#and like. he was tortured. with a brain machine. so he can have a hand tremor and absence seizures or something.

[dirtytransmasc]

I haven't posted about Avatar in a *hot* minute, but, I have been infected with the hyperfixation again and the incessant urge to just hit Spider with the projection/trauma stick is driving me feral.

I just want to give him a shit ton of issues man. I want to make my sweet baby boy baby miserable. I love him so I have to make his life as hard as possible.

like making him absolutely unwell and giving him a list of chronic illness/disabilities (on top of the ones he already has from being human on Pandora) wouldn't fix me, but it'd do something that'd make my brain feel a little less implode-y 🤷🏻

Edit: small disclaimer for anyone who doesn't know me, I am disabled, hence why I said projection, I just feel like I should mention that, or the tone of this post feels a little uncomfy

[ciphillan]

He's gonna monologue about how much he dislikes you or smth

I think being tortured and killed and revived again and again by a sadistic omnipotent AI for 109 years would fix me.

[Reblogs >>> Likes] ⚠️PLEASE DO NOT REPOST⚠️

Insane ramblings under the cut:

If harlan ellison didn't want us to fuck the incel war machine he wouldn't have written lines like "he was God as Daddy the Deranged" and "the machine masturbated and we had to take it or die". What else did he mean by this

I have no time and I must draw. I read ihnmaims last year when I started post-grad and instantly got AM brainrot. I binged every single piece of ihnmaims media within the next few days. The Hate and radio monologues live rentfree in my brain

I'm also not sure if I wanted the person he's got under bondage to be Ted or a self-insert. Feel free to imagine it as yourselves, AM fuckers

Btw I'm surprised how BIG ihnmaims nation is on tumblr! There's been a boom recently so HIIIII PLEASE TALK TO ME ABOUT THE AI WITH THE INSATIABLE BLOODLUST AND THE HOT VOICE

This is very different from my usual stuff bc I hate drawing straight lines and mostly draw humans. But I just wanna contribute something to ihnmaims tumblr SO BAD I wanna puke, yall are so talented and creative!! I don't have a solid AM design, I can barely draw machines and cables so this is all you get! A weird claw hand, somewhat of a 'spine' along the cables behind his monitor, an eye in his logo to stare at you as he ties you up, questionable cable placement etc etc

..was anyone gonna tell me amazing digital circus is based on ihnmaims. is pomni their ted

Cough cough AIDAN from the Illuminae files by Amie Kaufman and Jay Kristoff was my evil AI lover awakening

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Dreams, A Nightmare and A Kiss

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> After you have a dream about Logan, your brain can't seem to forget it. And neither will Logan.

Disclaimer: Descriptions of torture, crying, a creepy guy. Apart from that, teasing, fluff, a little dash of steam at the end. Not Proof Read

You kept having this recurring dream. Or maybe it was a nightmare. It was hard to tell. What do you call it when, what seems like a dream, turns into a very awkward situation where you don’t know what to do with yourself when you wake up? 

Do you try to forget it ever happened? Do you talk to someone about it? Do you talk to the person about it? Are you meant to talk to the person about it? Or would consulting a psychiatrist be easier, considering the person who you dreamt about…was not someone you would, or even should be dreaming about?

“Morning.” 

Storm placed down her coffee on the table before pulling out her chair. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“What?”

Storm pointed at you, “You look like you’re thinking too hard.”

“Too hard for this early in the morning,” you mumbled. 

“Well, then, talk to me. Maybe I can help.”

“I don’t think even the world's best psychiatrist can help me with this one.”

Storm shrugged. “Maybe you don’t need the world’s best. Come on, try me.”

You took a moment and looked at Storm. Maybe it was worth a go…

“Okay,” you sighed. Storm got comfortable in her seat and leaned forward. Meanwhile, you practically had to pull your legs under the table and untrap your hands from between them. 

“I had a dream.”

“You had a dream?”

You nodded, trying your best to look her in they eyes when you spoke. Was you really going to admit this outloud to someone? 

“I had a…dream.”

It took her a minute. “Oh…oh. Okay, well anyone will tell you that’s normal. Healthy even. You know, sometimes-”

“About Logan.”

Storm faltered and then came to a full stop, her hand still in the air and her jaw slacked. “Logan.”

Storm spoke slowly as she looked at you, trying to gauge if this was some big prank you were playing on her. It wasn’t April. 

“L…ogan?” She asked this time, just to be sure. 

You nodded. 

“Our Logan?”

“Do you know any other Logan’s?”

Storm shook her head and blinked her eyes for one second too long before coming back into movement. “No, I guess not. So…what’s the issue?”

You looked at her like she was both crazy and confusing. “You don’t see the issue?”

Storm shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee. “Not particularly. I mean, it is a little odd considering…well considering you two aren’t the most…harmonious.”

“Understatement.”

And it was. 

Both yourself and Logan, although civil most of the time, weren’t exactly known for being best pals. 

“So what was it about?”

“Ororo!”

She just smiled, “What? I want to know. How was it?”

“I…I can’t answer that.”

“Sure you can! Oh, come on, Y/n. You can’t tell a girl you and Logan shared…something and not tell her about it.”

You sighed, “Yes, I can.”

“Oh my god,” Storm smiled, leaning back in her chair. “You liked it.”

“What?” You could practically feel your face bursting into flames. “N-no. No I didn’t.”

But she just laughed in response. “You sooo totally want it to happen in real life.”

“Want what to happen?” 

You practically squealed with fright as both you and Storm sat straighter in your chairs and turned to see Logan walk through the door and over to the coffee machine. 

“Uhhh, nothing. Nothing at all. How did you sleep?”

From pouring coffee, Logan repeated your question. “How did I sleep?”

You nodded, willing the redness from your face to disappear. The grip you had held on the back of your chair as you twisted your body was growing stronger by the minute. 

“Yeah.”

Logan placed the coffee pot back in its place and looked to Storm. “Is she okay?”

Then you felt yourself go back to normal. “I’m fine, Logan.”

Logan looked back at you. The general look of disgust and disinterest, a little more prominent on your face. 

“I slept fine.” Logan answered. Then his face turned into a grin he was holding back. Well. Trying to hold back. “How did you sleep, Y/n?”

Storm watched your eyes widen for a second and the blush heated your face once more. “Fine.” you were forced out. 

Logan just nodded and sipped his coffee. “And you? Storm?”

“Like a baby.”

Logan nodded and smiled. “Good. Good.”

Then the bell went. “I better get going. I guess I’ll see you later. Or should I say tonight?”

Logan watched as your face twisted from nothing, to confusion, to shock to embarrassment to…turning around and hiding it completely. 

“Have a nice day, ladies.”

Covering your face, you hid it on the table, letting your muffled voice speak out from your arms as Storm placed a hand on your back. “How much do you think he heard?”

“Not much…I think.” Storm looked behind her, a pained look on her face for you. “If he had heard it all, he would have gloated more.”

You gave a whimper in pain and Storm placed her hand on the back of your head. “It shouldn’t be too bad.”

“It’s Logan.”

“Okay, so you’re screwed.”

Thankfully, you had managed to avoid Logan all day. Jean had found you hiding in the teacher’s lounge when you knew Logan was teaching. Even him thinking you were alone in your classroom was hard enough. 

“You don’t have anything that could reverse time? Or make me forget all of today?”

Jean smiled, “No. I don’t think so. But Storm told me what happened.”

“Oh, God.” You groaned, placing down your food by your feet and burying your head by your knees. “How many people know?”

“Just me and Storm,” Jean assured you. “And Logan,” she added. 

You groaned again. 

However, now that everything was finally silent, you took time to breathe. Maybe Logan would finally drop it. 

Not that he had said anything to you apart from that morning. But…it was Logan. When it came to you, he’d never let you live it down. 

Stepping a little higher on your feet, you reached into the back of the cupboard to try and find the last box of tea bags. Why Scott had been assigned to stock away the one thing he didn’t drink was beyond you. He always put it at the very back of everything on the top shelf of the cupboard. 

Not even on the first shelf at the back. 

No, he’d rather have you pull a muscle or get yet another bruise from the knobs on the oven. 

Finally reaching it, you stepped back and closed the cupboard door just as someone shouted your name. 

You let out a little scream that was followed by his laughter. 

“Logan! Jesus Christ.”

He smiled sheepishly, “Sorry. Was just too easy.”

You gave him a glare and bent down to pick up your box of tea bags before walking away to the other side of the kitchen where you had left the kettle by the sink. 

“It’s almost midnight. Don’t just sneak up on a girl like that.”

“Forgive me.” He was still smiling. Even with your back to him, you could tell. “But I figured you’d be busy dreaming about me.”

“Having a nightmare, more like.” 

“Oh, come on. You had a dream about me. Admit it.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes before pushing down the kettle lid and placing it back on its holder before flicking the switch on. 

“Oh, please. You just want to gloat.”

“No, no. Okay, maybe a little.” Logan lowered his hands before using them to lift himself onto the counter where you stood by the island, chopping up some carrots. “What are you? The Easter Bunny?” Logan lifted a piece before putting it back down. 

With the knife still in your hand, you made direct eye contact as you pushed the knife down hard, listening to the snap of the carrot before returning your gaze to it. 

“So…tell me.” Logan began, picking up yet another piece of carrot yet this time eating it. “What was it about?”

“What was what about?”

“Your dream.”

“Logan,” you sighed. 

“What? Oh come on, we both know you dreamt of me. You could at least tell me what it was about considering you didn’t ask for my consent.”

You looked at him for a moment before walking away, towards the kettle that had finished boiling. 

Pouring the hot water into the cups, back on the island, you returned the kettle to its place, allowing the bags to steep in the water for a while. 

“Come on, you know you want to tell me.”

“I don’t want to tell you anything.”

“Did we kiss?” Logan asked, trying to find his answers. “Did we have sex? Sorry, make love. Did we get married? Did we-”

You sighed, placing down the knife. “We did nothing, Logan. I had a dream. You just happened to be there.”

“So what happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

Logan gave a coy look and lent down a little so he was closer to you. “Something happened.”

“Nothing happened.” You pressed. “Trust me, if anything you just asked me happened between me and you in any capacity, I’d be calling it a nightmare.”

Logan pouted and held his hand over his heart. “Oh, how you wound me.”

“You’re a grown man, Logan. Deal with it.”

Logan laughed, taking a couple steps back. “Okay, okay. I’ll drop it.”

“Thank you.” 

“For now.”

Leaning closer to you and over you, Logan reached for the second cup you hadn’t realised you had made of tea and took a handful of carrots with him. 

You berated yourself for having closed your eyes for a split second, letting his touch warm you. 

Logan was not a man you should or would ever go for. 

But Storm was right. 

You did enjoy it. 

You just never wanted Logan to know that. 

Over the following days, you could feel Logan’s eyes on you wherever you went. From the both of you standing by your classroom doors, watching the kids leave your classroom and making sure the right ones came in. 

Some students recently had a tendency to swap certain classes for others. 

Or like when you were at dinner and sat outside. From the grass below where he was coaching a game of baseball, you caught him looking at you and smiling as he turned away. 

So, when you saw him again in the empty hallway, you pushed him inside the nearest classroom. 

At least, what you thought was the nearest classroom. Turned out to be a storage room for school supplies. 

“Okay, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“I could ask you the same thing. You know, I think this is against the law, holding someone hostage inside a storage closet.”

“Every day this week, you’ve been staring at me. Why? Do I have something on my face? Or are you trying to see if you’ve suddenly developed telekinetic powers?”

Rather than replying, Logan just looked at you. Was he…studying you?

“You had another dream.”

You reeled back for a moment, trying your best not to squirm under his gaze. “Excuse me?”

Logan couldn’t help but smile. Or maybe it was a smirk. 

“You had another dream.” Logan repeated. “Was it any different, or was this just part two.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Logan shrugged. “It’s not every day you learn that someone is in love with you.”

You practically laughed. “In love? With you? Oh, that’ll be the day.”

Logan practically sang what he said next. “Oh, you are so totally falling in love with me.”

“Like hell.”

“Oh,” he laughed. “She’s already prepared the wedding vows.”

“I hate you.”

“Love you, too, Sweetheart.”

However, before you could reply to Logan’s statement, you both turned and found the door wide open. 

“Rouge,” you almost yelled her name in surprise. 

“Hey. Sorry about…interrupting. I just need some…” She pointed to behind both of you where the stack of boxed pencils were kept. 

Logan reached behind him and handed her a box. “Here you go, kid.”

“Thanks. I guess I’ll just uh…” 

Closing the door on both of you, she walked away, hearing a small thud on the door behind her. 

Little did she know it was your head. 

“Be careful, she might be thinking we’re doing something else in here.”

“I hate you,” you groaned. 

“Love you, too, Sweetheart.” Logan repeated, folding his arms and smiling. 

Turning the door handle, you swung open the door and walked out of it. 

It was halfway through the next day before you saw Logan, and it wasn’t exactly what you had in mind when you thought you next saw him. 

The heating on the top floor of the school; the floor which both yourself and Logan, along with a couple of other pupils happened to sleep on, hadn’t been working for a month. 

A trustworthy company couldn’t come out to inspect it for at least that time but now that they are finally here, part of you wished they hadn’t turned up at all. 

Because, for as much as you enjoyed talking to people, one of their tradesmen…you would have happily gone your whole life without ever having spoken to them. 

From the minute he walked in the door, he had been eyeing you up like you were his next meal. He always stood too close for comfort, trying his best to leave his hot breath behind your ear whenever he spoke which only made your skin crawl and when he blatantly started flirting with you…you more than obvious distance and replies of “No,” didn’t seem to do the trick. 

“I’m married.”

“I don’t see your husband anywhere, sweet cheeks. We could always get to know each other a little better, if you catch my drift.”

Then Logan turned down the hall. 

Finally spotting him, you gave a smile of relief. 

“Logan!”

He started walking closer to you. 

“Here he is, my husband,” you took him by the arm, putting him between yourself and one of the tradesmen. “Logan.”

Logan looked at you with a slightly confused look whilst you looked both scared, panicked (for two reasons) and was forcing a smile on your face the whole time. 

Logan took a breath and turned back to the tradesman who had everything, save from the actual word written across his head in bold ink, creepy going for him. 

“Can I help you?”

The guy practically tumbled back. “No, no. Just having a conversation. I guess I’ll get back to work.”

You watched as the guy tripped over his own feet trying to scurry away from yourself and Logan, neither of you missing the way the guy told two other workmates of his that you were, in fact, married. 

“Thank you. I’m sorry I dragged you into that but- Why are you smiling?”

Logan shook his head, standing in front of you, pressing his hands behind his back and bouncing on his feet. “No reason.”

You relaxed your face. “He was being a creep. What would you have had me do?”

“Come and got me.” Logan answered honestly. “But…I was right.”

“Right about what?”

“You had written the vows.”

With your arms crossed, your eyebrows relaxed as you looked at him. “I want a divorce.”

“Ooh, do you not remember, Sweetheart? That night you burned the marriage certificate?”

You started walking away. 

“What was it that you said?”

Logan followed after you. 

“Good luck returning me without the receipt. Now, that is better than Shakespeare, don’t you think?”

“I hate you.”

“See, I don’t think you do. Considering…”

“Considering what?”

“The fact that you keep dreaming about me.”

You sighed. “I already told you, it wasn’t about you. You were just in it.”

“Oh, that’s true love if I ever did see it.”

“Don’t you have a class to teach?” You asked as you turned into the kitchen. 

“I wonder what we did this time? Frolic on the beach? Have to say though, I’m not one to frolic anymore, but I could make an exception-”

You stuffed an apple into his mouth before turning to face him. “Remind me, how does the saying go again? An apple a day keeps your wife from killing you in your sleep?”

Walking away, you headed through the back doors and outside leaving Logan to bite down on his apple, all the while smiling. 

Something that you didn’t think through however, was having to keep the rouse up. And it wasn’t long before everyone knew. At least, all of the team knew. 

“I hear congratulations are in order,” Xavier said as he entered into the living room where you were sitting on one end of the sofa, curled up with a book, whilst Logan sat diagonal to you across the table, spread out, grading papers. 

“I have to say though, I thought I’d at least get an invite.”

Logan smiled, “That makes two of us.”

You just glared from over your book before going back to reading. 

“I have to say also, you both make a very cute couple. Of course, I was betting on it taking an extra couple of months.”

“I think Y/n helped to speed things up a little.”

You continued to glare. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“How could you tell?”

Rolling your eyes, you went back to trying to read your book. 

“Well, I suppose I best leave you both alone. What with you two still being in the honeymoon stage and all.”

Charles chuckled to himself as he left the room, not forgetting to shut the door behind him. 

You and Logan remained in silence for a while longer. However, Logan didn’t miss your gaze. Every couple of minutes you would look up and watch him. He could feel your eyes on him, heating his skin from under all his metal. 

“You know, if you didn’t keep staring at me every five minutes, you might have finished your book.”

“What?”

“Ooh, feigning disinterest. How original.”

After a moment, Logan stood and started walking over towards you. “You know, you could just ask.”

“Ask what?”

Logan sat beside you on the sofa, facing you, leaning in a little closer. “If that’s what it would be like?”

“If…what would be like what?”

Logan’s arms fell to either side of you on the sofa, caging you in. “If that’s what it would be like for us to be in the same room as each other without fighting. I’m sure you’ve thought about me once or twice. It’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

“Am I really that transparent to you?”

Logan practically smirked as his head tilted a little and he came closer to you. “You forget I can hear your heartbeat, Sweetheart.”

Your lips parted for a moment, feeling your heart rate increase even more. 

“I think you’re forgetting something else, too.”

“What’s that?”

Logan reached for you. Or rather, behind you. 

Pulling the cord, the lamp came on. 

“You hate me.”

That night, you lay awake in bed, wishing and hoping and praying on every goddamn star in the sky that you wouldn’t dream about him again. 

That you wouldn’t dream about the way his touch warmed yours, or how he would kiss you in all the right places, willing his name from your lips. That you wouldn’t dream about his arms wrapping around you or how, in a dark bedroom alone, you would hear the shower turn off only to have him emerge in a billow of steam like some kind of Greek or Roman God, just wrapped in a towel looking at you like…that. 

 That you wouldn’t dream about him in a way that you wouldn’t let yourself acknowledge. That you wouldn’t want to outwardly and knowingly fall in love with him, and have him fall right back. 

But, of course, the wishing and the hoping and the praying didn’t work. 

Because when you next opened your eyes, you were left with the memories of a dream that included not only you teaching – like you did most days of the week – but the classroom emptying to allow both yourself and Logan some privacy where he placed his hand against your stomach and kissed you. “She’s got her daddy’s strength, all right. I feel like I’m being kicked by a horse.”

You woke up with the fading feeling of the gentle yet firm hand Logan had on your stomach, and your heart’s growth fading a little when you realised it was just a dream. 

For the fifth dream in the space of a week, you were beginning to think you were cursed. Or, at the very least, had a problem. 

However, it all changed when you woke up in a sweat. 

Finally, three days had passed and no dreams at all. Nothing to do with Logan. Not even a single thought whilst you were asleep. 

And then things grew dark. 

You had been running. For your life. All around you, stars were falling from the sky, hitting the ground and shaking it from beneath you. Each way you turned kicked dirt into your face, making it harder to breathe. Your lungs felt like they were on fire before you finally reached a set of metal doors. 

Inside, you ran around, dipping in and around different stacked crates, your head whipping around you trying to check all angles. “Where are you?” you kept asking yourself. “Please be here.” 

Then you found him. 

But you heard him first. 

A scream. 

Turning, the room turned with you until you found yourself in some kind of lab. Logan strapped to the table, and just as you stepped forward you found yourself being held back by two soldiers who had to be at least seven feet tall and six feet wide. 

No matter how you moved, you couldn’t. 

They were branding Logan. Burning him with needles and different iron poles and wires. He was screaming in pain, unable to turn his body away from it. 

“Stop! Stop! You’re hurting him! Please! Stop!”

But they couldn’t hear you. No glass was in front of you, but there might as well have been. 

“No! Logan! Please! Stop hurting! Just…Please!”

Logan now turned to look at you. And as he did, your heart broke. He wasn’t walking away from this one. Looking at you, you saw silent tears roll from his eyes and down his cheek. “I’m okay. I’ll be okay.”

“Logan…” 

Your body was becoming limp in the soldiers arms. 

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart. I’m-” With a hot iron rod to his back, he screamed out in pain trying to move away from it. 

You screamed again, willing them to stop hurting him. To hurt you instead. But they wouldn’t. It was killing you. And everyone could see that. Even Logan as he took his last look. 

You called out his name. 

And woke up, calling out his name as you threw yourself to sit up in bed. 

Around you, your entire room was cased in darkness save for the moon-light flooding in. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for you to make out the outline of your room and the things in it. 

It took you a moment to catch your breath long enough to find a clear head to know your body was moving. 

Pulling the covers from you, you made your way out of your room and down the hall before you found his room. Except, as your hand hovered over the knob, it swung open and you stepped back. Whatever breath you had caught in your room was once again gone. 

Logan stood, his eyes adjusting to the light from the hallway, shirtless. Along with the pyjama bottoms Rouge had given him in a set last Christmas. 

“Y/n…I was just coming to check on you. Are you-” 

Surprising Logan, and perhaps yourself, you hugged him. Tight. “Okay?” Logan finished his question but didn’t expect an answer. 

It took him a moment, but he quickly wrapped his arms around you. Even though he could, he didn’t need to hear your heartbeat to know you were nervous, scared and relieved all at the same time. You were still shaking and you were just starting to catch your breath again. 

“I heard you shout me…are you okay?” Logan asked in a soft voice. 

You just tightened your grip. “I thought….I thought…”

Logan shook his head. Feeling your heart bash against your rib cage and into his was enough to let him know now wasn’t the time. 

“You don’t have to explain right now. Come and lie down.”

And you did. 

Letting go of Logan for a moment, he led you inside, shutting the door behind him and lifting the covers for you to slide inside. 

He lay down next to you and held onto your hand, two fingers holding onto your wrist. 

He had more natural light in his room which allowed him to see you a little clearer in the dark as you lay and faced him. 

He pressed your hand over his heart and he spoke to you softer than he ever had before. 

“Just count my heartbeats.”

And you did. 

Logan began counting yours in his head as he held onto your wrist but soon lost count when your gaze eventually met his. 

Your heart rate eventually also began to slow. Rather than having it thunder against your chest, leaving both you and Logan wondering if some kind of Looney Tunes spell had been cast on the school which would make your heart physically leap out of your chest, it beat like normal. 

He watched as your eyes started to grow heavier before they finally closed and your breathing became even. And only once that happened, did he allow himself to relax. 

By the time you woke up, you found your own nose and forehead pressed lightly against Logan’s, your bodies naturally falling closer together as his hand held onto yours whilst his other was pressed under your neck and against your pulse point. 

Then you remembered last night. Your nightmare. Waking up in a sweat. Rushing down the hallway towards his room. Hugging him and never wanting to let go. His own heartbeat against the palm of your hand. His scent enveloping you whilst the heat from his body made you feel safe, warm and relaxed. 

“Hey,”

Softly, you brought your gaze back to Logan’s eyes. You never got to see this side of him. The fresh out of bed – in this case, in – look. 

“Hey.”

“Do you want to talk about last night?”

You swallowed lightly and shook your head. “It was nothing.”

“You had a nightmare.”

You looked away from him for a moment but felt his fingertips press into the back of your neck, begging you to look at him. 

“It wasn’t nothing. Please…talk to me.”

Your gaze flicked back and forth between his eyes, trying to get a read on him. 

He really wanted to know. 

“You died, Logan. At least…I think you did.”

And you went on to explain. About the running, the cave, the metal rods, the screaming, the shouting, the soldiers – all of it. 

Every final detail. 

“All I wanted was to get to you. To make it stop. But I couldn’t. You were screaming in pain and telling me you were going to be okay. I wanted to get you out- I needed to get you out. But every time I tried to move…”

Your voice broke, your eyes filled and Logan felt his own heart break looking at you. How he wished he could erase it. How all he wanted to do in that moment was erase away your pain. 

Logan shushed you a little before pulling his hand from yours that he had continued holding, to allow his arm to go around your back, pulling you flush against him. 

The hand that had been by your neck, pushed to the bottom of your hair line, his fingers tangling with your strands. 

With a pressed kiss to your temple, Logan shook his head. “It was just a nightmare. I’m here. You’re here. We’re both safe. Hey, hey.”

Logan pushed himself back for a moment to be able to look at you. His thumb traced under your eye, brushing the tears away before they could fall down your face. 

“At least this is how I find out, maybe you don’t hate me.”

You laughed a little at that. “You’re a jackass.”

“Maybe,” Logan shrugged. “But you’re in love with me anyway.”

With a scoff and a smile, despite how much you tried not to, you hit Logan in his chest. He chuckled softly for a moment, taking hold of your hand before you could do him any more bodily harm. 

Not that he probably even felt you hit him. He was 90% metal. It probably would bruise you if you actually hit him. 

But when Logan took your hand, things seemed to slow down. 

With his gaze on you, his fingers started tracing your hand. His thumb working its way from your wrist to your palm, all the while his fingers traced up and curled around your own before your hand was flush against his, your fingers only a movement away from falling and intertwining against his. 

And they did. 

Logan took a minute to look at where your hands joined and any control he had over his heartbeat disappeared into an oblivion. 

He looked back at you. 

His fingers locked with yours and you felt your body shift closer towards him. Not fully aware of his own body, Logan had leaned up a little further from his pillow and leaning in closer towards you. 

You were both hesitant, at first. Unsure of what was happening, but fully aware that it was. 

The kiss was soft. Unfamiliar. Neither of you had expected this to happen when you had woken up. In all honesty, neither of you had expected it to ever happen. 

Well, maybe your subconscious. 

But that was a debate for another time. 

However, as it came to an end, reality stuck Logan. He had kissed you. You had come to him because you had a nightmare. You had stayed by his side, in his room, for the rest of the night. And now he had kissed you. 

You were right. 

He was a jackass. 

“I…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

You shook your head and furrowed your eyebrows. Your own internal monologue was having a whale of a time confusing you. Convincing you that the kiss didn’t happen. Then that was always meant to happen. That maybe…maybe it was always meant to feel like that. Or maybe it was never meant to feel like that. 

“Logan…”

For a brief moment, Logan looked confused. Were you going to yell at him? Curse him? 

No. 

Instead, you untangled your hand from his and Logan felt his heart sink. Then stop. 

That same hand slowly, hesitantly, reached for his cheek and you…

Kissed him. 

Again. 

This time, it was more searching and more familiar. More trusted. 

His hand now free, Logan pressed his hand to your own face, drawing you in closer whilst his arm curved around you and he allowed his hand to slip over your shoulder, down you back, towards your hip and up, inside the back of your t-shirt. 

His touch was warming to you. 

Your own hands traced down the side of his neck and up the side of his arm before meeting at the back, your nails scratching at the base of his hairline and neck. 

Finally having moved you onto your back, Logan leaned over you, his weight shifting onto you a little. 

Bringing his hands down to your hips, Logan lifted you a little further up the bed and you let out a small squeal. 

And he smirked. 

“Jackass.”

“You love it.”

Logan caught your smile against his own and pressed further into you, his legs slowly tangling with yours before he found his place locked between them. 

Pushing the hair from your face with his hand, Logan and yourself continued searching each other. Pressing against the boundaries that had been your last partnership together. 

Maybe it would take a short while to find your footing with each other. And maybe it would take even longer before you finally told Logan the truth about your first dream. 

And maybe, when you finally did, he spent the entire night helping you recreate it. Proving that the reality was better and so much more than your dream. 

[nanamiscocksleeve]

The Office Pet

warnings: MDNI, rough sex, bdsm, treating reader like an animal, name calling, degradation, public humiliation, exhibitionism, dacryphilia, whipping, oral (fem receiving)

"Yes, go ahead and change the meeting to next week," Kento says smoothly, tapping his fingers against the polished wooden surface of his desk. "How fortunate that it worked out for both of us."

"Indeed," says the voice on the line. "I hope we-" The voice pauses as a loud whine is made audible on the call. "Is everything all right?"

"Indeed. No worries, it's just the office pet. She gets whiny when she's not receiving any attention." The blond salaryman says smoothly. "I look forward to our meeting next week." With that, he disconnects the line and turns his attention to you.

"Being a little disobedient today are we?"

You try to keep your desperate sobs to a minimum but it wasn't easy. The sybian Kento had ordered specially for you was vibrating against your clit, the dildo thrusting relentlessly inside you. Ropes bound you to the seat, as you blinked back the tears in your eyes. 

"I believe all I asked was for you to not orgasm until I was done with the call." Kento walks over to you, grinning at the tears in your eyes. A finger slips under the cute collar around your throat and he yanks you forward with sadistic gentleness.

"Mmm....I haven't...holding it...Being...good..." you whimper, trying to hold in your orgasm desperately, feeling your pussy clench around the dildo.

"Aw...have you? I suppose for a cumslut like you...that's impressive." He releases the collar.

"Master...can I please-"

"No." The word is said commandingly and you sob with need. "Please." You try again. "I'm gonna cum...please...need permission-"

"No." Kento reaches out and painfully twists one of your nipples, causing you to cry out from the pain. "You will listen and hold it. What's the point of having a pet if they're not obedient to you?"

As you whimper, muscles quivering from the effort of holding in your orgasm, he grins at you, amusement in his eyes. “I think you need a lesson in remembering what it means to listen and please your master. Perhaps I should show your bad behavior to the office? You should see the other pets…they’re quiet and obey.”

“I can obey…” you say in a progressively shrill voice as the machine continues to torture your pussy, pushing you to a limit that you feel your brain getting fuzzy, a haze of sexual need falling over you. 

“It appears you can’t.” He switches off the machine and you feel the loss on your abused, swollen pussy. He starts to remove the ropes binding you to the seat of the chair and lifts you off easily, dildo sliding from your wet cunt, and sets you down on the floor. 

“On your hands and knees. Perhaps a walk will set you straight.”

Trying not to show any signs of disobedience, you get on all fours. Nanami removes a leash from his desk drawer, which he dangles in front of your face before whipping your ass with one end of it, making you squeal and recoil from him. 

He clicks his tongue as he grabs your hair, keeping you in place. “Stay.” The command is said so seductively in your ear that despite everything, you freeze. “Stay,” he repeats, before whipping you a few more times, his lip curling cruelly at each squeal of pain, your ass turning red with each whip. Once he’s done, he clips the hook of the leash onto your collar, tugging at it.

“Walk,” he says authoritatively, as he opens the door. You crawl on your hands and knees, head bowed, feeling shame that you had disobeyed him like this. He walks you in between the cubicles, the occupants staring at your round ass, jiggling with your movements, your cunt puffy and chafing against your thighs, fluid seeping in between and dripping, leaving little droplets on the floor. Your tits sway as you continue to make your way down the hall. Only company partners were allowed to have pets, so this display to the other employees was a matter of rank and pride.

He walks you to the large office on the other side of the cubicles before knocking on the door and entering.

“Nanamin!” Gojo turns in his chair delightedly. “Have you brought your pet over for a playdate?”

“No playdate today. She’s being taught a lesson.”

“Ooh, been a bad girl huh?” Gojo smirks at you, and you feel yourself get more turned on by the words. 

“Hmm. Being noisy during work calls.”

“Tsk. Too bad. My pet stopped that about two weeks ago. Look at her.” He gestures over to the side of his office where his pet, a lovely woman with russet-colored hair was resting on a few pillows, hips humping against a vibrator. Only quiet hums were heard as she did this, not minding that they had company.

“See? Keeps herself quiet. Cums as much as she wants. Gotta check on her though, because sometimes she needs lube and hurts herself. Isn’t that right sweetheart?” The woman looks up, adoration in her eyes at Gojo and nods, not stopping her humping. 

“Just gotta keep upping her lube. Once she’s done cumming to her satisfaction she sleeps.” 

“Hear that?” Kento asks you, and you dare to look up at him with puppy dog eyes. “Oh don’t give me those eyes sweetheart.” He pets your hair. “I think you’ve learned your lesson after seeing how a good pet should be.” He strokes you down the back of your neck, up the curve of your ass. 

“Although, I must admit Nanamin, I’m surprised with your method. A sybian on such a new pet. I would’ve started with something less intense.”

“My methods are harsher but yield faster results,” Nanami says smoothly. “But perhaps I’ll look into something softer for her. I’m quite fond of her. Thinking about keeping her permanently.” He pats your ass with affection. Gojo whistles at that.

“Really? Getting kinda attached there eh?”

“I think I am. She’s sweet. And her pussy-” he suddenly stuffs two of his fingers into your sore cunt making you gasp loudly, “-has the nicest scent.” He pulls out his fingers, covered with your moisture, and offers it to Gojo for inspection. 

Gojo sniffs and his eyes widen. “That’s some sweet pussy you got there. Very nice. But I like my girl just fine. Cmere baby,” he calls to his pet, who stops her humping and comes over to him on hands and knees. 

“Can I get some attention, my sweet girl?” he croons and the woman puts her head on his lap. Taking that as a cue, Kento leaves Gojo’s office and begins your walk of shame back to his office. People stare at you enviously. 

“They’re jealous because you’re mine.” He says in a low tone only you can hear. “Only I get your sweet cunt and get to make you cum. They’ll get promoted someday, maybe get their own pet. But I have the sweetest little whore all to myself. Remember that.”

Once back in his office, he removes your leash, and the collar, to your surprise. He gently pets the nape of your neck, before picking you up and placing you onto the plushy futon on the floor he had gotten for you in a cute shade of pink, complete with matching pillows. 

“I guess maybe Gojo was right. I could be a little softer on you.” He caresses your face, petting behind your ears and then under your chin. Your eyes close and you purr at the touch, making him chuckle. 

“I do like you. Want to keep you forever. Did you just need some attention back then?” 

You nod eagerly, making him look at you amusedly. “Where did you want my attention? Show me.”

You make an arch with your body, ass up in the air, head lowering to the ground, spreading your legs so that he can see your whole cunt. 

“You greedy girl. Ok, just this time. I’m not rewarding you. You still disobeyed me by whimpering during that phone call. Think of this as testing your abilities. I’m going to make you cum and I expect you to stay quiet as it happens. I will ask the employees sitting outside if they heard you. If even one of them says yes…well…you can imagine how displeased I’ll be.” 

You quickly bite into the corner of the pillow as he licks your leaking hole generously, pushing his tongue into it. “Mhm… You taste so sweet…Might keep you just for this pussy…” His tongue laves upwards, finding your clit, slurping and pulling on it until you saw stars in your vision. All your noises were muffled by the pillow and you try not to grind against him, unsure how he would react, and just whimpered quietly, barely audible. 

Rough hands spread apart your ass cheeks to give more access to your dripping core, lapping up every drop of arousal you produce. After the rough session on the sybian you know you won't last long, and your hips thrust against your will, causing him to pause. 

“Are you close?” 

In a trembling voice, you ask pathetically, “Yes… Can I please cum master… I'll be good…” 

Your labia are so swollen and turning purple from the unreleased tension. Kento gently flicks them, making you twitch before saying, “Yes… Cum…But quietly.”

He focuses his attention on the hard nub and inserts two fingers to find your g-spot, feeling the gummy walls clench around him, practically sucking him in. 

You bury your head onto the cushions, not daring to breathe, smelling your arousal everywhere before orgasm grips you. You bite into the cushion, minimal, strangled whimpers of ecstasy escaping your throat as your cunt explodes with orgasmic pleasure, making you shudder. Kento quickly licks off his fingers before pulling down his pants and boxers, cock hard and throbbing. 

“Quiet,” he reminds you, before pushing into your wet folds. There's no resistance, you'd been so ready for such a long time now, pussy sucking him in and you keep your head buried in the cushions as he fucks you. He groans, teeth gritted. “Such a good little pet…Taking me so quietly… So obediently… are you feeling good?”

With all the concentration you could muster, you say in barely a whisper, “Fills me so good… Meant for my pussy… Fuck me as you please…” 

“I'm going to breed you my little pet… the next time you go on a walk my cum will be leaking from that pretty cunt of yours… And everyone will know what a good little cum dumpster you've been for me… Will know you're full of my seed…”

The thought was an overwhelming turn on and you feel like yourself dangerously close to the edge. “Master…” You whisper. “I’m close…Can I?”

“Not until I'm done. Don't get greedy. You already came once. Wait your turn.” 

You try to distract your mind from the impending orgasm, feeling your belly tighten almost painfully from holding it in. His hips stutter and his movements start to get sloppy as he fucks into you, balls slamming against your ass as you try to control your breath and impulses. His cockhead hits your g spot then brushes your cervix each time, and you can feel your mind starting to lose grip on reality. 

All that mattered was his cock… And him allowing you to cum. 

He growls as he orgasms, his hot seed coating your walls, cock pulsating inside you. 

“Well what are you waiting for?” he asks as he continues to thrust in you. “I thought you said you wanted to cum.”

With the hardest effort you’ve ever had to exert in your life, you cum a second time, a barely perceptible sobbing gasp escaping your throat, tears coating your face as you control the need to shout, your overstimulated cunt spasming so intensely, you thought you’d collapse. 

“Good girl…so good…barely made any sound.” He pulls out, his seed dripping from your abused hole. His thick fingers squeeze the edges of your lips, making it drip more, before pushing it back in with a finger making you squirm. 

“Let’s take another walk. I want everyone to know what a good pet smells like after she’s been rewarded.”

[jjkamochoso]

Pt. 2 of Imagine… Soshiro Hoshina Finding You on the Brink of Death

Angst, Fluff

Soshiro Hoshina x gn!reader

Warnings: mentions of hospital setting/devices

You can find the all angst ridden part 1 here!

One week.

That was how long it had been since Soshiro had seen your alluring (e/c) eyes, heard your infectious laugh, blushed at your gentlest smile reserved just for him. The past 7 days of you in a coma after almost becoming a kaiju meal had been devastating for him and the rest of your teammates. You had many visitors over the hours you lied completely still on your hospital bed, but you weren’t the only unmoving person in your room. Soshiro had rarely moved an inch from your side, only getting up to go to the bathroom. He couldn’t remove himself from his seat next to your fragile body in case you woke up; he couldn’t bear the thought of you being alone in such a vulnerable state anyway.

“They’re under the best care here, Hoshina. Go get some rest,” Captain Ashiro had told him on day 3, when Soshiro was sporting dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. He respectfully refused, and Mina knew better than to fight with him right now—he was as stubborn as he was talented with his swords. Every time the nurses came in to check your vitals, they looked upon him and his sad state of being with sorrow, feeling awful to see the man in such despair. They had taken it upon themselves to deliver meals for him since they all knew he wasn’t leaving to eat. Even if most of the time the tray sat untouched, they took it as a win when a pudding or fruit cup disappeared.

Day 5 was the hardest for Soshiro. By that point, he was delirious from staying up practically all night in case you needed something. His typed reports stopped making sense, his brain nowhere near as sharp as usual due to the fog of grief that had settled in his mind. The steady beeps of your life support machine haunted his every waking moment, a perfect symphony of the anguish he couldn’t escape. Thankfully, Kafka had heard about his vice captain’s condition and visited that night, offering to take over Soshiro’s watch in case you woke up. Soshiro was extremely reluctant at first, but he knew that you and Hibino were close; he also trusted the kind hearted man enough to know he’d be there for you in case something happened. With strong hesitation, Soshiro left your sight for the first time in 96 hours, heading to the shower. No matter how hard he scrubbed, he couldn’t wash away the feelings of guilt he harbored over your injuries.

If only I was faster, stronger… I could’ve been there sooner. Stopped the kaiju from ever sinking its disgusting teeth into you. What kind of vice captain am I? What kind of… person am I? How could I ever expect them to love me back if I can’t succeed in my one job of protecting them?

He let his tears fall freely, mixing in with the water from the shower head.

Day 7 was the point where Soshiro was just… there. He barely felt anything anymore, whether it was exhaustion, anguish, or anything else. He sat next to you like normal, gazing at your chest as it sank and rose with shallow breaths, but his eyes were glazed over in a manner reminiscent of a man without hope. The doctors didn’t have an estimated time for you to wake up. With injuries as extensive as yours, there was no telling when your body would be ready to start running on its own again. Soshiro didn’t know how to process that news; he liked seeing tangible results, and the fact that you had been hooked up to all these damn machines for so long and nothing had changed? It was pure torture to him. He found himself inching closer to you, if that were even possible, and he took hold of your hand with the softest of touches.

“I miss ya, y/n,” he whispered, bringing your hand to his lips. He was careful to not disrupt the IV as he laid a gentle kiss on your cold skin, savoring the sensation of doing what had wanted to do since he first met you all those years ago.

“Remember the promise we made to each other when we were young and dumb? Now we’re old and dumb,” he chuckled humorlessly, “and you still have to keep up your end of the bargain. You have to survive. I can’t lose you.”

He took in a deep, shaky breath. “I can’t lose you because I’m in love with you.”

It was like the world was playing a cruel joke on him—he finally garnered the courage to admit he had fallen in love, but the object of his affections wasn’t able to hear it. He let his head hang in misery as he kept your hand close to his face, eventually placing it against his cheek. He closed his eyes, wishing with all his might that you would wake up. If you died… he wouldn’t know how to move on from such a devastating blow. He knew this macabre scenario had a high probability of happening in this career field you two chose, but he always had faith in his and your abilities to stay alive. To say that faith had been shaken was the understatement of the century.

“Y/n, please. I can’t do this alone. I need ya back with me. You gotta keep fighting.”

Soshiro went to place your hand back on the bed when he swore he felt your fingers move against his own. His eyes widened in surprise as his heart started slamming against his rib cage. Was that real or just his imagination?

It happened again.

And your eyes opened.

He slammed on the call button, informing the nurses of your awakening before turning his attention back to you.

“So-soshiro,” you tried to say, but your throat couldn’t form any words.

“Shh, don’t say anything, darling, I’m right here. Always have been, always will be.”

A grin swirled with anxiety and relief was present on his lips as he looked at you.

After a few hours of tests, doctors checking up on you, and small moments to collect your thoughts, you were finally able to form coherent sentences.

“You sat here the whole time? Now I feel bad,” you said, a small frown gracing your features.

“Don’t feel bad. I didn’t want you to be alone, that’s all,” Soshiro told you, nervously scratching at the back of his neck. “Did you… happen to hear anything I was saying before you woke up?”

“What, like how we’re old and dumb and that you’re in love with me?” you said, trying your best not to laugh at his shocked expression.

“Huh? You actually did hear me? I thought that only happened in movies!” he whined, his cheeks tinged with red.

“No reason to be embarrassed, Soshiro. I didn’t know how to tell you but I’m in love with you, too. I have been for a very long time.”

Soshiro was looking upon you like you had descended directly from the heavens, his eyes gleaming with unbridled joy as his fingertips danced over your arm, tracing shapes in an intimate, comforting manner.

“I‘ve been so worried about ya, sweetheart, but now that you’re back with me, it’s like I can breathe again.”

You relished in the calm quiet of the room, basking in Soshiro’s loving presence. He was exactly the driving force behind you willing your body to wake up. You could never leave him to walk this world alone.

“I also felt you kissing my hand,” you said after a long bout of silence. “That was very sweet of you.”

“Guess all I had to do was give ya true love’s kiss to wake up?” he joked, his little fangs peeking out of his lazy grin.

“I’m looking forward to my real kiss when I get out of the hospital,” you replied, attempting to wink at him.

He leaned his face over yours, his breath leaving goosebumps in its wake. “If you want, I can give you a preview of it right now.”

You felt your pulse quicken and apparently so did the heart rate monitor you were hooked up to; the machine started beeping, alerting that your numbers were abnormal.

Soshiro kissed your forehead before sitting down again, smirking. “Do I make ya nervous?”

Now it was your turn to blush. “Watch it Hoshina, or I’ll have you admitted into the bed next to me.”

Soshiro burst out in his trademark laugh, grabbing at his stomach and wiping away the tears forming in his eyes. You could be given all the medicine known to man but nothing could make you feel better than the promise of being loved by the easily amused violet haired man who will never leave your side.

[c0mbatchameleon]

@jegulus-microfic March 12, prompt: retire, words: 953

Aka optometrist reg au (part 1? maybe) loosely based off of this post

James is having trouble breathing.

The problem is, he can’t quite remember how to do it right now. His brain, rather impressively, emptied of all of its contents the moment the optometrist opened the door.

Right off the bat, the man had been straight to business; swift stride into the room, eyes glued to the clipboard in hand, a curt “hello” and introduction before he sat down and uncapped a pen with his goddamn teeth. James could only stare dumbly, mouth agape as he stumbled over half-sentient responses to the all routine eye exam questions (“See okay with your current prescription?” A black curl falling over the doctor’s otherwise perfectly framed face, cheekbones carved by the sea, like stones.

“Uh huh.”

“Taking any current medications?” Beautiful silver-blade eyes meeting his expectantly.

“Uh-“ James coughing and clearing his throat, “no. No medications.”)

Now, he's at least regained his ability to form sentences. But as James watches the doctor fiddling with machinery, silver rings glinting in harsh, sterile lighting, he is finding immense difficulty in breathing like a normal human being.

“So,” James begins, leaning to rest his elbow on the table and swelling his chest ever-so-slightly. He does his best to smooth out his voice as he speaks, going for casual with just a sprinkling of something sultry. “Dr. Black, did you say it was?” He may not be able to fully function but God help him if he can’t still flirt.

The doctor's eyes flick up for only a split second, but James counts it as a win. “That’s correct.” He maneuvers what looks like an avant-garde torture contraption towards where James is sitting. “Rest your chin on the platform.”

James does as he’s told, holding back from an absurd urge to respond with a Yes, sir. He's definitely not conjuring a medley of alternate scenarios in his head in which Dr. Black orders him around. “And what might your first name be?”

“It might be of no relevance to the matter at hand, Mr. Potter.”

“Call me James, please.”

Regulus sits on the other side of the torture-machine and begins turning dials. “You should see a red X on the right side, James,” he replies flatly. Still, the sound of his name on the man’s tongue is fucking intoxicating. It's echoing around his skull--James James James JamesJamesJames--he wants to hear it a million more times, every minute of every day until his last.

James usually hates these appointments. Hates the big machines he has to stick his face in, blowing air and shining bright lights in his eyes. Hates that stupid picture of the house that they make him look at a million times over while some old man who looks just about ready to retire asks “One or two?”

But Dr. Black is not some old man.

He’s new—James has been coming here for years and has certainly never been graced with the sight of this angel-fallen-to-earth before. He's young, too; despite the way he carries the poise of a man with years of experience under his belt, cool and confident and collected, there’s no way Dr. Black is old enough to be more than a couple years out of school. All sharp edges and smooth skin.

And god, his skin. It looks impossibly soft, stretched over slender hands and freckled cheeks, strong nose and cut jaw. As James runs his eyes hungrily over the landscapes of peach-pale skin--hills and valleys spanning the doctor's face and neck and fingers and knuckles--he considers how easy it would be to reach out and touch it, find out for himself if it's really as smooth as it looks.

“James,” Dr. Black's voice cuts sharp through his fantasy, one brow raised where he's clearly caught James drooling over him. “Please look into the eyepiece.”

It’s not like James can help it. He’s a bit entranced by the way the doctor maintains such a stoic expression, posture rigid and cold eyes unwavering, especially now. It’s all the beauty of a pointed blade, glittering in the sunlight, begging to draw blood.

But James doesn’t miss the light blush now in full bloom across the man’s cheeks. Silver-clad fingers have begun tapping a sporadic pattern on the table as storm cloud eyes sweep down and back up James' face, quick as a flash of lightning, and isn’t that just curious? Suddenly, James wants to know what it would take to get that stone-cold cast to crack.

He shoots back a sly grin. “Sure thing, nameless doctor.” He looks into the contraption. “Oh would you look at that. A red X.”

The doctor lets out a muted sigh. He fidgets some more with the dials and buttons on the other side of the machine as James watches the X shift in and out of focus. He breaks the silence only when it's stretched for just a moment too long. “My name is Regulus. There’s gonna be a bright flash now.”

Immediately, a blinding white light flashes directly into his eye, burning a goddamn hole into his field of vision. He swears he can see the inside of his pupil for a moment.

But James doesn't care. Once the shock subsides, he finds himself grinning ear-to-ear.

Now we're getting somewhere.

He looks back up from the eyepiece to where the doctor, Regulus, is still intently focused on the computer and equipment. Evading James' gaze. Cheeks still pink.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Regulus.”

[nicksolemnlyswears]

WAYS TO COME UNDONE

this is part 2 of WAYS TO DESTRESS but can be read as a standalone

summary: coriolanus keeps his promise about making you squirt all over him. what better way to do it than in front of the mirror.

pariring: young! coriolanus snow x capitol! reader

word count: 4.3k

warnings: 18+, smut, cursing, fingering, sex in front of mirror, squirting, pussy spanking, p in v, use of safe word, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it people), I DESPERATELY NEED A CORYO IN MY LIFE

a/n: hi 🌚 many wanted this, myself included hehe. it took a turn towards the end where it basically wrote itself. i have no control over what tickles my brain. i hope you guys enjoy it as much as i do. hopefully this oneshot shows more about the machinations of their relationship.

requests open ✨

From the moment Coryo showed you the racy clip of him using you while asleep, you have not been able to stop the waves of heat that consume your cunt.

You're a stellar student who always concentrates on the lectures and participates in class. Today, you find yourself in the back of the classroom, daydreaming about Coriolanus and his tongue. Focusing was out of the picture for you as you tried not to sneak your hand between your thighs and soothe the ache.

One of the many reasons your relationship works so well is that both of you are extremely perverted. Coriolanus has always been more in tune with that side of himself, but you needed assistance to bring that side out. Coriolanus saw it in you long before you did, and he patiently gauged it out and molded it to fit his crooked ways.

It's why Coriolanus using you while you were knocked cold has you acting this way. He pleasured himself when you were at your most vulnerable, and instead of feeling violated, you thanked him. You savor that instead of finding another whore to fuck his frustration out, he stays with you, no matter the state. If that makes you sick, then be it.

When your last class was over, you rushed to the apartment. You needed Coriolanus to stop this burning inside you. Sadly, he's a teacher's pet and workaholic who only managed to get home at eight at night.

He walks into the apartment calmly, humming under his breath while you watch him like a hawk. Coryo sees you on the living room couch 'lounging' and approaches you to leave a kiss on your head. Your eye twitches when he announces he's going to shower.

His upturned lips give him away. He's tormenting you. As if waiting for him all day wasn't torture enough. It could be worse, though he could've stayed longer at the lab. God knows he has a ton of experiments to work on.

With a huff, you follow him into the bedroom.

"How was your day, darling?" He asks, taking his clothes off.

He's like a masterpiece that has escaped a museum. His fair skin is unblemished except for the scars on his back that you've spent hours running your fingers over. Sometimes, he feels them burn, a reminder of what he's done in the past, but then you're there kissing over them to ease the pain.

"Long," you dryly respond, crossing your arms, inadvertently accentuating your chest.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Coryo says humorously, stepping into the steaming shower.

The foggy glass hides him from you, but you remain watching by the bathroom door. Despite your short answers, he continues to talk to you, successfully getting under your skin.

He's entertained by your lingering presence. Privacy is not in your vocabulary anymore. Coriolanus likes it when you get this needy. It's like an experiment where he tests how far you're willing to go.

It's not complicated; all you have to do is ask, and he'll give you the world, but you're too modest for your own good. It prevents you from coming right out with it. You could've had him the moment he stepped into the apartment if you had only asked.

You look at him hopefully when he steps out of the shower. Shamelessly, you take every inch of him. Coriolanus strong shoulders, his chiseled chest and abs, his pretty pink cock that hangs half hard most of the time.

He deprives you of it as he wraps a towel around his hips. Coriolanus approaches you, water droplets falling from his blonde hair and down his body.

Coriolanus is so close to you, and when you think he'll dip his head down to kiss you, he grabs your hips and moves you to the side to give himself passage into the bedroom. "'Excuse me."

You want to throw him with the vase of roses settled on the bathroom counter. You resist since you need him to be conscious for what you have planned. You're aware of how Coriolanus can read you like a book. So why isn't he asking about your mood or if you need anything?

He sits against the headboard, wearing only his pajama bottoms, his cock clearly outlined by the fabric. Coriolanus doesn't wear underwear to bed, he doesn't like the tight fabric when he's asleep. Having you hugging him throughout the night is enough.

With a huff, you strut over to the bed and straddle his lap. Expecting it, Coriolanus reaches for your hips, holding you tight onto him.

"Do it again," you say, placing your hands on his chest and provocatively arching your back as if offering yourself to him.

"What, darling?" He asks, quirking an eyebrow. He tilts his head towards you as if he didn't hear you properly.

You roll your eyes, annoyed. "Make me squirt," you say blatantly. It sounds wrong coming from your lips.

Coriolanus chuckles, shaking his head, "I said another time, darling. I'm tired tonight."

You punch his naked chest weakly, with your frown turning deeper. He grabs your hand midway through the air as you try to smack him again.

Amused at your boldness, he opens your palm and laces your fingers together. He kisses the back of your hand and holds it to his chest.

"You are mean and cruel, Coriolanus," you spit out, hoping to annoy him by using his full name. Maybe this will make him do it or at least provoke him to do something.

"You knew that when you accepted to marry me." His gaze hardens as he taps on the engagement ring on your fourth finger.

It glints delicately, catching people's attention and letting them know you're taken. He spent months searching for the right ring for you. Coriolanus had to find the perfect balance: nothing too simple where it would pass unseen but nothing too gaudy where you wouldn't wear it.

"I don't care how cruel you are to others as long as it's not me," you respond, cradling his jaw in your hand.

"Give me a good reason why I should do it," he asks, kissing your palm.

"I'll do anything, Coryo. I'll suck you off in the lab, cockwarm you in my father's office, let you tie me up, fuck my throat, anything! Hell, I'll even let you try anal again," you huff, winding yourself up.

You must really want it if you brought up anal. It's the one thing you've tried and haven't wanted to do again. You're pretty open to his suggestions, but that one is your hard limit.

He won't make you do it again. Seeing you needy like this is enough. Although he might take your offer of blowing him under the desk in his lab.

"You make a compelling case," he hums, looking at you carefully. You're flushed without him even touching you, and your nipples are hard under your nighty.

This isn't a whim, your body is visibly begging for him. Coriolanus has to pat himself on the back. This is all his doing.

"Coryo, you don't know how many times I've watched that video," you say as if to prove how much you need him.

"Kiss me," Coriolanus sighs, giving in.

You slam your lips against his, eagerly kissing him until you're breathless. Your fingers curl around his hair, tugging the strands and making him groan into your mouth. Taking the opportunity, you slip your tongue into his mouth, tasting him.

Coriolanus smacks a hand down on your ass cheek, leaving a red imprint behind. In retaliation, your teeth bite harshly onto his lower one, causing a drop of blood to surface.

"I love you, darling," he growls as his eyes darken with lust, and he cups your face with both his hands. You've turned so bold under his tutelage, stealing pages from the book he wrote.

"Yeah, I love you too, come on," you pant, taking off your night dress to reveal yourself to him.

"I've created a monster," Coryo murmurs, pawing on one of your breasts as he mouths the other one.

"Don't act like you don't like it," you moan, rolling your hips down on his bulge. Your lack of underwear is apparent as a wet patch forms on his pants.

Coryo involuntarily unwraps you from his body as he stands from the bed. You chase his lips with a whine when he pulls away from you. Coriolanus sets a chair in front of the floor-length mirror in the corner of the room, sitting on it and motioning for you to sit on his lap.

If he's going to give you what you want, he will do it his way. You need him to make you squirt, so he's going to have you watch so you never forget about the moment. He'll engrave in your brain how it was he who made it possible.

With his hands on your waist, he turns you to face the mirror and pulls you down to sit with your back to his chest. Just like a doll, he positions you with your legs propped up on his knees, exposing your dripping cunt.

"No matter what, you're going to look at yourself in the mirror, or there will be consequences," he growls into your ear, licking the shell of your ear and biting your earlobe.

"Yes, Coryo," you moan, excitedly biting your lip.

Looking at him through the mirror, you notice his wicked stare. He begins to roll your clit on his fingers steadily, earning a sigh of contentment from you.

He's memorized everything about your body. Each stage of arousal is burned into his brain at this point. It's how he knows you've been touching yourself today.

"How many times did you touch yourself?" He questions, digging his nose into your neck to smell the remnants of your lotion and perfume.

"Two before I left for university, one during lunch, and two when I got back," you admit between moans as your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

You were late to class because of Coryo's video. Still, your arousal persisted so much that you locked yourself in one of the bathrooms of the university and rubbed your clit till your legs shook with an orgasm. You walked out of the bathroom, ashamed of your behavior, but it got you throughout the rest of the day.

When you got home, you fell on the couch, pressing one of the decorative cushions between your legs. You rocked against it for nearly an hour, edging yourself to give Coriolanus time to get home. The last one was in the shower with the detachable head minutes before he arrived.

"Five times and one in public," he chides with a click of his tongue, "What do I do with you?"

Your confession is music to Coriolanus' ears, but you can't know that. So he delivers five sharp slaps down your spread cunt. He covers the reddening flesh with his hand, putting pressure on it to ease the sting.

"Ow, Coryo," you cry, digging your nails into his thighs where you are barely hanging on.

"You should've come to me. I could've helped you much more than your fingers," he tells you mockingly.

Uncovering your cunt there is a dash of red on your skin. Coriolanus didn't hold back with his slaps. It's hard to explain why, but you like it when he manhandles you like that. He makes you cry just to console you later.

"You're busy," you sniff, hiccuping when he gathers your slick to spread it over the stinging skin.

Coriolanus takes his studies and lab work seriously; you never wish to interrupt him in any way, no matter how many times he reassures you it's okay.

"I'm never too busy for you, darling," he responds, resting his chin on your shoulder. His touch returns to your clit, rubbing it round and round until you're moaning out his name.

Finally, Coriolanus slips his finger into you, giving you the relief you desperately want. Even if it is your pleasure, his fingers are better than yours. They are long and strong and know precisely how to curve to give you the pleasure you seek.

The relief that takes over you is so much that you let your head fall back with your eyes closed. In an instant, the fingers are gone, and another slap is deposited on your sensitive skin.

"Eyes on the mirror," Coriolanus reminds you. He wants you to see how he's the only one that can make you crumble.

His free hand, which had been wrapped like a vice around your waist, comes up to your chest to squeeze your breasts and nipples. His eyes darken as he observes how your supple flesh spills between his fingers.

"Look at how pretty you are," he whispers in your ear as he adds another finger into your dripping cunt.

A sense of bashfulness settles on your chest as you do as he says. You follow his hand as it trails down your sweaty skin, your face and chest flushed because of the heat. He traces your nipples with his fingers, and you watch how they turn hard in response. Next, he touches your stomach, his fingers ghosting your belly button from which he has licked his own cum from.

It's like your body harbors memories of Coriolanus Snow, from the multicolored lovebites in your chest and neck to the thick arousal that coats your thighs. Each one was caused by him, for him.

Sensing your mind is slipping, he lightly taps your thighs, bringing you back to focus on the body he considers so beautiful. He takes his wet fingers out of you and spreads your cunt even farther with them.

He traces your pearl, which is bright red, frustrated from arousal and the constant touching it has endured today. Then, your pussy lips that puff out as blood surges to it.

Coriolanus gathers the drop of slick that hangs from your fleshy pink opening. "See? All beautiful and all mine," he says. Only now does he allow you to turn from the mirror because it's to kiss him.

Remembering why you're in this position, Coriolanus slides two fingers into you, fucking them with precision into your g spot. No more teasing and prolonging.

"It feels so good, Coryo," you whine, holding onto his arm as your hips grind further into his hand.

"It looks good, too," he mutters, hypnotized by the way your cunt swallows his fingers. Not even your nails digging into his arm snaps him away from the pretty sight.

With hooded eyes, you keep looking into the mirror, waiting for the moment Coryo promised you. Coriolanus hand presses down on the spot above your mound. It's the key to make you squirt. His fingers bully your spot more forcefully, feeling your walls clench with an impending orgasm.

"Oh, fuck, C-coryo," you choke out, breathing heavily. It's like an orgasm is coming but so much better than the needy, desperate ones from today. It feels much more fulfilling.

"Relax for me," he prompts, slowing his pace. You're always so fucking tense even as he fucks you senseless.

"Ah, ah, ah," your moans staccato as you near your precipice and tears accumulate in the corner of your eyes.

It's a constant climb where you feel the excitement of nearing the top, and then suddenly, you slide back down. A sudden burst of pleasure consumes you as a gush wets Coryo's fingers and mirror. His fingers whip out and furiously rub your frustrated clit, causing a smaller gush to stream down.

Your mouth is ajar as you gasp, your hands bunching up the fabric of his pants. Your cunt visibly spasms as your orgasm prolongs itself.

"You did it, darling," Coriolanus sweetly says, kissing your cheek as he looks at you adoringly, "How did it feel?"

He touches you all over, spreading the drops of squirt that adorn your thighs. Your legs fall down limply as you relax back onto Coryo. He continues stroking your skin, looking at the beautiful, wet mess he made.

"I-I don't know, there was this just sensation of release like everything left my body," you say between pants as you try and catch your breath.

Coriolanus smirks and hugs you tightly, lost in his own world. It's like the post-orgasmic bliss affected him rather than you.

"Can we try again?" You ask minutes after, feeling the spark reignite by just thinking about the stream of fluid that came out of you.

"Whatever my darling wants," Coriolanus agrees, spanking your ass playfully when you get up from the chair.

You kneel on the floor to pull down his pants and find his leaking cock. Going straight for it, you suck him off like there is no tomorrow, swallowing around him and taking him deep till your nose rubs against his pubic bone.

Coriolanus doesn't allow himself to cum, even if his body screams at him to shoot his load into your warm mouth. Pulling you up from the floor, he pushes you towards the bed. You get on your knees and hands, shaking your ass for him cheekily.

Coriolanus has a feeling that today it will be a quick one. You're both too wound up to prolong this any further. His hand curves over your hip as he pushes his cock through your folds, wetting it. Without a warning, he snaps his hips, stretching your walls.

"Love your cock, Coryo," you moan as he fucks you harshly. "So big and thick and so deep," you mumble, acting cockdrunk.

You bury your head on the sheets, arching your back so your chest presses against the bed as you splutter nonsense. The tension of the day gets to you, and you allow yourself to go dumb on his cock.

"It's all yours, darling," he grunts, gripping your waist to push you back onto his cock. At this point, you're a cocksleeve to him as he chases his release. The sounds of his balls slapping against your clit are loud and obnoxious.

Keeping a steady rhythm, he fucks you until you're fluttering around him again. Coriolanus bends over your back, splaying his hand on your pelvis. He had promised he'd make you squirt again. It works as you drench his cock again, soaking the sheets and his thighs.

"Oh my god," you cry as your legs shake. You would've fallen flat on your face if it hadn't been for Coryo, who holds you up as he continues to push into you.

Tears soak the pillow you're hugging. It's too good. His cock is brushing repeatedly over your spongy spot. You don't want him to stop, ever, but you're so sensitive. It's a push and pull. You want more, but you're unsure if your body is up to it.

In a moment of lucidity, a wave of emotions grabs you and pulls you down. It snaps you out of your trance and hurts your chest. Shame, pleasure, desperation, joy, embarrassment, arousal.

Questions invade your brain. Since when have you been like this, letting yourself be treated this way? How are you not ashamed of yourself? This is not how a lady behaves. You're no better than a whore in a whorehouse. You should be ashamed of yourself.

"Rose!" You cry out with a sob as the shakiness localized in your legs spreads all over your body.

Immediately, Coriolanus stops all movement, startled by the use of the safe word. Your soft cries snap him out of his shock, and he, as gently and carefully as possible, pulls out of you.

Your whole body shakes as you cry, worrying Coriolanus to no end. He questions if he did anything that hurt you but comes up empty-handed.

"Darling, are you okay?" He asks, helping you sit up on the bed. He takes the clean blanket by the end of the bed, covering your body.

"Too-too much. I-I'm sorry," you hiccup, hugging the blanket tighter against you.

Coriolanus carefully respects your private space since he's unsure if you want or need his touch. He sits beside you, though, listening to anything you might need.

Humiliation fills your body. You were the one to ask for more and couldn't handle it, worrying Coryo about something that was not his fault.

"It's okay, nothing to be sorry about," he speaks with the softest voice he can muster, "Do you want me to bring you water?"

"Just hold me," you say as more tears trickle down your face.

So, he does. Coriolanus kisses your temple and runs his hand across your back until your sobs settle. He holds you close and whispers reassuring words in your ear.

You desperately want to tell him it's nothing he did. He wasn't being terribly rough or mean. You loved every moment of tonight until your emotions and unwanted thoughts got the best of you.

In your vulnerable state, the pent-up frustration of the day and the negative emotions you kept locked bubbled up and caused a sensory overload. Even now, you can barely speak, trying to regulate your emotions again.

"Don't go," you hiccup, reaching for his hand when Coryo stands from the bed. Terrified, he believes the same things your brain is feeding you.

"I'm not going anywhere, darling. Just looking for our clothes," he says, squeezing your left hand and kissing your knuckles.

Coriolanus grabs his pants from the floor and slips them on. Digging through the drawers, he finds one of his t-shirts and grabs a pair of your underwear. Your comfort is his priority, and he knows how comforting you find wearing his clothes. He helps you put the garments on, wrapping you back up on the blanket.

Leaning back on the pillows, he pulls you towards him, hugging you to his chest. You hug his middle, burying your head in his neck, falling asleep like that.

He stays awake, feeling the puffs of breath on his neck. Coriolanus hand keeps running up and down your back, under your shirt. It works to comfort himself as well.

You've only used the safe word twice, and both times, you had been doing worse things by far. He had understood twice and had been alert in any case. Today took him off guard, and it scared him.

Coryo debates on waking you the following day. He decides to do it to check how you're doing. You can decide if you want to go to university or not. He will walk you there personally if that is what you choose.

He wakes you by running his hand up and down your arm, softly shaking you out of your slumber, "Darling?"

"Mmm," you groan, your eyes fluttering open. He'd kept the curtains closed so they wouldn't bother you.

"How are you? Do you need anything?" Coriolanus asks, brushing your hair away from your face.

You stay silent momentarily, gauging your mental state, "I'm good. Am I running late?" You ask, sitting up on the bed.

"No, it's still early. Want me to walk you to school?" He asks, watching as you get up and head into the bathroom.

"Please?" You ask, turning to look at him before closing the bathroom door.

"Of course," he nods.

"Coryo, I think I know what happened last night," you speak loudly through the door, not a moment later.

"And what's that love?" He asks, standing by the door.

"I got my period," you say simply.

The blood staining your underwear is the reason you lost yourself last night. Your hormones must've been all over the place yesterday. It explains your sudden breakdown and why you were acting like a bitch in heat before that.

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath. He's glad it's just that and nothing he did. He feels calm now as most of his worry is swept away. "I'll go make breakfast," he tells you before he heads out to the kitchen.

His worry is replaced by disappointment in himself. He lost track of your damn period because he was so busy at the lab. He has to share part of the blame. Ever since he started living with you, he noticed those subtle mood changes you got as your period neared and passed through.

First is the neediness, constantly touching him and asking to be touched. You got freakier when you were ovulating. Then there is the bad mood you get whenever he just as breathes the wrong way or places something where it doesn't belong. You try hiding it and holding back your scoffs, but he notices. Lastly, it's the tears. Your emotions are delicate when this time of the month comes around.

Last year, you got your period around the time of The Hunger Games and couldn't watch them. Tears instantly tracked down your face when you usually don't care. Coriolanus had to record them for you to watch later because you wanted to see everything that was implemented, thanks to him.

Because he recognizes how you get, he took it upon himself to make those days more bearable for you. Not to say he tiptoes around you, but he's gentler, more restrained. He tries not to be too mean. Had he known your period was right around the corner, he wouldn't have teased you today or made you wait for it.

He scolds himself as he pieces the puzzle together. That must've been why you took the sleeping pills the other day. You had an emotional day, and your overthinking mind didn't let you sleep.

Sensing he's kicking himself, you hug Coryo's waist from behind as he places the food on the table. "I love you, Coryo," you say sweetly, pressing a kiss on his spine.

Now, this is more in line with your normal, sweet behavior.

Coriolanus turns around in your embrace, hugging your shoulders and pulling you tight against him, kissing your hairline. "I love you so damn much," he speaks into your hair. "You had me worried last night," he admits, kissing your lips slowly before he lets you go.

"I don't know what happened. One moment, I was alright, and the next…well, you know," you shrug, sitting on the chair Coryo pulls out for you.

"Your emotions got the best of you. I know how that feels," Coriolanus nods, understanding better than anyone how it feels to lose yourself in the moment.

That day in the forest of District 12 will forever haunt him.

There we go! That was the part 2 I promised you! It took an unexpected turn but it felt right to me. Sorry it couldn't be kinkier :(

If you'd like to read more of this pairing you can also read The Mentor. It's a small prequel to this one shot set around three years back when they started dating. That being said The Mentor Pt. 2 is FILTHY.

If you liked it don't hesitate to let me know!

[domreader-headcannon-scenarios]

There's a whole bit about Satan and Sitri not knowing what a dildo is, and whether or not they call it something else in canon I like to imagine that they actually don't have toys in hell and they think it's just a silly human thing, cause if you want pleasure you could just ask for it, who cares.

Cue Ppyong coming back from earth with MC's hitachi wand in his little bag and MC getting evil thoughts.

The demon decides to humor them. Sure, whatever, you can use that little machine on them. They have a little pride about it, joking or not, mentioning how it won't compare to actually touching him, but go ahead, he's curious.

Maybe twenty minutes later and he's trembling, holding on to you like you're a lifeline as you use it on him. You tell him that this is the low setting and they whine.

Ah, this was meant to be a request, but it's kinda long now. If you understand where I'm going then can I ask for something like this to be written for Satan, Lucifer, and Gabriel but for the replaced god au, if you want? If you do decide to write for Gabriel you can make that a separate post if you need to.

I really love this!! (And spoilers but Mc summons dildos infront of Mammon, Satan, Sitri, Marbas, and Foras. None of them know what they were!

So like, I know there ARE sex toys in hell, but they don’t seem to have as many as humans! So that leaves so many thoughts!!

They’d be so sensitive to the vibrations at first…(I have a pastel blue/green one I’m using as reference;) )

-

Satan

Cw: overstim,

Satan lazily watched you prepare the hitachi wand, he was confused as to why you were lubing his dick, shouldn’t you prepare the toy to go inside him? “(M/c)? What does that thing do?” Satan asked in a bored tone.

“It vibrates.”

You turn it on, it’s the lowest setting but the toy is fully charged, so it’s quite strong against Satan’s unprepared manhood. He jumps and hisses as his body adjust to the sensation. You can see him lose focus for a few seconds before he grabs the bed sheets and claws into them. You grin and press it against the tip of his cock, Satan howls, thighs snapping shut around your waist.

“F-fuck! T-that’s strong…” Satan hissed out, trying to regain composure but unable to do so. He’s panting, his heart is racing and he’s positively dripping pre in response to the toy. He moans and rolls his hips forwards, his eyes blurring as he does so.

“Yeah, it’s used as a ‘personal massager’ for humans to get off on their own, or use on their partner like this.” You say calmly, slowly, intentionally pausing to draw out his torture. You were taking your time overstimulating him, it was fun!

“W-well if this is the strongest setting, t-then I have nothing to worry about!” Satan laughs out. Even as he’s clearly blushing, embarrassed and being overstimulated, he’s trying to act like he’s holding his own.

“Oh this is the lowest setting!” You laugh out. Lightly flicking the wand up one more setting. Satan whimper and grabbed your hand, the toy was vibrating so hard he couldn’t even keep his hand still, though he doesn’t tell you to stop.

“W-wait you can’t turn it up like that! He whines, nearly screaming as you press the wand down on his sensitive tip. His hips tremble and you can see the muscles in his stomach convulsing, you have to hold his cock still as it pulsates. He cums in your hands fast. Too bad for him you don’t stop, as his bliss wears off and the overstimulation kicks in, it nearly hurts to feel the wand vibrating in his cock.

Lucifer

Cw: overstim,

Lucifer didn’t think this through, he for some reason thought he could…tone it out? Lucifer upon seeing the wand was bored and laid down, acting like he’s rather sleep than entertain the toy. When you mentioned its intense he dared you to put it on the highest setting.

He thought he was being smart.

Too bad you two have the same brain cell.

As soon as you turned it on, he’s hissing, trying to wiggle away from the toy. His cock actually a quite a bit of pre out almost instantly. He moans and you can see the shock on his face, his eyes black, his iris no longer visible.

“T-turn it down!” He hisses, he’s confused when you don’t do anything, he tries to growl but you press the wand down on the tip of his cock, turning his growl into a whimper. “Turn it down-now!”

You laugh and press the lower button to turn it ‘down’. But nothing happens.

You mean forward and whisper into his ear, he can barely hear you over the buzzing of the wand and his heart racing.

“Lucifer. This IS the lowest setting…”

Lucifer whimpers in frustration and disbelief. This is a joke, you can’t be serious…but he hears the toy clicking, letting him know you’re not lying. He tries to ignore it, but he can almost feel himself going numb from the vibrations and he knows he can’t last long. He trembles and watches the toy, his cock is practically drooling out his seed…it’s pitiful…

Gabriel (Replaced god Au)

Cw: overstim

Gabriel was trembling, the toy wasn’t even on, you haven’t even done much more than stroke him until he was hard. When you place the wand to the tip of his cock, he whimpers.

You flick the toy on, as soon as it turns on he cums. You don’t turn it off, even as his orgasm fades he’s trembling with the toy on. He feels like he can’t stop cuming!

It hurts, but feels so good, he can’t believe…his Lord, His Master is giving him such amazing pleasure! He doesn’t know what he did to deserve it, but…he’s not sure he can handle it!

“P-please my Lord!!” Gabriel whimpers out, he’s desperately holding onto you, he’s kissing your neck, trembling and crying as his all six of his wings spasm behind him, flapping unevenly and nod nearly strong enough to lift either of you up.

“Shhhh….it’s ok.” You shush him. “I’m going to turn it to the next level, ok? This is the first level, there’s six more to go, ok?”

Gabriel trembles and hides his face. “I-I don’t know if can handle all of t-them!” He whimpers out. He hugs you like he’ll fall all the way to Hell if he lets go. “I-I’ll do anything for you…”

He bites his lip trying to ensure the vibrations. It hurts….but it feels amazing! He has to do this! He has to prove to you he can do this! H-he owes you everything!

-

[peachsukii]

Hollow Heart { chapter 3 - choke }

『♡』 pro-hero fem!reader x pro-hero bakugo ╰➤ ꒰ pro-heroes au | friends to lovers ꒱ ♡ katsuki bakugo masterlist ♡

summary: you have zero clue where you are after your abduction. white walls, medical instruments, the smell of rust, and hazy memories are all that keep you company during your time in the mystery lab. the horrors that lurk between these steel walls are going to give you nightmares for an eternity. all you can think about is getting home to your best friends and family, back to the life you sorely missed. tags & warnings: mentions of blood/violence, eventual & mild smut, kidnapping/abduction, experimentation, physical & psychological torture, PTSD, implied/referenced self harm, cursing, talks of trauma | angst with happy ending, emotional hurt/comfort, regret, mutual pining, friends to lovers, insomnia, eventual romance a/n: To all of you who have stopped to read this fic, thank you so much! This was my jump back into writing after almost a decade. I appreciate every single one of you!! ꒰ Ao3 version | word count; 13,885k as of ch.3 ꒱ Masterlist 『♡』 this fic has a playlist! ✩

CHAPTER THREE: CHOKE

Day One (?)

Metallic rust.

That's all you could taste when you awoke from your drugged slumber, the world stuck in a haze as you hummed in discontent. 

Where the hell am I?

The thought muddled in your head as you attempted to gauge your surroundings. The numbness in your limbs from earlier had been replaced with a new sensation - your body feeling too heavy for your bones to carry. 

Did someone strap a weight to your shoulders and ankles? 

You rotate your head sluggishly to see an all white and gray room, one singular door directly ahead of where you sat. There's a metal table in the corner with a few machines - you can't seem to determine what their purposes are. On your left, a surgical instruments table sits ominously, a few bloody bandages and an empty syringe splayed across it.

There's a sudden pulse in your head that rattles your brain, the train of thought you had derailing instantly. Glimpses of memories begin to spark in your mind - Bakugo's anguished expression as you drifted out of consciousness, an unknown number of hands removing your hero suit and belongings, cold steel of an operating table touching your bare skin, the ungodly amount of poking and prodding of your delicate skin with needles of all shapes and sizes, and a glass enclosure.

How are you remembering all of this if you weren't even conscious for the majority of it?

As if to answer your silent question, a doctor enters the room - what you presume is a doctor, anyways, by the looks of his white surgeon coat and stethoscope around his neck. 

"Good morning. Would you prefer the use of your hero name or first name?" He asks, paging through the file on his clipboard.

What the fuck?

"Uhh...hero name?" you slur as you answer, voice cracking with exhaustion. You're not able to think straight in the moment and have zero adrenaline to be combative. 

"Noted. How are you feeling?" His tone is dry, like every other doctor you've met in your life.

"Shitty."

He quirks an eyebrow. "Can you elaborate?"

God, this is so annoying. Why the hell are you being interrogated?

"M'everything feels...funny. Heavy but also...fuzzy?"

He scribbles down notes on a few different pages, flipping back and forth through the stack on his clipboard. 

"Is it my turn t'ask a question?" you quip, snickering at your own request. 

He approaches you hastily and slaps the ever-loving shit out of you. You let out a sharp yelp, the sting of his palm radiating on your cheek. 

"Subjects only speak when spoken to."

A chill runs down your spine when he uses the term "subjects." Just how many of you are there?

"Return her to containment," he orders, signaling to someone behind you before turning to exit the room. Another man enters as the doctor leaves, dressed in white scrubs with mint green latex gloves. He approaches you, latching a pair of handcuffs around your wrists while turning off a device nearby.

"C'mon, move it," he scolds as he yanks on the chain of the handcuffs. You stumble forward to your feet, wobbling on jelly legs as he's dragging you behind him. Looking down, your wrists were littered with bruises in varying shades of yellow, purple and green. Had they cuffed you earlier and roughhoused you? A few raw spots on your arm lead you to believe they had taken blood from you at some point, too. You have zero inclination to how long you've even been wherever the hell you are - anything is possible.

The mystery worker drags you down multiple corridors of dimly lit metal hallways and various steel lacing the walls. There were no windows in sight as you maneuvered your way around the labyrinth of never-ending laboratories, holding cells and various medical exam rooms. He stops in front of a frosted glass cell, swiping a keycard in front of the mechanism on the door. It opens with a high pitched beep and he pushes you inside, whipping you around by the shoulders to face him. He undoes your restraints before slamming the glass door shut, locking it with another beep of the keycard. 

With the silence comes the realization of your current predicament, crashing down around you like a tidal wave. It's intense, the surge of emotion that cascades through your entire body as if someone flipped a switch inside you. 

One lingering thought pulls at your heartstrings - Bakugo's face as you slipped away from him, his panic and desperation as he failed to save you.

And to top it all off, you told him you loved him. 

In the heat of the moment, it felt right. But now? It feels selfish. You admitted your feelings just in time for them to be ripped away from him. You don't even know if you're going to see him ever again. What if you die down here?

Oh. 

What if you die down here?

Alone and scared.

Away from your family, friends...Katsuki, your best friend - the secret love of your life. 

You never got to kiss him, properly express your affection for him - the experience was stolen away from you.

You're left to your own devices inside an unknown cell, blubbering on the tiny cot in the corner, frustration burning in your chest as you're heaving sob after sob. It triggers something in you never felt before - an unfamiliar violent rage. Launching up from the cot, you snivel as you face the wall and punch it with all the energy you can gather. 

"Fuck!" You wail, failing to recollect the memory that your still under the effect of the quirk suppressant. The sound of your knuckles smashing against the steel wall reverbs as it sends lightning bolts of pain up your arm, dissolving as the adrenaline makes its way through your entire being.

And then something terrifying stirs in your guts as the blood drips from your knuckles onto the floor.

The pain was satisfying.

Day Nine

Days have passed, that much you knew, but how many? That answer remained unclear, no matter how many times you begged various workers around the compound. No one ever answered you with words, just violence. You’ve lost count how many times you’ve been slapped, kicked, and pushed around for engaging in minimal conversation. There’s other prisoners here, too, but no one is allowed to communicate. You see each other sometimes in the hallways but never long enough to speak, even if you wanted to. It was like everyone was a ghost, all haunting the same burial ground.

Shockingly enough, they keep you fed and allowed one shower per day. It's a confusing system, considering how inhumane things have proven to be, but you're convinced it's to keep their subjects "healthy" for their fucked up experiments. 

Your schedule consisted of a hellish rotation of broken sleep and taking whatever drugs they forced upon you. The amount of times you were pulled from your cell varied for their trials that they had planned for the day. Whether it be once, or four times, you never knew how many hours you'd be stuck under surveillance in a catatonic state. 

You desperately tried to turn your emotions off to protect your psyche at any chance you could. As much as you hated to admit defeat, the endless stress and over dosage of unknown substances was more than enough to keep you underwater, sinking further toward rock bottom with each passing moment.

A guard stalks up to your cell and bangs on the glass to grab your attention.

“Y/H/N, your cooperation is needed for test 15. Up and at ‘em.” 

Your body is burdened with all the medical trauma you've endured over the last few days, slowing your pace to a sluggish limp as you make your way toward the cell door. 

"Hurry it up, subject. We ain't got all day!" he shouts, startling you with his sudden command.

Fuck this place.

Day Fourteen

"Test 23, Y/H/N - Forced kinetic energy release. Begin testing."

You don't have time to react before the IVs hooked to you begin to force various fluids into your veins. The competing sensations flood through you in rough currents - hot, cold, burning, stinging in cycles. A well-known tunnel vision begins to cloud your sight as you squirm in the steel throne you've been restrained to. You're body is on the verge of passing out when an intrusive illusion appears before you.

"Hello? Sweetie?" 

Your mother appears in front of you, outstretching a phantom hand to touch your shoulder. 

What the fuck...mom? How is she here right now?

"Are you coming home?" she asks, her face settled in a deadpan expression. Her voice resembles a computerized AI, as if someone is programming her dialog.

"Mom?" you speak aloud, frightened by how real this looks and feels.

"Honey? Are you coming home? Katsuki and Izuku need you."

"Mom, I'm right here. What do you mean?" You're becoming more and more disturbed as she continues to drone on the same question.

"When are you coming home? Katsuki and Izuku need help."

She's not real.

She's not really here - this shadow knows nothing. 

Snap the fuck out of it, they must have drugged you with a hallucinogenic. 

But why? What the hell does this have to do with quirk suppressants? 

"You're not here," you growl, screwing your eyes shut, refusing to entertain anymore of this apparition of your mother. 

"Oh, but honey, I am!"

What?

A force squeezes at your throat, cutting off an anxious breath as it leaves your lips. You scramble to grasp at the hallucination, forgetting you're trapped in the testing chamber and can't move. Your hands are flexing repeatedly under the shackles as energy is collecting in your palms, unable to control the emotional response racing through every nerve in your body.

They must have not given you the suppressant...or mixed it with something more deadly. 

"No!" You croak, your scream choked out by the pressure on your neck. 

Your vision turns white, a sudden surge of energy expelling from your palms, pulsing intensely over and over again. You can feel the impact against the chair beneath you, the sound of shredding metal filling your ears as kinetic energy is forcibly pouring out of you in succession.

"Cease testing, inject sedation."

The pain in your hands dissipates immediately upon hearing the doctor's orders, followed by the prick of a thick needle penetrating the crook of your neck. The white cast in your vision fades, reality returning to you as your eyes glass over. One of the scientist walks around the chair and stands before you with another goddamn clipboard. 

"Y/H/N, please describe how you feel and what you saw."

That familiar fire returns in your chest from your first night here - the aggressive urge to lash out. Was this a side-effect of whatever serum they've been loading you up with?

"Fuck you," you snarl, lip quivering as you're attempting to bury the ferocity thrashing inside you, begging to be set free.

He approaches you and snatches your cheeks in a rough hold. His grip tightens around your jaw as he repeats his question. 

"One more time - Y/H/N, describe how you feel and what you saw."

The flame burns hotter as your fists are trembling, the emotion becoming overbearing.

Before you can stop yourself, your palms shoot up into an offensive position, sparking with the remaining collective of kinetic energy as it bursts forward, striking the scientist and sending him tumbling backward. The bonds on the arms of the chair must have broken and freed your hands during the test - you didn't even notice until you attacked the guard. 

Shit.

"Quirk handcuffs and solitary - stat," orders the doctor over the surround system. 

The door to the room slams open and three more scientists scramble inside as they're rushing to surround you. One shoves you down harshly into the metal chair, bouncing your head off the back of it. 

Black…everything goes black.

When you come to, you’re in a new room that you don’t recognize. It’s different from the one you’ve called “home” since your arrival. There’s a mirror in the cell they’ve thrown you in and you catch a glimpse of yourself for the first time in...you don't know how long. The reflection shows you someone you don’t recognize - the girl staring back at you isn’t you. It looks like you, but her vicious predatory grin is bone chilling. This doppelgänger glares daggers at you, tilting her head menacingly as she mouths, “get out of me.”

You throw a punch at the mirror and shatter it as a blood curdling scream erupts from deep in your gut. Stumbling to the floor, you lay on the cold concrete and stare into the blank space of the solitary prison cell. You can’t even will yourself to cry.

I wanna go home…I wanna go home… 

The thought recycled on loop, taunting the strength of your mental state.

I want to go home to mom, to Izuku, to Katsuki…anywhere but here. 

You need to survive...

No. You will survive. 

This will not kill you. 

Day Twenty Five

"Y/H/N, we are going to proceed with a psychological evaluation."

Like you had a choice in the matter.

“Can you describe your experience from test 23?”

“Horrible,” you groan, the vision of your mother flowing to the forefront of your memory. “I saw a hallucination of someone that could physically touch me.”

You’ve learned in your time here not to ask further questions - answer as plainly as possible and move on. 

The scientist clacked the keys on her laptop obnoxiously. “And it felt real?”

Unfortunately, yes.

“Yes.” You turn your eyes to the floor as she proceeds to type whatever nonsense into the database. She retrieves a clipboard from the bag slung on the back of her chair, sliding it across the table to you. 

"Can you confirm this report is accurate from your initial intake?"

You begin to scan over the form when the words "if you want to get out of here" catch your attention.

Y/N

Y/H/N

Subject 57 - Kinetic Energy

Do not speak or react this note, until specified, if you want to get out of here.

...What?

I'm an undercover hero from the United States. I've been here for six months, waiting for an officially ranked hero to come through the facility. I haven't been able to leave since my arrival and communication has been cut off from my agency. You're the first non-civilian they've captured. 

Blink four times if you had a cellphone on you when you were taken. 

You look up at her and blink four times - she shoots her eyes back down to the form, signaling you to continue reading. 

Can you contact outside help? Could be the agency you belong to or co-workers.

Tap the table twice for yes and three times for no.

You tap the table twice, pretending to point to specific information on the page your reading. If you could get access to your cellphone, you might just be able to send your location to initiate a rescue mission.

"Thank you, Y/H/N," she says, grabbing the clipboard and returning it to her bag. "I'll take you back to your cell, follow me."

Following the standard protocol that you're used to, she slaps a pair of handcuffs around your wrists before exiting the room. Once you reach your cell, she steps inside with you, removing the cuffs and motioning for you to come closer.

"I can look in the evidence chamber for your phone, more than likely it's in there with the other belongings after your decontamination process. Workers aren't allowed any communication devices, but they keep all of the captor's personal items guarded in one place." 

You don't have time to ask her all the questions you're dying to know the answers to - how'd she get here, how did the USA know of the lab, what her undercover work consisted of, why no  one came to find her...a plethora of unknowns. 

But right now? She's willing to help you, that's all that matters.

"If you can conjure up enough energy with your quirk, can you charge it?" she asks faintly. 

You nod in response, confirming the answer silently. Similarly to your classmate from UA, Kaminari, you were able to charge devices by converting kinetic energy into an electronic wavelength - a trick Eraserhead taught you back in Junior year. 

"Here's the plan - In five days, I'll be the guard on night shift. I'll give you an empty shot of the suppressant to make it look like a realistic dosage. Once the others have dissipated to their quarters, I can lead you to the evidence stash and let you rummage through the bins while I keep watch. You grab the phone, I'll hide it in my uniform, bring you back to your cell and toss it to the floor. I'll patrol the hall while you get things set up and make contact with another hero or your agency."

She peers out of the glass cell and sees another guard making his way down the hall. 

"Don't say a word. I'll be back in 5 days, and I'm sorry for what I'm about to do," she apologizes as she cracks you on the jaw with a hearty slap.

You know she had to fake it in front of the other guard to keep her cover - it still hurt like hell.

She shuts the door with a noisy clang of the door's mechanism, a high pitched beep locking it in place. 

And thus, the countdown to freedom begins.

Five days until you finally make contact with the outside world - with someone.

Someone? No, you already knew who you were sending the information to - like it wasn't obvious who you'd choose to signal for help.

Day Twenty Nine

You've come this far, you can't back down now. 

All you had to do was make your way back to the evidence room with the undercover hero lady, find your phone, and sneak back to your holding cell. 

And force your quirk to activate. 

...and not get caught.

The suspense of the plan succeeding was enough to keep you on edge as the nightly sedations were distributed. She appeared, just like she promised, and administered a fake injection to your arm. You put on a front for the other guards, fooling them into thinking you were properly medicated. 

The plan's been set in motion - she'll be back in a few hours.

Day Thirty

You could feel the liberation in your grasp - the victory of sneaking your phone back to your cell filling you with exhilaration. All you had to do was wait for lights out to attempt your escape plan. You have no idea how deep the lab sits under Sector 42 and if you'll even be able to obtain a signal in your cell.

Focusing all of your willpower into the tip of your pointer finger, you hold it closely as sparks of energy softly crackle into the charging port of the phone. 

Just a minute to charge, that's all I need. Enough battery to turn it on, send a call and a text and turn it back off.

You're beginning to feel lightheaded as your phone successfully powers on with a soft vibration and the logo appearing on screen. 

Holy shit, it worked!

Hurriedly, you flip the silent switch before notifications begin to pour into the device, catching up on all the missed communications over the last month. Multiple calls, text messages, e-mails, the standard amount that you expected. The battery hovered at 7% and the time read 3:05AM. You glance at the date underneath the time - it's been an entire month since you disappeared. 

A whole goddamn month.

There's no time to spiral over that right now!

Hunched over behind your cot, you proceed to open your messages to keep your plan on track. You're not shocked by the amount of missed texts from everyone; Midoriya, Jiro, Uraraka, Kirishima, Mina...and Bakugo.

You had 127 unread texts from him, the last coming in less than ten minutes ago.

One hundred and twenty seven.

You freeze, a mixture of guilt, excitement, and panic surging through you. Shoving all that down - you've gotten too good at doing that - you clicked on the thread, catching the last dozen or so of his messages.

[2:45AM] i don’t want to say this in a fucking text of all things [2:45AM] especially under these circumstances  [2:46AM] but i’m scared i’ll never get to say it to you [2:46AM] i’m a fucking idiot for not telling you sooner [2:47AM] god dammit [2:48AM] i love you [2:48AM] like a stupid fucking amount [2:49AM] i convinced myself i didn’t and that you wouldn’t feel the same [2:50AM] and when you come home [2:50AM] i’ll tell you every damn day to make up for all the times i didn’t [2:51AM] that’s a promise [2:52AM] i love you lite-brite

Tears are silently falling from your eyes, wide with astonishment at the words you're reading from him. There's no way this is real - you've got to be strung out from the quirk-drugs they've forced upon you. A delayed side effect of some sort? They've given you delusions in the past, it's not that farfetched. 

He convinced himself not to love you? He's always loved you?! 

He said 'I love you,' twice.

Twice!

You don't have time to read the rest as much as you're dying to catch up on all the potential sweet nothings he's sent to you over the last few weeks, but you do have time for one thing.

Before you chicken out, you click the "Call" button next to his name. The phone suddenly feels like a cinderblock in your hand as you shakily hold it to your ear. You think he's not going to answer until you hear faint rustling sounds on the other end of the line.

"H-hello?! Y/N!?" You can't say anything - your body straightens, goosebumps covering you from head to toe. All of the misery you were holding on to, the trauma and terror, evaporated at the sound of those two words. Those two measly words wrapped around you and offered a warmth you haven't known in weeks.

You click the "End Call" button, hating that you probably gave him a heart attack, but you selfishly needed to hear his voice. 

Before you forget your initial plan, you send a pinned location to Bakugo. You know he'll come running - blasting, rather - as soon as he can pinpoint exactly how to break into the lab. You have zero doubts that he can't figure it out.

[3:11AM] *location sent*

One last thing for good measure? You send an orange heart emoji. 

Right as you're about to scroll up and read his past messages, your phone powers down with the empty battery symbol displaying on screen.

Your heart is racing, threatening to beat out of your chest as his words reverberate in your mind. 

I love you like a stupid fucking amount.

You can't help but chuckle at the sentiment - that's so Bakugo of him to say. 

At least your plan was a success and you were able to accomplish the small goal. Now all you have to do is play the waiting game - knowing Bakugo, and presumably Midoriya? That won't be long at all.

You lay back in your cot, smiling for the first time in ages, relishing in your triumph. 

And for the first night since you've arrived, a peaceful rest welcomes you with open arms. You dream of home, running in the park under the glow of the sun and finding Bakugo under the shade of a nearby tree, waiting patiently for you in the summer breeze. 

next up, we wrap back to the boys as they plan their rescue mission! and they're not going alone as they recruit their closest friends in their crazy plan to get you back. and don't worry, it won't be easy. tags: @bakugouswaif @k1tk4tkatsuki @bells2319 @st0nedbitch @deftonianfr ✩ if you’d like to be tagged when updates are posted, message/comment to be added! ✩

[sashi-ya]

HUNT YOU DOWN, EAT YOU ALIVE izumo haruichi x f! reader. voyeurism 「+18」

⋆ requested by: anon: congratulations on 8k followers my dear <3 how about haruichi w a f!reader + voyeurism. i’ve a feeling he’s secretly kinda freaky under that neat little facade ⋆tw: mdni. explicit smut. voyeuristic haurichi. masturbation. desperate to fuck you. ends up doing it on the dark ⋆wc: 1,7K // event masterlist

Mint locks cover spots of his eyes, those who watch the drops of sweat drip down your neck, down your spine.

He is always there; when you train, supporting you from the dark. When you sleep, and when you shower, that’s what he desires… to observe your hands going up and down your waist, with your hair getting wet, and your flesh purified.

But Haruichi -thinks he- is decent. He just likes to watch, not -at least until now- become a stalker.

Oh, but dear Mr. Izumo… are you really that sure?

The heat is unbearable. Your hair tie snaps.

“Damn it!” you hiss, being this hot under scorching sun with your hair down seems like torture.

“Have it ~” Haruichi mumbles, presenting before your eyes a sacred black elastic.

What kind of miracle is this?

“Ah… thank you Izumo-san! I will give it back as soon as we get a shower” you happily exclaim, as the relief device reaches your fingers. And, soon enough, puts your hair up in a pony tail.

Haruichi acts cool. Though, the imagery of you putting your hair up makes him thankful for his family creation; Izumo tecs suits don’t show erections.

He feels deeply ashamed, however, of sexualizing every step you take.

You, on the other hand, can’t think of anything else besides how good he looks with his hair down. There is no guilt in wanting the same most women around want; Haruichi Izumo is the most eligible bachelor. Not only he is hot and strong, but also he is the future heir of Izumo Tecs.

Hot and rich. Be mine, Izumo-sama.

In any case, even if his family business might be able to create it very soon, Haruichi isn’t able to read your mind. Your façade, innocent and tired from training can only make him even more guilty.

“You can keep it for as long as you want, (Name)-san” he says, swallowing with his throat dry after you squeezed his hand in friendly manner.

You give him a sweet smile, turning around to follow suit your Captain’s orders; being the Tachikawa base still under construction you have been transferred to a different one so you are all still learning about the installations.

Haruichi stands there, watching you join the group of women officers. The way your body looks with the suit on, makes him wanna rip him. His palm itches to squeeze, to slap your ass. His fingers, desperate, wish to be holding your waist. His teeth, crazy to be buried on your back flesh.

“Get a grip, Haruichi!” “I’m just tired…”

The sunset came faster than expected, and a night sky full of stars covered the whole nation. With no Kaiju alert, every officer had the chance to have a good meal as well as refreshing showers before sleep.

But there were a couple of recruits whose eyes despite being closed, couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t that their bodies weren’t tired, indeed they actually were even more than that… but their brains couldn’t help it; both had each other images burned in the back of their minds.

A walk around the base would do; a canned iced coffee from that old machine will help with the heat. Caffeine never made you less sleepy anyway.

You realize that you lied to him; that black tie is now resting on your right wrist… You didn’t give it back. You smile discovering it still there. Your left index passing under, pulling a little bit from the elastic only to release it after. A tingling sensation invades your flesh, wishing that to be his hands squeezing your wrist to pin you down for a kiss.

Allowed to walk around in short shorts due to the heat, you put a show for two pair of eyes that bleed desire from the dark. Like a twist of fate, his emerald irises met your beautiful self in the middle of a dark hall of a still unknown new base.

Haruichi stands still; he is -or think he is- aware you aren’t of his presence. A debate of stormy qualities takes place inside of him; should he watch you, should he stalk you?

“Isn’t that a little bit on the criminal side, Haruichi?!” he repeats to himself. But he also can’t stop following the line of your bare legs, how those short shorts hug every inch of tasteful meat, how your now still a little wet hair falls on your back… and that tank top, that so shamefully allows your nipples to ghost through.

Haruichi bites his lips to the point of turning them white from the missing blood flow on them. Haruichi pulls from his front locks. Little physical reactions to a much-deserved punishment as he keeps on looking, as now his shorts do show an unstoppable hardness.

He looks at you play with his hair tie; he enjoys the way shadows cast on your profile as you drink that iced coffee… that weak white light coming from the vending machine reflects right in all your curves.

“If I were a bad man; If I were a sick bastard…” he susurrus. Haruichi is not, he won’t hurt you…

And you know that, but you want him to be bad; you want Haruichi to be sick… Because you’ve seen him, because you know he is there. But he doesn’t know, he doesn’t really know…

A drop, and suddenly a trail of iced coffee drizzles your tank top. Like those summer contest of wet t-shirts, you act dumb. Men are simple, men are addicted to shitty porn coded depictions.

Taking advantage of that weak spot light coming from the bending machine you show how much of your breasts are showing through now a completely shear fabric.

“Shit!” you whisper, loud enough for him to listen. Your palms graze against your chest, helping your nipples become harder. Acting like you are -stupidly- cleaning the stains off your body, you push Haruichi to a certain extent you are not sure how unhealthy might be.

Him, thinking his hideout is perfect, fights against the need of his hand reaching his crotch. Relief, I beg you please… give. me. some. relief…

He might not notice, but he definitely can be heard. Accelerated breathing, on the verge of panting. A hand over his shorts, already stain in precum. Desperate, Izumo Haruichi, has fallen.

You take the hair tie off your wrist and use it to tie your tank top up, right under your boobs. Low short shorts, belly exposed, nipples the shade of your lips protruding so tempting, casting shadows as you turn to full show yourself towards his way.

Haruichi’s hand going up and down, pumping his dick. Hungry, aching, yearning for his sticky palm to be your insides.

Your hips, moving softly side to side, like dancing to the melody of his huffs and “nghs”. Walking so slowly, almost deadly sedated pace towards him.

“Izumo-san, you like watching me? Do you enjoy this? Spying on me? Getting off on me while I’m not watching?” you purr, coming closer and closer to his hideout.

He doesn’t answer, but should he do it? Haruichi knows he’s gone too far, but can he stop it? can he stop relieving himself if your kissable lips ask him those things? Can he lie to you saying he doesn’t like what he sees?

“Tell me, Haruichi-kun… You enjoy touching yourself to this?” you ask, playing straight with your breasts; lifting slowly the wet coffee-stained shirt.

“I do, I do… I do...” he answers back, or maybe he growls. Like a beast, him losing everything for a drop of pleasure.

You scoff, letting the darkness of a training room in the middle of the night. Haruichi’s hand snatches you, covering your mouth with it as he pulls you inside.

“As much as I enjoy watching you, I much rather fuck you right here (Name)” he whispers right in your ear from behind. He has his hand pressed on your lower belly, pinning your back against his chest and sex.

“As much as I enjoy spying on you, to see your body from afar… I much rather have your skin all for me…”

You hum in consent, grazing your ass against his hardness. Him takes advantage of your little dance, humping right over your black shorts. He most probably wish to leave stains of his pace.

He turns you around when he is over with a dry humping -that’s above all anything but dry- that left him almost on the verge of climax once again. His lips clash with yours, a kiss done in the dark, a kiss that leaves you trembling from your waist down.

A kiss that becomes two and three, and your ass sitting right on a bench that’s most often used for training.

“You know, I just need to fuck you right here. I promise I will give you everything after, just let me fuck you deeper. Now…”

“Please, do… Haruichi-kun”

You are completely ok with his desperate ways; there will be time for foreplay… now you need him deep, oh so deep inside.

In total darkness, perhaps a faint reflection of the hall filters through, he pulls your shorts down. Not even the time to pull them completely off, as you feel one of the legs tangling on your ankle.

His fingers get absolutely covered with your juices, of a dripping wet sex desperate to be used. A few ups and downs, and some fingering took him to finally get you ready.

Oh, the image of his locks framing his face in between darkness, how they messy stuck to his forehead and temples covered in sweat…

A classic missionary will do for this, he is so well trained. Your legs are spread wide, the flowy white shirt of him tucked under his chin. Your hands land on sculpted abs, and then nails carve strongly on his forearms as he finally slides it in, raw and deliciously breaking you in half…  

It is by far ironic how he didn’t actually need to see to be able to touch and enjoy your body... when Haruichi is just a little voyeuristic man!

[gaycrittercentral]

Welp it’s not Halloween anymore (and actually these pictures are from last year hkkhljhl) but who give a shit y'all wanna see my goofy lil Sam costume :D if you were here for my Halloween stream then you already saw this but if not then LOOKIT MY SUIT BOY

Fun fact, I made all this last year and meant to post it then but I was just too lazy whoops. So I'm tryin to do better this time around, lmaoooo. Anyway yeah! Samb costume!! If you wanna hear how I made some of the elements for this and gathered up the rest, feel free to check out my ramblings under the cut :Dc

This was such a fun project. A lot of elements were of course just staples of businesswear, like I found the suit jacket at H&M and the pants at Target (and hemmed them because I love men's pants but they don't love my short-ass legs), but some parts were a bit more complicated. The hat, for example, I also found at Target, but it had the wrong kind of band, so I just took that off and hand sewed on a length of wide black ribbon in its place. I ain't no milliner or haberdasher or what have you but I feel like it came out pretty ok! And the ears were an element that I figured would be a fun addition lol, they are made of fleece I believe? I forget. I gave them a bit of soft stuffing so they're basically two soft pillows, and then safety-pinned them into the inner brim of the hat--that way I can look like a normal person if I ever decide to wear the hat in public lmao.

The tie was an absolute delight to work on. And also torture. Y'know, kind of a 'why not both' moment. I ended up reverse engineering a tie I already had and cannibalizing its inner fabric to make the new one, since I knew I wasn't going to wear the original. The new tie is made with a silky blue fabric that isn't silk that I don't remember what it is because I have a sponge for a brain. Sorry ^^; But basically I replaced the original outer part of the tie with my new fabric and sewed her up by hand (it's not really a machine job as far as I can tell), then painted on the stripes with watered down black fabric paint. I had hoped that watering it down would prevent it from making the fabric stiff, but that didn't end up working because it required so many layers to be opaque, oof. There's probably better ways to go about it, so if you're making your own Sam tie it's worth it to do some more research! Plus, they do sell regular blue ties out there that you could paint. I'm just insane. And tbh I wish I had just bought one but at least I can say I've made a tie now lmaoooo

And I suppose the last element of this is the paper bag Max puppet! I love him so dearly, he was a delight to make ^^ I'd tell you how to make him but why do that when obviously I learned from the original? Make sure to put one in your car ok it's really important

God I love this comic. And I also dearly dearly love how faithfully they adapted it in the cartoon <3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Anyway that's it that's all I got!! Also because I've never worn this thing out of the house it doesn't have shoes to go with, I just got some brown socks. I figure it fits with Sam as a shoe-hating person lmaooo. ok that's all bye thanks for looking hope y'all had a happy Halloween!!!!

[matryosika]

Day 11: Fucking machine + Overstimulation + Multiple orgasms with Chan

Wordcount — 1276 words

Includes — (Mild) sadist soft dom!Chan; dirty dialogues, overstimulation, use of toys (fucking machine, dildo), squirting.

Author's note — Love, love, love Chan as a sucker for pain, but not necessarily of it being inflicted on him. I also love picturing him as the kind of man who talks sweetly to you when he is ruining you, so this shows pretty much it. I hope you all like it, and please remember that english is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in advance!

There's nothing innocent about Chan.

Nor the heart-warming smile he offered you the night you two met, nor the way he is holding your hand at times like these even has a pinch of innocence in them.

“One more,” he coos, pushing away the hair sticking to the sides of your face with sweat. “I know you can give me one more”.

A pleasure dom, it’s exactly the label he used on himself when he first revealed to you his preferences. It was all about giving, about making his partner feel good, about driving them to the edge of insanity only to bring them back to reality with an overwhelming sensation of pleasure. 

“Chan,” you exhale, head crestfallen while your cries are drowned by the sound of the machine. “Chan, Chan, Chan”.

“I’m right here,” he tells you, thumb caressing your hand while his dark eyes admire the scene. The lewd noises your cunt makes when it sucks the dildo right inside, and the way you squirm and tremble it’s something he is not going to forget easily.  “I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here”. 

“Too much,” you cry, lifting your face to meet up his gaze; there's a tad of concern in it, but it is nowhere near the amount of lust they hold. “Hurts”.

“You know I can make it stop,” his available hand caresses your cheek while the other one squeezes yours tightly, a romantic gesture in the middle of such a corrupt moment. “Say the word and I will”.

Chan knows you are nowhere near your limits to stop, and he knows that if you were really done with everything you would just say so. But there is always something enticing in reminding you that you are the one in control, the one who —with a single word— can put an end to the moment and still not do it. 

“No,” you whine, squeezing his rough hand even harder. “Can take more”. 

Chan laughs softly, wholeheartedly. Nothing makes him feel more satisfied than when you bear all the pain he inflicts on you, when you thank him over and over again for ruining you, for removing every single coherent thought engraved in your brain with a couple of hours of overstimulation.

Because things always unfold like this —you, texting him in the middle of the night, asking if you can come over to his playground, if he is in the mood to help you destress.

And every time, Chan accepts willingly.

“You’re doing good so far,” he praises you, lifting your chin with his digits to make eye contact with you. “Taking everything so well, you are making me proud”.

A shy smile escapes through your lips but it is quickly replaced with a grimace of pain when his hand lands flat on your clit, the sting feeling sending shivers down your spine and making your toes curl, “Fuck, Chan!” 

“Come for me,” his hoarse voice resonates near your right ear, his breath caressing your sweaty skin makes you feel a tingly sensation on your neck. “Show me how much you enjoy having your cunt fucked”.

There’s nothing he loves more then being the one fucking you —absolutely nothing compares to the thrill of the intimacy between you two, no machines nor toys involved. But tonight he felt like pleasuring and torturing you in ways he knows his body isn't capable of.

You’ve been laying on your back with your legs spread and a machine thrusting a dildo in and out of your for hours, making you come and cream for more times than Chan remembers now. All he has done is to be by your side during all this time, holding your hand and planting wet pecks on your forehead, praising you and comforting you through it.

There’s nothing innocent about Chan, but even his sadistic side has a certain tenderness to it.

“Again,” you beg in between cries, eyes fluttering to where the toy and you meet —the machine fucks you easily, the dildo all slippery and sticky from how much you’ve come around it. “Do it again, please”.

Although you didn't say exactly what, Chan knows what it is that you want. So he indulges you by slapping your pussy one more time, focusing especially on your swollen clit that pulsates visibly in anticipation. 

“Ngh-” you swallow thickly and buck your hips against the toy, your hands gripping the bed sheets underneath you, “shit”. 

“I know baby,” Chan coos, the empathy in his voice contrasting with the cruelty of his touch. “Feels good, yeah?”

You can hardly answer because you are too focused on your upcoming climax, one that's starting to build up inside your guts and that it's threatening to wreak havoc.

“Too intense,” you breath, heart racing at a thousand miles per hour in anticipation of the ecstasy you are about to experience. “Can’t stop- making a mess”. 

“Don’t worry about the mess,” he purrs, kissing your forehead one more time. “Worry about satisfying me and giving me what I want”. 

The next time Chan touches you, it’s not with a sharp slap but rather with two of his fingertips, rubbing your hardened clit to the pace of the machine fucking your pussy. He knows you well enough to realize that that’s what you are missing, that his touch is the only thing that can make you come. 

“Chan!,” you cry out, moving your hips in circles while you try to get the most stimulation from both him and the dildo. It hurts, but that pain is what triggers your orgasm. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Don’t hold back,” he murmurs, fingers expertly rubbing your clit. “Let all the neighbors know you are having an amazing time with me, will you?” 

You bite your lower lip and shut your eyes tightly while your back arches against the bed. You try to close your legs around Chan’s wrist, your body instinctively moving away from the stimulation, but he doesn’t allow it to.

He holds you firmly in place with his palm against your lower abdomen, his other hand bringing you closer to the highest peak of climax. You try to hold as much of it as you can, but you fail miserably —the satin bed sheets turn a darker color when you squirt all over them, shaking pathetically while you make a mess all over again, just like your previous orgasms.

“Too much?” he asks you, smearing your fluids along your slit. Your body jolts at even the slightest touch, and he knows he has to be very careful right now if he doesn’t want to cause you any discomfort. 

“No,” you gasp with shortness of breath, throat dry and heartbeats resonating loudly even through your eardrums, “so- good”. 

The machine keeps on working the dildo with back and forth motion, but your body feels so numb that you can hardly take it into account. Your hazy gaze focuses on Chan, who’s kneeling right next to you with one of his hands caressing your hair while the other massages your thighs, deciding that you’ve had too much of everything tonight. 

“Was I helpful?” he asks you, moving your body away from the machine. You whine when you feel the dildo going out of you, not used to the sensation of not having your pussy filled with something because of the last hours.

“Always,” you exhale, cupping his face with both your hands when he leans to give you a kiss. “I really needed this. Thank you”.

“I know,” Chan smiles, his dimples gleaming in the dim light of the room you two are in. “My pleasure”. 

Because really, it was.

[ja3hwa]

Congratulations on 3K my love, it's rightfully early and I'm so happy to be a moot and read your talented writing.

Can I please request...Jongho and the prompts:

52: Maybe you should just give up

23: I can't wait to take this off you

Thank you lovely!!

Prompts : As Listed Above^^

【sʏɴᴏᴘsɪs】 : Running for most of the night, you seek a safe haven from a sweet stranger. The only thing is, he wasn't such a stranger by the end of the night.

『ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ』 :  5.96k

-> ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: Smut, Fake Angst, Fluff.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: (FreedomFighter) Criminal!Jongho x Runaway!Reader (She/Her Female Anatomy Used)

[ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs] : Dystopian world. LORE ACCURATE! Jongho is viewed as a criminal, but he's more of an anarchist. Making out. Dry humping. Knife play. Lingerie. Unprotected sex. Swearing. Pet names. Fake names. Run in with the law. Criminal activity. Big beefy Jongho. Fake non-con (dub-con)Nipple play. Use of the word slut. Pussy torture. Mention of subspace. Climaxing without penetration. Crying (slight dacryaphilia). Ripping of clothing. Sir kink. Mean-ish Dom/sub dynamics. Multiple orgasms.

Note : I went a little overboard with this one, and I have no clue why. It just kinda grabbed a hold of me. But I hope you enjoy it, my darlings ♡♡

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You ran. As fast as your legs could take you. Running through the quiet streets, the moon only just lighting your way. Your hand gripped the poles to a barrier of some kind, pulling yourself up with momentum before not so gracefully swinging over the barbed fencing. You didn’t look back, not wanting to see how close the two very ample men chased you. You swore over and over in your head as you thought for a second about which direction will shake them from your tail. In truth, this was completely your fault. You had to open your stupid mouth about freedom and down with the government towards one of those freaky men in all white. And now he called his hounds on you. Typical. Two very shivery-looking cops. Pigs….

“Shit…” You mumbled finding yourself in a dead end, not knowing what to do. That was until your eyes spotted a glint of light, a mechanic shop that seemly was still open. Better that than getting caught. You thought, jogging over, making sure no one spots you. There was a car covered in a tarp in the centre of the shop floor, with tools and machines scattered around it. Who would be working on a customer's car this late? Another thought wondered in your mind as you tilted your head to the right slightly. You walked carefully through the shop, past all the tools. Making sure not to hit the car on the way through. You notice a door in the back, thinking the worker was possibly behind it. A decision came to mind, knock and ask nicely for the worker to help, or… force them to help you. 

God, when did you become such a bad person? Forcing someone into helping you? How could you even begin to think of such a thing? 

“Is there a reason why a cute thing like yourself is doing in my shop late at night?” A deep voice echoed around you, making your body shiver and your brain near short circuit. Turning quickly you see a man standing next to the covered car, leaning against it with his large arms crossed. You go to open your mouth when your eyes glance over the piece of the cloth on the car that was tugged upwards from the strange man leaning against it. That when you noticed what type of car it was…. it was.

“Are you going to answer me or am I gonna have to arrest you and ‘terrogate it out of you?” His accent caught you off guard, making you take a step back almost bumping into a rack of equipment. The blue and red stripes that decorate the car, and the badge that hangs on his pants just hiding under his mechanic jacket.

“You’re a…” Your eyes were glued to his badge. He took notice, looking down himself with a sly smirk. His hand pulls his jacket up so he could pull the badge off his belt.

“A cop?” He tilted his head while waving the gold emblem in your face slightly. You felt your throat go dry, not only had you spent the last hour running from cops, but now you had run straight into the lion's den. Your doe eyes scattered around the room, trying to look for a way out and before you could notice, the strange tall man stepped towards you. His tongue clicks, scanning your features. You were definitely beautiful and… different. He has never met a woman in trouble with the law before. So, of course, you intrigued him. “Maybe you should stop running. Or I might just cuff you and make you give up.”

You visibly gulped, feeling so small in power compared to him. Your eyes snapped from his to gaze down his broad body towering over you. You can smell his vanilla musk cologne making your head spin in the best way. You were falling slowly into his seductive trap and he was excited about it.

“You’re not a typical cop…” You scanned the badge a little more intensely and notice the number on it was forged. A very good one at that but no good enough to fool someone like you. It finally clicked in your head who he could be. You’ve heard about a group of criminals as the government calls them. But they were more like freedom fighters, anarchists…. So He was a good guy? Right?

“No, I’m not.” He chuckled darkly, feeling himself go crazy at the innocence that spilled off your tongue. You were like a little bunny, running right into a wolf trap. Scared but just as intrigued as him.

“I think she went this way!!” A loud voice echoed into the shop, making you start to panic. You needed to leave, to hide. Maybe run? The man in front of you suddenly took a step back, walking quickly over to the door to what you thought was an office. He tilted his head with a hurried ‘in here’. you moved into the room seeing it was in fact an office, but there was a little couch that had seemly been turned into a bed. It was messy, papers scattered everywhere, but you couldn’t care about anything at the moment, only worrying about the actual cops that had been chasing you for most of the night.

Two guards stop outside the shop, inspecting it. But before they could enter any further, your stranger stepped out. “Can I help you, boys?” He chucked a have-ass smile while rubbing his hands against a dirty oil.

“Who are you?” “Where’s Mr Alexander..” “You’re not the normal mechanic.” “Have you seen a woman run past here?”

“Guys, chill. I’m John.” The stranger that seemed to be named John, shook his head trying to calm the pigs down. “Alex is sick currently so I’ve taken over.” he gave both men a devilish smile, seemingly making both men calm down. He then directed them in a direction towards the far city border, saying he did hear some faint women's voice echoing down those particular streets. And so, off they went, disappearing into the night. 

“John huh…” You spoke, leaning against the door frame seeing the men have finally left and you were in the clear. John turned around and rubbed the back of his neck slightly giving you a softened look.

“Actually John is not my name. But I don’t need them knowing who I really am.”

You took a step forward, nodding a bit, while crossing your arms in front of your chest almost like you were trying to protect yourself. you held off your question for a moment watching as he took a step forward, inching ever closer to you. Like it was an unspoken rule to be close to one another. Like a pull of some sort, making sure neither of you were too far from the other.

“Then what do I call my saviour then?” you tried to laugh a little in order to make light of your awkwardness. Which seemed to work as he too laughed slightly. 

“Jongho….Choi Jongho…”His gummy smile made your heart flutter.

“Cute.” You spoke without thinking suddenly catching yourself out. “I-uh… I…” You couldn’t even finish your sentence, mind completely going blank. He seemed to notice, taking another step forward, daring his chances. He wants to see how close he could exactly get to you. And with every short step, it's proven you aren't afraid of him. In fact it seemed like you were more enticed, slipping into a slumber of calmness around both of you.

“Not as cute as yours is, I assume.” He pushed even further noticing a blush paint your features, decorating your precious ears. You didn’t notice at first, but his body was almost flushed against yours. But neither of you felt the need to move away from one another. Like you two had spent forever being close and never apart. His hands dared to touch you, wanting to feel the softness of your skin. 

“My name is…” His eyes drew to your lips as you spoke your name.

“Like I thought…” His fingers, grabbed a piece of hair that layed on your face, pushing it behind your ear “Cute.” Jongho said, a sly grin spreading across his face. He was all sharp angles, his jaw looking like it was carved from steel. Even his eyes looked so harsh as he stared down at you. The world around you seemed to disappear like all the wrongs and time have stopped.

His eyes grew darker, feeling a sense of need or want. He needed to touch you and wanted to have you. A shiver threatened to wrack your body at the way his lips wrapped into a smile of affirmation, the hint of warmth and lust seeping into his tone. It was enough to have sparks flaring to your core, but you tamped them down immediately, your face trying to remain unphased.

Jongho’s grin ticked up higher as he could somehow read your thoughts, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he held a hand out to you, before whispering to you, “Come with me,” he murmured, the snap of a command in his tone.

Nervously, you slid your fingers into his grasp, feeling the callouses of his palm rub against the smoothness of your own. Another shiver slipped down your spine. Your legs felt weak beneath your weight and before you could stop yourself, you stumbled slightly as he pulled you along towards the back room. 

Once inside he pulled you close to himself, letting your hands fall to press against his chest, feeling his firm muscles beneath his jacket. His arms went around your waist, steadying you and drawing you closer. Looking up into Jongho’s face, you caught him staring down at you with hunger. Heat began to rise in your tummy, your body catching on before your mind. Leaning further against his chest without another thought. You were lost in his touch, his scent, but a moment later, his voice interrupted your staring.

“Didn’t think a woman who ran like you did to get here would be so unsteady on her feet,” Jongho murmured, a teasing smirk curling the corner of his mouth. Locking your knees, you try to make sure you didn’t stumble again. His sharp eyes were watching you closely, a smile so mischievous, his white teeth flashing making you gulp in anticipation. 

“You know I couldn’t help but think the moment I saw you tonight was how I can’t wait to take this off you.” He spoke his lustful promise in a deep tone while his fingers dance along the fabric of your top. Then he grabbed you suddenly, pulling you into his arms again. You fell into him, pressing flush against his body and feeling the bulge of his erection against your stomach. “Should I show you now—spread you out and make you cum on my cock on my office table?”

You gasped in irony, spitting out, “You wouldn’t dare.” Jerking a hand free in a cheeky manner from where he’d pinned them to your sides. Jongho smiled slowly, his expression all teeth and hunger as need sparked in his eyes. It seemed he intended to take your words as a challenge because, in the next breath, he was walking you backwards until you hit the office desk with the back of your knees. You didn’t fight against him, letting the lustfulness take hold of you. Wetness pooling between your thighs while you gripped against his muscled chest, your own desire growing with each breath you took.

Your tall stranger reached behind you, pressing his chest to you, his eyes drilling into yours, and cleared off the table with one clean sweep of his arm making papers and whatever else fall off around the room. “Is that a challenge honey? You want me a stranger to take you? Use you? Fuck you nice and hard?” he said, his words rumbling in his chest, the vibration teasing through your body. He had a determined look on his face and, at that moment, you thought he looked a bit like a god himself. He was eternal in your eyes.

“It’s a promise…” You whispered, feeling his gaze sweep down your body, hunger painting his face. Before you could start to squirm and add to your fake protest, he pushed you down on the office counter fully, covering your body with his own, and pressing you into the hardwood. He pinned your hands above your head, his hips settling against yours, his hardness flushing against your softness.

“Just wait and see then my honey—I always keep my promises.” With that, he placed his soft mouth against yours, taking your lips in a fierce kiss.

His lips pressed and tugged on your own, coaxing you with brutal diligence. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip and sucked it into his mouth, working you slowly. You gave in to him quickly almost forgetting you were supposed to have resistance from him. Your legs shifted, your knees widening as he slid between them, settling heavily into the cradle of your thighs. His hard, thick cock pressed to your heated core and a breathy moan slipped from your lips before you could stop it. You were lost to sensation, pleasure overwhelming your mind as you melted beneath your oh-so-friendly stranger. The corners of Jongho’s mouth tipped up as he pressed his advantage, grinding his hips into the opening from your thighs, gifting more gasps and moans from you. He slid his hands up from your wrists, tangling with your fingers even as he kept you pinned to the table, his lips working against yours perfectly. He fucked your mouth with his tongue and rocked his cock against your clit, taking possession of your body. 

It felt as though your mind had lost control of your body. Your thighs spreading wider and your knees climbed Jongho’s sides in haste, opening yourself up for him more willingly. Your fingers squeezed his, clinging to him and no longer trying to fight him off―but let's face it you weren't trying that hard to get him off you―. You were lost, your tongue twisted with his, your hips rising off the table to meet his grinding thrusts. Your bodies came together in a lustful and most primal dance. 

You pulled away from him so you could catch your breath, suddenly taking in your surroundings. Your body begged for him, a shiver of anticipation trickling down your spine and heat dripping from your core even as your brain told you to be wary of him. He is a stranger after all and you should always second-guess everything you did. Right? He moved to catch your wrists in one hand again so he could smooth the edge of his thumb down the side of your face, still holding you pinned to the office counter. As you stared up into Jongho’s hard eyes, you could’ve sworn you saw something almost soft in his gaze. It sent your heart thudding in your chest. It was hard enough to resist him when he was a stranger. If he went more soft and tender on you, you knew you’d be lost to him—not just your body, but your heart.

The softness you saw in his eyes moments ago was suddenly replaced with a dark hunger. A cocky smirk swept across his face as he tsked his tongue at you. “You look amazing honey. You know that?” he cheeked. With his free hand, he procured a small letter opener knife, grazing it along your side.

An audible whine sound burst from your mouth, and before you could nit back at him with a cheeky remark, Jongho was slicing through the tight fabric of your shirt, revealing the lingerie you’d worn beneath. It was red and lacy, with lavish silk ribbons holding the delicate material together to hide your most intimate places. Jongho ripped your garment down to your navel, his brown eyes sparkling with an insatiable pride at the sight of your body on display for him.

“Oh, Honey,” he murmured in a low rumbling that went straight to your pussy, making you throb. When his eyes had taken a long perusal of your soft breasts and curved plump waist, Jongho’s gaze returned to yours. “Did you wear this pretty little getup for yourself? Huh?” he asked in a taunting tone. He traced the flat tip of his knife around the edges of your lingerie, your body rioting at the feel of the cold steel against your skin. “or did you think someone was going to peel it off you tonight?”

Your expression hardened into a glare at his question, biting your lip you suddenly lost focus. Dropping the act for a moment you wanted to laugh, forgetting how to respond. “I wanted you to see it…” your mind went fuzzy, making him give you a bright smile, chuckling lightly at your subby tone.

“Baby…You wanna answer that differently?” He had to laugh, the plan you to made completely crumbling. The teasing tone he did went through your body, making your core dampen further.

“I’m sorry sir…” You whine grinding more desperately against him, dropping the act now entirely. You had planned out the evening so differently with Jongho early in the week, talking about wanting to up your sex life and mixing it with your “job” per say. But this was definitely not what you expected. The dominance Jongho showed, blurred your mind and sent you into a space you didn’t know you could enter. A submissive space where you could let Jongho take complete control and care for you.

He flicked his knife, slicing it through the lace covering one of your breasts. He didn’t wait for an answer, instead, he lent down and took your nipple into his warm mouth. Your gasp was seemingly answer enough for him as he growled appreciatively at the feel of you. He teased your nipple into a tight, hardened peak with his tongue and teeth, leaving it and nibbling on your sensitive flesh until you were breathing heavily.

Jongho had tortured your nipple to his satisfaction before he let it fall from his mouth and blew across it, the feeling of his warm breath on your wet, sensitive skin made you shiver in his hold. You wanted to squeeze your thighs together but your lover's hips were still wedged between your legs, his cock twitching against your slit through the layers of your thing joggers. Jongho noticed your body’s reaction to him and he grinned, catching your eye so you could see the spark of amusement in his gaze. He trailed his soft lips across your chest as he used his knife to push away the lace covering your other breast letting your chest free.

“Tell me how wet you are baby.” Jongho growled, his chocolate eyes darkening with intensity as he stared at you. With your hands pinned above your head and your lover wielding a knife, you pressed your lips tightly together trying to hide your desperate whimper. You held Jongho’s gaze, while he chuckled as he dipped his head and took your nipple into his mouth again, delivering the same treatment upon it as he had your other previously. A sharp gasp fell from your lips and your head fell back against the wooden office with a thud. you felt your head spin slightly from the pain but you couldn't care less as his tongue continued to swirl around your sensitive bud. He attacked your soft plump tits with a caringness you’d never known before until meeting him, licking and sucking on your nipples. All you could do was lay there at his mercy, trying not to be too loud in case someone else would hear the breathy moans and hearty gasps that wanted to escape your lips.

By the time he pulled away, a satisfied grin on his face, you were nothing more than a puddle of desire on his friend's office table. Your body was soft and compliant beneath his large frame and it took all your restraint in your foggy brain not to roll your hips against his, seeking the friction from his aching appendage that your weeping pussy so desperately needed.

“Mmm, I’m going to have fun with you, honey.” He rumbled, his deliciously smooth and deep voice settling low in your heated core. He lavished your chest with kisses for a moment. The drag of his jaw sent a delightful shiver down your spine. You couldn’t help yourself, a moan fell from your lips. “Such a filthy little slut, aren’t you?” 

“Please Jongiee” you shot back not bothering to answer him. Your voice was breathier than you could handle not being able to control yourself anymore. He rocked his hips into yours, making your words dissolve into a pathetic moan. He ground his hard length against your dripping core through the layers of your clothes, stoking your pussy against the harsh fabrics. 

“What was that, baby?” he asked teasingly, but yet, an affectionate tone. “You want me to take care of you?”

You had to stop yourself from nodding like an idiot and agreeing with him straight away. But he knew what you wanted, reading you like an open book. Slipping his fingers through your papers, learning each word and chapter writing all over your beautiful body. A satisfied smirk curled on his mouth, the expression so sinful you didn’t know if you wanted to slap him for keeping you waiting or pull him down for a kiss and beg him to fuck you so hard you see stars. Your eyelids fluttered and a soft, gasping moan fell from your lips as pleasure rocked through you.

Jongho knew too well how to work your body up into a frenzy, his hips grinding his hard cock into your dripping pussy while his mouth lavished your nipples with kisses and bites that sent pleasure shooting straight to your core. He toyed with one of your nipples again, furthering his torture on your body. He circled the other nipple with the sharp tip of his knife, sending excited thrills through your body. 

Your pleasure was rising higher and higher, coiling tightly as your legs clung to your lover’s waist and your own hips rose to meet his hard, grinding thrusts. When he rubbed his hard cock against your clit again and sank his teeth into the soft flesh of your breast, your eyes flew open as the tension in your body suddenly snapped. A sharp cry escaped your mouth and your body trembled as you came all over your panties and most lightly your joggers.

You were unravelled, your body quaking and your lips moaning his name like a broken record as your orgasm ripped through you. A sob tore from your throat and tears spilled from your eyes and pleasure overwhelmed your mind. It was too much to comprehend that you had come so hard for him and you both still had most of your clothes on.

“That’s it, such a good girl,” he murmured the soft praise as his grinding hips worked you through the aftershocks of your release. “Such a good little slut for me” He kissed away your stary tear “My Darling,” he said, his voice a low rumble. The possessiveness in his tone washed over you, making your heart thump in agreement.

“My Jongie,” you whispered through swollen lips from his kisses and your crying. His expression softened into a look so pure and vulnerable. You wiggled your hands against his hold until he let you free. Slowly, you brought your arms down and reached for him, cupping his face in both your hands. “Mine,” you said fiercely.

A gentle, genuine smile curved his mouth. “Yours,” he replied before leaning down and placing his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. When he pulled away, his voice was gruff with emotion. “I love you.” Before you could respond, he began tearing the clothes from your body, using his knife to rip it to shreds while being careful not to hurt you in the process. Happiness and excitement bubbled up in your chest. You giggled before you could stop yourself, delight soaring through you. 

Something warm and overwhelming filled your heart and you smiled up at your man. “I love you too,” you murmured, reaching your hands out to him. He shed his jacket, tossing it onto the couch beside both of you, before climbing back up your body. You tilted your head into his soothing touch as he stroked your cheek, but were quickly distracted by his shirt, running your hands up his chest to his collarbone. 

Your fingers made quick work of the material as you responded to him. You pushed his shirt off and let your fingers start to explore his bare chest. He was all cut muscle and golden skin. There were scars dotting across his pecs and abdomen from old wounds, and you traced those delicately wishing you could kiss each of them like you have so many times before. Smiling down at you with affection written plainly across his face as he discarded the item on top of his jacket. Ducking down, Jongho dragged his lips slightly over yours in a ghost of a kiss. Grumbling through a smile of your own, you tilted your head, capturing his mouth in a proper kiss. His lips curled in a smile before he devoured you with his kiss, his mouth demanding and possessive as it moved against yours. When he finally pulled away, you were both breathless.

“Ready for my cock, Honey?” Jongho rumbled, grinding his hardness against your dripping pussy through his pants and your leggings. Heat and need coursed through you, your wet folds rubbing against the drenched lace between your legs and the hot, hard length of him. But it wasn’t enough, you needed more. 

“Please Sir pretty please….”

Jongho chuckled, The ruins of your shirt and bra lay in tatters around you, framing your body for his eyes only. “God and here I thought you couldn’t get any more beautiful.” He trailed the edge of his knife down your body, digging into your soft skin but never actually piercing your flesh. The delicious drag of the blade made you shiver, but the loss of contact against your pussy had your mind clearing somewhat but not quite.

Jongho pressed the flat edge of his knife against your clit to let you feel the cold steel against your heated flesh. He grinned down at you, bending down and planting a hand beside your head, watching as pleasure contorted your face. He dragged his knife against your clit, watching as your hips twitched in response. You gasped and writhed beneath Jongho’s knife. He was being so careful, and you were trying not to move too much so you didn’t hurt yourself, but it was too much of a tease for you to control. You needed more. And with a flick of his wrist, Jongho caught the hem of your leggings on the tip of his knife and he sliced through it, baring you finally as he tugged all the broken fabric off you. You whimpered as the cool air of the office brushed against your heated core.

“So beautiful, Honey,” he murmured, his tone adoring as he worshipped you with his eyes. He began dragging his knife along your body, tracing your soft curves slowly. He circled your nipples with the tip of the blade, making you gasp as excitement thrilled through you, shooting directly to your slit and making you throb desperately.

He moved the blade down so he could tease your clit with the blunt edge of the knife. He then slid it through your dripping folds and you fought to hold yourself still when all you wanted was relief. It was blissful torture. Chuckling, Jongho pulled the steel blade away from your throbbing core, holding your gaze as he licked your arousal from the silver edge. For a moment, you were stunned by this man's actions. Your fingers shaking in their eagerness, you reached for Jongho’s belt, undoing it and reaching into his pants to pull out the cock. He was thick and hot in your hands, feeling bigger and heavier now that it was out of his jeans.

You circled your fingers around his girth while he twitched in your hands, making saliva pool in your mouth as you ached to take him down your throat. While you stroked his cock loosely, Jongho hastily threw his knife down beside you and pushed his pants and boxer briefs down his legs, your focus getting distracted when his muscular thighs were revealed to you. You took a moment to appreciate the sight of him, his thick thighs his big, hard cock. His big beefy frame. He leaned down over you, bracing himself on a forearm beside your head. His lips found yours in a kiss while you continued stroking his length, twisting your hand around his tip and smearing his precum down his length until he pulled away with a groan. “Let me inside that sweet pussy, honey,” he rasped, an almost desperate pleading note in his voice.

Moaning and nodding your head, you guided his hard length to your slick folds, rubbing the tip of him through your wet pussy and teasing your clit until you were both panting against each other's lips. Finally, when you couldn’t take it anymore, you pushed the head of his cock at your entrance and his hips pressed forward until his tip drove into your tight heat. You both moaned raggedly, staring into each other's eyes. 

“So fucking tight, Honey, so perfect,” Jongho rasped, dragging his lips across your jaw and planting kisses down your throat. “You are just made for me aren’t you baby.”

Nodding stupidly, you wrapped your arms around Jongho’s shoulders and held on, moaning loudly when he pushed deeper into your fluttering hole. He was so hot and hard, but he was moving too slowly for your liking. You needed more and you needed it now. Your knees climbed the sides of Jongho’s chest planting your feet onto the wood table below you, opening yourself for him so you could urge him deeper. A growl tore from Jongho’s throat and he shoved his cock deep, burying himself in your pussy and making you cry out sharply as your tight hole stretched to accommodate his thick length. He filled you up perfectly, pausing for a moment to give you time to adjust. He rumbled random words before sucking the skin of your neck between his teeth hard enough to leave his mark on your body.

Your heart thumped in your chest as he filled you up so perfectly and you felt so safe and cherished in his arms. “Jongie,” you whispered, threading your fingers through his soft mixed-dyed hair. You rolled your hips in an effort to get him moving, unsure if you could get your lips to work enough to form a sentence. Your walls clenched desperately around Jongho’s thick cock, needing the friction that would drive your pleasure higher. Jongho recognized your body’s pleas and began moving his hips, at first only rolling in small thrusts, grinding the base of himself against your clit. It felt so good, nearly taking your breath away, and yet it wasn’t enough. You wanted him to fill you up and fuck you hard.

“Jongho, please, I need more—fuck me harder, fuck me like your little slut, please,” you begged, your voice raspy with desire.

“Mm,” He hummed, rising so he hung above you. His darkened gaze roved over your face, taking in the way your expression was twisted with pleasure and need. “You beg so sweetly, Honey,” he murmured, a smirk curling the edge of his mouth as warm affection shone in his eyes. He pulled his hips back until only the tip of his cock was still inside you before slamming deep into your waiting heat, wrenching a lusty cry from your lips. “Such a gorgeous little slut for my cock.”

All you could do was moan in response as he set a brutal pace, fucking you so thoroughly your mind went blank but for the pleasure that consumed you. Jongho growled out through gritted teeth, his cock ploughing into your wet pussy over and over, driving your pleasure higher and higher. He sealed a kiss from your lips. Then he shifted the angle of his body, pushing your thighs up and wider for him. Letting your calves hang over his shoulders and pinning you to the wooden table with his heavy weight. “Gonna fill you up with my cum, Honey,” He muttered, his eyes fixed on the spot where your bodies joined. 

“Fuck yes, please Sir, cum inside me,” you said with a filthy moan, your head flailing as your pleasure peaked. You clung to his biceps, nails digging into his skin to ground you as your mind threatened to float away on a wave of bliss. He pressed more kisses to your face before shifting his weight onto his knees. His hand circled your throat, pinning you to the office array. His fingers squeezed the sides of your neck lightly making your body finally settle. Jongho didn’t grip you too hard, but you found it was exactly what you needed. Your eyes opened and you stared up at him, feeling devotion in your heart and knowing it was written plainly across your face. 

“Cum for me,” he rumbled, his free hand finding your clit as he kept pounding into your soaked cunt. His cock hit a spot deep inside you on every thrust and that, along with his fingers mercilessly rubbing your clit, had sparks flaring all over your body. You came with a choked scream, your body going tense and your hips rising off the furniture to take Jongho’s cock further inside you, as deep as it would go. Pleasure overwhelmed your senses until you were staring mindlessly up at him with a goofy smile. When your awareness returned, the first thing you saw was the awe on Jongho’s face. You grabbed him and dragged him down for a messy kiss, his cock still pounding into your clenching pussy. 

“Cum inside me, Jongho,” you muttered when you pulled away, letting him see your eyes and how desperate you were for him. “Please…” Jongho squeezed his eyes shut for a moment like he needed to gather himself, and when he opened them again, they were sparked with determination, lust and something deeper. He growled in affirmation as he shoved his cock inside you, plunging as deep as he could go, his thrusts turning sloppy as he chased his own release. After a few more strokes, he came with a loud groan. His cock twitched as he spilled his white liquid in your pussy and you moaned softly at the feeling of him filling you up.

He then collapsed soon after on top of you, letting your legs fall around his waist as he lay his head on your still-heaving chest. His arms wrapped around you, holding you tight against him. You threaded your fingers through his wet hair, enjoying its softness as you both caught your breath. After a short while, Jongho picked his head up and looked at you, satisfaction written candidly in the grin on his face. You couldn’t help but smile in return, drawing him in for a kiss. 

“So much for roleplay.” He giggled through the kiss.

“I prefer knife play anyway…”

He couldn’t help but laugh at your words.

-♥︎

[hades-in-bloom]

But First, Coffee

Post-DI!Leon S. Kennedy x Corp Exec!Reader

summary: Leon is after his next target when he encounters a not-so-cooperative informant.

warnings & contents: older Leon (as per usual); could be age gap, could be none; accidentally plot-heavy and a dialogue heaven; mentions of smoking; Leon doesn’t do one-night stands; hints of power play; the reader could be any gender; might be turned into series (? big question mark).

a/n: this one just wrote itself as the pairing dynamic bugged me for a while—I haven’t seen it anywhere yet, but nudge me if I’ve missed anything; I think Leon might enjoy being bossed around a bit (for his own good, also by someone who isn’t Ada)—and as he can easily boss back, too. Overall, desperately clinging to my last brain cells. As always, proceed at your own risk—and let me know if this smaller font is unreadable. Minors DNI! Masterlist

Also—holy smokes, folks—this blog hit 100+ follows! Might sound insignificant to some, but it just blows my mind. Thank you so much for reading! xoxo

***

‘I haven't seen him. I wasn't paying attention. Please, I have more important things to attend to,’ you begged repeatedly—until a cop who was torturing you gave up. She knew she couldn’t keep you in the interrogation room for longer, so she had to let you out—eventually. You never thought that your morning run would end up with you in a police department.

‘We’ll have a short break,’ she sighed, giving you a stern look. ‘You may grab coffee next door; I'll call you back.’

You breathed out an irritated ‘Great,’ and took your chances, making your way to the only coffee machine in your vicinity. That one looked abused by thousands of hands eager to get a dose of instant caffeine.

‘You’d be better off drinking plain water than this,’ you heard a chuckle from your right before you noticed a tall man leaning on the nearby wall, watching you. He was dressed casually–heavy boots, dark jeans with a straight fit, and a probably expensive leather jacket; his sharp gaze trained on you, attempting to look into your soul—luckily for you, some of your employees were convinced you had no soul, so you left unfazed by the efforts.

You chuckled back at him. ‘Fair, but I don’t think that even this swill of a drink could worsen my situation.’

‘You don’t look like a local,’ you mentioned aloud, and he smirked in reply.

‘Good eye—I’m not. Well, not anymore,’ he confessed, stepping towards you. He didn’t seem to be planning to give you more details about himself, and you weren’t in a hurry to ask—or, instead, you didn’t care—yet.

‘Well,’ you gave him a look full of friendly irony, ‘if you’re not my knight in shining armour who can get me the hell out of this interrogation immediately, so I won't lose my job, I’d rather get on with my coffee.’

You turned your attention to the visibly overused coffee machine so you didn’t see how his eyebrows rose up a little, and a slight smirk touched his lips.

You grabbed a half-full coffee cup from under the machine and then turned as you heard your name down the corridor. ‘And that’s me.’ You emphasized before walking away. He watched you calmly, his eyes expression unreadable. ‘So long, local boy.’

You couldn’t hear him when he quietly chuckled in amusement as you returned to the officer’s lair.

It took twenty more minutes of unnecessary suffering before the door to the interrogation room swung open.

‘Leon?’ The cop looked surprised as you glanced at the intruder quickly—the local boy. Now, you were intrigued.

‘Jess, sorry for interrupting,’ Leon smiled at the old friend, ‘but I have Chief’s clearance to get this one,’ the man nodded at you briefly, ‘out of this questioning.’ He gave Jess—or, as known by you, Detective Jessica Harlow—an apologetic look. ‘D.S.O. orders.’

The detective sighed and returned him an irritated but tamed look. ‘Fine,’ Jessica glanced back at you. ‘It was a waste of time anyway.’

You couldn't hold back a scoff. ‘Tell me about that.’ Leon gave you a dirty look, although you could see his mouth twitch in a suppressed giggle.

‘Alright, get out.’ He said with a sigh, waving you towards the corridor. ‘I'll explain everything on the way.’

As you stepped outside the NYPD building, you took a moment to examine him. ‘So you are the knight in shining armour.’

Leon chuckled lightheartedly. ‘Oh, I'm definitely not that.’ The man neither considered himself noble nor his usual tactical vest was shiny. From his point of view, he wasn’t a hero type either.

‘Leon Kennedy, Division of Security Operations under the U.S. government,’ he introduced himself, done with the jokes. You held back a moan—so the local boy was a trap—a quite high-flying bird, though. He read you and showed a soft smile. ‘I know you have spent a lot of time with Jess, but I might have a couple of questions more.’ Leon thought he was worthy of the favor after he pulled you out of the interrogation with NYPD hours before Harlow would get satisfied—Jessica has always been thorough. ‘And for a change, they won't be about that theft you witnessed this morning.’

You weren’t excited; he could see that much. ‘Do I have a choice?’ You sighed.

‘Not really,’ Leon admitted honestly. You found him amusing—although the man knew he was in control of the situation, his look was soft, allowing, lacking arrogance you get used to seeing in your line of work, and he was too relaxed to your liking.

‘Can it wait at least?’ You pressed with desperate notes in your tone. ‘I am late to a critical meeting.’

He nodded reassuringly after a short pause.

Although still impatient, you sighed in relief and took a business card out, handing it over to the federal agent. ‘I guess I can skip my introduction.’ You stepped to the side, hailing a taxi. ‘Call my assistant. He’ll match our schedules.’

‘I can wait, but I can’t wait for long,’ Leon retorted as your leg stepped inside the yellow car.

You gave Kennedy a sweet smile before you shut the door. ‘Great. You tell him that.’

Leon was left stunned for a moment as he watched the car riding off deeper into downtown New York.

‘Shit,’ he mumbled with annoyance in his voice—and with a sudden hint of admiration, too.

***

‘I told you—I can’t wait that long.’

You jolted in surprise as you heard a familiar voice and your car door swung open. It was a couple of days since you met him for the first time.

‘I told you to call my assistant,’ you smiled politely as Leon made himself comfortable in the backseat next to you. You gave the nod to a company driver that he could drive on despite the unexpected guest present.

‘Oh, I have called—but the only available slot is three weeks from now. I guess you forgot to brief him on the urgency of our meeting.’

‘My bad then.’ You sighed, showing no remorse. ‘Close the door if you want this conversation to happen. I was just about to drive back home.’

Kennedy followed your advice and shut the door before the car took off.

‘So, what do you want to know?’

You were direct—Kennedy preferred that style of communication. Leon pulled up a picture on his phone. ‘There’s an assumption to believe you should know that guy.’ You tensed a bit as you took a look at the image.

‘I would prefer to have my lawyer present,’ you replied casually, making Leon chuckle.

‘Come on, it’s a friendly conversation. I’m not here to accuse you of anything—I have more important things on my plate.’

You scoffed. While thinking, you pulled up a cigarette case out of your purse and were about to light up one of those when you noticed the man making a slight grimace—it wasn’t his goal to tell you what to do, and you probably wouldn’t have noticed it if you didn’t glance at him at the right time. You shot him a look. ‘What’s that? I saw it.’

‘I just… prefer my clothes not to smell of cigarette smoke,’ Leon replied, his voice gentle but confident. Despite the diversion, he stayed close to the topic. ‘But I'd rather you answer my question than we talk about the dangers of smoking.’

You had to admit that this annoying motherfucker had a style. ‘Great. Otherwise, I was looking forward to being scolded by a stranger.’ Your tone of voice was surprisingly friendly. Leon seemed not to hold a grudge.

You didn't care much about the opinions of others generally—but this time, the unknown force made you slow down and put away your lighter before you got a light out of it.

At last, you entertained his question. ‘The man is Art Rankine.’ You glanced back at Kennedy’s phone, still showing the photo. ‘I had a pleasure to work with him on one of the mergers.’

‘Legion Corp.,’ Leon assumed, and you raised an eyebrow.

‘Good to hear you did your homework. Then I don’t have to break my NDA—and thanks to that one, I’m not sure I can help you much.’

‘I would question that all of your encounters with Mr. Rankine were covered by the NDA.’ The man smiled, giving you a look. You felt your cheeks getting warm. ‘Am I right?’ Leon tilted his head while keeping eye contact. After a moment, you returned a dirty look at him.

‘We dated. Fleetingly, if I may add,’ you admitted reluctantly.

‘Good. As the merger was closed recently, I'd assume you still have his private contact?’ Kennedy asked.

You felt like you were falling into the James Bond-esque rabbit hole, and you didn't enjoy it.

‘So the all-knowing Leon Kennedy knows I slept with the man but couldn’t get his number?’ You didn't hold back on sarcasm, but it left the federal agent unfazed.

‘Something like that,’ he retorted. ‘I need your help to set up a meeting. That’s all I ask for.’

You scoffed. ‘You request me to contact my ex, and then you call it a small favor?’

‘That’s the best offer I’ve got.’ Leon admitted. ‘I’d rather we establish this partnership quickly.’ Oh, you knew well what that meant—a very gentle threat of making you spend a lot of money on your lawyer. It annoyed you as much as, to your amusement, you found it hot.

You sighed.

‘How do you want the meeting?’

You could see his watercolor eyes light up in satisfaction.

‘We can talk about it tomorrow. Care to give me your personal number?’

You took his mobile phone out of his hands before quickly typing in your number and calling your cell.

‘I am saving you under a horrible name,’ you warned the federal agent, and Leon let out a chortle.

‘Flattered. Now, I can get off right there,’ he nodded at the closest street corner. Soon, the driver stopped there for a moment.

‘So long, local boy.’

You watched him get out of the car, observing his features unintently—and then, by accident, you caught himself staring at his lips for a quarter of a second.

He noticed it.

‘Buy me a coffee first, sweetheart,’ he smirked before closing the car door as he exited the vehicle.

You realized you were holding back your breath after a while—you shook it off right after, finally putting a cigarette into your mouth and briefly cursing under your breath while you lit it up.

[cactusisconfused]

Not Even Death Can Do Us Part

Soap cheats death.

( Here's the AO3 link if you would prefer to read there.)

-

“John ‘Soap’ MacTavish, KIA” the paper reads.

The paper feels like a lie.

Maybe if Ghost stares long enough he’ll find the truth that must be hidden between the thin white lines in between letters and blacked out sentences.

Maybe if he stares at the paper, forever searching, he won’t have to see Johnny’s blood on his hands. 

Ghost knows what he’s doing isn’t exactly healthy, and really that isn’t new for him, but he just can’t let Johnny go, not when he was all Ghost had- all that Simon had.

He knows the looks he’s been getting from Price and Gaz. He knows he’s one pick up of a pen away from being sent on mandatory leave to ‘set himself straight.’ 

A part of him is frustrated with himself, that he can’t just move on like he did for everything else- for everyone else. Though he never did, did he? But Johnny helped guide him in the right direction and now, without his guidance, Simon is lost in a deep sea of nothing.

Waves crash into him, stealing what little energy he has left to keep himself sane, keep himself standing.

Always he sees the bright blue eyes piercing the blackness. Maybe if he just reached a little further- if he just pushed a little harder and ignored the black dots swirling around in his eyes- he could have his Johnny back.

“Simon.” Johnny’s voice calls out, the leagues of water doing nothing to mute his voice. “Take my hand.” Johnny says ever so softly, a gift Simon never deserved. 

Simon kicks his legs, desperate and uncoordinated but he’s so close- just a little further- just a little bit more-...

It’s not long before Simon’s vision gets swallowed whole by swarming black dots. But he likes to think that maybe in his last moment of consciousness, he felt a warm hand against his own and the quietest whisper from some voice giving him ease as he drifts off to face hell itself.

“I’ve got you Simon.”

-

It takes an embarrassingly long amount of time for Ghost to force himself out of his bed. He’d been getting those dreams for a long while now. The dream mingling and blending with all the other nightmares Ghost’s brain had accumulated just for his sanity to ‘enjoy’.

How rotten his own brain is. Forced to watch every failure in his life on repeat forever. His failure to save his family from his father, his failure to save his family yet again as they burned from Simon’s own wrongdoing. It should have been him in there, to be the only one in there. The only one to burn. Yet there he stood outside the raging fire, dog tags in hand with a news report the next day to say he was the killer to his own beloved family. He swore to be ‘The Ghost’ since then. No face, no personality, no connections. Just a bloodlust machine, a rabid dog for those that want death. That had always seemed to be what Simon was good for, if anything at all.

Then Johnny came and oh, how the world was spun anew, like a new thread spun to a bobbin. Ghost couldn’t remember the last time he had seen so much light, so much life in someone’s eyes. Ghost had sworn that he wouldn’t include himself to any other being, lest his curse be added to another. Yet Simon grew soft, his shadow blinded by Johnny’s blazing light. A dangerous fire that Johnny bestowed to Simon and what a fool he was to take it. He only ever smothered the flames of life, slowly and torturously sucking the oxygen from the burning charcoal, letting the bright flame die small and miserable. He should have said no.

But Simon Riley is a fool with a far too human heart.

He promised to care for the flame, cherish it. Yet he watched it sputter and fade as Johnny lay dead on the pavement in that tunnel.

Now yet another failure adds to the collection, the image of those sapphire eyes, always reaching out a hand, promising so many things that Simon shouldn’t listen too, like an enticement from a god who only wishes mischief. But Simon will never learn as his hand always reaches and always misses. He wants desperately to say he had grabbed it this time before the black in his eyes swallowed him whole, like a parasitic algae to coral.

But no. 

It’s best to will that degrading hope away before it consumes him whole.

Simon stares up at the cold, gray ceiling above him. He doesn’t need to look at his alarm clock to know he’s up at an ungodly hour.

Quietly, making no sound beside the slight creek of the bed, Ghost sits up. He knows damn well he’s not going back to sleep, he might as well make himself useful. 

-

The day is uneventful, whether that’s a blessing or a curse Ghost isn’t exactly sure. He finds himself not caring much.

It’s until the end of the day that he gets the smallest bit of reprieve, standing on top of the base's roof, a cigarette dangling from his fingers. The smell of the smoke wafting in the air is putrid but familiar. The world is still, only leaves against leaves as the wind pushes past them. 

That is until a voice breaks it and the world goes still. Almost like the whole world was threatened, unsure and deathly afraid.

“I thought you said you would quit smoking L.t.” The voice comes from behind him. Ghost straightens and slowly turns to the direction of it.

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish stands a few feet away from Ghost. His hands in his pocket, nonchalant. His skin is pale and slightest bit transparent. His eyes are as blue as ever with a contrast of maroon that seeps from the entrance and exit wound of the bullet hole in the scot’s head. They stand staring for a moment before, Johnny’s face looks almost relieved and another emotion ready to explode but carefully tampered down, like waiting for a shoe to drop. Ghost however is trying to figure out how his mind is able to conjure an hallucination so vividly.

Eventually, Ghost just shakes his head as he turns back around. Maybe if he ignores it, it will go away.

However, Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley has never had a fair life and that sure as hell wasn’t about to change.

There was no signal that this Not Johnny had moved. The only telltale sign was the Not man moving into Ghost’s peripheral view. 

He can see Not Johnny observing him, Ghost remains ever quiet and stoic, as he looks out at the darkened forest that surrounds the base. It’s a quiet night, only a skeleton crew running the base and nothing but the flickering stars above…Johnny really would have loved this.

With a quiet exhale to ignore the sudden tightness in his throat, he brings the cigarette up to his exposed mouth, his balaclava sitting on the bridge of his nose. 

What gives him pause however is when Not Johnny reaches his hand up and takes the cigarette out of Ghost’s hand and puts it out on the concrete wall of the roof.

“You know smoking isn’t good for you Si.” Not Johnny says in the soft voice of his, like he’s trying to not spook a feral cat. Always, he was careful and gentle and all the things Simon shouldn’t experience. He’s done nothing to gain that opportunity.

After a moment, Ghost’s brain catches up. How the fuck did this hallucination just interact with a physical object?

“What the fuck?” Is all Ghost can get out, his voice blunt from shock. Did he hallucinate putting out the cigarette too? No, the cigarette is right there, on the concrete fence, still scrunched and out and being moved subtly each time the wind blows.

Ghost isn’t startled by anything, nothing ever gets to him no matter how much gore there is or how sudden something may be, Ghost is solid and unmovable.

But Simon? He’s petrified of everything, truly like a skittish cat. So right here, standing on the roof staring at an imitation of his dead lover as it had physically taken Simon’s cigarette and put it out- Simon’s so sure he’s fallen off the deep end. He’s finally broke.

Simon Riley has finally broken. He swears he can hear Roba laughing in his grave.

“You’re not real.” Simon whispers under the moonlight above. “You’re not real.” He tries again, whether to convince himself of that or the hallucination of Johnny he doesn’t know. He ignores it as his eyes become blurry.

He hears Not Johnny make a wounded sound in his throat, a careful hand moving to hold Simon’s cheek, guiding him to face Johnny. And maybe, if Simon tries hard enough, he can pretend that the warmth in that soft hand on his cheek is real.

“I know what this looks like love, I know, I’m sorry for what you’re going through but I’m here love. I don’t know how but I’m here. I am real, I promise.” Not Johnny says softly, his thumb catching and wiping away a rogue tear that had fallen from the precipice of Simon’s tear duct.

“Stop….Please I can’t-... don’t do this to me Johnny.” Simon practically begs, his voice quiet and unstable. Ghost has never believed in any higher power but right here in Not Johnny’s arms, he begs the mother of earth herself to stop playing this cruel trick on Simon. Just this once. 

Just this once.

Johnny shakes his head, moving to embrace Simon as a whole which Simon falls into. Warm hands caress over where Simon’s hair is covered by the balaclava.

“I’m here Si, I swear to you on everything there is, I’m here. I can prove it, but…I think you should get some rest first love, you look tired.” Simon lets a few more tears fall at Johnny’s words. Maybe, just for tonight, he can play along. Have one more night with his Johnny even if it isn’t real.

“Haven’t been able to sleep since you left.” Simon mumbles into Not Johnny’s neck, Simon’s face hidden from the world.

“Let’s fix that then, yeah?” Not Johnny whispers, his own voice shaky. Slowly, Not Johnny leads Simon to stand, a warm hand on his arm.

They walk silently to Simon’s room and Ghost is thankful that no one else was walking those same halls then. How odd it must look for Ghost to lean on the support of a person who wasn’t there.

Upon opening the door to Simon’s room, it’s just as empty and void of life as it had ever been, save for a few trinkets on his desk that Johnny had given him.

At some point, Ghost notices that Not Johnny is speaking but he doesn’t listen, as sure as he is that the words must be important- every word that Johnny had ever said was important- he just lets the words dance around in the air, the sound of a soft melody that he so dearly misses. At some point he undresses himself and lets himself be led to his own bed. As he lays down, Not Johnny shifts from one leg to the other. A hallucination that’s uneasy, Ghost might have laughed if he were someone else.

“Mind if I sleep you tonight?” Simon looked at Not Johnny for a long moment. He’s still wearing the same gear and outfit he had on when a bullet went through his head and in the delusion of his mind, he didn’t want any dirt and such in his bed.

“Get changed first.” His voice, while quiet, seems to echo in the room. To his surprise, Not Johnny did as asked. At first it was his tac vest, which disappeared as it hit the ground. They both watched it fall, Simon with almost disinterest and Not Johnny with a fascinated expression. Maybe Simon’s brain doesn’t have the energy to hallucinate anything other than Johnny and what's on him.

Once Not Johnny finishes undressing, he carefully moves to lay against Simon. The fit is tight, it always has been between the two hulking men attempting to fit on a borderline twin mattress.

They maneuver slightly in the bed so Not Johnny has his back against the mattress while Simon lays on top of the Scot. 

Maybe, Simon thinks as he lets his eyes slip closed, maybe he can allow himself to imagine the faintest beating of a heart inside of Johnny’s chest.

He knows it’s wrong to indulge, given how warped his sense of reality already is, but just for tonight he’ll have this.

Johnny will be gone in the morning anyway and can let this fantasy go and come back to reality.

-

Simon doesn’t dream that night.

Instead, he wakes slowly, the light from the sun bleeding into the crevices of his closed blinds. It’s been ages since he’s slept so well, the last time had been when…well before Johnny’s death.

Simon allows himself a few more minutes of respite, before moving himself to sit up before he’s abruptly stopped by a quiet groan below him. Simon’s eyes snap to the man below him, wide brown eyes linking with sky blue, the sun warming the hue just so.

Simon remains frozen as he stares. Tentatively, Not(?) Johnny’s hand moves to rest on Simon’s face, and god that smile, Simon doesn’t know how he could ever live without it. 

“How are you…?” The words die on Simon’s throat, never has he had a hallucination that’s lasted this long. 

“You’re not going mad, I’m here, I just so happened to break a few rules of the world.” Is all Not(?) Johnny whispers into the shared air between the two of them.

Simon doesn’t respond, his exhausted brain trying to kick into overdrive. Logically he wants to say he’s still hallucinating, but this is-…it’s all too real.

Not(?) Johnny has saturation back into his skin, the vague transparency barely there. But that warmth feels so real as it radiates from Johnny’s body underneath him.

“What?” Is all Simon can manage out, his mind raging with questions and disbelief. But there in the center of his being is that stupidly bright hope that he thought he snuffed out ages ago.

Not(?) Johnny continues to caress Simon’s cheek, knowing all too well what’s going on in Simon’s head.

“I made a deal,” Johnny starts softly.

“But before I explain, do you truly believe I’m here?” 

Simon looks at Not(?) Johnny for a moment, his mind reeling and lost. He wants to say yes, that he sees that his Johnny is right there, but he knows he shouldn’t, knows this is at the end of the day, is all a ruse his mind is playing on him. So slowly, ever so slowly he shakes his head.

Not(?) Johnny sighs but doesn’t look surprised. “Can’t blame you, I would think the same too, were I in your position.” 

They stare at each other for a long moment,  Not(?) Johnny, clearly thinking. After a moment that feels like hours, though was probably no more than just a few seconds, Not Johnny leans forward, his hand still resting on Simon’s cheek as the other guides his lips to Simon’s.

The kiss is soft and at first barely there. But it’s undeniably real. It’s undeniably real as soft lips meet chapped scarred ones and the kiss turns to tongue and teeth. It’s undeniably real as Simon gets pushed on his back, Johnny on top of him as he pushes deeper into the kiss, like he can’t get enough. Like it’s a breath of oxygen after resurfacing above water after almost drowning. 

Like he’s alive.

It’s undeniable as Johnny’s tears fall to Simon’s face, as he pulls back to sob into Simon’s neck, apologizing for leaving Simon for so long, apologizing for the pain Simon had gone through with Johnny’s absence.

Simon reaches out to embrace his lover, the Scot having no transparency and the bullet wound in his head nothing more than a scar. With a gentle hand, Simon reaches up to feel said scar, the wound is fair and no blood remains.

Simon shushes Johnny’s apologies as they both allow their emotions to break through the dam. Never once would he ever blame any of this on Johnny. Johnny would never be the one to blame. Never.

As both of their adrenaline calms down and the world expands to be more than just the two of them, they lay back down as they were earlier. Simon’s balaclava discarded and thrown somewhere on the floor; Johnny had requested to see his face and how could Simon ever say no to his Johnny.

“How?” Simon asks eventually as his brain catches up with the fact that his once dead lover is now, not dead.

Johnny’s hand in Simon’s curls pauses as a focused look appears on Johnny’s face, a telltale sign that he’s thinking.

“It’s going to sound crazy.” Johnny says quietly, like he himself is still trying to believe it.

“I wouldn’t expect any less, especially after I watched you die only for you to come back out of nowhere.” Simon responds bluntly.

Johnny smiles at Simon. “You know me too well, Si.”

There’s a moment of silence, nothing but faint footsteps of the rookies being run about through their courses and birds whistling and chirping outside.

“I had died, which… I’m still getting over that.” Soap starts, his eyes focused on the ceiling above, trying to think.

“I had heard a voice, I don’t know who’s and I didn’t know the words being spoken but I somehow just…understood.” Johnny’s eyebrows furrow, Simon says nothing so Johnny can keep his focus.

“They had said they’d were bored and decided that I could have a chance to beat death. I agreed,” Johnny’s eyes flick to Simon’s for a moment with a slight smirk on his face.”I couldn't stay away from you for too long.” His voice softens again as he speaks, his hand continuing its carding through Simon’s hair.

“It had two main parts to it. The first would be that I would be in someone’s dream, that person would have to take my hand. If they never did then I would’ve been stuck there for the rest of eternity. If they did grab my hand…” Johnny looks Simon in his eyes just as soon as Simon understands. 

“…then part two would happen. I would be brought into the physical world, but I would be nothing more than a ghost, really. Which I guess I was. I was see through, couldn’t pick anything up and no one could see me. Not even you.”

Simon’s eyebrows furrowed as a bout of confusion spread through him. “But I did see you.” Simon says and continues after a beat. “You took my cigarette.” Johnny nod’s and gives a small chuckle.

“Aye, you did see me, but not before. I was following you all day. But I couldn’t get your attention, I tried Gaz and Price too, but to no avail.” 

“So why was I able to see you on the roof?” Johnny looks at Simon for a moment as his mouth opens and closes like a fish for a few moments before he shrugs.

“My best guess is that you hit a good point of denial.” A sad look settles in Johnny’s eyes, a thousand apologies settled in them. 

“And that made you visible?”

Johnny shrugs. “The way for the deal to work was that to bring me back completely, someone had to truly believe I’m still here- or more so that I can be brought back. So I guess so. I never really asked beyond what I was told. If I know anything, it’s to not fuck with deity and their patience.”

They both let that implication seep and float into the air.

“So that’s why you’re back now.” Simon asks quietly, though it’s more a statement then anything else. 

“Believe so.” Johnny moves to give a soft kiss to Simon’s forehead. “Only a scar left to savor the memory by.” Johnny jokes though it lands a slight bit sour, Simon doesn’t say anything though, he knows he joked about worse and at the worst times.

They lay together for a long while, long enough that Simon is sure he’ll be hearing from Price soon. Simon knows Price knows what Ghost and Soap were or…are, though he never said anything. The man is simply always a few steps ahead. But given so, he knows price has given him a bit more leniency, though notably he’s done the same for Gaz. A good captain, that Price.

“What did it feel like?” Simon eventually asks. He’s met death's face more times then he can count, but he’s never slipped so far into death's cold hands to be taken.

“What did what feel like?” Johnny asks. It was deflection, they both know it. 

“Death.” Johnny goes quiet once Ghost says the words. Johnny’s eyes search the ceiling once again, as though it could give him answers to Simon’s query.

“Cold.” Is all Johnny can muster.

“I’m sorry.”

Johnny’s eyes fall back to Simon’s bourbon gold. “I know love. You couldn’t have changed anything.”

Simon had lots of arguments against that statement. That Johnny should get away from run far away from the curse that is Simon Riley, that he had survived him once, what are the chances he would survive again? 

But right now, he can’t help but be a bit selfish. To enjoy the company of his lover that he thought he lost for good. His Johnny. His Johnny that is warm with a beating heart. His Johnny who is alive and breathing and there.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t reach for you sooner.” Simon speaks into Johnny’s chest, his ear listening to his favorite song that only Johnny’s heart can make. Once again, the other’s eyebrows furrow in slight confusion.

“In the dream, it took me months to get to you and even this time when I did, I almost missed.” Simon elaborated the unspoken fear that Simon would have been keeping Johnny trapped by his failure to reach him settled between the two. Johnny didn’t say anything.

“But you didn’t, and because you didn’t, because you were so determined, I’m here. Even if you didn’t, even if you missed a thousand more times, I would have been happy to just see that once more. You made death a little less cold… which is shocking since you seem to be a human fridge.” Johnny gave enough time to let his words be genuine and heard before he said that last part, It wouldn’t be Johnny if he didn’t have a joke in there somewhere.

Simon can’t help but smile. He knows the both of them are fucked in the head, especially after all this. Simon wonders if the two of them should consider retirement though that thought seems to petrify Ghost. Maybe a thought for another time.

 Leaving right here and right now to be a warm moment with soft kisses and words between Johnny and Ghost.

Not even death can do them part.

-

[drowningkeyborad]

De Rolo Kids Headcanons

Disclaimer: These headcanons have no set timeline in the CR universe. I just like to keep them safe in my back pocket.

Vesper De Rolo

The oldest child

Part of me thinks that she has some mild case of ‘Only Child Syndrome’. For a while, it was just her, Percy, and Vex. Then the twins came along. I don’t think there is a canonical confirmed age gap, but given that Vesper is about 30 in her last canon appearance; I ballpark the age gap between her and The Twins at about 9-10 years.

 She’s the oldest child AND eldest daughter… so that’s a lot

Her white hair comes from Vex being pregnant with her while she was a Champion of The Dawnfather.

Paladin Class. Worships the Dawnfather and can often be found by the Sun Tree. 

Vesper and Vax’ildan II bond over their respective faith practices. 

Takes after both her parents in the best ways. But this can also backfire. 

Spends most of her free time reading or painting. Her preferred reading material is non-fiction and history. 

She’s just as unhinged as the rest of her siblings, but tends to keep it out of the public eye better than the others. 

Loves painting. Like REALLY loves to paint. Her room looks like the inside of Rapunzel’s tower in Tangled. 

Yeah, turns out those paintings were linked to oracle powers–

Anyway– that means she’s off on an adventure! She likes to take her siblings with her, when they’re old enough. Leona and Vax’ildan II are her favorites to travel with. 

Despite the 9-10 year age gap, Vesper and Wolfe bond over being the ‘Eldest Daughter’ and ‘Eldest Son’ of the De Rolo family. 

Gwendolyn and Vesper have a very close relationship, despite having the biggest age gap of all the kids. They share a love for history and fashion. 

Has no real interest in politics, but given the order of her birth, she pays close attention in the case she might have to replace her Aunt Cassandra’s seat.

Heavy Weapons AND Heavy Armor girlie!! Will smash your skull in and look cute while doing so.

Wears her white hair in a messy side braid. Just like her mama <3

Wolfe Kristoff De Rolo

Contrary to most headcanons I’ve read about him; this boy is his father’s son. The Einstein of the new generation. 

Demisexual 

Definitely found old blueprints of Pepperbox and thought “I could do better”. And he did.

Fighter/Artificer Multi Class

Acts the most ‘Noble-like’ out of all his siblings. 

Will throw money and his family name at all of his problems. (“My father will hear about this.”)

“I’m gonna k*ill myself.” – Wolfe, at any minor inconvenience

The most sought after bachelor in Whitestone. Weekly, Percy and Vex are approached by other nobility with the proposal of a political marriage of Wolfe and their own heir. If it’s not nobility; it’s townspeople trying to catch the inventor out of his Workshop to ‘get to know him’.

Wolfe has threatened to Crash Out if either of his parents even considered one of the offers. 

Very well-versed in both engineering and politics. 

Accidentally invented the Printing Press at the age of twelve… He was trying to make a stamp for his dad and it just got out of hand. 

Took a really nasty fall when he was younger. Probably climbing on something he wasn’t supposed to. Resulted in a broken arm and busting his head open. 

Has a scar on his forehead from the fall. His brown hair turned white where the scar meets his hairline. 

Big into hair & skin care. Always has lotion on his person at all times.

Dresses like Percy in Vox Machina Origins. Thigh high boots people…

Take the demon-murdered family-torture trauma from Percy, keep the brains, add a healthy noble upbringing, and tune up the cockiness by ten; ya get Wolfe. 

Hear of Hearing! Boy is around heavy machines and gunfire all day. Sounds like he’s yelling most of the time, but his family knows it’s because he cannot hear them.

Learned Sign Language because of his hearing loss. 

Has to spray Gwendolyn with water like a cat to keep her out of his Workshop. 

Jealous of how free spirited his twin sister can be. He wished he could naturally let go of his worries the way Leona does. 

Leona De Rolo

Middle child. Literally. Between Wolfe being two minutes older than her, then followed by Vax’ildan and Gwendolyn– Leona is smack in the middle.

A bi queen

She loves hunting, target practice, etc. Anything to get a bow in her hands.

Thick-ass glasses and she HATES them! They’re so annoying when she’s trying to hunt/fight in the rain or snow. Still has a deadly aim though. 

Very competitive. She’s the reason the De Rolo family can’t have a game night. 

Fighter/Ranger Multi Class

Good fucking luck trying to tame her lion’s mane of hair. Vesper, Vex, and Gwendolyn have all tried to help her tame it, but it just gets put into a messy ponytail/bun/braid.

Very much a tomboy. Takes to wearing suits and more masc-leaning clothing. Hasn’t worn a dress or skirt since she was like seven years old. 

Wolfe has even commented on how she pulls off suits better than he does. 

She would never tell him, but that compliment has stuck with her for years. 

Often has to push/tackle her twin out of harm's way because he’s hard of hearing.

She and Vex bond over their shared love for the woodlands. There was a time the two of them were camping together, and Vex opened up about her own twin brother. That was the first time Leona had ever seen her mother cry…

She silently vowed to never let something like that happen to Wolfe.

Doesn’t care much for engineering like her father and twin, but she will willingly listen to them ramble on about whatever rabbit hole they’ve both fallen into. 

A small, dark part of her is jealous of Wolfe and how he seems to be admired by everyone. Everywhere. 

Will kill anyone for looking at any of her siblings in a way she doesn’t like. 

She and Vesper travel together the most out of the siblings. Sometimes they’ll go on separate journeys and end up meeting in the middle anyway.  

Leona and Gwendolyn love to pull pranks together.

Vax’ildan Frederick De Rolo

Trans.

Trans, and I cannot be convinced otherwise. 

He 100% chose the name Vax’ildan. 

He’s very quiet. Usually lost in thought or just observing the people around him. 

Stares at people. 

Really good perception (checks). 

Cleric/Paladin Multi Class 

Cleric of the Raven Queen… Yeah, Vex was real happy about that…

His family calls him “Danny” or “Freddie”. He understands that “Vax” is reserved for their dearest friend. 

Wolfe calls him “Danny Boy”. It’s Vax’ildan’s favorite nickname. 

Mama’s boy to the max. Vex, like all parents do, says she doesn’t have a favorite. But everyone knows it’s Vax’ildan II.

Vex was the first one Vax’ildan II came out to as trans. Then Percy, then his siblings, etc. 

“Yeah, dude, we already knew.” “...What?” 

Just like his uncle; Vax’ildan II had been/is watched by the Raven Queen. 

When he accompanied Vesper to her faith work, he would often wander off and be found by the Raven Queen’s Shrine. 

Ravens follow this poor kid everywhere. To the point that Leona has offered to shoot them on multiple occasions.

Fell through a frozen lake when he was about ten years old. It scared his family to death, and he was grounded to sleeping in his parents’ bed for like a month (Vex physically would not let him go.) 

He tried to explain that he was “-following the guy in the raven cloak who had daggers.” 

The reality of the situation didn’t hit him until a few years later, but he still felt no dreaded fear for when it happened. 

The only one allowed to come-and-go into Wolfe’s workshop as he pleases. Likes to sit in the back and read his books.

I could write a whole book on this kid. 

Gwendolyn De Rolo

Daddy’s girl 100%. It's canon.

The little game that Percy and she play during parties is just training her for trouble. 

Rouge Class through-and-through. 

Learns how to use a rapier from her Auntie Cassandra 

Around the age of fifteen, she starts asking to go by just ‘Gwen’. It’s much less of a mouthful, and something about dropping the lengthy name took a weight off her shoulders.

The age gap between her and the rest of her siblings puts a little bit of a strain on things when it comes to relatability. What would an eleven year old Gwendolyn have in common with a twenty-six year old Vesper? 

They all make it work though. 

Aside from Vesper; Vax’ildan II is the next sibling that Gwen is closest to. No one else in the family has the same level of spying skills and likes to gossip as much as she does– except for Danny. They talk shit about other people all the time.

Danny and Gwen’s relationship is similar to that of Cassandra and Percy. 

I can see her picking up bow skills from both Leona and Vex. Having her as a Rouge/Ranger multi class would be deadly.

Cuts her hair when she’s older and likes to keep in short afterwards

Can rattle off years worth of history of about any city/town/ceremony site she steps into. 

Despite her family not seeing her as anything other than their sister/daughter; Gwen feels, in a deep part of her, that they look down on her for being a Tiefling. More so WHY she’s Tiefling. 

She and Leona love to pull pranks on the rest of their siblings together.