#by Casually I mean Mentally Screaming

[exhuastedpigeon]

Sometimes I sit back and think about how almost all of the most insane and unhinged stuff about Buddie is stuff that, before getting into 9-1-1, I thought was fanon.

I started watching at the end of s6 and binged watched s1-s6 and I thought I was getting into another show where two guys stand near each other and the fandom ran with it and instead I got Buddie. I was sitting there watching being like.. wait this is all in the actual show? I thought it was all fan created stuff.

-> Eddie's introduction being set to "Whatta Man"? I thought that was a fan edit. -> Buck getting bashful after Eddie says "You can have my back any day" felt like something you'd see in fanon until you watch it ant realize it's canon. -> The entire Christmas elf scene -> Eddie holding Buck's hand while Buck is trapped under the ladder truck -> "There's no one in the world I trust with my son more than you" with Ed Sheeran playing over it??? CANON???? -> "Wanna go for the title" -> Buck digging at the earth like he could get to Eddie through 40 feet of mud is canon???? -> Eddie seeing flashes of Chris and Buck while he was buried under ground was canon and not an edit (this one blew my mind I'm not gonna lie to you). -> Chris ran to BUCK when he was mad Eddie was dating someone. -> The whole "construction on sunset" scene being that domestic blew my mind too. What do you mean that was actually in the show. -> The entire shooting scene? I genuinely can't believe we got that one shot of them just staring at each other in slow motion -> "Just say with me" -> THE WILL??? I truly thought that was fanon until I watched it with my own two eyes. -> Buck and Chris spending time together without Eddie (Eddie's line about Buck taking Chris to the zoo all the time in s5 I was like.. I've read this fic before) -> Buck canonically worrying about Eddie's health and mental health in s5? How is that canon and not fanon? -> Chris calling Buck during Eddie's breakdown truly blew my mind. That was in canon. When Chris was scared and worried about his dad he called Buck! -> THE LOVE HEART BUCK DREW?? THAT WAS CANON?!? -> The small moments we get of them (both together and with Chris) that just have a different vibe than when they're hanging out with other characters. Again I thought that was fanon and it turns out, nope it's just canon. -> Eddie running up the ladder without a safety line to get to Buck (screaming Buck's name) when Buck was struck by lightening. -> EDDIE CALLED BUCK COWBOY! THAT HAPPENED IN CANON TOO?! -> Eddie yelling "DO MORE" when the get Buck to the hospital after the lightening. -> Poker night? The same episode when all the canon couples were on dates Buck and Eddie actually got dressed up and Eddie took Buck to a secret poker game? IN CANON! That isn't fanon either??!? -> Buck's entire "Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, Eddie" moment in 704. He was about to be kissed by another man and he said Eddie's name, what? 7 times? -> Buck being SO nervous about telling Eddie about his date with Tommy. Like just freaking out for an entire episode. -> THE BACHELOR PARTY?!? Those two being in cahoots is another thing that I thought was fanon at first and then you get moments like that and you're reminded it's canon. -> Buck being who Eddie turns to when he needs parenting support because he sees Buck as a co-parent of some sort. I still can't believe that's canon. Like in the text of the show Eddie has turned to Buck for parenting support multiple times. -> Buck being there when Chris left with his hand on Eddie's shoulder. Again, so insane that it's canon.

Anyway, this list is in no way comprehensive since there's a lot of other stuff in canon that I thought was fanon, but my god the list is already so long I don't think I need to add more. I didn't even touch on the casual touches and the way they're almost always looking at or for each other when they're in scenes together.

[pin-k-ink]

breaking point // hinata shoyo

tw ⇢ possessive!hinata, groping, obsessive behavior, semi-public fingering, cunnilingus, mating press, unprotected sex, dirty talk, mentioned masturbation, rough sex, squirting, fingering

wc ⇢ 4.4k

a/n: not proofread

"And here we have the star of today's match, Hinata Shoyo!"

Your bright voice immediately commanded Hinata's attention, shattering his previous conversation into irrelevance. As his eyes landed on you, he felt the breath still in his lungs.

'Good god, she's beautiful.'

The thought blossomed before he could stop it. You looked so perfectly poised and professional with your microphone raised, camera ready. But all Hinata could focus on was the elegant line of your jaw, the flushed hue across your cheeks, and the way your lips seemed to glisten invitingly.

Swallowing hard, he wrestled to regain his composure as you launched into the standard post-game questions about his performance. Hinata responded automatically while his gaze drifted lower, hungrily taking in the tantalizing glimpse of cleavage exposed by your blouse's neckline.

Get it together! He gave himself a mental shake, panic rising at his inability to tear his eyes away from your body. This was just a damn interview - he'd done hundreds, for god's sake! So why was he reacting like a hormonal teenager catching his first glimpse of undressed skin?

Maybe it was the way your skirt caressed the gentle swell of your hips as you shifted...or the soft, floral scent of your perfume that seemed to wrap around his senses in the most maddening way...

Inhaling deeply, Hinata dragged his wandering focus back to your lovely face, only to feel his attention immediately ensnared by your lips. They looked so incredibly soft and inviting as you spoke, he could barely track the meaning of your questions.

Without realizing it, Hinata found himself slowly drifting closer, drawn to you by some inexplicable gravitational pull. By the time your brows knit in confusion at his distracted responses, he was near enough to see the slight iridescent shimmer of your lip gloss...near enough to catch the lightest whisper of your shampoo's fragrance...

Fuck, get a grip! Hinata cursed inwardly, finally registering the wildly inappropriate hunger blazing through him like a fever. This was meant to be a professional interview, not his own personal peepshow!

And yet, he found himself utterly powerless to pull away from your enticing presence. His gaze flicked down to the gentle swell of your chest again as you inhaled, and he swore he could detect the barest hint of cleavage peeking from beneath the fabric.

"Is...everything alright, Hinata-san?" you asked with a small frown, no doubt perplexed by the dark look of unveiled yearning that had overcome his features.

Hinata's tongue instinctively swiped across his suddenly dry lips as his eyes locked on yours once more. Every fiber of his being screamed to close what little distance remained between your bodies and capture those perfect lips with his own. To satiate this maddening, inexplicable thirst you had instantly awakened within him.

But somehow, some small shred of self-restraint stopped the words from spilling out.

"Perfect," he husked instead, the gravelly timbre of his voice dripping with the undisguised want smoldering in his eyes. "Everything is...perfect."

After that first unsettling interview, you found yourself assigned to cover Hinata with increasing frequency. His star power was rapidly rising, and your segments with him always drew impressive views and engagement.

But each time you sat down with him, the charged tension seemed to ratchet higher.

During one post-game interview, Hinata casually rested his hand over yours on the microphone, his calloused fingers stroking your skin as he leaned in close to answer.

"That last set was a real nail-biter," he murmured, his intense gaze never leaving your face. "I love keeping the crowd on the edge of their seats, never knowing what I'll do next..."

You had to fight down a shiver at the double meaning layered beneath his words. Hinata's eyes sparked with mischief, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you.

Another time, as you wrapped up a courtside interview, Hinata unexpectedly pulled you into a quick hug. The gesture would look friendly and spontaneous to any onlookers...

But as he drew you against his chest, you felt his hand dip low to squeeze your ass, lightning-quick but unmistakable. Your gasp was muffled against his shoulder before he released you with a cheeky grin.

"Thanks for the great interview," he chirped brightly, as if he hadn't just groped you in front of thousands. "Always a pleasure!"

Then there was the interview after his Sports Illustrated cover was announced. Hinata kept you close as you spoke, his arm slung casually across your shoulders in a gesture that skirted the line of professionalism.

"It's such an honor," he said earnestly. "I couldn't have done it without the support of my biggest fans."

At that, his hand drifted down to toy with the ends of your hair, twirling the strands around his fingers in an unmistakably possessive gesture. To any viewers, it would look like an absent fidget.

But the heat in Hinata's gaze as it locked with yours made it clear - he was staking a subtle claim, right there on live television. You had to fight to keep your composure, even as your skin tingled beneath his touch.

As the months passed, Hinata grew bolder and bolder in his flirtations, always toeing the line while maintaining plausible deniability. Lingering touches, weighted words, heated stares that felt almost tangible in their intensity...

It was a dangerous game you were playing, trapped under the watchful eyes of the cameras. And part of you wondered how far Hinata would push before the tension finally snapped.

After a grueling five-set match, you found yourself waiting outside the locker room to snag a final quote from Hinata. The hallway was deserted, the rest of the press having already dispersed to make their deadlines.

You leaned against the wall, reviewing your notes, when the door suddenly swung open. Hinata emerged, his hair damp from the shower and his gym bag slung over one shoulder. He stopped short when he spotted you, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Well, well," he murmured, sauntering closer. "If it isn't my favorite reporter. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

You straightened, trying to ignore the way your pulse jumped at his proximity. "Just hoping to get a quick quote about that final spike. It was a pretty spectacular finish."

Hinata hummed, stepping fully into your personal space until your back hit the wall. "Is that so?" he mused, bracing a hand beside your head. "And here I thought maybe you just wanted to get me alone."

Your breath caught at the blatant suggestion, your eyes widening. "I...no, that's not-"

"Not what?" Hinata interrupted, his voice dropping to a low rasp. "Not incredibly tempting? Because I've got to say..."

His free hand came up to toy with the press badge dangling from your neck, his knuckles grazing the sensitive skin above your collar.

"...the thought of getting you all to myself, away from the cameras? It's been driving me crazy for months."

You swallowed hard, your head swimming with his intoxicating nearness. This close, you could see the flecks of gold in his warm brown eyes, could count each individual eyelash framing his heated gaze.

"Hinata-san," you managed weakly, "we can't. I'm supposed to be interviewing you."

His lips quirked up in a wicked grin. "Then interview me," he purred, ducking his head until his mouth hovered a hair's breadth from your own. "Ask me how badly I've wanted to taste your lips. Ask me how many times I've imagined peeling that prim little skirt off you and finding out what you're wearing underneath. Ask me how often I've had to jerk off in the shower, thinking about your mouth on my cock..."

A shaky exhale escaped you, and Hinata's eyes darkened with triumph. He knew he had you cornered, in every sense of the word. His body caged you in, his breath fanning across your parted lips in a maddening caress.

"You have no idea," he rasped, his nose brushing yours in a ghosting almost-touch, "how crazy you make me. How hard it's been to keep my hands to myself every time we're together."

To punctuate his point, his hand released your badge to trail slowly down your arm, calluses catching on your sleek skin and igniting sparks in their wake. Your breathing grew ragged as his fingers skimmed across your hip, circling to the small of your back.

Then he was hauling you flush against him, the hard planes of his body searing into your softer curves. A needy sound caught in your throat at the feel of him, firm and unyielding, against your frame.

"Hinata-san," you gasped, but whatever protest you'd intended died on your lips as he pressed his forehead to yours, his eyes blazing with raw hunger.

"Tell me you want me," he commanded roughly, his voice gravelly with desire. "Tell me I'm not the only one losing my mind with how badly I need you."

You trembled in his hold, your heart hammering against your ribs as his words seemed to brand themselves into your skin. Every nerve ending felt electrified, raw and oversensitized where his body pressed against your own.

But even as your very soul cried out to give in, to surrender to the magnetic pull of him, your rational mind clung to the tattered shreds of reason.

"Hinata, we...we can't," you managed, your voice thin and thready to your own ears. "This is...it's not right."

His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking beneath the taut skin, but he didn't release you. If anything, his grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging into the soft flesh possessively.

"Not right?" he echoed, a humorless laugh escaping him. "God, if you only knew how many nights I've laid awake, fantasizing about all the 'not right' things I want to do to you..."

His head dipped, his nose skimming along the column of your throat in a barely-there touch that had you shivering. You swore you could feel the heat of his lips hovering just above your racing pulse.

"I could take you right here," he rasped against your skin, his breath searing you like a brand. "Against this wall, until you're shaking and begging for me. Would you like that?"

A broken whimper escaped your lips, and you felt them curve in a wicked smile. "Yeah, you would," he purred darkly. "I bet you'd fall apart so sweetly on my cock, squeezing me like a vice as you come..."

Your head thumped back against the wall, eyes squeezing shut as his filthy words painted vivid pictures in your mind. It would be so easy to give in, to let him strip you bare and take you apart until you forgot your own name.

But the tattered remnants of your professionalism, already strained to the breaking point, wouldn't allow it.

"I can't," you whispered brokenly, hands fisting in his shirt as if to hold him at bay...or pull him closer, you weren't even sure anymore. "We can't do this, Hinata-san. Not...not like this."

For a long, endless moment, he remained motionless against you. You could practically hear the war raging within him, the primal need to claim you battling against the yoke of propriety.

Then, with a low, frustrated growl, he released you, stepping back just enough to sever the contact between your bodies. The sudden absence of his searing heat left you feeling bereft, unmoored, but you didn't dare reach for him again.

"This isn't over," he bit out, his tone dark with promise as his heated gaze raked over you. "Sooner or later, I'm going to have you. And when I do..."

He leaned in, his lips a hairsbreadth from your ear. "I'm going to ruin you for anyone else. You'll be mine, completely and utterly. Don't ever doubt that."

With those words searing into your very bones, he grabbed your jaw in a rough grip, capturing your lips in a hard, bruising kiss. His tongue swept into your mouth, claiming, conquering, and you were powerless to stop the whimper of need that fell from your lips.

Then he was gone. Turning on his heel and stalking away, leaving you weak-kneed and trembling in his wake. As you watched his broad shoulders disappear around the corner, one thing crystallized in your mind with startling certainty.

Hinata Shoyo was a man who worked hard to get what he wanted. And god help you, he wanted you.

The studio lights bore down on you as you sat beside Hinata, the camera crew adjusting the final settings before your joint interview. It was a big opportunity, a chance to discuss his recent accomplishments with a major sports network.

But all you could focus on was the heat of Hinata's thigh pressed against your own beneath the news desk.

"Thirty seconds!" the producer called out. You straightened your notes with hands that trembled imperceptibly, hyperaware of Hinata's solid presence mere inches away.

As the crew did their final checks, you felt a feather-light touch against your knee. Your breath hitched, gaze flying to Hinata's face, but he was staring straight ahead with an expression of perfect nonchalance.

Then his hand slid higher, fingers grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You barely suppressed a gasp, your entire body going rigid as he began to trace idle patterns against your flesh.

"Ten seconds!"

Hinata's touch grew bolder, his palm flattening against your thigh as it crept upward at a maddeningly slow pace. When his fingertips brushed the hem of your skirt, toying with the edge in a teasing caress, you thought you might combust on the spot.

"5, 4, 3, 2..."

You pasted on a bright smile as the camera light flashed red, signaling you were live. But even as you launched into your practiced introduction, you could feel Hinata's hand continuing its torturous exploration beneath the desk.

His fingers danced along the edge of your skirt, occasionally dipping just beneath the fabric to graze the lace edge of your panties. Each touch sent sparks of heat crackling through your veins, your focus splintering as you strained to maintain your composure.

Beside you, Hinata answered the questions smoothly, flashing his signature megawatt smile at the camera. But the hand on your thigh never ceased its maddening ministrations, slipping higher and higher until he was tracing the crease where your thigh met your hip.

You clenched your teeth as a shudder tried to rip through you, your hands white-knuckled. God, how were you supposed to concentrate with him touching you like this, live on national television?

But Hinata seemed utterly unaffected, bantering easily with the hosts even as his fingers crept to the apex of your thighs. When he boldly cupped your clothed pussy, barely stifling a groan at the damp heat he found there, you nearly bit through your lip trying to hold back a whimper.

"...wouldn't you agree?" the other host suddenly asked, turning to you with an expectant smile. Your heart lurched into your throat as you scrambled to recall what the question had even been.

"I...yes, absolutely," you managed, hoping your voice didn't sound as strained as it felt. "Hinata has certainly been a driving force behind the team's success this season."

Hinata's fingers pressed harder against your clit, the sudden friction nearly buckling your spine, and you had to disguise your choked gasp as a cough. Somehow, you maintained the semblance of poise, nodding as the host turned his attention back to the ace.

But beneath the table, the fingers between your thighs were a maddening pressure. He traced along the edge of your panties, then dipped below the lace to slide a thick digit along your folds.

"Shit," you breathed, barely above a whisper. You hoped the sound wouldn't pick up on camera.

Hinata smirked at you from the corner of his eye, clearly enjoying watching you come apart at his hand. With an agonizingly slow motion, he circled your entrance, spreading your slick wetness as you struggled not to squirm in your seat.

"Well, I couldn't do it without the support of my fans," Hinata interjected smoothly, shooting you a sly wink. "Especially my biggest fan right here."

You felt your cheeks flood with heat at the blatant innuendo, praying the camera would attribute your blush to the flattery. If only they knew just what Hinata was doing to you beneath the professional veneer...

The interview wrapped up shortly after, much to your relief. You maintained your smile as the hosts signed off, barely suppressing a shudder when Hinata gave your sensitive flesh a final, teasing squeeze before withdrawing his hand.

The second the camera light flicked off, you were shooting to your feet, your breath coming in shallow pants. Hinata rose more slowly, a knowing smirk playing about his lips as his dark eyes dragged over your disheveled form.

Heart pounding, you hurried into the dressing room, desperate to compose yourself after Hinata's bold touches during the interview. Your skin felt electrified, every nerve ending buzzing with barely suppressed need.

You braced your hands against the vanity, trying to slow your breathing. But then the click of the lock sounded behind you, and your pulse jumped into overdrive.

"You didn't think I was done with you, did you?" Hinata's voice was a low, dark rasp that sent shivers cascading down your spine.

You met his gaze in the mirror, your breath hitching at the raw, undisguised hunger burning in his eyes. He stalked towards you with predatory intent, his movements fluid and purposeful.

"Hinata," you managed weakly, your voice thin and thready. "We can't...not here..."

But he was already crowding into your space, his chest pressing against your back as his hands settled on your hips, firm and possessive.

"I can't wait anymore," he rasped, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. "I've held back for so long, but god, the way you respond to my touch..." His nose skimmed the column of your throat, making you shudder. "I need to feel you come apart for me."

Your eyes fluttered shut, a broken whimper escaping your lips. Every logical reason you shouldn't allow this, every professional boundary, seemed to evaporate like mist under the searing heat of his desire.

"Please," you whispered, the single word dripping with longing.

Hinata's hands tightened on your hips, a low groan rumbling through his chest. "Fuck, the things you do to me..."

Then his mouth was on your neck, your jaw, claiming each inch of skin with bruising intensity. One hand slid up your body to palm your breast through your blouse, calluses scraping your sensitive nipple and making you arch with a gasp.

"I'm going to take you apart," Hinata bit out against your skin, his voice tight with barely restrained need. "Gonna make you cum so hard you forget everything but my name."

Your head fell back against his shoulder, a moan spilling from your lips. You knew there would be no coming back from this, no way to pretend it never happened. But as Hinata turned you in his arms, his mouth slanting over yours in a searing kiss, you found you didn't care.

All you wanted was him.

Hinata hoisted you onto the vanity, his palms blazing a trail up the bare skin of your thighs as his tongue delved deeper. Your hands fisted in his hair, tugging hard enough to earn a groan of approval, and a wave of dizzying power flooded your senses.

He yanked your panties down your legs with such urgency, you swore you heard the lace tear. But before you could process, his hands were urging your thighs apart and his fingers were slipping through your soaked folds.

"So wet," he groaned, his fingers sinking into your heat and eliciting a sharp cry. "Is this all for me, baby?"

You whimpered a strangled affirmation, grinding desperately against his hand as he curled his fingers inside you. Your hands scrabbled at his shoulders, struggling to find purchase against the hard planes of muscle as he pumped his digits in a torturous rhythm.

"Shoyo," you whined, the plea falling from your lips without a second thought.

He growled, his eyes flashing dangerously at the use of his first name. His thumb flicked over your clit, drawing a strangled gasp from your throat, and you writhed beneath his touch.

"Say it again," he ordered, his free hand snaking up to fist in your hair and drag your gaze to his. The molten fire of his stare set your very soul alight.

"Please," you begged, no longer caring how wanton and desperate you sounded. "Shoyo, please!"

Hinata's teeth flashed in a wicked grin. Then his fingers were gone, and before you could mourn their absence, his head was dipping between your thighs.

The first swipe of his tongue had your spine bowing, a cry ripping from your throat. His grip on your hips was almost bruising as he feasted on your cunt, his tongue and lips and teeth working you into a frenzy. Your thighs clenched around his head, the heels of your stilettos digging into his broad shoulders. Pleasure crashed over you like waves, threatening to drown you, and still you couldn't get enough.

"Fuck, I could eat this sweet little pussy all day," Hinata groaned, the vibrations nearly sending you over the edge. "So fucking good."

His tongue speared into your core, and you shattered. The climax tore through you with the force of a freight train, your entire body convulsing with the intensity of it.

Your vision whited out, and for a moment, the only thing tethering you to earth was Hinata's hands. His tongue continued to work you through your orgasm, wringing every last drop of pleasure until you were shaking with overstimulation.

When the world finally came back into focus, you blinked blearily down at him. A fresh wave of heat washed through you as you took in the sight of him, lips glistening and pupils blown wide with desire.

"So pretty," he husked, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth in a gesture that should not have been so damn attractive.

But then he was hauling you closer to the edge of the vanity, and suddenly you were acutely aware of the hard length straining against the zipper of his dress pants. Your fingers itched to free him, to feel his bare cock heavy and thick in your hand.

Before you could act on the impulse, Hinata was shoving his pants down, his dick bobbing proudly against his stomach. You felt a fresh wave of wetness flood your core at the sight, anticipation and hunger thrumming in your veins.

"Tell me what you want," he rasped, the head of his cock teasing through your folds. You keened, your hips jerking up as you struggled to find the words.

"You," you managed, the desperation in your voice clear even to your own ears. "Shoyo, please..."

A groan ripped from his chest, the sound so feral, so animalistic, it should have frightened you. But instead, it sparked a fire low in your belly, a primal need to feel him buried deep inside you.

You kicked your heels off right as his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wide and pinning them back against your chest. He notched the thick head of his cock against your dripping cunt, and then he was plunging into you.

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, your hands scrambling for purchase against the vanity. God, the stretch was nearly overwhelming, but you were too far gone to care. Your walls clenched around him, your hips rising to meet his frantic thrusts.

"So tight," he bit out, his pace punishing as he pounded into you. "Shit, I'm not gonna last, baby. You feel too fucking good."

A sob fell from your lips, the pleasure bordering on painful as he drilled into you. The vanity slammed into the wall with each rough thrust, but you couldn't bring yourself to care about the racket. Not when you were so close to falling apart, his cock filling you so completely.

One hand left your thigh to rub furiously at your clit, the additional stimulation sending stars bursting behind your eyelids. Your cries grew louder, more urgent, and you distantly registered the possibility of someone overhearing. But the thought was gone as quickly as it appeared, lost in the haze of pleasure.

"Look at me," Hinata demanded, his voice rough with command. Your eyes snapped to his, and you nearly came on the spot at the unbridled hunger blazing in his dark gaze.

"You're mine," he rasped, the hand on your hip moving to squeeze your jaw. "Say it. Say you're mine."

"Yours," you gasped, the words a choked sob. "All yours, Shoyo!"

Hinata released your chin, his fingers returning to toy with your clit as he pounded into you. You could feel yourself hurtling towards the edge, the pressure building in your core until you were sure it would snap.

"Cum for me," he growled, his gaze locked with yours. "Wanna feel you fall apart around my cock."

Then his thumb and forefinger pinched your clit, and you shattered. White-hot pleasure ripped through your body, the shockwave sending aftershocks cascading through your limbs. Your walls clenched around him, the spasms almost violent as you squirted around his length.

"Holy fuck," Hinata groaned, his rhythm faltering as his own climax crested. He managed a handful of wild thrusts, burying himself to the hilt as he spilled inside you, coating your walls with his release.

He collapsed forward, bracing his forearms against the vanity. His forehead dropped against your shoulder, both of you gasping for air as you slowly drifted back down from the high.

Despite the fact that the vanity was now sticky with your combined releases, Hinata made no move to extricate himself from you. Instead, he nuzzled into your neck, pressing soft, lazy kisses to your flushed skin. His cock was surprisinglystill hard, the weight of him a grounding presence within you.

"Baby," he said after a moment, his lips quirking up in a smile against your collarbone, "think maybe I can convince you to leave work early today?"

A laugh bubbled up your throat, the joyful sound bright in the quiet room. "Why? So we can go home and continue this?"

"Mm, something like that," Hinata hummed, his grin widening. "And then you can help me celebrate my new Sports Illustrated cover by posing for me, naked, while I fuck you against every surface in my apartment."

[pucksandpower]

Black Magic

Charles Leclerc x witch!Reader

Summary: famously non-superstitious Charles takes drastic measures to break the Monaco curse

Charles rubs his temples as he stares at the phone, mentally rehearsing how he’s going to convince you to meet with him. He knows it’s a long shot — from what his mother told him, you’re not exactly eager to use your … abilities, as she called them. But he’s desperate at this point after years of the Monaco curse haunting him.

He takes a deep breath and taps the call button. It rings once, twice, three times before you finally pick up with a cautious “Hello?”

“Y/N? Hi, this is Charles Leclerc. I was given your number by my mother ...” His voice trails off as an awkward silence stretches between you.

Finally you respond, sounding confused. “Pascale? But why would she ...”

Charles rushes to explain. “She said you might be able to help me with … well, with breaking a curse of sorts. One that’s been plaguing me for years at the Monaco Grand Prix.” He pauses, cringing a little at how ridiculous he sounds saying it out loud.

There’s another long pause before you let out a soft sigh. “I should’ve known this would happen eventually. Listen, I only do that kind of thing for family emergencies these days. Curses and spellwork … it’s not something I take lightly.”

“I understand,” Charles says quickly. “But you have to know what the Monaco Grand Prix means to me. It’s my home race, the most meaningful one on the calendar for me. And yet, every single year something goes wrong — mechanical failures, crashes, bad strategy calls, communication issues. It’s like I’m cursed to never win it.”

You’re silent for a moment, seeming to consider his words. “I’m aware of the … situation,” you say finally. “But even if I did agree to look into it, breaking an actual curse isn’t something that happens overnight. It would take time and effort.”

“I’ll give you anything you need — time, money, whatever it takes,” Charles insists. “Just … please. I’m desperate here. My heart can’t keep taking these kinds of blows.”

Another pause, then a resigned sigh. “Okay, fine. But you have to promise to take this seriously and listen to what I say. No skepticism, no brushing it off as some kind of joke. This is real to me.”

Relief floods through Charles. “Yes, absolutely, I promise. When can you come by? I’m staying in Monaco until the race next weekend.”

“I’ll need a little while to prepare,” you say slowly. “But … I can try to come by Tuesday? We’ll need to talk more about this in person.”

“Tuesday is perfect,” Charles agrees eagerly. “Truly, thank you for this. I’ll make sure you’re well compensated for your time.”

You let out a small huff of laughter. “You keep your championship hopes, I’ll keep my soul. We’ll call it even.”

A bemused smile crosses Charles’ face at that. “Whatever you say. I’ll see you Tuesday?”

“Yes. I’ll be there Tuesday.” You hang up abruptly, leaving Charles staring at the phone with a mixture of hope and trepidation. He has no idea what he’s getting himself into … but he’s willing to try anything at this point.

Two days later, you show up at Charles’ apartment looking rather apprehensive. He ushers you inside, eyes raking over you with obvious curiosity. You’re younger than he expected, maybe mid-twenties, with a casual air and slight frame that doesn’t exactly scream “all-powerful witch“.

Still, he tries to withhold any skepticism as promised. “Thanks for coming. Can I get you anything? Some wine, or ...”

You shake your head. “I’m fine, thanks. I’d rather just get down to business if that’s okay.”

Charles nods and you both settle onto the couch, an anticipatory silence stretching out. Finally you clear your throat. “So. Tell me more about this … curse.”

And so he does, relaying in exhaustive detail the string of unlikely disasters that have befallen him at nearly every Monaco Grand Prix since he started in Formula 2. Crashes, mechanical failures, pit stops gone wrong, you name it … it’s like the racing gods have it out for him every year on his home streets.

You listen patiently, nodding along, your expression unreadable. When he finishes, you’re quiet for a long moment before speaking. “You know curses and superstitions have existed in motorsports for decades, right? It’s a high-adrenaline, high-risk environment … prime territory for that kind of thing to take root.”

Charles frowns. “Are you saying you don’t believe me?”

“I’m not saying that.” You shake your head. “I’m just … managing expectations here. Breaking an entrenched curse, if that’s even what this is, isn’t easy. It’ll take much more than a couple of days of spellwork.”

He lets out a frustrated breath, scrubbing a hand over his face. “So you’re telling me you can’t help.”

“I didn’t say that.” You eye him levelly. “I’m saying this is going to require time, patience, and an open mind from you. If you’re willing to put in that kind of commitment, then I’ll do what I can. But you have to go into this knowing it might not work.”

Charles is silent for a long moment, weighing his options. Finally he nods. “Okay. You’re right, I’ll stop being skeptical and doubting this. I’m ready to fully commit, whatever that takes.”

A small smile flits across your face and you nod. “Alright then. I’ll need to gather some supplies first, do you have anything personal I can use? Something meaningful, something that represents your driving?”

Charles scrambles up to rummage through his drawers, finally emerging with a battered red fireproof racing glove, handing it over to you. “Will this work? My godfather gave it to me when he first started teaching me to kart.”

You take it with a nod, turning it over in your hands. “It’s perfect. I’ll need to attune it and prepare a few … components.” You glance up at him. “This may take me a day or two. But after that, I can try to get a sense of what we’re dealing with.”

He nods, feeling that flicker of hope rekindle in his chest. “Sounds good. Let me know if you need anything else.”

You rise, slipping the glove into your bag. “I will. And Charles?” You hesitate, looking almost nervous for the first time since you arrived. “I know we’ve only just met, but … I want you to understand how serious I’m taking this. Messing with forces like curses … it’s not something I do lightly. If I can’t help in the end, it’s not for lack of trying, okay?”

Something about your sincere tone puts Charles at ease and he nods. “I know. Thank you for this … really.”

A shy smile ghosts across your lips before you slip out, leaving Charles alone with his doubts and hopes alike. Over the next couple of days, he tries to distract himself with race prep and strategy meetings, but his mind keeps drifting back to you and your mysterious preparations. He���s not sure whether to feel hopeful or just plain foolish for entertaining all of this curse nonsense.

Finally, Thursday afternoon rolls around and you arrive once more at his door, looking oddly serene. You accept his offered glass of wine this time as you settle on the couch, clutching the battered racing glove and a few other strange items.

“Okay,” you say, taking a fortifying breath. “I’ve done what I can to attune myself to your energy and prepare. I should be able to at least get a sense now of what we’re dealing with.”

Charles nods, feeling an anxious flutter in his chest as you close your eyes, seeming to slip into some kind of trance-like state. The seconds tick by, tension building in the air around you. Just when he’s about to break the silence, your eyes fly open with a gasp.

“Wow,” you breathe out, looking utterly stunned. “This is … wow.”

“What?” Charles prods urgently. “What did you see?”

You shake your head, almost looking scared now. “I’ve never encountered anything like this. The sheer scale, the power … Charles, this isn’t just some simple bad luck curse. This is dark, powerful magic rooted over years and years. Maybe even generations.”

A leaden feeling sinks into the pit of Charles’ stomach at your ominous words. “So you’re saying you can’t break it?”

“I didn’t say that.” You draw in a steadying breath. “But it’s not going to be easy. Or quick. This is going to take serious ritual work over an extended period of time. I’ll need more supplies, maybe some help from others. It’s … a huge undertaking.”

You look up at Charles, expression grave. “But I think I can do it. If you’re willing to fully commit and see this through, no matter how long it takes or what I need from you, then I’ll put everything I have into breaking this curse.”

Charles stares at you for a long moment, feeling the weight of what you’re saying. This is so much bigger than he ever imagined. Part of him wants to run from the sheer enormity of it all.

But then he pictures it — finally winning his home race after all these years, the crowd roaring as he drinks in the euphoric feeling. No more bad luck, no more disasters clouding his joy. Just pure triumph.

His jaw sets in determination as he meets your eyes. “Whatever it takes. I’m in.”

A slow smile spreads across your face and you nod. “Okay then. We’ll get started right away. This may get … intense at times. But I’ll be right here with you every step of the way.”

“Thank you,” Charles says fervently. “Truly, thank you for taking this on.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” you reply, something sparking in your eyes. “We’ve got work to do.”

And just like that, you dive into preparation mode — making lists, sending messages, gathering spell ingredients and components that have Charles raising his eyebrows more than once. He tries to follow along as best he can, but it’s like a foreign language to him.

After a while, he can’t help but ask. “So … did you always know you could do this kind of thing? The witchcraft, I mean?”

You pause, considering his question. “It’s a family tradition, passed down. My grandmother started teaching me from a very young age. But I’ll be honest … I never fully embraced it until recently.”

Charles feels himself grow curious. “What changed your mind?”

A strange look crosses your face and you’re quiet for a moment before replying. “My grandmother was ill. The doctors had … given up, more or less. So in desperation, I tried to help the only way I knew how. And it … worked, somehow. After that, it was hard to keep denying what I could do.”

“Wow,” Charles says softly. “That’s amazing. I can’t even imagine ...”

You shrug, suddenly looking almost shy. “It’s a lot, I know. Probably hard to wrap your head around. Which is why I appreciate you being so open-minded about this.”

Charles gives you a crooked smile. “Well, I’m relying on you here. I figure I should at least return the favor and be open-minded.”

A surprising laugh escapes you and you shake your head in amusement. “You’ve got a point there.”

A surprisingly comfortable silence lapses between you, broken only when you glance at your watch. “Alright, enough waiting around. We should get back to work if we want to be ready before race day.”

Charles feels nervous anticipation flutter in his chest again. “You really think we can pull this off that quickly?”

“We have to try,” you reply, already focused and in work mode once more. “Just be prepared … this isn’t going to be easy for either of us.”

Charles swallows hard and nods. “I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

Over the next several days, Charles is swept up in a whirlwind of strange rituals and practices — chanting, incantations, symbolic offerings, things he never could’ve imagined before this week. You lead him through it all with a calm patience, guiding him every step of the way.

It’s completely draining, leaving him wrung out and exhausted every night … but he can’t deny the noticeable shift he feels with each passing day too. It’s almost like a weight, a cloud of dread he’s carried for years, is slowly dissipating. He tries not to get his hopes up, but it’s hard … especially with the way your face glows with quiet pride whenever your eyes meet his.

Finally, the night before the race arrives. You’ve worked practically around the clock except for when Charles had to leave for free practice and qualifying, both of you barely sleeping or eating as you poured everything into breaking the curse.

As the sun sets over Monaco’s famed harbors and hills, you finally seem to pause, taking a deep breath. “Okay, I think … I think that’s everything we can do for now.”

Charles stares at you with a mixture of hope and trepidation. “You mean … it’s done? The curse is broken?”

You exhale slowly, looking suddenly drained but at peace. “As much as it can be, at least. The groundwork is laid, the ritual completed. But actually severing that kind of ancient tie ...” You shake your head. “We’ll have to see what happens tomorrow. I’ve done everything I can.”

Relief and gratitude wash over Charles as he reaches out to grasp your hand impulsively. “Thank you,” he says fervently. “For all of this … I can’t even begin to express how much it means.”

You seem surprised by his emotional outburst for a moment before squeezing his hand back gently. “You’re very welcome, Charles. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure I had it in me at first. But you put so much faith in me. That meant everything.”

He holds your gaze, feeling an unexpected sense of connection pass between you. So much has happened in such a short span of time — he came to you a skeptic, but now he feels like he’s been through a transformative experience. And you … you’ve put your entire being into helping him, far beyond any reasonable expectation.

The air almost seems to crackle with tension as you both search each other’s eyes. Then, as if drawn by an unseen force, you start leaning towards each other infinitesimally. Charles’ heart kicks up a staccato rhythm as your faces inch closer together ...

Until finally, your lips meet in a soft, almost hesitant kiss. It’s achingly gentle and sweet, at odds with the intensity thrumming underneath. When you finally part, Charles feels almost dazed, his heart pounding.

“Wow,” he breathes out, unable to tear his eyes away from yours. “That was ...”

“Yeah,” you murmur back, looking equally affected. “It was.”

A silence stretches out as you simply gaze at each other. So much has passed between you in these short days — an entire lifetime’s worth of intimacy and connection. It’s overwhelming and exciting all at once.

Finally, Charles seems to shake himself out of the dazed reverie. Clearing his throat, he says gruffly, “Anyway, um … thank you again. I should probably try to get some rest before tomorrow.”

“Right, of course,” you respond quickly, flushing slightly. “The race. Yes, that’s … probably a good idea.”

An awkward pause hangs in the air before Charles blurts out, “You’ll be there though, right? At the race, I mean? As my guest?”

A slow smile spreads across your face and you nod. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He returns your smile, feeling lighter than he has in years. “Okay, good. That’s really good.”

With that, and one last lingering look, you gather your things and slip out, leaving Charles alone with his whirling thoughts and cautiously rising hope. He has no idea what tomorrow will bring — triumph or despair. But for the first time in his life, he feels like he’s not facing it alone.

As he climbs into bed that night, his mind keeps drifting back to that unexpected, electric kiss and the connection you seemed to share, if only for a moment. He can’t stop replaying it, the softness of your lips, the warmth of your skin ...

With a groan, Charles rolls over, trying in vain to shut off his thoughts. He needs to rest. Tomorrow is everything he’s been working towards for years — his best hope at finally ending the Monaco curse. And you’ll be there, your faith and magic bound to his dream.

Finally, Charles manages to drift into a restless sleep, his unconscious mind swirling with visions of chequered flags and your smiling face in the crowd. Whatever happens, he knows nothing will ever be the same after tomorrow.

***

The next morning dawns bright and clear, a perfect Monaco day. As Charles gets ready to head to the circuit, he can’t shake the anxious flutter in his chest.

This is it. His moment of truth.

Just before he’s about to leave, a soft knock comes at the door. When he opens it, you’re standing there looking almost as nervous as he feels.

“Hey,” you say with a small smile. “Thought I’d come wish you luck in person. And … give you one last thing for the race.”

You hold out a small silk pouch which Charles takes curiously. Opening it up, he pulls out the same battered racing glove he’d given you days ago, now embroidered with strange runic symbols.

“I imbued it with every protection ritual and good luck charm I could think of,” you explain. “As an extra boost on top of the work we’ve already done. Maybe it’ll help settle those pre-race jitters too.”

Charles feels a wave of affection crest over him as he looks at the glove, then back up at you. “You’re incredible, you know that?” He says softly. “Truly, I don’t know how to thank you enough for everything.”

You duck your head shyly, but he can see the pleased flush on your cheeks. “You don’t need to thank me. Just go out there and get that win you’ve been waiting for, okay?”

“I will,” Charles promises fervently. He pauses, then seems to make a split-second decision, stepping forward to cup your face in his hands. “And when I do … I’m taking you out for the biggest celebration Monaco has ever seen.”

Your eyes widen slightly, but you give a breathless little nod. “It’s a date then.”

The corner of Charles’ mouth quirks up. “It’s a date,” he echoes, letting his thumb brush over your cheekbone lingeringly before forcing himself to step back. “I should get going. But I’ll see you out there later?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you confirm, looking almost as flustered as he suddenly feels. “Good luck, Charles.”

He shoots you one last, blazing look before tearing himself away, hurrying out to his waiting car. The entire drive to the circuit, his heart is pounding wildly in his chest. He can’t decide if it’s just pre-race adrenaline or something more … something sparked by you and that searing, promising look you gave him.

By the time he arrives, gets into his race suit and fireproofs, and settles into the cramped cockpit of his Ferrari, Charles is wound up like a tightly-coiled spring. His eyes keep drifting over to the embroidered glove still clutched in his hand, feeling the weight of everything it represents — your devotion, your magic, and the hope of finally breaking free from years of heartbreak.

As the cars are wheeled out onto the grid and the pre-race festivities begin, Charles scans the garage until his eyes finally land on you. You’re standing with a perfect viewpoint, eyes already locked on him, and when you catch his gaze you mouth “Good luck“ with an encouraging smile.

A determination like he’s never felt before surges through Charles’ veins. He’s going to win this race, not just for himself but for you too after everything you’ve sacrificed. Giving a firm nod, he slips the glove beneath his suit and grips the steering wheel tightly, watching the lights flick from red.

And as they finally go green and the cars roar away, Charles leans into the first turn in pure focus and exhilaration. For once, his mind is clear of any doubt or dread about the Monaco curse. He can only think about racing, about achieving his dream ...

And afterwards, celebrating that dream coming true with you.

***

As the deliriously happy celebrations continue around him at Monza, Charles can barely catch his breath. The euphoria of a hard-fought victory is still pulsing through his veins, that cherished feeling never getting old no matter how many times he experiences it.

He’s in the middle of accepting congratulations from his mechanics when he sees a Sky Sports reporter, making a beeline for him with her microphone in hand. Trying to tamp down his giddy smile slightly, he turns to face her.

“Charles! Huge congratulations on another amazing win today,” the reporter gushes as soon as she reaches him. “You’re really hitting your stride this season, what a comeback from the early struggles.”

“Thank you. Yes, the team has been doing incredible work to get me a car capable of winning,” Charles replies graciously. “I’m just thrilled to be able to deliver for them.”

“And for the fans too, who have been utterly captivated watching this gripping title battle unfold,” she continues. “Speaking of which, I have to ask — the viewers have been flooding us with one question in particular recently. What’s the story behind those little symbols that keep popping up on your race suit collar? Some kind of good luck charms maybe?”

At the mention of the embroidered symbols, Charles feels his lips quirking up into a small, unconscious smile. He should have known someone would eventually ask about them — the fans on social media have certainly been speculating endlessly.

“Ah, you spotted those?” He says lightly. “Well, it’s um … it’s actually something my girlfriend does for me before every race weekend.”

The reporter’s eyes widen with obvious interest, scenting a prime bit of gossip. “Your girlfriend? We had no idea you were dating someone, Charles! Do tell us more.”

Charles lets out a slightly self-conscious chuckle, feeling the tips of his ears going pink. He’s intensely private about his personal life, preferring to keep you out of the spotlight as much as possible. But the story behind the symbols is too meaningful to brush off entirely.

“Yes, well my girlfriend prefers to stay out of the public eye,” he explains carefully. “Let’s just say she comes from a rather … unique background and heritage. She has certain talents and practices that are very important to her.”

The reporter blinks at him in obvious confusion. “Wait, is she some kind of … psychic or something?”

“Not exactly,” Charles demurs, fighting back an amused grin at the mental image. “More like … well, I suppose you could call her a witch, of sorts.”

A shocked silence falls over the surrounding reporters who have tuned into their exchange. For a long beat, no one seems to know how to react to such an unexpected revelation. Charles doesn’t think he’s ever seen the media look so bemused before.

Finally, the reporter seems to find her voice again. “A … witch?” She repeats slowly. “As in, like, cauldrons and broomsticks and the whole bit?”

Charles lets out a full laugh at that. “Well, not quite like that, no. But she does practice certain … rituals and magics, let’s say. Most of which, I’ll admit, still seems completely mad to me.”

The reporter’s expression is one of fascination now as she leans in closer with her microphone. “And she does these rituals and … magics ... for you? Before races?”

“Exactly,” Charles confirms with a nod. “She adds protective symbols and charms onto things like my race suit, my helmet, sometimes other items depending on the ritual. It’s her way of looking out for me, of sending some extra luck and security my way on race weekends.”

He pauses, his smile softening unconsciously as he thinks about you. “I’ll be honest, I was pretty skeptical of it all at first. The whole concept of witchcraft and curses seemed ... well, rather far-fetched, you know? But she’s been so devoted to her practices, so sincere in her beliefs about the positive energies she wants to send my way … how could I not start to believe in it too?”

The media seems to be hanging on his every word now, caught up in this bizarre but undeniably romantic tale. The reporter lets out a wistful sigh. “Well, it’s clearly been working like a charm so far this season! Maybe the rest of the grid had better start looking into getting their own race day witches on board.”

A ripple of laughter spreads through the group at that as Charles shakes his head in amusement. “Yes, I can see that becoming very popular around the paddock.”

“So does she come to all the races then, your witch girlfriend?” Another reporter pipes up curiously. “Is she wandering around doing spellwork in the backrooms?”

“Oh, no no, nothing like that,” Charles chuckles. “She prefers to keep things … subtle, let’s say. Just the little symbols and charms. Though she is here today actually.”

The reporter’s eyes light up like she’s just struck journalistic gold. “She is? And does she get to celebrate with you after wins like this?”

A soft, almost shy smile plays across Charles’ lips as he nods. “Yes, whenever her schedule allows she tries to come to the races. And we’ll definitely be celebrating together tonight, just us.”

He gets a slightly far-off look in his eyes, seeming to get lost in the thought for a moment. The reporters watching on collectively hold their breaths, waiting for him to divulge more juicy details about this mysterious girlfriend.

Finally, Charles seems to catch himself, clearing his throat. “But anyway, I should really get back to the team to share this incredible day with them properly.”

The reporter makes one last attempt. “Oh, go on, just give us her name at least? Enquiring minds want to know about this charming race day witch of yours!”

Charles throws her an apologetic look. “You know I have to protect her privacy. All I can say is … she’s pretty remarkable. And she’ll probably hex me if I start giving out too many details about her!”

Laughs and groans of disappointment rise up from the reporters at being denied the full scoop. But they know better than to push Charles too far. With some final shouted congratulations, they gradually disperse, no doubt rushing off to publish their articles about the shocking revelation of Charles Leclerc’s witchy girlfriend.

As the small crowd clears out, Charles feels a light touch on his elbow and turns to find you standing there, eyes sparkling with amusement and fondness.

“Well, you’ve certainly given the paddock something to gossip about now,” you tease lightly. “A charming race day witch, am I?”

Charles makes a show of rolling his eyes, even as his cheeks flush a bit at your teasing. “What was I supposed to tell them? You know how much I hate discussing our personal lives with the media.”

“I know, I know.” You rise on your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’m just giving you a hard time. I thought it was … sweet, actually. How you talked about my practices.”

Charles’ expression softens as he gazes down at you. Ever since that electric evening in Monaco when you first worked your magic on the infamous curse (and him), your relationship has deepened into something truly beautiful. At first, he admits he was still somewhat skeptical of the mystical rituals and protective charms you claimed to do for him.

But race after race, as the victories kept mounting with no traces of bad luck or mishaps, he’s become nearly as devoted a believer as you. And it goes far beyond just race day superstitions now. Seeing the depth of your spirituality, your connection to unseen mystical forces, has opened his eyes in so many ways.

He pulls you flush against him, cupping your face tenderly as he murmurs, “I meant every word. What you do … it means everything to me, you know that right? Whether the magic is real or not, your rituals give me a sense of peace and security I’ve never felt before.”

You gaze up at him with those captivating eyes that never fail to make his heart stutter. “I know. And that’s why I’ll never stop doing them for you. You make me feel … connected. Vital. Like my gifts can actually make a positive impact, instead of being some weird family quirk.”

Charles lets his thumb gently trace the delicate line of your cheekbone, drinking in every detail of your beloved face. “They do make an impact, mon cœur. Probably more than either of us can comprehend.”

He draws you into a lingering kiss, one that sends delicious sparks of heat ricocheting through his body. When you finally break apart, you’re both smiling and slightly flushed.

“Mmm, I should really start charging the team for services rendered, if that’s the payment plan,” you joke breathlessly.

Charles arches one eyebrow at you. “Trust me, they would go broke in a week trying to keep up.”

You let out a full laugh at that, the musical sound making his heart swell. He loves this — the moments of playful intimacy and banter, feeling so incredibly grounded and content with you. Before you came into his life, such tender domesticity always seemed like an impossible dream given his lifestyle.

Pulling you close once more, he nuzzles into the soft skin of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent. “Let’s go home,” he murmurs huskily. “I have a victory to properly celebrate … and I require your particular skills again tonight.”

You shiver slightly in his arms, drawing back just enough to fix him with a heated look. “My skills are always at your service. Shall we summon a portal or ...”

He huffs out a laugh at your playful tone, secretly loving when you tease him about the more fanciful aspects of witchcraft. “Why don’t we just take the car for now? No need to alarm the locals by apparating in the middle of the paddock.”

Chuckling, you lean up to steal one more lingering kiss before murmuring, “Deal. Now let’s get out of here before that reporter comes sniffing around for more gossip.”

Taking his hand, you start leading him away from the crowded pit lane and back toward the nearby motorhomes. With every step, Charles can feel the thrum of excitement building in his veins, fueled by much more than just the adrenaline of his race win.

There’s a steady warmth pulsing deep within him now, a sense of gratitude and contentment that suffuses his very soul. Ever since that fateful day in Monaco when he let you into his life, everything has shifted into vibrant new focus.

He’s never been superstitious, not really — he prides himself on being practical, logical, leaving little room for spiritual or religious beliefs. And yet … with you, a whole unseen mystical world has opened up to him in the most extraordinary way. Even if he still doesn’t fully understand the intricacies of your rituals and practices, he knows with certainty how they make him feel.

Protected. Centered. Empowered.

Loved, more deeply than he’s ever experienced.

As you make your way hand-in-hand through the chaos of post-race celebrations, trading giddy grins and teasing jokes, Charles feels it all shining outward from his very core — past the fame, the accomplishments, the never-ending pressures of being an elite athlete. With you by his side, he’s found a serenity and sense of self far beyond what any championship could provide.

So tonight, as you cuddle together and let your energies flow over him in that uniquely intimate way, he’ll pour every ounce of devotion and love he feels right back into you. Because in the end, that’s the most powerful force of all — one that transcends even the wildest of your spells and charms.

As long as you two are bound together on this path, no force in the universe could ever curse him again.

[luneariaa]

ᯓ★٠ ࣪⭑ PIECE OF ART. ✧ KENJI S.

✰ — you and kenji being at the museum for plot reasons, kenji being sweet, pure fluff, might be ooc kenji, not much proof-read.

tagging : @xxladyballadxx @jinwoosungs @madeimoisellesoleil 💕

— ✩ m. list.

. dividers by @/strangergraphics 📜 !!

A LIGHT grin is present upon your features, further observing the scattered paper arts close by— passing it in an unhurried pace. Dressed ever so casually, to say the least, yet perfectly fitting to the current location you were in. A sight to behold that still manages to go unnoticed within the sea of people.

It is just the beginning of the eventide, and the museum still continues to open and welcome new visitors as always. Your sole figure remains there, blending in with the several other people with dexterity.

The romantic time of the day, some may say. The mere location itself has given it away fully.

Due to the amount of passing minutes that you've been inside, you started to feel quite chilly all over— causing yourself to mentally curse for not bringing a coat along with you, blaming yourself for your small mistake.

It doesn't take long for you to endure with a slight shiver, when a certain someone suddenly covers your form up with a rather sizeable coat; warming you up almost instantly without fail.

Admittedly, you got startled from the gesture and the sudden appearance, before deciding to turn around to face the said person.

And of course, it didn't take long for you to be able to fully register upon the familiar sight altogether— eyes instantly widening with a beaming smile.

"Ken, you actually came!" Without wasting any second of hesitation, you pulled him into an embrace— burying your face onto his chest with pure joy.

"Mmhm," Kenji hums, adding more to his words further with an equally happy expression, along with a mellow tone. "Of course I do."

He gradually encircles his arms around you, returning the embrace with equal fervor. Lowering his head ever so slightly, he silently allows you to burrow your face further against his chest for the time being— relishing within one another's mere presence.

Everything about him screams security, allowing yourself to drown into him without any worries; starting to feel more addicted as if he's some sort of a drug that made you hold onto life itself.

He's a famous person that is loved by many, and you're almost.. Nothing, like him. It's what keeps you questioning sometimes, and the way you're able to establish a rather special connection with him.

The difference between you two is like day and night itself; one that is vast and perceptible. Yet if only you knew— that Kenji never once is bothered by any of those existing statuses, not even the slightest. He appreciates you for being who you truly are.

"I figured that you'd be quite busy. I mean, I understand if you're unable to stop by earlier, y'know."

"Hey, don't worry about it." Just like that— he's able to dispel the existing anxiousness within you effortlessly so, still keeping his hold around you with just the right amount of force; not too assertive, and it just felt right.

"I'll always make time for you, my love."

His simple response made you beam in delight; noting the truth of his words alone.

No one is around the area that you both are in, does it-? It's as if nothing much mattered at this present moment, shielding yourselves with the makeshift reality that you both have unconsciously created— lost within your own little world without a care.

The stillness around the both of you, except for the occasional breathing sounds, makes the moment special somehow. You could clearly feel the heat radiating off from him and his coat alone; his warm breath brushes past your ear.

"Feeling any better now?"

"Yeah," you nodded with a grateful smile of your own. "Thank you, Ken."

Has he ever told you on how much he loves it whenever you call him Ken? It just hits different whenever you call him like that. He would lose his damn mind if he wants to.

"I appreciate you a whole lot," you added. "You don't usually go to places like this, that is."

"I just can't help myself but to come and see you.." A velvety chuckle slips past through his lips— planting a small kiss upon your forehead before gently pushing you away for a bit, just so that he could gaze at you.

"Honestly, I just— yeah, I missed you, a lot. I know I've been busy lately, but still.."

Kenji is speaking nothing short of pure honesty lacing his words. He misses the feeling of your frame against his own; letting his thumb tracing the contours of your face with such delicacy— every detail of your features none left untouched.

"What if I told you that I feel the same way too?" A cliche answer, but it works every single time.

Your gaze now darted towards the large painting ahead, which ostensively have shown a pair of lovers— holding onto one another as the life of the other gradually withers away.

He simply chuckled over your statement, immediately taking notice of the shift of your gaze; following your line of sight after.

"The painting looks a bit depressing, to say the least," he remarks, paying close attention about what the artist is trying to convey through the art.

"Yeah." You approached closer to the aforementioned painting, and the coat— his coat, still settled snuggly around your figure, trying your best to discern the details as well.

"I wonder what goes through the artists' mind while making this."

Kenji now stood beside you; the height difference very much noticeable. His eyes seemed to be observing it in every angle possible as well, placing his chin atop of your head from behind— no longer standing beside you.

"I'm curious about it too."

"Maybe it was meant to portray, you know— some tragedy?"

"Well, that definitely worked." He agreed along with your words, accompanied with a quick nod.

When he's sure that you're not looking at anywhere else but the painting alone, Kenji took the opportunity to glance down at you, secretly— or not-so-secretly, admiring the way his coat hangs around you almost loosely; yet fittingly so. You looked so beautiful to him like this, and he didn't dare to let his mind wander too far.

At this point, you didn't have to bring him along to the museum to see the arts, when you are the whole art itself.

A precious piece of art that he would love to keep with him for as long as he's breathing— if you would let him.

Every single part of you screams divine perfection to him. The way your eyes would light up whenever you see anything that interests you, or the way you would bite your lip in pure concentration unknowingly.

The way you speak, and the way you walk— God, don't get him started on the way he would always, successfully so, getting any sort of reaction out of you. The list is endless, and it felt like a personal reward, one that he's not-so-willingly share with anyone else.

No one can truly blame him for doing so, honestly. Kenji couldn't help it— he cherishes you so much that it almost hurts so good. Not out of obsession, but damn, that man loves you a little too much.

Nevertheless, nothing is truly too much for him to love you just the way you are.

Yet rightfully so, you never minded even the slightest. Kenji could never get enough of you; his love for you is always, and somehow, endless.

You smiled lovingly underneath his soft gaze, rubbing his own arm that's currently encircling around you so tenderly. You know that stare, but you just didn't want to point it out and simply wanted to relish within that feeling.

The people might see him as the arrogant, boastful person in the public eye— a mere facade that he puts up every so often when it deems necessary. But he acts so differently whenever he's around you, daring himself to let his walls down and be completely vulnerable with you.

With you, he has nothing to hide, shamelessly showing and proving his devotion to you alone; showing you a side that only you get the privilege of seeing it.

Kenji Sato will never cease to treasure you.

@luneariaa. do not repost; reblogs are welcomed. all rights reserved.

[meazalykov]

filming

lena oberdorf x actress!reader

summary: while filming in london, you have a special guest visit you at work

you're standing on set, mentally exhausted but pushing through as you try to channel the villain you're playing. 

the heavy makeup, the dark clothes, everything about the character feels so different from who you are. it's been a long day, and while you're focused on your next scene, your thoughts keep drifting to lena, knowing she's in london too, playing against arsenal with wolfsburg in the champions league semi-final. 

you wish you could be there, but acting doesn’t exactly allow for last-minute trips across town.

"hey, can you turn around for a sec?" your costar says casually, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"uh, sure?" you respond, a little confused as you turn.

the sight that greets you makes your heart skip. lena's standing there, a playful smirk on her face, with sveindis right beside her. 

you blink, trying to register that they’re actually here, in the flesh, on your film set.

"what the hell?!" you exclaim, rushing over to them. "what are you doing here?"

lena chuckles, taking in your costume. "i had to see this for myself. my girlfriend, the horror villain. you look... terrifying, baby."

you laugh, rolling your eyes. "yeah, yeah, i know i look like i just crawled out of the underworld and the SFX makeup doesn’t make this any better. but it's just a character, promise. i'm still me under all this." 

"thank goodness," lena jokes, stepping closer and pulling you into a tight hug. "though, it kinda suits you."

"oh, shut up," you nudge her playfully, feeling a warmth settle in your chest at how easily she makes everything feel lighter. "i missed you."

"i missed you too," she murmurs, kissing your temple. 

you turn to sveindis, grinning. 

"and you! i can't believe you both came here. you know you’re my favorite of lena's friends, right?"

sveindis laughs, shaking her head. "i mean, i try."

"seriously though," you sigh, "i wish i could come to your game. it’s killing me that i can't be there."

"we know," lena says, her voice softening. "but you’re busy, and you're killing it here. we get it."

you nod, biting your lip. "yeah, but it still sucks."

"you'll see us in the final, though," sveindis adds confidently.

"damn right i will," you grin. "you better win."

"we'll try our best," lena says, squeezing your hand.

they don’t stay long, knowing you're in the middle of filming, but before they leave, lena gives you another quick hug, whispering, "i’m proud of you, you know that?"

"i'm proud of you too. now go crush arsenal," you whisper back, your heart swelling with love as they walk away.

you spend the rest of the day filming, but your mind keeps replaying the moment with lena, that grounding presence she always brings with her. 

when the director finally calls cut for the day, you’re exhausted but relieved to be done. 

as soon as you’re back in your trailer, you pull out your phone and check the score. wolfsburg won. 

you waste no time pulling out your phone to call lena. as soon as the ringing stops, you hear her excited voice on the other end.

“hey, baby! we did it!” she practically yells, and you can hear the noise of celebration in the background.

you can’t help but laugh, her energy contagious. “i saw! i’ve been dying over here, refreshing the score like a maniac.”

“you should’ve seen it,” lena says breathlessly, still riding the high of the win. “it was insane. poppi scored the winner, and everyone lost their minds!”

“i’m so proud of you,” you say softly, smiling to yourself. “i wish i could’ve been there.”

“don’t worry about it. you’re working hard too,” she reassures, though you can hear a little hint of longing in her voice.

“well,” you pause, biting your lip, “i’ve got news. i’m taking time off to come to eindhoven for the final. i’m gonna be there.”

there’s a beat of silence before you hear her gasp. “you’re serious?”

“of course! there’s no way i’m missing this. i’ll be in the stands, screaming my head off for wolfsburg.”

“oh my god,” lena breathes out, and you can practically see her smiling. 

“that’s... that’s amazing. i didn’t think you’d be able to make it.”

“well, i pulled some strings,” you tease, feeling a weight lift from your chest just knowing you’ll be there. 

you didn’t really need to pull any strings. the champions league game happens to fall on the week break that filming has. 

“and as soon as filming wraps for good, i’m coming back to germany. i promise we’ll have time again.”

“you have no idea how much i’ve missed you,” lena says quietly, her voice soft now, intimate. 

“it’s been so hard with both of us being so busy.”

“i know,” you whisper, “but we’ll get through it. we always do.”

“god, i can’t wait to see you,” she says, the happiness in her voice clear as day. “it’s going to be perfect.”

“i can’t wait either,” you reply, heart swelling with love. “and hey, tell sveindis she’s still my favorite for scoring the last three games, okay?”

lena laughs, a sound that makes you feel like you’re home even though you’re still on set. 

“i’ll tell her. she’ll be so happy about it since she's a fan of yours.”

“awee,” you joke, leaning back in your chair. 

“you two better get some rest tonight. you’ve got a champions league final to win soon.”

“don’t worry,” lena says confidently, “we’ve got this. and knowing you’ll be there... that’s all the motivation i need.”

“i love you,” you say softly, letting the words settle between you.

“i love you too,” she replies, her voice warm and full of emotion. “see you soon, okay?”

“see you soon,” you echo, smiling to yourself as you hang up. 

masterlist

[okaylikeschaewon]

Exchange Part 3: All Eyes

~5k words, male reader, smut

The morning started off so peacefully, a false promise of what was to come - not that you had any idea. If only some divine power could have warned you, maybe you would have convinced Lisa to let you stay in the bed. Or perhaps you would have skipped the coffee and ran out before being roped into an act you’d regret to enjoy. Alas, it was out of your control - at least that’s what you would tell yourself later.

A ray of light, sneaking through the barely-opened curtains and landing on your face, gently woke you up. There was yet again a set of limbs wrapped around you - this time you double checked to make sure it was actually the correct girl - snugly comforting you like a soft blanket.

Your actual blanket felt heavier than normal as you turned your body slightly and gave Lisa a soft kiss on the cheek, watching her eyes slowly open up. Her warm smile filled your circulation with comfort, that blissful expression of hers. You turned over to face her properly, when suddenly you heard a scream as your blanket was yanked off the bed.

“Ow,” Jennie moaned, sitting up so that her head was peeking over the side of the bed.

Her messy hair accompanied by the loose shirt that only covered one shoulder was quite the look. It only got sexier when she stood up to reveal that the shirt was only accompanied by a very small pair of gray panties, one that left very little for the imagination as it creased between her legs.

“Why’d you kick me off the bed?” she whined, rubbing her head.

“Why were you on the bed?” Lisa laughed.

“You alright?” you asked, trying to show concern while holding back your own laugh.

Jennie climbed onto the bed between you and Lisa, cuddling into your open arms.

“No, kiss it better,” she said, making her voice all cutesy.

You kissed her forehead before rubbing it with your hand when suddenly you felt a hard smack on your own head.

“What was that for?” you gasped.

“I never said you can kiss her,” Lisa said sternly, sitting up in the bed.

“Oh, you only do what Lisa tells you to do now?” Jennie teased. “I guess you’re not as dominant as you act.”

“Is that so?” you said casually as you slid a hand down Jennie’s back, threatening a finger against her asshole.

“Do it,” she moaned, her fiery cat-eyes piercing you.

“How many others used this after I left, little slut?”

“Not a single one!” Jennie sighed, abruptly replacing the combative tone of her voice with one of pure exasperation. “Can you believe that? Even after watching you, they were still too scared.”

“What do you mean, when I left there was a line-”

“Yeah, for my throat, not my ass,” Jennie scoffed. “I always end up throating cocks all night at these parties.”

“True,” Lisa chimed in.

“Why don’t you just like, ask them to fuck your ass,” you laughed. “It’s not like they’d say no.”

“I know, but I wanted…” Jennie paused, thinking for a moment. “I guess I just wanted another surprise?”

“Like how I shoved my cock into your ass without telling you?”

“Excuse me, what?” Lisa’s eyebrows shot up. “Jisoo never told me about that part.”

“Yeah, can you believe your boyfriend surprise anal’d me?” Jennie asked while turning to Lisa.

“You better not even think about doing that to me,” Lisa said menacingly. “Do whatever you want with this slut, though.”

“Yeah, Lisa doesn’t like anal,” Jennie added casually.

“Noted,” you replied.

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” Lisa clarified. “I just need time to mentally prepare.”

“Lisa’s ass is really tight,” Jennie continued. “Too tight to put anything up there.”

“Noted as well,” you chuckled.

“It’s not too tight, you just suck at going slowly,” Lisa snapped back.

“It’s too tight,” Jennie fake-whispered to you so that Lisa could hear her.

Lisa gave Jennie a hard slap before yanking down her underwear and giving her bare ass another slap.

“Oooh Lisa,” Jennie teased her. “Your boyfriend spanked me harder than that.”

Lisa gave her a few more playful smacks which did nothing more than entice Jennie to stick her ass out even farther. Then she picked Jennie up by her hips, positioning the unruly girl on her hands and knees in the middle of the bed before raising her hand up high and bringing it back down.

“Ah, harder Lisa, harder!” Jennie moaned, her jaw hanging open as she stared at you with half-lidded eyes. “Punish me.”

A few slaps later and you could actually see a prominent red hue on Jennie’s cheeks - apparently Lisa was spanking her way harder than you realized. After one excessively loud spank, Jennie shrieked and fell forward flat on her stomach, her hands flinging behind her to cover herself.

“What the fuck,” Jennie cried, turning to Lisa.

“Hey you’re the one who said harder,” Lisa defended herself, smiling proudly.

“Not that hard,” Jennie whined, rubbing her ass.

“Aww I’m sorry,” Lisa ran her hand through Jennie’s hair. “One more?”

Jennie let out a heavy sigh, as if saying no wasn’t even an option.

“Fine.”

She moved her hands apart, exposing her bright red ass cheeks just for Lisa to send each one into a jiggling frenzy with a barrage of slaps, alternating between each cheek.

“Lisa, stop!” Jennie sobbed while trying to cover her ass again before giving up and rolling over onto her back.

“Oops,” Lisa giggled while Jennie glared at her. “Want my boyfriend to kiss it better?”

“No,” Jennie replied without hesitation. “I want you to kiss it better, he’s mean.”

“Hey, what did I do?”

“You stuck it in my butt without warning me last night,” Jennie replied while turning back over and sticking her ass up.

“Yeah and you literally just said you loved it,” you argued.

“Baby boy,” Lisa shushed you while slowly rubbing a finger across Jennie’s ass. “Give me a minute alone with her, please.”

Joining in, or even watching, was something you would have loved to do, but as per Lisa’s request, you got out of the bed. By the time you got to the door, both girls had stripped down, and Lisa’s face was already pressed into Jennie’s cheeks.

—

The coffee machine was borderline confusing with how many options there were. Such a machine probably cost thousands, easily, but for a room of this caliber it was just another drop in the bucket.

“I think you’re supposed to push the button that says pour.”

You turned towards the voice to find Jisoo smiling at you.

“Good morning, how’d you sleep?”

“A little sore,” she yawned, walking past you towards an unused bedroom. “Coming?”

The quest for coffee was abandoned as you followed her into her room, your groggy mind not immediately understanding the implication of her not sleeping in her own room last night.

“What ever happened with the solo stuff?” you asked, closing the door behind you. “I meant to ask you last night, but we got a bit distracted with…”

“With you taking my virginity?”

“Yeah…” you responded shyly.

“It’s going to happen.”

“That’s amazing!” you cheered, pulling her into a hug before quickly letting go. “Uh, sorry, that wasn’t appropriate.”

Jisoo covered her mouth while letting out an adorable giggle before grabbing onto you again.

“I’m so excited,” she squealed into your ear. “Thank you again.”

“You deserve it,” you rubbed her back warmly with one hand as your other hand stroked her hair. She looked so gorgeous this morning, you thought to yourself as the two of you parted; she absolutely had that morning-after glow.

“Can I ask you something?” Jisoo muttered quietly, staring tenderly into your eyes.

“Of course you can,” you replied as you reached forward, pushing her hair behind her ear to uncover her bright pink cheeks.

“Last night, you and Jennie…” she began hesitantly, suddenly too shy to look directly at you.

“Hey,” you grabbed her hands. “I want it to be clear that you can tell me anything without being embarrassed about it.”

“I…” she stammered, looking up into your eyes. “I don’t even know how to ask.”

“Just say it.”

She bit her lower lip before taking a deep breath.

“Can you be rough with my throat?” she mumbled.

“What…?”

“After you left last night,” she continued. “One by one, they all took her throat. Even the security guards took turns, again and again.”

“Did they make you…”

“No, nothing like that,” Jisoo replied softly, smiling lightly. “But the way I saw Jennie in that room with everyone lusting for her, I want that.”

“Believe me when I say this,” you said tenderly, massaging her hands with your fingers. “Whenever you’re in the room, all eyes are on you.”

“I don’t-” she began before you silenced her with a kiss.

“They are,” you whispered in front of her face. “You’re so beautiful, trust me when I say everyone is watching you.”

“You’re sweet,” Jisoo smiled warmly. “I could almost fall for you.”

“Almost?”

“Yeah, almost,” Jisoo repeated. “You’re Lisa’s.”

“Not this morning,” you laughed. “She just kicked me out for Jennie.”

“Don’t take it personally, those two do that a lot,” Jisoo smiled. “So, what do you say?”

“Alright so, don’t get me wrong,” you began carefully. “Honestly, I can’t imagine anyone with a cock passing up on the chance to… you know. But why?”

“I just feel like I have to…” Jisoo muttered under her breath. “To guarantee it…”

“What do you mean?” you asked while sitting on the edge of the bed, bringing Jisoo with you. “I thought everything was taken care of?”

“You were supposed to fuck me,” Jisoo’s voice trembled. “They assumed you would fuck me in front of all of them, that was the plan all along.”

“I…”

“They said it’ll happen,” she continued, her voice still shaky. “But it wouldn’t be the first false promise, I just have this feeling…”

“I’m so sorry,” you expressed your regret, feeling an overwhelming amount of sympathy for the beautiful girl before you.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Still.”

“That’s why last night I wanted you,” she said as her eyes began to tear up. “At least this way my first time would be on my terms.”

Hearing her story was painful, such a sweet girl did not deserve to go through this. Frustration and resentment towards her company began to really build up inside you.

“Anyway, they made some implications,” Jisoo choked up briefly before recomposing herself. “The person I have to convince likes deep-”

“I got it, you don’t have to say it,” you interjected, leaning back and sighing at the situation you were in. “Are you absolutely sure you want this?”

She nodded, her face basically begging for you to go through with it while still being full of fear.

“Then tell me,” you whispered softly. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

“I want you to put your cock down my throat,” she whispered back, tilting her face 45 degrees and leaning forward.

Without hesitation, matched her movement in the opposite direction, pressing your lips tenderly against hers. You kissed her a couple more times before she leaned back, her eyes locking onto your crotch.

“Not yet,” you said softly, giving her shirt a little tug. “First take this off.”

She complied immediately, lifting her shirt off her head before standing up and dropping her shorts to the floor - no bra, just a pair of black panties. You wrapped your arms around her, grabbing two handfuls of her ass and squeezing.

“You’re absolutely certain, right?” you asked while sitting on the edge of the bed, only for her to immediately nod down at you. “Then get on your knees,” you instructed her, taking off your own shirt as she lowered herself between your legs.

Jisoo began to tug your underwear down, aided by you lifting your butt off the bed slightly, until they were down to your ankles. You kicked the undergarment to the side and took your cock in your hand, stroking it slowly to the sight of topless Jisoo on her knees.

“Take your time,” you instructed her as you let go of your cock.

Taking your advice, she leaned forward and took a hold of your shaft with one hand. She bent her face down and ran her tongue from your balls all the way up your length. Chills ran up your spine. Her tongue was so soft and warm. She licked up and down your cock until all sides had a thin layer of her saliva coating them, before letting go with her hand and slowly inserting your tip into her mouth.

“Try to go as deep as you can,” you whispered as you grabbed her hair, holding it up for her. “Don’t worry about going all the way yet, just do your best.”

With your cock spreading her lips, she nodded before slowly pressing forward. She made it about halfway before pausing for a moment. Then she jerked forward, getting about three quarters of your cock into her mouth before immediately pulling back and coughing.

“I told you not to worry about going all the way,” you said while gently stroking her hair. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” she spat some saliva out of her mouth, landing on her bare thighs. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, it takes practice,” you reassured her before grabbing a handful of her hair again. “Whenever you’re ready.”

She took a deep breath before leaning forward again. This time her mouth was opened wider, and she slowly engulfed your cock. The warmth of her mouth felt amazing, but again she only made it as far as the first time before pulling back out and spitting again.

“It’s not easy,” you tried to encourage her. “You’re going to have to let it go down your throat, try to relax your neck.”

Once again she tried, putting your cock in her mouth, this time pushing even harder before violently pulling back out and coughing.

“I can’t do it,” she coughed. “It’s like there’s a wall.”

“As soon as it goes down your throat for the first time, it’ll become way easier,” you explained. “Do you want to keep trying, or do you want me to push?”

“I think I need you to push,” she answered after thinking about her options for a second.

“Alright, then put your hands on my thighs,” you instructed while standing up off the bed. “If you need me to let go, just tap my thigh.”

Jisoo nodded, placing her hands on your thighs before looking up at you. She almost looked excited behind the nervousness. You put your cock into her mouth again and held it there.

“Show me how you’ll tap.”

She gave your thighs a couple of light slaps.

“Good, just like that,” you said warmly before grabbing the back of her head with both hands.

Slowly, you pushed your cock into her mouth. You went deeper, until you were just past halfway, and then you held yourself there for a second. Her mouth was spread beautifully - ready to engulf your cock entirely.

After taking a deep breath, you pushed the back of Jisoo’s head and your hips at the same time, shoving your cock down her throat. Her eyes shot open, and tears immediately began to spill out the corners. You weren’t thrusting, simply holding your cock all the way down, watching as Jisoo’s nose pressed into your crotch.

She held on for a few seconds before frantically slapping your thighs. You immediately pulled back and let go of her head, and the second your cock left her mouth she began coughing. She slumped over, saliva spilling out of her lips onto her lap as her head was hanging down. Without speaking, you simply watched her for a second, worried that you went too far. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake.

“Jisoo, we can take a break.”

“No!” she shouted before getting embarrassed. “I just mean, I don’t need it.”

You sighed heavily before pulling her up off her knees and kissing her again.

“You’re doing great, it’s not easy the first time, and you managed to take it all.”

“For like two seconds,” she chuckled, wiping her eyes of any remaining tears.

“The first time is the hardest,” you reassured her. “New position?”

“Good idea, maybe it’ll be easier,” she nodded. “I think I still need your help though.”

“Lay on the bed,” you guided her so that she was laying on her back with her head at the edge of the mattress. You pulled her just a bit so that her head was hanging over the edge, unsupported by the bed. “If you need me to stop, tap the bed alright?”

“Okay,” she confirmed, wiggling slightly to get comfortable.

You walked right up in front of her and rubbed your cock against her pretty lips. Slowly, you pressed your tip into her mouth. The new position blocked most of your view of her face, but your gaze was fixated on the muscles in her neck.

Slowly, you pushed forward, inch by inch. You took your time, making sure Jisoo was comfortable - as comfortable as she could be with a cock entering her throat. Deeper and deeper, until you felt yourself at the entrance of her throat again.

Instead of pushing through with force, you slowly eased into her throat. She gagged once, making you stop just before your cock went all the way in, but she didn’t tap out. After giving her just a second to adjust, you pushed forward again until your entire cock was once again down her throat.

This time she didn’t panic. Carefully, you pulled your hips back until you were halfway out before pushing back in. Her whole body shook at times, yet still she endured. You started to move your hips back and forth, carefully watching her, observing the saliva making a mess all over her face.

All your efforts to make this work had distracted you from how amazing it felt - until now. The tightness of Jisoo’s throat around your tip suddenly flooded your senses. In and out you went, slowly but steadily, while words could not explain how amazing her mouth felt around your cock. The new angle made it considerably easy to push your cock down her neck; hopefully it was easier for her as well.

It was secretly the greatest blessing that she wasn’t tapping out. Her body was swaying back and forth with your movements, her tits sliding up and down just slightly. You couldn’t hold back, not with how good Jisoo’s mouth felt, and you found yourself leaning forward to get better leverage.

There was an incredible amount of wetness coating your shaft now - as well as Jisoo’s face. Each time you went in, your balls grazed against her nose, sticking to her skin slightly whenever you pulled back due to the spit that had accumulated all over her face.

Leaning forward, you took her tits into your palms and gently began caressing them. She had her hands balled up in fists, her knuckles white, but she didn’t tap out. You gave her nipples little pinches which seemed to relax her, or perhaps it simply redirected the discomfort away from her tight throat.

She opened her hands, laying them flat on the bed. You couldn’t help but notice a wet spot on her panties, it seemed she at least somewhat enjoyed this. Subtle gagging noises were escaping her mouth, but for the most part the only noise in the room was wetness of skin sliding against skin.

The fact that she was able to take your whole cock with ease already was incredible. Jisoo was incredible. You could feel yourself getting close to your climax as your cock gently poked the back of her mouth over and over again. It was almost time, you felt the tension building up all the way to your thighs, you were probably two or three thrusts away from launching your cum down her neck.

Then her body went into a frenzy as she started tapping the bed. Immediately, you pulled your cock out, not hesitating for a second. You crouched down and supported her head, softly sitting her up as she coughed spit all over her chin and torso.

“I felt like I couldn’t breathe,” Jisoo croaked while you rubbed her back gently. “I panicked.”

“Don’t worry,” you leaned over to grab some tissues off the side table. “Come here.”

She turned around on the bed and let you wipe the mess off her face. After tossing the tissues aside, you took a seat next to her on the bed and hugged her.

“Now do it harder, I know you’re holding back,” she insisted, wiping her eyes with the back of hand. “Please, I can take it.”

“I don’t…”

“He’s not going to be this gentle,” Jisoo pleaded. “This time, face fuck me until you cum.”

“Are you absolutely sure you want this?”

“Yes,” Jisoo answered firmly. “This time, no tapping out, fuck my throat until you cum no matter how much I protest.”

“Jisoo there’s no-”

“Please.”

After a heavy exhale, you grabbed her hand and pulled her over so that she was sitting on the edge of the bed. You lifted one leg onto the bed next to her, and with both hands on the back of her head, you looked down remorsefully into her eyes.

“I’m sorry for this,” you muttered before tightening your grip.

What happened next was the most satisfyingly painful dilemma you have ever experienced. On one hand, watching Jisoo’s body go limp as your hips slammed into her face felt wrong. Yet, the way her throat opened up and was comfortably accepting your cock just felt so right. No matter how hard you thrusted into her face, you made sure to stay aware of her hand, ready to stop as soon as she tapped.

But she never tapped.

Even as you pushed deeper and deeper, her entire head being pushed around like a glorified fleshlight, she never once showed any signs of giving up. For a bit, she had her eyes closed, focused entirely on keeping her jaw lax enough for your cock to ease into it.

For some time, she had her eyes open, unable to look up at you. Despite that, you could see the cogs turning in her mind, fresh thoughts filling the pretty girl each time your balls flopped against her chin. That slapping sound got wetter and wetter as Jisoo’s saliva refused to stay put. It spilled out of her lips through the slight gaps your cock wasn’t plugging.

There was a subtle hint of guilt, one that got worse when you focused on how amazing Jisoo’s throat felt. You ignored it, remembering that this was Jisoo’s request. In a way, you were doing her a favor, that’s what you told yourself as you watched your cock disappear into her mouth.

Her throat had been taking a relentless attack for a few minutes now, and she was still holding on without any signs of giving up. You, on the other hand, were nearing your own breaking point once again. It was impossible to hold on much longer without stopping entirely, but that was just as difficult as trying to hold on.

As your cock went all the way into her mouth, you held her face against your body for a few seconds, just long enough for her to start gagging. As soon as she did, you pulled your cock out entirely, a thick string of Jisoo’s saliva connecting it to her mouth.

She coughed heavily, spitting out the excess spit before looking up at you again and opening her mouth. You took the cue and plunged back in, going all the way to the balls. With a spin of your hand to wrap her hair around your fist, you fucked her throat a dozen or so more times before again holding your cock down her neck.

This time she held on for a bit longer, but again as soon as she started to gag you pulled out. You gave her less time to recover this time before again entering her mouth, making her deepthroat your cock a few times before repeating the sequence.

Each time you pulled out, you gave her less time to catch her breath. At this point, she wouldn’t even spit out, she would just take the short second to take a breath and let the saliva naturally drip out of her mouth and down onto her thighs while she prepared for the next barrage of throat fucking.

At this point you were only thrusting two or three times before holding, you knew any more than that would lead to you exploding in her mouth. After one particularly hefty gag, you decided it was time to test your theory after giving Jisoo an extra few seconds to catch her breath this time - she would need it.

With a firm grip on her hair, you pushed past her lips for what you figured would be the last time. Slowly, you pressed forward until yet again your cock was embedded into her throat. Then you pulled back all the way and started jamming your hips back and forth as hard as you could.

Jisoo started to moan loudly, her hand squeezing your thigh but never tapping out. You could see in her eyes that she was bracing herself for what you both knew was about to come. A few thrusts later, ending with one final crash, you started to release.

You kept your cock as far down her throat as physically possible, staring into her eyes as you throbbed into her mouth. Your cum immediately went down her neck, there was no need for swallowing at this point. Jisoo’s face was turning red, but she still never tapped out. You held your cock there until the very last pulse released, before slowly pulling out.

As soon as your cock left her mouth and you let go of her head, Jisoo hunched over and started coughing. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand before spitting on the floor some more. You turned around to grab a towel for her when you noticed the door was open.

“Wow,” Lisa whispered while Jennie was standing next to her with her mouth wide open in shock.

“It’s not what it looks like,” you quickly explained as Jennie walked past you and sat next to Jisoo, comforting her.

“That was… wow,�� Lisa commented, still looking at you in pure shock.

“Jisoo that was so impressive,” Jennie gushed, wiping Jisoo’s chin for her.

“So,” Lisa began. “Want to explain why you just throat fucked the life out of Jisoo?”

“It was my idea,” Jisoo croaked from the bed.

Lisa turned to her, eyebrows raised, but Jennie was the one who spoke up.

“She has a meeting with him.”

As if that made all the sense in the world, Lisa suddenly understood everything.

“Ah, practice is a good idea, it’s better than going in for the first time without any,” Lisa commented casually before grabbing your hand.

You took one last look at Jisoo hunched over, still leaking saliva from her lips while Jennie patted her back, before letting Lisa pull you out of the room.

“Lisa,” you stopped walking, making Lisa look back over her shoulder curiously at you. “This person Jisoo was talking about… have you…?”

“Yes.”

“Oh…” you sighed heavily.

“It was different for me,” Lisa disclosed, giving your hand a little tug.

“Different how?”

“Look, he’s really into doing… basically what you just did to Jisoo,” Lisa continued. “But I’m his favorite member.”

“So what did he make you do?” you asked, following Lisa into a new bedroom.

“Turns out he also likes being on the receiving end,” Lisa giggled. “I rode his face until he nearly passed out.”

“For what it’s worth, he’s not the only one who’d be into that.”

“Is that so?” Lisa asked coyly, sliding a finger down your chest. “Who else would be?”

“Any other day,” you answered, struggling to match her energy. “Just not right now.”

“Come on now,” Lisa stepped back. “Don’t beat yourself up over what just happened, it’s going to help her in the long run.”

“Yeah it was easier to use that as an excuse when I was horny as hell watching you and Jennie fool around,” you sighed. “Of course I deluded myself as soon as Jisoo suggested it, but that wasn’t right.”

Lisa looked at you understandingly, expression full of sympathy.

“You didn’t do a bad thing.”

“Didn’t I?” you replied, making Lisa jump slightly as your voice was a bit louder than you intended. “Sorry, it’s just… I didn’t know I had it in me to do that to her.”

“You didn’t hurt her,” Lisa tried reassuring you. “She may be the least experienced out of us, but she’s still the strongest member.”

“I hope you’re right,” you sighed. “I can’t get her look out of my mind.”

“How about you think about something else for a second,” Lisa suggested. “Like perhaps this boyfriend girlfriend thing actually happening?”

“Do you mean it?”

“This morning when you kissed Jennie, I was joking about being jealous,” Lisa said genuinely. “But part of me kinda thought hey, what if our thing was real?”

“Even though you just walked in on me and Jisoo…?”

“That wouldn’t stop.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, confused by her intentions.

“These three are my closest friends in the world,” Lisa clarified. “If we began dating, you would have to be comfortable entertaining the idea that they’ll be involved sometimes.”

“Involved?”

“You know what I’m hinting at,” Lisa laughed as she jumped onto her bed. “As long as nothing happens behind my back.”

“Alright Lisa, I promise I’m not just saying this because of what you just said, but I’m down for this if you are.”

“Then it’s official, baby boy is now my boyfriend.”

---

A/N:

Life. Has. Been. So. Busy! I seriously wish I had more time to write! It probably doesn't help that I'm currently working like like... 5(?) different fics at the same time. Little teaser, Private Manager is being worked on again, Photographer is still being worked on, KAMPFyre is still being worked on, and some others that I'm going to keep secret.

I was originally going to continue making these chapters 10k words long, but then I hit a really nice breaking point and it happend to be around 5k words. It got me thinking, if I'm going to keep writing more, why not just keep my general aim of 5k words?

So yeah, that's why this chapter might feel a bit shorter, but on the bright side I can reveal that I'm about 2k words deep into Chapter 4. Yup, turns out I enjoy writing this series, and apparently a lot of my readers like it as well, so I guess there's more coming! Plot stuff is already done for the next chapter (or two).

Anyway, thanks again everyone for being patient! Let me know if you guys are still enjoying this series (although I'll continue it at least for one or two more chapters either way because I personally enjoy writing it and have ideas still). By all means feel free to leave comments/messages/asks/whatever, I try to read all of them!

[pyrodolls]

yandere mk1 men x compliant! reader

warnings: kidnapping, mentions of violence and murder, stockholm syndrome, all men are yandere and ooc, implied afab reader in johnny's, implied nsfw in bi-han's, mentions of an anxiety attack in zeffeero's, tomas is a masochist, gender neutral reader, reader doesn't care that they were kidnapped

summary: the mk1 men (johnny cage, bi han, kuai liang, zeffeero, tomas vrbada) are yandere, and they just kidnapped you. but you seem to not care...

a/n: sorry again for my late updates😭 anyways i was reading a yandere fic and i was like 'i would just give up and accept my fate if a yandere kidnapped me.' so here's some hcs based on that lil thought LMAOO

↠↠↠↠↠↠↠↠↠

johnny cage would be ECSTATIC when he notices how compliant you are. thank god he didn't have to force you to accept your new life, that would've been ugly. now, he can live out his fantasy of a perfect life with you! and don't worry about your needs such as food and water, he's got the money to take care of that. besides, now you're with THE johnny cage! other people would sell their soul to be in your spot. you're grateful for your new life, right? you have to now, because johnny is so excited to start a family with you very soon, whether you like it or not.

bi-han wouldn't be surprised that you submitted to him so easily. it was a wise choice to be obedient. if you didn't, bi-han would have to punish you. and we wouldn't want that, would we? obviously, bi-han's always had the power and resources to make sure you never escape in the first place, but since you're just so calm and compliant, he doesn't have to stress about that anymore. but that doesn't mean he's entirely trusting of you yet. he would still keep his guard up for the first few months of your capture, just in case you were deceiving him with your willingness. but overall, bi-han is glad that you are so compliant. he brings you outside every now and then as a reward for your obedience. who knows, maybe if you keep up your good behavior, he'll reward you even more.

kuai liang was not excited to take you in. he knew you'd probably resist him, but it's for the best! please don't kick and scream at him, he's doing this because he loves you. he's keeping you safe, there's a lot of bad people out there that could hurt you and he can protect you from them. as soon as you noticed you were in an unknown place, he braced for an argument of some sorts, until you casually addressed him and asked where you were. kuai liang explained your situation and told you that he was doing it because he loves you so much, and you'll understand someday. surprisingly, you simply nodded and shrugged, accepting your situation and deciding not to defy scorpion himself. he was relieved that you didn't have any qualms with your new life, especially after he put so much effort into mending your new living space to your liking. he worked very hard to provide you with enough of your necessities to make you never want to leave.

zeffeero is confused at how cooperative you are. he had an entire anxiety attack before he committed the act, berating himself for doing such an atrocious thing. he would've hated for you to despise him, even though he would've understood why. fortunately, his anxieties were put to rest as soon as he saw how casually you handled the situation. even though it left him wondering if you were as mentally sane as he thought you were. but that doesn't matter, because now zeffeero doesn't have to hold back on his affections. he took your compliance as a sign that you are okay with his twisted way of loving you. now, your life within those walls is a lot more suffocating than you thought it would be.

tomas vrbada had mixed feelings about the situation. if you woke up in an unknown place, surely you'd be pissed at him. so you would probably cuss him out, or even fight him physically. tomas doesn't want to hurt you, but at the same time, he would relish in your hatred for him. for some reason, tomas would get a strange high out of your assertion and he'd feel very flustered if you were ever aggressive towards him. you could yell at him for the smallest thing, and he'd just stare at you with adoration as if he was in a trance. even though he would love for you to yell and scream at him, he would ultimately prefer for you to be happy with him and your new life. tomas desperately wants to have a normal-ish relationship with you, so it would be best if you were compliant with him. thankfully, you ended up quite cooperative with tomas, and easily adjusted to your new life. it made him so happy that you accepted him, that he spoiled you with everything you could ever want. tomas is at your beck and call, and he will do anything to make you happy. except free you.

[robiinurheart33]

(Flashes my mind beams) Soap having really bad nightmares whenever his mental health is low.

It’d be really bad most of the time, waking up covered in sweat, panting or just outright screaming. The dreams would have felt so real, so lifelike that it would shake johnny down to his core, needing time to fully process the dream and then calm down. It would board on topics such as his loved ones, phobias, worst case scenarios the whole nine yards. Often times when the nightmare cycle starts to happen, Johnny wouldn’t get much sleep at all and when he does he’s thrashing and shaking the entire time.

This would happen since young, but being raised in a catholic household as the middle child did not help at all. Most of the time when Johnny would try and confide in his parents, he would be dismissed with a “God is good.” Or “No evil against you shall prosper.” Which, I mean yeah but how does that help him in any way?! He just wants to be comforted. He had dreams where his sisters died, and he would go straight to them to hug them as tightly as possible, no matter how much they protested. Nothing seemed to work to bring the nightmares down unless Johnny’s mental health actually got better.

It only got worse in the army. The screaming, gunfire and mental strain Soap had to go through was excruciating. He woke up panting and covered in cold sweat, hoping he wasn’t screaming in his sleep and waking others up. Once, early on when 141 was just created, Ghost walked into the shared pantry only to find a sweat-faced, pale, bloodshot eyed soap munching on cereal, staring off into space. He made his tea and walked out of there as fast as he could.

As they got closer together, Ghost eventually asked Soap about that one instance. Soap wasn’t even aware Ghost was in the kitchen in the first place. He tried to explain, as casual as he could, that he gets horrific realistic nightmares when his mental health goes to shit. Soap isn’t sure if he actually manages to play it off seeing as he cant exactly gauge Ghost’s reaction, but that was that.

He eventually forgot about it until about 2 years later, when they both start to float on the same wavelength and sleep in the same bed (wink wink) that it happens for the first time. The first nightmare that he experiences around Ghost is extreme. He dreams of metal and blood, screaming and frustration. Johnny wakes up screaming, a hand over his mouth and back covered in sweat. Ghost is up in a millisecond, gun drawn and up from the bed. They’re both equally disoriented, confused as to what was happening. Ghost looks over to Soap where he’s panting, eyes bloodshot and eyebags evident. He’s seen this somewhere before.

Gun immediately tossed to the side, Ghost rushes to Soap’s side, not sure what to do but wanting to help. He’s still processing what just happened, unable to speak and eyes just trained on his lap. Ghost flickers open the lamp, sitting right beside Johnny, not speaking but just being there, his presence a solid wall he can lean on. After what feels like 4 hours (it was 10 minutes), Johnny finally looks at Simon, eyes full of tears and body trembling. He cant take it anymore. Simon rushes to place their bodies close together, Johnny’s ear against his chest as he murmurs affirmations.

“You’re here with me. I got you. You’re safe.”

They didn’t go back to sleep after that, getting up at the peak hour of 4am to go for an early early morning jog. This wouldn’t be the solution to the nightmares all the time, however. Sometimes it would just be Johnny listening to Simon’s heartbeat, a cup of warm coffee, a comfort show, spacing out, drawing, or a morning run. It just depended on his mood after he woke up. But one constant was that Simon was always right beside him, accompanying him in whatever he did. It didn’t matter if Johnny protested, he would always wake up along with him and stay right by his side. As long as Johnny had Simon, he wouldn’t have to be alone to face on his demons ever again. He made sure of that.

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Chapter 2 - An affair to remember

A/N: Chapter 2, here we are! Leave a comment, heart or reblog if you enjoyed reading this. And no, I couldn’t just settle on one photo.

Pairing: Tony Stark x F! Reader

Warning: 18+ loss of virginity, age gap, smut.

Word count: 4025

An affair to remember

After trying around eleven outfits and disliking each of them for some reason or other, you settled on a simple floral button down blouse with a pair of jeans. You weren’t exactly sure if he’d asked you out on a date or the drink was just a friendly offer.

Of course it’s a date, you kissed him, Y/N, you thought to yourself. The mirror of your car revealed a visibly nervous reflection of you, fixing your hair multiple times, redoing your lipstick before you shook yourself mentally and drove off. Stark tower was a twenty minute drive from your apartment, and since it was a Sunday, traffic was in your favour thankfully.

By the time the tall, shiny building came into view, you had worked yourself up into taking this as a business meeting. You would be professional with the man and politely decline drinks if he’d offered. It would be inappropriate. You were sure he felt the same way.

Apparently your arrival was expected and welcomed in a pleasantly surprising way. A chubby, friendly looking man gave you a smile as you entered the foyer, introducing himself as Happy Hogan. He escorted you up to Mr. Stark’s floor or rather floors which was the penthouse of the ninety-three storeyed building.

The space was swanky, stylish and impeccably designed. Floor to ceiling windows that offered the most stunning views of the city, sleek and modern furniture that only screamed rich. You smoothed down your top and cleared your throat as you approached the outdoor seating area where Tony sat, wearing a dark coloured shirt and some jeans. Casual but still quite well put together, you thought.

“Ah! Miss Y/L/N, you made it. Thanks, Happy.”

As your hands touched, the spark was back, one that made your insides buzz with excitement as you smiled at each other, letting your handshake extend for longer than necessary. It was only when Happy cleared his throat to announce his exit that you broke contact.

As he left, you considered bringing up the elephant in the room that loomed large, causing you to shuffle your weight from one foot to the other. Maybe if you addressed it right away, you could move on and be done with it? Not let the meeting be awkward for the rest of the evening.

Meanwhile, Tony was trying his best to focus on anything but your irresistible lips. He was drawn to them, it was quite unexplainable but he wanted nothing more than to have your lips on his again.

“So…” you started, twirling a lock of hair nervously between your fingers as you looked around, aware of his gaze following.

“So.”

“I think we should talk about what happened. Look, it was a mistake, I don’t know what came over me, I shouldn’t have kissed you like that.”

Tony blinked his disappointment away and nodded in agreement. It was probably for the best.

“Yeah, probably. You’re right. It—it was inappropriate.”

“Yes! I mean, you’re friends with my Dad and also way out of my league.”

Your admission made him smirk, watching your cheeks flush with realization of what you had said.

“Out of your league huh? What is your league? Overzealous frat boys?” he teased.

“Haha. You’re funny.” You rolled your eyes but hoped he’d drop the subject, thankfully he did, brushing it off as no harm done, much to your relief.

You unconsciously reached for your camera, thinking it’d be better if you steered the subject to the big photoshoot.

“You brought your camera, why?” Tony murmured, pointing to the device sticking out from your bag.

“I just thought I’d do a few test shots of the locations you’d be photographed in. Check the lighting and things. It will be a day shoot, right?”

Tony frowned, realizing he was yet to work out all of that or he probably had been sent the schedule but it slipped his mind. He also thought it’d be a good idea to inform Natalie about the change in photographer, since the magazine had been adamant on bringing their own person for the job.

“That’s a good question, I have no idea. But don’t worry, I’ll have my secretary send you the details.”

Humming in agreement, you asked if he could show you around the space, get an idea about what the vibe of the interview was going to be like. He happily agreed and began a tour of the place, explaining what housed on each floor, giving you a background about his business which you kinda already knew - one Google search was all it took to give the necessary details and some unnecessary ones as well. Tony had a notorious reputation of being a playboy, he certainly lived a very colourful life and had made no qualms about it.

Still, his eyes reflected the passion he had for technology as he spoke, the pride he took in pointing out all of the achievements Stark Industries had over the years.

Primarily a weapons manufacturer, he decided on taking a different route for his company after a particularly life-changing incident in Afghanistan. The man was abducted by a terrorist group called Ten Rings and kept in a cave for three months.

While how he escaped remained a mystery to the world, his return had been miraculous. He led you back to his grand living room, gesturing you to take a seat.

“You said an explosive blew up not far from you and yet you came out of that cave scratch free? How?” you asked about his incredulous story.

“Not just any explosive, it was one of my own creations. And I never said it was scratch free.”

He seemed to ponder for a while, looking around as if to check if anyone was spying on you two before he reached for the buttons of his shirt, undoing them to reveal what looked like a circular battery-like device emitting a faint blue light. It seemed as if it was jammed in his chest, the peripheral skin scarred.

“What is that?”

He chuckled as your eyes went wide, glancing down at the device that was keeping him alive.

“It’s an electromagnet that essentially keeps the shrapnel from reaching my heart. It’s called an arc reactor, there is another one of these, a much bigger one that powers this building.” he explained, buttoning his shirt back up and letting you know how he managed to power it with the help of a man named Ho Yinsen in the caves.

If it weren’t for that little device, and the brave sacrifice of Yinsen, the world would’ve lost Tony Stark and you would’ve never met this incredible man.

“And here I assumed you sold your soul to the devil.”

Your words made him laugh, feeling a little flutter in that battery-operated heart. He wasn’t sure what made him reveal the arc reactor to you, he hadn’t let anyone see it, except for Rhodey since he found him in the desert. Something about you reassured him that you were trustworthy. You were like a breath of fresh air.

After returning, Tony Stark had dedicated much of his business to RnD in the field of science and technology. You listened with keen interest, getting to know the man better with each passing moment, you couldn’t help but admire him for all the success he’d achieved.

“Gosh. Where are my manners? I haven’t offered you anything to drink, Miss Y/L/N.” Tony exclaimed, right as one of his bots whirred in with a silver tray that had a bottle of champagne on ice with two glasses.

“Robots bringing in champagne? You planned this, didn’t you?” you chuckled, finding it rather hard to refuse it. I mean, it wouldn’t really hurt having one glass. Right?

“I’m just trying to make a good first impression.” he shrugged, popping the bottle open expertly before filling the two glasses.

“Why? You’re not an overzealous frat boy.” you teased, taking a sip of the champagne while holding his gaze.”

“Oh honey, I’m much better.”

There it was again.

The tingle of excitement you felt deep within your belly every time you had a banter. Even though you wouldn’t admit to yourself, you were attracted to the man. He was just so sure of who he was, he carried himself with a certain confidence that was quite sexy.

For the next couple of hours, you two spoke about anything and everything, making you realize how easy he was to talk to despite the age difference. You spoke about your relationship with your parents, your eyes lit up each time you mentioned how your father had been your biggest cheerleader while Tony listened with a soft smile on his face. His phone kept buzzing every now and then and he kept dismissing it. When it rang for the fourth time, you thought it was time for you to head back since you’d stayed for longer than you had intended to.

“You should get that, it’s probably important. I’ll get going.”

Tony stood up with you, not really ready to let you go just yet, though the incessant buzzing of his Stark pad was hard to ignore.

“Are you sure I can’t persuade you for another glass? Perhaps some wine? Happy could drive you home later..”

The offer was tempting, and you weren’t ready to say goodbye either but you had to. You would see him next week anyways.

“Thank you, but I think I should head back, it’s late. What you’ve done with Stark Industries is truly remarkable. Thank you for sharing your story with me. You’re an incredible man, Tony. I don’t think you give yourself enough credit for it.” You smiled, meaning every word you’d said.

He had been complimented many times before but something about your words made him believe it. He felt his heart dance a little with joy.

“See you on Wednesday then?”

“Uh yeah. See you.”

Deciding on a friendly hug, you wrapped your arms around him, breathing in his scent, something so oddly comforting about it. Smiling to yourself when you felt Tony’s breath against your hair, you pulled back only to find him staring at your lips. You kissed him on the cheek quickly, and stepped back, not trusting yourself to not make the same impulsive decision no matter how much you wanted to do it.

“Bye, Tony.”

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

He watched you until the elevator doors closed, leaving you to let out a sigh and lean against the cold metal. The whole way down, you contemplated what it would be like to kiss Tony, recalling the moment your lips had touched the other night. It only lasted a second but it hadn’t left your mind ever since.

You wanted to do it again.

You wanted more. Him. In every way possible. It was like a need you felt that drew you to him, like a moth to a flame. You knew it would be dangerous and yet it was impossible to resist the temptation.

It was probably why you decided to go with your instincts and press the button that led you back to Tony Stark.

He had his back to you when you reached his floor again, you saw the same flame of desire dancing in his eyes that danced in yours as he turned to find you standing there. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation as you took long strides and he met you halfway, lips colliding in an instant.

You felt your breath knocked out of your chest as you kissed Tony Stark, a rush of excitement surging through your body as his arms went around you to pull you flush against his chest, keeping you there. You gasped at the intensity and Tony used the opportunity to slide his tongue in your mouth, deepening the kiss.

A lingering taste of champagne mixed with a hint of coffee is what you tasted as you gave in and your hands found their way around his neck, carding through the hair at the nape of his neck.

Not realizing he had walked you back until you were met with the cool wall behind, you felt Tony smile against your lips before they trailed lower, along your jaw, down to your neck. Letting out a soft moan, you tugged on his hair silently signaling him to not stop. Desire flooded through you and gathered between your legs as he continued nipping at your skin, reveling in the little sounds you made. His hands slid up your body to brush against your breasts, his thumb deliberating until your nipples stood erect against his touch.

You felt goose pimples across your body where he touched you as his hands slipped inside your blouse, wanting to feel more of your skin. Wasting no time, Tony unbuttoned it hastily and threw it to the side, bringing his lips over your collarbone, littering small kisses along it.

Letting out a sigh, you felt his hands toy with the hem of your jeans as his mouth closed over your bra-covered nipple. You weren’t alien to the feeling but your eyes fluttered open when Tony unzipped your jeans and let it slide down your legs.

“Bedroom?” he asked huskily after you’d stepped out of them, leaving you in a matching pair of lingerie. You managed a nod before following him inside his bedroom, a heady cocktail of desire and lust swimming in your mind as the man gently laid you against the soft mattress.

“So gorgeous, Y/N.”

He crawled over you with purpose, his gaze darkening as he took in your form before his lips crashed against yours once more. The kiss had more urgency this time, while he prodded your legs open to allow you to feel his growing erection.

You let out another gasp feeling his hardness brush against your core, a rush of ardor followed by sudden insecurity made its presence known as you sat up on your elbow, breaking the kiss.

“Tony, I’ve never um–I mean I’m a–” you fumbled with the choice of words, heat creeping up to your cheeks as you tried to convey you had never done this before. Tony rested his arms on either side, still breathing heavily as he took your words in, his own heartbeat pounding against his ears while blood had rushed southward.

“Do you want to stop? We can if you’re uncomfortable.”

You shook your head, not wanting to back out this but you had apprehensions which he could sense. Gently caressing your bare legs, he rested his forehead against yours.

“Tell me what you want.”

You answered by pulling him in for another hungry kiss and wrapping your legs around him to let him know the answer.

“Words, sweetheart.” he murmured, rolling his hips towards your center once again.

“I want you, Tony. I want this.” you managed, unbuttoning his shirt quickly, surprised at your assertion. In the darkness of the room, the blue glow emitted from his arc reactor acted like a source of light, rendering his features luminescent.

With a couple of hasty kisses against your lips, he made you lie back before trailing his path of open-mouthed kisses down your neck, discarding your bra to expose you some more. Cupping one in a hand, tweaking the nipple between his fingers, Tony closed his mouth around the other one, coaxing out a needy whine.

Treating both of them equally, he allowed his hand to travel lower to cup your sex over your panties, smirking as he found them already damp. You felt your breathing turn shallower as his fingers traced along your clothed slit, brushing against your bundle of nerves every so often.

“I want to taste you, sweetheart. Want to know if you taste just as sweet down there as you do here.” Tony’s words turned your insides to jelly, his lips sucking on your tongue as he slowly peeled the last remaining cloth from your body.

Your heart hammered inside your ribcage as he kissed his way down your body, settling between your legs, holding them apart as you instinctively went to close them.

“Lie back, close your eyes.”

You did as you were told, wetting your bottom lip with your tongue as you felt his breath down there, the air making your glistening folds shine eagerly. He first laid small kisses along your inner thigh before his tongue peeked out to tease you open. You let out a cry when his tongue licked a strip up your entrance, the action wildly exciting and new for nobody had gone down on you before. You felt him draw small circles around your clitoris, sending waves of desire down your spine as you squirmed for more.

“Oh my God!” you panted, anchoring your hands in his hair while he continued.

“Does it feel good, sweetheart?” he did everything in his might to not devour you the way he wanted to, knowing you’d probably feel overwhelmed if he did. In all honesty, your scent drove him mad and your taste was irresistible, he couldn’t get enough.

“Yes! Feels so good, Tony!”

Your words encouraged him to continue the assault, every lick and nudge drawing the sweetest of sounds from you. Your wetness gathered on his finger as he traced a line along it, pushing it inside your heat, grunting as he felt your walls immediately clamp around it.

“Relax, Y/N.” Tony repeated, slowly stroking you with his finger, getting you ready for his cock that strained against his pants. Your slickness helped when he added another finger, drawing out yet another moan as you felt an increase in pressure down there.

His thumb brushed against your clit while he massaged your walls open for him, making you lose all sense of coherence as you felt something building inside of you. The familiar tightness low in your belly when you pleasured yourself when alone, only this time, it felt like it had increased by tenfold. Tony held you down as your hips rose up from the bed in their own accord, matching his ministrations. As your moans got louder, you sensed you were close, tugging on his hair once more, you felt your walls tighten around his fingers.

“Let go, Y/N. Come for me.”

And you did. It felt like a tight-wound rope snapped, giving way for an intense wave of pleasure that shook your body. It felt exhilarating at the same time unreal, like you were floating away on a cloud of bliss. When you came down from your high, Tony had discarded his pants and was slanting his lips over yours, letting you taste some of your essence.

Feeling bolder now, you reached between your bodies to stroke his hard cock over his boxers, hearing his breathing hitch.

“Remove them.” He ordered, aiding you when pushed them down his legs to let his cock spring free.

You felt your walls clamp around nothing at the sight of him, he was big, making you wonder if it would hurt when you finally had him.

Reaching over to the nightstand, you watched Tony tear open a foil of condom and roll it over his length. Settling between your legs once more, he kissed you again, this time with a languid urgency.

You tensed up as his erection poked against your core, sensing it Tony broke the kiss to look into your eyes for signs of apprehension.

“We can still stop if you want to, Y/N. Just say the word.”

Appreciative of how considerate he was being, you knew you were ready. You wanted him, as much as he wanted you. Wrapping your fingers around his length delicately, you stroked him a few times, watching his mouth fall open.

“I want you to fuck me, Tony.”

You whispered, lying back against the pillows and allowing him to take control. He lined up against your entrance, gathering your arousal as he went before slipping just the head of cock inside.

“This will hurt a little. Breathe through it for me?”

Nodding, you felt him push in further, letting out a grunt at your tightness. He was right, the girth of him sliding inside your channel felt odd but electrifying. Tony felt his cock push past the barrier as he entered you, giving you time to get used to the feeling.

You let out a cry as he bottomed out, the feeling of fullness overwhelmed your senses as the pain stung.

Retracting only a little at first, Tony drove his hips back into you, repeating the action a few more times as you felt pain receding and giving way to a new kind of pleasure.

“More.” You begged, digging your fingers into his back as he complied.

Your tight heat felt so amazing around his cock, Tony felt himself getting lost in the feeling. Steadily he set a pace, pushing you against the mattress as his hips speared into you, drawing sinful moans.

The feeling of being wound up again took over, Tony smirked as you wrapped both your legs around his hips tighter, the new angle making his cock reach deeper inside your pussy.

“You’re so tight, Y/N. You’re close again, aren’t you?” He breathed, increasing the force of his thrusts to make his pubic bone brush against your clit.

“Yes! I’m so close. Please, Tony.” You whimpered, moving your hips to match up as sounds of your combined pleasure filled the room.

Reaching between your bodies, he teased your clit while driving in and out of your sopping heat, aiding your second orgasm. You felt yourself clamp around his cock before the same feeling of euphoria took over, making your walls spasm out of control.

Vision blurred and body convulsed under the intense waves of pleasure coursing through your veins as you rode out your high. Tony grunted against your ear as your spasming walls fueled his climax, causing his balls to tighten before he emptied himself in the condom, holding you close. Gingerly, he pulled out of you, making you wince at the sudden emptiness you felt.

“You okay?”

“More than okay.” you grinned lazily, accepting the soft kiss he offered.

As tired as you were, you didn’t protest when he nudged you to get up, leading you to the shower for a quick clean up, the soreness between your legs evident.

You exchanged several kisses in the shower, the hot water working wonders on relaxing your muscles, making it evident you were in need of a nap soon.

Once fully dressed, Tony resisted the urge to make you stay again and walked you out while your car stood, waiting. He could sense you were preoccupied with something since you hadn’t said much.

“Tony, about the photoshoot..”

“Oh no, that’s no longer required. I just wanted to sleep with you.” He shrugged, making your stomach drop for a second before he chuckled, enjoying his joke way more than you did.

“Come on, Y/N. I asked you because you’re the person for the job. This doesn’t change anything.” He smiled, wrapping his arms around your waist to give you a quick kiss.

That definitely quietened your insecurities, but it didn’t ease the thought that you had lost your virginity to this gorgeous man who was not only older, but very good friends with your parents. If they ever found out…

On your way back, you also thought about how you’d break the news to Izzy, there was not a thing you kept from her. And if you didn’t, you were positive she’d find out somehow, she was quite shrewd about these things.

As uncertain as you were about it all, you couldn’t shake off the fact that you had slept with Tony Stark.

And it was fantastic.

Changing into comfortable clothes, you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling with a smile that refused to leave your face before deciding on pulling out your phone.

Cocky billionaires are still not my type, you know…

You texted Tony once you reached home, a big grin on your face, waiting for his response as the three dots appeared almost instantly on your screen.

Oh I know. Maybe I’ll change your mind. Actually I’m pretty sure of it.

Thoughts?

[freckliephil]

How do we know Dan stopped being loud when his mental health was bad?

i just mean like he dimmed his sparkle yknow. Like you can see it in his eyes. I switched from casual viewer to tumblr phannie back in 2015, and we talked about 2012-2014 like someone had died bc dan just seemed so checked out and miserable- not ALL the time, like he still was himself in a lot of ways and like, he put effort into maintaining a persona that kept a lot of his struggling hidden from us, but there are so many old videos and liveshow clips where you can just see how tired he is. and like idk, he just wasn’t the same goofy giggly kid he was in the beginning when youtube was just his hobby and something he did with phil for fun. And like idk it’s something you really can see if you go back and watch his videos from that era, he was so scared and he wasn’t in his body and he didn’t laugh as loud and he didn’t look at phil if he could manage it. And now he just does whatever he wants and he yaps about how much we mean to him and he spends half of every video trying to maintain direct eye contact with phil as if we’re not even here and he flings his limbs around and laughs with his whole body and screams about nothing and puts phil in his clothes and acts like he’s going to pass away about how hot he looks and idk where i was even going with this but idk. We know because we saw it happen and we can feel how different things are now and its truly so beautiful i love you dani snot

[cyberneticfallout]

Chapter One: Filly

Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7 - Ch 8 - Ch 9 - Ch 10 - More Coming Soon

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Reader Summary: You, a seasoned bounty hunter, team up with a gruff ghoul to capture a high-value target. Tags: Slow burn (and I mean SLOWWW), angst, eventual smut, language, canon-typical violence, more tags will be added Posted on AO3: Smoothie and The Ghoul Word Count: 1.2k

Bounty hunting is no walk in the park, but the rewards make it worthwhile. Your body aches as you trudge through the settlement known as Filly. Pushy vendors eagerly try to sell you their wares, with one particularly persistent one urging you to spend your hard-earned caps on dog meat. Politely declining their offers, you navigate your way through the bustling street towards the more reputable shops and services.

Having visited Filly a few times before, you recognize familiar faces among the locals. You exchange a silent greeting with the local repair girl and spot Ma June preparing to open her shop for the day, making a mental note to stop by later. As you approach a semi-functional Nuka Cola machine, you catch sight of a man seated in a chair. He's dressed like an outlaw from the Wild West, giving off an air of danger. His gaze locks with yours as you pass by.

A ghoul.

You've had mostly positive experiences with ghouls in the wasteland, but this one seems different. There's something about him that sets off alarm bells in your head. Feeling bold, you approach him after grabbing an unbearably warm Nuka Cola.

"Hey," you stand in front of him and take a sip. "I don't personally have a problem with ghouls, but the folk around here aren't too fond of them."

Smirking, he looks up at you, his sunken eyes and lack of nose more pronounced in the sunlight. Most people find ghouls unsettling, but you've grown accustomed to their appearance after years of interacting with them.

"That may be true," he drawls. "but I ain't here to make friends."

You offer him a sip of your drink, he stares at you in confusion. Taking it as a rejection, you finish the rest and toss the bottle aside.

"You look like you're either playing cowboy or you're a bounty hunter," you remark.

"What's your guess?" he snarls.

Leaning towards him, you place your hands on the arms of his chair. "I'm guessing you're here looking for a specific doctor."

"You're pretty bold for getting so close to a ghoul, smoothskin."

"And you're pretty bold for assuming I've never been closer." A small smile creeps onto your face as he looks at you curiously.

"I'm sure our paths will cross again. Until then..." Stepping back, you give him a casual salute and walk away.

The presence of the ghoul gives you the feeling that shit is about to go down so you decide to hang around on the outskirts of Filly. Leaning against a tree just outside the bustling street of vendors, you can hear the sound of raised voices and the unmistakable echoes of gunfire coming from the center of town.

"Called it," you mutter under your breath. There's no need to dive headfirst into the chaos when you can simply wait it out and observe the aftermath. Given the hefty reward on the line for this particular doctor, it's unlikely that he'll be an easy target. If he's anything like the other high-value bounties you've pursued in the past, he'll find a way to slip away, and you'll have to track him down.

Inhaling deeply, you take a moment to assess your surroundings, ensuring that your rifle and pistol are in proper working order. As you inspect your weapons, the air is suddenly filled with distorted screams, "No, no, no!" Looking up, you witness a spectacle that catches you off guard. A suit of Power Armor is soaring uncontrollably through the sky above you. Could it be the Brotherhood of Steel? This bounty just keeps getting crazier.

The Power Armor veers off in the opposite direction, leaving you to wonder what in the wasteland is going on. With the chaotic gunfight seemingly subsiding, you make your way back towards the town center. It appears that the flying garbage can and ghoul have caused quite the commotion, scattering the combatants and bringing an end to the firefight.

As you draw closer to the scene, the absurdity of the situation becomes even more apparent. Bodies, torn apart and scattered haphazardly, litter the ground. The locals, seizing the opportunity, have already begun looting them. You catch sight of the ghoul making his way towards a path that leads out of town. Without a moment's hesitation, you decide to follow him.

Quickening your pace, you navigate through the debris and bodies, doing your best to avoid the looters who pay you no mind. The ghoul moves quickly with a dog by his side, his sunken eyes focused on his route to the wastes.

As you approach the outskirts of town, the ghoul glances back, acknowledging your pursuit. Letting out an annoyed sigh, he comes to a halt and turns to face you.

"I ain't accepting companions," he declares, a note of irritation in his voice.

"That's too bad," you reply with a smirk, coming to a stop in front of him. Your attention is drawn to the dog standing beside him, looking up at you with a wagging tail. A warm feeling washes over you - you've always had a soft spot for dogs.

Kneeling down, you scratch behind the dog's ears and ask, "What's her name?"

"I don't fuckin' know," the ghoul snaps back.

You raise an eyebrow, a mixture of amusement and confusion on your face. "Did you hit your head back there? How do you not know your dog's name?"

The ghoul rolls his eyes slightly, clearly exasperated. "She ain't my dog. She was with the doctor. Along with some vault dweller."

A surge of curiosity courses through you at the mention of the doctor and the vault dweller. This situation just keeps getting more intriguing. You stand up, still keeping an eye on the ghoul.

“A vault dweller?”

He begins to draw his gun and points it at you, “Give me a reason not to shoot your ass. You’re startin’ to annoy me.”

“Calm down, beef jerky.” Taking a step back, you maintain a calm demeanor. “I think we can help each other out.”

The ghoul's grip on his gun tightens, but he hesitates, seemingly intrigued by your proposition. "I don't need help.”

“Oh but yes, you do.” You pull out a small vial filled with amber liquid, capturing his attention. “This dog will do a great job tracking its owner but I’ll do an even better job of making sure you don’t go feral. No offense but you seem pretty old - even for a ghoul.”

The ghoul's grip on his gun loosens, and he seems to consider your words. After a moment, he reluctantly lowers his weapon. "Fine," he grumbles. "But don't think I owe you anything."

You nod with a small smile, "Fair enough."

[chris-prank]

stumbled across ur blog and love ur writing sm!! i have such a thing for pathetic yanderes…. ty for ur service 🙏🙏🙏

wouldn’t it be funny if hero reader and dr. seraph met at some random place outside of hero’s “working hours”?? like what if they both just happen to be waiting in the hour line DMV line and hero reader is in their casual clothes (sweats or something) and notices first and is like shitshitshitshitshitshit LOLLLLL

It's an honor for me to serve the fans of pathetic yanderes 🫡

I realize that I didn’t specify it in the first part of Dr. Seraph story, but he actually never got thrown in jail! Also, in my head, this world has cartoon superhero logic, so no one can recognize Dr. Seraph when he is not in his crazy scientist attire. So in this situation I imagine Vincent being the one recognizing the hero, either it’s because he had stalked them before or their identity is widely known. Despite that, your idea has so much potential for funny and awkward moments, I love it!

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

He had lost count on how long he had been waiting. 40 minutes? One hour? He didn’t really care anymore. Compared to his criminal life, waiting in line at the DMV was a pleasant breeze. Thinking of the breeze, he had luckily brought his white cardigan, which now protected him from the morning cold.

His fingers mindlessly ran over the golden feathers embroidered on the sleeves as he stared at some rocks on the ground, lost in thought.

“Excuse me?”

A voice called out to him. Pulled from his reverie, Vincent turned his head while answering.

“Y-yes?”

That’s when he was met with you. The love of his life hero who has been fighting him and his boss for years. There you were, in your civilian clothes, waiting in the same line as him!

OH SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT. WHAT ARE THEY DOING HERE? DID THEY RECOGNIZE ME? AAAAAAAAAAH!

Many more obscenities were silently screamed in his mind as he stared at you, his face quickly turning red as a tomato. He was so absorbed by his internal panic that he didn’t even register what you had told him. You were surely warning him to not make any sudden moves and to put his hands up.

“I’m s-so sorry, b-but I didn’t quite catch what you said…”

“I just wanted to tell you that I really like your cardigan, the embroidery on the sleeves are so cute.” Your eyes darted away from him and he swore your face got a little flushed as you repeated yourself.

Was he hallucinating? Did the years of working with toxic chemicals finally affected his brain? He stood there, his mouth agape. If you hadn't noticed how red the man was before, you surely did notice now.

“I love your sweatpants!” He blurted out.

There was an awkward silence for a few milliseconds, as Vincent realized the words that had flown out of his mouth, “N-Not em everyone can pull them off…”

“Really?” You chuckle gently, “I’m glad you think so… Actually when I saw your cute outfit I got a little self conscious about my “no effort day” fit.”

“What?! But you always look good no matter what you wea— I mean, I’m sure you do… not that I would know eh eh…”

Wow, he was really making it worse for himself wasn’t he? At that moment, he wanted to sink into the ground and disappear… Now that he thought about it, he should try to create something that allows him to do that.

After some more chatting, you shook his hand and excused yourself for bothering him. He told you not to be sorry and that he was happy he got to talk to you, for no particular reason of course.

As Vincent continued to wait for his turn to come up, he opened and closed his fist. He mentally noted to scrape off the bit of your DNA that was left on his palm, back at his laboratory, as a souvenir.

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

I hope you didn’t mind me slightly switching things up and liked my response! 🙏🏻

[thewalrusespublicist]

Two of Us Play: Thoughts or 'This Could Mean Nothing: The Play'

I saw Two of Us and I have thoughts. and feelings. Frustrated feelings.

What I liked: the mental health angle, the details, the research, the bones of the story and the acting for the most part (good actors, poor direction basically).

What I didn't like: First off the script needs work. At the minute it plays more as a spot the reference rather than one coherent story. This doesen't feel like convo between friends but a recap of Beatles lore with no train of thought that gets satisfyingly resolved and whilst hitting off the movie beats rather than building to them. The pay off feels less like a cathartic journey and more 'cool it's Mclennon I guess..'. Next the chemistry is off, the two leads don't feel like platonic soulmates/best frenemies and they don't fly off of each other as John and Paul did. Instead the energy is super low, even in their heightened fight scenes it doesn't feel like two people duking it out. There's no screaming and shouting, it's like two old but never that close friends going from awkward to semi awkward and back again repeatedly without ever hitting any moments of sizzling connection. This I think is partially to do with the 'nice Paul' characterization, which please lord can it end! Let our beloved alpha bitch be beloved and alpha bitchy, it's good for his skin AND MORE REAL.

I think the chemistry/energy problem is linked though to the main problem and the elephant in the room: the 'latent' homosexuality. Latent is probably the best word for it, but that's only because of the play's fear of its own implications. To be clear, with a slightly more daring director unafraid of the material, the latent would be BLATANT. The dialogue is BLATANT. John's wordplay is loaded with suggestion: 'best fuck you've ever had', 'you should have married me' and there's a closeness when they are singing on the piano which was 👀👀. The 'I love Paul' badge is also there with a 'lucky Paul' comment that COULD have built to a potentially interesting character moment. But they just fly over these bits like they haven't been said. The candlelight dinner as well that John puts on for Paul is by its nature loaded, as is John offhandedly calling him 'my love' when fiddling with the stereo during that scene.It's so casual that it feels like an accidental slip on John's part. But nothing is made of this, no pause, shift in the air, comments, nothing. This was the worst with the KISS which was initiated by John and yes, way way way too long for it to mean nothing and the Epstein jokes are completely omitted. Its a wild moment, but the play can't seem to handle what they've just laid down so just ... skates past it. Its like HAHA WEIRD RIGHT THEY JUST KISSED ANYWAY ROOF SCENE.

But the implications also aren't consistent as the whole thing is too attached to the 'Paul is a jilted victim' angle. It's Paul who is jealous of Yoko, but save a line about being surprised about Linda, John seems neutral (weird considering its JOHN making the overtures and was IRL not Linda's biggest fan). The ending is the strangest for this. They have the SNL thing like in the movie but it's weirder as Paul is CRYING. OBVIOUSLY CRYING. CAN HEAR AUDIBLY FROM A DISTANCE CRYING. The whiplash of John throwing down these implications and suggestions to just ... nonchalantly giving a hand grip goodbye and ignoring Paul's tears after going on this whole journey together is WEIRD and makes him look like a user and a selfish, insensitive prick. Like bestie your bestie is crying you can call Yoko back??? Also the end is meant to be a love you to both each other and their wives but Paul's is clearly to mostly John and John's feels mostly to Yoko. It's not a good look on John and its not a good look on his relationship with Yoko (yh John could free himself from the prison he's made for himself and was about to but the darn Yoko pull is just too strong guys). Again this would be sort of sad but fine if it was Paul making the overtures or there were no overtures but it isn't and there are! John is both the mooning would be romancer and the unavailable ex. Once again nuance and coherency (as well as Paul and Linda!) are sacrificed for the traditional John and Yoko angle. Wholeheartedly, it feels like there has been a layer of implication added onto the script, a layer which means that the original elements of the script would need to change to work but they haven't done it so you have this Frankenstein's monster of a traditionalist narrative fused with loaded suggestion.

So yeah, I think the whole thing had a lot of potential as a play but the script needs an overhaul, the actors need better chemistry and if you are going to go there, for gods sake GO THERE.

[maviezz]

Mr. GhostFace

Pairing: Stu Macher × Fem! Reader

Summary: You where on a phone call with your friend laying on your bed, when suddenly you hear something stumbling behind you…

Genre: Smut

cw: fingering, knife play, stalking, mentions of murder, dubcon (lowkey)

Word Count: 2,2k

pd: this is my first ever fic, so please let me know if there’s a spelling mistake or anything, I’ll be glad to know!!

after finishing up a gruesome murder accompanied by his accomplice, Billy, Stu ended up near your place. Picture this: he's walking down the street, fleeing from the morbid crime he had just committed, and oops, there's your house all lit up like a Friday night. Curiosity got the better of him, and he couldn't resist checking it out.

Stu's not your typical guest, and you're not big on inviting folks over. No need to bother with doorbells for him. Instead, he takes the unconventional route and climbs up to your unconventionally opened window.

So, there he is, peeping through, his eyes scanning your room , then his gaze falling on your body, trying his hardest not to make any noise that might startle you. You're having a regular chat with your friend, over the phone, not knowing you've got an unexpected audience. Stu's like, "Hey, I'm just here for the show” but little do you know, he's been high-key obsessed with you, ever since he fist laid his eyes on you.

Lying on your stomach during the phone call,swinging your feet in the air while casually twirling strands of hair. Unbeknownst to you, Stu looms as a silent observer. His gaze, a mix of fascination and a hint of obsession is fixed on every animated expression. The ordinary act of twirling hair and swinging feet becomes an unwitting performance for Stu, who watches with an eerie intensity, emotions oscillating between anticipation and a peculiar connection to the conversation. The air is charged with the unspoken presence of this uninvited spectator. In an unsettling twist, Stu makes a fateful move, generating a subtle noise that draws your attention.

A sense of unease permeates the air as I detect fumbling behind my back, a shiver coursing through as the realization dawns—window is wide open. Dread takes hold; a killer is on the loose, and turning around becomes a perilous decision. Despite the inner turmoil, curiosity prevails, and I slowly shift my body and slowly turn my head back to where the noise was coming from. The visual that greets me is bone-chilling. A visceral scream tears through the air as my eyes meet those of the masked killer, an embodiment of the very fear that lurked in the shadows.

He sensed the fear etched across my face, a pang of regret gnawing at his heart. Contrary to the ominous aura, he harbored no intentions of harm; instead, a fascination with the sight of innocence under the pale moonlight took root within him. "Don't be afraid, baby," he whispered, his emotions masked by the cold exterior of his hidden face.

His tall silhouette loomed above, a revelation that he exceeded my mental image. Gradually, he eased into my personal space, his voice softening the eerie atmosphere. "No harm will come to you from me... I just wanted to get closer to my cute crush." The unexpected confession hung in the air, a disconcerting blend of fear and an oddly misplaced sense of flattery. A chill ran down my spine as his cold, gloved touch made contact with the skin on my cheek. Beneath the black robe and mask, his warmth was an unsettling contrast. Struggling to recognize his voice, an unsettling realization dawned –The psychotic killer that is terrorizing Woodsboro was inside my room, his hand grazing against my face.

"W-what do you mean? Who are you?" I stammered, the air thick with uncertainty. However, the futility of my inquiry hung in the silence; it was evident he had no intention of revealing his identity. His gloved hand traced a light caress along my cheek, savoring the softness of my skin. With audacious intent, he gently tilted my face upward, our eyes locking beneath the eerie glow of the moonlight. "Call me Ghostface," he uttered, the words hanging in the air.

"P-please don't kill me..." I pleaded, my voice trembling with fear. The Ghostface's touch sent shivers down my spine as he carefully pushed me down onto the bed, his firm grip holding my jaw. His knee positioned in between my legs created a sense of vulnerability. Although the option to run was within reach, a peculiar force seemed to immobilize me, as if my body had taken on a will of its own, drawn to the mysterious enigma of the man on top of me. The room hung heavy with suspense, the moonlight casting an eerie glow over our unsettling connection.

A devilish smile played on Ghostface's lips beneath his masked face as he sensed my lack of resistance. With a sinister grace, he pulled himself closer, a strange yet intense sensation coursing through his entire being as my delicate form pressed against him. "Don't worry, baby... I only wanna play with you," he whispered, the words hanging in the air, dripping with an ominous promise that left the room steeped in an unsettling tension. I gasped in horror as Ghostface pulled out a knife, holding it softly against my neck. "Please..." I pleaded, the dread tightening its grip on my trembling form. Slowly, he ran the blade down my chest, tearing my shirt and exposing a vulnerability that left me in display for him to feast on. A mixture of fear and helplessness hung in the air, as my breath got caught in my throat.

A shiver of anticipation ran through the Ghostface as he felt my soft skin against him. He savored the moment, relishing the intimacy, before teasingly pulling away. "You have beautiful tits” he remarked, his thumb tracing slow circles on one of my sensitive peaks, the air hung heavy with tension.

“m-mhm- fuck!” A gentle, almost imperceptible sound escaped my lips—a soft mewl—when his cold-gloved fingers delicately traced the contours of my nipple, each touch sending subtle shivers through my whole body.

The Ghostface couldn't help but express his delight through a low grunt, leaning in to whisper, “You're so captivating... I've dreamt of having you like this.'" My breath caught sharply as he violently tore apart my shirt, the fabric being tossed across the room...

“p-please don’t do this” My mind recoiled, hesitant and fearful, yet my body, in stark contrast, responded with an undeniable allure. Despite the trepidation, the man behind the mask exuded a captivating charm that stirred within me a sense of arousal, the wet spot on my panties making it impossible to hide.

He smirked behind the mask as you tried to push him away while also reacting to his touch. He slowly trailed his gloved hand down your stomach, making your skin tingle in anticipation “I won't do anything you don't want, baby." His hand found its way to the hem of your panties, slowly pushing them down to reveal your shivering and oh so damp folds. The scent of arousal was overpowering in the small room, making him even harder than before. He leaned in closer, his hot breath caressing your neck “You're so wet for me... It's like you want it."

My palms met his chest, pressing them flat against it, detecting a subtle firmness. "I'm going to call the cops," I stammered, my voice wavering. His eyes met mine as I felt the warmth of his chest beneath my hands.A sly grin adorned his lips, and he remarked, "Go ahead, make the call. But can they beat the clock?" The room seemed to pulse with tension as I hesitated, torn between the urge to reach for my phone and the magnetic pull of the man before me. His eyes held a challenge, daring me to follow through on my threat.

As the seconds stretched, I could sense the weight of his challenge in the air. The room became a battleground of wills, my hand still lingering on his chest. The unspoken tension crackled, I decided that it was best for me not to piss him off. The Ghostface smirked, enjoying your confusion. “Good choice, princess... but don't be surprised if my next move leaves you drenched." He slowly pushed his middle through your wet folds, moaning quietly as he felt just how ready you were for him. He pulled his finger out and teased your swollen clit in slow circles making it throb against his touch. A soft moan escaped my lips involuntarily as his touch sent shivers through me, his thumb pressing wet circles on my hardened nub . "F-fuck-Please don't do this," I whispered, my plea hanging in the charged air between us.

He continued toying with you, feeling your body become more and more aroused under his fingertips. He leaned in closer and whispered softly in your ear “You're such a tease, baby... making me hard for you." His voice was low and seductive as he felt your wetness begin to drip onto his finger. The realization struck him like lightning— he knew, in that very moment, that he desired you.

Flushed with embarrassment, I found myself incapable of pulling away or resisting. My pussy was glistening with my arousal, my body succumbing gradually to the allure of his touch. "D-don't," I stammered, the plea escaping my lips amid the internal struggle.Ghostface sensed your body yielding to him and couldn't resist any longer.

With a sudden movement, he slipped two long fingers into your wet cunt making you gasp in surprise. He slid them in and out slowly savoring the feeling of your warmth surrounding him. His other hand cupped your left breast, fondling it softly, feeling the warmth of your skin beneath the latex of his glove. “s-stop!” i whimpered faintly, the feeling of his middle finger inside my aching core was heady mixture of intoxication and delight sweeping over me, compelling my fingers to delicately clench the bedsheets beneath my quivering body, each thread bearing witness to the intensity of the moment.

He chuckled softly, his eyes dark with desire as he looked down on you. His fingers found your sweet spot and began to tease it mercilessly, causing your hips to buck up against him in desperation. "Do you like that, hmm?"

With a gradual nod, I acknowledged my surrender. Lost in his touch, the resistance that once lingered vanished; I no longer felt the need to push him away.

The Ghostface saw your submission and pushed his fingers deeper inside you, curling them to maximize your pleasure. Your breathing grew heavier as the sensation began to consume you, making you feel like a bundle of fire. “I'll give you what you want... just let me have my fill." He watched with satisfaction as your body arched under his touch. His other hand reached over to your core and circled your clit in time with his fingers, driving you closer and closer to the edge. With a groan, he leaned in closer, his masked face against your ear. "You're mine now”. He coos. In that shared moment of lust and pure passion, the room seemed to shrink, enveloping us in a cocoon of intimacy. We were entangled in a dance, where every touch, and every pump of his fingers inside my sopping hole spoke more than words possibly could.

“m’gonna cum~”i grunted softly, my hips bucking onto his fingers, my back slightly arching off the bed, spit was dripping down my mouth. The scene unfolded like a cliché scenario from a porn movie, akin to something you might find on a Blockbuster rental shelf—undeniably sensual and provocative. He felt your pussy clamp around his fingers as you reached the peak of pleasure.

He rode the wave with you, relishing every tremble until it slowly subsided. His eyes roved over your flushed and sweat-drenched body, making him even harder “That's it baby, cum for me." his fingers kept pumping inside of me as I milked my orgasm, my whole body shook in pleasure, soft gasps leaving my body “f-fuck…” I muttered, my chest rising up and down softly as I came down from the high of the wrecking orgasm.

He pulled his fingers out slowly, coating them with your arousal. He brought them up to his mask and breathed in deeply, savoring your scent before trailing them over your sensitive clit “You're delicious, baby."

A loud moan involuntarily escaped my mouth in response to the unexpected slap across my drenched cunt. "O-ow!" I exclaimed, the sting resonating with a mixture of surprise and discomfort.

The Ghostface's wicked laughter echoed, a chilling soundtrack to my discomfort. "You wanted it, now take it like a good girl," his words, laced with dominance, hung in the air, adding a layer of intensity to the unfolding scene. "Why are you leaving?" I questioned, the vulnerability in my voice evident, as he stood up from the bed and adjusted his robe. My gaze followed him as he walked towards the window. A smile played on his lips, but you couldn’t see it. He looked down at me over his shoulder. "I'll see you soon. Don't forget our little secret," he whispered before vanishing from sight.

Left in his wake, a mix of arousal and puzzlement lingered, the room now filled with the aftermath of an enigmatic encounter.

Confusion swept over me, grappling with the surreal reality of the town's masked murderer appearing in my room, fingering me, and then abruptly vanishing as if nothing. The experience felt terrifyingly unbelievable, leaving me bewildered in its wake.

[ashanimus]

On Hunter's Fighting Style and Eclipse Lake

So: Hunter and fighting. Thank you @carpisuns for enabling me.

What he does is he sets up a guard position, and immediately tries to move to an enemy’s blind spot. He would have learned that to compensate around a casting opponent before he had magic--his only hope without a magical staff would be “defend defend defend” and get close enough to break their guard. The goal is a decisive blow to the head or neck to end combat. The priority is staying up because if he’s pinned or disarmed, he’s screwed.

 The ability to teleport means that he starts in a strong defensive position and basically gets a sneak attack, rinse/repeat/adapt. Generally speaking he has to end fights as fast as possible, and given that he trained without magic his whole strategy is built around DEFEND first, decisive strike, DEFLECT magical force (a stick can't hope to counter it without magic). We also see a little bit of this implied training with his parkour abilities. Without the ability to fly, or the ability to summon plants to carry him to his destination, he would've had to learn all of this physically. Let's dig into some of the details of how this separates Hunter from most of his opponents. Let's talk about FIGHTING!

Most witches take their magic purely for granted. Because of this, it is likely uncommon for people to turn their own bodies into extremely efficient machines like how martial artists or athletes are required to. In their own way, these skills are generally probably pretty impressive to the average witch outside of combat — and within it they're surprising at least for the first few seconds. And in combat, seconds are really what matter. Most actual fights are over in less than 10. And one of the things that separates a trained fighter from a casual brawler or the average person defending themselves is the conditioning it takes to actually respond in time. 

Most people don't respond to fight stimuli by fighting. Most people go into freeze or flight. When it comes to serious fight training, one of the first things that happens is called conditioning. For sports that means getting the body into a particular kind of well, condition — but for combat the conditioning is also mental. If you've seen stereotypes of things like Army boot camp where the drill sergeant is yelling at people and slinging abuse constantly, that's actually part of it. I am reliably told they try not to do this as much anymore. But if you're doing something like Krav Maga which is more or less brutal streetfighting but formalized in a dojo environment that is absolutely part of the training (or at least, it was part of mine!).

Specifically, when you're learning the throw punch or doing a series of them, what they will have us do is scream and swear at our opponents (and they will sometimes scream and swear at us during spars or drills) in order to condition our minds as well as our bodies for the ugliness of an actual violent confrontation. Yelling, intimidation, insults, swears those are all part of the human "puff up and look big" thing. The other thing about conditioning in this way is the instructor teaching someone how to be hit and actually hit back. As I said before, most people tend to sink into freeze or flight. The average person who has not been trained needs to be hit an average of six times before they're able to summon up the nerve to strike back. By then, the confrontation is almost always over.

The reason I outline all of this is because it highlights the conditioning gulf between Hunter and the others, as well as trying to explain how he’d be approaching most enemies and WHY. Speed and dexterity is obviously critical, but the approach matters immensely as well.

This is especially true when you have a combatant like Hunter who is starting from a punishing disadvantage against the vast majority of his casting opponents. Without magic, the only weapon he has is his body. When you train on a weapon, that weapon becomes an extension of your body. As such, a critical part of this kind of training is gaining an awareness of the body in order to hone in mind-to-muscle control. Martial artists, dancers, etc have a scary amount of precise control in this way, not that much different than an excellent musician who understands their hands and the intimate ins and outs of their instrument. Developing awareness, control and practice is what creates reliable muscle memory. This more than anything is Hunter’s (and any martial artists tbh) superpower.

Witch's magic is shown to be driven by emotions, thoughts and feelings.

This gives them the benefit of reflexes helping them out in the face of sudden danger, but nobody is invulnerable to the sudden appearance of somebody inside their personal bubble hitting them in the temple with a really big stick. If Hunter is on target and playing for keeps the confrontations is over, witches duel: won. Even without magic. 

Once Hunter has access to magic, his muscle memory is the same, with added oomph and a battle style combat-ready witches would be baffled by. Brawlers would be exceedingly rare on the BI except for niche sports and probably those highly unusual witches and demons who practice a form of magical martial arts. One or more of these unusual individuals would have helped train him (someone had to and Belos seems like he’d move like a broken ikea chair on his best day when he’s not a bone-rotted goop monster). Likely more. Hunter was obviously not allowed to get close to any teachers (I would expect that they were under strict orders to stay distant or otherwise motivated). 

So most of this is context to kind of the depth I saw and how Hunter's fighting movements are animated, but now let me go into how his actual personality and emotional conflicts affect his ability to fight.

Over the course of the show, we can see a pretty direct correlation of his emotional state and priorities to his efficacy and fight. Basically, when his goal is directly aligned with how he feels about it, he’s very good. But when those things have conflict, his effectiveness goes down. When we first meet him as the GG, he is very intimidating and using heavy amounts of magic from the staff Belos gave him. He rolls easily through his first encounter with Luz, etc etc. And even though neither Eda or Luz are capable of putting up too much of a fight, he's goofing around for the entirety of that encounter, you can hear the smile even while he's dodging — and it's one of easy confidence. He can trust his body to do most of that pretty much automatically which frees him up to pontificate.

Against Kikimora he was effective because despite the fact he was self-sabotaging his mission, it was within his moral alignment. He was defending himself, but Luz had moved him, and he protected her. Protecting, generally speaking, his Hunter’s preference and his entire fighting style is based mostly on defensive forms. And being by nature a gentle person, defense feels better — especially when he knew Luz was doing the right thing in protecting the Palismen. It was one of the instances that we see where his intelligence was able to overcome his brainwashing long enough to act on it, and the Avenue was Luz's respect and kindness. That being said, fighting Kikimora was more of a struggle or at the very least a more even contest. Even debilitated by the sleeping nettles, Kikimora was not a pushover and he did end up letting his guard down pretty significantly and that she did get the first hit on him, distracted as he was by his emotional moment with Luz. The giving of the name was an explicit show of vulnerability that was immediately exploited by an opponent who if she had aimed slightly to the left would've caved his skull in.

Now, Eclipse Lake is a little more interesting. There were a ton of factors that led to him fighting to a standstill with Amity. I wouldn't really call it a loss either, but I'll get into that in just a second.

Hunter is at this point fueled by anxiety. He started the entire endeavor by deliberately disobeying a direct order from the mouth of the Emperor to try and make up for a recent failure that Belos has let Hunter believe is affecting his favor. Already that's an unbelievably emotional place with incredibly high stakes. At this point, we're well aware of the fact that Belos treats Hunter brutally. The best case scenario for returning empty-handed after disobeying a direct order is a beating that would probably leave him with more scars than he started, but what Hunter actually fears is being replaced. While at this stage he doesn't regard his life as something that necessarily belongs to him, but the successful outcome of this might as well be life-and-death. 

Deliberately disobeying the Emperor does actually have a material impact on how Hunter arrives at the Knee. Because this is a stealth mission, he wasn’t able to bring his mechanical staff--the thing that would give him away to Kikimora. Flapjack had not fully become his palisman yet. Which means that Hunter hiked up that mountain after Kikimora and her party, navigating waist deep snow knowing that if he was caught she would kill him. He also knows that she is currently surrounded by her partisans, and it is super unlikely that any of them would stick up for him in a way that would put them at odds with her. With no support, no ability to take a break and probably no rations he was probably pretty hungry, tired and dehydrated by the time Eda and Amity had made it up there. And they had the benefit of being able to fly. That's one thing I don't see people talking about enough when it comes to considering the relative strength of Amity and Hunter. The little rag-eared bastard had already had a very very long and physically arduous and miserable day, maybe even more than one!.

He also bit off more than he could reasonably chew with those disadvantages in mind. He only has to make one mistake and he’s toast. He didn’t account for Flapjack dragging him to Eda and Amity’s feet. As far as he knew, they could have really hurt him, or left him--having no guarantee or even expectation of Flapjack’s assistance. But none of this changes the fact that Hunter spends the next couple of hours tied up. Amity wasn't gentle (why would she be?). We see him rubbing his wrists and stretching his shoulders out once he is free.

Cartoons often don't make anything of this gesture, but the truth of it is this: if you been bound for any length of time, especially in the position that Hunter was, what it does is it yanks on your shoulders, your chest, it hurts the hell out of your elbows and you lose feeling in your hands. The minute you’re released, all the blood goes back into those areas and it hurts like hell. IT REALLY HURTS. And you're stiff.

Which finally brings us back to the actual confrontation between Amity and Hunter. Hunter has experienced incredible emotional highs and lows over the course of this journey. There were probably at least three or four times where he was almost killed. He is tired as hell, frozen stiff, probably in pain, almost certainly hasn't eaten or had anything to drink for a very inappropriate amount of time and he has no weapon. He's also on the brink of despair and crackup. And his mission? At this point, he’s staring down the barrel of guaranteed failure. When Amity is talking to him and trying to comfort him, he is so up a creek that for a moment he actually is hearing what she has to say. Given the depth of his devotion to Belos at this point  that is saying a lot about how he feels about his prospects at the moment. 

So when he sees the key, he attacks her out of desperation. Pure emotion. He has to at least try. There is no scenario where an unarmed combatant can wrestle the armed abomination prodigy with auxiliary support. Then Flapjack joins the fight, and that changes everything. You can see it in how his expression changes once he takes what's offered: magical aid. Suddenly he has a fighting chance. A fighting chance. 

However, he is now using a weapon he's never used before — and I think that has a huge impact on how that fight went. Palismen are shown to respond to their wielder's thoughts. Later, in ASIAS, we can even see Flapjack responding to Hunter's mind when he's doing all the staff tricks to impress the students. This leads me to believe that wielding a Palisman staff is less like swinging an inert stick and more like moving a limb. And when your entire fighting style depends on knowing exactly where your own center of mass is at absolutely all times, that would change Hunter's balance, and throw his timing and physicality off.

All things considered, given the unbelievable disadvantage that Hunter started with, I kind of wish the fandom gave him more credit. With his emotions in absolute tatters in addition to being a physical disaster and using a new weapon, he is absolutely at his worst here! Amity is fighting from a position of knowing she has backup coming in addition to the backup she already has in King. Even then, she's fighting to get away from him. And Hunter, in addition to using a new tool and all of the aforementioned problems is going full out on the attack-- which is very contrary to how he prefers to fight. When you go this feral into a combat, the emotional place itself is a disadvantage.

And even after all that? Amity didn't beat him. They fought to a standstill.

She has a blade to his throat, he had Flapjack on her hand. With Flapjack in his possession, if for any reason she tried to open his throat he would still have the option of flash stepping away. She might have cut his neck enough to bleed, but not enough to kill him instantly. In holding the way she did, she missed her chance at a fatal opening (and she's never killed anyone before. Interpretation is out for Hunter, I generally don't headcannon him as ever having killed directly with his own hands although I do think he's done some real damage).

He says to her, "Listen. You're strong, and I'm tired. If this continues, you'll probably escape. But here's the thing: we know where to find you--and your human."

The first part of that statement has way less to do with Amity's training or skill as an equal to Hunter's (she clearly has a little, but if you're as good as Hunter is at his age, you would've started at around three years old and that probably was not the case for Amity), and more a statement of the fact that Hunter is actually physically exhausted and there is the slight possibility that Amity might be able to outlast him in terms of endurance. But what I think is a lot more pertinent is the reality that Hunter has an incredibly small window of time to achieve victory before Eda the HARPY OWL LADY comes flying through that tunnel to beat his already exhausted ass.

He also says: "If this CONTINUES". And he even says probably. He's incredibly fucking tough at least in terms of what he's capable of enduring before he falls down and can't get up.

If Eda did come through to help Amity, the best case scenario for Hunter at that point is they leave him senseless or in too rough of a shape to escape from Kikimora. Kikimora openly despises him, is extremely petty/cruel, and is surrounded by her own partisans (who have demonstrable willingness to murder teenagers!). She screeched about how excited she was about exacting revenge (and unbeknownst to Hunter she absolutely knows how disposable he is in the grand scheme of things!).

She’s a lot more interested in Hunter’s blood than Titan’s blood at the moment. Hunter would die BADLY and slowly at her little claws if she got him. 

So he tries a last-ditch measure by leveling a threat Amity that he couldn’t hope to carry out even if he wanted to. It's ironic that the only reason that they were both able to achieve a partial victory here is because Hunter was able to effectively empathize with her enough to see his own vulnerability in her and squeeze it.

To all that stuff about how his emotions affect his ability to battle, if we look at what happened on the day of unity, at that stage he was still unable to confront his abuser and would-be murderer. He did not strike Belos once, and spent the whole time playing defense on behalf of his friends, taking up a defensive position and otherwise moving them out of harm's way. He's in the process of actively dying and his right (dominant) arm is paralyzed, so his form is pretty crap but this speaks to his iron will to stay breathing for as long as he can. And he's lasted a lot longer than the most affected adults. The lack of a bile sac probably comes into it a bit...but it's not the only factor here.

So yeah! I hope that this provides a little bit more nuance to the conversation! And again, thank you to the animators and storyboarders for taking such time and care for portraying Hunter’s fighting with respect to his personality and arc. 

For anyone interested in my meta and analysis, please check out the "ash's owl house meta" tag on this blog and/or follow @idlescree for my video essays! We have more in the works coming soon :)

Tags for those who requested tags!

@skyelights-xox @rainbowangel110 @bookworm010307

[popcornforone]

Laundry

A Javier Peña Fic

Day 25 of Pedrotober

Masterlist

It’s time. I’ve finally completed a Javier Peña fic. & even though this is relatively short, it was still hard to write. I don’t have the best relationship with Narcos. Both times I’ve tried to watch it, has been when I’ve not been in a good place mentally, & I’ve never finished it. So when I think of writing for him I always hit a wall. So to get this written & published was a huge task but I did it. So you can now all finally go woohoo she wrote for him.

Synopsis:- whilst doing the laundry you find your favourite shirt of Javiers.

Word count:- 850

Warnings over & above:- descriptive nature of his body & how the shirt makes you feel, groping, teasing, swearing, mentioning past sexual encounters, getting each other off.

Thanks for the read people. I know some of you Amy want more of this for him but maybe it will inspire me to complete my other Peña in draft. @alyssamariag & @norththelemon thanks for the prompts.

There you stand, in your utility room. Your washer finishes its cycle. It’s a nice hot day, you know you have time to do two loads & get them both out to dry & come back in ready for ironing later. You don’t mind getting up to do the house work early on a Sunday as it means you have more free time in the afternoon to do what you want.

You did the coloured wash first. The whites & bedding will be next. You stand there & make sure nothing gets stuck at the back. No red or blue sock is going to stain all your neural colours in a minute. You bright yellow dress comes out & you sniff it. All the soap is out, & it smells so good so you unload the machine. Turning everything the right way round to make your job easier when you hang out the laundry.

It’s the second to last item you pull out. Your eyes widen at it. It’s the shirt. The shirt that sent you delulu even before last week. You’ll never tell Javier this but you’ve always called this the pink shirt of sex. Tight fitting, long neck line, buttons that do up for decency. The way he tucks it into those jean, those tight jeans. He likes them tight & fitting in all those places that catch your eye. How he always looks so big. It’s not just his gun he’s packing down there. How it shows off his arms. The muscles bulgin out, he’s so broad too. The shirt literally clings to him for all his life.

& then the man sweats. By god he sweats. It’s stained, you can’t get the marks under the armpits away. You think about last week. It had been on the news that he had made a crucial arrest. Agent Peña the hero of the day with some good news. You’d already prepped tacos for him, but when he got in & you saw the sweat still dripping off him & the pale pink shirt was now dark pink, you dropped your cocktail on the floor. His fringe still damp, his skin glistening. You pounced. You didn’t even ask him how he was. His lips felt incredible, the way your hand slid inside his tight shirt getting matted in his sticky chest hair was unforgettable. He pushed you on to the kitchen counter as he removed his belt & pulled down your panties from under your yellow dress & he fucked you hard. Glasses smashing off the side. Your hands wondering over him as he sweated even more as the hand not gripping your hip, furiously rubbing your clit. You were both making so much noise in passion that the neighbours were hammering on the back door to check a murder wasn’t going on for all the screaming. Neither of you cared. He got his prize & his stressful day out with the woman he loved, & you got to fuck the hero the town wanted to please, but he only has eyes for you now. His sweaty musk after he build up more heat, still lingers in your nostrils even if the shirt is now clean.

“If you can smell drugs on it they aren’t mine” you jolt & almost drop the pink shirt. Javier is standing behind you. A Casual shirt open, to show off his magnificent torso & shorts which one of his hands is inside stroking his length. He’s admiring how short the shorts you are wearing are. Appreciating your midriff on display.

“No P…” you smirk & add it to the basket”I was just remembering…”

“How good it felt as I made you scream like a whore last week?” He takes a step forward & you moan & nod. His hand caresses your cheek. “How good it sounded when we screamed each others names?” You nod again as his thumb traces over your crimson lips. “& how good it felt when you came so hard, your body shook for almost an hour?”

“Fuck yes Javier” you touch his chest, as your make out begins & he pushes you back against the washer. It clonks & he looks & smiles. He tugs at your tie up top, he can see your nipples harden. you have no bra on, for this lazy Sunday. It makes his life much easier & his lust bursting from the seams.

“Anymore washing to be done?” He asks leaving his first love bite of the day on your neck.

“1 more all the whites”

“Good”

“Why Javier” you ask curiously.

“I’ve heard a rumour out on the street that if you sit a woman on a washing machine as it spins, it’s like an orgasm”

“Javier!” You protest & see him giggle & lean into the washer getting out the final item of clothing, your lacy black bra. He licks his lips.

“It’s okay baby, we don’t have too, I was just intrigued”

“Well now if it’s for science we have to do it” you reply & he then turns around & picks up the basket of white & neutral colour washing.

“I’m more than happy to put in the research”