#and asking him to tell me exactly what happened to make him willing to act like that with leo in the first place | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bunny-jpeg · 6 months ago

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make amends (lando's version)

lando norris & max verstappen

cw: smut/pwp, max gf!reader, sharing, forgiveness, missionary, sex w lando, protected sex (thank god!), rivalry, dirty talk/degradation, humiliation, language that can be seen a misogynistic, mean!max & lando, hair pulling

max version

bunny says: i know everything has been forgiven, but ya know... ya knoooow

max realized he had done something wrong, being presented with the evidence of the collision at the austrian grand prix had him a little second-guessing himself.

"shit." he muttered to himself. he knew that he was going to have to make it up to lando. most would just talk it out in private or even in front of the cameras. but max knew that he royally fucked up.

and it would take a fair bit for the other driver to be willing to make amends. but he knew the way that lando looked at you, how you'd often wave and him and his eyes would go wide before he dumbly waved back.

max knew exactly what would patch up their relationship. he told you over dinner before he ate you out in the bathroom. your dress pushed up and his nose against your clit. you whimpered that you would do it for him, anything to help his career!

"a night. have her, all to yourself. and all is forgiven." max said to the other driver as they were standing near a wall before they had to start practice.

lando looked at him, "have her? like, fuck her."

max's jaw tensed, "i don't want to hear anything about it afterwards. you get one fuck and that's it." he showed his finger indicating how many times lando could fuck you.

"i thought i was getting one night?" lando looked at him curiously, "how long do you think it takes me to get off?" he laughed, "but i accept your offer. name a time and place." then nudged his fellow drive in the arm.

the hotel you were staying at with max in silverstone was beautiful. then again all the places that you stayed with him were beautiful. you could tell that max was tense.

"it'll be fine, max." you said as you adjusted the lacy bra that was picked out for the evening. a harsh yellow and red, like the redbull colours. max's last ditch effort to establish some kind of dominance. you were just thankful you looked nice in it.

his eyes raked your body, "i don't want him to get the wrong idea, but it was all i could think of." his eyes met yours, "he probably doesn't even know how to fuck well."

you went over to him and took his face in your hands, "you're acting like this has never happened before. i'm pretty sure many girlfriends and wives have had to help in making sure her partner didn't have a target on his back!"

he took you by the waist and pressed his scratchy cheek against your middle. he sighed, "if he does anything."

"then." you replied as you carded your fingers through his brown hair, "he won't know what hit him."

when lando came, you greeted him at the door. you were standing there in the skimpy lingerie. the other drive chuckled, "possessive much, eh, max?"

max looked over, he was seated on the couch. he looked at him and narrowed his eyes. his attention was brought to your ass as you went in and pulled him in for a tight hug.

lando hugged you back before you took him by the hand and brought him inside. lando kicked his sneakers off and dumbly followed you through the lavish hotel room. you got into the bedroom and sat down with a smile. lando could feel max close behind before he went over and sat on the edge of the bed. lando asked, "why are you still here?"

max made a face with his bottom lip stuck out and shrugged, "have to make sure you don't try anything stupid."

lando chuckled, "right, right. not worried that you're little minx of a girlfriend is not gonna try anythin' herself?"

you looked at lando and pulled his face towards you, "will all be forgiven after tonight?"

lando laughed, "depends how good you fuck me." then ran his tongue across the top row of his teeth like a predator. he fell into the massive bed with you and felt you start to unbutton his shirt.

lando's hands wandered your exposed skin and his lips found yours. he helped you got his clothes off, especially his belt which almost hit max when lando got it off. once he was naked, he looked over at max as he undid the bra and exposed your breasts to him.

"pretty girl." he chuckled, "don't ya think, mad max?" then grinned at the other man.

max replied, "yeah, i know. i get it every night." he tried to keep a cool head which lando peeled your soaked panties off of you.

lando spoke like you weren't under him, naked and ready to be fucked. he said to max, "ya know, i think you should whore her out more often."

max frowned as he reached over and brushed your face with his knuckle, "i like to keep what is mine." you could feel the energy between the two of them. they were rivals and one was fucking the other's girlfriend.

lando chuckled, "i bet charles would love to have a spin with her." he spoke about you like you were one of the cars on the track. like you should have mclaren or redbull tattooed on your ass.

regardless it made you squirm as you felt lando's cock press against your stomach, he was painfully hard and leaky against your belly button. he was decently sized but not so much that it was intimidating.

max looked up at the fellow driver and said, "let her on top and she goes fast. don't you, mijn liefje?" then looked down at you. he could tell you were getting hot and heavy from it all.

lando started to grope your breasts as he made out with you once more. his cock was squished between your bodies and he was starting to feel hot all over.

max threw the shiny packaging of a condom at lando's head and said, "wear it."

lando picked it up from the bed and looked at max, "aw, where's your fun there, mad max?"

max replied, "i'm not raising your fucking bastard." he could feel a little hot under the collar as he watched you underneath the other driver.

lando admired your nude body as he sat up right, straddling your waist as he put the condom on. he made a noise and said, "i should've said it didn't fit." he looked at max out of the corner of his eye.

max replied, "why, they're too big?"

lando shot daggers at the other man before he bent you in half. your knees to your chest and your glistening pussy exposed to him. he licked his lips before he said, "i'll fit in here just fine though, i wonder if you could ever stretch her out. or am i the biggest she's ever had?"

he made a face when you pulled him back by the hair for him to focus on you. he looked at you with a twinkle in his eye.

"do you want to fuck me or max?" you replied, you could feel the anticipation creep up into your throat.

lando smiled at you and pressed the tip of his cock against your wet entrance. he held you by the thighs and pressed into you, "i'd rather fuck you, love. plus you got the pretty pussy." he went in for another rough kiss as he bottomed out into you.

you felt the air leave your lungs from the feeling of his cock spearing your pussy open. you dug your manicured nails into his shoulders as he got all the way to the root.

"holy shit." lando grumbled, he looked over to max as he loomed over you, "ya fuck her good, huh? what else does this little slut like?" his grin was wicked.

max held you by your hair and looked in your eyes, then to lando. he replied, "she likes when you're rough. she likes to be used, ask nicely and she might lick the cum out of your uniform."

you blushed and looked away, but max gripped your hair and make you look at him.

"tell him, mijn liefje."

you whined when you replied, "i sucked him off with his uniform still on!" then whimpered when he yanked on your hair more, "and then i licked the cum out of it when i made a mess!"

lando looked at max and said, "where the fuck did you find her?"

max went back to stroking your hair and replied, "they don't 'em like her anymore.' he smiled, feeling a bit smug by how impressed lando was with you, "there's no money in the world that could buy a girl like this."

lando gripped onto your hips as he rocked into you. your pussy was nice around his cock, "well, she is a fine piece of ass. a nice little whore to bury your cock in."

max replied, he laid out beside you. he felt hot in the jeans and t-shirt he wore. he also felt out of place. he looked at you, your naked body under the other man. "wouldn't have kept her as long if she wasn't good at fucking. i don't have the patience to train someone."

"oh, so she was already broken in?"

max shook his head as he reached for you breasts and palmed one of them, "oh no. she was brand new when i got my hands on her. never even sucked cock before." the language they were using made you feel like a toy that had been used over and over again. but it also made the heat rise to your ears.

you felt squished under lando and your heart was in your throat. max rarely spoke about you like that, in such terms. but behind closed doors, well you were just the verstappan's sex toy who he got to parade around the paddock.

make the likes of lando jealous.

"trained her huh, you should take a second career in girl training." lando chuckled before he looked back at you. he cupped your face and moved your head from side to side, "world needs more good little sluts like you."

your pussy clenched around lando's cock and he loved the feeling of that. you whimpered as he started to pick up the pace. the sounds of sex and your heavy breathing filled the air.

you matched lando's pace as he cock bullied your insides. your panted and moaned, you clawed at his back, making a mess of it! your heart hammered in your chest as you laid under him.

max's hand was in your hair as the man watched you being fucked. he hoped that lando kept his end of the bargain, or else he was going to make sure that smug fucker wasn't getting podium in silverstone. he didn't give away his girl's cunt for nothing.

"that's a good girl." lando said, "fuck yeah."

he managed to pull, one, two and eventually three orgasms out of you. you were a mess under him. each orgasm hit like a train and turned you brain off. you panted and whined like an animal as he just kept going.

sweat covered your body and you face felt hot. your cunt squeezed his cock as if it never wanted to let it go. the entire scene was hot. if only the press got their hands on this story, then everyone would know that you were a filthy whore.

with a few more hard thrusts of his hips, lando gripped onto your hips and shoved his entire length into your cunt. he came in the condom with your wet cunt around it. part of him wish he could've bare-backed you.

"fuckin' hell!" he croaked. his legs felt like jelly as his pace staggered then slowed. he could feel the pinpricks of heat at the nape of his neck. the rush made his head throb.

"lando." you whimpered.

lando looked down at you and licked the sweat off your cheek, "good girl." he got off of you and went to get rid of the condom. he was panting like an animal as he staggered over to the waste bin to toss it out. he leaned against the wall for a moment, the energy taken out of him.

"holy shit." he said.

max had you in his arms. still in his clothes. you had taken to rubbing your achy cunt all over the expensive calvin kleins. you left a sticky wet spot on the thigh.

"you liked that didn't you?" he asked. you whined in response.

"hey verstappen." lando said as he came back to bed, "give me another condom, you said all night."

max looked at you then him as lando crawled behind you. he leaned over to the nightstand behind him and pulled out the box.

"value pack? are you that cheap, verstappen?"

"no. because when you eventually get tired with her. i'm going next."

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ireneaesthetic · 9 months ago

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Pointing out little moments and details of my fav s3 scene.

choir practice scene • episode 2

this scene caught me so off guard, in the best way possible.

it only took simon's "you should do an activity you actually like" for wilhelm to drop everything and choose getting to spend more time with him!

simon's reaction at wille joining the choir was also mine: he can't believe his eyes and keeps looking back at him with the brightest smile on his face. and simon shifting wille's attention to where the song lyric is bc it's all new to him is adorable.

wilhelm's little proud smirk between the kisses while simon is so into it: he knew and imagined simon's surprised and happy reaction to all this, but i bet he was thriving to see it up until this very moment. so he might just be thinking that he made the best choice of his life.

having to practice and wait for everyone to leave was probably torture for simon, when all he really wanted to do since wille came in was this (simon's main love language is clearly acts of service btw *cough*). he felt important, cared for, loved - and couldn't wait to reciprocate it.

also, he's holding the key chain and happens to do the middle finger with the same hand. if you look at it as a way of saying 'mind your own business' to us is quite funny.

simon setting the rhythm and wilhelm fully going along with it. they don't even separate their lips before leaning in for another kiss - melting into it. they literally said 'no need to catch air bc we're already breathing each other in'.

simon not breaking physical contact even once. his hands are the third main character in this scene: they act like a glue for their bodies and carry so much passion. it is peak chemistry.

going on his tiptoes to push himself as close as possible and clinging to wille for dear life is the most simon thing he's ever done. love really brings out the cuddliest version of him.

smiling into the kisses and out of the kisses? insane of them if you ask me (i support it) (keep doing it lovers).

wille smiling and biting his lip bc he's the one overwhelmed by simon's presence now. physical touch is his love language and he's flooded with simon's - he must feel the luckiest boyfriend on earth.

one of their greatest proofs of love has always been to provide each other's comfort by being exactly what they lack receiving from other people or what they need most of the times - it's a constant learning of how to give and take.

they can't get enough of it: it's not even only about the kissing but more about their need to just keep pulling the other closer, leaning into each other, slowing their movements to not leg go yet but take time to touch and deeply feel instead - wille's face speaks for itself. this hug is so intimate ugh.

it's finally shown a glimpse of wille's hand on simon's back! it was always there obv but it's nice to see it more properly.

wilhelm obsessing over simon's neck and simon who tilts his head back to make it more accessible. wille could've done it all and trace the path with kisses - simon wished - but the boy knew what he was doing!

the way simon looks up at him and wille rubs their noses back and forth, keeping his eyes on him, gives me butterflies.

they're super affectionate and it's the easiest thing for them to do. the intimacy that comes with their whispering, their own personal space becoming one for both of them to share bc it's safer, warmer, a lot more comfortable. everything is such a manifesto of how much they genuinely adore each other - it's what makes this the it scene for me.

their bottom lips touching are sooo *internally screaming*.

wilhelm stands still to let simon's lips brush past his own and simon's cheek resting against wille's lips to enjoy the feeling a little longer. they look so peaceful.

it happens after wille's "i like listening to you sing": they went from "he likes it when i sing" / "i do too, don't i?" (locker room's fight in s2) to wilhelm actually telling him that listening to his voice is one of the main reasons he joined the choir. it has to be extremely special for simon to finally hear it.

idk if it's just my mind making this up but let's pretend simon is kissing wille's neck here!

wilhelm picking simon up by the waist to carry him elsewhere and keep the thing going more privately. that's my wille.

can you believe this is the face of someone who's saying that he needs to go? to not miss the bus? he just looks crazy in love to me.

wille's laugh is cute! and simon throwing his stuff on the floor bc the priority was to push his boyfriend against the lockers to make out will never not be funny.

also, @allthefakepeople once said the only thing that could've made this scene even more perfect is if simon paused when walking away and ran back to wille to steal a quick goodbye kiss - ahhh i'd have been so here for it!

#sorry not sorry for rambling #this scene deserves all the praise #young royals #young royals analysis #yr s3 #choir practice scene #wilhelm x simon #wilmon

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cressidagrey · 18 days ago

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You are the best thing that's ever been mine - Part 7 (The End)

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Ariel Cane (Original Character)

Summary: Sao Paulo 2024. The Dutchman delivered a defining drive…but maybe there is a relationship that could also use some defining.

Warnings: Jos Verstappen, angst, crying, mention of pregnancy, mention of sex and sexual acts, physical confrontation

Author Notes: Hi, hey, hello! Apparently I write F1 Fanfiction now?! Also this is the first time I am trying a social media au so my Canva Skills were put to the test. (Disclaimer: I kinda put legibility over authencity, so twitter doesn't look like twitter and messages looks like...something) Also huge thanks to @onebigfangirlworld and @leodette for holding my hand with this 😘)

"Did you really throw Lewis of your Christmas Cookie list after Silverstone 2021?!" Max asked Ariel, his eyebrows climbing into his hairline after reading that particular text message.

Ariel didn't even bother looking up from her breakfast, as she was scrolling through her own phone.

"Yep," she said, popping the p. "I crossed him off my Christmas cookie list for two years. No cookies for Lewis."

Max looked at her, his expression a mix of amusement and bewilderment. "Two years?" he said, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

If she had thrown Lewis of her christmas cookie list for two years, there was no chance that Lando was getting any cookies this year. "That seems a bit harsh, don't you think?" he said carefully, but Ariel just shrugge.

“I am very aware that your job has its dangers,” Ariel said drily. “This wasn’t about what happened on track. I was making a point.”

Max’s lips curving upwards slightly at her words. "What point were you trying to make, schatje?" he asked, a hint of mirth peeking through his nonchalant tone.

Ariel finally looked up from her phone, bluish-green eyes that never could quite decide which colour they wanted to be, mustering him. Her expression serious. "The point was about respect. You could have died. You battled severe vision problems for the rest of the season. And Mercedes was talking about it like it was a lesson you were finally being taught. Lewis wasn’t the only one on a cookie ban. Everybody at Mercedes was," Ariel said sharply. “Because their behaviour after that crash was completely unacceptable. I decided that a two year ban without my cookies was enough to drive that point home."

Max's amusement turned into a full-fledged smile at her explanation.

"So, Mercedes' team didn't get cookies for two years?" he asked, clearly trying not to laugh. Ariel arched an eyebrow, a defiant look in her eyes.

"Yes, exactly," Ariel replied. "No one from Mercedes received any Christmas cookies for two years. And let me tell you, Lewis was heartbroken."

Max couldn’t help but laugh then, the sound deep and rich. The image of Lewis' disappointed face, finding out he was on her ban list for two years, must have been a sight to behold.

"I bet he was," he said, his laughter slowly subsiding, even when he couldn’t help but smile at her.

This was Ariel in a nutshell. She had always, always been unapologetically in his corner. There had never once been a question about her loyalty. She may called him out on his bullshit, but she was just as willing to go to bat for him.

"You're ruthless when it comes to your cookies, you know that?" he told her with a smile.

She inclined her head. “I have my principles,” she said simply. "And those principles include doling out cookie-related punishments when necessary."

Max shook his head, completely smitten.

"Oh, I know very well how protective you are of your principles," he said with a hint of tenderness in his voice. "And I love that about you." Max leaned back in his chair, his expression becoming more serious.

"But I have to say, it's touching that you were so upset by what happened during the race that you decided to ban everyone at Mercedes from your cookie list. But two years is a long time without cookies, schatje."Ariel seemed unrepentant, her defiant side shining through in her expression. “You didn��t need to do that. I am tougher than I look,” he told her with some amusement.

"They were lucky it was only two years," she snorted, her voice holding a note of irritation. "I was thinking about a lifetime ban."

Max chuckled again, amused by her determination.

"Lifetime?" he repeated, the word hanging in the air. "You really didn't pull any punches, did you?" She just shrugged, just as her phone vibrated. "Any reason why Victoria is texting me to tell you to call your Mom`?" she asked drily, after a short look at her phone.

Max rolled his eyes, even as Ariel’s phone pinged again. And again.

"Lewis did apologise about the betting pool by the way," he informed her and Ariel just snorted.

"He is worried about getting blacklisted again," Ariel told him sagely, and he couldn't help but laugh.

"I'll get my laptop," Ariel said softly as she stood, leaning down to drop a kiss against his hair and Max couldn't help himself but to pull her into a proper kiss. Max pulled her onto his lap, his arms wrapping around her waist with ease.

When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers. A smile played across his lips as he spoke.

"You know," he murmured, his voice dropping to a lower, huskier note. "I could get used to having you here. In my lap. Anytime." He didn't want this moment to end. He could feel her breath against his neck, her fingers tracing small circles on his shoulder.

He was about to pull her in for another kiss when her phone pinged again, breaking the blissful bubble of intimacy they had created. "Call you Mom," Ariel told him pointedly as she stood.

Max chuckled, reluctantly letting her go. "Spoilsport," he teased, but his eyes were full of affection.

He reluctantly picked up his own phone and dialled his Mom's number. His mother answered on the second ring.

"Maxie! You took your time to call," she scolded him immediately.

He had. Mostly because he had no idea what to say.

What was Max supposed to say?

He had won a race. He had finally figured things out with Ariel...

And he was quite sure that the next time he tried to talk to his father it wouldn't end well at all, because his father had laid his hands on Ariel. And that was simply unacceptable as far as Max was concerned.

He opened his mouth to respond but his mother continued, talking over him in her typical, motherly way. "Are you alright?" she asked abruptly, her voice filled with worry.

He wasn't about to lie to her. "I...I am getting there," he admitted, his voice rough. "Did you see..." his voice broke before he could bring out the words.

"Yes. I saw," his mother said darkly. "Everybody saw, Max. Sky kept a camera onto the whole...thing. I am so sorry," she apologised to him and he couldn't stand it. First Ariel apologised to him about what his father did, then Victoria and now his mother.

He couldn't stand it.

Max felt a sudden flare of anger as he thought about the cameras catching the whole scene at the garage, his father's behaviour on full display.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm his thoughts.

"It's not your fault," he said quietly, his voice betraying his emotions. "You don't need to apologise for him."

His mother was quiet for a moment, her voice softer when she spoke again.

"I know. But you are my son and I..." she trailed off, seemingly lost for words.

Max could sense her struggle, her own emotions warring through the phone."I'll be fine," he reassured her, his own voice quivering slightly. He appreciated her concern, but he didn't want to add to her worry.

He forced a light tone into his voice, trying to sound more like himself. "I'm a big boy,” he assured her. He was quite sure that his mother din’t believe a word he sai.

"How is Ariel?" She asked him instead.

Max couldn't help the smile that tugged the corners of his lips. The mention of her name lifted some of the weight off his chest.

"She's...she's good," he said honestly. "She's handling everything better than I am, honestly."

He glanced over his shouler, back inside as they had ha breakfast outside on the balcony…and found Ariel with her laptop on her lap sitting on the couch. Her focus was intense, as usual, as she typed away.

"You two are good together," he heard his mother say, her voice gentle. "I always thought so. At least one good thing came out of this whole mess," she said with a chuckle. “Even when it took you the better part of a decade.

Max's lips lifted in a small smile at her words, his eyes still trained on Ariel, his girlfriend. His girlfriend.

He couldn’t quite believe it, but he adored every single moment of it.

An he agreed with his mother. Despite everything, things between him and Ariel had turned out for the better. She was here, in his room, as his girlfriend and he was glad for it.

He couldn’t imagine to going back to being just friends, to not be able to reach out an pull her into a kiss…to not hear every single soft noise that escaped her as he pressed his lips to hers…

"Yeah," Max agreed quietly. "One good thing, indeed.”

"Look after her," his mother said, her tone now taking on a more serious note. "I know you will. But take care of her. And yourself while you're at it."

Max felt a warm rush of gratitude wash over him. His mother's concern never failed to touch him, no matter how old he was.

"I will, Mom," he assured her, his voice softened by affection.

"...What will you do with your father?" she asked him curiously.

Max's smile faded at her question, his thoughts turning dark once again.

He had been avoiding thinking about his father, not wanting to deal with the complicated mix of anger and hurt he felt. But he knew he could not run from it eternally.

He took a deep breath, his voice quiet and rough. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "I can't just...I can’t just let it go, Ma. Not this time. He laid his hands on her," he added, his voice filled with a burning anger that he couldn't suppress. The image of his father's hand connecting with Ariel’s soft face… it was making him utterly furious.

His fingers clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white. "I can't just forgive that."

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment, a heavy pause that carried the weight of his words.

When his mother spoke again, her voice was gentle, "You don't have to forgive him, Max. No one will force you to."

"Vic can do whatever she wants, obviously," Max continued. "But I am done. I don't want him anywhere near Ariel. I don't want him anywhere near my family."

His mother was silent for a moment again and he knew she was just processing his words.

"You are serious," she said quietly, her voice holding a hint of awe. "You really mean it, don't you?"

"Yes," Max answered firmly, his voice sure and steady. "I've had enough, Ma. This...this was the last straw."

He closed his eyes, his stomach turning at the thought of his father's actions.

"He laid his hands on her. I can't ignore that. I won't."

His mother was quiet for a moment, digesting his words. He could practically feel her surprise. His relationship with his father had never been easy and she knew that from personal experience.

Finally she spoke again, her voice careful but firm. "And what if he doesn't take your decision well?"

Max couldn't help the weary sigh that escaped him. He knew his father well enough to know that this would probably turn into a shitstorm.

"I know he will get angry," he admitted, his voice low but unwavering. "He always does when I don't just do as he says. But...this time I don't care."

“He can talk to my lawyers,” he said drily. Though he probably woul owe them truly ridiculous amounts of money to deal with his father when all was said and done.

His mother chuckled lightly at his words, a hint of amusement in her voice. "I'm sure they will be looking forward to that," she said dryly.

Then she sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of years of dealing with her ex-husband. "He won't go down quietly. You know that, right?"

Max nodded grimly, his free hand clenching into a fist. "I know," he said, his voice heavy with the knowledge of how stubborn his father could be.

He had grown up with his father's temper tantrums and his endless list of demands. He knew all too well that his father would not accept his decision without a fight.

But Max was no longer the little boy who had to comply with his father's orders. He was a man, a fully grown adult, and he was determined to stand his ground, no matter what.

His voice was firm when he spoke again. "It doesn't matter," he said. "I’m done with letting him control my life. I won't back down ."

There was a pause on the other end of the line and Max could almost see his mother nodding, her face a mixture of worry and pride.

"You're stubborn like him," she said suddenly, the amused tone back in her voice.

Max smiled, a brief moment of levity in this dark conversation.

"You always were a determined little boy," his mother continued said, her voice filled with memories. "Even as a child, you never knew when to quit. I swear you're only getting more stubborn with age."

He couldn’t but chuckle quietly. His mother sighed.

"So you and Ariel," she changed the topic, trailing off leadingly. "Can I finally expect some grandchildren from you, then?"

Max almost barked out a laugh at the question. He was caught off guard by the sudden switch in conversation, but the subject wasn't an unwelcome one.

"Ma," he said, his voice tinged with both humor and incredulity. "One crisis at a time, please."

"It's a valid question," she said in response, her voice filled with feigned defensiveness. "I'm getting old over here."

Max rolled his eyes, a fond smile on his lips. "You're not THAT old," he teased.

His mother huffed at his words, amused but pretending to be offended. "I am old enough to be a grandmother, Max! I want to spoil some grandchildren before I'm too old to enjoy it."

Max chuckled, the lightheartedness of the conversation a welcome break from the heavy topics of their previous discussion.

"I'm not disagreeing with you," he said lightly. "But you're going to have to give me a little time. I just got her, you know."

His mother snorted at his words, her voice filled with a mother's knowing. "Oh, I know you well enough, Max Emilian," she said, a hint of mischief in her voice. "Trust me when I say, it won't take long for you to put a ring on her."

Max rolled his eyes again at her words, but he couldn't argue with her logic. "We'll see," he said, his voice trying for a nonchalant tone.

The truth was, his mind had already started wandering down that path of its own accord. But he wasn't going to admit that to his mother just yet.

"You keep telling yourself that, Max," his mother said with a laugh, her tone filled with maternal certainty. "In a few months, I will have another daughter."

Max chuckled at her words, the thought sending a jolt of excitement through his chest. The idea wasn’t as scary as it should have been.

"You are awfully sure of yourself," he teased, his voice tinged with amusement.

"I know my son," his mother said simply, the affection in her voice clear. "And I know how much you love that girl."

Max felt a lump in his throat at her words, the truth of her statement hitting him hard. He loved Ariel with all his heart, more than anything in the world. He couldn't deny that.

"Ma..." he began, his voice growing a little rougher.

"It's alright," she said gently, understanding the emotions behind his words. "You don't have to say anything. Just...take care of each other, yeah?"

Max nodded, his throat too tight to form words. He knew what she meant, the unspoken worry for the road ahead. But he was determined to face it together with Ariel.

"I will," he managed to speak, his voice filled with determination and love for her. "I promise."

"Good, Maxie," his mother said, the nickname making him feel like a child again. But he didn't mind. In his mother's eyes, he would always be her little boy.

She paused for a moment, then added, "I'm so proud of you, Max. You know that, right?"

Max felt a wave of emotion wash over him at her words. To hear his mother say that to him, in this difficult time, meant more to him than he could express.

"Yeah," he said quietly, his voice a mixture of gratitude and love. "Yeah, I know."

He felt a strange sense of peace wash over him. Despite everything that had happened, despite the storm on the horizon, he knew he had his mother's love and support. And he had Ariel. He was not alone.

His mother's voice was soft when she spoke again. "Go back to your girl now," she said, a hint of humor back in her tone. "She's probably wondering what's taking you so long."

Ariel’s email inbox was an absolute nightmare

She couldn't stand the sight of it anymore.

Between the concerned emails from friends, the offers of support from colleagues, and the endless messages from people she had never even interacted with, her inbox was a swirling mess of sympathy, curiosity, and unsolicited advice.

She hated it.

With a sigh, she shot off a message to her friend Madeleine, making some plans to see each other sometime before Christmas...something which hopefully would involve more than one strawberry daiquiri.

(God, she really could do with one right now.)

She also had no idea what to do with the sprawling apology that she was quite sure Lando had either asked ChatGPT or Oscar to help him write.

She wasn’t sure which was more likely and less weird.

(Ariel also wondered if it was only about her christmas cookies…but she was willing to cut some slack…maybe.)

Other than that...it was still a nightmare. Ariel started to copy paste her response to every single media inquiry, which was that she was very much fine and very much not interested in talking to any of the media outlets about what had happened between her and Jos Verstappen and also very much not pregnant.

The mere thought of having to talk to a horde of journalists, all eager for the next juicy story, was horrifying.

She wasn't one to seek the spotlight, and the fact that she was suddenly thrown into the center of it against her will made her feel both irritated and violated.

Leaning back against the sofa, she took a deep, calming breath.She hadn't even "started" with her phone though. That one was also a nightmare of seemingly every person in her life deciding to blow it up with numerous messages. Some of it was really quite sweet. Some of it definitively wasn't though.

The amount of people reaching out to her felt almost overwhelming. Her phone was inundated with text messages, calls, and voicemails, all filling up her notifications to an almost dizzying degree.

Some messages were nice, filled with warm wishes and support. But there were also those that were much less pleasant, asking questions that were far too intimate. Some even seemed downright judgemental.(...Ariel’s list of people that were going to get cookies this year was definitively dwindling down.)

At this point, it was difficult to tell who was genuinely concerned about her and who was just trying to squeeze some gossip out of her. She found herself growing increasingly frustrated with each new message she read, the constant barrage of questions and inquiries making her head spin.

With a weary sigh, she put her phone down and scrubbed a hand over her face, feeling utterly exhausted both mentally and physically.The whole experience felt oddly voyeuristic, like strangers were peering into the most private corners of her life, trying to satisfy their curiosity without any regard for her feelings.

And she didn’t even dare to look at her instagram…or on tiktok. Or on the website formerly known as twitter. Until she did and then clicked away again immediately.

Social media was a vast minefield of people throwing out comments that were anything but helpful. From armchair psychologists to self-proclaimed relationship experts, they seemed to know exactly what she should - and shouldn't - do.

"Hey."

She looked up to see Max join her on the couch, sitting next to her. He held out his arm for her and she pushed away her laptop to curl against him.

The one good thing that was coming out of this drama was their relationship.

"Hey," she greeted him softly. "Good talk with your Mom?" Max nodded, his arm wrapping around her body and pulling her close. The feeling of her body against her was pure comfort.

Ariel happily leaned against him with a sigh.

"Yeah, she just wanted to know how we're doing," he said, his expression a mix of weary and affectionate. "She worries. You know how mothers are."

She did. There didn't pass a day where Ariel didn't miss her own mother.

She leaned her head against his chest, taking in the solidity of his presence. His hand began to move in soothing, lazy circles on her back.

"This isn't some sort of fling to me," Max told her suddenly. She was so surprised by his sudden change of topic that she could just stare at him. "I would probably marry you tomorrow, given the opportunity. I wasted 5 years, I am not wasting anymore time."

She could just stare at him, her mouth suddenly dry at this look in his blue eyes. It was…decisive. There was no other word for it.

Max had mae up his mind.

An his words made Ariel’s heart flutter in her chest.

"Max..." she began, not certain of what to say.

Marriage wasn't something she had considered in the midst of all the drama. It had… well. It hadn’t crossed her mind. Not yet. Not while there were a thousand moving pieces all around them.

“I just want to be with you,” Max told her fiercely. “We don’t have to do anything right now, if you want to take it slow. That’s fine. Anything you want is okay. But I am serious about us.” Max said, emphasising each word slowly and clearly.

He was serious, completely serious. The raw honesty in his eyes told her everything she needed to know.

"Max," Ariel said his name quietly, her voice thick with emotion. She searched his face, looking for even the slightest hint of doubt or uncertainty. But there was none. He was earnest, sincere, and utterly in love with her.

"I love you too," she whispered. "And I am serious about us too."

Max's eyes brightened at her words, his whole face lighting up with a smile. He tightened his arms around her, pulling her even closer into his embrace.

"You mean that?" he asked, his voice filled with a slight tremor of disbelief and hope.

"Of course, I mean that," she promised him softly. "I love you. And I can't wait to spend the rest of my life doting on our two spoiled cats and stopping them from taking apart your Sim Rig. I can't wait watching you win races and knowing that you come straight home to me. And I can't wait to see what you'll do when you are done with it all and decide that you want to try out something new. I can't wait to grow old with you."

Max was stunned silent by her words, staring at her, swallowing.

"That's all I ever wanted too. Just you, me, and our little monsters. Nothing more, nothing less,"he said, his voice catching.

"Maybe some kids too. Down the line," she teased him. She wanted that. One day. Max had always been amazing with children.

"You...you would want that?" he asked huskily. "You want children with me?"

Her hands rose to cup his face. "Of course," she said softly. "I want everything with you."

With him, the thought of children didn't seem so scary. It felt more like a promise of the future, a future that would be filled with love and laughter.

Max's arms around her grew tighter, desperate almost. He pulled her even closer, burying his face in her neck and inhaling deeply.

"I don't deserve you," he mumbled against her skin. "I truly don't."

Ariel gently cradled his head against her, running her fingers through his hair in a soothing motion. "Shush," she whispered. "Of course you do. I love you."

They simply sat there on the couch for a moment, wrapped up in each other. The world outside their little bubble seemed to fade away, and all that mattered were each other.

"I really want to go home," she said softly. "And cuddle Sassy. And Jimmy."

Max chuckled quietly and nodded into the crook of her neck. The thought of going home after the last few days sounded idyllic.

"Yeah," he agreed, his voice muffled. "Let's go home."

(Author's Note: While this finishes off this particular installment, I am SO NOT FINISHED WITH THEIR STORY. It will be a series and I have A LOT of ideas. So I will wildly skip through the timeline 😅😂 (Also if you have ideas/prompts/suggestions, they are always welcome!)

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lcriedlastnight · 5 months ago

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Can you do a fluffy and angsty fic for Lando after Austria, his girl comforting him. I'm surprised there aren't more after what happened under the tags but the only ones that were there are smut, which I don't really want to read I want fluff and angst.

sorry it took me so long to respond anon! i've been swamped.

tw: fem! reader, swears, AUSTRIA!!!!, lmk if you want me to add anything.

w/c: 1k

you watch as lando trailed after max and you knew one of two things was inevitable. either lando was going to overtake max and finally take the lead after what seemed like forever, or the two boys were going to crash into each other.

you watch with one eye open every time lando tries to overtake max. you makes your body tense up as you fear that this will be the time their tires touch. you try to stay hopeful but you know that this will not end well, neither drivers willing to give up their positions and both trying to fight for that first place position.

it happens so quickly, it was a blink and you'll miss it incident. all you see is lando's mclaren try another move on max then something flying in the air. you can hear shouts from the mclaren team around you but you were still confused, you were not sure what exactly was happening. you watch as max slows down and lando finally overtakes him. you hear that he has received a five second penalty. you see a flash of a red bull fly past in the pit lane and then suddenly, lando's own car is stopped, practically half of its back wheel missing. it is then that it finally registers. they had contact and it had caused lando to retire from the race (you later found out it was his own decision).

you had not been with lando long enough to know what to do in this kind of situation. you just stay where you are for ten minutes until maybe the last few laps of the race when you feel lando's presence looming around you.

he does not even have to ask you to follow him as he heads towards his drivers room, head bowed down, not even looking where he was going. the boy was lucky he did not walk into any walls. if it had been any other situation you would have laughed at his carelessness but right now you had no clue how to act.

once you were both in the privacy of his room, lando slumps down on the little couch headfirst. you linger at the door, your hands longing to soothe him and your mind crying out to tell him it will all be alright.

"are you alright?" you question. it comes off timid as much as you tried to seem confident. you knew it was a silly question. you knew he was not fine but you just felt like you had to ask. lando sighs into one of the throw pillows at the question. for some reason this is what spurs you to spring into action. you take the few steps over to join him on the couch and sit as the space next to his feet.

"lando, look at me." you tell him, you voice much more firm and stable than before. lando does as you ask and turns himself so he is facing you and looks at you so sadly he might as well have just ripped out your heart out and jumped on it right there and then.

"that was all max's fault. you did nothing wrong. you tried an overtake, you wouldn't be a racer if you just sat back and let max lead the whole race. you're the only person on the grid who is consistently challenging max every weekend, that's something to be proud of.” you grab his hand gently and let your thumb rub it's own path along the skin of wrist.

"i'm shit. i've had one win and now i can't seem to do it again and when i finally get the chance to, like today, max just fucks me up because he would rather dnf than finish second! and he didn't even retire the fucking car he actually kept on racing which makes me look even worse!" by the end of his rant his voice was louder and you could see the tears of frustration in his eyes.

you swiftly pull him up by his hand to be face to face with you. you hold eye contact with him, letting him know how much you meant what you were going to say.

"you are not shit, lando. you've had one win and now you're hungry for more, of course it's gonna hurt a little when you come second again but listen to me. every single race you are getting closer and closer to max. i know you want it to be now but just because it isn't doesn't mean you're shit. it just means that max knows you are more of a threat than before miami and he can't just saunter along like he did at the start of the season. you're doing so well, please don't doubt yourself."

lando listens through your entire rant without trying to interrupt once and once you are finished talking he drops his head into your lap. "i really, really thought i was gonna get it this time. i really wanted it." he mumbles into your thigh. you know it is killing him and you cannot stand it. you know the only thing you can do to help him though, is to listen to him and give him the most comfort you can manage.

you sigh, hand coming to run through his sweaty, messy curls. "i know, baby. it's coming and it will be so fucking great when it does. i'll be here waiting for you and then we can celebrate like it's first, huh? that sound good?"

you can feel the small smile lando manages on your leg as he nods against it.

you stay like that for what seems like ages but you know it cannot be that long because before lando can even ask the time there is a knock on his door, alerting him that he had press to do in two minutes. he sighs and hauls himself from his comfortable position.

"you're so strong lan, be strong." you tell him with a quick kiss to his lips. lando knows it is a good luck kiss. lando also knows that you know how much he hates doing any kind of press or media when he was feeling like this.

"wish you could come with me." lando's frown is so deep it sort of looks like a half pout half frown. you smile at his cuteness.

"when you come back we can go back to the hotel, order in and watch that adam sandler film you like."

this seems to perk the boy up significantly as he give you a peck on the forehead before rushing out to get his media done and dusted. a night in with you sounded like heaven to him right now. he did not want to me reminded of the events of the day's race but he would put up with it for the end result. you and him cuddled up, together. it is all he ever wants.

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lilacliquors · 2 months ago

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kinktober day thirty: thigh riding

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 883

notes: happy day thirty! i can't believe we're almost done with our third kinktober, like that's wild to me. and i'm gonna start prepping for the 12 days of ficmas in the next week or so, so be on the look out for that, too!

he only made you ride his thigh when you were being a brat, and some days, you couldn’t help yourself.

that night was one of those times.

he’d been gone for far too long, in your opinion, and you wanted just one night to have him all to yourself. however, it looked like that wasn’t going to happen right away, much to your disappointment. it was like the moment he got home, he got called back out to take care of something, and it was torture. you two didn’t know a moment’s peace, and you wanted that to change as soon as possible.and that night, you took matters into your own hands. it wasn’t the best decision you’d ever made, but it usually got you what you wanted, with some strings attached, of course.

before he could make his way out the door, you whined at him, begging him to blow off work just this once, that it wouldn’t happen again, you’d never ask again, the usual. and like always, he just shook his head and tried to explain that he couldn’t stay, it was urgent, and no one else could handle the issue. and he’d almost made it out the door successfully, but then he caught a glimpse of you in the mirror you had hung in your hallway.

you had perched yourself on your shared bed, undressed and in a lingerie set he’d not seen you in before. it was purple and lacey, leaving very little to his active imagination. he knew what you were doing, and he knew he had to be strong willed. but the way you were sitting was too enticing, and a growl vibrated in his throat.

“fine,” he said, turning around and marching over. “fine, you wanna play this game? you wanna make me late?”

you let out a squeak as he picked you up off the bed, like you weighed nothing, and he sat down in your spot. then, like he’d done a million times before, he settled you on his leg, making sure you faced him as you straddled his thigh.

“you know the rules. you wanna act bratty, you’re not gonna get exactly what you want from me. now, ride my thigh like a good girl, and maybe we can take care of your other needs when i get back,” he said, and you nodded, your heart pounding in your chest.

you knew what you had gotten yourself into, and you had to admit, he was sexy when he was annoyed, but you knew that he loved you more than anything. so, with your hands on his shoulders, you began to grind against his thigh, rocking your hips against the material of his pants. that, with the friction of your panties against your folds, made you gasp softly. it was shaky, and you felt your cheeks warm up, but he simply held your waist and kept you right where he wanted you.

“ah, ah,” he muttered, giving you a squeeze. “keep going. keep going until you cum, like you wanted to badly.”

you moaned, the pressure against your clit and the sound of his voice spurring you on. you wanted to cum so badly, though you wished it was from him fucking into you, nice and slow, stretching and filling you in the best way possible. those thoughts alone had you speed up, and god did he love to see you lose control.

“that’s it, there you go,” he muttered, rubbing your back with one hand. “just like that …”

you nodded quickly, your grip on his shoulder tightening the faster you moved. instead of rocking your hips, you rolled them, his thigh muscles pressing against your clit just right. it made you whimper, and he knew you’d found your sweet spot.

he didn’t dare say another word, he didn’t want you to lose your rhythm. instead, he let go of you, leaned back, and let you go wild.

the sounds that left your lips were music to his ears. every moan, gasp, whimper, he loved it. and he could tell by the desperate way you ground against the muscles of his thigh that you were close.

“gonna cum for me?” he whispered, and you nodded, unable to really form a sentence. you were just aching for that release, for it to hit you all at once. and when your mouth fell open in a silent cry, and your body stilled while your grip on his shoulders tightened further, he just knew.

he caught you as you fell forward, your legs shaking from the sheer exertion, and he kissed your forehead gently.

“shh, i got you,” he muttered, rubbing your back with a gentle hand.

“do you still have to go?” you asked, your voice soft.

“mhm. but i’ll be back in under an hour. then, i promise i’m gonna take care of you the way you deserve. can you be good for me for forty five minutes?” he asked, and you nodded.

“mhm, i can. pinky promise.”

“good. get some water, rest up, and i’ll see you in just a little bit. you’ll be begging me to take a longer assignment so you can recuperate.”

“unlikely,” you replied, and he gave you a squeeze as he chuckled.

“we’ll see about that.”

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes kinktober #lilacliquors kinktober 2024 #kinktober2024 #kinktober 2024

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creedslove · 9 months ago

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LONGING ✨

Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: His longing for you is going to be the death of him, especially if he thinks he isn't good enough

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of paid sex

A/N: it's been a long time since I managed to write something more than a headcanon, but you know, it feels I'm back, modestly and Pedro Pascal and his smooth clean shaven plus mustache face is to blame for my return, it has awakened something in me

1.5k words

Javier was embarrassed, ashamed and mortified. He didn't want to do that, to ask you that, but at the same time he really did. More than that, he was desperate, he needed to ask and to know your answer. When he stepped inside your apartment earlier, all he could think of was standing by your side and taking care of you, while you went through another one of your dreadful migraine episodes. At first he was really torn between showing up or not, worried that would make him look like a sick lovey puppy, but at the same time, it was exactly what he was and even if he couldn't be with you in that way, he still wanted to be a part of it and enjoy some time with you, allowing himself to pretend there was something more than just the bond you two shared over a total unexpected friendship that grew between you both. He liked spending time with you overall, more so when you were alright, excited and willing to have a drink, go out, dance or just act as the only ray of sunshine that truly mattered in his life; but there was something about just standing silently next to you, making you a cup of tea and playing with your strands of hair very gently it made him come running to you every single time he sensed you weren't doing that well.

No matter if the lights were dimmed, if the TV was low and you were lying on the couch, your head on his lap as his fingers ran through your hair and he could just enjoy how cozy everything around him was. He still had a question, a doubt hammering his chest and it made him uneasy, needing to let it go and just get to the bottom of it as soon as possible.

“Cariño…” Javi's voice was soft as you opened your eyes at his calling, it always made you flutter to be addressed like that by him “...can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah, Javi…”

“I-I like this woman… I don't know how to approach her, and what should I do?”

There he said it. It was out in the open, his pathetic question aimed at you with a slightly shaken voice, he felt his cheeks burning with embarrassment as he felt himself back in the seventh grade. He needed to know, he needed to open up and tell you you were that woman, he needed to see if he had any chance with you, but then, he couldn't bring himself into doing it, it was paralyzing, because it wasn't just lust, or a silly crush, it was more than that, it was craving, passion, love.

You, on the other hand, couldn't help but laugh softly, not sure where that joke was coming from. Why was Javier talking like an inexperienced schoolboy was a mystery to you, so raising your head from his lap and sitting straight up on the couch, staring at him with a confused frown, you could see there was no laughter, not even a smirk, he was completely serious about his question and you felt unsure what to say.

“Oh.. you mean that?! I'm sorry..” you chuckled a little embarrassed and licked your lips thinking of what to say next, being honest was always the best and the go to option between the two of you “well, Javi that's surprising, I mean, you are Javier Peña, women like you, not the other way around you know what I mean? You can get any girl you want, so this one just made you lost?”

Javi took a deep breath and ran his hand through his jaw, looking at you and nodding, making it so obvious his discomfort.

“Yeah…” his hand traveled through his hair still shyly “I just like her, for real… thought it wouldn't happen to me, the idea of, you know, being in love seemed so distant. I don't know what to do”

“Is this like Lorraine?”

Javi chuckled at that; the only love reference you ever got from him was a woman he left at the altar when he wasn't much more than a teenager. He was a mess, not being able to develop a single meaningful relationship in his life and suddenly aiming for it with you, while you weren't even aware of that. Shaking his head, he looked into your eyes

“No, Lorraine was different… I liked her, but I didn't love her. I was also younger, immature and a real dick, but that was long ago and she forgave me and found a decent man to build a family with. This is different now, I don't know what to do, what to say, I feel I'm not enough…”

“Well Javi…”

“All I'm saying is that I feel I'm not worthy, you know? What could I do so she would see I'm real..”

“You can always stop the whoring, Javi”

You shrugged and smiled, sort of joking at the same time he tilted his head and watched you attentively, he wasn't expecting that answer but now he got it, he was intrigued.

“What I mean is that if you want to show this girl you like her, you gotta stop going after any women, no prostitutes, that kind of stuff. You see, if it were me for example, it would be a deal breaker, I wouldn't want to be with a man who does that. No offense Javi, you are a great guy, but in a romantic sense I guess no woman would be okay with knowing their boyfriend is well-known all over the whorehouses in Bogota… it would be embarrassing, humiliating even, to know whenever you get into a place with your boyfriend everyone knows he's been sleeping around”

Javier went silent. His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach as he stared into your eyes. That's what you thought of him; he knew you didn't mean to offend him, you knew you didn't judge him for his ways of life, as long as you remained in the friendship area. It was as clear as the sky you would never be involved with him. He couldn't even blame you for it, only himself for ever thinking he could have a shot with you. He didn't know what to say, he wasn't necessarily offended, he was simply disappointed in himself and his unrealistic expectations, he was heartbroken because he had ruined everything before he could even start it.

“Y-you think she wouldn't be with me because of that?”

You noticed how upset Javi seemed and you immediately regretted the words you'd said. You were so used to being honest and straightforward towards him, it didn't even occur to you your words could hurt him. Words never seemed to hurt Javier Peña in the first place, so why was that so different? It didn't make any sense to you, sighing you looked into his beautiful sad eyes once more.

“I don't know her, Javi… maybe this isn't a big deal for her, all I'm saying is that if it were me, I wouldn't be okay with it, I guess, but you're a wonderful man, no matter what and if she's worthy of you, she'll love and accept you no matter what”

“You think I'm disgusting?”

His words broke your heart, you could never think that of him, he was your Javi, and even if you didn't agree with his way of living, you cared about him. Placing your hands on his cheek and caressing them gently.

“Of course not, Javi… I am just jealous I guess, I wouldn't want that many women around my man, and I think you deserve so much better than that. You are handsome, sweet, intelligent, you shouldn't have to pay for that, you should be able to have a family…”

You said sweetly and Javi gave you a sweet, sad smile, you didn't know if he agreed or not, but he held your hand in his and stroked it with his thumb. He'd always been so gentle with you, he was often much better than you deserved it. Whoever that girl was, she was damn lucky.

“Do you mean that, cariño?”

“Yes, amor…”

Javi's heart raced as you called him that. Amor. Love. Could it possibly be it? Perhaps he did have a chance?

“You know Javi, the embassy ball is coming, maybe you should invite your girl to come with you” you suggested and he chuckled, it was his turn to place his hands on your cheeks, always dwarfing them with how big he was compared to you. Javi still wondered if you were playing hard to get or if you really hadn't realized you were his girl.

“You're right cariño, but I could invite anyone in the world, and none of them would be as beautiful as you are”

He loved you, his heart ached from the longing he felt, he didn't know if he had a chance with you, sometimes he thought so, and sometimes he was sure you were way out of his league, but one thing he knew for sure: he'd love you for the rest of his life no matter what.

____

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simpjaes · 10 months ago

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enha is desperate horny losers 🔛🔝

i know you probably didn't ask for this but idc

hyung line being desperate and horny

warnings: one mention of piss, virginity loss, mdni

★ heeseung:

sure, he can be desperate. an utter mess, really. eyes empty, cock so fucking hard just looking at you anytime you're around him. as if you don't know he wants you, him knowing you fucking do.

you tease him so aggressively and it pisses him off knowing he can't have you. he's not allowed, or some shit. fuck bro code. he could give less of a fuck that you belong to sunghoon right now, by next week it'll probably be some loser like jake or something.

never him though, for some reason.

he's so tired of going home all alone, fucking his fist right up against his apartment door because he can't manage to make it to his own bedroom before needing the touch. so desperate for you. so goddamn horny out of his mind that he genuinely thinks he might just fucking kill himself if you don't spread your legs for him for real within the next three minutes.

always trying to lure you, always always always wanting you to break before he does. after all, anyone can see you want him too. you just like to play games and he's sick of it. perhaps he's willing to lose this time, if just to get your legs spread around him.

it wouldn't really be a surprise to you by the time you make your way to his place yet again, in that same outfit that you know drives him up a wall. you know you're walking into a lion's den when you step inside. he's already hard, staring at you with narrowed eyes.

"you know exactly what you're doing walking through my door dressed like that." he'd comment. "you think i won't do it, don't you?"

you'd laugh. you'd brush him off. you'd ignore every passing comment thinking you can still tease him, thinking you can still walk away like you're doing nothing to him at all.

it's not a game to him at this point though, because he made himself very clear throughout the day with little comments. little aggressive touches. little degrading remarks. and by the time you think you're safe to leave? oh, no no.

"where do you think you're going?" you'd hear him rush up behind you. "i told you."

he did tell you, and you still stayed.

"Sunghoon's going to kick your ass for acting like this, you know."

"Still trying to make fucking jokes?" He'd rumble the words in a tight voice, slipping his hand straight between your legs from behind and feeling the mess you hide from him time and time again.

"You always this soaked for me or did you just piss yourself in my kitchen?"

"Sunghoon-"

"Fuck Sunghoon." He'd say as if it's the last words you'll ever hear. "This-" he grabs your cunt, his fingers pressing your panties into your hole. "is for me, isn't it?"

☆ jay:

it's not even embarrassing anymore. with the way you know jay wants you and you still pretend like he doesn't. like this friendship is normal and not at all filled with an immense amount of sexual tension.

like you didn't makeout with him at jake's party last weekend, whispering drunken words over what you'd let him do to you.

honestly, it wasn't anything more than a simple friendship before that happened. he isn't sure whether to curse the strong drink or thank it.

you've acted like it never happened since that night but he, oh, he can't stop fucking thinking about those filthy words you whispered up against his ear. "come on, jay, all those study sessions? i keep my legs spread just enough for you to slip your fingers down-" and "could take me to the bathroom right now and do whatever you want."

he's pissed that he didn't do it. then again, you were drunk and so was he. he probably wouldn't have been able to make his way to the bathroom that night without crashing his head through a wall, in all honesty.

oh, but now. as he sits during another study session with you plus two other people who could give less of a shit. you were right in saying you always keep your legs spread for him. he never noticed it too often before, but considering he can feel your thigh pressing against him? maybe you really do want him to slip his hand down. maybe you really do want his fingers.

goddamn.

he hasn't gotten his dick wet in months.

still, you act like what you said at that party never happened at any other time. still, you sit like you hope he remembers it. and, well, he's desperate enough at this point to at least try. right there in front of the group.

his hand slips to your thigh, and his brain is no longer focused on formulas. instead, he's entirely in his head about the little shocked jolt your body does in response. he almost pulls his hand back but he can fucking feel your skin prickle under his palm. it's enough to keep his hand there, petting up, up, up.

his hands are shaking when he looks at you, cock twitching and weak in his pants just like his brain every time you make eye contact with him. you spread your legs a little more as he looks at you, urging him to keep going. unfortunately, the poor guy looks like he's holding back due to the, uh, situation regarding the two other friends in the room.

you're quick to jump up on your feet. fucking finally he's picked up the hints.

"i'm going to the bathroom." you say as you lay a hand on his shoulder, only directing the words towards him at first before looking up to your unsuspecting study group.

jay isn't going crazy right? that's an invitation, right?

and, well, he doesn't fucking care at this point to make himself look a fool. he stands up before you even close the bathroom door and dead-pans at the poor souls about to hear him lose his goddamn mind on you.

"I'm gonna, uh, you know-" he starts, pointing his thumb to the bathroom and watching the curious onlookers swap their faces to something that is...knowing.

"yeah." he admits now, standing with a proud hard-on and rushing his way straight the bathroom and opening the door.

There you are, already up on the counter with your pants fucking gone. He's so fast to slot himself between your legs, not thinking twice before attaching his lips to you in a desperate attempt to quiet his thoughts.

"took you long enough," you'd chuckle into his lips, feeling his desperate hands fucking tear your panties off of you before sliding in without so much as a moment of foreplay.

you both were anticipating this though. and god, did the wait make it feel so much better.

★sunghoon:

sunghoon will never defeat the allegations of being "too polite". which fucking sucks because no girl will come for him unless they're looking to get married within the next six months.

god, it's such a fucking issue. his scene isn't exactly to go out and hunt for girls to fuck but at this point he might just have to. fuck all those people who talk so highly of him. (literally, if he could at this point.)

"oh! sunghoon is such a good guy! he'd be the perfect boyfriend!"

"don't even waste your time trying to sleep with sunghoon, he's too serious to play around like that."

"he's too nice to fuck you the way you want, really, go for someone like heeseung."

because of all that praise towards him, he hasn't gotten laid in close to a year. no party he's attended has yielded results, no study sessions with pretty girls even when he tries to make a move, no pussy is willing to spread for a man who seemingly would treat it right.

fucking rude.

"jay, please."

the roommate rolls his eyes, grimacing at the very idea.

"why her?" jay shoots back, holding his phone so tightly, all while sunghoon grips his wrist as if he's gonna rip it clean off his body.

he needs that fucking phone.

"you said she was a real slut, i need this. please. I won't even clean her up after."

jay can see the desperation in his eyes, though he didn't entirely need to considering his roommate has been parading around with a desperate boner for the better part of six months.

"she's my ex girlfriend." jay scolds, ripping himself from sunghoon's grasp.

"exactly!" he shouts back, trying to plead his case. "she had like, what? six dicks not including yours when she was with you? why can't I just-"

"what makes you think i'd help you now after saying that?" jay rolls his eyes again, but he knows well enough how it feels to have heavy balls and no girl to empty them into. "anyone but her."

sunghoon's eyes light up when he looks at his friend, and it's not even a full ten minutes later before he's got a list of potential fucks recommended by jay himself. sunghoong does have to ignore the hateful looks after the fact, but decides he'll just apologize later for...you know, trying to go for jay's ex.

why he didn't do this sooner though? well, he really thought he'd be able to get some girls to come to bed with him on his own by now, unfortunately, he's grown far too pathetic to keep trying on his own.

jay's truly a great friend. just yesterday sunghoon was jerking off a solid eight times just to satiate the need and now he's got four of the six girls texting him back.

god, he was so gross about it too. barely even introduced himself, just sent a selfie and a small line of "been looking for a pretty girl to hang out with, jay say you might be interested."

going from 0 choices to 4 choices felt insane, honestly. sunghoon nearly cums in his pants at getting a "yes" from the prettiest one. and it only took an hour for him to hear jay greet you awkwardly. like he didn't have his dick in you just last week.

and goddamn is it great for him. he barely lets you into his room before his hands are just fucking....going. straight up your shirt, his lips go straight to your neck, cock immediately on your thigh and pulsing.

you're not too upset about it, really. you both knew what this was gonna be, and there was a reason you didn't wear panties. then again, who would? you saw his selfie, that alone was enough to get you to meet him pretty much anywhere.

and that desperation in him really showed. it bubbled up in the form of frantic, hard, fast thrusts. he chased and chased the pleasure, not at all giving you much love through it. not that you needed it, the guy gives good dick. It's all you can really ask for during a hookup.

and he keeps going, and going. so much cum to give, so much stamina. to the point that after the second session of sex, he starts to feel more like himself.

the sex gets better, less frantic, and he's more careful about how he's already made you sore. his hands are softer, he starts talking, he starts playing with you, appreciating you for letting him use you previously.

and by the next morning, not getting a single second of sleep, you're shocked when he asks for your number. you're even more shocked when he texts you later that day with more appreciation, asking to go to fucking lunch.

and that's when sunghoon realizes all those nice rumors about him are fucking true. because why the fuck does he want to make you his girlfriend without so much as learning your favorite color?

☆ jake:

jake loves you. he loves you so, so much. your virginity was never an issue, truly it wasn't.

emphasis on wasn't.

when he asked you to be his some two years ago, it wasn't an issue. a year into the relationship, it got a little difficult but he communicated that to you well enough. to the point that you were more than happy to compromise and offer a little bit of something to him. you got plenty out of it too, of course.

so, for a year now he's been surviving off of dry humping. that's it. just...grinding, humping, and messy jeans. time and time again, he knows it's all he's gonna get but fucking hell you're so...

god, you make him so horny. and perhaps you being just out of reach sexually only amplifies that but he can't help it at this point. sure, he cums every time you guys start grinding and kissing but more often than not you'll find him secretly in your bathroom shortly after with wet palms trying to stimulate himself in a way that he really needs.

in a way where he isn't rubbed raw and in pain the next morning.

he doesn't want to push. he won't push you. after all, you said you'd tell him when you're ready.

at this point, as he sits in his room sliding his palm up and down his sore length, he's unsure if you'll ever be ready and he's faced with the fact that he isn't sure if he can spend his life with someone who would never want him to-

his eyes roll back at the thought of all the things he'd like to do with you. for you. fuck, you'd look so pretty getting off. and it's the fact that even as he lays here thinking of you like this, he can't imagine what your tits would look like because he hasn't fucking seen them. he can't imagine what your pussy would feel like because he's only ever felt it over a thick layer of pants.

have you ever even gotten wet? if you had, he's sure you would've wanted it by now.

and so, he cums like that. very very upset. a very bad orgasm. one that didn't satisfy him in the slightest and one that definitely won't help him last through this fucking sleepover he has with you tonight.

he's unfortunately right about it too. because not even an hour passes before his cock is leaking against his pants and he's having to keep from moaning just from a simple shift of his leg as he walks around your apartment.

you note his difficulty in being around you today, and you're very aware of his hard on.

"jake, do you want me to sit on y-"

he groans before you can even finish asking. the sound is more frustrated than he's ever sounded towards you and it kinda...makes you feel bad. mostly because it's not like you don't think about it. you very much want to experience your first time with him. unfortunately, you've kind of had it hammered into your head that sex=bad. so, you've been a little afraid of it. though, after all the dry humping and stuff, orgasms aren't....so bad.

they're great, actually.

"no." jake answers you shortly, avoiding eye contact with you probably to keep his own sanity as he flops down on your couch. "i just need to cool down."

you walk over to him, unaware of how literally anything you do makes him want to push you to the floor and just fucking........take it.

"jake, you know you can ask. just let me sit on it." you offer, trying to straddle his lap for another session of not-enough.

"no, no." he pushes you away from him, moaning at the small pressure you did manage to press against him. "i think i just need, like, more than that right now. i'm gonna go to the bathroom."

and he does. he doesn't even kiss you before he stands up and makes his way in there. his tone sounds so focused on something that isn't you that it actually kind of hurts.

and this whole time you know he masturbates but you're never aware that he does it when you're here. he blatantly admitted to needing to go do it himself instead of letting you??? what the fuck??

and it kinda clicks in your head that like.....why is it that the fear of all that sex suddenly disappears when you think about the jake is probably going fucking insane right now? he's possibly losing interest in you, even. oh my god, what if he's going to go find someone else that'll ....

you rush to the bathroom, finding the door locked. you press your ear against it, feeling a pang of jealousy over nothing more than his own hand.

you hear the slapping of it, his palm hitting the base at a frantic and desperate pace.

you knock once. "jake?"

you hear him moan, the slapping only intensifying.

"jake, open the door. please?"

and he doesnt. he finishes before he even considers looking at you again, more for your own safety at that point rather than his own sanity. after all, had you of walked in and looked at him in the midst of a lust-stupor...well...

anyway, he opens the door and looks at you out of breath. instantly that softness is back in his eyes and you're already aware that it's time for a fucking talk. a make it or break it talk.

and hours pass as you talk. you explain, he explains, and you come to realize that jake truly is a person willing to do just about anything for you. he'd suffer for you, he'd lock himself in the bathroom just to cum so he doesn't have to ask you over and over again, just so he doesn't have to beg you or guilt you.

that's all it took really, to want to give him everything he needs too. two years of close to nothing and you never once realized how badly he needed it until now?

and the fear isn't there when it's with him. you see him struggle with his control when he finally sees your naked skin for the first time. you know he wants to go fucking insane on you but he knows he can't.

and he doesn't. he shows you that all those fears were useless. nothing hurts. his fingers are soft on you, in you. his tongue is warm and loving when he uses it all over you. and even when he slides into you for the first time, he contains himself. shushing you, letting you adjust, and then not needing to lose his mind because you do it for him.

working him about as quickly as he would have for you, never once did you realize how much you needed to feel full while enveloped in his arms. he just let you too, sliding back and forth, wiggling around on his cock with no rhyme or reason to how you move.

it feels so fucking good for him. to see you, feel you, watch you, fuck you. god, if he knew just this morning that this is what he was missing?? on god he would have had to tie himself up to just keep you safe from the lust that would've poured from his soul.

thankfully, he doesn't need to be tied down now. not with your legs practically doing it already, moaning for him, asking him for more.

he loves the words he truly thought he'd never be able to hear you say. honestly, all he can do is let you go insane, as if you've been the one needing this for the past two years. after all, now that it's happening, he's sure he'll have you like this again if the way you move your body on him is anything to go by.

#enhypen smut #heeseung smut #sunghoon smut #jaeyun smut #jongseong smut #sim jaeyun smut #jake smut #jay smut #hardthots

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minus-plus-zer0 · 4 months ago

Text

Beauty Pageant Headcanons

♡ Genre: Fluff ♡ Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

You entered the U.A. Cultural Festival's beauty pageant, with Bakugou acting as your coach.

How the hell did this happen? Well, you both lost a bet with Ashido, that's how.

The girl ships you two pretty hard, and although she doesn't always say it directly, it's obvious from her behavior. She rigged the bet in her favor just to get you together like this.

Bakugou's livid, but you hold him back from committing murder. You're really good at keeping Bakugou out of prison, it's like your second Quirk at this point.

So instead Bakugou turns his attention to you, and he starts ranting about how it's not TECHNICALLY murder if they don't find the body, but you're not having it and you're really just fighting for Ashido's life here.

Ashido knows not to invest in life insurance, but instead to invest in YOU. That's why she's letting you deal with this while she scurries into hiding for the foreseeable future.

Anyways, you and Bakugou are stuck together. Lucky you!

He's blaming you for this, since he knew it was a trap by Ashido. But you were just too cute and sweet, too willing to go along with whatever Ashido was planning, and that's what got you into this mess. He's really trying to convince you to not defend her at every chance, like you do with EVERY Bakusquad member he attacks, but it's hard to find his arguments persuasive when her life is in mortal peril, so you dismiss his anger pretty easily.

He HATES having his anger dismissed, and this only makes him more pissed. You try to calm him down, like you always do, all sweetness and smiles.

You're actually not even 100% against the idea of entering a beauty pageant, so it was easier to convince you than it was to coerce Bakugou into even being here. He can't understand your giddiness right now, it's more confusing to him than Ashido's.

But Bakugou is yelling your ear off while you check out the various clothes available on the clothing rack. You're trying to find something real cute and your style, but there's nothing that catches your eye. You're still looking through the racks and you're a little worried nothing is gonna look good on you.

Bakugou notices you worrying and he criticizes a lot of the outfits available here. He's got an eye for fashion, given that his parents work in the industry. But he usually doesn't pay attention to fashion magazines, models, beauty pageants, it's all stupid useless shit to him. That's another thing you disagree on.

But you're a bit embarrassed about wearing any of these outfits around him, knowing he's so critical. Regardless, he's grabbing some clothes off the rack and pushing them towards you and directing you to the changing room to try it on. Shyness be damned.

You put on the first outfit he gave you, but it's showing a bit too much skin and you're wondering what the heck was running through his mind while he picked this.

He's telling you to show yourself already so he can judge it but you're no fool. You say you can check it over yourself haha, no need to see this and to embed it into your memory forever haha!

Well he doesn't agree. "Stop being shy and get over here!"

"Make me!"

He can't exactly do that, now can he? He's flustered at the thought.

"...Can you please come out? I won't fucking judge you, alright?"

'Please' is a rare word coming out of his mouth, and you're one of the few he tells it to. So you do as he asks.

You emerge from the changing area, wearing the outfit he picked. He's checking you out in a thoughtful and not creepy way.

"That one doesn't work," he says, paying no attention to your offended expression. "Try the next one."

This goes on for the next few outfits. You didn't know what he was looking for, but he wasn't getting it. To be honest, you weren't really fond of how some of the outfits looked on you either, which made the whole thing more disappointing. Your earlier giddiness is gone.

"Can we stop?" you ask. "It feels like I'm ugly no matter what I'm wearing."

Bakugou opens his mouth to speak, then closes it. He looks like he's thinking his next words over carefully. Then, the words fall right out of his mouth before he can stop them.

"You're NOT ugly. They're all gorgeous, but none of them are the best. We need the best to win."

You're shocked he just called you 'gorgeous', but he's shoving you back into the changing room before you can keep looking at his embarrassed face.

After trying on some more outfits and being repeatedly shoved around by a red-faced Bakugou, you emerge one final time. Still red, Bakugou is now grinning like a serial killer and you hope that means good things.

"Perfect." Bakugou's grabbing your hand and he's pulling you out of the dressing room. "We gotta go practice your routine!"

Before you can even comment on his reaction, you're at an adjacent private training ground for contestants. You're distracted by trying to get him all tomato-faced again. You're pinching his cheeks saying "Where did that other guy go? The one whose face could change colors? You looked so similar, was he your cousin?" but Bakugou's warding you off and telling you to work on your form.

You spend a few hours perfecting it until Bakugou's finally happy. By the end, you're questioning Bakugou about why the heck he even cares so much, but he's telling you that it's getting late and you both should shower and get some dinner.

Post-shower and dinner, you're looking around for Bakugou who's been avoiding you all evening. You're a little hurt. You text him asking him why he's ignoring you. He finally texts back, saying he's not ignoring you and to come over.

You're allowed into his dorm room, and he's waiting for you on the balcony. He's out here alone in the dark, with the balcony lights on and with nothing but his phone. His screen shows your texts.

You take a seat beside him and then pinch his cheeks.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"For avoiding me like I've caught a disease! Bakugou, I thought we were buddies?"

He's grumbling to himself. "I wasn't trying to hurt you, dummy."

"Then what were you doing?"

He's looking away from you and you're trying to catch his expression. Then, he finally meets your gaze, embarrassed but determined.

"I know you care a lot about this crap, and it'd make you sad if I didn't even fucking try to help out. It's not my fucking thing, but I'll make sure you win."

He looks a little torn before he says the next thing.

"Because I love you, alright?"

You're kissing him now and he's shocked, you almost wish you could've taken a photo of that cute flabbergasted face before he pulls you in by the collar, kissing you back. It's his first kiss and you stole it right from under him, and he couldn't be happier.

The big day comes. You've prepared as much as you can with your (now) boyfriend the night before. Ashido is nowhere to be found, she'll likely in the crowd somewhere.

You complete your routine as planned, it's very cute and it's very you, but it wasn't a crowd favorite. Nejire ends up winning anyways. Bakugou doesn’t get it, all he’s seeing is you after the contest is over, happy as hell he picked out that outfit for you because you look great in it as he's kissing you passionately.

To him, he still knows you're the best in his heart, and that's what matters most. He's happy knowing that he got you and that Ashido's days are still numbered.

You enjoy the rest of the Cultural Festival, and you and Bakugou make sure to find some private alone time now and again…

Until Ashido texts you, saying "So have you asked him out yet?"

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strayy-starss · 7 months ago

Note

Hii! Could you do some Elliott Headcanons? If not, don't be to shy w the Alex smut🤭

✧A/N: Yes of course!! Elliot is definitely my second favorite bachelor, so this is absolutely perfect!! And don’t you worry, Alex smut will be coming in the future 😏. Also, I wasn’t sure if you wanted NSFW or SFW, so I just did them both! Hope you don’t mind :)

✧Warnings: eventual mentions of sex and kinks

☆SFW & NSFW Headcanons for Elliot☆

✧ SFW:

Elliot definitely reads a lot of books (like, a LOT). I feel like this is a given, seeing that he writes them and has a library when he moves in with the farmer. Let me tell you, though, if the farmer is also a reader, he will be ecstatic. And I mean, like, through the roof. He’d want to talk about them all the time and he’d likely recommend lots of books for you to read based on both your preference and his.

I think he’d also love to read books out loud to you, whether or not he wrote them or not. His voice is angelic though, so it’s not like the farmer is complaining.

Speaking of books, he’d definitely ask you for your opinion on plot lines or scenes for his stories, regardless of whether you’re a bookworm or not. Mostly I feel like he’d just seek validation that his writings are as good as the ones that he’s read, or just good in general.

I feel like sometimes, and I mean VERY rarely, Elliot will spiral into a place of despair when it comes to his writing. When that happens, he can go into writer’s block and will push you away to think of ideas. If this happens, depending on the severity, I think you may be able to pull him out of it with reassuring words and cuddles. If he’s in too deep, however, it’s best to give him space until he makes it to a better place, where he either figures something out, or decides it isn’t worth the trouble. He’d definitely apologize to you after the fact and make it up to them with lots of TLC.

Elliot doesn’t use the words “pretty” or “handsome”. No, he uses words like “gorgeous” “stunning” “glorious” and “ravishing”. I’m sorry, but this man is way too sophisticated to use simple words. Make that shit fancy and pair it with a silky voice and you get Elliot.

Elliot’s a wine kinda guy. He’d definitely have those nights where he feels compelled to make a charcuterie board with all those cheeses and grapes and have some red wine with you.

Now, I know you’re all thinking it, and I'm thinking it too: Elliot with a ponytail. I bet you he loves his hair, but it does get annoying sometimes when it falls in his face when he’s trying to write or help out around the farm, so he definitely keeps a hair tie on his wrist in case he needs it. He’ll always offer it to you, too, if he thinks you need it.

He’s an early riser, too. He’ll be up before you and he’ll be sitting and reading a book with a cup of coffee and he’ll greet you like, “Good morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?”

And like the gentleman he is, he probably does a lot of extra and unnecessary, but thoughtful, things for you. Like, if you’ve had a long day, he’d sit you down and take your shoes off for you, even though you insist that you can do that yourself. Then he’d take off your jacket if you were wearing one, and make you a nice cup of tea so that you can wind down with him.

✧NSFW BELOW THE CUT✧ ⬇

✧ NSFW:

I firmly believe that Elliot’s a switch. He’s always willing to take initiative, but we all know that Elliot is a pretty princess at heart and sometimes just wants all the attention.

God help me this man knows how to talk dirty. He’s read enough books that he knows exactly what to say to you in every circumstance, and exactly how to turn you on or get you in the mood. And then the next day he’ll act all innocent like he wasn’t just whispering how much he was gonna ruin you last night. He’s the type of guy to say, “I don’t want you to be pleasured. I want you to be trembling.” (Jesus FUCK I’m down bad for him.)

I feel like Elliot would set up a safe word with you, but he��d want it to be something symbolic or fancy or something. Like instead of “baseball” it would be “nightingale” and you'd have to spit that word out when you want him to stop. Speaking of, as soon as you do say the safe word, he’ll stop everything and just gently hold you, whispering that he’s sorry and that he hopes you can forgive him, even though you really aren’t that mad at him at all, just a little shaken.

As far as kinks go, I think Elliot is open to almost all kinks with a few restrictions on things that he just isn’t into. I feel like he’d especially be into bondage and blindfolding. It’s more of a spiritual thing for him, as it opens you up fully to him, like you can’t hide anything from him anymore and you completely trust him with your body. If you aren’t into that, then he’ll be a little disappointed, but would get over it quickly as long as you promise to let it happen on his birthday.

Elliot absolutely loves to be tied up, though, for the same symbolic reasons. He trusts you with his whole being, and knows that you only want to make him feel good.

He's a sucker for neck kisses, so give him a hickey or two. He wears that collared shirt for a reason, right?

He hates the idea of a gag. He loves to hear you crying out in pleasure. It fuels him and makes him feel happy that he could pleasure you so much. If you want it, though, he'd never deny his lover what they want, even if it means he can't hear you as well.

Elliot naturally isn’t rough when it comes to sex, but he most definitely can be. This man will be on his knees to do exactly what you want him to. He prefers it that way, actually. So long as you give him the guidelines of what you want him to do, he can take it from there. If you don’t, though, he’d probably be asking a lot of: “Is this okay?” Because like the gentleman he is, he would never want to overstep your boundaries, even though he probably knows everything that one can about sex.

He’d definitely use writing as an excuse to see you naked. It would be something about him needing to know the anatomy of a person, regardless of your gender identification or sex. It would be funny if you were a man, too, because then he’d get all flustered when you’d ask why, as he’s a man himself. He’d make up something like how your body is shaped differently than his, and he needs a reference that isn’t himself.

Same thing about writing goes for sex. He might ask you to touch yourself or even him for a scene, and he’d take notes as he’d try to hold himself back from touching you. He’d jot down every little sound you make and every single word you say to “make the scene more real,” though it may or may not be for him to read and masturbate to later.

You later figure this out and tell him that he doesn't need an excuse to have sex with you, but he gets embarrassed and insists that it truly is for his writing, though he will be a little more open-minded about it in the future.

✧ That’s all, thank you for reading!! I also need to make a longer list for Alex. I feel like I didn't do my baby justice, seeing as I wrote much more for Elliot.

#stardew valley #stardew valley smut #sdv elliot x reader #sdv elliott #sdv elliot x farmer #sdv x reader #stardew valley headcanons

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yumecel · 25 days ago

Text

Attitude Adjustment

💞 yandere/dark![zhongli, wriothesley, dottore, pantalone, yae] / f!reader | headcanon list

summary: how do some dark!genshin characters react when they think you’ve given them enough attitude?

tws: dead dove. there’s definitely traces of my misogyny kink in this shit my bad. humiliation, infantilisation, public humiliation. yandere, again humiliation, degradation

a/n: uueuagghugh. euieuegah. hahaurgh.

i promise i’m 18+, i promise i’m okay with seeing dark content, i know this will haunt me in the world to come should i lie [yes⬇️] [no↩️]

Zhongli

- You cannot tell me this man doesn’t just straight up spank you

- Wouldn’t dare to do it in public modern-day Liyue though, but you’d know exactly what’s waiting for you once you get home when you look into his eyes

- For the meantime, he’s all whispered reminders, gentle, then a little firmer, then authoritative

- I imagine older Zhongli is quite lenient with disrespect, simply tells you how unbecoming it is to act like this, that he’s more than willing to listen to your concerns if you use your adult words…

- As for a younger Morax, he. Well. He kinda just goes for it. He’d lean over with a gaze so penetrating you couldn’t dare to make eye contact, and ask politely, restrained, for an apology

- If you didn’t give it, it wouldn’t matter who you were in front of, he doesn’t find it remotely funny, he doesn’t care- anyone who previously witnessed your disrespect towards him would also witness how he was a man that was unafraid to keep his wife under control.

- You’d be over his lap before you could process what was happening, begging for his mercy with words that spill out involuntarily with every smack searing against your rear

- And he’d probably find a corner for you to stand in too, nose to the wall, bare ass to the room. Good luck making eye contact with anyone else in the room after that experience.

Wriothesley

- He’s pretty communicative, so you get a lot of chances. And a lot of warnings.

- He’s happy that you can resolve things easily most of the time. Ever the reasonable man. But when you don’t, or when you push him on a day where he just wants to sit back and relax with his beloved, well….

- Also a little inclined for a traditional over-the-knee spanking, but really, testing a guy with access to a variation of prison equipment is like a lucky dip where every prize is humiliating and/or painful

- He can use restraints so intense you have to beg him to accommodate all of your needs, all the while he asks “And what do you say?”, making you mutter out defeated thank-yous

- He can switch out all your clothes just as easily, keep you entirely in the nude in his office as you earn it back piece by piece

- The mere threat of revealing a little too much about your situation to the prisoners often works

- Do you really want everyone to know you’re his bitch? Forget keeping things to the bedroom, he’ll fuck you over his office desk and not stop until the entire fortress hears you screaming his name

- Or at least, that’s what he says. And he is a firm believer in the idea that good dick is a good attitude adjustment. There’s something about begging to cum that really quells your snippy remarks!

Dottore

- First off, you’re insane for even trying anything

- You actually have to hope here that he just gets a little turned on and not irritated enough to perform inhumane experiments on you that will permanently destroy your ability to give him any attitude (he may also be a little turned on during this.)

- He definitely has the means to make a 1:1 replica of his dick and gag you with it whilst he gets on with some work. Just confined to choking and drooling as he hums to himself like you’re actually saying anything meaningful

- And honestly, Dottore would really appreciate a bitchsuit. If you don’t know what that is, it’s basically a bondage suit that confines you to all-fours, walking on elbows and knees. That and a shock collar. Act like a bitch, be treated like…

- Would laugh a little as he watches you struggle to move from place to place. There’s something a little cute about it; you, so small and insignificant that you’re crawling on the floor at the whims of your master, reduced to less than nothing

- Probably makes you lick his boots clean in that state to “prove” you do actually respect him

- Don’t invoke this side of him too often. He might end up getting the idea that he can train you to perfection using well placed electrodes and vibrators…

Pantalone

- When he stops calling you ungrateful and goes dead silent, that’s when you know you well and truly messed up

- There would likely be a huge amount of control he exerts over you in the first place, you’re his doll, his plaything, his dearest treasure

- He has some business connections that wouldn’t bat an eye to the sight of you on your knees in front of him, mouth slowly wrapping around his cock as his hand presses against the back of your head

- Dignity is truly a privilege around him. And he’s kind enough to keep you fully clothed around these unsavoury people. Fail to repay him and he will start counting up the debts

- With the threat of something greater, with the threat of something like a permanent collar or being sent to Dottore or Sandrone, you’ll find yourself doing whatever he says.

- So if he tells you to stop covering yourself and sit on top of his desk, spreading and rubbing your pretty pussy for his esteemed guests, you’ll do it.

- If he tells you to edge yourself throughout the whole thing, you will do it. If he wants you to speak only in barks for the rest of the day, you will do it. If he wants you in a certain position, you’ll hold it for as long as he wants. If he wants you on a leash, crawling alongside him on your hands and knees, you will endure the aches.

- You’ll kiss the ground he walks on before you disrespect him again. Show some reverence for the man that gives you everything.

Yae Miko

- This woman has an expertise in all manners of humiliation and degradation

- And she’s usually very tolerant of the banter that takes place between you two. But that doesn’t apply to absolutely everything

- Present yourself as difficult and she’ll simply say “Oh? Is that how you really feel?” with a devious grin on her face

- To be honest, she looks forward to times like these. No holds barred.

- She has a lot of choices. Could she put you in something revealing and make you promote Yae Publishing House’s next book signing? You’d look adorable in a pair of pink fox ears and a tail plug, maybe a skimpy little shrine maiden costume

- Ah, but that’d be the repayment. She still has the actual punishment to consider.

- Probably invents some ancient transgression you’ve committed against her all so she can punish you “traditionally”

- This involves putting you in stocks outdoors paddling you thoroughly for being so terribly disrespectful in the presence of the Grand Narukami Shrine. This will, naturally, be in broad daylight. Just pray she doesn’t invite people to watch.

- A few days later, you’ll approach her quietly at the edge of the book signing, hoping the customers don’t notice too much of your reddened thighs and ass

- “Please, Miko, can you take out the plug? It’s starting to-“

- You’re interrupted as her hand dives under the costume, finding your clit easily with the lack of underwear. Her thumb circles it so gently, so lightly. You try to stand perfectly still but shake when two fingers dive inside your pussy, curling so quickly your knees start to buckle

- She pulls them out, spreading them so you can see the humiliating amount of slick. “Are you sure you’re not enjoying this?”

- Holding her fingers up to your mouth, you obediently lick your juices off her fingers.

- As she wipes off any residue on your thigh, you remain quiet.

- “Back to work now. You still have two more hours.”

- You try to check your inner thighs for any signs of this encounter, but the way she grabs your wrist tells you that you’re not allowed.

- You turn your back on her and return to the signing, but not before she gropes your abused rear

#yandere #yandere genshin impact #yandere wriothesley #yandere zhongli #yandere dottore #yandere pantalone #yandere yae miko

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ficnation · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter 4: Bon Appétit

Series: “Eat Your Heart Out” Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Female! Reader x Will Graham Word count: 4,6k+ Warnings: canon-typical warnings, 18+, SMUT A/n: I'm really putting off the inevitable here sksksksk. Enjoy and let me know your thoughts <3 Btw this is my first time writing explicit smut (unedited)

This is also another late piece to @the-slumberparty Bingo Card event (prompt: proposal) - > Events Masterlist

Main Masterlist || Hannibal Masterlist

PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

When Will comes home that night after promising you he’ll only be gone for a few hours, he’s doing anything in his power not to look you in the eyes. He kept his word, coming back exactly three hours and twenty-six minutes later. You stare at him, intrigued. You don’t understand why he’s acting this way, but your mind screams at you that it can’t be anything good—it’s right, like always.

“I resumed my therapy with Doctor Hannibal Lecter,” he informs you after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence. He still doesn’t look at you, as he takes off his jacket and boots.

“You did what?” You blink at him in confusion—utterly dumbfounded. The meaning of his words doesn’t even register in your brain.

“I’m going to keep on seeing Hannibal,” Will repeats in the same monotonous voice.

It hits you like a train, and your stomach churns at the thought of them sitting across from each other, talking about emotions and Will’s life. Your expression turns to one of disapproval as the man expected.

“After everything he’s done, after everything he put you through, why would you do that?”

Will doesn’t respond right away, and you can tell he’s struggling with his words. “There are things I need to learn about myself,” he says finally. “About what it’s like to be me.”

You stare at him, burning invisible holes in his head, trying to decipher what is truly happening here. The guilt that emanates from his person, the fact that he still can’t meet your gaze—it’s more than suspicious. The realization hits you even harder than the fact he wants to be anywhere near Hannibal Lecter.

“Why are you lying to me?” you ask, voice on the verge of breaking. You hate yourself for ever thinking that he trusts you completely after all those years apart. The tears gathering in your eyes are more angry than sorrowful.

For a moment, Will goes silent. The silence is thick, full of tension as the two of you remain in your positions—you watching him, and him with his back turned to you.

Then, he closes his eyes tightly, as if fighting against a headache. He finally speaks, but only after turning slowly to face you. You immediately notice the pained expression on his face, the guilt that drips from his very skin.

“I have to keep seeing him.”

You go to protest again, but the sound of your voice cracks, and no words emerge. Will doesn’t wish to ever hear this noise from you again. It feels criminal—being the one who caused it. His heart breaks in a way it never did before—it stings like someone delivered it one thousand cuts.

You both remain silent for what feels like an eternity. Will doesn’t look away from you, and your eyes are locked on him, on that misery and pain staring right at you. No one moves, no one blinks, no one probably even breathes. Everything is still, except for your heart which aches even worse than it did before. The silence gets so thick you can almost feel it—touch it. For the life of you, you don’t want to be the one to break it.

You want to speak, beg, convince him to stop these mind games, to give you an explanation you could understand. But you choose to keep your mouth shut, slumping further into the cushions of the armchair.

Will’s eyes don’t leave you. They remain fixed on you as if willing you to speak, to tell him something that would make all of this suddenly go away. Anything.

He wants you to read his mind, and understand his pleas, but you can’t— and even if you could, you wouldn’t. You don’t do anything, don’t even move a muscle and after a few moments of waiting, Will finally breaks the silence.

“I don’t want him to do this to anyone else,” he says. His words are soft and quiet, but they carry a weight that you feel in your chest.

“Yet you didn’t start with that. You chose to lie.”

Will sighs. He looks exhausted as if you’ve been here asking him questions for hours, even though it’s been twenty minutes at most.

“I didn’t want you to stop me. There, I said it,” he says. “It was hard. Harder than anything I’ve ever done. Can you just cut me some slack over here?”

You don’t answer right away. You don’t know what to think or what to say about this whole situation. It seems absurd, and you have to remind yourself that you might’ve paused your story with Will Graham, but for him time has passed, things have changed.

You’re not proud of the words that leave you next. God, you wish you could just catch them in the air before they have a chance to reach his ears and put them back in your mouth.

“Change your fucking tone, Will.”

You’re shocked with your own words, but Will doesn’t seem annoyed or offended, not like most people would. He’s still staring at you, but you notice the slightest hint of amusement in his expression as if this new side of you intrigued him rather than annoyed him.

“You don’t like me speaking to you like that, my dear?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. He makes no attempts to sound serious—just enough to make you laugh, but his words carry weight. He’s genuinely curious.

Will Graham just called you “my dear” and your whole face warms up at this term of endearment as you observe him fall to one knee in front of your person.

“What are you doing?” you choke out, confused, butterflies fluttering wildly in your chest.

Will takes his time to reply, his eyes scanning you and your reactions. He seems to enjoy the sight of you flustered, barely keeping up with what’s happening right in front of your face. His heart skips a beat more than twice in the span of a few seconds.

“I’m proposing.”

The words seem so absurd that you half expect him to break the tension with a quick joke, but he doesn’t. His gaze is glued to you, his words as serious as they can be. You don’t know what to say, don’t know how to react. Your mind is frozen.

“What the fuck, Will?”

Will grins at that and shakes his head as if he’d expected your reaction to be no different. He keeps his stance, one knee on the floor, as he stares at you affectionately—with so much love you’re surprised he doesn’t explode from it. The man is enjoying your confusion and the fact that he managed to pull it out of you. He’s not ashamed to admit it, either.

“That’s the kind of reaction I was hoping for,” he says quietly and in a matter of time, his hand is on your thigh, tracing invisible circles on the soft fabric of your pajama pants. “You were always going to say no for the first time.”

You blink at him, trying to coax out words from within you, but you don’t find any. That only makes you even more confused, and your expression turns to a frown. Is he really… asking you to marry him?

“I know, I’m quite the romantic.” He pauses, trying to stifle his chuckle. “Do you want me to ask you the usual way?”

“Will, are you serious?” you ask, your voice so gentle the words barely sound like they’re yours. Will only nods his head. “I don’t want you to ask at all. I want us to get married as soon as possible.”

He reaches down to grab your hands in his. “I never believed in marriage. I’m not sure if I do now either,” he admits awkwardly, playing with your fingers. “But I really want to hear people call you Mrs. Graham.”

Your heart jumps as he speaks as if you’d been waiting for him to admit those words for years. The words sink in slowly and your eyes become distant, as if you’d been taken back in time. A warm feeling spreads across your chest like you just swallowed a whole bottle of wine in one ginormous gulp.

“You know I can’t say no.” Your words are quiet and soft. He pulls you down onto his lap, his hands still around your fingers as he brings them to his chest. “Can I call you mine too?”

“Always,” Will replies, his voice low and quiet, but full of love and emotion. “It’s been you all along.”

A soft smile rests on your face as you look down at him. Your head is right above his, but you decide to close the tiny distance between you by leaning forward and pressing your lips against his. You feel your heart race as you do so.

“Did you come up with this to distract me?” Your voice is playful, but the air around you is thick and humid.

Will leans forward and wraps his arms snugly around your waist, hugging you tight. Your fingers play with his curls, his head back on your chest. The whole weight of him hangs onto you like all the sins in the world, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Maybe,” he replies, a smile tugging at his lips, even though he seems serious.

You can feel his body shift, and suddenly Will presses you firmly against the growing hardness inside his jeans. The whimper that pushes past your lips as you feel it through the thin layer of your pajama pants is downright desperate. You both can’t hide the fact that your breaths are becoming more irregular, muscles tensing under each other’s hands.

“I like being distracted like this,” you whisper, your nose nuzzling against his temple.

A low growl comes from the man’s chest. You’re close enough to the source of the sound to feel the vibration against your body. He presses his face to your neck, taking in the scent of your skin like he’s oxygen-deprived.

“Should I distract you too, Will?” you ask him quietly, tugging at his tousled hair.

“You’ve done enough, dear. I’m already distracted.” His voice is soft, and his words catch in his throat. Will doesn’t seem to have a single rational thought going through his head. It’s like all he can process is his need for you, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say this was a spell cast on him. “I want you.” His hand moves to your hip, and he presses into you harder, your breath catching in your throat. “Please.”

And who are you to deny him of anything his soul could ever want or need? You don’t wait for more encouragement as your fingers start working on hastily unbuttoning his shirt. They trace the smooth lines of his chest, the scars that mark his skin, and every little detail of him—every part of his history that he once saw as a defect. It’s not. It’s who he is, who he’s always been—his past is a part of what made him the Will you know and love.

Your fingers slowly make their way down to his belt and unclasp it too in one go. You graze over his hardness on accident, already feeling its heat through the thin layer. You let out a whimper and your whole brain starts to short-circuit.

“Slowly.” Will’s voice is hoarse and raw, his fingers digging deeply into the skin of your hip. “I want to see you.”

The man doesn’t waste any time in waiting for your reaction as his hand moves up to your face. His touch is gentle as it pushes back your hair, his fingertips rubbing against the skin behind your ear before they start pursuing the shape of your neck—every muscle and tendon.

“Slowly,” he repeats, and you can’t help but groan.

Nevertheless, you obey, letting your hands explore every surface of his flesh again like he’s the perfect puzzle that you need to solve. His own mirror yours, sliding below the thin layer of your t-shirt, grazing over your navel, and pushing upwards.

Every move you make leaves its mark, causing his body to tremble even more. His breath becomes so uneven, you think he might fall apart at any moment. The mere sound sends shivers down your spine.

“Yes, like that,” he mumbles, and his lips are right next to your ear as he whispers these words. His hand moves again and starts to tug at your shirt.

You help him remove it in one go, left in only your plaid pajama bottoms. Will’s touch is familiar, one you could never forget—not like the dozen strangers through the past few years, you never even remembered their faces come tomorrow morning. But his touch sets you ablaze—burns and soothes at the same time, it’s unforgettable.

Will reaches up to pull your head against his so that you’re staring straight at one another. His touch is gentle, but there’s an intensity to it that you can’t mistake. His lips slowly approach yours with such an intense need that you can read it in his gaze. Even though he doesn’t say it, you feel that this kiss is more than just desire—it’s a need to be as close to you as possible, to never let you go again. His tongue delves inside your mouth, and you sigh into it.

The feeling of your skin pressed against his leaves Will desperate, his mind so overwhelmed and in a haze, he can’t even form the words to describe the sensation. His hand keeps moving as if your flesh were an addiction. The sound that leaves from his throat is something so close to a purr—he’s almost embarrassed.

You feel his body tensing, his muscles flexing against yours, and your skin feels hot and all too sensitive. He’s taking advantage of this moment to touch you anywhere he can reach. His fingers leave no inch of your skin unexplored as he slowly begins to lower your pajama bottoms.

“God, you’re beautiful.” The sound of your voice draws Will’s eyes closed as he inhales deeply.

Will’s fingers glide down toward your legs, and he looks as if all his dreams are coming true at once. You see his eyes flicker open, and he looks at you with such intensity, such concentration, that it’s hard to breathe as you’re pulled along by an invisible force. He finally lets go of your chin so that he can drag your pajamas down further until they’re thrown across the room.

You take his hands in yours, placing them over your breasts. And it’s only when his teeth drag across your neck, from just above your collarbone down to the crook of your shoulder, that he loses it completely.

There’s no being slow or gentle when he pushes you away, standing up and pulling you to your feet. You take hurried steps back as he nudges you toward the bed. Soon enough, your calves hit the mattress and you fall back onto the blue duvet. You don’t even have a chance to take a breath, Will is hovering over you, elbows on each side of your head.

“You’re gorgeous,” he mumbles, looking deep into your eyes—so deep you’re afraid he can see the broken soul behind them.

You help him push his jeans and boxers down the length of his legs. The second they’re no longer an obstacle, Will’s fingers delve between your thighs, circling your clit teasingly with the gentlest of touches. Your lips part in a gasp, hands falling onto the covers to clench them in your fists.

“Will, please,” you plead between whimpers. He was the only one who could ever bring you to the point of begging, and you hope he knows it somewhere deep within.

The man faces you with glassy eyes, swiping the tip of his tongue over his bottom lips. He doesn’t need you to say anything more, he just nods feverishly and lets your fingers guide him inside. The sensation of your heat gripping him tightly makes him groan, lips falling agape. You wrap your legs around his hips, crossing them behind his back, and pull him even closer.

“Will,” you moan his name against his lips.

It spurs him on, makes him even more eager to please you. He draws back almost completely, then buries himself inside you again in one smooth motion. Your thighs tremble visibly, and it almost makes him smile. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him deeply, fingers tugging on his curls.

Will rocks into you deep and steady, one of his hands digging into the meat of your thigh with so much force it hurts—but goddamn, you love this kind of pain. And he makes it feel even more heavenly when his thumb begins to trace circles over your clit.

It doesn’t take him long to take you over the edge—hard and fast—turning you into a mindless, hot, whimpering mess. You mumble his name over and over again as your heat pulses around his length, making him come just a few moments after you. He claims your mouth with his, making you taste your name on his lips. God, does it taste heavenly.

Night came quicker than you realized, covering the sky with bright stars and a full moon. Despite it, it’s not pitch black outside. The shimmering snow reflects the shining lights, fighting off the darkness well enough. It doesn’t make you feel any less threatened, even though it should.

You’re wrapped only in the blue duvet that covered the bed, as you lie on your side, facing Will, who’s already asleep. His bare thigh is right against yours, and the heat of his skin is almost impossible to resist. You let your eyes wander across his body, his physique—he looks like a sculpture, a masterpiece of flesh and bone.

Your body still aches from his touch, and you feel like you’re a puddle of emotions with the sole mission of holding love, affection, and desire for him. You’re about as far away from being “fine” as possible. You didn’t even get a chance to tell him you’ll be working together from now on. He doesn’t know he’s allowed back in BAU, and you wonder if you should leave him unknowing for as long as possible. It’s not your greatest idea, but the idea of him breaking beyond repair terrifies you.

You try to calm your heart as it races and skips a beat every time his body shifts—the smallest movement seems like it could wake him up. But as you lie there in the darkness, his hand reaches out and finds its rightful place on your thigh again, his fingers barely grazing your skin. The sensation makes you almost jump out of your skin, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Why are you awake?” he asks with half-closed eyes.

“Can’t sleep,” you reply softly, wanting to touch him back, but not sure if you should.

“I figured,” he murmurs. “You didn’t sleep much yesterday either.”

You sigh sadly, you didn’t think he’d noticed. His hand moves up your thigh, almost instinctively, until it touches you just below your hip. It stops there, and your eyelashes flutter at its warmth against your skin.

“You can touch me.” Will’s voice is so quiet it’s almost inaudible, and you don’t have to be told twice.

Your fingers slip under the duvet, so the fabric doesn’t block your touch, and you begin to trace the outline of his leg with the tips of your fingers. Will’s eyes finally open, and he looks almost nervous at the intimate touch—until you find the spot where he’s ticklish. He lets out an adorable whimper, so naturally, you laugh and keep going.

“No, no, please stop,” Will moans, trying to fight back his chuckles, squirming as he tries to get away from your touch. The whole time he’s half-smiling, his fingers digging into the duvet for stability. He tries to grab your hands, but it only makes you laugh harder.

You find another ticklish spot on the side of his torso and continue to tease him. Eventually, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much as you watch Will scoot back, out of your reach. Your sour mood from before is gone in an instant.

Will moves up so that he’s sitting up against the wall, practically on the edge of the bed, and he looks almost offended by your reaction. Your gaze shifts, so you can get a fuller view of him.

“I’m not as ticklish as you think,” he says, his tone serious, though you can still hear a tremble in his voice. “If you wanted to see me squirm,” he adds, “you could’ve found a different method.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, and you immediately pull the sheets up to cover the bottom part of your face, trying to hide your flustered reaction from his eyes.

“You’re so cute,” he says, his voice just a whisper, almost as if he was afraid that anything above a murmur could wake the dogs sleeping by the fireplace. “So adorable.”

Will’s hand rests on your head, his fingers playing with the strands of hair that cover your ears. You can feel him studying you—how your nose twitches and your eyes almost close as you wait for his next words. Something about it feels intimate as if he’s taking in every detail of your expression one by one. It’s been a while since he’s done that, you didn’t even realize how much you missed it.

“You can pull it down, you know,” he says playfully, his hand still in your hair. “This must be suffocating.”

“I know,” you say quietly, as you pull the sheets down from your face.

Will’s fingers interlace with yours, and you can feel his thumb circling your wrist.

“And yes, it is a bit suffocating.” You pull the sheets down to your collarbones, and a chill runs through your body as the cold air touches your arms. “Maybe you can warm me up.”

Will smiles—a small, sweet smile, with a bit of mischief thrown in. “Maybe I can,” his tone is playful as he pulls you close, your cheek finding a home on his chest, right above his heart.

After a few long minutes of silence and listening to the steady drum of his heartbeat, you turn to face him, resting your chin above his pec.

“We’re back on the team, you know?” you mumble almost mindlessly.

Will looks down at you, his expression gentle as he caresses your hair.

“I know.”

His gaze trails down your face and lingers on your lips for a brief moment before it shifts again. There are so many things Will wants to say, but he can’t bring himself to do it—he fears it would ruin these quiet, peaceful moments between you two.

You don’t question how he already knows that, choosing instead to voice your other thoughts—ones that’ve been on your mind almost the whole day. “What did Alana want from you?”

Will’s hand pauses against your face when you bring up her name, and for a moment he seems speechless, which is rare a thing for him.

“I…” He trails off but then speaks again as if he’s found the courage to say the words. “Alana wants me to stay away from Hannibal,” he says quietly, his fingers moving on your cheeks, your brows, your chin, as if his hand isn’t allowed to stay still for a second without touching the flesh it can. “She’s sleeping with him.”

“Why does she want you to stay away?”

“Because I tried to kill him.”

You don’t even blink at his confession, there’s no fear in your gaze—no ounce of surprise. There was a time in your life when this revelation would’ve shocked you, broken you in half, but after your father’s death, when you’re faced with it, it’s… easy to handle. Will expected this kind of indifference, he knew you well enough to know you wouldn’t judge nor be afraid.

“How?”

Will lets your question hang in the air for a long minute before he speaks. He takes a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts.

“Not by my hand—not like that,” he starts. “Hannibal has a lot of… a lot of hold over me,” he pauses again, “he made me want to do it.” It’s probably the most vulnerable, the most genuine explanation Will has given anyone. He’s speaking to you from the heart and in pure honesty. “An opportunity fell on my lap to send someone after him, so I took it.”

You nod your head in acknowledgment—it makes sense to you. “It’s a shame it didn’t work out.”

A hint of a smile appears on Will’s face. He moves his fingers to the nape of your neck and to caress the lines of your ear—it’s something he always used to do when he was thinking and you were nearby. “Alana’s very upset with me.”

Will’s other hand slides over your thigh, his fingers teasing the skin, almost as if he was trying to test it, like a cat with a piece of string. He’s still thinking when his hand starts to move upwards, closer to your hip.

“Don’t take it to heart,” you advise him, leaving a soothing peck on his jaw. It was the best you could do.

“I’m trying.” He laughs in a low rumble, his hand moving between your legs and your whole body tenses. “I’m trying,” he says again.

The touch is so soft and gentle—almost teasing, yet your body seems to be craving it. It makes him nervous, but also excited, and when he closes his eyes his head just falls back to rest against the wall, his teeth showing as he breathes in deeply.

“Would you have done this if I…” his words trail off into silence as the man doesn’t seem certain about how to finish his sentence. He looks at you, his face revealing all the questions that he doesn’t dare to ask.

You grasp his jaw between your hands, encouraging him to speak his mind, but being unconditionally patient at the same time. He tries to say something again, then changes his mind. It’s as if he’s playing a constant game with you, trying to reach into your mind without opening his mouth like most people do.

“If you…”

“If I was still the same,” he mumbles out finally.

“Will, you are still the same person. Perhaps a little more broken than before, but it’s still you.”

Will stays silent and still for a minute with his eyes closed, his hand still between your legs. The tips of his fingers keep barely touching you, almost a caress, although a bit harsher than before. His lids flutter open, so you can see his face as it’s lit by the moonlight.

“There’s something I’d like you to promise,” he says cautiously as if every word is carefully thought out before he speaks it aloud. “Promise me that you’ll keep trusting in me... even if you don’t understand.”

Will’s hand moves up from between your legs so that he can touch your waist and hold you in place. The fingers of his other hand stroke your face down to the side of your neck, and you can feel how your heart starts to beat faster and faster with each touch.

“I will always trust you, Will. Just never lie to me again, have a little faith in me too.”

Will lets his eyes fall down to your lips again, and he can’t help but bite his own in response. As if he was trying to hold himself together but the urge to kiss you was almost too strong, the way his gaze kept shifting.

When his lips touch yours—it’s a long, slow kiss, deep and gentle at the same time. He holds you in place, your hips pressed against his as if he doesn’t want you to move, even a centimeter. And you don’t dream of being anywhere else but here—by his side.

“I love you, Will.”

#eat your heart out #smut #mdni #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal nbc #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham #hannibal lecter x will graham #hannibal lecter #hannibal #hannigram #will graham x reader #will graham x hannibal lecter #will graham

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inlovewithquestionablecharacters · 7 months ago

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Hi!, Could you do a Hannibal x reader fic where Hannibal is the obsessed teacher, until one day they went beyond just looking at each other and he asked him to stay after class to talk about "things", they talk for a while, until Hannibal ask if she have a bf or something, he get up and tell her that also notices how she looks him... (Can it also end with smut? If you're comfortable whit) And Hannibal could also be a little annoying? like he know she needs him then he feels good whit.

(I'm not proud of this but... I need it)

And my apologies my english isn't great

a/n: i think we all need it if we're being honest

Hannibal X Reader: Teachers Pet

Warnings: smut, teacher!Hannibal x Student! reader, penetration (p in v), Hannibal being a tease, domish Hannibal, pet names (pretty girl), dirty talk, liking older men, age gap (no specified), no use of y/n

Word count: 1,4K

Someone is talking but he isn’t looking at them. He’s looking at you. Actually he is always looking at you. It doesn't matter if someone else asked him a question or if he's lecturing, his eyes are always on you. You don’t mind it. Actually you enjoy it quite a bit because your eyes are always on him too. Maybe it's wrong to want him like this but you really can’t get yourself to care. It's not like you're actively doing something to fulfill your little fantasy. They are just meaningless glances, nothing more.

Except that they weren’t and you both knew it.

Months of stolen glances and lingering touches. Hannibal can’t take it anymore. He’ll go insane if he doesn't have you. So he asked you to stay after class. He used some excuse about your last paper, saying he wanted to talk to you about your grades and whatnot. It was a lie of course and you could tell.

“Is something wrong professor?’

You’re acting innocent, trying to figure out how far he’d willing to go with this charade.

“I wanted to talk about your grades. I’ve noticed they’ve been slipping recently. Did something happen recently?”

He pauses his eyes peeking up at you through his glasses.

“A new boyfriend distracting you from your studies perhaps?”

“No. No boyfriend.”

Hannibal hums, his eyes moving to glance at the papers on his desk. You place your palms on the edge of the table leaning forward so that you could look at the papers too.

“You’re a good student. What happened?”

“Well you could say something has been distracting me lately.”

Hannibal lifts his gaze, his eyes catching on your chest. The blouse you’re wearing isn't doing much to hide the bra you're wearing, the whitline of it is clear through the almost sheer fabric of your shirt.

“But not a boyfriend?”

You shake your head no your eyes looking at Hannibal innocently. It's a fake expression of course. You knew exactly what you were doing.

“In all honesty, professor , I shouldn't even be looking at him but I can't help it. He is very handsome.”

Hannibal's eyebrow quirk up.

“It's that so?”

“Uhum. He’s a little older too. I’ve always had a thing for older guys.”

“Have you told him?”

“No but he knows. I caught him looking at me too.”

There it is. The opening Hannibal was looking for. He gets up from his seat taking off his glasses and placing them on the desk before moving to where you are. You turn around your ass coming into contact with the desk behind you as Hannibal moves close to you. You tilt your head to look up at him. He still hasn’t touched you but you're practically buzzing with desire.

“You can’t blame him. You’re a very pretty girl.”

Hannibal's hand reaches out to cup your cheek, his thumb moving over your lips. You open your mouth to him, taking his digits in between your lips. Hannibal bits his lips as you suck on his thumb, the sight enough to make his pants tighten. You release his thumb with a ‘pop’.

“I need you, professor.”

Hannibal let out a groan, his body launching forward. His lips move roughly against yours. He plunges his tongue into your mouth and you let him a whine leaving your lips. His hands move to grope your ass. You cling to his shirt as he lifts your body onto the desk. His body sloths against your with ease, his dick rubbing against your clothed cunt as he moves. You moan for him, your hands moving to unbutton your blouse. Hannibal stares at your chest, eyes widening as your bra is finally revealed to him. Before you can even react he’s tugging the bra down, his lips wrapping around your left breast. You throw your head back, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you frantically buck up into him. Hannibal's hand moved to your waist forcing your hips to stop moving.

“Patience. You’ll get what you want soon.”

“Please Hannibal. I need you so bad.”

“Show me.”

You lift your hips, removing your underwear. You dip your hands into your pussy collecting the witness that's gathered there. You lift your hand up to Hannibal showing him your juices. He hums pleasantly at the sight, his pants growing tighter. He moved forward engulfing your digits with his mouth. Your mouth opens in shock as you watch him lick your fingers clean. All of his self control seems to leave him, the need to feel you wrapped around him getting to his mind. He moves away from you fingers moving to remove his belt and pull down his zipper. You lean forward on his desk watching him. Hannibal senses your gaze on him, his hands pausing for a moment. He makes his way back to you, guiding your hand to his boxers. You gasp as you feel the outline of his dick against your palm.

“Take it out for me, pretty girl.”

You do as he asks your hands moving inside his boxers to free his dick from his confines. You gasp as you feel the weight of his dick in your hand. He was larger than you had expected. You give him a stroke, your thumb moving over his head, collecting the pre cum there. Hannibal's watches you guide your thumb to your mouth, licking the pre cum off it with a smile.

That was his breaking point.

You squeal as Hannibal drags you off the desk, your ass squeaking against the wood at the rough movement. He turns you around, his hand moving to push you against his desk. Your nails dig into the desk as he begins to enter you. A moan threatens to spill from your lips but Hannibal shushes you.

“Gotta be quiet. You don’t want anyone to hear us right?”

You clench around his dick at the thought of getting caught making him smile.

“Dirty thing.”

Before you can manage a smart remark Hannibal plunges his dick into you causing your voice to leave you. Your bare breasts rub against the desk beneath you as Hannibal roughly snapped his hips into you. You want to scream but you know you can’t so instead you bite into your hand. Hannibal’s moving so fast against you you're surprised the desk hasn’t moved from its spot.

“Professor I'm close…”

His movements slowed causing you to let out an annoyed grunt.

“Why did you stop?”

Hannibal pulled out of your turning your body so that you were facing him. You look up at him eagerly. His fingers cup your cheek roughly.

“You wanna cum is that it?”

“Yes.”

“Beg for it then.”

“Please make me cum Hannibal. Please, I need it so bad!”

“Lay down on the desk and spread your legs. Wanna see that pretty face as you cum.”

You move quickly, hopping onto the desk and laying down. You place your feet against the edge of the desk giving a clear view of your folds.

“Look at that. Just begging to be fucked aren’t you?”

You nod eagerly at him.

“Use your words.”

“Yes professor. Please fuck me.”

He moved forwards entering you again. Despite his desire to tease you Hannibal couldn’t hold on for much longer. His hips move roughly against you pistoling into your pussy at a brutal pace. All you can do is lie there and take it, the pleasure is too much to cope with. You barely register your orgasm until Hannibal spills his seed into you, his fingers digging into your thighs as he lets your cunt milk him.

He pulls out of you with a grunt, his hands moving to stuff his soft dick back into his pants. You continue to lay on the desk, far too tired to move. Hannibal makes his way to you tugging your body up. You let him carry you down. Your feet hit the floor, legs wobbling a bit as you try to stand. Hannibal pulled your bra back to its original position before his hands moved to button your shirt. You stare up at him, trying to regain full control of your mind. He places his hands on your cheek smiling at you. You give him a tired grin. You watch him move over to where you threw your underwear. He grabbed it, showing it to you before putting it into his back pocket.

“A small souvenir. I’ll return it to you next time.”

“Next time?”

“Yes next time. Now get out of here, I have things to do.”

You make your way to the door feeling Hannibal's cum drip down your thighs as you make your way to your car.

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saltywinteradult · 4 months ago

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How is Dany is abusive to Jon?

Honest question, I’ve never given it a thought

I'm sorry this took me so long, anon, and I am really sorry for how long this post got. I had a lot of thoughts on this.

Before we begin, I'd like to point you to this compilation of Jon's reactions to Dany, which hardly paints a picture of a man who is happy and in love, as well as this post and this gifset, both pointing out the parallels between Jon's relationship with Dany and Sansa's relationship with Littlefinger, the latter being a relationship I hope most people can agree is abusive.

It's absolutely crucial to remember that in this relationship, Dany is the person with the power. She is the one with the dragons and the biggest army, and she is willing to both use and abuse that power to get her way.

Furthermore, Dany wants the North's loyalty, but the North needs her help. (The fact that it's Dany's duty as well as in her own best interest to help fight the Others is a different discussion; she doesn't seem to understand this anyway.) She has agreed to grant that help, but she could easily withdraw it if she chooses. She has more power than literally anyone else and there's simply no escaping that power imbalance - it permeates every single interaction Dany has with Jon and all the other Northerners for all of s7 and the first half of s8.

I want you to remember how Dany treats Jon on Dragonstone. His weapons and his boat are taken away immediately upon his arrival. She says Jon is "not yet" her prisoner, but 1) that line very clearly implies that she could make him her prisoner if she chooses to, and 2) how much does it really matter that Jon is "not yet" her prisoner when she's already taken away his means of defending himself or leaving the island? Remember how she later tells him "I haven't given you permission to leave." Girl, what happened to Jon not being your prisoner?

I think it's also very telling that Dany never once addresses Jon by his proper title of King in the North, even before he bends the knee. As you may recall, Dany cares a great deal about titles. She never grants Jon the same respect she demands for herself, and she likes to remind Jon that she is his Queen even during a supposedly intimate, romantic scene.

(Gif by yocalio via gameofthronesdaily)

Earlier in this scene, Dany pointed out that they could stay here in this secluded spot, away from the kingdom and its politics, and no one would find them. Yet even here, away from the rest of the world, she makes a point of referring to herself as "your Queen".

I point all of this out to illustrate that from the very beginning and throughout their relationship, Dany views Jon as a subordinate, not an equal. That is very much not a good foundation for a healthy and equal romantic relationship. Her constant expectation is that Jon will submit, obey, give things up to benefit her, and ensure that the people he has power over act the way she wants.

Case in point:

"Your sister doesn't like me. [...] She doesn't need to be my friend, but I am her Queen. If she can't respect me..."

The implication is that Sansa is doing something wrong by not liking or respecting Dany (meaning "not acting deferential enough for Dany's taste"). The fact that Dany is saying this to Jon and not to Sansa herself implies that it's Jon's responsibility to ensure that Sansa behaves acceptably. "If she can't respect me..." Then what? What exactly is she implying will be the consequences? That their romantic relationship will end? Something worse?

At this point, the North has bent the knee to Dany. As their monarch this is not an entirely unreasonable thing to ask of her subjects - but it's not a very reasonable thing for a girlfriend to ask of her boyfriend, is it? The line between Jon and Dany's political relationship as monarch and subject and their personal relationship as girlfriend and boyfriend isn't just blurred, it's practically nonexistent. To state the obvious, there is a reason we decided that absolute monarchies are bad here in the real world. There is also a reason why a boss dating a subordinate is frowned upon in the real world. Big power imbalances are a bad idea in general and in romantic relationships especially. They should at the very least be considered and navigated carefully. Dany not only fails to do so; she is only happy with her and Jon's relationship when she has power over him.

For proof, let's look at how she reacts when that power imbalance is upended by the revelation of Jon's true identity:

youtube

This revelation is a bombshell for Jon. Everything he thought he knew about his own origins turns out to be untrue. However, Dany's first and only thought is how this affects her. Her first reaction is denial and scepticism; the second is to turn cold as soon as she realises that this makes Jon a threat to her ambitions.

There's also this line:

"A secret no one in the world knew, except your brother and your best friend. Doesn't seem strange to you?"

Which implies... What, exactly? That Sam and Bran made this up? Why? Just like with Sansa in the previous scene, we see Dany questioning the actions and intentions of Jon's loved ones. Remember that.

Things escalate in episode 4:

youtube

Dany is faced with the notion that Jon might hold more political power than she thought, that they might actually be on somewhat equal footing, and this makes her unhappy.

"I want it to be the way it was between us."

Her desire is to continue their sexual relationship and to return to the previous status quo where she held more power than him and therefore didn't consider him a threat. Jon having a stronger claim to the throne than her threatens Dany's sense of her own identity and purpose, and she reacts by trying to deny and suppress this reality:

"You can say nothing, to anyone, ever! Swear your brother and Samwell Tarly to secrecy and tell no one else! Or it will take on a life of its own and you won't be able to control it or what it does to people!"

(Imagine this with the genders reversed. Yikes.)

Dany is demanding Jon keep his own identity secret from his own family. That's not a reasonable thing to ask of a person you love. Not for one second does she show any consideration for how Jon might feel or what Jon might want. It's all about her. Her expectation is that Jon suppress his own identity, his own reality, to benefit Dany's ambitions. Never once does it seem to occur to Dany that what Jon does with this secret is up to him to decide, not her. His agency is of no concern to her.

Jon: I have to tell Sansa and Arya. Dany: Sansa will want to see me gone and you on the Iron Throne. [...] She's not the girl you grew up with. Not after what she's seen, not after what they've done to her. [...] Jon: They're my family. We can live together. Dany: We can. I've just told you how.

Here we are again with Dany questioning the motives and agendas of Jon's loved ones. Now she's no longer implying but outright stating that they're working against her. What we have here is a pattern of Dany implying that Jon's loved ones are up to no good and can't be trusted. I don't need to explain why that is a dangerous and manipulative thing to do to one's partner, right?

I also want you to pay extra attention to how Emilia delivers that final line. Throughout the whole scene Dany is distraught and desperate, but at this point she turns cold and closed off with an unmistakable anger that Jon won't agree to do as she demands. It is very hard not to read a threatening undertone into that line. "Keep it secret, or else."

Before we move on to episode 5, I'd like to highlight this line, spoken by Dany to Tyrion and Varys in episode 4:

"Speaking to Cersei will not prevent a slaughter. But perhaps it's good the people see that Daenerys Stormborn made every effort to avoid bloodshed, and Cersei Lannister refused. They should know whom to blame when the sky falls down upon them."

Let's be clear on one thing here: Cersei could choose to back down and surrender to avoid bloodshed - but, and I cannot stress this enough, so could Dany. Cersei and Dany are both being selfish and power-hungry by refusing to give up the throne in order to avoid bloodshed. But to admit that would ruin Dany's deeply rooted self-image as morally superior to her enemies. So what does she do instead? She deflects blame. She's the one with the dragons, but if she makes the sky fall down on people, as she puts it, it's not her fault. Keep that in mind.

Now for the absolute low point:

youtube

"What did I say would happen if you told your sister? [...] She betrayed your trust. She killed Varys as much as I did. This was a victory for her. Now she knows what happens when people hear the truth about you."

Okay. Varys was conspiring against Dany, which he could've chosen not to do; I guess Dany was within her rights to punish him. She still could've chosen to imprison him, or at least give him a trial. Nobody made her kill him. But as we've just seen, Dany doesn't like to accept responsibility for her own decisions. She'd rather deflect the blame onto the people who displease her.

What's more, she's not just blaming Sansa for Varys's death but Jon as well, for telling Sansa the secret in the first place - which Jon was well within his rights to do! He never agreed not to tell anyone. That wasn't up to Dany to decide in the first place. Jon did what he wanted to do and not what she wanted him to do, so now everything Dany does as a result of Jon's actions is Jon's fault? Do I even need to explain how shitty this is?

"Far more people in Westeros love you than love me. I don't have love here. I only have fear."

This is entirely true. She never stops to think about why Jon is more beloved in Westeros than she is, but whatever. What's important is that after this, Dany initiates a kiss and Jon rebuffs her.

(Gifs from snowsource)

"Alright then. Let it be fear."

Again, what exactly do we think she's implying here? Remember the context. During this conversation, Jon already told her "you will always be my queen". He hasn't rejected her as his queen (which at this point he damn well should), he's just rejecting her sexual advances. And yet, Dany's reaction to his personal rejection of her is to embrace "fear", which again refers to how all of Westeros sees her, not just Jon. Dany already deflected blame for her previous actions onto people who displeased her including Jon, and now she's deflecting the blame for her future actions in the same way. And we all know what she did after this, don't we? I don't know how the line "let it be fear" can mean anything other than "you rejected me and that's why I'm going to embrace being feared, so whatever I do now in the name of being feared is really your fault. Look what you made me do." If that isn't abuse, I don't know what is.

#anti jonerys #anti-jonerys #anti daenerys targaryen #anti daenerys #anti-daenerys #jon snow #game of thrones #got #asoiaf #abuse tw #emotional abuse tw

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howlsofbloodhounds · 26 days ago

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tell me, certified killer mutual, what your pet peeves are in killer ships and what you like in them/how to make them good……

you are my something new encyclopedia at this point and as a kross/krepic lover i must ask what i need to keep in mind to make things balanced and good…. because killer is grossly ignored in ships involving him!!!

oftentimes he is treated like something used to forward the plot or focus on other characters and often do not focus on him (with the exception of colorkiller) like they should. i don’t try to do that exactly but you know a lot bout him and id really appreciate and enjoy tips on writing him in a relationship in a way that’s tasteful and good for his character :3

Oh i haven’t really thought all the pet peeves through, besides the idea that I want it be earned and I want Killer to be his own complex individual. So I’ll just want take this opportunity to rant about some thoughts I’ve had about Killer and relationships in general, mostly in Stage 2 as that is often the Stage people will meet him in. This isn’t meant to be a definitive be all of “you have to do this” or anything, just thoughts.

First thing would probably be that Killer doesn’t choose partners based strictly on attraction or feelings, not in Stage 2.

If there’s a benefit in being in a romantic relationship with someone and there doesn’t seem to be an alternative to gaining that outcome—such as access to someone’s soul, for example, and he’s really interested in their soul for a particular reason—he’d probably be willing to engage in a romantic relationship if that seems to be the only way to get what he needs and fulfill his goals.

He’s not romantically or sexually interested in this person, going through the motions of a relationship without much emotional investment in this case. It may be different if he gets involved in a relationship out of an impulsive curiosity or drive for something new, out of a sense of boredom or a distraction.

If the partner isn’t pursuing this relationship first, they may start feeling used or that there’s some other motive going on here; perhaps even a sense of being preyed on (not like that, ya know, and likely not with malicious or cruel intent, even if the partner doesn’t realize that.)

Killer views relationships as a form of power dynamics: “control or be controlled.”

He could enter a relationship to avoid being controlled by someone he perceives as a threat or authority. Becoming docile or compliant could be a survival strategy, especially if he believes the person has influence over him (like the Player, Nightmare, or another powerful figure). Fawn response is likely.

Conversely, he might pursue a relationship with someone weaker or more dependent, feeling safer when he holds the perceived upper hand. (Less likely, as he’d probably prefer to avoid relationships entirely if there’s no need or reason to be in one that he can see.)

(Safer as in he genuinely fears what’ll happen to him if he loses this control, what they’ll do to him and his mind. He’s not hiding behind power or control for power and controls sake, but because he believes that’s the only way to maintain even a sliver of freedom or agency—and he��d be pretty ruthless to maintain this, given how he treats Swap.

Examples such as pushing him to try and “feel again” or triggering Stage 1 in jarring, upsetting, and traumatic ways.)

He’s drawn into a relationship for tangible or strategic benefits (e.g., protection, access to resources, fulfilling a mission, and not consciously, validation and acknowledgment—even if through the means of masochism or sadism directed at him or towards him.)

Emotional connections are not a motivating factor unless he becomes attached, and even then, his apathy often masks deeper feelings.

Though he is emotionally detached, Killer might engage in relationships to fill a void, especially if the other person makes him feel “seen” or real.

The Player’s influence looms large in Killer’s life. He would act in a way that aligns with what he believes the Player wants, which could include romantic relationships.

If he sees the Player as controlling his choices or wanting him to do something, he may either accept this control passively or react with aggression if he feels threatened.

His actions in relationships could often be influenced by what he believes the Player would approve of.

His programming under could make him believe he should be in relationships if ordered to or if it aligns with the mission or goals. He may also mirror what others expect or desire, using charm to manipulate or deflect.

(Such in Bad Sanses AUs, utilizing attachments and emotions to perform his duties as Nightmare’s Right Hand and keep subordinates loyal and attached, therefore less likely to leave, therefore less likely for Killer to be punished or deemed useless.)

When in relationships where he’s not attached to his partner(s), he would maintain his extroverted, silly facade, using humor and charm to deflect scrutiny. Any signs of vulnerability would be carefully masked.

These relationships would serve a purpose. He would observe and exploit the other person’s weaknesses or desires to gain control or minimize threats.

Killer would remain emotionally distant, treating the relationship as a transaction or game to maintain his apathy and avoid deeper connections.

If the other person has power over him (or he believes they do), he might appear docile or submissive, following their lead to avoid punishment or conflict outwardly while subtly trying to regain small moments of control or even just express resentment through passive aggression.

If he is attached, it would confuse Killer, as it clashes with his belief in the futility of emotional connections. He might deny or suppress feelings, fearing they make him vulnerable and will be used to further control him and use him.

While he may not admit it, attachment could manifest in small, unconscious gestures, such as taking care of the person’s needs, (similar to how he cares for stray cats) and acts of service (often rather extreme).

He’d likely find it extremely hard to accept care from others, because it causes such confusion and distress and conflicts with what he’s used to, and will make him feel unsafe —likely causing him to dissociate and derealize, unable to accept what’s happening as real or trust that it is, even if it feels good and comes to crave it.

Especially if this affection feels forced onto him, if he believes he can’t reject it or struggles to even realize that he doesn’t want it—which would likely subconsciously turn him off from asking for or seeking out affection from his partner(s), even if he passively accepts when they give him it to him or when they ask it from him. Like a cat, he wants affection on his own terms—even if he doesn’t realize he’s allowed to have terms or wants.

He feels threatened when approached first — either likely to throw his weight around through LV like a puffed up hissy cat like he did to Swap, or passively accept and resign himself to it if he feels like he can’t resist or that it’d be pointless to.

If the relationship becomes a rare source of validation or comfort, he would become possessive, or fear losing control, though he would mask these feelings with cynicism or humor.

Killer would likely push the other person away to avoid being controlled or hurt, especially if he feels the relationship challenges his emotional detachment or survival instincts. For him, emotions often do and (often were) dangerous and life threatening. This is how he’s been taught to view them.

Killer would likely approach relationships with a fatalistic mindset, believing they are ultimately meaningless and doomed. He might justify his involvement by thinking, “It’s just something to do.”

He is hyper-aware of power dynamics. If he feels controlled, he may resent the relationship but comply out of fear or habit. If he feels in control, he may feel safer but detached.

Emotional intimacy terrifies him, as it threatens the protective barrier of his apathy—and his in cases like with Color, his apathy and disconnect works against him when he struggles to connect emotionally even when he wants to, unable to tell if anything he felt or thought in Stage 1 was real or not. Any genuine feelings would provoke confusion, shame, or fear of exploitation or abuse, losing control, and dissociation.

Killer’s detachment from his identity as Sans makes him feel unworthy or incapable of genuine connection, reinforcing his apathy and cynicism.

When controlled or viewing it this way, Killer may become submissive or compliant, viewing the relationship as inevitable and something incapable of saying no or resisting against. He would use his facade to avoid punishment or suspicion while quietly assessing how to regain control.

When in control or viewing it that way, he would behave more confidently and playfully, seeing the relationship as a source of entertainment or advantage. However, his detachment would prevent him from fully engaging emotionally.

I’d say he needs to be needed—especially if there’s a perceived power dynamic regardless of attachment or not, as to him his usefulness dictates his right to continue existence and he can’t conceive being wanted for anything besides what he and his body can do and is able to handle.

If he thinks he needs someone for some reason, or in a case similar to Color—needs and wants someone—he’d adapt to whatever they seem to need or want from him.

In cases like Nightmare it’d be to the extent of what avoids inconvenience or being discarded and replaced because he thinks he needs Nightmare, in others where he needs something somethings from someone like their soul (as opposed to needing them) it’ll be until he can gain access to that soul.

In cases like Color (where Color is viewed as stronger than him), where there’s nothing Color seems to want from him and nothing Color seems to want to use him for and yet Color has put all this time and effort into him

anyhow and he thinks he needs (but also wants) Color—he gives Color reasons to keep him around.

if Color wants nothing more than a friend from him, then he’ll be the best friend he could ever have. And Color would never want anyone else.

He just has to figure out what the Hell being a friend means to Color..

He’s unlikely to agonize over things like “what if having these types of feelings ruin this type of relationship? Or what if doing or saying this makes it awkward?” the way he might in Stage 1.

This is where his possessiveness and terrortital (and honestly borderline obsessiveness with Color, even if he tries to hide it) tendencies come in.

He’s Color’s best friend because that’s what Color seems to want from him. Not because he cares about the concept of friendship on its own. To him, Color is his. He needs him, and wants him—although that last one may take the back seat a lot in comparison to what Color wants. He’ll be whatever makes Color keep him around.

With others he may view as friends—which he likely wouldn’t seek out himself without a functional purpose such curiosity, need, or convenience and would likely question the motives of anyone trying to approach him claiming to want to be friends—he’d keep a distance if they haven’t become something like what he with Color, wouldn’t expect much emotional depth and would likely have a general disinterest towards others if there’s nothing new about them enough to catch his attention.

He’d avoid emotional demands and would likely be highly uncomfortable with neediness from others or even resentful, even if he doesn’t express it outwardly—especially if he feels they’re trying to control him with their emotions and expectations, often leaving him feeling trapped in the relationship and with that the fear of basically being enslaved and subjugated.

He may crave validation and attention, but only in ways that don’t require him to open up or feel vulnerable—especially with those he doesn’t trust, feel safe with, or connected to.

He may classify those close to him as something like this; those he needs, those who serve a purpose in keeping him grounded or engaged, or those whose absence would leave a significant hole.

Basically, if anyone attempts to do anything like what Swap did (when’s he’s still under Nightmare, as opposed to another ending such as when he’s with Color)—regardless of their intentions—it’s likely to end very badly for them.

As in Killer would sooner beat them half to death to make them leave him alone and give up than allow anyone to have control over him again, or be forced to “feel again” or deal with the fear and pain of being forced into Stage 1 and all the memories and emotions associated with it. Of being weak.

And if they keep sticking around after he’s made it clear he doesn’t want them around him, shoving themselves into his life, he’d clearly take it as free reign to have some “fun” with them and assert control if they really want to be in his life and “help him” and “be his friend” so damn much. And he’d blame them for their own pain, as it’s “not his fault they are weak.”

I think Killer would need someone who can offer emotional stability and security. Given his detachment and fear of vulnerability, he craves someone who provides a sense of calm and reassurance. This person would need to be able to ground him, helping him feel less emotionally adrift and detached from reality.

Killer’s fear of abandonment and emotional numbness make him cling to consistency. He would need someone who is reliably present, offering him a sense of continuity and comfort. A partner who is emotionally available and can consistently demonstrate that they’re there for him would be highly valued, even if Killer doesn’t openly show it.

Killer’s trauma and emotional turmoil often lead him to believe that he’s fundamentally broken and unworthy. A partner who can accept him as he is, without pressuring him to change or revealing too much, would be essential. Killer needs someone who won’t push him to be someone else but will accept his detached, cynical persona and understand the deeper pain and reasons behind it.

He needs someone who understands that his behavior (detachment, cynicism, possessiveness, etc.) is rooted in his experiences and struggles and how he’s adapted to survive, not just a lack of care or an attempt to be “edgy” or manipulative.

This someone would need to refrain from judging his emotional barriers and instead offer gentle encouragement and space for Killer to process his feelings at his own pace.

Stage 2’s obsession with control extends to relationships. Killer might not necessarily want to dominate, but he would want to feel that he has some level of control over his emotional environment. He would need someone who respects his space and boundaries, but one who also allows him to feel like he’s not being controlled or manipulated.

However, the right person could earn his trust and have some control over the dynamics of the relationship, which would give Killer a sense of emotional and physical safety.

While Killer would need emotional connection, he might also need space to retain his autonomy. The ideal partner would understand this balance, not forcing Killer to open up more than he’s comfortable but still offering subtle guidance and understanding when necessary.

Killer’s apathy and emotional walls make him unlikely to ask for or express a need for affection in conventional ways. However, he would likely still need affection—though on his own terms.

Small, quiet acts of care (like a touch on the shoulder (with the understanding that he’s allowed to say no and have that respected), an offer of support, or even nonverbal understanding) would mean a lot to him, even if he doesn’t always know how to express that need.

Killer’s lack of self-worth makes him seek validation from others, but this is indirect. He needs someone who can show him that he’s worthy of care and connection, especially without forcing him to explicitly ask for it.

Through actions and small gestures, Killer’s partner(s) would help him feel that he matters, even if he struggles to believe it.

Given his tendency to suppress emotions and struggle to believe he even has them, Killer needs someone who gives him space to be emotionally closed off when necessary.

He needs someone who respects his boundaries, doesn’t force him to share his deepest thoughts, and understands that his need for space isn’t a rejection, but part of his emotional defense mechanism.

Killer needs someone who is patient with his slow emotional progress. His emotional walls are hard to break down, and he may not be able to communicate his feelings directly. A partner who respects his process and doesn’t rush him to be more vulnerable or open would be essential in helping him grow at his own pace.

Loyalty is a critical component for Killer. His emotional instability and fear of abandonment might cause him to fixate on people who are unwavering in their loyalty to him.

He needs someone who proves their loyalty through actions, remaining steadfast even when Killer’s detachment or emotional shutdown makes it hard for him to show affection in return.

Killer needs a partner who earns his trust over time, not rushing or demanding it but allowing him to grow comfortable with them. Trust for Killer would be hard-won and easily lost, and once it’s earned, he would cling to it, even if he doesn’t always express it.

Trust is one of the few things Killer would place high value on in a relationship, as it provides him with a sense of stability and safety.

Stage 2’s need for control manifests in wanting to maintain some level of power in the relationship, but he also needs to be guided gently by someone who understands his psychological needs.

While Killer may feel the need to hold control over situations, he also is secretly drawn to someone who has a subtle ability to influence him without overwhelming him.

His sadism and masochism. His history of being controlled by others might make him both crave and fear these dynamics in a relationship. He might feel drawn to a partner who subtly indulges or challenges these tendencies in ways that help him feel emotionally alive, but this would be something he might only recognize subconsciously.

Killer needs to feel seen or recognized as a person, not just an instrument to use or a threat or something not to be trusted.

His deep-seated fear of being overlooked or forgotten could make him crave someone who acknowledges his struggles, his desires, and his worth, even if he doesn’t explicitly ask for it. Being validated by a partner would be deeply important to Killer, even though he may hide this need under layers of indifference.

I could talk more about this, especially how his relationship with his body could effect his relationships in general, but I’ll leave it there for now as I have no clue if this is helpful at all 💀.

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