#Significant Kneeling

[lawsofchaos1]

Shadowhunter Promptlet: Obeisance

In honor of the impending AO3 Shutdown Great Panic, please have a writing promptlet from one of my oldest journals. Fun fact: this is the predecessor to my angsty fic For Every Bird There Is a Stone. :)

~

When Alec is sixteen he discovers that his parents were in the Circle.

Not trusting any story they would tell him, Alec doesn't ask his mother or his father about their past, going instead to Alicante on official business and slipping the Hall of Records on his way back to New York.

Alec reads the file he illegally copied and is unsurprised to learn they were highly ranked- Maryse was one of Valentine's highest generals- and neither his mother nor his father stopped killing Downworlders without reason until it was made a condition of their parole.

Alec wishes he was surprised.

The file on his parent’s activity estimates the number of Downworlders they murdered and tortured, but no names are listed. The werewolves and the Seelie and the vampires and the warlocks are all left almost entirely anonymous, not even a cursory effort to identify them.

Alec reads every single word in both documents and discovers that there is one name contained in both, a single name that belongs to the only known survivor of his parent's wrath under Valentine's orders: a warlock that Maryse and Robert brutally tortured before his escape. Magnus Bane.

Alec is livid when he finds out that Magnus was never so much as apologized to, not even when he was later contracted by his parents to perform magical upkeep of the NYI wards after their parole.

When Shadowhunters have wronged another, the strongest expression of regret and repentance in nephilim culture is performing obeisance before the one who was wronged. It’s an expression of complete abjection and humility, acknowledging you (or one you are responsible for) have wronged the recipient and your punishment is in their hands.

In response to what he’s learned, Alec petitions the Clave for not only the Institute in full, but also the Headship of the Lightwood family.

Disgusted as they are by not only Maryse and Robert’s past actions, but also by their cowardice in refusing to take responsibility for their actions in the Circle and their present action in effectively leaving the Headship of the NYI to their son since he was fourteen, the Clave agrees. After the ceremonial transfer, Alec goes directly to Pandemonium. 

Magnus asks sarcastically if the new Head of the NYI is there to lay down the law or to make trouble. Alec doesn’t respond. Instead, he disarms himself, laying his weapons on the ground. All of them.

“Last week, I petitioned the Clave for Headship of not only the New York Institute, but also the Lightwood family. Both were granted, making me directly responsible for the future actions of all Shadowhunters under my command, but also for all actions of the Lightwood family, future and past.” 

Alec breathes deeply. “My parents, Robert and Maryse Lightwood, were in the Circle and believe wholly in the racist, genocidal doctrine preached by Valentine Morganstern. They committed unspeakable atrocities in his name to all factions of Downworlders, but when they spoke of their crimes to the Clave when requesting leniency, they only named the species of those they murdered and tortured without remorse. Except for you, High Warlock Bane. You, they named.”

Magnus was coldly imperious when he spoke. “Did you come to request absolution on their behalf, Shadowhunter? Because you certainly won’t receive it from me. Your parents slaughtered dozens for no other reason than their blood, and I will not forgive them.”

Alec nodded. “I didn’t expect you too. However, when I accepted the Lightwood Headship, the responsibility for their crimes became mine to bear. Although I know that this will be no consolation for you or for the friends and families of those hurt by my parents, you should know that I have ordered them confined to their home in Idris for the rest of their lives. They will never again bear weapons or act as members of the body of the Clave. They will never again harm another Downworlder. You have my oath on that.”

Magnus raised a brow. “A letter would have sufficed if that’s all you have to say.”

“No.” Alec paused. “Are- are you aware of the nephilim Rite of Obeisance?” 

Magnus paused for a fraction of a second, only noticeable to Alec given his closeness to the warlock. “I’ve heard of it, yes. It’s only been performed twice in the past century, if I remember correctly?”

Alec’s lips twitched sardonically. “It’s fallen out of favor since it requires admitting fault and accepting the consequence without possibility of appeal.”

Magnus’ own smile was cruelly amused. “Yes, I can see why you nephilim might not like that thought when the Clave hands out pardons to anyone with an old enough family name.”

Alec didn’t respond for a long moment. When he did, his voice was soft, but not hesitant. “Like they did to my parents.”

“Yes,” Magnus agreed, even though Alec hadn’t made it a question.

Alec closed his eyes for a brief moment in acknowledgement, then looked up to lock gazes with Magnus. “High Warlock Bane,” Alec’s voice was pitched to carry, his intonation suddenly formal. “As Head of the Lightwood Family, Maryse and Robert Lightwood now fall under my responsibility. They have both committed grievous harm to your person and have also committed grievous harm, including murder, to an unknown number of warlocks under your protection. Their crimes have not been punished by the Clave, nor can their crimes be fully addressed by anyone other than one harmed by them.”

And before the astonished eyes of all those present in Pandemonium, Alec sank to his knees, bowing forward until his forehead touched to floor in front of Magnus’ feet.

“As the one bearing responsibility for their actions, I give myself wholly to you in the fullest expression of remorse I can offer. In recompense for the harm done to you and yours, everything I have, up to my life, I give in offering to you.”

[dr-lemurr]

well hello. thanks for imitating my art, Jeffrey.

From studioonsaturn twitter 02.06.2024

Kim/Jeff on his knees again

[autumnrory]

it does still make me insane that people think tony's death was so sad but think nothing of natasha's but also like both deaths were soooooooo unnecessary and i'm like how do you think it was poignant or whatever how tony died when it was so fucking stupid because SO MANY OTHER PEOPLE could have been the one wielding the gauntlet and not gotten killed about it skjdfkjs i just hate it all sm

[nomairuins]

loveee when a character is crushed under the weight of someone elses expectations for them love when a character dedicates their entire life to something they never even wanted for themself love when the only reason a character keeps going is because theyre Supposed to and bc theyre supposed to make another person happy/proud. YES !!! CLAPPING !!! YES !!!!!!!!

[inkskinned]

the thing about some men is that they want you to remember, at all times, that you are underneath them. that with one word or look or "joke", you will stay beneath them. that even "exceptions" to the rule are not true exceptions - the commonly cited statistic that one in eight men believe they could win against serena williams.

women's gymnastics is often not seen as real gymnastics. whatever the fuck non-euclidian horrors rhythmic gymnasts are capable of, it's often tamped down as being not a sport. some of the most dominant athletes in the world are women. nobody watches women's soccer. despite years of dancing and being built like a fucking brick, men always assume they're faster and stronger than i am. you wouldn't like what happens when they are incorrect. once while drunk at a guy's house i won a held-plank challenge by a solid minute. the party was over after that - he became exceedingly violent.

what i mean is that you can be perfect, and they still think you're ... lacking, somehow. i hope you understand i'm trying to express a neutral statement when i say: taylor swift was the possibly the most patriarchy-palatable, straight-down-the-line woman we could churn out. she is white, conventionally attractive, usually pretty mild in personality. say what you will about her (and you should, she's a billionaire, she can handle it), but a few things seem to be true about her: 1. she can write a damn catchy song, and 2. the eras tour truly was a massive commercial success and was also genuinely an impressive feat of human athleticism and performance.

i don't know if she deserves the title of "woman of the year," i'm not debating that in this post. what i am saying is that she was named Woman of The Year, and then an untalented man got onstage at the golden globes and made fun of her for attending her boyfriend's football games. what i am saying is that this woman altered local economies - and her dating life is still being made into a "harmless" punchline. the camera panned, greedy, over to her downing a full glass of champagne. congratulations taylor! you are woman of the year! but you are a woman. even her.

fuck, man. write better material.

a guy gets onstage at a college graduation and despite the fact like half the crowd is made up of women, he spends a significant proportion of it warning these people - who spent possibly hundreds of thousands of dollars on their education - that they were lied to. that the "real" meaning of femininity is motherhood. that they shouldn't rest on the laurels of that education-they-paid-for but instead throw it away to kneel at a man's heel. imagine that. sweating in your godawful polyester gown (that you also had to pay for!), fresh out of 4 years of pushing yourself ever-harder: and some guy you've never met - who knows nothing about you - he reminds you this "win" is a pyrrhic one at best. you really shouldn't consider yourself that extraordinary. you're still a woman, even after years of study.

god forbid you are not a pretty woman, but if you are pretty, you must be dumb. god forbid you are not ablebodied or white or cis or straight or good at swallowing. you must be beneath a man, or else they are not a man. the equation for masculinity seems to just be: that which is not a woman or womanly (god forbid). anything "feminine" is thereby anathema. to engage in "feminine" things such as therapy, getting a hug from a friend, or crying - it is giving up ones manhood. therefore women need to be put in their place to ensure that masculinity is protected.

this is something i have struggled to explain to terfs - they are not doing the work of feminism, but rather the patriarchy. by asserting that women and men must be (on some secret level) oppositional and in conflict, they also assume that being a woman is akin to being another species. but bigotry does not stem from observational truths or clarity - that is what makes it bigotry. there was nothing in my childhood that made me fundamentally different from my brother. we are treated differently nonetheless. to assert there is some biological drive that enforces my gender role is to assert that women have a gendered role. men do not see women as equal to them not because of biological reality - but instead because the core tenant of the patriarchy is that women aren't full, realized people.

we are told from a very young age to excuse misbehavior as a single man's choice - not all men. it is not all men, just that one guy. all women are gold-digging bitches who belong in the kitchen - but if a man is mean, bigoted, or violent to you, it's just that particular guy, and that means nothing about men-as-a-whole. it is only one guy who got mad when you gently rejected him. it is only one guy who warns her this trophy is heavy, are you sure you can hold it? it is only one guy who smashes her face into the cake. it is only one guy talking into a mic about hating our bodily autonomy.

i have just found that they often wait until the moment we actually seem to be upstaging them. you sit in a meeting where you're presenting your own findings and he says get me a coffee? or you run to the end of the marathon and are about to finish first and he pushes your kids out in front of you. you win the chess game and they make some comment akin to well, you're ugly away. we can be the billionaire and get the dream life and finally fucking do it and yet! still! they have this strange, visceral urge to say well actually, if you think you're so great -

it's not one just one guy. it's one in eight.

[weidli]

[ID: gifset, two approximately square gifs each of two different scenes from Shadow and Bone; scene 1 is Inej rising to stand as she says "You know all the places to cut? I know them, too. " scene 2 is Kaz, face bloody, saying "I buried him. Six feet deep." /end ID]

#putting the ‘insane’ in ‘insanely hot’

[rockingbytheseaside]

✦ When someone tries to imitate you or take your place 

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Pantalone 

(tw: general mentions of violence and intimacy, swf. Old ask suggested by the lovely @pandaquick, better late than never)

Your position in the Fatui is a much more personal and delicate matter. You are not just some high-rank advisor or soldier idling within the Zapolyarny Palace, nor can you be defined as another Fatuus. You are someone of a different echelon - a Harbinger’s beloved, safeguarded with the utmost honor conferred by Her Majesty the Tsaritsa. It is no secret your significant other would utilize a whole army to protect you, but what happens when someone, in their foolishness, forgets that?

✧ Pierro was the first to notice that someone tried to imitate you. An individual of high status endeavored to emulate your work and areas of expertise. Subsequently, this individual began to adopt aspects of your appearance, from hairstyle to clothing. However, the breaking point occurred when this foolish person attempted to purchase an identical jewelry brooch to the one you frequently wore. It was a similar piece, one gifted to you by Pierro.

Except that imitator missed one important clue - Pierro orders you custom-made silver adorned with deep-cut sapphires that would put the Tsaritsa’s crown into shame. A one of a kind piece.

This cheap attempt to imitate you and usurp your spot was what forced The Jester to abandon his silent observation. His gaze has long caught the envious glances directed towards you whenever you accompanied him on meetings, whenever he linked his arm with yours, whenever he generously kneeled beside you to put his coat over your shoulder and keep you warm from Snezhnaya’s cold - the same individual, always seething with resentment. Thus, it was time for the Director to silently act. 

He kept tabs on this person via a network of spies, gathering intel on their behavior and intentions. And with the most skilled spies raised from the House of the Hearth, it didn't take long to have a whole pile of evidence right on his desk. And with the simple snap of his fingers, he effortlessly orchestrated the apprehension and subsequent banishment of the culprit, sparing no unnecessary words. Hearsay will not be tolerated in the Fatui, but to see some lowly scum tarnish your reputation by cheap mimicry then it’ll be his responsibility to weed out. 

“Pierro, dearest, What's wrong? You seem so deep in thought.” - Your gentle murmur broke The Jester's train of thought. As he lay in bed, your head resting on his chest and his arm draped over you, he reminded himself that he was in the comfort of your love. He doesn't have to mull over the bloodied ordinances when he feels the warmth of your skin underneath the covers.

“Apologize, my divine. It seems my mind was drifting to troubling thoughts. But it no longer matters when you're here.” - Thus, he gently planted a kiss on your forehead and tucked the covers around your body which harbored marks of his devotion earlier that night.

✧ Il Capitano clutched the hilt of his sword in resolution. Something was wrong and he could see it. The Harbinger was in the middle of his morning spar with you, a regular training session where you and the Captain warm up as a routine. He stood in a defensive stance, his movements fluid yet measured as his sword received blow after blow from your weapon. You, on the other hand, moved like a silent tempest, your strikes precise yet frustratingly urgent.

It was unlike you to be so unsteady, noted Capitano to himself, especially when fighting. Despite the unspoken patience, an undercurrent of concealed despondency and anger laced your body language. 

“Alright, my dear, I can feel your unease. What troubles your heart?” 

You shook your head, panting as you almost faltered. You insisted on continuing the training session, but it was clear your brave facade was almost crumbling. 

“It would be foolish to continue. And I care about your well-being. Please, confide in me, my beloved.”

You tried, you really did. But before you know it, your lips pursed into a thin line and a flood of tears escaped the moment you shakily lowered your weapon. Now the Captain was on full alert, rushing towards you and gently supporting you before you could hide your tearful face in shame. With an arm around your trembling form and much persuasion - you relented and shared the source of your frustration. A newly enlisted soldier had undergone thorough training under the tutelage of Il Capitano, and their impressive advancement was unmistakably evident in their unwavering dedication. However, this individual began to devote more time to the Captain, delving into military intelligence and climbing the ranks. You genuinely felt joy for the new recruit, truly. Yet in timid humiliation, you had to confess you felt obsolete as if your power alone wasn’t enough for a harbinger of his caliber and ranks.

“Ah, my dear, you are far from weak. My time with the trainees is merely a duty, a part of my job as the 1st Harbinger. But when it comes to you, my dear, your might and wisdom are incomparable. You don’t deserve my ranks, you deserve my life laid before you.”

But whatever gentle words of affection were coming out of the Captain, your next words of truth made him halt at once. “... At least, that’s what the recruit told me when we spoke. That I'm weak.” 

“...What did you say?” 

The gentle armored hand on your shoulder now tightened in restrained anger, fury flaring within his chest. Capitano now understood: your tears, your sudden insecurity, your doubt, your silence… It wasn’t coincidental. This recruit who was so conveniently rising in the ranks made sure to aim not just for the Harbinger. Specifically, you; to sow self-doubt onto you and hinder your precious relationship. Someone was deliberately bullying you.

You looked up at Capitano’s dreadful silence, asking him what was wrong.

“It… seems, my dear, someone has crossed an unforgivable line. One that would cost them their life dearly. And I am to blame for not noticing when harm and doubt came your way. I must amend this transgression for your forgiveness.”

You blinked in response, not having time to comprehend the severity of his words; It’s hard to respond when your beloved suddenly kneels and bows like a knight on duty. In the end, Capitano ushered you to take a day off and let your mind rest easy.

The next day, Capitano returned home early but was eerily silent once more. He stayed with you the whole day, like a hawk overlooking his nest, his arms crossed but his touch gentle. Although he claimed nothing was wrong, you received news that certain recruits were gone, and any upcoming soldiers that would come into his care would receive even stricter training from now on. That day, you wondered why some Fatui soldiers feared talking to you. Not to mention the armor around Capitano’s knuckles seemed faintly red-tinted.

The Fatui organization was a constant battle of powers and ranks. But to climb the ladder and meddle with the life of The Captain was a personal offense, one that would result in quick and unapologetic bloodshed. Nevertheless, he made sure to remind his soldiers about that. 

✧ When one of the folks working under Il Dottore as a lab analyst approached you, you didn’t expect them to call you names so suddenly. You stood there, confused and apprehensive at the sudden barrage of insults from the stranger. But they explained:

“You don’t do anything when helping during research, you know! I don’t even know how The 2nd tolerates you when you���re this useless. I’ll tell you what, quit your special-treatment act, and don’t come back to the lab. The Doctor is better off with someone of his level of intellect.”

You didn’t fight or defend yourself, you didn’t even insult the assistant. Instead, you smiled simply  - “Very well, I won’t. Good luck.”

That day, you turned and left. The frustrated lab analyst was left in confusion but thought they succeeded in eliminating the only obstacle left to get closer to the elusive yet powerful Harbinger. After all, what the hell do you even do at his lab? You exchange a few words with Dottore, maybe sporadically point at what to do, and remain seated in the back, resting as if you were the Tsaritsa herself. The audacity. How come Il Dottore never kicked you out?

Well, it didn't take long for this person to find out.

The next day, naturally, Dottore couldn’t find you when he proceeded with work. You were neither at his study, nor at the lab, nor at your favorite corner of the library. It was barely noon, and receiving your warm greetings was his routine. And the Doctor always follows the agenda.

“Where are they?” 

His question was brief but pointed, and his subordinates knew exactly who he was referring to. They could sense the tension in his voice. The only individual privy to the reason for your absence smirked smugly and responded.

“Hmph. It seems they decided not to come, Lord Harbinger Dottore.”

That was their first mistake because The Doctor caught on to the haughty smirk coming from his new analyst.

“And you know so certainly how?” - he quickly gestured to a nearby Fatui servant with a flick of his wrist. “Send in servants to check in on my behalf. I wasn’t informed. If my darling is feeling tired or unwell, bring their preferred refreshment immediately, and ensure it is warm.”

However, this displeased the new lab assistant, as even while you were away, Dottore was still dotting on you as if it was his second nature to do so while he was busy with work. Thus, they cleared their throat and spoke up:

“They… barely accomplished anything in your presence, doctor. So I advised them to leave, to which they agreed. Pretty straightforward, s-sir.” 

“Oh? Did you, now” - A burning rage, like never before, flared up within Il Dottore. With clenched teeth and a rigid jaw, his voice oozed with venom. But any seasoned lackey working under Dottore knew that this was the calm before the storm. Because soon, an echo of shattering vials and slammed objects would ring out from the laboratory. And in your absence, nothing would prevent the doctor from showing a bit of despotism. 

Much later that evening, after everything was set and done, the servants informed him of your whereabouts. Il Dottore briskly made his way through the Zapolyarny Palace to find you. Spotting you tucked away in a secluded nook of the palace, he hastened over, anxious to ensure your well-being, fearing you might’ve withdrawn due to the influence of some blabbering lowlife. 

“Dear! There you are… No one has the right to speak to you like that ever. Are you alright? My dearest, why did you not tell me immediately?! I would’ve-”

Dottore’s frustrated rambles come to a halt when you place a finger on his lips to shush him. You didn’t look despaired, in fact, you looked calm - “Zandik? Did you have another tantrum in your lab while I was absent?”

The doctor gulped, remembering his place. Calming his senses, he placed his hands on your waist and ushered you closer to his arms.

“... Perhaps. But I had to. How could I be certain that no one had harmed you? Why did you comply with that impudent fool? You should’ve gone to me first.”

“Well, it was unpleasant to hear the insults, sure. But…" - you glanced apologetically and a knowing smile returned to your lips. "I knew you'd find out and deal with the issue very quickly." 

✧ You and Pantalone were an odd couple. You didn't hail from a rich background, nor were you well-versed in the art of business and finance. You were more proficient in adventuring, your travels taking you to all sorts of journeys and commissions, a polar opposite from your beloved Pantalone. This led to raised eyebrows among the aristocrats of Snezhnaya. How can the richest man of Teyvat, who lives and works in prestige, be associated with such a simple person as you? For some, this gave the impression that they had a better chance of winning him over.

Thus, once upon a night, Pantalone was invited to a luxurious soirée. Here he was, clad in his finest suit, silver rings complementing his equally expensive optics. But to the Regrator, the jewelry adorning him was the least of his concerns - because you were the most precious gem in this gala. You accompanied him, although reluctantly, feeling out of place amidst the grand assembly of extravagant guests and the languid orchestra.

“Pantalone, do we have to…? I know you said this is not a business party, but there are so many guests already lining up to talk to you.” 

“Oh do not fret, my sweet. Evening galas like these are where the real negotiation and connections entail. But I know the details bore you, so I promise we won't stick here for too long. Besides, I get to introduce you as my one and only!”

That's exactly what you were afraid of. As a company of some esteemed noble ladies adorning elegant gowns, you had difficulties matching Pantalone’s polite smile. Overwhelmed by the scrutinizing gazes of some guests, you politely excused yourself to the bathroom. Pantalone was concerned, thinking of following you, but that was exactly what the guests wanted. 

You spent a long while by the hallway alone, trying to stabilize your breathing. The muttering of guests enjoying drinks and strolling was faint, but you could hear some people nearby:

“How can the 9th be with someone like them…? Surely it’s a joke.”

“A charming, rich man like him, and he can have anyone he desires. Yet he wastes his time on a simpleton?”

“Someone was definitely in it for the Mora, maybe he hasn’t seen real class. Quick, let’s go talk to him while he is alone.”

You stood with your back to a wall, and for the first time, uncertainty crept in. With fists clenched by your side, you reprimanded yourself that you are not alone. You came here with your significant other - and he, above all else, knows that gossip has no place in your shared private life. Hence, gathering up your courage, you raise your head high and strode back into the gala.

Pantalone, unfortunately yet expectedly, was surrounded by the same foul-mouthed nobles who wished to impress him. They prattled on about his financial success, while ladies fanned their folding fans and stood too close for his comfort. While they humored him, The Regrator cast hurried glances around the gala in search of you. Where are you?

“Lord Harbinger, may we offer you more champagne? I am sure this expensive bottle is up to your taste.”

The 9th attempted to hide his frown at the woman's tone, his stomach unwilling to ingest any drink some excessively elaborate name. “No thank you, I’d rather decline. I am waiting for my dear. I promised her a dance later this evening.”

“Oh, please sir, I insist. The night is young and there is plenty more for-” 

Before the woman could continue, your voice cut through the air; calm, yet unmistakably firm. “He said no. Simple enough to understand.”  

A hush fell over the gathered guests, the weight of your words settling like a sudden gust. Only Pantalone beamed with a genuine smile. “Ah, dear! There you are,”. The Harbinger was about to step back towards you, when the same lady suddenly blocked his path, her back facing him while her tone edged with defiance.

“I beg your pardon, but I’m afraid the question is directed towards Lord Harbinger Pantalone. I am sure you wouldn't know the pleasure of tasting a 500,000 Mora champagne from Fontaine.”

You recognized the snark in her tone directed towards you, and you couldn’t deny the anxiety twisting in your gut as eyes narrowed in your direction. However, with a shake of your head, you reminded yourself who you truly are and simply said: “Sheesh, lady, you spend that much on a drink that tastes worse than sparkling water? To each their own, I presume”

Her smile vanished. The guests stared in stunned silence, but it was Pantalone’s genuine laughter that pierced the tension. The sound was rich and real—because only he knew how adept you were at humbling an overconfident aristocrat with a dose of blunt truth. That’s how Pantalone managed to push through the crowd and circle his arm back around your waist, leaving the astonished onlookers behind.

“Ah dear, you’re a savior. I apologize I dragged us into this unpleasant company…” - he confined to you apologetically as you two walked away. “You always knew how to be sincere in your honest way.”

“It’s not like I meant to pick up a fight…" - you sighed. "I simply couldn't bear the humiliation, Pantalone. I'm aware that some people give me strange looks when I'm with you. They regard me as if I'm some peasant standing next to a powerful Fatui harbinger. That I'm nothing. That's why I couldn’t just hide, I had to step up to defend myself.”

“Oh, darling… My sweet, precious darling.” - The two of you left the manor that hosted the soiree, the chill night breeze muting the faint sound of guests and replacing it with a symphony of cricket noise from the garden nearby. Pantalone's fingers intertwined with yours.

"You are not just 'nothing' - you're my everything. You did not come from riches, and neither did I. You of all people know that. Would I really hold respect for some rich fool who didn't know an ounce of hardship when Mora was all they had since birth? No, dear, I wouldn't."

With a tender hand, he rested his palm on your waist, gently guiding you along the cobblestone path as if leading you into a slow waltz by garden roses in the night.

"Besides, you should never be ashamed to seek out my help. Although I must admit... Your tone earlier - oh my. Use it on me more often, darling. I wouldn't mind." 

[babygorewhore]

Am I making you feel sick?

Charlie Mayhew x fem reader one shot.

When Father Charlie Mayhew sees you, a magnetic young woman who isn’t the typical Catholic, his sinful nature only grows.

Thank you so much to @cxrrodedcoffin for helping me brain storm and to @xxbimbobunnyxx for helping me with the picture!

Warnings! Perv! Charlie. Panty stealing, male masturbation, self whipping, obsessive behavior, mild talks of violence, blasphemy, male receiving oral, choking, pussy slapping, degrading, spitting, female recieving oral, unprotected sex, face slapping, overstimulation, multiple orgasms!

The markings on Charlie’s back were a humbling reminder of his sin. He focused his efforts onto appearing normal. A regular service. A way to give the people encouragement, guidance and a spiritual feast. But keeping his composure while you played with the fringes of your skirt, the curves of your thighs exposed as you crossed your ankles. That proved to be a significant challenge.

You were a regular member of the church. Your attendance isolated. Your presence came after the death of your grandparents a few months prior.

He remembered first seeing you. As if a halo shined above your head as you confidently strode into the building. The click of your platform shoes echoed across the floor as you plopped onto a seat. Charlie nearly stumbled over his sermon when you met eyes that day. Your gaze was focused. Made up eyes with a mixture of curiosity and rebellion.

Above your heart, you wore a silver cross. The muscles in your neck flexing as you chew a piece of bubble gum. Beautiful wasn’t fitting enough to describe you. Charlie was enchanted by the way you tried to follow along in your Bible but you seemed to be a step behind.

His cock started to throb when you would separate your legs, exposing the black lace material that covered your pussy. After the third time he saw you, Charlie approached you with a confident stride. He hoped it was enough to cover the urge to wince at his wounds. It’s what he deserved after his fist jerked himself off the previous nights.

He readied himself to speak but you looked him up and down with a slight smirk.

“Yeah?” You ran the tip of your tongue along the edges of your teeth and Charlie cleared his throat.

“God looks favorably on those who are devout to him. And I know he looks down on you with deep appreciation.” He was used to his charm working immediately. Charlie prepared for flirtation in return, a giggle or even batting eyelashes but instead you snorted with a flick of your hair.

“Duh. That’s why I come here. I know God loves me otherwise I wouldn’t be alive.” He opened his mouth to question what you meant but you spun on your heels and walked away.

Charlie was self admittedly obsessed with you. He found every excuse imaginable to walk by your area. He found you online. His fingers shook and his forearm was sore from busting a load when he looked at your photos.

But his deep desire for you only grew when he ran into you at the diner. You drank a milkshake and nibbled on the remainder of your fries. When you saw him, you waved him over. Charlie plastered on a smile and spoke your name with a feign politeness.

“Can you be a good little priest and watch my purse?” You asked him and he swallowed. He nodded as you walked to the near restroom.

Charlie understood fully it was juvenile to search your purse but when his fingers fell on the material of lace, an overwhelming feeling of excitement came. He pocketed the pair of panties and gained his strength when you returned.

His life before turning to the cloth consisted of perverse acts and they lingered within him like a poison. You were possessing his every thought just like corrupted angels that turned away from God. Charlie was tired of his own rough hand. One that inflicted regular discipline. One that desperately wanted to touch you.

He walked around the church during nightfall. Kneeling before the candles and begging for any assistance. For strength to resist. But it was too much. So much so, that Father Charlie began stealing more and more things. A lipgloss tube. Chains. A secondary fragrance. Anything that could bring him closer to you.

Charlie concluded and pried himself out of the intoxication of the image of being between your legs.

“Take solace in the congregation!” He cried out, holding his hands up. “Lean onto God for your salvation against this treachery!” Charlie quieted.

The service concluded and the rainfall began. Numbers dwindled except you. His breathing trembled as he strode to you. “Ah, is your mind filled with worry?” He tucked his hands behind his back. You popped your hip and stared at the wood intricacies.

“I can’t go home. There was a leak in my apartment ceiling. I’m about to phone a friend so I can stay with him while it’s being fixed.” You adjusted your ring and Charlie clenched his fists.

The mention of another male made him feel nearly nauseous. Charlie clicked his jaw and raised his eyebrows. “You can have sanctuary here. We have rooms-“

“God, why do you talk like that?” You turned to face him and he was taken aback by your aggressive tone. “You’re my age. And you act like you’re Jesus!”

You gripped his collar suddenly and Charlie let out a gasp. Your breath smelled like strawberries. The shine to your lips with a hint of glitter. “Get over yourself, Father. Just because you wear this ridiculous outfit, doesn’t mean you’re anything less than a little boy.”

Every word you spoke was laced with a condescending bite. You let him go but Charlie didn’t step back. His eyes kept falling to the wicked mouth giving him a slew of insults that were a muffle in his ears.

“Anyway. I keep trying to call him but there’s barely any service in here.” You roll your eyes and Charlie musters his confidence back.

“You can stay here tonight. Give him a call in the morning. I can promise you safety here.” His voice was barely above a whisper. You seemed to contemplate it for a moment. Your stare narrowed before a minimal softness came.

“Well. I guess I can spare one night.”

Charlie led you in silence to his room. Every footstep was heavy. The weight of his internal battle tormenting him. He stood in silence as your fingers traced the walls, lingering on the hung cross and twirled the quilt on his bed.

You sat down, resting your palms on your knees and met his look.

“How long have you been catholic?” The question was genuine and his intrigue increased as you chuckled. You examined your nails with a lilting response.

“Not long. Grew up around the church but left when I was eighteen. Swore it off until these super hot guys in a band attacked me,” His jaw dropped and rage ignited his chest. “But I happened to have my Cross. Guess you could call it Divine intervention. I stabbed the man with it in the eye. Maced the other one. Third dude ran away.”

You completed the sentence with a giggle. “I promised God that if he got me out, I’d join the church. And I keep my word.” You pressed your hands together in prayer.

Charlie lost control of his body and he moved towards you. He set his large hands on your shoulders, squeezing your muscles and he bent down. “How could anyone want to hurt you?”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” He pressed a finger against your lips and you pulled it into your mouth. Charlie grunted and removed it.

You sank down on the floor, unbuckling his pants with a practiced ease. Peering at him, you smiled and hooked your finger in his trousers.

His size and girth made your mouth water. You allowed your lips to part, drool pooling down your tongue that stuck out. You removed his boxers, Charlie’s dick twitching as you slapped the tip against your tongue. You licked his length, dragging motions that made his vision go white.

When you took him in your mouth, moving your neck to deepthroat, he moaned and his hand set on your head. Charlie pumped your skull, thrusting but you pulled off. Messily sucking his balls and he started convulsing.

No. No, no, no. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. He pulled the strings. He held the reins and control was his.

A part of him unlocked, one that he tried to put away. Charlie growled and yanked you off his shaft. Laughter escaped you, as you still believed you called the shots.

“Oh my god! You were about to cream down my throat and I only did it for a minute or two.” He stood there as you dug the pair of stolen panties from his pocket.

“Did you really think I was that stupid? You think I don’t know a fucking pervert when I see them?” You flicked them at his face and Charlie’s cheeks heated. “You’re disgusting.”

He reached and gripped your jaw. Charlie backed you up until you were slammed on the bed, his knee between your thighs as his cock pulsed. He wrapped that same hand around your throat, squeezing until you were staring at him with wide eyes.

“I am going to ruin you and that sweet little pussy you flash at me. You think this is a goddamn joke?” His voice was rasped with lust and a sickness he caught the moment he saw you.

Charlie let go of your throat and watched you cough. He tore away your panties, shredding off the skirt and stared at your dripping cunt. He let his head fall to the side, dark brown eyes focused on your flustered expression.

You went to gain some sort of momentum to support yourself but Charlie gave your pussy a sharp slap.

You made a shrieking noise at the impact and he scoffed. “Oh don’t act so fuckin stupid. Is that little corrupted brain of yours not getting it?” Weeks of build up poured out of him and he smacked your center three more times. Each strike harder than the last.

Your mouth pressed in a line, a poor attempt to conceal the pleasure. Charlie allowed a sinister smile to curl. “You’re almost as fucked up as I am, doll.” Your eyes widened as he slowly let his mouth graze your lower half.

He let his full lips brush against your bare skin as he breathed in. Charlie smelled the scent of your pulsing cunt and the wild need ignited in him. The priest gripped your hips as his knees pressed into the floor. He smashed his mouth against your pussy.

It was better than candy. The most saccharine sensation as he parted his lips and found your clit. Charlie’s dick was so hard that his hand picked up the discarded panties. He wrapped them around his cock, moaning at the relief as his tongue tasted you.

Charlie worked you over, his other hand keeping your hips in place.

His nose hit the right spots and he wasn’t shy about being messy. You were panting, holding his head and grinding as much as you could. Your moans were better than his favorite song. Charlie had plenty of experience burying his face between a woman’s legs. It was something that he did not only for their pleasure but his own.

Feeling your body contract, moving into his corrupted touch made Charlie’s eyes roll back as more slick soaked his mouth. You cried out, a series of, “Oh god, fuck! F-fuck.” You sounded on the brink of tears.

Charlie pushed two fingers inside you, making your whimpers become pathetic. He pumped them as he lifted himself, hovering over you with a wet chin. “Open that whore mouth,” he commanded and you did.

Charlie let the spit fall, coating your tongue and lips. “Swallow it. You know all about that, huh?” He enjoyed the sight of you beneath him. Charlie kissed you. Deeply and hungrily. He sucked your lower lip lewdly, letting a thick groan escape him. You returned it in kind, pressing your chest against his, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it off his arms.

Your fingers felt the scars on his back but Charlie didn’t care. Every single self inflicted mark was worth it if it meant he could be with you.

“Fuck me, please. Please fuck me,” You begged and Charlie’s dick fucking hurt but he loved the pain. He ran the tip of his cock against your clit, smearing the cum and continuous wetness.

He sank into your entrance, stretching you and you both let out a harmonious sigh. Charlie’s half opened eyes observed you arch your back but that familiar fire burned in your eyes. You tightened your legs that were around his waist. He knew you were trying to flip over. Not now. Charlie aggressively thrusted into you, bringing his hand down to spank the side of your ass.

“Oh no, you don’t get to ride me yet. You’re gonna lay there like the helpless sinner you are.” He growled and heaved your thighs over his shoulders. Getting an even deeper angle as your ass was off the mattress.

Drool escaped your hung open mouth and he let his palm feel your lower stomach. “Yeah? You feel that? Feel me in your pathetic pussy? You,” Thrust,” “Are,” thrust, “Mine.”

“Yours,” You sobbed and he smacked your face.

“You can do better. You can do fucking better than that.” Charlie smeared the spit on your mouth, cheek and slapped it again. “Tell me you’re a good girl.”

“I’m a good girl. I’m your good girl.” You pleaded with growing pleasure.

“See? You obey me. Deep down,” He felt the bulge again. “You’re a desperate little girl needing to be fucked. By someone as sick as me.”

You let out a wail, moans of pleasure coming out in staccato breaths. Charlie busted his load into your pussy, his lips hovering over yours as you both humped each other.

He rolled over, sinking you on his cock. Your tits were in his face, he sucked your nipple as you bounced. Charlie felt your fingers scratch his chest, marking his skin in the shape of a Cross with your nail.

He pried off your tit, his hands holding your waist. “Pussy squeezin me so tight. Like you can’t get enough. Greed is a sin,” Charlie sucked your pulse point and brought you to a second climax.

You fucked yourself on his dick. Mewling as he coated your insides with cum. “You’re my dirty little sinner. Give me every last drop. Let me have it,” He whispered the last part of the sentence.

He didn’t forget your tale of woe. Charlie put away your confession in his mind. You were put in a position of self defense. But if you hadn’t been so brave, you wouldn’t have walked into the congregation.

You slowed down, lazily riding his dick with a dazed expression.

“Get on your knees. You’re gonna lick my cock clean and finish the game you started.”

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Tagging @xxbimbobunnyxx @cxrrodedcoffin @fear-is-truth @starkeysprincess @cameronsprincess @chavezprincess @titsout4nicholas @userchai @taintandviolent @webbluvrsugar @oceanblvd111

[giannaln4]

GIANNA'S KINKTOBER '24 SEASON

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Kinktober day sixteen.

Breeding Kink (3.2k words)

summary: Since the moment he met you, Lando knew he wanted you to be the mother of his children, and that feeling only intensified when he saw taking care of your nephew.

warnings: NSFW, +18, smut, MDNI, established relationship, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talking, breeding kink.

To anyone else, and as people would expect, seeing your significant other with a child should warm your heart; it should give you a soft spot for the person you’ve vowed to spend the rest of your life with. 

Lando did feel like that when he saw you interact with any kid, like when you were walking in the paddock and a kid came up to him and you always made conversation so they wouldn’t feel so shy, or when a driver brought their kid to the race and you immediately leaned down to talk to them, sometimes even holding their tiny hands as they swore they had the coolest thing to show you.

That was the first few times, at least. But he will never forget how everything inside him shifted when you first met his niece. She instantly fell in love with you, and she needed to drag you everywhere. Who could blame her, really; that’s just the effect you have on people.

But god, the effect you had on him? That was another level, because the way he felt that weekend when you picked up a motherly role when you were with her made him feel something he had never felt before, something he never imagined, and quite honestly, he couldn’t explain it. That was until you were saying goodbye and the little girl nearly cried when her mother took her from your arms, and his hands instinctively landed on your tummy when he walked you back to the car.

The thought of you carrying his child and taking care of them the same way you did with his niece — now that is a fire he could never put out, not until it became a reality. He wanted- no, he needed to make you a mother; he desperately needed to put a baby in you in a way that was almost primal.

You and Lando have been together for years, and it was common knowledge that he wanted kids. Sure, you have talked about having a family one day after getting married, one day, but sometimes he just wishes you could skip all of that and make a baby once and for all. 

For months, he kept those thoughts to himself, not wanting to ruin what you had just because he couldn’t contain his desire buried for a little longer; that was until you babysat your 5-year-old nephew, Charlie.

He came back home sometime in the afternoon, eyes tired and body aching for the intensity of the past weeks. He wanted nothing more than to be with his girlfriend and forget about the world, but as soon as he stepped into your apartment, he heard the TV and loud chuckles coming from the living room.

His brows frowned in confusion as he dropped his bags next to the door and followed the noise, his heart nearly stopping when he spotted you playing with the little kid.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” He said with a huge smile.

“Oh hi, you’re home,” you sprinted towards him, hugging him tightly when he caught you in his arms. “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too, sweetheart,” he kissed your temple. “And how is this little guy doing?" Lando walked towards Charlie, kneeling next to him to be at the same level. 

“Good, we are playing with the puppies,” he exclaimed, his tiny finger pointed at the TV. 

“Yeah? Are they fun?” He just nodded and ran closer to the glowing screen, completely forgetting about Lando’s existence and jumping again as his tired eyes followed the dogs.

“Don’t worry, my sister will pick him up in a couple of hours.”

“It’s fine. He seems happy.”

“And very tired. I think it's time for a nap, what do you say?” You walked towards him, trying to pick him up, but he refused.

“No! I wanna play racing again.” 

“We can play some other time, I promise.” 

He looked up at you, the corners of his mouth turning down as his eyes quickly filled with tears. He shook his head and ran back to Lando, who was still on his knees, as he caged himself in his arms.

“I wanna play racing,” he repeated, this time to your boyfriend, sniffling and wiping his tears.

“Yeah? We can play for a little while.”

“Lando-” The way he just betrayed you, you would never forgive him.

“He’ll want to go to sleep soon, don’t worry.” You saw them walk to Lando’s streaming room, Charlie skipping as he held his hand.

You rolled your eyes and followed them, crossing your arms as you rested against the door frame. Lando tried to pick him up, intending to sit him in the sim, but he nearly lost his mind, as if Lando had no idea how playing racing worked.

“No! Auntie.” Lando freaked out and out and put him back down, looking at you as he begged for your help with a single look.

“I’m right here, sweetie.”

You stepped closer to them, sitting on the chair as you picked him up and put him on your lap. He was happy again, his little feet kicking in the air as he gripped the steering wheel.

“We’ll do one more, okay?”

“Yes!” He happily exclaimed.

Lando watched the both of you in awe as you started the game, showing Charlie all the cool cars he could choose from.

“I want the blue car again!” He said, pointing at the Red Bull. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Lando joked. You giggled at this, but chose the Red Bull for the race.

It was a free practice session, so you weren’t actually racing other cars, but you still got to drive it super fast, which is exactly what he liked. 

As the session started, you placed your hands just below his. You were doing all the work, but the illusion was still there. 

It was a little harder to drive like this, but you still managed to put up a few good laps without messing up too much, but even when you did, he was enjoying it, giggling and pointing at the screens as he turned to Lando to ask him an excited “did you see that?” Any time something happened, and every time, Lando would just nod and match his enthusiasm.

The session ended, and just like you did earlier today, you congratulated your nephew for his amazing driving. He took the compliments proudly as if he just won a championship, but his head soon fell on your chest, yawning as he snuggled closer.

“Okay, time for a nap.”

He didn’t resist this time. Instead, he nodded as his eyes closed. Lando helped you get up as you held Charlie close to you, walking towards the guest room; that was the room he preferred, saying your room was too scary and probably haunted.

You carefully laid him down, taking his shoes off and covering his body with a blanket. How was he already in a deep sleep? You had no idea, but you envy him.

While he was asleep, you took the time to clean up the mess he made earlier, picking up all the toys he brought and putting Lando’s helmets back where they belonged. You loved your nephew, you really did, but man, it was really challenging to take care of a child. Not only were they messy and unpredictable, but they had so much energy you could barely keep up. You often wondered how your sister did it. 

Once you finished up, you dramatically collapsed on the couch. “I need to sleep for like a week,” you joked, your boyfriend laughing at your antics.

He made his way to the couch, sitting next to you as he pulled you in a warm embrace, hands caressing your sides as he placed a sweet kiss on the top of your head. “Me too, and I was only here for like half an hour.”

“Imagine! I’ve been with him since this morning. I’m never babysitting again.”

“No? But you love Charlie.” He looked at you expectantly, trying to decipher if you were being serious.

“I do, but it’s too much sometimes. I honestly don’t know what we’ll do when we have our kids.”

Our kids. Two simple words that opened up a can that you would never be able to close. He stayed silent, mentally cursing the tent forming in his pants for betraying him in such an innocent moment.

You didn’t think anything of it, nor did you realise what those two words did to him, so you just reached for the remote control and browsed the channels. You ended up picking a cooking show, paying attention as if you would ever cook anything like that.

The entire time, Lando was paying attention to you — all of you. He admired your face, your hands, your hips… your tummy. He couldn’t stop himself from placing both his hands on your stomach, imagining what you would look like carrying a child. His child. He was well aware he was getting ahead of himself, but after witnessing today’s events? God, he needed to do something about it.

Another hour went by, and you were already catching up to your boyfriend’s intentions. To you, everything seemed normal at first, but the lower his hands got and the way his thumb was rubbing soft circles on your stomach, it clicked. You knew how Lando felt about having a family with you, but it never crossed your mind that seeing you with kids affected him so much. Though it all made more sense now, any time you were near a kid, even if you didn’t interact with them at all, his hands would be all over you, and when he got you alone? That’s another story, but you never connected the dots until now. 

Suddenly, a phone call made both of you jump. It was your sister calling you to let you know she was in the building, ready to pick Charlie up. You gathered all his things as Lando greeted your sister, walking her in and guiding her to the guest room.

“Aw, he looks so peaceful.”

“Well, you should’ve seen him two hours ago,” you joked.

“I know,” she laughed with you. “Thank you for taking care of him on such short notice, you saved my life today.”

“It’s okay, I love spending time with Charlie, and I’m happy to do it any other time.” 

“Thanks, Y/N. He honestly loves you, you have no idea how happy he got when I told him we were coming here.” Your sister was about to carry Charlie in his arms, but Lando offered to bring him down to the car. 

Okay, now you got it. You had to admit that seeing Lando carry a little kid did things to you, and since your realisation a few minutes ago, you couldn’t stop thinking about a family; how did you suddenly get your own case of baby fever? Sure, you were still young, and that probably wouldn’t happen for at least a few years, but fantasising couldn’t hurt anyone. 

You walked back to the apartment holding Lando’s hand, his grip so tight you thought he could break your hand if he squeezed a little harder. As soon as the door closed behind you, he grabbed you by the hips and turned you around, his lips crashing into yours in an intense kiss.

Kissing him back, your arms wrapped around his neck as one hand played with his hair.

“You looked so pretty today, taking such good care of the baby,” he mumbled against your lips, biting it sofly. You couldn’t contain the moan that left your mouth, only encouraging him further. 

He carried you to your bedroom, immediately throwing you in the bed and hovering over you. He pressed himself further into you, making you very aware of his hardening cock as he nudged his bulge into your lower stomach. You moaned again, your legs going around his torso to pull him down.

“I wanna put a baby in you. God, you would look so perfect.” He didn’t know what to do with you. He wanted to kiss you, bite you; he wanted to touch you everywhere, his own mind making him feel overwhelmed. 

After quickly taking off your shirt, he started kissing you everywhere, a trail of wet kisses making their way down your body. His touch was electric, making you nearly squirm beneath him as your fingers kept a tight grip on his hair, and his words only made the feeling intensify. 

“Lando,” you moaned, he hummed in response, “do it,” you simply said. God, the way everything inside him shifted is something he wanted to remember for the rest of his life. He looked up at you, eyes filled with a hunger and desperation you had never seen before. 

“Yeah? You want me to put a baby here?” He asked you, his big hand falling on your lower stomach as he kissed it. 

“Mhm, yes.” Your heartbeat was as strong as ever, and you were already having a hard time focusing. You needed him to do something and you needed it now. 

“Fuck,” he breathed as his hips involuntarily thrusted into the mattress. His lips kept exploring the lower part of your body as his hands worked on getting rid of your joggers, hands falling on your thighs immediately after to move them to rest on his shoulders. 

“Please, I need you so bad,” you begged, and he assumed you were asking him to pay attention to your poor pussy, which you were, but his mouth is not what you needed right now, so you stopped him after one firm lick. “Inside me.”

“As you wish, my love.” 

He got off the bed to quickly discard his clothes as you did the same with your bra, falling back on the bed as you eagerly waited for him. You felt like his gaze was piercing you as he lowered his body, pressing himself against you.

You moaned in anticipation, your arms wrapped around his neck as you felt your pussy starting to drip with desire. He moved his fingers along your sides and all the way down to your hole, collecting your wetness and spreading everywhere, finally getting to your clit as he rubbed soft circles for a moment.

He moved his mouth to your chest, taking one of your nipples into your mouth as he whimpered, and his mind instantly went to how sensitive and full they would be once you were pregnant, and he couldn’t wait any longer. “You look so fucking sexy tonight, sweetheart... I wanna fuck you so bad.” He was practically drooling as his fingers left your pussy and grabbed his cock, pumping it a couple of times before guiding it to your entrance.

You couldn’t help your gaze dropping to his member, already swollen at the tip and bubbling with precum. It seemed impossible, but you were sure you had never needed him this bad.

He pushed into you, making both of you moan loudly as his eyes met yours for a moment before pressing a kiss on your lips, whispering a little “I love you.”

He didn’t give you that long to adjust. His hands went under your ass, moving you up and down his cock. As if your sex life wasn’t already rough, the intention he had in mind just made him go crazier, because the way he was thrusting into you was bound to leave you sore for days. 

The room was filled with whimpers and slick noises the whole time, moans of each other’s names joining from time to time. “Gonna fill you up so good,” he breathed, his hands squeezing your ass, “fuck, can’t wait to see your tummy grow.” All you could do was moan, the words leaving his mouth putting you under a spell that you could never escape. “Do you want that, love?”

“Uh- huh,” you managed to spit out, fingers drigging into his strong biceps.

“Wanna hear you say it.”

“Fuck- ah. I want you to put a baby in me.” You replied, eyes focusing on what your words did to him.

His hips began to speed up, thrashing your head against the pillows as he repeatedly hit that sweet spot deep inside you. He was so deep you could practically feel him in the pit of your stomach.

“Harder,” you whimpered, and he immediately started to drill into you, the air nearly getting knocked out of your lungs as his grip tightened. 

“You feel so good around me, so so good for me,” he pants, looking down to where you were connected. “Fuck.”

“Ah- Lando.” It felt so good. So good that you are too far out of reality to form any thoughts; you could only think about him and how good he looked above you, with his mouth hung open in pure pleasure as he panted.

One of his hands made its way to your tummy, pressing down where he could feel himself. It was so simple yet so effective; he could feel his cock moving deep inside you. He gragged it further, his fingers catching your clit.

“Fuck,” you let out a broken moan, “just like that.”

He smirked at this; it was like you were begging him to get you pregnant as you began to tighten around him. He knew you were close; he could not only feel it but see it, the way your eyes were squeezed shut as your legs started to quiver.

“You wanna cum? You wanna cum while I fill you up?”

“Fuck,” you screamed as your head frantically nodded. 

“Cum with me, I’m gonna put a baby in there.”

With that, your orgasm began to take over, squeezing around him tighter, triggering his own release. He slowed his movements down and both his hands took a hold of your waist, keeping you in place so you wouldn’t waste a single drop.

Both your moans were even louder as he did his best to continue pushing into you through his orgasm, wanting to pump as much of his seed into you as he possibly could. When he physically couldn’t keep going, he stopped, keeping his cock deep inside you as he tried to catch his breath. 

He looked down at you, a smile adorning his face as he looked down at the mess he made. Slowly, he pulled out, his fingers quickly replacing his cock as he pushed his cum back into you, making you squirm and whimper at how sensitive you were. 

“Gonna have to squeeze for me, love, you gotta keep it inside.” The sight almost made him want to fuck you again; he couldn’t believe how pretty you looked filled up to the brim with his cum.

His eyes locked with yours, fingers going inside his mouth as he licked them clean. He had lost his mind; you were sure of that, but fuck, you couldn’t deny how hot that was.

With a satisfied smirk, he fell next to you, pulling you into his arms as he kissed you once more. “I love you so much,” he whispered.

“I love you too.”

↺ back to navigation — send me a request!

[celestiamour]

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ tying bows onto logan’s hair tufts┊0.4k words

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: tooth-rotting fluff, size/height difference, wade’s pov

➤ author's note: i have a logan smut in the works right now, but i don’t feel like writing the nasty bits so fluff in the meantime!!

as wade wandered into the kitchen to grab a snack, he came across the strangest sight in the living room that made him tilt his head and question everything he knew. sitting on the worn-away leather sofa were you and logan next to each other with the television playing some romance movie you probably picked out, which is completely normal, but you were kneeling on the couch cushions leaning on his shoulder fiddling with his hair tufts and attaching what looked like bows on them. not just any bows though, the big frilly pink ones with charms glued onto the fabric and tight rubberbands that tug on your scalp for children.

it’s always comical to watch you two beside each other since he has such a hulking figure that towers over you, but watching you tie something so dainty and girlish to someone who is the complete opposite was hysterical. although he seemed disgruntled and like he would have preferred to be anywhere than here, there was a certain softness in his brown eyes that was making an exception for you when you giggled, told him how cute he looked, and the significance that the bows had in your youth of playing dress-up.

god, he’s so smitten with you, when was he finally going to ask you out? logan howlett who had such an unapproachable aura, a sharp tongue that swore like a sailor, and adamantium claws embedded in his hands was sitting pretty for you to play with his scruffy brown locks like one of those massive barbie doll heads. the perfect example of “tough guy with a soft spot for a specific girl” unfolding right before him, he would be a fool not to mischievously snap a photo for blackmail purposes!

the shutter sound went off as he forgot to turn it on silent, but wade was safe either way since if peanut ran at him, you would fall over without him to support you while you leaned on his frame. all he could do was grunt a “shut the fuck up” before both of you laughed at him. you never asked for the accessories back, so he ends up keeping them among his possessions and also steals one of the many copies printed of that photo to keep in his wallet to gaze at fondly.

he’s never beating the “madly in love” allegations.

[tender-rosiey]

Hiii! Ik your not taking req rn but I just wanna send this in for when you open them again.

Can I request a fic where the reader is aging (like the reader getting frail, their hair turning gray, getting tired more, body pain, ECT) and hein era sukuna begins to notice and worry about how death may be near for reader

Love your work btw you're like literally one of the best writers on here.💛

unspoken — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: hope this is what you had in mind! and thank you so much!! 💕💕💕 hope I never disappoint

sukuna stands by the window, a heavy silence settling around him as he observed the woman who had been his light, now dwindling in its glow.

it started subtly, almost imperceptibly.

one evening, as the two of you sat in the garden, the sun sinking low in the sky, you had reached for a blossom, your fingers trembling ever so slightly as you plucked it from its stem.

he had watched, a brow furrowing slightly, as you struggled to hold it, the delicate flower slipping through your fingers. he attributed it to a momentary lapse, perhaps just fatigue.

after all, you had always been full of life, a whirlwind of energy, dragging him along on your adventures with that irrepressible spirit.

but the signs multiplied.

the laughter that used to echo through the estate began to fade into soft chuckles and gentle sighs. your once-lively movements turned slower, more deliberate.

he had noted how you needed to lean against the wall for support when standing, how you paused frequently to catch your breath, and how, one day, he found you gazing out the window, lost in thought, your expression more wistful than joyful.

the vibrant sparkle in your eyes dimmed, and he felt a strange sensation twist in his chest—a feeling he couldn’t quite name, yet knew was significant.

the afternoon sun pours through the large windows, illuminating the room as you sit in your favorite chair, a once-majestic piece upholstered in soft velvet, now frayed and softened with age.

your hair is streaked with strands of silver, each one a testament to the years that fly by like petals on a breeze.

you look down at your hands, frail and delicate, the skin thin and almost transparent, betraying the strength you once possessed.

sukuna can hardly bear to look. the sound of your labored breaths echoes in the stillness, a painful reminder of how time is relentless in its march.

he kneels beside you, taking your hand in his. the once-familiar grip that sparked defiance in playful challenges now feels so fragile beneath his fingers.

“do you remember that time you insisted on teaching me how to make that ridiculous dessert?” he asks, his voice low and steady, the words heavy in the air. “you nearly burnt the kitchen down, laughing all the while.”

you smile, your eyes brightening for a fleeting moment, but the warmth fades quickly, the effort draining from you as you lean back, exhaustion washing over your features.

“of course. you were so terrible at it,” you reply softly, your voice a mere whisper.

sukuna feels an overwhelming surge of despair(?) welling within him.

but time was relentless, and the reality of your frailty loomed larger with each passing moment. days turned into weeks, and the garden began to wilt, mirroring the decay he saw in you.

the flowers you once tended to with such care now lay scattered and forgotten, just as he felt you were slipping away from him. each heartbeat echoed in his ears, a stark reminder of the life that flickered like a dying candle.

one that he can’t do anything to preserve, not even the strongest jujutsu could keep you here.

on a fateful evening, as the sun dips below the horizon, casting shadows that stretch long and mournful across the room, he holds you close.

you rest your head against his shoulder, a quiet comfort he has taken for granted in the past.

but now, he feels the fragility of your form, the way your body seems to melt into his, as if you are slipping through his fingers like grains of sand.

he presses his ear to your chest, straining to hear the steady rhythm of your heart. it is a sound he has always searched for—a reassurance of your existence.

but tonight, as he listens intently, he feels something shift. the thud of your heartbeat grows faint, as if the very essence of you is fading before his eyes.

“y/n?” he calls out, his voice barely a breath. but there is nothing. you are gone, and the empty space beside him keeps expanding.

sukuna remains still, cradling your form, holding onto you as if the sheer force of his will could bring you back. he can feel the warmth of your skin slipping away, the reality of your absence settling around him like a shroud.

he stays there, holding you until the moon rises high in the sky. the world around him fades into the background, and all that sukuna can decide is that if love was worthful, then you would’ve still been by his side.

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[lawsofchaos1]

Malec Promptlet: Circle!Alec AU

[Inspired by a comment from @crimsonpharaoh on my latest fic about the Circles very failed attempt to recruit Alec... What if they didn't fail?]

Alec is the eldest son and the acknowledged heir of two prominent, highly-ranked Circle members that are openly known to have recanted Valentine’s ideology in name only. When Robert and Maryse begin leaving the Institute in Alec’s care when he’s fourteen it becomes clear that Alec isn’t relying on his bloodline alone and is going to be an immensely powerful member of the Clave in his own right. 

The Circle would be utterly foolish not to recruit the Shadowhunter who is absolutely certain to become the next Head of the New York Institute. Especially when it becomes evident that the Shadowhunters of the New York Institute would happily lay down their lives for their beloved young leader. Whichever way Alec turns in this war, so too will New York. 

Kept wholly apart from the Downworld and with no formative mentors other than his parents, the Circle tries to recruit Alec … and Alec says yes. Everything he’s been taught says that Valentine is right - that the Downworld is a threat, and - well, Valentine’s not stupid. It’s clear that Alec is too ethical for torture and the worst of his planned experiments - but the Head of New York openly sympathetic to his cause? Aiding it, even subtly? Valentine is careful in his recruitment and how he presents the Circle’s aims. It works.

In canon, Alec is held back as he works because his pro-Downworld values are so far against the standards of the Clave, but if he doesn’t have that friction working against him? Alec rises fast and far in the ranks, quickly becoming the Vested Head of New York with his parent’s vocal support and he dominates the Clave’s political circles in Alicante. His Institute is loyal to Alec, utterly, and follows his lead. With the careful way Valentine (and Maryse) present the results of his actions to Alec, he has no cause to doubt the righteousness of his support for the Circle's planned rise.

Until he meets Magnus.

Magnus and Alec meet by sheer happenstance, literally running into each other on the streets of Brooklyn on one of the passingly rare afternoons Alec takes off both his patrol and administrative duties. Alec takes one look at the most beautiful man he’s ever seen in his life and is so tongue-tied he nearly fumbles accepting the resultant invitation for coffee.

For months, Alec grows deeper and deeper in love with the gorgeous and kind mundane, glowing in a way that’s noticeable even to his typically highly unobservant siblings. Alec has slowly begun to dreaming about them making a life together. Alec's is certain Magnus' soul would be deemed worthy of Ascension, but, even if Magnus isn't interested in becoming nephilim, Alec loves Magnus with everything he is and can't picture his life without Magnus by his side.

And then Alec’s world falls apart.

Magnus, just as glowing and just as in love, sits Alec down and quietly, nervously, tells him about the Shadow World. Tells Alec he’s a warlock.

If Magnus is a Downworlder, then nothing Alec has believed for his entire life can be true.

Alec is numb and disbelieving, but Magnus must take it as shock alone for he continues in his explanation, rubbing Alec’s back soothingly as he describes the terror and genocidal aims of the Circle.

Alec somehow manages to rasp out to Magnus that he needs time to think and he flees.

With a starting point Alec had somehow never considered over the last seven years, the threads start to pull apart and everything Valentine hid from him unravels in a series of horrible revelations that leave Alec throwing up bile in his sink. 

What has he done?

The next morning, Alec rises from the cold bathroom floor, limbs aching and head throbbing from lack of sleep. Silently, he goes into his office and gathers every document he has on the Circle’s activities. Everything he’s done for them, every horrible political aim he’s aided, every safehouse he’s helped conceal. He writes down names, he writes down dates and addresses, he sketches out images of the Circle members he’s seen and has no other information for. It takes him nearly until the sun’s last rays are fading before he’s done. 

And then he disarms himself. His bow and quiver. His blades and daggers. His stele. Even the slim hold-out weapon in his boot. Nothing remains.

Alec takes up his parcel of documentation and walks to Brooklyn, every step an inch closer to his grave. Every step an inch closer to his love - to Magnus, the High Warlock of New York.

When Magnus opens the door in leggings and only the barest make-up, Alec’s heart breaks. To Magnus, his mundane boyfriend had reacted very poorly to learning of the Shadow World yesterday. Badly enough that he likely is worried what Alec is here to say.

And Alec would give nearly anything to wrap his partner in a warm, familiar embrace and soothe his worries away, but Alec doesn’t deserve the comfort that would bring him too. He doesn’t deserve to even look at Magnus anymore.

Magnus brings him into the living room, gesturing him to the couch, but Alec stops short in the bare space in front of the coffee table. He looks to Magnus, memorizes for one final time what it is to have the man he loves look at him without hate and disgust in his eyes, and sinks to his knees on the ground.

Magnus turns around, startled, mouth open to protest, but Alec can’t listen to that - can’t hear what Magnus says before he knows of Alec’s sins. 

He places the parcel of information on the floor in front of him, focuses his gaze on his knees and confesses.

Everything.

[dcxdpdabbles]

I love your writing so much it’s really inspiring and fun to read so I really want to see your take on this post https://www.tumblr.com/hello-eden/753339474169282560/phantom-is-ras?source=share and this post I love your writing so much it’s really inspiring and fun to read so I really want to see your take on this post https://www.tumblr.com/new-revenant/753407674944831488/i-had-a-crack-idea-of-since-danny-likes-to-do-time?source=share I think it’s going to be really funny to read

I like the second more, so I'll do that one.

The Justice League attempts to summon the Ghost King to establish a diplomatic truce. If things go well, then they will have a good ally in case they ever get into a fight they can't possibly hope to beat.

Things were looking good. They had gathered all the needed materials that had been scattered across the globe, had found the correct summoning ritual, and had Justice Leauge Dark go through with the summons.

Now, usually the, Justice Leauge had plenty of people who could handle diplomatic missions- Diana and Arthur were royalty raised to missions of these natures- but they weren't sure what to expect from the King of Ghost.

According to John Constantine, the king would expect a gift of some kind, but it had to have a significant emotional attachment. Ghosts, or citizens of the Infinite Realms, were beings of emotions, and gifting one something with deep sentimental value would be far more impressive than any amount of gold.

It also had to be the "first" of something to not offend the King.

Diplomatic missions were usually reserved for the more level-head members, but this particular one needed someone with lots of emotions who would be able to keep things from escalating. It was a rather challenging order.

It was ultimately decided that everyone of the original founding members would be present and would each offer a gift. Whoever impressed the Ghost King the most would become their go between.

The day of the summon arrived, and each member held their sacrifice—no matter what John claimed, it felt like a sacrifice—as the portal grew and expanded in an eerie green glow.

Clark had the first tool box set his father gave him.

Diana had her first set of daggers before her sword training.

Bruce had the first drawings of each of his kids made for him.

Barry had the keys of his first car, that he worked on with his dad.

J'onn had the perfect smooth rock he found on Earth when he first arrived.

Arthur had the first seashell bestowed to him by his nanny.

Oliver brought in a picture of him and his first-ever friend (Bruce pretend not to be touched)

Finally, Hal brought along the number pin for his first fighter plane.

John and Zatanna didn't bring anything as neither wanted to be made into contracts bridges with the King. They would do the summons then blend into the background as the King selected the gift.

When the summons connected, the portal flared out a burst of power and sucked it back in just in time for the sound wave to boom in the room. A few of the heroes had flinched at the burst while others stumbled but everyone was quick to straighten as the King flouted through.

In a simultaneous kneel, everyone offers up their items to the flouting figure. They each stand inside a circle that indicates they are making an offering. No one dares to speak, waiting for the King to review the items, eyes downcast.

The King flouts by each circle, slowly looping through the room. A few members's can catch glimps of his flouting feet as he comes near them, stops before them, turning to face each member before moving on.

The room feels heavy, the silence suffocating until the King speaks. "Oh, thank all the Ancients that it's not the crazy stalker."

Who, they wonder, but no one dares more or speaks as the King floats around the lineup again. He chuckles at Diana's, Hal's, and J'onn's offerings. He coos at Bruce's, Barry's, Arthur's, and Clark's, but the one he ends up choosing is Oliver's.

Choose is a....close enough word anyway.

"Wait, I know him!" the Ghost King exclaims, ripping the photo out of Oliver's hand and sealing the contract. The heroes slowly rise to their feet, Bruce hiding his kid's drawings in cape as fast as he can just in case the King changes his mind.

He really doesn't want to give them up.

"That's the Stalker's grandkid!" The King growls flipping the image around to the startled archer. "How are you connected to the Stalker?"

"I'm not sure who this stalker is, your Highness." Oliver hesitates, watching the king's glowing green eyes turn just slightly darker. "If you explain I wouldn't be opposded to helping you-"

"-get rid of him!?" The King gasp, slapping a hand on his forhead. "Why didn't I think of that? Okay, Oliver Queen, I shall complete a contract with you as long as you get rid of my stalker. He's been following me for years, sending me creepy love letters and just basiclly not dying like a good little human. "

He waves his hand, and an image appears above the heads of the heroes. Bruce's eye twitches when a long-time headache appears, making rather odd smothers to the air- likely taken from the King's memory. "This guy started following me around four hundred and twenty years ago. He even bothers humans who happen to look me- examlple A-"

Bruce's eye twitch grows to face spam as Tim's smiling face appears next to the first image. The King doesn't notice, staring Oliver down with an intense sort of craze look in his eyes. "-and frankly I'm getting tired of it. Do we have a deal?"

Oliver considers the flouting image of Ra's Al Ghul, mildly disturbed by the smolder before he reaches to take the King's hand. The moment their hand interlock green flames burst around their linked fingers, and the King's human-like features melt away to sharp teeth, black eyes, and pointy face structer that does not look human at all.

"A soul for a goal. The seal is made. The Bridge was built. Live with the power of the King, but die with the soul of a man, Oliver Queen." The King chanted in various overlapping voices, coming from every direction at once before poofing out of existence. Oliver rips his hand back towards himself, feeling cold to his bones. The green flames float up into the air, transforming into a box.

It lands with an innocent thump in the stun room, as the King's normal voice rings out. "Thanks for the help! I'm excited to be free of the Stalker! You'll find important information about how to get the Stalker to die in the box and other proof of his creepiness. You have a year."

No one moves for ten minutes before John lights up a cigarette, his voice rough with fear and annoyance. "This is why I don't deal with someone of that power level. You'd better make sure you come through with your side of the bargain. Once heard that Lord Clockwork asked a cult to stop sending him wives, and they sent him husbands instead of listening to the fact that he didn't like virgin sacrifices. He removed the village where the cult originated from the timeline and threw them in the Infinite Realms, trapping them forever in the Middle Ages. Even cursed their princess to turn into a dragon for throwing fits when she was the one to recommend sacrificing other girls."

The Justice League glance at each other before Bruce sighs, "I can call my kids. They always wanted to kill Ra's. Especially Tim."

Oliver stares at his hand, watching the fire slowly disappear. "I don't feel safe...."

[mapis-putellas]

𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x reader

Words: 2344

Warnings: mentions of throwing up. general sickness. I think that’s it.

Summary: Alexia comes down with a bug.

You startle awake at the sound of Alexia's feet hitting the floor with a loud thud, your drowsiness seeping into alarm as you watch her retreating body disappear into the bathroom. You're quick to follow her, stomach sinking when you see her kneeling in front of the toilet emptying the contents of her stomach. Her hands were clutching the porcelain bowl so tightly her fingers were white, body visibly trembling, a sight that has your heart breaking as you kneel behind her and reach forward to loosely grasp the hair that had fallen in her face.

For a second, she goes rigid at your touch, obviously startled by your sudden presence in the room with her. She has no time to even try and relax into your touch like she usually does before round number two begins. Your nose scrunches up and both the sound and smell as you wrap your free arm around her stomach, feeling her muscles clench and unclench as lets out a quiet groan of discomfort. It takes about ten minutes before she stills, and you gently coax her back into you with the arm still arm still around her waist.

But Alexia shakes her head, and you let out a soft sigh at her stubbornness as you place a hand against the back of her thigh to lift her leg and physically manoeuvre her foot to lay flat against the floor. You do the same with the other, easily supporting her weight for the short second you have to do so as you gently lower both her and yourself back onto the floor. You end up sat on your calves with Alexia on your lap, her body falling back against you despite her prior protest.

"Just relax." You murmur, the sound of your voice breaking the now quiet silence of the room.

Alexia's eyes flutter closed as her head drops heavily against your shoulder, and you crane your head slightly to get a better look at her face. She was incredibly pale, though her cheeks were flushed red suggesting a pretty heavy fever. Her skin was shiny with a light sheen of sweat, and her brows were furrowed as though she was in pain. She turns her head slightly, nose nudging your jawline and despite your concern, you find yourself leaning forward to press a soft kiss to her warm forehead.

"Let's get your teeth brushed, okay? And then it's back to bed." You murmur as you pull away, Alexia letting out a soft sigh as she nods and allows you to coax her upright. You stand first, flushing the toilet before placing your hands beneath her armpits to all but haul her to her feet.

Alexia wobbles unsteadily as you guide her to the sink, forcing you to stand behind her with your feet shoulder width apart to create a steadier barrier for her to lean against. Your arms were secure around her waist, though not tight enough to once again upset her stomach, and Alexia leans against you, hands shaking as she grabs her toothbrush and proceeds to brush her teeth. You hum lightly as she does this, your cheek flush against her shoulder blades, and whilst Alexia tries to smile, it comes of as more of a grimace.

Soon, she was done, and she allows you to guide her body around so she was facing you. You contemplate lifting her onto the small amount of counter space for a short second, but decide against it when you realise it would make your already significant height difference worse. Instead, you keep one of your arms around her whilst the other one grabs a cloth and runs it beneath the cold water. After squeezing the excess out, you flatten the material against your palm before beginning to gently wipe it over Alexia's flushed face.

"Amor," she whispers as her eyes flicker closed.

"Mhh?" You respond, wiping carefully beneath her eyes.

She sighs lightly, and you could feel the light exhale against your face. "I can do this myself."

"I know," you murmur, leaning in to kiss her damp cheek as you rinse off the cloth. "But let me look after you, okay?"

Alexia's eyes flicker open, and she looks at you for a second before nodding her head. "Okay." Her voice was barely audible, but due to your close proximity, you hear her just fine.

"Okay," You repeat as you dry your hands off on the towel behind you before placing them on each of her sides. "Trust me for a second?"

Alexia hums. "Always." She rasps, and you give her a soft squeeze in response before bending down slightly to wrap your arms beneath her behind. The blonde stares down at you with confusion as her hands rest on either side of your face, but you simply shake your head.

"Arms around my shoulders, baby." You gently instruct, and whilst Alexia would normally fight you due to the fact she likes to know that what you're doing before you even think about doing it, she has no energy right now to do anything but fall against you with a soft sigh.

You take her weight with ease, adjusting your arms around her just slightly before straightening your knees and back effectively lifting a very surprised Alexia into your arms. You bounce her up with surprising ease, her legs hooking tightly around your hips as you carry her back through to the bedroom.

Whilst Alexia was pretty sure she could have walked there herself with just a little of your support, she appreciates your determination, placing an appreciative kiss to the side of your head as you ease her back down onto the bed. You can't help but smile at her cute little way of saying thank you as you tuck the blankets back around her, watching her eyes immediately fall shut the second the head hits the pillow. It allows you to leave the room, returning no more than a minute later with some Tylenol and water.

"Open, baby. Medicine." You perch on the end of the bed before gently wiping your thumb over her bottom lip. Alexia's mouth parts, and you place the two pills on her tongue. "Small sips." You reach forward to gently cup the back of her head, coaxing it up and off the pillow for a second so you could hold the top of the bottle to her lips. Alexia takes a few small sips, swallowing with a small grimace as she falls back against the pillow.

After recapping the bottle and placing it onto your nightstand, you crawl into bed next to her, Alexia stirring at the dip in the mattress and instinctively shuffling towards you. You can't help but smile softly as she settles against you with her head tucked within the crook of your neck, a leg thrown over your hips as her hand clutches tightly to the material of your shirt.

You place a tender kiss to her forehead as you wrap your arms around her and begin tracing gentle circles across the length of her back, a soft breath of content escaping your lips as you trace gentle circles against the bare skin of her thigh.

Alexia is out cold within a matter of minutes, soft snores escaping her lips as she breaths through her obviously stuffed nose. You sigh softly, craning your head to press another kiss to her forehead as your hand slips beneath her shirt to rest against the warm skin of her back.

"Sweet dreams, baby."

*

You end up dozing off for a few more hours yourself, only woken by something wet hitting the skin of your neck. Nose crinkling, you crane your head slightly and see that Alexia was in the exact same position as earlier, though now, her mouth was open, a small pool of drool slowly dripping from her lips as she struggles to breath through her nose. Realising now that that must have been the wetness that had woken you, you let out a quiet sigh and use the corner of the blankets still covering you to wipe it away.

"Thanks, Ale." You grumble, more irritated than disgusted considering you'd shared a lot more than saliva between you both before. Alexia grunts as she stirs, pressing her scolding hot forehead against your neck. You wince a little at the temperature as you pull her body closer to you with her arm still around her back, the blonde letting out a quiet, yet raspy cough as she pushes against your chest in a futile effort at trying to sit up.

Knowing it was almost time for more medicine, you allow her to do so, Alexia ending up on your lap with her legs pressed against each of her hips. She blinks blearily as she looks around the room, and you can't help but smile slightly as you reach up to brush away the baby hairs that had fallen in her face before lightly cupping her cheek with your palm. Alexia instinctively leans into your touch as her eyes yet again threaten to close, and you chuckle softly as you trail the pad of your thumb over the soft, too warm skin.

"How are you feeling?" You ask, giving the small of her back a gentle pat.

Alexia shrugs. Sure she'd passed the point of hiding things from you, but that didn't mean she was ready to outright admit her weaknesses either. Seemingly able to read her mind, you grasp the medicine from the night stand along with the bottle of water before popping two pills out of the package. Alexia's lips part without issue, and you smile proudly as you place the medicine on her tongue before once again helping her down them with water.

Alexia swallows, her throat aching with some discomfort. You hum lightly as you set down the bottle before securing your arms back around her waist, hands sneaking up her shirt and trailing gently over the top warm skin of her back. Alexia can't help but fall limp against you, her head heavy against your shoulder as your hands slide all the way up to her shoulder blades and down to the waist band of her pyjama shorts, repeating the action several times until they simply rest against her butt without no further intention.

"You're a little hot still. And you sound stuffy. Do you have any other symptoms?" You question, Alexia humming noncommittally as her eyes flutter closed.

Your hand gives her behind a gentle pat. "I need an answer baby." You coax, and Alexia sniffles softly with a small shrug as her hands clutch the back of your shirt.

"Stomach. And head." Is all she says, but you successfully manage to make sense of the fact she had both a headache and stomach ache. You nod in understanding as you scoot yourself towards the edge of your bed, feet meeting the floor with a quiet thud.

"No, what are you doing?" Alexia whines, sounding less than amused.

You stand with her in your arms for just a second before turning and laying her bed down in the spot you'd just vacated. "Making you something to eat."

You explain, cupping her cheek and pressing your lips against the warm, flushed skin. Alexia pouts, and you can't help but gently kiss it away despite that fact it probably wasn't the wisest idea to kiss someone who was sick. But oh well. You'd probably caught it already due to the amount of time you'd spent pressed against her already. Alexia's hands tightly clutch your shirt as you pull away from her, and you place your own atop of them before squeezing softly.

"I'll be back, baby. I promise." You whisper comfortingly, and whilst Alexia huffs quietly, she begrudgingly nods her head, watching with a pout as you make your way out of the room. You were back before she could really begin to miss you, a small bowl of what looked to be fruit in hands, and she finds her lips instinctively parting as you sit on the edge of the bed and pick up a small piece of strawberry.

"Good girl." You find yourself praising, Alexia's already flush cheeks darkening as she chews with a soft sigh. She wasn't really too hungry, but she figures it would be best to get something of sustenance inside of her if there was any chance of  getting better before training on Monday.

She manages only half a bowl before her stomach begins to protest, and you nod in understanding, knowing it would be wise not to push as you set down the bowl and climb back into bed next to her.

Before you could settle, Alexia reaches out and tugs lightly on your shirt. There was a pleading expression on her face, lips forming a small pout as you stare down at her with an amused look on your features. 

"Off, por favor." She whispers, and you nod, reaching up to pull your shirt off of your body. Your bare skin was immediately littered with goosebumps as you slip back beneath the covers, helping Alexia with her own shirt before grasping her by the underarms and tugging her up and onto your chest.

Alexia allows you to manoeuvre her body, settling in a position similar to the one you'd been in after waking up a little while ago. The feeling of your skin against hers soothes her in a way she never thought possible, your slender fingers trailing tenderly against the back of her neck as her tired eyes flutter closed. Her hand rises to innocently cover your breast, fingertips trailing gently over the swell of skin and you can't help but smile slightly at her touch, feeling the press of her own chest against your ribs, rising and falling with ease breath she takes.

Soon, her breathing steadies, and her hand stills, telling you that she'd once again slipped into a light sleep. You tug the blankets up a little further, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead.

**

Tags:

@girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @marysfics @ceesimz @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan @goldenempyrean

[loaksbitch]

this time it’s different, imagine neteyam knelt in front of you and begging you not to go after he betrayed you? c’mon now guys i can’t be the one who’ll only suffer with this idea that struck me 😕 — wc is 2.6k !!

warnings - vulgar language, neteyam cries you guys NETEYAM CRIES!! my poor baby. oc gets/feels betrayed, one slap mention, where neteyam who is the mighty future leader of the clan kneels in front of you and begs for forgiveness, he fucked up :(

like and reblogs are appreciated! i love you guys so so much and this is 1.2+ followers celebrating gift <3

“i trusted you.” — neteyam sully (★)

part (two) — (three) — (four) of this series.

the na’vi females are gathered to spend time together and talk teas while their significant others and soon to be mate left for a war party. you on the other hand being one of them, or so you thought as you all laugh and bring the old moments or funny moments you all had

“…and that’s how i met tar’key” one of the female navi blushes as she tells her story of how she met her mate years ago.

“that’s so heartwarming, oh mother eywa!” the other females giggle and awe. you’re silently sat as you try to ignore some of the noisy na’vi’s whispering until they mention the soon to be olo'eyktan and your ears perk up

“have you heard about the first born of the sully family being set up for a mate?”

you’re somehow confused and excited when they mention about mating because you knew it was going to be you. neteyam was going to be mated with you.

“yes! and i’ve heard she’s so pretty as to very similar to her mother’s beauty.” the other whisper

her mother? you never had a mother growing up…

“she’s so lucky, honestly imagine being the future mate of the future olo’eyktan? so dreamy.” the girls sigh imagining it and let a soft giggle out. you’ve frowned as you try to thinking deeply and try to make sense in what just the na’vi girls said

the female clan keeps murmuring and talking as they make friends with huge circle and a wooden fire in the middle of the circle, while you’re trying to put pieces together.

what do they mean “beauty of her mother.” when you didn’t even have one? neteyam and you were soon to be mated, yes you knew that and he told you he only wants you in his future but what the girls talked about was another completely different person

you wanted to run to neteyam and ask what you’ve just heard but he wasn’t near by, he has already left to the war party right after he made love to you as a good bye the whole night, you were crying mess being of how you loved this man as he cradled you to his body and held you tight.

you’re confused and somehow trying everything but decide to eavesdrop to what the two females are talking. “i haven’t seen her here, did she not want to join us?” the one asks before the other scoffs,

“of course she won’t, after all she’s the future leader of the omatikaya clan.” the other states, now you’re feeling way too desperate to know about her but it’s breaking your heart to figure out it’s not you

and this means? neteyam lied to you.

“never mind, let’s just get back to what we were list– oh mother eywa! she’s here! she’s here!”

your heart starts to beat faster as your eyes look around to know which one is the so called future leader of the clan. “which one? i see two girls standing!?” the females arch their neck to see more and the other pointing out makes you know who exactly they’re talking about

your heart doesn’t just entirely break one piece following the other, everything around you was blurry. you needed to leave right now.

“excuse me,” you stood up as you made your way out. the na’vi’s asked if you’re okay but you just shrugged them and told them you’re feeling sick.

once you stumbled your way out and walked far enough from the na’vi’s, you finally find yourself on the trees of sounds. where your lover and you exactly made love. of course you two were gonna be mated and doing the deed didn’t bother you at that time but right now?

right now you’re feeling the burning of your skin where neteyam exactly placed kisses and his skin touched you. your whole body felt dirty right the moment you figured out you’ve been… played.

now everything started to make sense, why neteyam always feared of you both getting caught, why he didn’t want you to meet with his family, why he never… a soft sob leaves your lips as your eyes close.

of course that na’vi was better than competed to you.

beauty? her. body? her. has a family? her. everything? her. your jaw clenched as you feel so foolish for blindly trusting a man… a fucking man.

the pain you’re feeling doesn’t compare to when you felt right after your mother abandoned you. this was making you struggle with breathing, your lung tightening with every try you’re making to let air in.

what did you do wrong to deserve all of this?

you’ve really been fooled, you knew everything was too good to be true. you’re now realizing how stupid you were to think the future olo'eyktan mating with some abandoned and adopted daughter who only served as a professional arrow shooter.

“eyaw, it hurts.” you cry, tears freely rolling down your skin. you cry to your mother nature your heart out as everything of this place reminds you of him.

you want to hate him but no, it only keeps hurting to even think about hating him. neteyam was everything to you while you’re nothing to him, you were ready to throw everything from him but he only used you and backstabbed you

meanwhile you’re crying your heart out to eywa, the clan has returned from the war party with few people hurt and non dead. neteyam was happy and eager to tell you the war went so perfect like it was planned. no death and few people hurt but his eyes keep wandering trying to find you

a tint of disappointment settles in him when he realized you weren’t there, but you promised you would watch him from far so the na’vi won’t be suspicious about you two. at least until he makes it official, and today is the day he will make it official to his parents you’re the one he wants

oh how he was so late for this.

neteyam figures out you weren’t anywhere here so he just shrugs his parents and tells them he needs air for a while. obvious that they’re proud of him today, jake didn’t bother and already shrugged his son off

neteyam tries to hide his excitement when people greet him as he made his way to your hammock.

eyeing the na’vi’s and once he checked no one is watching, he slipped in but was greeted with no warmth or scent of your body. “princess?” he calls for you but nothing talks to him back

frowning, neteyam leaves you hammock and climb down to think where you could possibly be. it doesn’t take him long to figure out where you are and jogs to the destination he thinks you’re found.

and just like he thought your body comes to his sight as you’re stood in front of the tree of sounds, your back facing him.

neteyam chuckles as he walks to you before wrapping his arm on your body and pressing himself to your warmth.

you in other hand feel your body tense with his skin touching yours. “i’ve missed you” he groans to your hair as he place kissed on the back of your head then to your neck. you don’t even try to say it back or turn around to hug him.

neteyam does fail to notice your odd behavior and step back a little giving you space to turn around to him but you’re just frozen. “princess?” he calls for you but you just try your best to compose yourself from falling apart

the man in front of you feels his inside worry before he’s forcing you to turn around and face him.

but what he was met with was what he never expected. you eyes are swollen and puffy like you’ve been crying for hours, “who did this to you?” was the first full sentence neteyam utters and you ironically scoff at his words

it was him, he was the one who did this to you.

he tries to cup your cheeks to his large palm but you step back as if his touch disgusts you. and in fact, it does disgust you right now. you know you’ll run back to him if he touches you and you’re not allowing that

“baby?” his breath hitches when you avoid his touch and his brain instantly start to figure out you’ve already found out but neteyam chooses to ignore it until you say it yourself

he tries again by stepping close to you but you were fast to speak. “is it true neteyam.” it wasn’t a question and the way you called his name darkly makes his heart hurt and tell him you’ve definitely had found out.

but he chooses to play dump.

“what is true, princess?” those pet names makes your stomach irrupt in nausea and you shake your head. “don’t call me that, i’m not your princess, never have been your princess.” the way you say it calmly scares him

sure thing neteyam fell for your calmness and mature self but right now he wishes you could just punch him or yell at him.

you’re trying to stay calm before slowly opening your mouth to speak. “you have a…” you can’t even finish the sentence feeling your throat close in pain. he again tries to play dumb but this time you hiss at him silently.

talk about happiness? it can vanish in a heartbeat.

the atmosphere as changed to a heavy one as neteyam watches your broken self in front of him.

“yes.” those three letters were enough to entirely ruin you. you stumble on your own feet feeling dizzy, neteyam tries to hold you from falling only for you to slap his hands away.

“look at first it was just a rumor but then my parents and her parents set us up, set me up.” neteyam starts to try explaining but it only hurts you more. neteyam watches your tears fall and his heart bleeds out, he really wanted to tell you

“i never loved her, i never want to be with her, i never want äeya.” neteyam steps closer, “i want you and you only” you’ve heard the name before, so many times actually that you grew up wanting to be äeya so bad.

the daughter of the tshaik that’s the perfect daughter from the clan and it didn’t surprise she had to be mated with him. what hurt you was him lying and leading you to his great fucked up game.

“i fall in love with you princess, i love you so much it always hurts.” you’re painfully silent and it eats him alive as he desperately seeks for something in you. “i trusted you..” you back away, his touch bringing nothing but pain

if someone from yesterday came to you and told you that this would happen, you would’ve shot your arrow at them but again look at you desperate for things your lover was saying were to be lie.

“with you— princess please.” neteyam doesn’t know why he’s pleading but he knows he wants to wipe those tears and take your pain away. “don’t touch me.” you warn when his fingertips held your small hands

“DON’T TOUCH ME!!”

neteyam froze at his spot, his tail locked between his legs. this was the first time you yelled at him, the first him he heard your true pain through your voice. “i hate you! i hate you! i. hate. you.” neteyam’s ears flatten at your words that were like daggers to his heart.

“don’t say that, please don’t say that baby, please.” he was begging you now. neteyam always chose death than being despised by you.

“you knew the whole time, neteyam” you’re saying it so clam and softly it’s making him feel like he deserves death and every painful torture to be done to him. “i told you i have no one and you were the only person i trusted with my everything and you were the only one i have.” you’re now crying

“how could you do this to me?”

how could he do this to you?

neteyam licks his lips and sniffles, he nods agreeing with you. “i was gonna make it official, today i was going to tell them you’re mine and i’m yours” your eyes widen but you quickly shake them off, you shake your head disagreeing with him

“i’m not yours.” the way you said it was not with in an anger but pure honesty, hatred and disgust. neteyam’s breath hitches again and his eyes start to whelm. “i was never yours.”

you were his, you promised yourself to him last night as he did, you were his first time and first person in everything. you were his future and his own actions took his future away from him.

neteyam could only watch your broken self in yourself and did nothing, the little abandoned girl you’ve hidden coming out and telling him everything last night before making love completely gone. he was met with your side he never thought he would see

“i’ll never be yours.” you knew your words hurt him and you definitely wanted them to just like he’s hurting you

neteyam suddenly kneels in front of you and pulls you by your hips, wrapping his arm on your waist and pressing his face to your stomach to hide himself from reality. “i never wanted you to find out this way, please let me make it right. let me make everything right, please princess.”

he doesn’t care you warned him not to call you that, no matter how hard you try not to be? you’ll always be his princess. you’re just frozen there with the man you trusted giving your soul to just take everything from you wrapped around you.

“let go of me.” you tell him and silently pray he does or you’ll kneel and hug him back.

neteyam’s body shake as he is now violently crying himself in front of you and you’ve never seen him like this. “neteyam, please let me go.” you try but no answer, only whimpers and sobs from the man knelt and face pressed to your tummy are heard

you purse your lips and place your hands on his hands to pry them from you. “please don’t do this” neteyam was the one begging. “we both are promised to one another last nig–“ you cut him off.

“there was nothing last night, last night was nothing but a mistake i did.” your words not only emotionally but mentally affect neteyam. once you start to leave with no words, neteyam panics and get on his feet quick

“you’re not leaving me…” he didn’t know the damage he caused until he realize he’s losing you. you ignore him and walk away but neteyam was fast to hold you by your hands making you turn and slap him across the face

you hate yourself for doing that but you hate him most for making you do that. “i said don’t touch me.” you say coldly, you’re now the woman he never knew. “and if you dare to try to come close to me again, neteyam,” your soft voice he knew wasn’t there, “i will kill you.”

you’re not just threatening a normal na’vi but the actual future olo'eyktan and you don’t feel a slightest fear when you do. “and trust me when i say that.” your words were familiar just like the first time he met you.

cold and unbothered of anything.

neteyam doesn’t say anything when you turn and leave but once you’re slightly far, your face turns ugly mess as you cry.

neteyam’s ears are still flattened as his tail is locked between his legs. right the moment you were out of sight, neteyam felt his world darken and went grey and gloomy. nothing would be the same with out you every again.

it was his fault this happened, he abandoned you just like your mom and everyone else. you hate him now and nothing’s gonna be the same. “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry” he whispers as he’s standing right where you left him. right where you promised yourself to him last night. right where you gave yourself to him.

right where you trusted him.

i might make this a miniseries? i don’t know lmk in the comments though i’ll depend on my creativity and flow of plot,, i love each and everyone of you!! like + reblog are appreciated and not pressured

[vhaos-chaotic-writing]

ahhhh hi!! If your requests are still open, could I please have Yandere hcs of transformers prime Optimus and Megatron(separate) with a gn reader? If you want you can also add in a random character for Yandere hcs as well! Thank you for your time have a good one!

(Turns around the with the most evil smile of them all) Now we getting freaky!! (•ˋ w ˊ•) Hue-hue-hue !

Yandere!Optimus Prime & Yandere!Megatron (TFP) Headcanons!

WARNING: Yandere behaviour, stalking, typical violence from the series and a little bit more, kidnapping, a lil mention of body horror (not sure if it counts). Reader is Gender Neutral.

OPTIMUS PRIME

I will classify Optimus as a Protective, soft worshipper yandere that has a little hint of uncanny valley (I'll talk about this in a moment).

Optimus' life is sadly surrounded with tragedy as he tries to keep a hopeful light on top of his helm for the sake of not giving up and letting down the Autobots.

We now how Optimus is always mourning and yet keeping his helm up, being strong for the others, being idolized by others and having the fate of "the chosen one" written all over him when... he never asked for it.

And he is tired. It's like he is always walking in the middle of the darkness with not a single path to take - lost, feeling like he is losing himself piece by piece... until You arrived.

As a beacon of light.

He has lost too many loved ones - friends, teammates... but deep down, silently, always thanked Primus to have taken anyone else and not You.

I think Optimus' yandere personality would be like Akemi Homura's love for Kaname Madoka - everytime he sees you, he sees nothing but light. Hope. Perfection. Your existence brings nothing but pure happiness and warmth.

The yandere to always kneel in front of you and hold your hands, thanking you for existing and deem him worthy enough of having your presence near him.

If you are a cybertronian, he would pray to Primus for the day to come he finally confesses his love for you, and you share said feelings too and become his Conjux Endura, in this life and the next one.

If you are a human, he would feel this burning need to become your guardian, your protector. His little safe space from the war and battles, always asking you things about your world and about you, promising you with every breath he takes he is going to keep you safe.

Either as a cybertronian or human, he is not letting you anywhere close to battles. He can't lose you. He won't lose you.

Remember the Uncanny valley thing I said? I see Optimus as this kind of yandere that forgets that he is existing in the same place as you - and stares. Just... stares.

The only thing that is giving out he is still living is how his optics move little by little, remembering everything about you again and again, his systems replaying his promises to you and why he keeps fighting, why he is willing to sacrifice the others and himself - to protect you.

Imagine the Yuri stare moment from Doki Doki Literature Club. Yeah, that is the Uncanny Valley I'm talking about.

Following you, stalking you - and you don't actually see him at first (How when he is just the size of a giant?). You move, you go from place to place, room to room. Until you finally find him, peaking from somewhere. Staring at you as you are swallowed by the shadow he casts upon you.

"My spark... my deity. My one and only." He whispers as he gently snuzzles his helm against your helm/torso as he holds you closely to him.

MEGATRON

Megatron gives me the vibes to be a yandere that changes from a type to another.

Definitely an aggressive yandere, but transitions from sadistic-possessive to delusional-paranoiac with the past of times and the events you live with him.

Megatron can see as much as he wants that he only wants a 'strong significant other' by his side and that he 'will not stick to a weak individual' - if he falls and falls hard it is done for him.

You are going to be in this situation of being seen as an equal but also as a pet or possession he owns in his optics.

Definitely kidnaps you - no matter if you are a human or cybertronian, either part of the Autobots, neutral or a Decepticon.

Is not afraid to threaten you or even hurt you (but not that much, he wants you still alive, after all - he can't love you if you are no longer breathing).

Actively reminds you he owns you.

"You are MINE. I will tear any bot's throat if they ever think they can take you from me - so you better think carefuly the moment you open your mouth, dear. Unless you want to see energon or blood all over the place."

The transition I told you about would happen only if your life is put in danger and actually get too close to die.

Imagine if you are hurt, bleeding and bruised but still breathing, totally gonna survive and live another day. Megatron is not a mech to feel fear. But Primus - he felt a dread and despair as he kept processing what happened, hugging you against his chestplate as his system spirals deeper and deeper, his need to possess you becoming paranoia.

If you are a cybertronian, Megatron is going to start having ideas about... merging his spark with yours - but in a sense fusing, becoming literally one - you'll be his spark as he becomes your body.

"You'll become the energon running inside of my system, my software and system, the spark - that way, no one will take you away from me."

If you are a human, will get Soundwave, Knockout and Shockwave to work on a project - to build you a cybertronian body and fuse you with it, defying the laws of your lifespan and finally making you one of his kind.

"There you are... stop crying, my dear. You are perfect now - and as long as I live, you will live. My conjux endura."

My baby brain hurts, had a headache for like 3 hours. (っ´Ι`)っ Vhaos out!