I could ever get enough. I don't think anyone else will be able to satiate me ever again."

You jaw dropped.

"I think..." he continued, "...that you're a drug I got addicted to after only one hit."

You closed your mouth, looking up at him expectantly.

"And I don't think I ever want to be sober from you."

"But, I'm a muggle-born-"

He cut you off by slamming his lips on to yours with such furious passion your mind became hazy as you eagerly returned the kiss, lifting up your arms to wrap them around your neck. For a moment, he pulled away, just to whisper, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I don't think I care. I think I just want you in every humanly possible way."

"Then have me," you murmured.

It became a blur as his lips crashed on to yours yet again, and he picked you up by your thighs with his blood stained hands, leaving imprints on your bare skin through your fishnets. He moved you over to his bed, kissing down your neck while he blindly reached for the hem of your top. He wasted no time in pulling it off, along with your bra, so he could continue kissing down your body.

You relished the sensation— savouring it— feeling like you were the only girl in the world. Theo was treating you with such roughness and yet such care, like he had tunnel vision for you and only you.

He pulled off his shirt, before moving down to pull down your skirt, fishnets, and panties all at once. You watched breathlessly as he dived into your leaking pussy and ate you out like a man starved. He groaned, murmuring, "I've missed this taste so fucking much," before continuing his ministrations, eliciting the filthiest moans from you that had ever been produced. This felt even better than the last time.

"You are my goddess," he licked up your pussy, "And my devil."

He began sucking on your clit, and your body felt as if it was lifting from the bed as your orgasm hit you like a shockwave, coursing through your body and sending you to places you had only brushed against before.

"Fuck, Theo," you moaned, "Please fuck me."

The man didn't need telling twice, unbuckling his belt and kicking off his trousers. He didn't waste any time going to his bedside table to grab a condom out of the drawer, tearing it open and pulling it on in record speed. You would have helped him, but your orgasm had you borderline paralysed.

And, then, he was lining up in front of you— for the first time in his life, all he wanted was to fuck missionary. He wanted to see your face (and your nipple piercings that had him drooling) and he wanted to see your expressions as you came undone below him. To him, this was the most intimate that you could get in sex, and he only wanted that with you.

He groaned louder than he had ever groaned when he let himself push inside you, knowing that no other pussy would ever feel as magical as yours. Knowing that he should never have even considered depriving himself of this for some stupid blood purity reasons.

"Fuck, baby, you feel fucking amazing," he breathed out. You reached your arms up, gesturing for him to come down closer to you.

Theo obeyed, kissing you as he began thrusting, while his bloodied hands explored every inch of you, leaving a trail as they went.

"I'd rub your clit, but I don't want to get blood there," he said through heavy pants. You couldn't help but let out a small giggle, moving your own hand down to aid yourself along.

Your moans increased tenfold, as did his pace, and it wasn't long before he was biting down on to your neck in order to contain the groans that were fighting their way out of him. Who would have thought that such plain love making could make him feel so on top of the world?

"Theo- I'm gonna come," you choked out, and the way his teeth sank deeper told you that he was going to as well. As you both reached heaven in unity, he gave up suppressing his moans, and gave you the most melodious earful that you had ever heard as his movements became sloppy and tingles spread through your veins.

Eventually, he collapsed on top of you, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, stroking his hair gently as you lay in a post-sex haze.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, making your brain short circuit.

"You what?"

"I'm sorry for being a pretentious asshole."

A smile creeped on to your face, "So, is this just a sex thing, or...?"

"Fuck no," he snapped, "I need you all the time. You're mine."

"So, it's a girlfriend boyfriend thing?"

He froze, but then relaxed, and said into your neck, "Yeah, I guess it is."

"You guess?"

He sighed, "Well, you've ruined me for anyone else."

————————————————

masterlist

written; 07/04/2024 —> 08/04/2024 published; 10/04/2024 edited; —/—/——

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meanbossart · 3 months ago

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LORE ASK COMPILATION: "Still not banging Halsin, Squid Games, Sun King, Failing at love quizzes, Bottoms, Tops, and Cats" Edition

He didn't, Halsin wasnt around for act 3, too busy healing land and saving ghost children or something!

THANK YOU/I'M SORRY, I'm surprised there isn't more Bhaalist Dark Urge/Spawn Astarion stuff out there. Don't get me wrong, I love a good evil power couple, but who can resist the good ol'heartbreak of a vicious unending cycle brought on by your own senselessness!

That wasn't something I was interested in previously just because acquiring the slayer form isn't part of his canon, but I've been looking at enough fromsoft games' monster designs that I might be a little inspired to try LOL

Also I am just a fan of the canon design and never before thought it needed altering. But I'll let it cook ;)

God damn it.

DU drow was VERY antagonizing towards the emperor since the moment he dropped the facade, which made the attempt ESPECIALLY hilarious - that poor guy is so, so lonely.

I don't recall the exact wording in-game, but once the emperor took his shiny squid pecs out and shot his shot, DU drow recoiled and called him disgusting. After having the visions of Stelmane forced upon him to make whatever baffling point the emperor was trying to make, DU drow smugly asserted that he had finally let the mask slip and their very terrible date ended with the Emperor enforcing their reluctant need for one another, for the time being.

In-prose, that would honestly be pretty much it. DU drow would have reacted with absolute revulsion at the prospect of being hit on by a mindflayer, and taken the Emperor's (miscalculated) moment of lashed-out vulnerability as a win - as proof that he was exactly as duplicitous as he always assumed the Emperor to be.

I can assure everyone that I am as entertained by the thought as the rest of you and it is in the cards for future art, I just have... So many prompts... I have at least 5 different mini-comics I want to make, BESIDES singular pieces, BESIDES the fanfic... I wish I had more time and more hands.

But DU drow's unlikely semi-success as a parental figure is hilarious to me. I think about it constantly.

I haven't entertained that thought much because its antithetical to DU drow's character. Whether "good" or evil, he wouldn't allow Astarion to ascend because of his fear of no longer being needed and his reluctance to watch his partner be consumed by out-sourced power and changed into something he despises. Realistically, in a world where Astarion is allowed to ascend they could only break up and inevitably kill each other soon after.

That said, I am fascinated by the Sun King and the implications that path has for his character. So far that is an arc that I can only really see Astarion taking on alone, though - that might change in the future, might not. We'll see!

IF I CAN MAKE IT NOT ENTIRELY MISERABLE, I JUST MIGHT.

He got 2 out of 3 questions wrong - which is to say he was way too honest and Astarion didn't like that.

Except for the "when is he the happiest" question, which he correctly answered with "when he's neck deep in gore".

This is not even a lore-embelishment, this is actually how that scene went for me and I cackled about it for ages.

He would love to get tied up for old-times' sake. I doubt he knows much about fancy knots but Astarion might (though I might be in a minority that doubts his enforced "sex life" was actually that interesting at all.)

Thank you so much!

You are mostly correct. Bhaalist drow, both pre and post tadpole would be much more keen on the idea of having people around who fulfill their every desire - EXCEPT for killing. That is a joy they take on for themselves.

"Canon" DU drow values his independence a lot, on the other hand. He's neutral on the idea of slavery (what a sentence) and wouldn't be opposed to temporary servicing, but the idea of having someone around waiting for orders doesn't attract him at all, or at least would get on his nerves quick. He much preffers to do things himself and makes sure that other people see how much he does not need assistance.

The answer is yes, basically LOL.

DU drow both adores and despises Sceleritas presence and he doesn't know why. It very much reflects the type of relationship they used to have prior to DU drow's memory loss, and it's one of those things that he has conflicting feelings about but not any context for them.

I sadly doubt that the boys would become parents during Shadowheart's lifetime (it's for the best, they have a lot of work to do before I would trust them not to drop a baby), but honestly she strikes me as really liking kids as long as she doesn't have to, well, have them LOL.

And thank you so much for enjoying them and humoring me!

I think it is less about bottoming-topping and more about enjoying a more submissive role during sex, as well as in other scenarios. He believes that giving control away is, in a way, a show of devotion that goes both ways - his own for the willingness to do so, and his partner's for not taking advantage of it despite his wanting them to do so.

With one-night-stands (which he occasionally had pre-tadpole) he would still bottom without any of the submissiveness. This is because he didn't have the capacity to understand what it was about bottoming that attracted him, and led him to feeling constantly unfulfilled and frustrated (he just isn't build for no-strings-attatched type of arrangements, lol.)

This means that he really could operate either way depending on the partner as long as he got that fix of docility, whether it be from the bottom or top.

I think of Astarion as being similarly versatile but leaning more in the opposite direction when it comes to power-dynamics - though it being less about dominance itself and more about being pampered and catered to - and, of course, getting to do what he wants. Though he's willing to try most things a partner is particularly enthusiastic for just to see how he feels about it.

That said with DU drow he does prefer to top for a plethora of reasons.

I didn't have this piece of lore thought-up at the time, but I should have made them look like the lady he lost his virginity to.

Him and Astarion were gobbling those things up until the emperor reveal, then they both quit it cold-turkey after DU drow stomped the astral-tadpole dead (and back then you didn't have to roll any dice to do it, because otherwise we would have weird veiny DU drow to deal with for sure because he would NOT have suceeded that save.)

DU drow's feelings towards animals is a constant in every iteration of his character. They are organic little pieces of art wandering about the world that act upon their own laws and regulations, ones which humanoids aren't privy to - except for when they intrude into that world through magic and try to understand it through their overly-complicated systems and concepts. If a cat made the temple it's home, it can stay.

#ask compilation #du drow and astarion #bg3 spoilers #du drow lore

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directdogman · 4 months ago

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Dogman, how do you write SO WELL!?!? I love all your characters and I need to know what/where you find inspo from...

Ha. Every writer is just someone who apes the creative processes of their inspirations. For video game writing specifically, there's two answers for me.

Toby Fox is always gonna be a huge inspiration for me. I've written plots and characters before and had to abandon ideas after realizing I'd accidentally written part of UT again. Even some of the ideas I used were undeniably inspired by UT in a subconscious way and ofc, I included several explicit references to UT in my last series. Toby's a very clever guy who likely pays very close attention to the art he consumes and tries to figure out how to maximize how much his work connects with his audience. Whatever his process is, it works.

The other answer is a lil funnier: Scott Cawthon, but specifically the legend, not the man. For context: Back in the earlier days of the FNaF fandom, people had a hyper-inflated view of Scott Cawthon's writing skills that largely came from how little of a presence he had back in those days. In the vacuum of Scott actually explaining his own process in detail, people got caught up in his genuinely creative way of hiding exposition in his games using cryptid and (then) unexpected methods, and a narrative formed (one that he's since refuted.)

While he never implied it tmk, fans broadly believed that he constructed these sweeping and complex narratives with tons of cohesive moving parts, with the games essentially acting like the mere tip of his lore iceberg. People even thought he wrote so much that he had whole games worth of lore outlined from the beginning! In the first Dawko interview he gave, he clarified that this wasn't the case and explained roughly what his process was (basically just outlining rough theme ideas + aesthetics for future titles.)

However, that legend made younger-me's mind run wild and any time I wrote a story, it became very difficult for me to not keep writing down ideas while completing the grunt work that followed me finishing my scripts. When I finished DSaF 1, I already had DSaF 2's draft written and by the time 2 was done, I had enough lore for a 3rd game on paper (and a lot more stuff that I didn't use.) By the time three was out, I had pages upon pages of unused concepts/story ideas and more or less just had to decide to call it quits or else I'd be pumping out entries forever!

That's why if you go back to those older games, there's references that directly refer to future plot-points in pretty casual/easy to miss ways. (Like Henry's mention in DSaF 1, Dave being heartless in DSaF 2, Jack being soulless in 1, and even Blackjack being Jack's soul in 2. Most of 3's major plotpoints are implied somewhere in 2 and some of 2's in 1.)

DT is much the same. By the time I finished writing it, I had fairly detailed drafts for arcs for each of the characters, some early material ended up getting completely recontextualized (and even modified in small ways to not conflict with the wider ideas I came up with.)

I get really into writing my stories/characters and I always wonder exactly how things ended up where they are, what characters think about but don't say, etc etc. This is why I have an obscene amount of Crown lore that I have very little to do with rn (since he impacted the whole world so deeply.)

This extra stuff also includes plenty of sequel material ideas, though I didn't think I'd even get a chance to use them since DT performed pretty meagerly before the big release and I was expecting to have to move onto something new. Though it turned out that Scott didn't actually write his games this way (by his own admission), it's the correct answer for what my core writing inspiration for writing game narratives is.

Hope this helps!

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yumeka-sxf · 8 months ago

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I try to stay away from negative topics, but after hearing talk on social media yesterday and seeing this post from @such-a-downer, I just had to give my two cents about the complaints regarding yesterday's chapter being "another short mission" and that Endo is somehow being "lazy" or whatever.

I honestly don't understand this mentality of criticizing manga-ka, or any artists really, because they aren't delivering by whatever standards you personally think are appropriate. To me, it just seems like entitlement because Endo has no obligation to cater to any specific fan's wants. This is his story to tell the way he wants, and his characters to develop at the pace he deems fit. This isn't a business contract where we're paying him to deliver content we want every two weeks without fail. If I'm consuming the fruits of someone's creative labor for free, I certainly feel no right to complain if sometimes their content isn't what I wanted or expected. I'm fine with that because 1) I know it's what they (the creator) wanted/needed at the time, and 2) even if a particular chapter wasn't my cup of tea, I know other fellow fans out there somewhere are enjoying the heck out of it, and that's cool!

We also have to remember that SxF is basically a one-man show. If Endo is busy or sick or whatever, it's not like he can have someone fill in for him to write and draw the series. That's what a hiatus is for, that's what making a short chapter instead of a longer one is for...that's how artists should be treated so they don't get burned out and stressed. Plus, art shouldn't be rushed. Any artist knows that there are times when you have trouble coming up with ideas and maybe need a little extra time to develop a more complex section of the story. To immediately jump to conclusions that he's lazy or doesn't know what he's doing is ridiculous. Maybe he didn't feel good for a few days, maybe he's been busy with other SxF events, maybe he just needed more time to get a particular future arc developed, or maybe he just has basic IRL obligations to take care of like we all do...you don't know what's going on in his life, so don't make assumptions.

Another thing to keep in mind is that it's literally impossible to please every fan. One of the comments I read for example, someone was ready to drop the series because we haven't seen much of Yor in "a while." All I could think of was "didn't she just have a pretty big role only four chapters ago when they went to the ski resort?" Plus she was the star of chapter 91, which was less than ten chapters ago. So according to this person's standards, four chapters without seeing a particular character is "too long"? What if it was only three chapters, would that be acceptable? It's not right to push our own personal standards of a series' pacing as the "correct" way: some people want to see more of character X while someone else wants to see more of subplot Y, so should both complain that the manga-ka isn't doing right whenever they focus on something else? I'm not saying you shouldn't make criticisms of a manga-ka's work, but the criticisms should come from within the narrative itself, not superficial things like chapters focusing on subplots/characters you don't want to see or not having enough "plot-advancing" content when it's not a plot-focused series.

People who have read SxF up to this point should know the general flow of the chapters: mostly slice-of-life episodic, with more plot-heavy, intense arcs once in a while, like the cruise arc and bus arc. It's an ensemble series that spends most of its chapters focused on at least one of the Forgers, but occasionally other characters here and there. That's how the series has been for years and will likely continue to be. So if you keep complaining because you only like the dramatic story arcs and not the "nothing happens" episodic chapters, then maybe the series just isn't for you. It's totally fine if that's the case, but don't act like Endo is doing something wrong because he's not providing the particular thing you want in his story.

To summarize, Endo has no obligation to cater to particular fans' standards, just as we have no obligation to keep reading his work if we don't like it. But being a fan to me means respecting the creator's pace and vision even if it's not always what I personally want. I can find something to enjoy in every chapter because I'm a fan of SxF, not a fan of one particular aspect of it. But I also will not complain every time my tastes aren't being catered to and will simply occupy myself with other things while I wait. What's the big hurry, after all? I'm in no rush for SxF to wrap up its plot and I'm glad Endo isn't rushing either.

And that's all I'm gonna say about this topic, lol. On a happier note, I'm going to finally see Code White on Thursday! 😁 More to come later~

#spy x family #sxf #spy family #spyxfamily #sxf manga #sxf manga spoilers #sxf spoilers

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highlordofkrypton · 4 months ago

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Time for me to say ONE LAST THING on all this drama, but it's important to me.

art is a form of therapy

you do not know other people's trauma, and you sure as hell cannot know a person even if they posted everything about themselves on their blog

no one holds the right to say what is valid or invalid

The ACOTAR fandom has an exquisite way of policing trauma as well as character and ship enjoyment. the fans pick and choose who is deserving of community, kinship and basic decency.

I speak a lot about empathy on my blog because I cannot know what a person is going through on the other side of the screen, and though I don't always agree, I have enough decency not to go out and make rules excluding people, insult others, while calling myself a positive space.

Just because your trauma means that you prefer to avoid certain topics or characters does not make anyone else who enjoys said character a bad person. some people, myself included, work through trauma through art.

My writing has saved my life, and the compassion I choose to give to "fictional "abusers (btw, victimhood and abuse does not come in one absolute form and you CAN be both a victim and an abuser with a capacity to change) is intentional. I do not glorify abuse, but I understand that art and humans are nuanced.

I also think it's a real privilege to look at other people's traumas, especially intergenerational trauma which is extremely hard to overcome, and say that 'nah, that person is just an abuser'.

I think it's hypocritical to claim fight against abuse, and fight for victims of abuse while carelessly flinging 'abuse sympathizers' and other insults to people you don't even know.

You realize that's a form of abuse, too? Invalidating, gaslighting, etc.

But thank you, ACOTAR fandom for teaching me:

Thank you for teaching me my trauma is only valid if I act like the way you think a victim should

Thank you for teaching me that I do not deserve respect, even if I take extreme care to create nuanced and emotional art because you don't like the character

Thank you for teaching me that if I face my abusers through art, I, myself am an abuser

Thank you for reassuring me that your fav, who is closer to my abuser almost to a R, deserves redemption because you love him more, and he is more attractive

I have never used my trauma as a credibility card to judge and be dismissive of real people in fandom. If you want to police something, police your fucking content.

People aren't content for you to consume, and vomit your unfiltered opinions on. It's time people remember what community means, which remembers interacting with other people who are not your abusers. Maybe take a second and fucking learn about other perspectives, grow as a person or whatever the fuck you need to be a decent person.

If you plan to reblog this invalidating/arguing what I've said above because blah blah you're still upset about your fav or ship, please take a second to read the post again 'cause you've lost the plot.

Now, I'm done. Peace out ✌️

Additional note: You know what I fucking do with my trauma? I make beautiful shit for everyone to enjoy. You don't don't have to read or care about my stories full of depth and nuance, but if you laugh at my fucking memes that are for EVERYONE and you turn around and shit on people, you suck.

#JK THERE'S MORE IN THE TAGS #this is NOT directed to pro tamlin community you guys have been fucking amazng #the pro tamlin community has been the most kind welcoming and accepting part of acotar #oh and special shoutout to eris and azris people you guys are cool and lucien fans #but i'm sick of this fandom overall #fun fact feyre is the most triggering character to me 🙃 and yet I'm still going to write a fic with her #also the way people shelter elain like she can't stand up for herself #and the way people lambast nesta for not taking ic shit #anti acotar #anti acotar fandom #tamlin #pro tamlin

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lass-us-slay · 3 months ago

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Alr so I was watching edits and came across Arlecchino and an idea popped into my head!

Danny Phantom as Arlecchino in DC also know as: Phantom the Knave Sovereign

(Still working on the name- Before we start I wanna say, I’m just trouble shooting rn and seeing what new ideas I could add with your guys input too. But so far this is what I have)

———

Ok so plot points:

Somehow Pariah Dark gets free of the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep, either because of Vlad or the Observants

Pariah seeing potential in Danny (and cause he was already dubbed to take Pariahs place after he was old enough) starts trying to become Danny’s parental model (much like Vlad. But Worse.)

It was annoying at first, but slowly over time, Pariah started taking his role as Danny’s “Father” too far and twisted. Wanting to make Danny strong, stronger than he ever will be.

Then one thing leads to another and an identity reveal happens. Except the Fentons now pretend Danny Fenton no longer exists, and it’s just Danny Phantom that is an after image of their boy. Which pains them so they keep their distance, but still help what they think is left of their boy.

Danny is sad about that- but he has his sister Jazz and his two best friends! He can live with his parents pretending he doesn’t exist, atleast not as Danny Fenton no he can’t- he really can’t-

Then shit hits the fan, resulting in Danny’s home dimension into imploding into itself. (Which may or may not be the fault of Pariah Dark)

Luckily Danny is able to get out with Jazz!

But he’s too angry to rationalize himself after the death of his Haunt and almost all his fraid dying. He attacks and attacks Pariah and observers and whoever that threatens his last family at every turn.

More shit hits the fan, resulting in Danny getting cursed, which really hurts Danny. Enough to do weird ghost shenanigans to his biology, (via curse), and Jazz gets caught up.

Pariah sees a golden opportunity to use this to get Danny stronger to become the next king.

But Clockwork has had enough and steps in. Only to be promptly sealed away by the still acting king; Pariah Dark. Which Danny not even knowing as he’s out for the count thanks to the curse. (Jazz is the only witness. But Pariah can’t kill her because of Danny.)

More stuff happens and now Pariah is the acting Father of Danny and Jazz (with amnesia) who are in a ghost normal(?) orphanage with other kids.

Basically Arlecchino’s childhood happens to Danny and Jazz. Just that Pariah has decided to false make Jazz his “bio” kid to mentally fuck with Danny (smol child, and poor Jazz).

Danny still sees Jazz as his sis even if he doesn’t remember

After Jazz sadly doesn’t make it, Danny faces off Pariah once more for the first time. And consumes Pariahs Core into his, eating him alive so no more Pariah for the rest or eternity.

Then remembers- holy shit his names Danny! Not Peruere, which ew- (kidding I love the name-)

Anyways Danny gets mad at Clockwork only to find him sealed and the timelines fucked- and with Clockwork being so weak since the seal-ment, it’s up to Danny to fix the mess (and the one that was caused by the Observants once more with no one on the throne)

And so now Danny travels around timelines, picking up strays and adopting them (much like Batman, but better)

That there is the rough outline of the story!! I probably will make more but I just need to organize my thoughts before going into finer things (and art!)

Also I’d like to mention- while in the orphanage, Danny’s human side takes on more physical characteristics of his ghost form. Sorta merging the two forms into one? Not sure about it.

But Danny’s human form has definitely changed, and the curse is the same as Arlecchinos from Genshin (although would be nice if someone actually explained the curse to me fully- cause I don’t get it at all 😭)

Anyways that’s it- im thinking about interactions with the kids Danny Adopts and such but that’s for another time 💀

Aight peace ✌️

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toffeebrews · 4 months ago

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tell me your Ink headcanons NOW 😼😼😼

You're... giving me permission.... to share my ink headcanons.

well get ready

Talked about this one already but I'll share it again: I think Broomie is semi sentient. I like to think at first Ink didn't know that though, but still talked to broomie anyway. So, regardless of this fact Ink probably would've talked to broomie.

He's good at encouraging people but not comforting people. If that makes sense? (projection much pfttt)

If you ran your hand over the "tattoo" marks it have a slight divot in it. Like a crack in a road. Probably because... in my hc they're literally semi healed cracks.

They're is talented in many types of art not just one. Hes talented in singing, dancing, fashion design, mechanics, and architecture! Really the only one he struggles with is well... cooking. Do NOT let that man in a kitchen (I mean he's immortal why would he not learn multiple artistic skills?)

Y'know how canon!swap climbs on people because hes insecure about his height? I think Ink does the same thing.

(More yappening under the cut)

Deep down he feels like something is missing... what he doesn't know is he's missing his home, his AU. Sometimes hes goes on a search universe to universe in search of "something important he can't remember" but can never find it. Until he gets bored, forgets what he's doing or gets preoccupied with something else.

He likes switching up his looks so he may give himself a tail or paws or claws with his brush. Maybe he even changes the color of his limbs sometimes (that's more a crack hc though). He gives themself a new outfit at any chance he can get. (Edit: I actually imagine one of the reasons he would get excited for multiverseal events is mainly because he gets to show off a new outfit for that event. He goes ALL out)

Due to his dulled sense of pain often he isn't aware he's injured unless it's pretty severe. So he may just go about their day with injuries they don't know about. Typically Dream or Swap have to be like "dude you have a crack in your skull."

After that one comic with Swap and Ink, Swap bandaged up his skull despite Ink insisting he didn't need it. Mainly because Swap didn't know Ink could heal themself and just thought Ink was being humble. Everytime he went to go take it off, Swap would freak about it hasn't had enough time to heal. Until Ink did a more through "I have a brush bro chill" (not ink accurate dialogue).

He's super flexible!! like contortionist level of flexibility.

Oddly specific but I think they're the type to consume all sorts of fan content and enjoy it. Completely ooc and fanon stuff too. He would be the type to read a fic and go "I would NOT say that" with a giggle and write a heartfelt comment anyway.

If you know homestuck... Nepeta has a shipping wall. I think Ink would have something similar (projection?? blasphemy!). Maybe in his sketchbook or smth. I mean do you see how he reacts around his dads smh 😔😮‍💨. He doesn't take it all that seriously though... LMAO. But I feel like he would be like "🏳️‍🌈?" y'know? Is this making any sense? I hope LMAOOO

Ink knows being called "child" annoys Dream so when Dream's like "I'm not a child I'm 500 years old" he just uses different synonyms of kid " heya youngster" " hi boy" stuff like that to annoy him. Just to mess with him.

He loves "aggressive affection." Like he bites people. He also likes to be bitten (not in a sus way but like in a cat like way). He loves bear hugs. Stuff like that.

He loves being drawn on, like literally. He loves the sensation of art supplies on his bones. Particularly the texture of paint and pencil are the ones he enjoys the most. He draws designs and stuff on his bones sometimes.

He has that cartoon ability to walk on walls or the ceiling and completely defy gravity. How? Cartoon skelly powers ig.

#ask #anon #ink sans #utmv headcanons #ink!sans #inktale #_tale #technically

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randoimago · 8 months ago

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Hello is it okay if I could please have headcanons for yusuke and akechi and joker and futaba from persona 5 with a animator s/o like the reader does anime or cartoon animation and probably still watches cartoons and old animated movies as someone who wants to study animation I just wanna share my passion with these guys

Fandom: Persona 5

Character(s): Akechi, Joker, Futaba, Yusuke

Note(s): Sure thing!!

Akechi

He's tried watching you animate before and he had to walk away after he watched you draw the same shape for what felt like a hundred times. He knows animation takes a lot of time and patience but he doesn't have either of those to watch.

Akechi will pull you away from the TV or whatever you're doing with your animation to spend time with him. And to make sure you've eaten or taken care of yourself. He's definitely a bit of a hypocrite when it comes to that.

Doesn't really watch cartoons with you, but he does listen as you talk about some specific effect or frame of animation. Akechi doesn't completely understand what you're talking about but you look happy so it's good enough for him.

Futaba

Oh she thinks it's really cool that you do animation. Might ask if you could show her a bit of the software you use. She's not artistic, but she loves technology and learning new things that you can do with it.

She's more than happy to watch whatever anime or cartoon with you. Probably asks you a bunch of questions about the animation too. She knows you pause and rewind quite a bit to watch the details of something multiple times so she tries her best to see whatever you saw.

Futaba would jokingly suggest doing stop motion animation with Phantom Thief dolls or something. If you decide to go with it then she'll gladly come up with a script and get to work while you get your own stuff set up.

Joker

There's many times when he'll go to spend time with you only for you to be involved in your animation. He doesn't mind it since you've visited him when he was making lockpicks or tending to Le Blanc. He doesn't know everything about animation, but he enjoys listening to you talk about it.

He likes whenever you go on tangents or talk to him a mile a minute about some new technique you learned or some new feature you figured out to help you animate more smoothly.

He is always happy to sit with you and watch some anime or something and see how you react to the animation in it. He doesn't quite know why he feels more kind after watching Studio Ghibli with you, but he's not going to object with how you seem to be very enraptured with the animation.

Yusuke

The idea of making a picture or image move is fascinating to him. He's a fan of most art mediums so if you'd like to practice animation by having him sketch a couple things out then he'd be glad too.

Yusuke is the most fascinated with 3D animation. Watching you rotating the character or object and changing details is something he enjoys doing. Although he does throw in his own input of what needs more shadows or changing the texture of something.

He'd try his hand at traditional animation if you explain it to him. Yes, it's very time consuming, but it's a new art medium and he is determined to make an attempt. The issue is he's a perfectionist so you probably won't speak to him for a few weeks while he's working on this. At least he's supportive of your career?

Taglist:

@reo-the-leo @abellaheart-blog

#honeyandbiscuitandtea-cafe #persona 5 x reader #akechi x reader #futaba x reader #yusuke x reader #ren amamiya x reader #akira kurusu x reader #futaba sakura x reader #yusuke kitagawa x reader #goro akechi x reader

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at0michips · 3 months ago

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people pleaser — art donaldson

summary: after years of worrying about other peoples needs, art finally finds the pleasure of having someone do everything it takes to make him satisfied.

Art Donaldson was known for lowering his head for a long time, as a kid if his grandma asked him to do some chore he'd drop whatever he was doing and obey her, just to hear a "Thank you nana's love, let's bake you some cookies". At boarding school, Patrick would always be making bets with him just because he knew Art would do the stupidest things just so he could see his friend smirk and pat his back saying how impressed he was that Art really did that. During his marriage things were no different, Art would do whatever Tashi said inside and out of court. He was determined to make her satisfied, to be seen and rewarded just how it happened his whole life, in all his relationships.

However, this didn't last forever. During Lily's first years of life, Art didn't felt the pressure of pleasing his wife, in fact it was the first time he didn't felt the need to please anyone around him. All he wanted to do was care and protect his baby, and he was so happy to do so, until she was big enough to stay with Tashi's mom and they had to go back to the routine. After this it seemed like something shifted and Tashi was way colder and bossy about his performance, and all of a sudden he wasn't able to please her anymore.

It did took some time, but Art finally built up enough courage to ask her for the divorce and shortly after, retire from tennis. He bought a big house, decorated Lily's room with her during recess and thought he had finally found some peace.

And for sometime he was, he kept on going to sports events, watched some tennis matches and kept as much sponsorships as he was able to. But then one day, he was invited to a sports event at Stanford, where all the students who played something would be listening a lecture he and other alumni would say how much the university helped them in their careers, answer some questions and maybe take some pictures. Nothing out of line, right?

That was until the end of the event, when one of his former professors approached him with a girl by her side. She introduced her as the top of her class and, an amazing tennis player just like you were. Art notices that he does know this girl, he remember avid movements on court, how she basically devoured her opponent. She was in fact an amazing tennis player, and also a fan of Art Donaldson.

Art learned how to aprecciate his fans more with time, enjoy the attention, and as they both walked through campus he was enjoying it too. Although she was basically asking him things about his career, he noticed how she was nervous about being around him and even stuttered sometimes, seemed to be worried about the next line.

But the moment he could see the nervousness in her eyes, was when they were sitting down both with a cup of coffee on their hands and she asked the question "i was hoping you would be my coach". The nervous girl was able to make the confident Art Donaldson spechless. Coach? Art had never thought about it, let alone after retiring, but he would be lying if he said he didn't missed the feeling of competing, and as he heard her reasons Art started to wonder if maybe, it wasn't what was missing in his new life, a little bit of his old one.

As soon as you graduated you went pro. You couldn't believe it when you heard him agreeing with becoming your coach, it seemed like a dream, you remember being eleven and watching one of his matches with your dad and immediately falling in love with Art, and just like every girl who's obssessed with a celebrity, started consuming everything related to him, and yes it meant that you also begged your parents for tennis classes. The surprise came when you were actually good at it and started to enjoy it, good enough to earn a scholarship to Stanford.

With time, your crush on him became less and less intense and eventually escaped your head. That was until your favorite professor and you were having a talk about your future and you revealed the wish to go pro to her and she started saying about how one of her best former students became a professional tennis player, and how he could help her with that.

The first time you met him, it felt like you were eleven again and as he started to coach you it got even harder.

It didn't took much time for Art to start regretting his decision, you were great, and after he started coaching you got even better. The public saw it, the brands saw it and quickly everybody noticed you, by your talent and also your coach. But being on the spotlight again was not what was bothering Art, it was how you would move as he told you, hit the ball as he told you, at how powerful he felt as you looked sad when you would screw something up during training and immediately try to fix it, was how even outside the court you were always trying to find the right words to talk to him and how eager you were to be perfect for him.

Your body became stronger, your were always showing off your toned legs and everytime your eyes weren't on the ball, they were set on him. He wasn't stupid, he knew you had a thing for him and he knew that if he asked you for any favor you'd just drop whatever you're doing and help him out, if he decided that you would receive some embarassment punishment after a mistake in court you would just do it, and he was pretty sure that if he simply bent you over the bench you would simply stick your ass up to his cock. And he enjoyed it, he genuiely enjoyed how much power he had over you.

And for that he hated himself, you were barely legally drinking while he was retired, divorced and a father, it was impossible for anything to happen between you two.

That's what he thought while he was setting down on his hotel room, it was the first time you and Art had to travel for a tournament, it was a big one and it would start the next day, however your coach wanted you to know the court you'd be playing, train a bit and enjoy a good night of sleep without having to worry about waking up late and fuck everything up. You'd be lying if you said that you weren't shaking nervous, everything you did after Art became your coach was milimetrically calculated to be perfect and meet his expectations, you were living the dream and wouldn't let it all go away with your stupid mistakes, this you could and would control. You weren't so sure about how hot he was, Art was on his 30s but he really couldn't look hotter.

You kept trying to get rid of this thoughts all day long, but the fact that he was always there watching you closely and talking to you wasn't helping at all.

Even after a cold shower and a good 30 minutes tossing and turning around your hotel bed, your mind wouldn't stop thinking about Art, not giving you any peace of mind to focus on your breath and fall asleep. Tired of it, you decided to take a walk around the hotel, hoping it would finish tiring your body. Shit, Art would be mad if he saw you awake this late? Or would he have a disappointed look on his face?

Grabbing a sweatshirt and putting it over your head was all you did before opening your door and facing your coach. “Y/N, what are you doing up this late?” he said in a low and rough voice

You looked up at Art, caught off guard by his unexpected presence. His sharp gaze met yours, a mix of concern and something more inscrutable flickering in his eyes. The hallway was dimly lit, casting shadows that seemed to accentuate the tension between you.

“I... I just needed to clear my head,” you stammered, trying to sound more confident than you felt. The late hour and the quiet of the hotel made the situation feel even more intense.

Art stepped closer, his imposing figure filling the space in front of you. His presence was both intimidating and oddly comforting. “You should be asleep,” he said, his voice softer now but still carrying an authoritative edge. “You’ve got an important match tomorrow.”

You nodded, feeling a mix of anxiety and excitement stir within you. “I know. I just couldn’t stop thinking... about everything.”

Art’s eyes softened, a rare glimpse of vulnerability from the usually unyielding coach. “Thinking about me?” he asked, his tone almost teasing but laced with something deeper.

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yeah. About how I messed up during practice and how I’m not ready.”

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “You’re ready,” he said firmly. “You’ve been working hard. But I get it. Sometimes the mind doesn’t shut off as easily as we want it to.”

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze with a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty. “I didn’t expect you to be out here. I thought you’d be asleep too.”

He smirked slightly, the corners of his lips curling up in a way that made your breath hitch. “I have my own ways of dealing with things,” he said cryptically. “And right now, it seems like you need something else to help you unwind.”

Before you could react, Art closed the distance between you, his hand gently cupping your cheek. The warmth of his touch was startling, and you could feel the electricity crackling between you. His thumb lightly brushed against your skin, sending a shiver through your entire body.

“What are you—” you started, but the words died in your throat as he leaned in closer.

His lips met yours in a kiss that was both fierce and tender. It was as if all the unspoken words, all the hidden desires, were being conveyed through that single, intense connection. You melted against him, your initial surprise giving way to a deep, burning need to reciprocate.

Art’s kiss was demanding, yet gentle, his hands sliding to your waist as he pulled you closer. Your own hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping them as if they were the only thing anchoring you to reality. The kiss deepened, both of you lost in the moment, forgetting the world outside and the looming challenges.

When the kiss finally broke, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together. Art’s eyes were dark with a mixture of satisfaction and something that could only be described as tenderness.

“You needed that,” he murmured, his voice low and rough once more. “And I needed it too.”

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. “Yeah. I think... I think we both did.”

Art’s gaze softened further, and for a moment, the stern coach was gone, replaced by someone who seemed genuinely caring and vulnerable. “Go back to bed,” he said gently, his thumb brushing your cheek one last time. “I’ll be right here if you need anything.”

You nodded, feeling a newfound sense of calm. As you turned to head back to your room, you couldn’t help but glance back at him. Art’s gaze followed you, a silent promise in his eyes.

“Goodnight, Art,” you said softly.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he replied, his voice carrying a note of warmth that lingered even as you closed your door behind you.

#mike faist #challengers #mike faist x reader #art donaldson #art donaldson x you #art donaldson x reader #mike faist imagine #mike faist fanfic #fanfiction #art donaldson fic #art donaldson imagine #smut #art donaldson smut

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creatingblackcharacters · 8 days ago

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hi there; first, thank you for making this blog and all the lessons you do, i really appreciate them as a Black person because it highlights a lot of struggles i face with fandoms in general, and why i dont interact more in certain spaces. it makes me feel seen

with regards to your questions, i'd also like answers to them from nonblack fans, especially nonblack anime fans. i don't even mean consuming anime with overtly racist caricatures of black characters (because numerous anime fans pirate their anime and never send a cent to the creators anyway), i mean how can they make fanworks of it?

how can they look at something that they are told is wildly offensive, but then defend with "well, this is how it looks in canon"? where is the line drawn between what's okay and what isn't? as long as it's slow and gradual, is there no line at all?

these are probably just rehashings of your own followup questions, so please excuse that, but i do have an anecdote

i joined a casual anime server the other day and a lot of folks were lamenting one Black character's racist design and how often those on social media will replicate it without thinking/caring. The thing that struck me is that, I've checked this character's tumblr tag regularly for a long time. There are always people who will post art/fanworks of this character with his racist design. Yet hardly ever, if ever, (outside of Black fans) have I seen any of these folks- the ones in the discord server- try to talk to artists/writers/fan creators/etc via asks/replies/etc. There's a notable amount of people in that server and a notable amount that agreed the design was outright racist and that they'll never make fanworks like that, and yet still silence

i'm not entirely sure what would be the line, or the "okay, that's enough" moment to spur any of these folks into action. i'm not sure if there is one. the only reason i don't make my own "hey what is wrong with all of you" post and blow up is because I've made a wonderful little friend group in this fandom who get it, and I don't want them to get caught up in whatever happens if I were to make a post like that

And this is just for getting people to stop using the canon design of the character, i.e., to stop drawing him as a racist caricature. This isn't touching on the people who 1) lighten his skintone [he's been horribly whitewashed over time, which has been reflected in some fanarts and fan merch], or 2) give him a looser hair/straight hair texture, rather than his type 4 hair (there's also #3, which is fanfiction with straight up slurs, and horribly racist writing in it that my friend heavily warned me not to read, but that was more of a one-off case and I've had the creator blocked a long time now).

my point being, we (Black fans) can't even get folks to stop with the caricatures, which we have to start with, and then there's even more of an annoying uphill battle with the other stuff. I'm just so tired of all of this; it makes me want delete my own works and turn away from fandom all together because i can't stand it.

trying for polite and assuming ignorance hardly ever works, speaking bluntly doesnt work at all, making public posts hardly goes anywhere (partly because of how rarely people reblog things anymore, partly because it makes people 'uncomfortable' to share this information with others). Black fans so obviously need help to combat this, and yet it's like sitting at a tea party and hearing all these pretty words in this one setting, yet nobody does anything different/better when the party's over/outside this setting.

sorry for dooming a bit, but like, genuinely i would like to know where the line is for nonblack folks? what is the point/are the points where you would speak up against antiblack racism? have you ever considered speaking up? if there's ever a moment you recognized antiblack racism and didn't say anything, why didn't you? did you consider how your lack of speaking up might affect your fellow Black fans? or how Black fans may be interpret this as silent agreement with the racists/with the racist 'norm'?

..those could maybe be alternative ways of asking your last followup question?

(if i've made any blunders or overstepped here, please let me know!)

No, I'm glad you spoke up! I too would like to see answers!

#creatingblackcharacters #fandom racism #racism #antiblackness

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votive-candle · 4 months ago

Text

So I've been considering a rebrand on this blog for a long time for "professional" reasons... like changing my username, making an official portfolio with my name to it elsewhere, etc.

This idea has been mostly motivated by this deep insecurity I have surrounding what I would say is either NSFW work, suggestive art, "fangirl" energy, all that. And it's... frustrating, to say the least. And difficult express in a way that's coherent. Because my personal feelings are that art, even art that within the sphere of industry that I want to approach (ie. game art & story design, character writing and so on), should not have to be confined within this box of "sensibilities" that I'm told it should be.

If I was doing fine art like painting, or making installations, or sculpture, I get a sense that this puritanical ideology of self-censorship would not be expected of me. I also get a sense that if I was born male and lived as a man, there would be different industry expectations of me also. If I was a cis dude I don't think a game director would mind if I had a portfolio full to the brim with borderline naked, hypersexualised women and girls with big swords and huge racks (no shade, big boobs and big swords are fun and cool). But -- and again I don't have evidence of this, it's just a hunch -- I somehow get this idea that the way I approach drawing masculine figures? The way I write and express myself through, and speak about characters? The sexually explicit artwork I've drawn over the years, which majoritively does not even show genitalia? I get this gut feeling that this would be much less... palatable (?) in the industry for commercial, media focused art.

I've been drawing sexual content since I was a teen fangirl and I think it's really strange that somehow, as I get older and more mature (and I'm serious here, like really, let that sink in? I was told directly "you're not a kid anymore, potential employers won't like this" in response to shipping art an old tutor saw me post online a few years back?), it's considered in many ways less appropriate for me to produce explicit or sexually themed artwork. Particularly when that art has that air of "fangirl" (or "fan-person" in regards to myself) around it. Because "fangirls" aren't professional, are they? They're vapid, of course. They don't consume art meaningfully, not like strong, stoic men do. No, they just want their shipping and their coffeeshop AU's and their moodboards, and there's nothing creative in that, is there? No "professional practice" there.

I just find that... baffling

I'm speaking from the perspective of someone who is borderline asexual on that spectrum, and always has been. Somehow, professionalism is partly hinged on making your art less exploratory of adult themes, once you become an adult, once you're old enough to understand and properly illustrate the importance of adult themes. Isn't that strange to anyone else? Because to me it feels wrong.

Like I said, I'm borderline asexual. I don't draw sexual content to get my rocks off. I draw it because I find physical intimacy to be one of the most multifascited expressions of humanity between people. Sex and sexuality are so dynamic in their capacity for storytelling. With it (and safely so through fiction, if you're careful about it), you can express and explore so much; passion obviously, love, but also sadness and grief and condolence, malice and rage, heartbreak, self-destruction, self-improvement, excitement, fun, even just friendship.

Sex is beautifully dynamic from a humanistic standpoint. It shouldn't need to be considered this looming force of demonitisation, or an industry blockade. And I understand I have drawings that are too graphic, too NSFW to put in a professional portfolio, to leave online for employers to see. But I'm not even talking about smut here.

Majoritively, I really don't want to distance myself from a lot of this work I've created. It means something to me dude, because these characters and stories mean something to me. Sometimes the drawing itself is just... a technically well executed drawing. I don't want to revoke that because there's an implication of "ooh, someone's touching ass, breast and dick in there!"

Yet by expressing my excitement over that, I do feel cornered. Like I'll never get hired anywhere. Which isn't easy given the struggles I already have with disability, mental health, etc. So I feel a need to sort of give in and retcon a lot of my posts.

I don't like that finding work in the fields I'm interested in kind of hinges on a lack of self-expression, I suppose. I find it bitterly ironic since I want to work in creative fields. It feels like a betrayal of the self and of the purpose of art and good media for grown individuals.

But hey, I guess that's capitalism, baby.

This blog might change a bit in the near or semi-near future. Maybe a new username or profile pic, I'm not sure yet. Maybe a second blog will pop up somewhere. I just wanted to vent a bit on my disdain in having to make these decisions. Beg your pardon.

#self indulgent rambling #im just sort of talking into the void sorry fellas

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heliads · 1 year ago

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Hi!! I’m so excited your request are open I love your work!! I would like to request Charles leclerc x reader where he finds out the girl he has a crush on is a street racer and decides to finally approach her and talk ending up in him asking her out on a date. I hope this makes sense, sorry if it doesn’t 🥲💗

'first sight' - charles leclerc

masterlist

Charles Leclerc has never found himself as thoroughly engrossed in the dynamics of street racing as he is right now. He has, of course, been vaguely aware of it before, as someone who was born in Monaco’s lap of luxury and then subsequently indoctrinated in the grand and glorious art of racing sports cars, but not like this. Never like this.

If he were in the mood to be particularly honest, Charles would admit that he’s not just interested in street racing all of a sudden because of the same need for speed that’s consumed his life and led him to Formula One. Nor is he here because he’s developed a taste past sports cars to souped up tin cans. No, he’s here because of one driver, a woman. A woman named Y/N L/N.

See, this was never Charles’ intent. He would have been able to skip this unfortunate little obsession in his life were it not for the fact that he’s best friends with Pierre, and Pierre is way too fond of his girlfriend Kika to ever say no to her. So, when Kika begged Pierre to come with her to watch a friend’s street race, Pierre decided that he simply couldn’t do it alone and forced Charles to tag along as well, because of course there’s nothing Charles likes more than third wheeling the two of them on yet another flirtatious date night.

Charles had assumed it would be another long night of alternating between wishing he was back home, worrying he should be on the simulator more often, and wondering if he should have dragged along a brother or two so he wouldn’t have to watch Pierre and Kika ogling each other for the thousandth time that night. However, all of that changed when Kika led them over to meet her friend Y/N, who was racing that evening.

Charles is no stranger to pretty people. Every race, some new slew of celebrities gets a tour of the Ferrari motorhome. Charles has seen plenty of actresses and singers pose by his car and wear his merch, but it’s never really meant anything to him. He can tell when they’re fans or if they’re just doing it for good PR. Most celebrities are just people in higher tax brackets with higher rates of avoiding their taxes. You meet one, you meet them all. No amount of perfect smiles or dazzling faces can change that.

Y/N, though, was different. She was gorgeous, and Charles immediately felt as if he might have been run over by his own car several times. One look from her and he was lost in it, tumbling over and over in his mind. She had this charming confidence that Charles could only wish to emulate, the sort of ease you get when you know you’re better than everyone and don’t need to remind people of it because you know you’ll prove it the second you get to work.

If it were not obvious by now, Charles is in love, alarmingly so. Even after Kika makes some quick introductions and Charles manages to shake Y/N’s hand and stammer out a few pleasantries about it being a nice night for a race, he’s still left wishing he could get himself together long enough to be a real human being. Y/N probably thinks he’s insane, but she’s still smiling when she leaves them, so at least he hasn’t done too terribly.

Pierre, by contrast, seems to think otherwise. Y/N is barely out of earshot when the other driver turns him, unable to hide his laughter. “Charles, man, what was that? You look like you forgot your own name.”

“I don’t need to remember mine,” Charles murmurs, watching Y/N go, “Just hers.”

Pierre rolls his eyes. “Be serious. You fall in love a hundred times a week.”

Charles sputters indignantly. “That is not true. And besides, this is different.”

Pierre can’t persuade him otherwise. The drivers on the scene that night start their engines, and Charles watches from the sidelines, captivated, as Y/N accelerates to an early win. Once the race is over, Y/N runs over to Kika, who embraces her friend with an excited hug.

“Well?” Y/N asks Charles once she’s released from Kika, “What does the Formula One driver have to say about that? Fast enough for you even without V6 engines?”

Charles does his best not to fall to pieces. “Um, yeah. It was very great.”

She flashes him a bright grin. “Perfect. See you at the next race, Leclerc.”

With that, she pushes back into the crowd, receiving congratulations and praise from her other friends. Pierre is grumbling something about not getting asked as well since Charles isn’t the only F1 driver around, but Charles just laughs, still giddy on the aftereffects of those shining eyes on his.

Pierre expects him to just bounce back from this little crush, and truth be told, Charles would appreciate it if he could, but no such luck. Even a few weeks after that first race, Charles is still hopeless over Y/N. He scans articles on street racing, memorizes the names of her competitors, and becomes an expert on her win history. She’s fast, super fast, and it looks like the easy victory Charles had seen was just a typical habit of Y/N L/N when it comes to racing.

Needless to say, he was captivated. Although Charles usually tries to keep a little pride when it comes to these sorts of things, he only made it two weeks before caving and asking Pierre if he and Kika were planning on attending any more street races. Charles wondered this for no reason, of course. Just, you know, his natural love of racecars.

Pierre sees right through it. “You want to see Y/N that badly, huh?” Pierre asks skeptically. “Jeez, man, I didn’t think you were such a simp.”

“You didn’t even know what that word meant until Kika taught it to you two days ago,” Charles says scornfully. “Now answer my question. Are you going or not?”

Eventually, and not without a fair amount of teasing, Pierre admits that they were planning to go to another race that Friday. Charles is able to convince his friend to let him tag along, but only under the condition that he would actually get up the courage to ask Y/N out instead of just staring like a lovesick puppy. Pierre’s words, not his.

This time, the race is actually legal. Y/N’s day job is a drag racer, although she tends to get bored on the weekends and shoot for a few undercover street races as well. So the fan Twitter pages say, at least. Charles definitely hasn’t been snooping around enough of those to know.

Now that he won’t get chastised by Ferrari PR for attending illegal races, Charles is free to post as much as he wishes about the race, the cars, and most importantly, the drivers. Barely half an hour has gone by before fans across the Internet are calling him out for ignoring literally every other car there to post about Y/N, but what does he care? Y/N’s probably too cool to look at those sorts of posts. Hopefully, or she’s going to think he’s insane. Again.

This time, though, when Y/N strolls by their area to say hi, she doesn’t just immediately focus on Kika. She says hi to her friend, of course, and thanks both Kika and Pierre for coming, but stops directly in front of Charles. All that separates them is the barrier of the stands. Well, that and the immutable fact that Charles is clearly crushing hard and she is clearly just having fun.

“Good to see you back, Charles,” she says.

Charles grins. He’d promised himself he’d play it cool this time, but he’s already failing at that aim. “You remembered my name?”

“I had plenty of your social media posts to remind me,” she says, one eyebrow quirked.

Pierre facepalms by his side. Charles ignores him. “I was excited,” he tells her as casually as he can. “Is that a bad thing?”

“I don’t know yet,” Y/N muses. “I suppose I’d have to get to know you better.”

“I have no problems with that,” Charles grins cheekily. “How about I take you out to dinner and you decide for yourself?”

In Charles’ peripheral vision, he can see Pierre’s look of desolation turn to slow shock, but come on now, there was no chance Charles wasn’t going to follow through and ask Y/N out. The only thing he needs now is for Y/N to say yes.

She doesn’t answer immediately, but judging by the way her cool smile brightens, it’s less because she dislikes him outright and more because she enjoys playing with him, which is perfectly fine by Charles. If he respects the game, he has to respect the players as well.

“I’ll have to wait and see how I feel after the race,” Y/N responds at last. “Maybe I’ll lose and I’ll be too devastated to go out with anyone.”

Charles rolls his eyes. “I doubt that will happen, but alright.”

Y/N gives him a surprised look. “You’re willing to bet that I’ll only go out with you if I win?”

“I’m willing to bet on the excellent odds that you win every time,” Charles answers with a wink. See, Pierre? He can be smooth when he needs to be.

Y/N laughs at that, evidently pleased. “I’ll have to make sure I don’t let you down. See you after the race, Charles.”

With that, Y/N joins the throng of other drivers heading towards their cars to begin the race. Once she’s gone, Charles turns to Pierre, far more proud than he should be. “I don’t want to ever hear you complaining about my flirting again. Did I not do what I had to do?”

“You did,” Pierre grumbles, “but she still didn’t say yes, you idiot.”

Charles scoffs. “She absolutely did. She didn’t say no.”

Pierre can’t technically argue with this, so it’s up to Kika to distract them both from technicalities by asking them about one of their upcoming races, a surefire method of changing the subject. It does little to divert Charles from his own nerves, though. Suddenly, he’s gripped with an impossible terror that something will happen with Y/N’s car, or maybe she might come in second place and not first, and she wouldn’t want to go out with him after all. He shouldn’t have left it up to chance like that. He should have just gone after what he wanted in the first place.

Charles is a nervous mess the whole race. When the checkered flag waves, though, he’s finally able to relax. Y/N wins, and that means Charles has just scored himself a date with the prettiest woman he’s ever seen.

Y/N takes her time in coming around to his section of the stands, just to mess with him. At last, though, they’re face-to-face again. Y/N is breathless and thrilled with the victory. Charles thinks he could bask in her glow forever.

“So?” He asks casually, “How about that date, then?”

Y/N grins. “I think it’ll work out. You can pick me up at seven. Does Saturday work for you?”

“Saturday is great,” Charles says a little too quickly, then tries to recover. “Wear something pretty.”

“Don’t I always?” She jokes, gesturing to her race suit.

Charles laughs with her. It’s easy. He can imagine doing it many times again. “Of course.”

Her laugh settles into a quiet smile. Even in the tumultuous uproar of a race that’s just been won, Charles can focus on her instantly. He wants this, he decides. He wants her. And, with the way she’s looking at him now, mirroring the incline of his head towards hers, Charles knows that she wants the same thing. This is just the beginning. He cannot wait to see where they go from here.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy, @juphey

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc oneshot #f1 #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 oneshot #formula one #formula one imagines #formula one x reader #formula one oneshot #f1 charles #f1 charles imagines #f1 charles x reader #f1 charles oneshot

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elryuse · 5 months ago

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yandere Minju?

Scared To Lose You

Yandere Minju (ILLIT) X Make Reader

Minju's POV

The screech of the microphone feedback jolted me back to reality. The roar of the crowd was a dull thrum in the background, a constant drone I barely registered. The spotlight hit me, a harsh glare highlighting every bead of sweat clinging to my skin. But tonight, none of it mattered. My gaze scanned the sea of faces, a relentless search for a single point of light amidst the screaming fans.

There. Second row, just left of the giant inflatable ILLIT mascot. A familiar figure, his worn light stick held aloft like a beacon. Sunshine_Y/N. His name, a secret whispered in the dead of night, a forbidden fruit I couldn't stop myself from craving.

It started innocently enough. A fleeting glance across the stage, his smile brighter than any spotlight. Then, another concert, another performance, and there he was again. Each time, he drew me in, his unwavering support a tiny pinprick of warmth in the icy grip of idol life.

One rainy afternoon, exhausted and drained, I found myself on a fancam binge. My finger scrolled, stopping on a comment - "Sunshine_Y/N." Curiosity, a dangerous thing for a guarded heart like mine, took over. I clicked.

Fan art, glowing reviews, messages gushing about ILLIT, mostly about me. A strange flutter started in my chest. Here, in the digital world, I wasn't just Minju, the cold lead dancer. I was someone he admired, someone who sparked his sunshine.

The obsession bloomed, a poisonous flower slowly wrapping its vines around me. Hours spent scrolling his social media became a nightly ritual. I memorized his birthday, his favorite color – sunflower yellow, just like his light stick – and even his dream of learning to dance like me.

The need to know more became a consuming fire. Shame battled with a strange pull, but I found myself spilling my secret to Jisoo, our manager. "There's this fan..." I trailed off, the words catching in my throat.

Jisoo raised an eyebrow, a knowing glint in her eyes. "A special fan?"

I flushed, heat creeping up my neck. "Just... A fan, okay?"

Jisoo smiled, a predator sizing up its prey. "Leave it to me, Minju."

Days later, a manila folder landed on my table. My heart hammered a frantic tattoo against my ribs as I opened it. It was Y/n's life, meticulously documented, a violation laid bare in black and white. Shame coiled in my gut, but the knowledge was intoxicating, a forbidden fruit I couldn't resist taking a bite of.

His address, his family details, even his favorite coffee shop – all there for me to consume. This was wrong, I knew it. But the thrill of knowing everything, of having him mapped out in my mind, was too powerful to ignore.

The weekend arrived, a heavy weight settling in my stomach. Armed with a disguise – a baseball cap pulled low and oversized sunglasses – I ventured out. The address led me to a small, unassuming apartment building. My pulse quickened, a frantic drum solo against my ribs.

He opened the door, blinking in surprise. "M-minju?" he stammered, disbelief coloring his voice.

I froze, caught red-handed. Shame and a twisted sense of elation warred within me. Here he was, the object of my unhealthy obsession, standing in his own doorway.

But instead of disgust, his face lit up with a mixture of awe and excitement. He ushered me inside, bombarding me with questions about ILLIT and our upcoming comeback. Flustered, I found myself answering, enjoying the way his eyes sparkled with every word.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the room. I knew I had to leave. With a hasty goodbye, I fled back to the dorm, the image of Y/n seared into my brain.

He wasn't just a fan anymore. He was mine, a secret obsession I couldn't shake. And I, Minju, the cold, aloof idol, was hopelessly addicted to the sunshine he brought into my life. An addiction I knew, with a chilling certainty, would consume me whole.

The following days were a blur of practice sessions and promotional appearances. Every spare moment was spent replaying our encounter, dissecting every smile, every word he spoke. My obsession grew, a monstrous vine snaking its way around my heart.

One night, unable to sleep, I did the unthinkable. I used the information Jisoo had gathered to find his social media accounts beyond the one he used for fan interactions. It felt like a betrayal, a violation of the fragile trust we'd built. Yet, I couldn't stop myself.

His private accounts were a window into his soul – pictures with friends, family gatherings, even a video of him clumsily attempting a dance routine.

I watched the grainy video on repeat, a twisted pleasure blooming in my gut. Here he was, the one I held on a pedestal, stumbling through the choreography I knew with every fiber of my being. A strange sense of power surged through me. He admired me, wanted to be like me, yet he was so far out of reach.

Sleep finally claimed me, the image of his clumsy dance moves morphing into a dream where he danced flawlessly beside me, his eyes locked on mine with adoration.

The following weeks felt like an eternity. Practice sessions blurred into late-night rehearsals, my focus waning, my body exhausted. My only solace was the stolen moments I spent on his social media, a guilty pleasure I couldn't shake.

One evening, amidst the chaos of a pre-comeback photoshoot, my phone buzzed. An anonymous message, a single line of text: "Lookinh forward to your performance tonight. Sunshine_Y/N."

My breath hitched. It was him, using a burner phone? A thrill shot through me, a mixture of fear and excitement. He was following me, watching me from the shadows. This secret connection, this shared knowledge, felt like a forbidden bond.

That night, as ILLIT took the stage bathed in blinding lights, I searched the crowd with renewed fervor. My eyes scanned every face, a desperate yearning clawing at my chest. But he was nowhere to be seen.

Disappointment prickled at me, a bitter aftertaste to the roaring applause that greeted our performance. Back in the dorm, exhaustion tugged at me, yet sleep refused to come. All I could think about was that message, a confirmation of his obsession that mirrored mine.

The days leading up to our comeback single's release were a whirlwind of interviews, radio appearances, and photoshoots. The pressure mounted, the weight of expectations a constant burden. Yet, amidst the chaos, Y/n's silent presence became a flickering flame, a lifeline in the storm.

Then, the single dropped. The response was overwhelming, a positive wave of online feedback and soaring music chart positions. But the only validation I craved was his.

One morning, as I scrolled through a sea of comments on ILLIT's official page, I saw it. A message from Sunshine_Y/N, bold and glowing amidst the praise. "'Obsession' is a masterpiece. You're incredible, Minju."

Tears welled up in my eyes, a mixture of relief and something more possessive. He had seen it, had heard our song, and his praise echoed in my head like a love song.

The following days turned into weeks, then months. ILLIT's popularity skyrocketed, and so did my obsession with Y/n. Jisoo, bless her calculating heart, saw the shift in me and subtly started feeding my addiction. Pictures from events we attended, details on our schedules, anything that might pique his interest.

It wasn't enough. I craved more, a connection that went beyond stolen glances and cryptic messages. One night, after a particularly grueling promotional tour, I found myself breaking down in front of Jisoo.

"I can't take it anymore, Jisoo," I confessed, my voice thick with desperation. "I need to see him, to talk to him properly."

Jisoo, calm and collected despite my outburst, offered a solution. "There's a fan meeting scheduled next month. We can arrange a… private meeting beforehand."

A spark ignited in my eyes. A chance to meet him face-to-face, away from the screaming fans? It was a risk, a potential scandal, but the desire to be near him eclipsed any fear.

The following weeks were filled with nervous anticipation and meticulous planning. Jisoo orchestrated a secret room within the venue where the fan meeting was held, ensuring our encounter would remain discreet.

The day arrived, a storm of controlled chaos. ILLIT performed, interacted with fans, signed autographs – a machine running on autopilot. But all I could think about was the secret meeting waiting for me at the end.

Finally, the last fan left, and I found myself ushered into the waiting room. My heart hammered against my ribs as the door creaked open, revealing a nervous-looking Y/n.

He froze, his eyes widening in surprise. Then, a smile erupted on his face. "Minju? Is this really… you?"

I nodded, unable to form words. Here he was, the object of my obsessive desires, standing just a few feet away. The air crackled with a strange energy, a mix of nervousness and something darker.

The following hour flew by in a blur. We talked about music, about ILLIT, about his dreams – mundane topics that somehow felt profound in this clandestine setting. As the time drew to a close, a sense of panic clawed at me. I couldn't let him leave.

Panic constricted my throat as Jisoo poked her head in, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Time's up, Minju. We have to get you back before anyone notices."

"No!" I blurted out, the word echoing in the sterile room. Both Y/n and Jisoo stared at me, surprise etched on their faces.

Shame burned in my cheeks, but a stronger urge, a possessive need, took hold. I couldn't let him disappear back into the faceless crowd, not after this. Not after the connection we'd forged, however twisted it might be.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped towards Y/n, my voice losing its usual icy composure. "Don't listen to her," I said, my gaze locking onto his. "We still got time."

Y/n shuffled back, his eyes darting between me and the closed door. A seed of fear bloomed in his usually sunny demeanor. "M-minju, what's going on?"

The mask of professionalism I usually wore slipped completely. "This," I declared, stepping closer, my voice barely above a whisper. "This is what's going on."

Before he could react, I reached out and locked the door, the satisfying click echoing in the silence. Y/n's breath hitched, his eyes widening in terror. A flicker of satisfaction sparked in me, a dark thrill at his fear.

"Minju, why are you doing this?" he stammered, his voice trembling.

"Because I can't lose you," I confessed, the words tumbling out in a torrent. "You may not know it, Sunshine_Y/N, but you're mine now. Your admiration, your support, it all belongs to me."

Tears welled up in his eyes, a stark contrast to the cold, chilling smile that crept onto my face. "But… but I don't understand. I'm just a fan."

"Just a fan?" I scoffed, the sound laced with cruel amusement. "Oh You're so much more than that, Y/n. You're my muse, my inspiration, the sunshine that cuts through the monotony of my life."

His fear morphed into a kind of pleading. "Minju, please. This is crazy. You don't even know me."

I leaned in close, my voice dropping to a seductive purr. "Oh, but I do, Y/n. I know everything. Your favorite color, your birthday, even your dream of dancing like me."

He stumbled back, his face draining of color. "W-wait.. H-how… how do you know that?"

A cruel laugh escaped my lips. "Let's just say I have my ways."

He looked around the room, a desperate hope flickering in his eyes. But the door remained locked, a symbol of the terrifying reality that had dawned on him.

"Don't worry, Y/n," I continued, my voice soft yet laced with a dangerous edge. "You'll get used to this. You'll learn to love me, just like I love you."

His voice, barely a whisper, shattered the twisted fantasy I'd built. "You… you don't love me, Minju. This is just an obsession."

A flicker of anger ignited within me, but I quickly schooled it. "Call it what you want, Y/n," I said, my voice back to its usual icy calm. "The point is, you're mine now. And there's nothing you, or anyone else, can do about it."

I watched, a predator savoring its prey, as the light extinguished from his eyes, replaced by a chilling realization. He was trapped, a prisoner in a gilded cage built by my twisted love, a love that had morphed into a terrifying obsession.

To Be Continued

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