#first time writing either of them so please have some mercy

[quin-ns]

Knuckle Velvet (Aegon II Targaryen x Reader)

Word count: 1.9K

Summary: Aegon is desperate for the love of the sister he truly wants, even if he has to take it

Tags: (18+), cw: non-con, cw: sibling incest, targaryen!reader, dark themes, choking, fingering, unprotected sex (obvi, it’s hotd times), hair pulling kinda, forced orgasm, aegon is lowkey pathetic but also threatening

A/N: first aegon fic. I’d been wanting to write for him but with the new season and him getting hotter (maybe he looks the same and I just got more into him idk) I had to write him

HotD masterlist + main masterlist

Aegon’s head weighed heavy on your lap, but even as your legs began to grow numb, you let him be. Your fingers lightly carded through his silver hair in the way you knew he wanted.

“I like it when you take care of me,” your brother had told you many times. It had to be the truth, given how often he’d seek you out just to curl up next to you.

Sometimes he’d sit like this, his head in your lap like some kind of dog, wanting his hair stroked and your words of assurance. He could fall asleep like this, or let tears slip down his cheeks. Other times he’d crawl on top of you and take the love he was desperate for. He could kiss away your silent tears, or muffle your cries with his lips.

Either way, he kept returning to you, begging for your attention and affection.

It might’ve been amusing, how weak he could be to you, if he wasn’t so terrifying at the same time.

Tonight, as Aegon muttered about his most recent council meeting, you thought perhaps you’d be spared his touch tonight.

“I should have been wed to you,” he muttered, voice holding onto a bitterness he had yet to let go. “I can stand your company and I already spend more time in your bed. I’ve suffered enough cruelty in my life, being allowed to marry who I please should’ve been a mercy I was granted. It makes no difference to our line.”

You had had this conversation many times to the point you were beyond tired of speaking about it. Helaena was the eldest sister, it had made sense to your mother and grandsire to pair the two together. They couldn’t have known the resentment that would build in the king.

Helaena was the correct choice for queen. You would not have the stomach for it. Helaena had already given birth to two of his children. Aegon was occasionally amused by them, but it was your sister that doted on them. She was a good mother. You didn’t think you could bring yourself to be. You were grateful to the maesters who would bring you tea and turn a blind eye to Aegon’s doings. The rumors that would circulate him would not ruin his future the way they would you. You’d yet to marry and if word got out you lacked virtue, you may never. You didn’t want Aegon to get the satisfaction.

You suspected Aegon no longer laid with his wife, and she was fortunate for that. If he loved you as much as he claimed and still had to kiss bruises in the morning, you didn’t dare to imagine what he could’ve done to her. She had given him a son and a daughter, and perhaps that was enough for him.

Aegon sat up and you flinched, even as he looked at you with tears in his eyes. You wondered if he recognized how insulting it was to hear him whine about his responsibilities, to listen to him say he loved you and list off the things he wanted to give you, only for him to not lift a finger for either. Duties went ignored. His love remained violent. You were tired. So very, very tired.

A hand found your face, fingers pressing into the skin of your cheek. Aegon’s thumb dragged down your lips, pulling the bottom one apart from the top. His gaze pierced yours as he let your lip go in favor of letting his thumb tilt up your chin when you tried to look away.

“Do you love me?” Aegon pleaded.

He stared at your mouth, waiting for you to speak. Your lips remained pressed together. Tears spilled further down his pale cheeks. Aegon’s face twisted as something other than just begging shined through his eyes.

Your lack of response rewarded you with a hand around the throat. Then again, you could’ve said exactly what he desired and received the same. He enjoyed his power over you as you’d never been one to fight back. At least this way you could remain somewhat defiant.

Aegon kissed you like he was trying to bruise your lips. His kiss was all teeth and tongue, forcefully claiming you as he left his mark. Aegon took what he wanted and cared nothing for charm or patience.

Hands fell to your shoulders, gliding over them for only a second before they pressed. Your back hit the mattress with a gasp. Aegon’s teeth found your neck as he crawled on top of you. The weight was already crushing. With each button on your gown he undid, the faster your heart raced.

“You are beautiful, sister,” he said, sounding wrecked already as he admired your naked body. You believed he meant it, but it didn’t spare you. “If only you weren’t being so stubborn with your words.”

Aegon’s hand on your neck was no more welcome than the first time he’d gripped it, but at least you’d grown better at controlling your breathing.

He made himself comfortable between your legs. The hand on your neck remained firm, while the other disappeared inside you.

You hated how he knew to do this. To prepare you for him. Something you were certain he’d learned at a pleasure house. That was the last thing you wanted to feel. At least if it hurt you could remind yourself you did not want this. You did not want Aegon to touch you or kiss you or fuck you. But when a warmth began to form inside you and slick coated his skilled fingers, your mind would always begin to blur and doubt crept in, while a smirk would appear on his lips. It happened every time without fail and this was no exception.

“You’ll have to speak to me sometime,” Aegon goaded, fingers stroking your walls. He leaned down over you, his lips pressing to your ear as he whispered, “Perhaps it’ll be when you scream my name.”

When, not if. Arrogance was a most undesirable feature of your eldest brother.

You tried to shut your thighs when Aegon withdrew his hand, but a harsh slap to your skin reminded you of your place. You grit your teeth and close your eyes as the head of his cock pressed into you. You’d lost count of how many times he’d done this, but it took your breath every time when he slammed into the hilt.

“Look at me,” he grunted. You could feel air hit your face, knowing his face was above you.

You cracked your eyes open when he squeezed your neck. His eyes would’ve been beautiful if they didn’t have such a lifeless quality to them.

Your throat bobbed against his hand as you swallowed, but no words left you. The sole purpose was to frustrate him. Tomorrow you’d speak to him as usual, but tonight, like you did some nights, you wanted to make your resistance known, even if his cock was buried in you.

He kissed you when he began to move. The hand on your throat remained as his lips attached to yours. His other hand groped at you, running over your hips, your waist, your breasts—anything he could touch. He thrust into you with power, forcing your legs apart. All you could do was lie there and take it.

Aegon breathed heavily against your mouth as your body welcomed him. Your mind had no say in the matter. Your warm, wet walls clung to his cock as he fucked you hard. Your legs wrapped around him without your say and that really drove him mad with lust.

His hand finally left your neck as both rose to run through your hair. Aegon’s hands were rough as he held your face in place by your scalp. Your winces of pain went ignored as usual. The sound of skin against skin echoed through the room and your face grew even more heated at the sound of your own slickness that joined. He parted from your lips to watch your face.

“I can see your pleasure, sister. Your body does not lie. Your face does not lie.”

You wanted to turn your head but you could not. You gripped the sheets as he pressed into you harder with each motion, letting you feel the thick length of him inside you even longer. Your legs began to shake as heat throbbed in your belly.

“Ae—” you cut yourself off, but it was too late.

You’d begun to give him the satisfaction of winning but had snatched it away. Aegon wouldn’t have that. He couldn’t.

His eyes looked wild as Aegon fisted your hair. “Say it,” he hissed. “Say anything.”

One would have mistaken his tone for anger, or something else, but you knew what it truly was. The desperation in his voice might’ve conjured pity if he wasn’t busy splitting you open on his cock. His thrusts picked up again and you felt your body beginning to tighten around him.

Your back arched off the bed as his harsh movements forced your legs further apart to make room for him. Aegon was growing frantic, chasing his desires with fervor.

One hand stayed in your hair while the other snaked between your bodies. A moan tore through you when the palm of his hand pressed to the top of your cunt. Another trick you were certain had been taught to him to find the most pleasure. Your hips bucked down against him, the need from your body for the pressure causing it to act on its own.

It was all so overwhelming, the word slipped from your lips before you could think to stop.

“Aegon!” you cried out. You didn’t even know what for. Surely for him to stop, but a blinding pleasure began to rattle you. Your legs locked around him, holding him deep inside you as your body quivered and clenched around him. You could barely breathe as the feeling of release wracked your entire being in a sudden instant.

Aegon cursed above you, his breaths coming out harsh. He gave quick, sharp thrusts, barely able to move with the grip of your legs. You felt his cock throb of you before he spilled inside of you with a deep moan. He shoved his hips forward, encasing himself in your body as he forced you to ride out your pleasure alongside him.

Finally, when your vision began to clear, you forced your legs to drop. You laid limp beneath him as Aegon collapsed on top of you. You shivered as his face pressed to your neck. You clenched your teeth as he nipped at your bruised neck. You even felt a tear stream down your cheek.

“You love me,” Aegon stated. It was not a question this time. He lifted his head, silver hair sticking to his forehead as his eyes searched yours. “You can deny it, or refuse to speak it, but you do.”

Whether he believed that or not, you couldn’t be certain. He spoke with conviction, but as you left him without a response, you noticed the familiar glint of sadness in his eyes as he fought back tears of his own.

With a quiver to his voice he added, “And I love you.”

As much as your body ached and your neck throbbed, deep down, you knew with certainty that he believed he did.

[genshin-obsessed]

When Someone Flirts with You! | Honkai Star Rail

Someone saw this coming and I'm very proud of you for figuring it out. Yeah, I've been getting into star rail and I thought I'd just write since I can't really think of genshin things to write right now lol this is barely edited, so have mercy <3 idk tags rn so please help me out :') ✧ Includes: Dan Heng, Welt, Sampo, Gepard, Jing Yuan, Luocha, Blade ✧ Extra: Luocha and Blade might be ooc, I'm not too familiar with them as of right now. ✧ Come one, come all! See what happens when someone flirts with you in front of your men!

Dan Heng

Dan Heng is a really private person, he’s not a fan of showing off everything. So he’s not one to flaunt you around, but it’s not hard to tell you’re both in a relationship. He’s around you like… all the time.

He’s not one to follow around like a helicopter boyfriend, but he’s got an eye on you. If he sees someone bothering you, he’s behind them in an instant.

0/10. Dan Heng’s not super scary so they could ignore him and continue flirting with you. For a moment, he’ll just stand there as he listens to some of the dumb things they’re gonna say. You two make fun of them later for it. But then he hears something along the lines of, “come on, i’ll treat you better.” he don’t like that. 

How is this creep better than him?! They couldn’t even tell you were uncomfortable. Dan Heng will usually place a hand on their shoulder and his grip gets tighter every second the creep is still in front of you. Paired with his glare…

10/10 the creep is gone. You sigh in relief and walk to Dan Heng quietly, wrapping your arms around his waist. He immediately hugs back, stroking your hair a little.

“Let’s go somewhere else. I don’t like it here anymore.” You agreed.

Welt

Well, he doesn’t hang around you 24/7, he’s a busy man. But it’s also not hard to tell you’re dating either. Welt isn’t crazy about PDA, but he’ll give you a quick kiss every now and then and often gives you hugs (per your request).

He believes you’re capable of taking care of yourself, so he’s often not paying attention. That doesn’t mean he won’t look over at you every now and then. This time, he just happened to see some creepy creep trying to creep up on you. 

“Are you ok, (y/n)?” Is the first thing he asks when he walks up to you. He will literally ignore the existence of the creep beside him. Usually what happens here is that you’ll nod and he’ll “accidentally” shove the creepy away and urge you to come talk with him and his friends. The creep is usually so confused they walk away. But sometimes- sometimes- they follow.

Welt does NOT like that. I mean it was one thing to not take the hint from your face, but then to stop you when you’re actively trying to leave?

Welt will turn around and just glare at them. Like that silent, “I will kill you” kinda glare. It’s a staring contest for a moment before the creepy creep just kinda turns away and leaves. Sometimes, Welt does have to smack them with his lil cane. Sometimes.

“Anyway, we’re over here. Would you like a drink?”

Sampo

Sampo is all over you, usually. He loves you and the world should know? Sometimes, he can go too far so just let him know. Anyway, since he’s always over you, people know you’re dating him.

Usually at parties and events, he’s hanging off your arm, but sometimes he’s gotta go talk to some of his other friends and acquaintances. He keeps an eye on you.

Here’s the thing, he’ll come up and flirt with you too but try to one up the creep. “You look fine, darling,” - the creep. “You look so beautiful, every star in the sky and the moons pale in comparison.” - Sampo.

0/10. Of course, the creep gets irritated and asks what the hell Sampo is doing. Sampo just gives him a condescending smile and says, “that’s my partner you’re talking to. I’m not gonna let you just creep up on them.” There’s… a glint in his eyes that’s unnerving. Even you can see it.

69/10. The creep runs off, making some excuse or whatever. Sampo watches them for a minute before turning to you and smiling. You rush to give him a hug and he happily returns it.

“Wanna go home? Seems like that idiot trashed your mood a little.”

Gepard

Gepard is a very shy guy and he’s not one to be all touchy-touchy without you doing it first. He gets all flustered and looks away… but he’ll lean into your touch.

He usually sticks around you, keeping your attention so no creepies come by, but sometimes he gets pulled away. He always lets you know he’ll be right back and leaves for just a few moments. Enough for a creepy to sneak in >:0

When Gepard notices the creep, he wastes no time walking over to you. “Is everything ok?” He asked, looking at you. If you shook your head, that was it. The captain of the silvermane’s came out!

The first glare is usually a 50/50. Sometimes, the creeps acted all annoyed and walk away, pretending they’re not scared but other times… they challenge him. Gepard just places a hand on their shoulder and shoves them back. It’s actually surprisingly strong- they’ll fall over sometimes.

10/10, that usually sends them running. On rare occasions there’s that ONE creepy who just stands up and tries to take him on lmao. You know to take a step back because Gepard kinda skips the arresting and just goes to ass kicking. And he’s the shy boyfriend.

“So… we should go now. Yeah, no, just leave the creep there.”

Jing Yuan

Jing Yuan isn't the most affectionate boyfriend, but he doesn’t mind letting people know you two are together. Depends on your comfort level.

He’s a busy man, so at that fancy event, he can’t always be at your side but he tries to keep you by him. Of course, you decided to go get a drink, he happily agreed. You went off and he kept greeting more officials. You didn’t return, so he looked over and he just saw you turning away from a creep who just grabbed your arm!

Jing Yuan elegantly excuses himself and basically sneaks up behind the guy. He’ll stand there which brings you tons of relief, enough to let the creep ramble and ramble and ramble. “I could take you out to dinner, (nickname you don’t like). I’ll buy you (food you don’t like).” “Actually, they don’t like that. And they don’t like being called that.” The creep jumps away and is standing beside you at that point.

5/10, honestly, some just get scared and leave. There’s the other half though that just kinda scoff and look at you. Before they can even say anything, Jing Yuan grabs them by the shirt and force them to look at him. “Do not speak to them like that. Do not look at them, and don’t even think about them. You leave now or I’ll drag you out myself.”

10/10!!!!!!!!! They are GONE. No sign of them for MILES. Jing Yuan huffs and looks down at you. At this point, everyone’s looking at you two, making you extremely uncomfortable. He’ll stand beside you and pull you close, using that half of his jacket thing to cover you.

“We can leave. I’ll deal with everything else later. Come on.”

Luocha

This man is unpredictable. Sometimes, he’s grabbing your hand to prove your dating, others are just a straight kiss. You don’t mind. Either way, the world knows you two are together.

Luocha doesn’t mind leaving you alone, he’s got confidence in himself and you. That doesn’t mean he’s not there as your backup. Creeps creep on a daily- he’s gotchu. He sees the creep and he’s already walking toward you.

“No!” You exclaimed with a frown, “I'm not interested. Leave me alone.” Luocha didn’t mind scaring the creep off… but it was when they grabbed you that kinda set him off. “Hey.” Is all he says as he grabs their wrist to shove their hand away. 3/10. SOMETIMES people do get scared off by his demeanor. But there’s always that one. Our favorite.

For those guys, he’ll just get physical. There’s just this switch that goes off when it comes to you. 10/10. They’re either gone or out like a light.

“Come, we should go somewhere else.”

Blade

Lol. First of all, people know you’re dating this dude because you’re still alive while hanging off his arm. He’s not affectionate in public other than some sweet words. “You look nice today.” “I think you did well.” Things like that.

Blade can… be a helicopter boyfriend because he just has a 6th sense for creepies. You can be doing your own thing and he’s just standing there. Menacingly. There are days where he’s away from you, but he keeps a sharp eye on you. Then he notices the creep.

“Go away.” You say with a huff as you turn away. “Stop!” You yell, trying to pull your hand away. Suddenly, the creep is silent and frozen. You probably know exactly what happened.

You feel your arm come loose and look behind you to see Blade pointing… well his blade at the creep. He doesn’t say anything and the creep can’t help but just feel the icy fear in their veins. 10/10, Blade doesn’t fail.

“Thank you.” You say with a sigh as you run and hug his arm, looking up at him. Blade sighs and looks down at you, feeling that relief in his chest knowing that you’re fine and right beside him where you should be.

“It’s because you look cute today. Let’s go somewhere else.”

[mamayan]

YANDERE! FEITAN PORTER X DARLING!

TOUCH

⚠️ This is a work of fiction with content I do not condone in reality. This is not meant to encourage or represent any type or sort of conduct. This is merely just fantasy ⚠️

MDNI•18+

Trigger warnings!

This work contains: Yandere content/intentions•NSFW•Kidnapping•Holding against will (darling)•Cursing•Mentions of abuse/torture•Stockholm Syndrome•General depravity•Obsessive tendencies•Sexual acts (consensual but darling is psychologically not sound of mind to be consenting, so somewhat dubcon)•Oral•fem darling•Somnophilia

You have been properly warned and notified of what this work contains. If anything above offends or triggers you, please do not continue reading. Don’t make me waste my time writing all this out only for someone to read and get offended when all the warning literally tell them what is in this. You reading this confirms you are 18+ years of age, meaning a consenting adult agreeing to proceed and consume this content, do not come after me or report me because you aren’t capable of managing yourself.

I appreciate support and love from anyone viewing and enjoying my content. Thank you♥️ I freakin’ love this 1999 anime artwork of Feitan!

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡. .｡.:*

Time suddenly seemed to become irrelevant.

The days passed in a mundane blur, and at some point, everything seemed worthless.

He mentioned in passing that it was November now, though you’d stopped asking the date a few months after your imprisonment. You stopped talking nearly all together these last few months. You couldn’t be entirely sure the last you’d spoken more than a word or two in response to his questions. His own speech minimal, though occasionally you’d catch a glimpse of his chattier side. Even that still couldn’t be considered talkative, more of a normal amount of speech when in a conversation. You haven’t seen that in a while either, maybe it disappeared when you’d stopped your own blubbering and whining. You didn’t ask questions at all anymore. It was pointless and had little meaning.

He sat in his usual spot.

Perched in the corner of the room, eyes sharply trained on your form as always.

His eyes used to unnerve you, riddle you with anxiety and fear of what he was planning. What he might do. What he will do.

It mattered hardly at all at this point.

You’d senselessly begged once, for it all to stop and for him to just kill you already. That’s what he must’ve had planned in the end, for what else did he want with you? An object to admire?

It seemed mad in it’s own way, that thought. Your questions of something or anything personal went unanswered and occasionally punished with weeks of isolation. It was better not to pry.

Asking for mercy and a faster death only brought a wrath you didn’t know lay inside him down upon you.

It was the first time he became physical with you, touched you more than was the bare minimum of necessity. He was surprisingly warm. Except his touch at that time was anything but the usual gentleness you now realized he used with you. His unforgiving grip on your face as he dragged you to your knees, the absolute agony of having your jaw fractured. The pain was unbearable, and even now left phantom pains radiating down your body. He’d dragged you out the front door, for the first time in what seemed to be forever.

Outside was duller than your mind remembered.

You’d been thrown into a vehicle and taken somewhere new.

You’d never wished to take back words more than you did that day. He’d dragged you to some sort of… torture facility. Chained you in a corner and left you there for hours on end. Nervous and frightened, you waited and waited. When he did return, it wasn’t alone. Someone you’d never met was dragged in, strapped down to a table.

Feitan had never really demonstrated anything so frightening before. He’d been somewhat volatile and brash, but the sadistic side never revealed itself like it did that day.

A day turned into several, and for nearly a week you were made to watch his sessions as he called them. Where he’d laugh like a maniac as he turned living humans into creatures you pitied more than yourself. He’d wipe their blood on you, smile as you trembled and begged for it to stop.

When he finally heeded your pleas, he asked a question that left you numb.

“Still want to die?”

You didn’t want to die anymore, at least not by his hand. He knew no mercy. He had no grievance tearing someone apart and from the inside out. The events that followed spanned longer than you bothered to keep track of anymore. He brought you back to your “home” where you were kept locked away. You had a bed, blankets and pillows, clothes and food, clean water and hygiene products. You’d never appreciated a bed like you did that first night back before. The softness and warmth you felt made tears roll down your cheeks and you had thanked him for returning you. It was the first genuine gratitude you’d ever shown to him.

You glanced up from the TV running a show you barely processed to catch his gaze. Those grey orbs holding emotion you couldn’t name or had never seen. He was always so still, and his porcelain features gave him the feel of a doll. For a moment, you merely held his gaze, feeling oddly calm and panicked all at once. Why you felt panicked didn’t make sense, nor why you’d feel calm in the presence of what seemed to be the Grim Reaper himself. The only movement he made to acknowledge your attention was a slight quirk to his brow. His usually ignored but always open book in his hand closing. His face mostly covered left you little to go off to how he felt. You’d gotten somewhat good at interpreting even the tiniest hint of emotion from him, but currently with your own frazzled feelings, figuring out his wasn’t working.

Your legs were pulled to your chest, arms wrapped around them as you settled into a protected fleshy ball. The blanket on your shoulders helping ground you slightly.

Only a little.

“What?” His voice was raspy, his own lack of use evident.

It didn’t sound annoyed, though you could just be misinterpreting this entire interaction.

It felt odd to speak, your mouth slightly cottony and dry, but the urge in your chest felt strangely compelled to say his name.

“Fei” You’d judged his voice, but your own was just as bad.

His eyes widened slightly, though aside from somewhat visible surprise, you were in the dark on how he’d feel about a nickname. You’d given your captor a nickname long ago, though never voiced it aloud. Feitan… Fei felt less threatening.

Feitan is darkness and fear. Feitan tore your life away from you, terrorized you, imprisoned and controlled nearly every little aspect of your life down to your very diet. Feitan is the infamous torturer of the Phantom Troupe.

Fei… well, in your own mind, Fei had become a fictional sort of character. Fei was gentle, Fei listened when you spoke or rambled, and in your dreams Fei would touch you. You hadn’t felt much of any contact in so long, and the last time had left a physically and psychologically painful memory behind. In your dreams, Fei would hold you, touch and caress, Fei was quiet but powerful. You knew it wasn’t healthy, but nothing happening to you or around you was healthy. The mental sickness and insanity most certainly was tickling around your mind.

You’d tested boundaries early with Feitan.

Screaming, kicking, fighting, escape attempts, refusal to eat or comply… were all met with isolation and revoking of privileges. Asking for death was met with nightmares and aching pain that still bothered you when it was too cold.

You’d tried manipulation and coercion, neither you excelled in though. Feitan may be quiet, and occasionally his grammar is less than exemplary, but he is no fool. All attempts ended in… nothing. He did absolutely nothing. He was like a stone wall, impenetrable. Even now, you knew nothing of his intentions. Your only guess at this point, as out of place and ridiculous as it may sound, is companionship. He likely saw you as a pet of sorts, like one might “rescue” a cat off the street. The treatment you receive is rather similar too. In his eyes, maybe you were just like a cat to him. A weak kitty he plucked off the cold streets and gave a warm home. It used to be a thought which invoked fury, but now…

You wished he’d commit to all acts of a pet owner. This included giving affection. You craved it. Missed it. Needed it. Something. A weird and warbled voice in your mind said you’d even accept the negative attention if it meant he’d put his hands on you again. It’s a suicidal thought, but even as his gaze narrowed, you couldn’t stop your body.

He’s silent as always, as you uncurl from your position you’d taken as your usual way to cope. Holding yourself helped, but it’s be better if someone else did it. He didn’t make any indication your nickname offended him.

Shaking, you stood on weak legs and began a pursuit of something you’d never thought you’d even entertain. He was across the room, and while he was by no means a big man, his presence could be suffocating when up close. Gracelessly and with little tact in your actions, you approached until you could smell him. He always smelled like mint and something metallic. For once, the thought of the underlying scent being blood didn’t bother you. He smelled nice, and while his entire body language was closed off and reserved, he still hadn’t even twitched.

He just kept observing you.

Even as you sank down to your knees in front of where he sat.

Those sharp eyes followed you the entire way. When the realization of what you wanted to do came, you weren’t bombarded with the expected humiliation or shame. There wasn’t guilt or disgust like you used to feel when these feelings would arise.

Maybe it signaled you were too far gone to save anymore.

“Fei” his name left your lips again, and for the first time, his rapt attention felt good. It felt good to have him so focused on you. You watched as his head tilted slightly, his face hidden but you could somewhat fantasize about a soft smile playing on his lips behind the fabric of his collar. His favorite jacket always a staple in his clothing collection.

“What?” The way he asked proved he wasn’t revolted at your proximity. He didn’t seem to be asking what you were doing, but rather why you called his name.

“Touch me?” Though you’d phrased it like a question, it bordered precariously on being a demand. You probably looked ridiculous, kneeling at his feet and staring up at him like a sick puppy looking for even the smallest amount of attention. You should be avoiding him, trying to get away, doing anything but this. The only thing you felt though was fear of rejection. That he’d cackle like he does on the phone occasionally, with someone named Shalnark or Phinks, or like he did when he removed the hands of an artist and found humor in the irony. He didn’t answer immediately like he normally would with a direct question. This couldn’t possibly be considered a personal question that he enjoys avoiding, it has only to do with you.

“Please…” you sounded pathetic, even to yourself. The way your bottom lip pouted out and wobbled, the way your eyes watered a little as if you’d cry at any moment, the way you trembled. You didn’t want to grab onto his pant leg, still mindful that a kick from him could easily be your undoing. You’d have to wait till given permission. A pet is what he wants, right?

You could finally be hitting that special point of breaking.

This could be another delusion you’d conjured up and you’re moments away from a lot of pain or isolation again. It’s impossible to tell. No power rested in your hands, and that small realization had tears rolling down your cheeks as you looked at the man who’d reduced you to this mess.

Begging him for measly scraps of what should be your right. Humans needed the physical contact for their health, and while he was clearly the devil, you needed it. Needed him. Needed anything.

“Fei please… I’ll be good, whatever you want, please… I need- hck!” Your sobs were cut short as your body moved faster than your mind could process. You’d nearly bitten into your tongue as you choked for breath, unable to fully comprehend exactly what happened.

The leggings and sweater you wore weren’t warm at all to you. Even blankets seemed to have a chill that seeped through them. Right now though, warmth was creeping through your clothes as mint and copper flooded your senses. He’d pulled you into his lap. The realization was shocking, but the next thought was thrown away when thin strong arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you into his chest.

“Oh” words died on your lips as a sensation you couldn’t name overcame you. You’d never realized how stiff you were until your body began to relax. Fully relax. “Oh…” it came out breathy and nearly excited, as you foolishly wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face in the crook of it.

This was insanity.

He was all muscle unsurprisingly, but it didn’t deter you from trying to mold yourself to him. Your much softer figure held in his arms so gently it made a new wave of tears threaten to spill for all new reasons. You straddled him, front flush against his own, as you struggled to accept that you were being held right now.

“This?” His voice so close to your ear had a strange tingling sensation move from your neck down your spine. The shiver didn’t go unnoticed, as his hold tightened and pressed you further against him. It wasn’t necessarily the most pleasant way to be held, but it was many times better than nothing. You nodded against him, mumbling out a soft good as you basked in a moment of joy you hadn’t experienced in what seemed like forever. It felt good to be held.

It felt even better when his hand moved and brushed through your hair. His touch light and careful, and you could imagine how he was noting every little detail of your reactions. The shivers and little sighs you released as he continued to just pet, touch, and hold you.

For once, you dreaded him stopping.

Even as your eyes grew heavy and body went limp in his arms, you dreaded when this would end. If you could just figure a way to keep him like this, you could envision your life being bearable.

“Fei” you didn’t make any effort to move.

“Hmm” his chest vibrated a little with his hum.

“Can I sleep with you?” It didn’t take a genius to realize your question caused him to tense. His muscles tightening up and panic seeping into your system as you worry this took it too far. You both slept separately unless absolutely necessary, something you used to be grateful for and now hated. It was always freezing when you slept, no matter how warm it actually was.

You might’ve ruined his grace, overstepped if anything, but you needed to stay close to him physically. It wasn’t a want anymore but a necessity.

“Yes” his word both shocked and elated you, and with a few more gentle pats in his arms, you were asleep.

Your cunt throbbed and ached, your lower belly pulled tight inside like a string about to snap. You tried closing your legs, whining as the hot wet sensation continued despite the light struggle you began to put up. It felt good, whatever dream you were having, even as the scent of mint and soap surrounded you.

Small whimpers and gasps became heavy panting as you felt raw heavy pleasure blossom in your core. Something prodded your entrance, wiggling bit by bit till you were penetrated and stretched on something long and hard. It moved and rubbed inside you. The warm pressure on your clit only pulling you further.

It was heaven, even as a slight burn inside had you back to whining and arching your back as your cunt stretched to allow something else inside. Fingers?

The thought was gone as the pleasure radiated throughout your whole body.

It wouldn’t be the first wet dream you’d had, but it was the most realistic. The hot breath on your sensitive clit and twitching insides felt real, and the pleasure was so crisp. Your hands curled into the sheets, struggling between sleep and the impending orgasm threatening to take you.

Your eyes popped open as you came, body twisting as a sharp moan punctuated the air.

You were awake and finally realizing this wasn’t a delusion or dream. Someone was lapping at your cunt, your thighs held open and pinned by two pale hands. The sensitivity and slight bewilderment of the situation had you struggling to form a coherent thought.

“Fei-Feitan…?” If there was one thing you knew with perfect certainty, it was that he’d never leave you alone long enough for someone to find you and do this. It couldn’t be anyone else. Though the fact he was doing this was even more incomprehensible. He seemed so disgusted by touch, so detached from human emotions, it really never occurred to you that he’d have normal human urges. He was still lapping at your cunt, even as your eyes locked with his own, even darker in the barely lit room you realized was his own. You were in his bed, with his head buried between your legs, and his eyes locked on you.

“Fei!” A weaker orgasm than the first was torn from you as you came again, sensitivity skyrocketing when he still continued to lick and suck on your clit. The room was spinning slightly, and your naked body began to cool a little as you sweat. He’d stripped you. He must’ve, but things weren’t really connecting in your mind as white hot pleasure was turning mildly painful.

“Too much!” You gasped and you had to force your hands to stay tangled in the sheet to not touch him. Your eyes watered and you made a pitiful sight with your darkening cheeks and open panting mouth. As your back arched to avoid his mouth, a sharp slap to your outer thigh had you yelping in pain.

His eyes narrowed, and it wasn’t hard to see he became annoyed with your squirming.

“Shut up.” His tone was low, no room for arguing or protest as you bit your lip to do as you were told. Trembling under him as he raised up to stare down at you between your spread legs. He looked gorgeous, something you hated to admit. His dark hair mildly tussled and pale skin a little flushed, his signature jacket gone. This wasn’t the first you’d seen his naked chest, but it was certainly a rare occasion. His pants were still on but unbuttoned. His lips were the most sinful aspect, still glossy from your release. It was agonizing to be silent.

You should cry and beg for him to stop.

Instead you found your legs spreading just a bit wider as you looked up at him like he was your personal deity.

Debauched.

His slow and condescending smirk only made your breathing harder, chest tightening with anticipation and lust. He snorted, hand moving to spread your cunt open as he spit on it. You were panting now, barely following his order to stay quiet. It was difficult when you wanted to beg, for more, for him, to be touched.

“This what you wanted? Whore.” His crude words didn’t make this any less arousing, especially as he unzipped his pants and pulled his cock free. He was larger than you’d have ever expected, though it hardly mattered as he lined himself up and began pushing into your unused hole. Despite the wetness and prep, it was slightly painful as he filled you. The heaviness inside coupled with the burn was delicious as your hips moved to take more of him, deeper. You couldn’t help the moan, the way your body shook and hands finally moved to touch him.

He was fast in securing both your wrists in one hand to pin above your head, his hips finally kissing the back of your thighs. You felt him twitch inside you, and it drove you wild.

“Please Fei, oh-!” His hand came down on your thigh again, before he pulled his hips back and slammed into you. Your head goes back as you arch into him and moan louder, as he begins a brutal pace that has your chest moving in rhythm with his thrusts. His tip kissing your cervix has you unwinding into a submissive mess of whining and pleas. You didn’t even know what you were begging for.

You either annoyed or aroused him further when he sneered and used his free hand to grip your jaw, thankfully not roughly as it ached nonetheless, forcing you to open wide before spitting into your mouth. He laughed when you clenched down harder, feeling the coil in your stomach tightening again as the pleasure increased.

“Pretty slut likes being my bitch.” He hardly seemed out of breath despite how hard you were panting. You felt a bit unfair at how unfazed he seemed, but similarly proud at how he gazed down at you. Like you made him pleased. His gaze wasn’t sharp, even bordering on warm despite how roughly he was fucking into you. All you could do was moan his name and beg.

Like a good little pet.

You could feel your orgasm coming again, and you’d meant to tell him, but his lips against yours shocked you silly. You didn’t even bother closing your mouth, Feitan easily slipping his tongue inside and kissing you so sensually it had you coming on his cock. You could only whine into his mouth as his speed picked up and you became overwhelmed.

He pulled away as a string of saliva connected you two for a moment before breaking. He licked his lips before focusing on where the two of you were joined. Watching his cock disappear in your sopping wet little cunt. It was filthy and erotic.

“Pathetic” his words were cruel but he looked beyond pleased as he looked at your fucked out expression. Unable to even form words as he continued to bully your poor pussy. It was laughable to him, how sweet you are now, how obedient and submissive you’ve finally become. All that fight and control gone, and in its place you lay now.

He’d never tell you out loud how perfect you are. How absolutely precious he finds your attempts to run away from all the pleasure he’s giving you.

His training has been worth while, making you everything he wants and more. Though he’d hated the power you held over him, having you now, moaning as he drills your cunt and begging for more, takes away the shame. You were his weren’t you? Then anything he wanted to do was fine, it wasn’t shameful to fuck his toy. Especially when she whined and arched her back up to take him in even deeper, when she cried and came again around him.

Feitan saw you as much more than a measly pet. Those were replaceable. No, you were just his, whatever he wants you to be, but still his. That’s why when he wraps his hand around your pretty neck and squeezes, he’s beyond thrilled at how you relax. You throw caution to the wind and give him everything. He’s not cutting off oxygen, but enough blood flow and air to keep you light headed and disoriented.

“Who do you belong to?” He knows you can hardly tell up from down right now. He knows how good he’s fucking you. Reducing you to this beautiful mess of feeling only. He’s still him though, and it brings him only pleasure to add in another few painful smacks to your bruising thighs. “Answer slut” he asks again, being thrown for a power trip as you choke out, “You!” to him.

His balls tightening signal he’s close, and the thought alone is enough to amuse him.

“Going to cum inside.” His words don’t register immediately to you, he can tell, but it seems all reality isn’t gone from you when your eyes widen.

“I-I- pregnant! I’ll get-“ he cuts you off with a chuckle, hand squeezing your throat enough to shut you up as he savors the sounds of wet squelching echoing in tune with his thrusts.

“My personal cock sleeve doesn’t get to talk.” The struggle you put up is worthless, but entertaining as he really does cum inside you, a soft grunt his only indication of release and overwhelming pleasure. Emptying himself inside and filling you with him. Marking you, painting you inside, signally you belong to him in every way now.

You lay exhausted and sore in his bed, cold as the various liquids dry on your skin and Feitan leaves.

Where he goes it doesn’t matter. You let yourself lay for a little longer before deciding it’s best not to anger him by staying in his space. You move to sit up, wincing as your intimate areas ache, but pushing forward nonetheless to get cleaned up and change his sheets and any mess left behind.

You hate the hollow ache in your chest the most. You look at your thighs to see his cum leaking out of you, and a sliver of dread echoes in your mind that you truly could become pregnant. The possibilities too much for you to handle right now, as you shakily slide off the bed to stand on wobbly legs. He could be back any moment, and it’s best you get to work early. You work on removing the sheets, just as the bedroom door opens to reveal a fresh Feitan, his signature jacket in place as he holds a glass of water.

“What are you doing?” His question is asked in a slightly lower tone that usual, and you quickly freeze in place.

“I-I’m cleaning up…?” You don’t mean to sound hesitant, but this situation is new and will require months of careful inquisition to avoid punishment under his hand. You knew better than to continue any task without his go ahead though.

You stand in silence as he observes you with a scrutinizing gaze.

“Come here” his order is curt, and while it terrifies you, you are quick to stumble over to him despite still being naked and filthy. You hate how badly you must look, barely able to walk while he is up and about his usual day as if nothing even happened. To him maybe nothing did happen, this being just the same as making a sandwich, and you wished the thought didn’t hurt. Maybe this would just be a new pain to live with, and the sooner you accepted that, the better your pathetic existence would be.

You stand just before him, fingers twisting around each other as you stay with your head bowed to stare at his feet while you concentrated on staying upright despite how difficult it felt for your hips and legs to support you.

“Not hard enough?” His words confused you, as you peaked up beneath your lashes to look at him curiously.

“I-I don’t understand…”

“Didn’t fuck you hard enough?” You froze in shock and slight fear, because what did that mean? He fucked you too hard in your personal opinion, and your poor slit agreed.

“Y-you did though…?” You were unsure of what was happening, his gaze not giving anything away.

“Get back on the bed. I didn’t say I was done with you.” Your eyes widened, taking a moment too long to register what he said before his foot took a step closer to you and you scrambled back onto the sheet-less bed in a panic. He paused, observing you again, before tilting his head.

“Next time I’m done with you, don’t move” he’s undoing his pants again, and moving towards you.

“I’ll fuck you good this time.” His words menacing and mean, and you’re left with little wiggle room as he closes in.

It’s his job after all to clean you up and piece you back together, and if you can fix yourself when he’s done, he clearly didn’t a good job the first round.

[dreamauri]

ok so i saw your sub!lando post and for some reason the only thing i can think abt is if the roles were reversed??? j a clingy and cuddly reader (i love the fact that she’s gonna be clingy when lan’s streaming) and dom!lando cause brainrot 🤧 ok bye ilysmsmsmsmsmsm (please don’t feel pressured to write this if you don’t wanna!!)

♪ — 𝗬𝗢𝗨'𝗥𝗘 𝗦𝗨𝗖𝗛 𝗔 𝗚𝗢𝗢𝗗 𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟 lando norris  x  girlfriend! reader (smut) “. . . being clingy and teasing can lead up to something.”

( my master list | more of lando norris ) ( requests | taglist )

You snuggled further into Lando's chest as he gently stroked your hair. You were finally in pyjamas, sitting on your boyfriend's lap as he played games with his friends on stream. and you watched quietly. You didn't want to disturb them. but you didn't want to be away from Lando either.

You didn't need him giving all his attention to you. Leaning your side to his chest with the occasional kiss and affectionate touches was enough. You were feeling tired and sleepy anyways and you felt like you'd doze off any moment now.

"Well—" Lando cut himself off with a yawn. "The puppy that has claimed my lap as her own personal property and real estate has a very contagious desire for sleep." And with that he signed off the live stream, pulling you to straddling his lap. Your first instinct was to nuzzle in his neck, pressing soft kisses against his nicely tanned and warm skin.

"What are you doing?" He sucked in a breath feeling you wiggle on the spot. "Getting comfy." You chuckled, tone holding a slight tease as you leaned up to connect your lips with his. It was a sweet and soft kiss. Until you felt the brit thrust his hips up slightly. A small tiny moan left your mouth. And that was all it took to trigger Lando.

The kisses weren't short and soft, but longer and more passionate. You even struggled to try and keep up with Lando, the hungry pace he was going with was too fast for you. "Lan." You tried to stop him when you felt his hands trail up your thighs and under your shirt.

A yelp sounded as he lifted you up, carrying you all the way to his room and his bed. He was too quick to pull your clothes and half of his own, too desperate to feel your skin on his. "Stop." You giggled feeling ticklish as he pressed kisses to your tummy and hips.

"What?" Helooked up at you with clear concern. He thought he hurt you, but thankfully not. "I'm not having sex with that." you motioned to his facial hair that he was growing. "What, you don't like it?" He crawled up, leaning his forearms on either side of your head. "No. It tickles. And I wanna have sex, not laugh." You argued trying to hold in your smile while looking Lando deep in his eyes. You watched him as he stroked his chin proudly, going back down to where you needed him most.

"Lando no," You laugh, pushing his head away as he tries to catch your clit on his lips. "Hey—" The brit scolded you, pushing your hand away. "Let me work." You laughed at the statement, ready to mock him when a moan broke from your throat. “I take my job very seriously, thank you very much.”

"Fuck— ok ok, I'm sorry." You went to push his head away, feeling him lap and nibble on your bud. The brit made sure to hold your wrist, stopping you from sabotaging him in any way. "Lando-" "Be a good girl." His muffled voice was stern as he held your thigh, gently stroking his thumb against your skin to at least comfort you as he tongue fucked you.

His nose and little moustache were doing your clit no justice. And Lando knew it. He watched you squirm and moan his name, a jolt running up your spine every time he nudged you. “You’ll be good?” You nodded quickly, trying to hold his hand at least. But he held your other wrist too, confining you completely under his mercy.

“Can’t hear you, my love.” “I’ll be good. I’ll be super good.” You nodded, starting to heave as you felt the coil in your stomach tighten. “You’ll be a good girl?” “I’ll be a good girl, a very good girl. T—the best girl.” You promised, squirming each time you felt him intentionally drag his tongue on the spot that made you see stars.

“I’ll take your word on that.” He hummed, letting go of your wrists, concentrating on your sensitive bud since he knew you were more prone to a quick orgasm from there. Your fingers were quick to tangle in his hair, not really pulling. But since his hands were too busy trying to take off his pants, the soft curls would do for now. 

“Lando, no.” You whined, leaning up on your elbow to look at him. You were almost there, seconds from a climax that would’ve left scratch marks on Lando’s shoulder. Your eyes were teary and your chest was heaving. You got up shakily, helping him pull his pants down. A gulp went down your throat seeing the size of him, hesitantly pulling his boxer shorts down as well.

“Go on.” Lando leaned back on his elbows, waiting for you to settle between his legs. “But it was my turn.” You looked up at him, begging slightly. You need him, you couldn’t wait any longer. You crawled up, sitting on his lap, a desperate look on your face as you looked between his sky coloured eyes. Lando looked at you, a smirk on his lips as he pretended to be thinking. “I’ve been a good girl.” You begged again, kissing him gently yet passionately. “Please please please.” 

Lan tilted his head, smiled even wider, glancing down at his dick then you.  No words or explanation was needed. You knew what he was asking you and you weren’t going to deny him. Your mind was too foggy and if it took giving him an orgasm first to receive your own, then so be it. You shifted your body between his bent knees, getting comfortable as you took his length in your mouth inch by inch. The noises he made were not helping with your situation at all. Lando’s eyes grew heavier, he was determined to watch himself disappear in your mouth and reappear, again and again. 

And for the next few minutes, you picked up the pace. You even added tongue which you knew would speed up the process. But apparently not. You were suspecting he was holding back on purpose. His moans and grunts were loud, and with the occasional shift or thrust you’d think he’s on the edge. But he can’t be on the verge of an orgasm for 5 minutes straight. Looking up at him, his face was scrunched up and jaw tense, breathing through his teeth. 

“Okay, okay! Enough! Enough. I’m dying.” He gave up, gently cupping under your chin and pulling you up forcefully. Your eyes were wide as you looked at what was just in your mouth. Lando slumped back on his back, breathing heavily. “I came like 7 times, Y/N.” He scolded tiredly, body practically shaking on the spot. You crawled up to him, looking at him confused. Nothing was in your mouth, you were pretty sure. Did he cum dry? You didn’t say anything, you instead gently pressed kisses to his jaw and neck. Once you lay beside him, you let Lando recover, watching his breath even out. He opened his eyes looking at you. “Sorry.” You whisper. “You should be sorry, how am I going to compete with that?” The two of you giggled softly, sharing soft kisses.

With a deep breath, Lando sat up, sitting with his back against the wall, patting his lap for you. You got on with no hesitation of course. Wrapping your arms around his neck as you slowly sunk on his length. “Awh, that's a good girl.” Lando’s praises went straight into you, a moan echoing in your throat as he connected his lips with yours.

The thrusts started shortly, gaining speed within a certain pace. You even switched positions a couple of times; on your side and back to prone, which was a little more frustrating because he was pressing all of his weight into you. You were too out of it to even unhook your heels from around his abdomen.

“You’re so fucking tight, Y/N. You’re such a good girl.” Lando huffed, arms wrapped around you as you messily made out. He eventually slipped, accidentally falling on you. All his weight now on and inside you. That was all it took for your body to rock from an intense orgasm, helpless moans and whimpers following suit. “Fuck, baby. I’m sorry.” he kissed your jaw gently, but you were practically putty, head rolling on your side as he pressed kisses, fucking you through your high.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“One, two, three.” Lando pulled out quickly, a pained moan slipping from your mouth. Your walls were too sensitive, even the action of Lando just whipping you clean felt overwhelming. 

That feeling was quickly over though and you were thankfully just left with your boyfriend and yourself, cuddling under the fuzzy sheets of his bed, deciding on whether you should get pizza, chinese, or just to call max and make him cook for you since both of your legs were very much not working. 

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Look at these two idiots.” Max Fewtrell sighed deeply as he stood in your kitchen, pointing at your practically passed out figures to the camera that was leaned near the stove so he could cook and talk at the same time. You were splayed out on the counter in Lando's merch hoodies and shorts and Lando was on the floor only in his fluffy pyjama pants. 

“Disgusting.” He shook his head as the two of you waved at the camera. 

“I had to buy ear plugs when you and Lando were still roomies. I couldn’t stay over and sleep peacefully with how-” “Y/N!” Max cut you off looking at you shocked and panicked. Lando was laughing his ass of the floor while you gave Max innocent puppy smile.

"I hate you guys. Making me do forced, unpaid, treacherous labour." "treacherous?" " don’t know, sounds like a long scary word." 

"Chat is cursing at you, Lando." "They hate me because they aint me. They wish they had my ass." "Lando you don't have an ass." "EXCUSE ME?!" "He’s right, Lan." "DONT SIDE WITH HIM Y/N."

[dollcherray]

Can we have some yandere Edward x Reader please???

୨୧ SERIOUSLY !? ✮⋆˙

YANDERE EDWARD X READER

A/N: alright, gonna give yall freedom now and ill be more flexible when writing for yanderes, but please none of the things i mentioned in the last yandere limits post. (this one) (tw warning)

Type: Headcanons, romantic, fluff

TW: Bullying mentions, yandere topics, basically Edward forces friendship with you near the end? ig thats how we call it? obsession, delusion, he has toxic jealousy.

୨୧ Edward would be a very chaotic yandere, to the point of simply jumping on you or picking you up randomnly, mostly making you get scared and/or screech almost everytime he does that, it really pisses you off, but he doesnt mind.

୨୧ Edward would be a very two faced yandere too, while hes treating you like royalty when you are with him, hes being his normal asshole behavior with others, throwing paper balls at them and etc, typical Edward behavior.

୨୧ I think you two would get acquainted only in two ways: either with you just being as chaotic and eletric as Edward or it was love at first sight, either way, he is really going to be obsessed with you.

୨୧ Edward is possessive, delusional, chaotic, clingy and obsessive, to an very unhealthy extent, like, if someone else mention you in a casual conversation with him, he would not stop talking about you and how perfect you are, how your smile is just- glamorous and stupidly perfect!

୨୧ He would not let the trio bully you, if they dare to make fun of you or tease a little bit, this boy would get into a fight with them for you, his love for you can easily make him act in a way really unexpected from him.

୨୧ God have mercy on the soul that has a crush on you or a crush that you have that is showing signs of reciprocal love for you, because if he finds out, they are fucked, Edward would straight up bully them, and its going to be alot, He'll say lines like, "Do you really think you're good enough for them? or even worthy of their love? you actually think they'll ever love you? be for real."

୨୧ Edward would be similar to Miss Bloomie is some areas, like clinging to you almost all the time or following you like a lost puppy, you'll have to genuinely have to ask him to stop or else he will follow you to the bathroom too.

୨୧ If you actually try to leave him, he would be asking alot of questions and demanding full explanations and wouldnt leave you alone until you give him an explanation of why your doing this, he thought you liked him!

୨୧ i think Edward would be straight off be keeping you with him, he would basically just ignore that you were trying to leave him and act like nothing happened, that you were just being a silly willy.

୨୧ He's lowkey obsessed and lovesick for you, he would be the type to do dumb things or try to do incredible things to impress you or have your attention, he would be a very silly goof yandere.

୨୧ But dont get fooled, this boy would go out of his way to hurt mentally or physically if someone tries to take you away from him, he wont let that happen, not on his watch.

୨୧ His jealousy is very toxic, he would be glaring daggers into the person and straight up talk shit about them to you, he would either act delusional if you question his speeches and actions towards the person or get mad that your "defending" them.

୨୧ He cant stand whenever you interact so intimately with another person, like hugging them or just playing around with them, it should be him not them, they dont deserve it, they dont deserve you.

୨୧ "Cmon babe, you didnt really mean to leave me! i just know that!"

[peachhcs]

good thing it was a rainy day

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

summary: part to 2 to rainy day at the lake house where some pent up sexual tension escalates between samy and will after being forced to stay away from one another due to everyone's obnoxious teasing

2k words

warnings: 18+, SMUT, this is literally like all smut, sub!will, sub!reader, switch, oral (m receiving), p in v (protected!!), riding, making out, hair pulling, slight praising, hickeys, consensual!, getting caught at the end

soooo here’s part 2!!! this is very explicit so read at your own risk! (warning u now before u hit read more lmao) publishing things like this genuinely scares me bc i know people can write so much better smut and i've never published smut before 🫣 but hope y’all like it?? idk i’m not the best at writing sex but like yeah! (p.s. pic 1 and pic 3 are from tumblr) (p.s.s. working on my requests rn too!!)

au masterlist | part 1

will's hands glided across samy's back as they deepened their kiss. the boy desperately tried ignoring what was going on down in his pants because if he focused too hard on it, he'd for sure cum before anything really happened. the brunette wasn't making it easy either. she bit and tugged on will's bottom lip like her life depended on it and the little tugs at the root of his curls had him losing it fast. samy's little comment from a few minutes ago had will trying to keep his sounds in—one, because he didn't want to get caught and two, he was trying to prove he wasn't the loud one.

although every time samy grinded her core against his own or kissed particularly hard, will struggled strangling his little whimpers and groans. she definitely wasn't making his easy for him.

the girl's hand started wandering lower again. she moved slowly and calculated like she was intentionally teasing the boy beneath her. will was desperate for her touch and her slow pace was killing him.

"s-samy, please," will's blue eyes met her own where a smirk replaced the gentle smile.

"desperate, huh?" she mused, finally reaching will's waistband again.

"mhm, god—" he couldn't stop the whimper this time. she was so close, yet so far still.

samy grinned. she reveled in those sounds her boyfriend made. he was so tough on the outside, so knowing this was how he got for her was a treat. she finally decided to have some mercy and allowed her hand to make contact with will's bulge. he immediately jerked his hips into her touch, biting his lip so hard he started tasting blood.

"this okay?" samy wondered, always double checking.

"yes, yeah. it's perfect," will breathily got out. she smiled, pushing his curls away from his somewhat sweaty forehead.

for it being so rainy and cool outside, the temperature inside of samy's room was hot.

she palmed will through his shorts for a few more moments before slowly pushing them down. his cock came free in one go, making will hiss at the sudden air against it. samy's eyes widened even though she's seen him multiple times before. each time was always as good as the first—always so red and throbbing for a release.

"so, so pretty, will," samy praised as she carefully took him in her hand. she used his pre as lube, slowly running her hand up and down his length in soft strokes.

"mm, yeah. feels so good," will muttered, head falling back onto the pillow in relief.

the brunette leaned down to leave gentle kisses to will's tip. the small feeling of her mouth on him had will's hips stuttering, trying to keep them under control.

"shit, hughes."

samy pumped him for a bit longer before deciding she was ready to attach her lips to him. his pre was enough lube and by the way he twitched in her hand, she knew he was already close. her pretty lips took him in one go resulting in the most guttural moan from her boyfriend. will's hands gripped onto the sheets, struggling to keep his hips still.

"fuck," he cursed a little too loudly. her lips were like heaven and the feeling was something will tried engraving into his mind forever.

"so good for me, will," samy hummed, meeting his gaze. the boy nearly lost it seeing her like that with his dick in her mouth. he took a mental snapshot, wanting that memory until he died—messy hair, glossed over eyes, hickeys on every inch of her skin—he was so, so fucked.

she picked up her pace, bobbing her head a little faster than before. her hands splayed across will's hips as purchase and leverage to help with the speed.

"i'm close already," will moaned, feeling that coil in his stomach about to snap.

"cum for me, will. it's okay," samy urged and her words were enough to send him over the edge and see stars.

his hips bucked up on their own as he released right into samy's mouth. "oh fuck. shit," he got out.

his chest heaved in deep pants in attempt to get his breathing back under control while samy just grinned. "d-did you swallow all of it?" the boy wondered, dragging his hand back up her thigh.

the brunette stuck her tongue out to show that there was nothing left. will groaned and that sight was enough to keep his dick hard. his other hand tugged samy back down to his mouth, kissing her particularly hard being no where near finished with her yet.

"god, you're so pretty," the boy muttered against her lips earning a small blush across samy's cheeks.

his hands tugged at her waistband as an indication that he wanted her shorts off. samy kicked them down her legs being left in her swimsuit bottoms that left little to the imagination. will's hand wandered across the exposed skin and took handfuls of her ass. he moaned at the feeling of her flesh in his hands while samy kissed him deeper.

the hockey player flipped them over so he now had the upper hand. a smirk lined his lips while he let his hand wander further down to her own waistband again. samy read the look in his eye, a smile crossing her lips as she tugged her boyfriend down for more kisses.

will took that opportunity to push her swimsuit aside and slowly slide one of his fingers into her warm walls. his action had a loud moan escaping samy's lips which brought a grin to his lips.

"fuck, will," samy's eyes closed, nails digging into his arms.

"this okay?" the boy breathed against her neck.

"mhm, more than okay," the brunette's own whimpers started escaping her lips as will's finger picked up speed before deciding to add a second one. he smirked to himself—who was the loud one now?

will found a good pace while peppering more light hickeys across his girlfriend's chest. they were for sure never going to hear the end of it from anyone after this. the sounds she made had the boy going crazy—all of it going straight to his now throbbing cock. every time samy's mouth opened will twitched, desperately searching for his second orgasm.

"need you so bad, pretty girl," he breathed into her ear earning another delicious moan in response.

"me too. need you inside me, will," samy's voice broke. she really couldn't look more gorgeous to will. her tear stained cheeks and kiss swollen lips made the boy go completely numb.

he slowly pulled his fingers out while samy dug through her nightstand for a condom. will's gaze fixated on her as she tore the wrapper open with her teeth and carefully rolled it on him. his hips jerked at her touch, a low chuckle escaping his lips between the breathy pants.

he grabbed ahold of samy's face, both of them falling back onto the bed again as he devoured her lips once more. in the next second, samy straddled will's hips.

"i'm so in love with you," will mumbled between kisses.

"so, so in love with you. so handsome," the girl replied.

she began lining will up with her entrance. as soon as the tip was in, each of them let out probably the loudest moans ever that would definitely let everyone else in the house know what they were up to. will's grasp on her hips became bruising while sang tugged harshly on his curls.

the further down samy went, the harder it was for will to keep his hips still. he used whatever self-control he had left to stay still as he bottomed out. the two were so desperate for one another they nearly came immediately.

"oh my god— fuck," a broken moan escaped will's lips as his eyes squeezed shut.

"you can move," samy urged. her walls stretched themselves out around the hockey player's thick cock—the feeling making her head spin.

"fuck, i can't. not yet. gonna fucking cum if i move," will panted, desperately trying to think of unsexy things so he wouldn't blow his load in the first five seconds.

after another few seconds, will found it in himself to start moving. he slowly bucked his hips up, hands digging into samy's flesh that would for sure leave marks. the brunette met his thrusts with a roll of her hips. the two began finding a good pace and samy's grinding turned into bouncing.

"yeah, fuck. so good for me will," the girl's head tipped back exposing all of the hickeys under her jaw and down her throat.

will felt his cock throb at the sight knowing he left all of those and they'd be impossible to hide.

"so fucking hot. shit hughes," the blonde moaned out. his hands went back to her ass—her bouncing turning his brain to mush.

it didn't take long for the bouncing to become too much for the hockey player. that feeling in his stomach returned and samy knew will was closed with how his cock twitched inside of her. she used her hands pressed against his chest as leverage to bounce faster and making sure her cleavage was on full display to try and get will to his orgasm.

"close will?" the girl wondered.

"mhm, so close—fuck—gonna make me cum," the boy got out in broken pants, eyes clued to her chest on full display for him.

samy smirked, working herself faster and ignoring the burn in her thighs form all the work she was doing. the sounds will let out was enough to push her to her own orgasm. she moaned out as she clenched around his length, riding out her high.

"cum for me will," she urged. her words and orgasm was enough to push the boy to his second orgasm.

he spilled into the condom with a string of curse words and samy's name leaving his lips while he held her down against him, riding out his own high.

"god, fuck. came so fucking hard," will panted once he regained some of his breath.

samy grinned, pushing his curls away from his sweaty forehead, both of their skins were glowing with moisture as the room filled with sex.

"did so good for me," the girl praised which had will's cheeks flushing.

"i love you so much," he mumbled and samy leaned down to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

suddenly, there was a rough knock on the door that had both of them tensing. the two exchanged a glance, waiting for someone to say something on the other side.

"just so you know, eth and i heard all of that. you guys are disgusting. you're so glad you don't have a room next to mom and dad," luke's voice came through while they could hear ethan's little snickers.

"fuck off," samy called back to her brother while will's cheeks turned a deep crimson. he'd never be able to look luke in the eyes for the rest of the summer.

"i gotta appreciate it though. will's got hella game," ethan spoke now and they could hear luke slap his friend on the arm for that comment.

"next time y'all need to get off take a drive somewhere," luke said before him and ethan walked away.

bonus:

will's eyes were glued to samy as she dragged him through the kitchen. they had smiles on their faces and the same look in their eyes while the girl searched for her car keys in the mess of everyone else's.

the boy's lips were already nipped at her neck as they stumbled their way to the garage. her hickeys from a few weeks ago hadn't even faded yet, but will was determined to add more.

as the two made it through the kitchen, they caught luke's gaze where he sat at the table eating some throw together peanut butter and jelly sandwich, his eyes widened when he saw samy's car keys, the look in their eyes, and will's slight bulge down in his shorts already.

"you fucking whores!" the middle hughes yelled, dropping his sandwich in disgust.

suddenly, he wasn't hungry anymore nor will he be anytime soon.

[sshadowritestoriess]

Hey! Do you think you could write some NSFW headcanons for Widow, Mercy, Kiriko, Lifeweaver and Genji (gender neutral afab reader) please? Feel free to ignore if that's too many characters or if you just don't want to do it. Have a great day, and don't forget to drink water dear author!

Sure! I did my best, sorry they’re all so short. I just didn’t want a super long post 😅

Widowmaker NSFW

She can quite literally take you out in ‘one shot’— you’re not certain how exactly she does it, but she touches you in all the right places in quick succession and finds exactly where you need her most in just an instant. You’ve lasted about thirteen seconds at most with this technique of hers, and it was quickly banned from the bedroom unless you asked for it

She’s a very hard biter, like she doesn’t realize she needs to be a bit more gentle. You often wonder if she thinks she’s actually going to inject venom into your bloodstream this way

Eerily quiet responses toward any pleasure, even if you’re doing everything right she makes it hard to tell if you’re doing anything at all. So she tends to be the one in charge, that way you don’t end up questioning your capabilities or doubting her reactions

A slowed heartbeat seems to increase her stamina, though. It’s only somewhat annoying, especially in addition to her lack of emotion toward intimate times. But you refuse to believe she’s not feeling anything at all, either— otherwise she wouldn’t be stepping on you ‘for fun’ unprompted, or initiating half of these encounters

Mercy NSFW

An unpredictable switch— everything that happens in the bedroom is a flip on a coin based on what she’s feeling and when. You never know if you’re about to give or receive, but either way it’s extremely rewarding and it’s hard to discern any complaints out of a night with Angela

She is pretty vocal, makes the nicest noises and lewd sounds you’ve probably ever heard. She definitely sounds like an angel, and it’s worth every touch to hear her sound off while completely red in the face

Maybe a bit too in love with pegging you. As a doctor and being very knowledgeable about the body, she’s rather enthusiastic toward loosening you up and talking about safety before giving you the ramming of a lifetime. Certain recommended positions even relieved your back pains somewhat, to your astonishment

She highly prefers to schedule these exchanges, rather than doing them on a whim. She refuses the ideas of quickies or anything with risk— especially in communal/public areas. You’d need to absolutely guarantee no one will be walking in or she might not ever forgive you for the embarrassment

Kiriko NSFW

Absolutely a brat, and we all know this. You’re not getting anything done without force or a trade, and she clearly relishes in those methods— always a “no” or a “why”, and then the “what will I get in return?”

Hugely into degrading and she’ll meet you halfway, criticizing your every move as if it doesn’t have her writhing in euphoria. She’s mostly in control of the sounds she makes, but when you get enough of a rise out of her the high-pitched noises are totally worth the struggle to get them in the first place. But she tries really hard to pretend like you don’t have an effect on her

She totally abuses her abilities to make you both finish faster, and especially against your will if you intended to take your time. Everything she does in bed is completely in spite of you— you’re fighting to earn the outcome you want, so hopefully you’re up for that kind of challenge

Her attitude is to make up for her low libido, and especially in her inability to last very long. She’s super sensitive, but she’ll never admit it. You’ll figure this out sooner than later though, and she’ll put up even more of a fight with a smirk on her face before you get anywhere near the brink of relief

Lifeweaver NSFW

Undoubtedly has a preference for being on bottom, but absolutely more than capable of being a top if he’s in the mood for it.

He’s sort of a pillow princess, likes having all the work be done for him. Much more of a receiver than he is a giver, but only in intimate moments— he’s much more giving outside of private moments that heavily lack clothing

But he is extraordinarily talented with his mouth, and he knows this. Yet he won’t offer such services without being asked politely, which must include a ‘please’ or he may remind you of your manners. It’s all in good fun though, he likely wouldn’t have refused either way (please ride his face)

He makes a lot of sounds, though they’re always muffled by his hand or pillow— or you. He also super loves using rope for things, like being restrained, and shibari. He gets more excited when he’s trapped and vulnerable in front of someone he likes

And while he’s a gentle top, he makes sure to return every favor you’ve given him on the occasions he does take over. These sessions last significantly longer than when he’s on the receiving end— edging turns out to be a specialty of his. And along the way, he’s more than happy to remind you of your previously indulgent behaviors

More Genji NSFW

Genji is still Genji, and even under all that metal he’s still pretty full of himself. So he totally, secretly, has a mask kink, and goes a bit feral when you wear his helm along with a lingerie or something else enticing (maybe even his hoodie lol). There’s just something about seeing his own visor on you that makes him want to pounce

I don’t imagine he’s super into wireplay/anything that has to do with his mechanics, but he’s not against it. He’s fine with it enough and appreciates you’d find these parts of him just as attractive, it just doesn’t get him going as much as other things do. He will happily indulge you though.

He’s dangerously easy to arouse. Drop one hint, playful or not (but only after the first few intimate exchanges) and he will find someplace to make it quick. Of course, he’s fluent in consent, so he’ll back off if you really were only joking. But otherwise you may often find yourself getting that super-enhanced-ninja special in the strangest secluded areas

And he makes it his job to make sure you cum before he does. On occasion he slips up, and if you’re competitive like that then it can be pretty 50/50. But he praises himself as a gentleman who treats his lover with the utmost care, and will deliver to you everything he has before taking you for his own pleasure

[ihopeinevergetsoberr]

the counterpart

• chapter 1 — a welcome threatening stir

rating: explicit. please don’t skip straight to (future) smut parts though, i’m currently learning chess just for this fic /hj

word count: 4,5k

pairing: viktor x fem!reader (no use of ‘y/n’)

cw: alcohol, occasional cussing, reader is a smoker (she plays chess and lives in the 90s, how do you expect her to have healthy lungs in these conditions?). a LOT of tension, viktor is a certified brat tamer. i think that’s it — please come yell at me if i missed anything. basically just a silly little chess rivals (sort of) au.

i am finally writing this multichapter and i hope it will be a fun read for you and an excellent torture for me. i have a vision but i don’t know how to make shit perfectly executed. we’ll see how this goes. an ao3 link will be added later. any feedback is highly appreciated.

part 2

⸻

You weren’t obsessed with him. 

With the way his tongue would click against his teeth so astutely irritating — a gesture you grew to define as some brief foreplay before said appendage touched his palate precisely one torturous time, whispering a victorious ‘check’. With a crease dissecting his forehead — a rare occasion you managed to grasp only twice: the first time being your failed attempt to capture his queen, and the second — a recent one, at that — being a foolish way you’ve lost a freshly converted into a rook pawn: concurrently the most humiliating way to jeopardize an intellectual sparring. 

You weren’t obsessed with his bizarre contemplative humming, nor with his Czech last name — needless to mention the disheveled mayhem of dark hair: Viktor was just a mere enigma you fancied to occasionally demerge — sneakily, patiently, with a positive passion to it. Habitually in a private ambiance of either his or your dorm room, though actually more commonly his — something about it simply screamed peace, as contradictory as that sounds. Sweetly quiet, relatively neat, with a never properly made bed being the only truly concerning mess in it.

That apartment was the embodiment of a grandmaster’s mind, and it certainly had all the chances of belonging to one at some point: if only he kept up with the meticulous tactics you were (secretly) so jealous of. 

“Envy is a waste of time,” he unkindly reminded you one particularly languid evening, “you should pursue ways to expand your knowledge — not to contract them with such trivialities.” 

That reproach got into your ambitious head. Call it a reality check or a simple first impression — since that encounter was also the first one you two had ever shared.

Though could someone really blame you? You didn’t need humbling. Well, not any more of that crude one, at the very least — a local college chess club had more than enough of it to offer. You could consume their disdain for weeks and it still wouldn’t make them run out of it — they had plenty in stock specifically for women. That much was obvious the second you appeared before those arrogant, prejudiced fools. You stepped in there innocently hoping to enroll, but stormed off with a genuine intention to commit homicide — a manslaughter, to be precise, and god weren’t you going to be merciful. 

‘You can’t enroll without a rating,’ hissed that bespectacled, caricaturely tall boy — all heavily starched collar, stupid chequered tie and a handful of dirty blonde hair plastered across his forehead. 

Bullshit, you thought, gathering every last ounce of your forced politeness, who needs a rating to enroll into a college fucking chess club? 

‘We don’t accept amateurs,’ assented his not any less grimy interlocutor, his expression a tad bit more bearable. ‘Please, leave,’ he demanded, lancing your face with his hostile eyes. 

Well, it’s a good thing you accept ill-mannered bastards, you almost muttered, fists clenching hard into a white-knuckled disaster. 

And perhaps you were even willing to negotiate, to have their best players all lined up in front of you — each waiting for a turn to be relentlessly put in his place by you; and you would certainly show them — quick, efficient and dangerous. You would force them into submission — professionally so, in a way that would make them all wonder whether the next Judit Poglar has decided to bless them with her presence. 

Because, sure; you were certainly many things — an excellent mind, a trickster, a fanatic, but that list never included an amateur. The mere fact someone even dared to insult you in such a way — and without even sparing you one game of chess — was, frankly, deeply humiliating. 

So you decided to let your pride win. Walked out of that damned club with an ostentatious huff, heels clacking loud enough to muffle their demeaningly misogynistic brouhaha — a tacit protest, an addendum to your passive-aggressive ‘good luck, gentlemen’. 

They didn’t want you — fine, whatever, you didn’t want them either. You’ll find yourself a counterpart soon — not any less intelligent, and, most importantly, respectful. They’ll come crawling back to you once you gain a rating, mourning their loss and pathetically begging for sweet mercy. You could already imagine the holes rubbed through the nice fabric of their dress pants from all the kneeling you’ll make them do. 

Besides, Jayce had already promised to introduce you to someone decent. ‘He’s sweet,’ he assured you, a friendly arm wrapped around your tense shoulder. ‘Incredibly smart,’ he proceeded with his wholehearted praise, proud grin so wide the corners of his mouth were definitely hurting. ‘Somewhat awkward,’ he mused, raising one eyebrow in consideration, ‘though I’m not entirely sure it’s awkwardness, per se, Viktor is simply… pensive.’

Viktor. Your eyes squeezed shut, offering the restless imagination a brief opportunity to brainstorm. A competent, pensive and sweet chess lover: what would his temper turn out to be like? Does he have a rating yet? What if he’s already playing professionally? Perhaps he even has a title? 

Jayce’s next comment didn’t offer you much help though. 

‘He’s handsome too,’ he whispered, a shit-eating smirk wiped instantly off his pleased physiognomy. Elbows become offensive weapons between the ribs of unfortunate matchmakers, you see. 

Either way: the deal was sealed. You were going to meet Viktor the next chance you get, and Jayce’s upcoming birthday has provided you with precisely that convenience. 

It still happened rather spontaneously — you can’t mentally prepare yourself for an encounter you don’t quite know what to expect of. Sure, Jayce’s complaisant flattery was still at your service — a source not exactly reliable, yet somewhat welcomed nonetheless: though only because you lacked any other information about this Viktor persona.

But you decided not to upset a dear friend on his birthday. Acting like Jayce was bearable to be around was a part of your gift, after all. 

Unfortunately, the fact he was born on an awfully steamy July day wasn’t helping you accomplish that; you squinted, drowning a glass of that disgustingly warm bourbon, a couple of melted ice cubes in it slightly diluting the once-rich taste of liquor. The man of the hour had quickly dissolved into a mess of infuriatingly noisy people after only reserving you a quick hello, shiny eyes already evidently tipsy — either from all the attention or the contentious quality of the booze this bar had to offer. 

You didn’t dare to complain. The tab was on a birthday boy, and you knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. Knew better, yet still stared right at Jayce’s laughing physiognomy, grin so blindingly toothy it had you regretting ever sojourning this feast of life. Not that you had anything against attending birthday celebrations; but a cramped bar, a cheap drink and not a single minute spent with a man you came here for weren’t exactly your ideal perception of said… festivity. Not to mention that Viktor was terribly late — though your darling mutual acquaintance was in no state to properly introduce you to him anyway. You slipped out of your bar stool, rubbing an erratic little pattern into the weary skin of each heavy eyelid — but the sleepiness didn’t magically dissolve under the persistent pressure of your fingers. If there existed a thing you hated more than cocky men and bad booze — then it certainly had to be feeling hot, and this awful place has kindly reminded you of precisely that long forgotten loathing; air so sticky it was melting your brain into a tired, dysfunctional mush. 

Somehow you managed to find an exit before the headache became borderline unbearable, letting the evening greet you with a chilly slap on precisely that slick place where a damp blouse kept clinging onto your sweaty back. Summer sure was relentless this year — the outdoors didn’t offer you much of that crispy gentle breeze, but it was still not nearly as suffocatingly hot as inside that grimy shelter for drunks. 

Shaky hands slid inside the pocket of your pants, fumbling frantically with the contents of it: glistening candy wrappers, ringing keys and a handful of coins. Took you long enough to finally feel the shape of an old lighter, the spark wheel of it so terribly rusty the callus on your thumb started stinging as soon as you laid it on that rough little bump. 

With a sigh, you fetched a folded pack of Camel out of the same stuffed sack, the state of said poor thing utterly matching its owner’s — all ruffled, messy, with the bottom of it barely still intact. Well, fine, perhaps that last trait was not precisely pertinent to you, but your rear was hurting quite palpably after an hour spent sitting on that awfully uncomfortable stool — which meant that relating to your poor box of cancer sticks was inevitable. 

The spark wheel gave in after a few insistent pushes, and within seconds you were taking your first greedy drag, back pressed tightly against the cool wall; providing you much needed support for taming a headache with a smoke break that would undoubtedly cause a new one in an instant. The filth filled your lungs with sweet relief, and you let the sedation run slowly through your veins, squeezing the filter in an affectionate little embrace of trembling index and middle fingers. 

And then your private moment was ruined. But not abruptly in the slightest, with just one simple call of your name – the most careful of all interventions, surprisingly quizzical and polite, heavily accented at the edge of the very last syllable. Still had you choking ungracefully on your tiny nicotine snack, filling the silence with awfully inelegant coughing. 

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you,” spoke your pensive intruder, causing you to sharply turn around, back clinging off the wall in one unsubtle movement. 

That’s how all meaningful formal meetings happen. Unfailingly when you least expect them, or, even worse — when you stop expecting them at all, with every thought banished from your utterly relaxed mind. They sneak up on you under shitty bars, giving you a slight vertigo and then offering a polite smile to make amends, gripping the handles of their canes with pent up awkwardness. And god were they peculiar intrusions — matching your silly, much too improper manner to wear corporate clothes for a night out, with just a few buttons of their tight vest undone; limbs lanky, but not inept, eyes brimming with pretty copper right onto your astonished frame. Made you randomly embarrassed about your chipped nail polish and messy hair with just a mere presence of their flawlessness: you knew you were facing a tease before you even managed to acknowledge his appearance, brow raising curiously in a cautious attempt of a greeting.

“Well, you did startle me,” was the first thing to leave your mouth after the coughing assault had ended, lips stretching lazily into an involuntary grin. “How do you know my name?” 

His eyes — oh those big shiny tormentors — widened in surprise, and one sinewy hand crawled somewhat haphazardly up his chest, fingers catching the knot of a red tie to pull on it firmly. To either adjust it or to make the clearing of a tender throat easier — you couldn’t quite place it, yet still watched him in silent astonishment, tasting the bitterish taste of tobacco on the tip of your tongue. 

“Well,” he parroted your tone with sharp accuracy and proceeded with distinguished sass, “I believe a certain someone has introduced us to each other… in absentia, so to speak.” 

Oh. So that was your new charming counterpart? Bravo, Jayce — there was actually something truthful about your flattering for the first time. 

“For I am Viktor, in case you’re still confused,” he obligingly reminded, abandoning the brief fidgeting with his tie to offer you a handshake.  

You gulped, almost extending a dominant arm to accept it, but some weird foreboding had once convinced you that to twine your still smelling of cigarettes fingers with a stranger would be somehow perceived as crude — and so you clumsily caught his palm with your other, less nimble limb. Let the heat of his touch engrave into your hand, eyes swirling the tiny mole above that defined cupid’s bow, making you feel stupid for stealing that innocent of a peek. Had you forgetting about the still stuffed into your mouth cigarette as it fell open in oblivious awe, almost dropping a decent bridge of ashes onto his pretty shoes.

Regaining the lost composure, you managed to introduce yourself in a manner similar to his — not that it was necessary since he seemed to remember what to call you exactly, but the gesture still felt right — you’d vowed to treat people with politeness and liked to think that it was going quite well for you. 

“So,” he uttered somewhat approbatory, withdrawing his hand from your tender clasp, “normally I don’t… tutor. But Jayce was rather insistent I try — and he’d also assured me that you’re quite passionate about the subject.” 

You huffed, letting out an undefinable sound of confusion. Not without a mixture of evident irritation to it, if you were to be frank — but that was entirely justified. A tutor? Is that how Jayce really took it? 

“I’m not looking for a tutor,” you sassed matter-of-factly, angrily inhaling from your cigarette. “I’m looking for a counterpart. What makes you think that you’re competent enough to teach me anything at all?” you inquired with candid hostility, watching him go limp in silent panic. 

You’d vowed to treat people with politeness and didn’t care if it wasn’t going well for you anymore. Quite a drastic change of plans, to be frank.

“Oh, I am not claiming that,” Viktor rushed to object, and the way a few strands of hair started shaking treacherously as he wagged his head had almost caused you to crack a pretentious smirk. But he quickly soothed the unkempt curl and proceeded with his explanation, “I was simply told you might need some help. Why the unnecessary attitude?” 

“Because you were told wrong,” you practically spat the smoke into his face, lips smacking together with an audible pop. It made his textured nose wrinkle with a fed up sigh, entertaining you with an ungainly attempt of waving that livid cloud away. 

“And that’s my fault… how, exactly?” he mumbled with an utterly puzzled glare, and you scoffed in silent rejoicement, leaning slightly closer to divert yourself with more of his emotiveness. 

“You should have paid more attention to what Jayce told you,” you jumped over his rhetorical question paying it no mind whatsoever. Though, as you were reminiscing on the events of this exact conversation — your own audacity made you wonder how Viktor managed to refrain from slapping you across the face that very instant. The shitty booze must have turned out not so shitty after all — it sure gave you the nerve, and you were holding onto it a tad bit too tightly. 

But your new companion didn’t take that well. His thick eyebrow protruded into a furious arc, lids twitching slightly at the outburst you were so pathetically proud about. Both hands returned to the handle of his cane, as if getting ready to transform it into a weapon — and he leaned his whole body weight on it with a displeased gasp, accented voice obtaining a lower, more threatening edge to it. 

He’s sweet, you scoffed, ready to press your forehead against his like an uncivilized animal. It’s not like you were acting much better than that anyway. 

Well, at least Jayce didn’t lie about the handsome part. 

“I’ll have you know that I was, indeed, paying attention,” he hissed through gritted teeth, “and if you wish to quibble over the words that do not even belong to me — then fine: be my absolute guest, but do not except me to align with your enthusiasm and partake in useless insults.” 

He cleared his throat again, evidently reluctant to indulge in whatever spectacle you were so clearly asking for. That man didn’t deserve your resentment, but now you certainly deserved his, and so you backed off, fingers twitching haphazardly as they curdled around your cigarette for one last awkward drag, lashes fluttering with palpable nervousness. 

“I was told you needed a tutor — and I sincerely apologize if your request was miscomprehended,” Viktor sighed, and you blinked at him in baffled reverence. Wishing oh so desperately to burn your  always looking for trouble tongue with that still somewhat smoldering tobacco stick. 

“No, I…” you gasped in response, but Viktor held a soothing hand up, stopping you from puking out more of that guilty incoherent nonsense. 

“Please, allow me to finish,” he demanded, and you obeyed — a mere culpable inch away from accidentally swallowing the filter still filling your mouth with a sharp savour of smoke. 

And your submission was appreciated right away. 

“So, as I was saying,” Viktor returned to his lecture with a distinguished cough, “I’m sorry if your request was miscomprehended. But it certainly wasn’t miscomprehended by me, which makes your reaction somewhat… unfair, don’t you think?” 

“Yes,” you yielded, nodding in weak agreement. “Yes, totally unfair.” 

“To say the least,” he was quick to add, emphasizing the last word especially heavy.  

“To say the least,” you parroted in response — just like a tamed misbehaving brat. And that’s precisely what you were — humbled, put in your place and sorry. You were sorry, and it made you quiver as you timidly chewed on the inside of an already half-eaten cheek, frantically counting the numerous scratches on your shoes. Doing anything to escape the gentle orbs undressing you off your very flesh in an attempt to find something even you doubted was still there: some prudence. 

“So, with that being said,” Viktor summarized, and you heard a resonant click of his cane against the concrete, “I suggest you take out your anger on someone who’s responsible for the incorrect wording.” 

You dared to abandon your defeated position, head tilting slightly upwards to witness his departure — just as languid as this completely disastrous evening; no offense to Jayce and his special day, of course. 

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” he smiled, politely nodding at the establishment before you two, “I still ought to wish that someone a happy birthday.” 

So that’s how you lose both a battle and a war. He’d just taught you a valuable lesson — and here you were, so appalled to the idea of being tutored. Oh how the tables have turned. 

You reached out a hand for him, preliminarily putting out that damned cigarette to the sole of your messy shoe in a chaotic rush. Grazed his shoulder with a fleeting touch — so cowardly unsure if you were even allowed to pamper such luxury in these conditions. But he showed you some mercy — allowed it to linger there, slightly dipped into the curvature of his clavicle, awaiting your next move with a didactic frown. 

A look of a man who’d put you in a checkmate before even pulling out a chess board. 

“Viktor, I’m sorry,” you muttered with the most sincere remorseful look your face could even master, “I’m terribly sorry, actually. I shouldn’t have—“ but he interrupted you, eyes drifting playfully to the hand still invading his precious privacy. 

“Oh, shit,” you cussed under your breath, hastily pulling it back as if it was leprotic, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—“

“Please, continue,” he insisted softly. Gave you a few seconds to finish crumbling into stupid tipsy pieces and stepped back, all of his attention centered precisely on your earnest apology. 

Oh, nevermind, someone please scratch the ‘showed you some mercy’ part.  

“I was rude,” you confessed (as if it wasn’t obvious enough already). “Unacceptably so. I’m not exactly… good with social cues — but it’s no excuse, I should never have said that. Especially within the first five minutes of meeting you,” the words were flowing out of your mouth so naturally — surprisingly smooth for someone who’d normally take three to five business days to come up with a proper atonement (or even consider the necessity of one whatsoever). 

“Do you think I could somehow… make it up to you?” you hit him with your most pitiable arrow, the one you were saving up for special occasions when you really did mean to somehow atone for all the damage, eyes two pretty things seeking his forgiveness with a sporadic, perplexed blink. But they saw none — he’d frowned, hummed in consideration, and then tormented you with silence for just a few more everlasting seconds, making you sink your lips softly into the edge of your nail and scrape some polish off of it. Squinting instantly at the awful, chemical taste — and Viktor finally gave up. 

You’d realized it was your first time hearing him laugh much later. It was, indeed, a thing to remember — all raspy, strangely domestic, not malicious or willing to destroy you any further. And yes — technically, he was laughing at you, but if that’s what you’d get every time this man filled the air with that soft laughter — then you may as well become a circus employee just to figure out how to make him emit more of it.

“All is forgiven,” he assured you, shaking his head, “the second you made that face, actually. But no more of that, please. If that’s how you plead — then I’m afraid I might someday forgive you something utterly unacceptable.” 

He’s sweet, you sighed, an unsure smile returning plastered across your face once again. 

Perhaps you should start listening to Jayce more often. 

“But back to your request,” Viktor was quick not to let you turn into a puddle on that still scorched by the sun ground, “a counterpart — is that what you need? Why not join a chess club, then?” 

His question didn’t mean any harm, and he obviously just asked it out of sheer curiosity — yet it still made you feel a tad bit demeaned. Not by him, of course, just by the fact those arrogant fucks still dared to coexist without you. 

Perhaps they would be willing to reconsider if they saw your behavior tonight? 

You sighed, shrugging off his query. “I tried to. They didn’t let me because I don’t have a rating.”

“Really? Well that’s just strange — since when does one need a rating for it?” his confusion was genuine, eyes widened drastically as if he’d just heard the biggest absurdity of his entire life. 

“That’s what I said,” you whined in a tone of a natural gossip-girl, almost ready to chain-smoke the entire rest of your pack now that you were reminded of your misery. 

“I see,” Viktor hummed, stroking a thumb over the line of his sharp chin in deep scrutiny, “hm, I’m certain I’ve never heard them demand a rating for enrollment before. A club is not a tournament, after all.” 

“Wait, are you a member of our chess club?” the realization quickly absorbed you, but Viktor didn’t quite catch on to your astonishment. 

“Yes,” he dryly confirmed, “yes, I am. Not that I spend much time there though — those gentlemen are simply… how do I put it politely? Mediocre. Incompetent. I don’t like careless opponents — what’s the point in playing them if you can picture how exactly you can win within seconds?” 

Within seconds. You froze in apparent disbelief, trying to figure out whether he’s bluffing or actually being serious, awaiting tensely on something — anything —  that might indicate a joke. But not a single muscle on his pale face twitched into a smile — he’d responded with a look as awfully inquisitive as yours, unsure of what exactly you expect him to do. 

So he does mean it. In that case, he’s either very full of himself — or these boys are, in fact, that hopeless in chess. And something kept telling you that it most likely was the ladder.

“I’m jealous then, I suppose,” you offered him a safe answer, toying thoughtlessly with your poor, rusty lighter. 

“Please don’t be,” he protested with a careful plea. “Envy is a waste of time. You should pursue ways to expand your knowledge — not to contract them with such trivialities.” 

Bold of him to assume you might envy his skills. Well, yes — you were definitely beaming with envy, but he didn’t need to know that just yet. 

You snorted, almost letting that toxic conceit take over whatever pieces of common sense Viktor had just punched back into you — and his words dwelled, slinking through your skull, filling you not with thirst for vengeance, but with inspiration. It gave you some time to form a decent comeback, so you used it wisely: by delivering precisely that kind of answer, eyes rolling playfully at his discreet lecture. 

“I don’t envy your tactics,” you informed him, gracefully holding your head up, “I envy the fact you have someone to show them to.” 

And that boy smiled again, forcing your light vertigo to return — but not out of tipsiness or so-called ‘arrogance poisoning’. 

“So do you,” he whispered, and watched you derail with the most victorious countenance known to a man. Reminding you nonchalantly that he doesn’t need a single chess piece to have you in a stalemate. 

That muggy bar might’ve offered you an experience of being trapped in a figurative, impossibly narrow coffin, but Viktor’s presence was the thing that truly made you feel like an actual cadaver — all empty thoughts, and stiffness, and skipped heartbeats. 

But Jayce forgot to mention that your new competitor was also deeply laconic. 

“Meet me in the library next… Friday, if you’re available?” he wasn’t generous enough to award you with any more seconds to recover from this exchange, impatiently expecting a confirmation. You could only manage a non-verbal one, nodding weakly at his offer. 

“Say… somewhere around noon?” he mused, and you instantly nodded again, waiting obligingly for his next suggestion. What a pleasure it is to do business with you! 

“Perfect,” he snatched the words out of your mouth, already half-turned to the bar entrance, “please bring a board, and I shall bring the clocks… Yes, the library should suffice — it’s not like a game of chess requires much conversation either way. Now, please do excuse me — I really need to steal Jayce away for a minute.” 

You watched him vanish into that devilish, so utterly unfitting for a man of his kind place; eyes nailed into his back as the crowd of feasting people swallowed your new interlocutor. Letting an excited little breath slip past your open mouth, escorting him with an uncoordinated wave of a shaky hand — a rather silly, excessive gesture since he wasn’t able to see it, and yet it still felt right — like a perfect little farewell to strengthen this newfound friendship with. 

That’s how you met your counterpart — or, perhaps, that’s what you used to see in him once. 

What you were still oblivious about — is that this man will conquer you in much more capacities than just the game that brought you two together.

⸻

tags (please let me know if you’d like to be added to them) : @zaunitearchives @blissfulip

[wannaeatramyeon]

How would the boys (Jake, Samuel, Warren, anyone else) react if reader got hurt? Like stabbed or shot?

Also there are not enough Warren Chae x reader scenerios and headcanons so if you have time and/or energy please I beg of you😩😩

Thanks for the ask :) i'll try and incorporate more of Warren. I always find it hard to write scenarios and hc of people with canon love interest/partners because i feel like such a homewrecker!

Lookism reacting to S/O getting hurt

(Jake Kim, Samuel Seo, Warren Chae, Gun Park, Goo Kim)

Jake Kim

So much guilt at seeing you getting hurt regardless of whether it was a direct consequence of being with him or not.

Starts doubting the relationship. Not because he doesn't love you, because he does. So so much. But your safety is his number one concern and he would rather lose you than put you in any more danger.

The guilt piles on when he realises that you are consoling and comforting him, when it should be the other way round. You talk to him and tell him that there's nowhere else you'd rather be than by his side. The remorse lessens, ever so slightly.

While you're recovering, Jake clears his schedule to make sure he can spend all his time with you. Puts on an extra brave face to make you smile and laugh at his silliness. Laughter is meant to be the best medicine, after all.

In the meantime, there are strict orders to the rest of the crew to make sure that the person pays for what they have done to you.

Samuel Seo

After making sure you're ok and well on your way to recovery, the first thing he would do is find out exactly who injured you and where they are.

Doesn't care about exactly why you are injured, just that the person is punished for harming you. How dare they harm what is his. How dare they even touch you.

The second thing he does is grab his brass knuckles to rain hellfire. He doesn't involve anyone else. It's personal. Samuel does all the talking with his punches until they are left dead, or wishing they're dead.

Insecurities and doubts start to kick in after the dust has settled. Why isn't he strong enough to protect you in the first place? Your words of reassurance, as usual, always does wonders for his inferiority complex. He would be lost without you by his side.

Doesn't let you out of his sight when you are healing, and completes all his work from home. You're touched. You know how ambitious he is, so to put you above everything else shows how much he loves you.

Warren Chae

Completely shaken up by what has happened. No doubt he will exact his revenge but will be left traumatised by the incident.

He swore to protect you and he's failed to do so? How could he think of himself as your partner. What's the point in telling people about his wins/losses/draws? The stupid ratio doesn't matter if he loses you.

Struggles with omitting words even more after this, and trains harder than ever to get stronger. Absolutely dotes on you 24/7 until you are better and also beyond.

Similar to Jake and Samuel, you need to comfort and console him about his insecurities. How you can't plan for every eventuality, Warren can't be with you all the time even if he tries. Together, you build his confidence back up.

The first time he speaks to you in a full sentence again, you cry. He didn't think it was possible to love you anymore.

Gun Park

Immediately checks that it's not fatal. If it is, he will rush you to emergency care. If not, then he will be chasing after the attacker.

Either way, it all ends up the same way for the person who hurt you. There is no mercy, he will burn the place down to the ground to find out who it is and kill them. If they're affiliated with someone, then consequences be damned.

If by some stroke of luck they manage to evade Gun, then he will happily spend the rest of his life tracking them down.

Surprisingly caring when you are recovering, making sure your every need and whim is tended to. To be honest, gets extremely overbearing. You wouldn't be allowed to go to the bathroom on your own if you didn't insist.

This side of him doesn't come out often though so you try and take advantage. Gun knows this and lets you anyway.

Goo Kim

Absolute seek and destroy. Goo hates people touching things that are his. There is no way whoever harmed you is getting away, and especially not with a painless death.

The sadistic side of his character really comes out. He wants to see your attacker beg for death. For every moment left in their pitiful life to be hell on earth. To see the light finally go out in their eyes. And he wants to be responsible for all that.

A complete 180 from this is the way he is with you when you are recovering. Your every wish is his command.

Goo will stick to your side like the strongest superglue known to mankind. You are never getting a moment of peace for the foreseeable. It's annoying and cute in equal measures.

Underneath the clinginess is a whole lotta love and worry, so you take it in stride.

[mybworlds]

CHAPTER 16

status: ongoing

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: your life is full of 'must'. You live with your overprotective mother who controls every aspect of your life. You have a dream, to write romance novels, but love - real love - you haven't found yet. Your mother has even decided what you must do in your free time: play music. One day, however, when you go to your music teacher's house, you will have an unexpected encounter and from that day on things change…

Masterlist

rating: 18+ explicit (minors, DNI)

Before to start... thank you for your support, for your likes and reblog, thank you, thank you, thank you ❤️ If you like it pls leave a like/comment/reblog it, if you don't like it don't be rude and keep going. Please remember English is not my first language, so please be merciful!

Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner and thanks @saradika-graphics for the divider.

Taglist: @harriedandharassed

Joel is there and he's in your house, sitting at the kitchen table and he's sitting across from your mother. The two have a deeply tense expression and you too, you zigzag your gaze from one to the other.

"What happens?" you ask in dismay.

"I called Mr. Miller," you swallow, unable to bear the gaze of either of them, "and I begged him to find a little more time for you and your music," you swallow again "he is even willing to come here to us if you don't have time to go to him." she says again and you are dumbfounded, you wanted to call Joel later but instead. . .

"Yes and then I told your mother" Joel says to whom you look up only for a moment and then look towards your mother "to Mrs. Eleanor" he specifies looking into her eyes making her smile cheekily, you are dumbfounded by your mother's reaction "that's a shame not to intensify your lessons, you're a natural." he adds.

"I had a good teacher, that's all." you say.

"No, you're a natural." he reiterates and you look up at him and so after almost a month your eyes meet again and your heart starts beating fast and you find yourself thinking that, if you had been alone, you would have thrown yourself into his arms and would never have allowed him to leave you again.

"Thank you." you simply reply.

"Well, if you want Mr Miller I'll make you some coffee or maybe I can offer you some pancakes, would you like that?" your mother suggests, heading towards the kitchen.

Joel clears his throat and stands up too, "No, thanks. I'm fine. I just wanted to talk to you about your daughter, we can arrange a meeting maybe once a week here and the other two at my place? We could do everything here, but there are great acoustics there at my place and then I feel a little more comfortable composing as well."

“Oh, honey, did you know that your teacher writes songs too?” your mother informs you enthusiastically.

Oh, yes, of course you know... you clearly remember that day at his house, your arousal, his hands on you, you find yourself instinctively squeezing your legs together as if trying to contain that heat that you feel at the mere memory.

"Yes, I know. I heard one a while ago and it was shocking." you reply, but directing your gaze towards Joel.

"Ma'am, if it's okay, we can have the lesson right away at my place." Joel says taking the car keys.

"Oh, why not here? I'll be leaving in half an hour, I wouldn't disturb you."

"Mom, I don't think it's appropriate..." you start to say.

Joel, however, interrupts you immediately "Okay, but I just have to go get the sheet music at home," then he turns his gaze towards you and says your name so sweetly that it almost makes you dizzy "Would you like to come with me?"

No! Say, no. No!

"All right." you reply standing there stiffly in the middle of the room "Shall we go?" you ask hastily "See you later." you say, taking leave of your mother.

You put on your shoes and then open the door, Joel is right behind you. You go down one step away from the other, you look down at your feet, Joel looks towards you. He would like to apologize for making you feel wrong, for making you feel useless, it's not like that, you are very important to him, but precisely because you are important to him he is even more afraid, fear of losing you.

You get into his car and without saying a word, he starts the car and you drive away from there, he parks in front of his house, he puts on the handbrake and turns towards you, "Can we talk?"

You look at him, “I heard about your daughter.” you tell him straight away.

You see him frown and look sadly into your eyes, “How did you know?”

"Earlier on my way to work, I took another road and passed an old school and there I met your daughter's teacher, Sarah's teacher." you answer him, you see him breathing deeply and then look towards his house "I don't know what you felt, what you feel. . . I. . . I can't even imagine what this kind of loss is." you unhook your belt and move closer to him "I'm so sorry." you put a hand on his cheek making his face turn towards you, you find yourselves eye to eye "Joel, I'm sorry." you repeat "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it, but I want you to know that if you ever want to, I'll listen to you." he places his hand on yours, he pushes it away, but just so he can kiss the palm of your hand, you shiver as you feel his soft lips in contact with your skin. You bring your face closer to his, kissing him on the lips, you move away just enough to look him in the eyes, then he closes the distance again by kissing you deeply. It's like hearing hundreds of fireworks exploding all around you, you can almost feel the electricity passing between you. You would also like to tell him that, although you understand his pain, you would have liked him to talk to you about it, to open his heart, to not make you feel excluded from his life, you would have liked to know his joys and sorrows and instead you discovered his great immense pain on your own, you would like to understand what he does when he talks to Jess if it's not what you think, then what is it like? What do they do? They talk?

You move away only for a few moments, just long enough to get out of the car and enter his house, the time he closes the door and you are once again against each other, he envelops you completely making you feel small and defenseless, you kiss as if you wanted to devour each other, you have your hands in his hair, he holds you tightly to him.

"I missed you," he whispers in your ear, placing a kiss on your earlobe that makes you instinctively - and if possible - press even more against him, his wet lips go down your neck, while his hand sweetly pulls your hair back making you lean your head back against the wall and close your eyes.

I missed you too, you want to tell him, but something stops you, perhaps his inability to speak to you openly, perhaps the fact that he didn't trust you, perhaps the fact that he told you he loves you, but he actually didn't have the need to open up to you, to tell you about himself, about his life, perhaps this is what really hurts you.

He must have sensed that you're a little distant because he stops with his hands on the edges of your shirt, "I mean it," he insists, looking into your eyes, you look at him, your lips are parted and your eyes are shining, but the words are stuck in your throat "I still care about you," you missed hearing your name pronounced by his lips, you close your eyes relaxing imperceptibly against him “what about you?”

"Not to me." you answer, but you answer too quickly and without looking him in the eyes, it's not true and he knows it.

"Say it again, looking into my eyes." he tells you, placing his hands on the sides of your face so that his eyes can meet yours, his eyes in this light look like pure honey and God, how you missed drowning in it!

"Joel, stop it!" you try to free yourself from his grip, but without success, he is stronger than you, he holds you firmly there in place.

"Say it, say it and this time I will disappear from your life forever." Joel urges you knowing that you could never say those words, both you and him, in fact, know well that that bond is still very strong between the two of you "Use your words," he urges you, as you once again try to free yourself, but once again you fail miserably "D' you know why you don't say it? Because both you and I know how we still feel about each other and if you said you didn't care about me anymore, I wouldn't believe you."

You sigh loudly, in fact that's not the problem...

"So?" he urges again looking into your eyes, it's an instant and your lips crash against each other again, his lips so soft, the contact with his beard and mustache, you missed his hands holding your hair, your tongues caressing and chasing each other, you missed this so much.

You enjoy his strong scent and the taste of coffee, he wraps you in his arms making you find yourself on his sofa, you don't even know how you got there "I love you, baby." he says between a kiss and another "I really mean it." he continues giving you a kiss on the tip of your nose, then again on your lips and then along the jaw down along the neck "And you?"

“I wish I could tell you that I don't care about you.” you respond by abandoning your head against a pillow, keeping your eyes closed, while you feel his lips lapping your neck with kisses "But that wouldn't be true," you add, holding your breath, as he stops kissing you and you open your eyes, "I missed you. So much." you squeak.

"I missed you too, angel" you kiss him first again, you put your hands in his hair which feels soft under your fingers, you lightly pull a few strands of his hair hearing him hold his breath, you pull away from his lips just to smile at him for a moment and then lift your head to slowly kiss his jaw, his beard tickles your lips and it's a sensation you've always loved, then you slowly move down to his neck feeling him breathe heavier, you notice his Adam's apple bobbing up and down "Baby," he groans, threading a hand through your hair, making you find eye contact again.

You remember the first time he touched you right here on this couch, you were shaking. Not out of fear, you were never afraid of him or what he could do, you always trusted and relied on him.

You remember how you didn't know how to handle those sensations that upset you deeply, you remember how overwhelming it was to feel his big, strong hands on you, you remember how you felt protected and safe despite that unknown sea of sensations.

“Joel,” you say, then clutching his t-shirt in the fists of your hands, “can I take this off?” you ask him.

He gives you another kiss on your lips, then moves away slightly to allow you to undress him. Once again you enjoy his wide chest, full of wounds and this time you will do what you always wanted to do: kiss them.

"Lie down." you tell him, smiling at him, while he gives you a look between lustful and amused, he does as you say.

You smile at him as you lie on top of him. You kiss him deeply, languidly feeling his hands wander over your covered back first and then under your clothes. You reach for his hands, finding them and bringing them above his head intertwining your fingers with his, you pull away from him for a moment breaking your kiss, “Stay still.” you tell him.

"What do you want to do?" he asks you in an amused tone, but you don't answer, you kiss his neck and then you kiss a first small pink scar on his collarbone, another whitish one longer on the deltoid, another slightly larger whitish one a little further down, you feel his chest hair tickling your lips, you feel him holding his breath, "Let go." this time you say it by looking up at him, his lips are parted and his eyes are full of lust. You then go down to the last wound on his side, the scar is wide and still red - pink, you release your grip from his hands and take a moment to caress it with a thumb, as he gently threads a hand through your hair and then moves the hair that has partly fallen in front of your face.

He whispers your name as you look up at him again, “I love this mouth.” he says, as you start placing kisses on his belly again, until you reach the strip of darker hair that disappears into his trousers where you notice his obvious erection still covered, "Do you wanna drive me crazy?" he asks, breathing heavily through his nose and closing his eyes.

You don't answer him, you straddle him and kiss him again, when your still covered private parts touch you both moan, Joel places his hands on your hips and looks at you with eyes full of desire, you exchange a long silent look, you - both of you - feel a shiver and not because of the cold, but because of the sensations you are experiencing.

He pulls himself up, you are face to face, you enjoy the sight of the wonderful man in front of you, the hair you love to sink your hands into, his dark eyes that you love to drown in, the wrinkles that form at the corners of his eyes and lips, his angular nose, the lips that you would never stop kissing.

"Baby," he says, caressing your face and kissing you lightly, "you're wonderful."

"Really?"

He nods, “Never doubt about that, darling.” he adds, caressing your face again.

He pulls you down onto him, then reverses positions. You have your head resting on the pillow and he is delicately resting on you, you look at each other. It's your turn to be undressed, but he doesn't limit to take off your shirt, he also gets rid of your jeans and underwear.

“You are a beautiful sight, I can't get enough of you,” he tells you, carefully scrutinizing every detail of you.

You feel the heat rising to your cheeks, you're naked under him again, but it's like it's the first time. You feel a slight embarrassment, but the desire you feel in finding yourself under him, caressed by him, wanted by him is stronger.

"What are your intentions?" this time you're the one teasing him.

"I want to kiss your body inch by inch," his eyes become two black pools, while with a thumb he runs over your exposed breast, giving greater attention to your nipples which immediately harden making you gasp and close your eyes "I want to dedicate all the time necessary to this magnificent breast," he says, lowering his face towards your breast, wrapping your nipple between his lips, sucking it gently and then running his tongue over it, "Joel," you moan with your eyes closed, writhing under him, feeling a warm sensation spread up your body, then he kisses the crease between your breasts, then wrapping the other one, giving it the same attention.

Stronger and stronger shivers spread through your body, reverberating there, you're soaked, you must be wetting his sofa because of how strong you feel the excitement.

"Joel..." you moan, squeezing your eyes shut.

"'s there something wrong?" he quips.

You open your eyes to find his eyes made even darker by excitement, if possible, "You still have your jeans on." you point out, “Move over, it's my turn.”

"What is a carousel?" he asks smiling at you, but without moving.

You give him a little grin, "It looks like both of our favorite carousel."

"I'm not done with you yet," he warns you, his mouth moving down to your belly where he leaves a series of small wet kisses, "Does it bother you?" he asks, you shake your head as you slide your hand into his hair again "Oh, baby girl, you're soaked, look at you!" he exclaims, you don't know if he really wants you to look or if it's just an exclamation, in doubt you find yourself swallowing and feeling even wetter seeing how Joel is staring at your intimacy completely exposed to his eyes "I want to treat her like she deserves,” he tells you, stroking your inner thighs with both hands, doing it several times and getting closer and closer to where you want it most.

"Joel. . ." you moan, feeling your intimacy contract at the mere thought of having his hands there again.

"Don't worry, little one," he says and, before you can say anything else, he bends down even more and kisses your mound, you widen your eyes and open your lips, you want to say something, but that gesture takes your breath away "Oh, darling, now I will take care of this delicious little hole." having said this he licks it up to the clit making you gasp and tilt your head back, his tongue seems to want to gently dig inside you, as the contractions increase more and more and you find yourself moaning without restraint and writhing under him "Stay still, love" he says, moving his face slightly away from your intimacy, making his hot breath shatter against your arousal, as he grabs your hips with his hands to keep you still, then his languid caress continues.

"Joel, fuck. . . fuck. . . fuck. . ." you find yourself cursing, squeezing your eyes tightly between one broken moan and another, you're literally on fire, his hands on your hips, his lips and tongue inside you, his nose insistently touching your throbbing center makes you come against him.

He keeps licking until he feels you are relaxing again, he wants to enjoy your nectar until the last drop, when you reopen your eyes you immediately find his dark eyes, he kisses your mound again in a sweet gesture, then he goes up giving you small kisses along your belly, fleetingly on your breasts and then kisses you. That kiss now tastes of you, no longer just of him, but of you and him.

He kisses the tip of your nose and then you stay nose to nose for a while without saying anything, your heart is still beating fast in your chest, his hand reaches for yours, intertwining your fingers and bringing it to his lips, kissing it, “Are you okay?” he asks you.

"Never been better." you reply by smiling at him and tightening your hand grip "Now will you allow me to do something?" you ask him, stroking first his cheek and then his hair with the other hand.

"Whatever you want, darling." he just tells you, as you slide your hand from his hair to his face, to his neck, then you let your hand wander along his chest to the belt of his pants which you slowly undo, you let your gaze wander from his trousers to his absorbed and lustful gaze, you lower your gaze again to his trousers and more precisely to where his already half-hard manhood is, you slowly stroke him up and down, while you continue to study his expression which gradually becomes more tense until he releases a small grunt.

"May I?" you ask him almost intimidated by his reaction, he nods with a small shiver, you place your hands on his chest pushing him back and making him lie down on the sofa.

You lie on him again, you give him a quick kiss and then slowly undo the button on his trousers and lower the zipper, you open his pants revealing his boxers and his growing erection, "Oh, Joel, you are so big," you moan, sliding his jeans down his hips and legs.

"You like it?" he asks you with a half-grin painted on his face.

"Oh, yes." you just reply.

"You have no idea how much I want you. . ." he lets out panting looking for your cheek with one hand, you lean towards him kissing him and savoring his large hand on your cheek, it's so warm, it envelops you completely, it caresses you tenderly, you pull away from him for a moment, gently rubbing your nose against his "I really love you." he adds looking into your eyes, "I didn't think you could be so important in my life, I never thought it possible."

You breathe deeply, stroking with a thumb the profile of his jaw covered by his patchy beard, then you run the same thumb over his soft lips which he promptly kisses, "I know it will be difficult to believe me, but it's true. Please believe me." he insists again.

You nod, even if the deep sadness that this whole story has caused you doesn't disappear at all.

You move away from his face and begin to kiss the crook of his neck, his collarbone, you savor his strong scent and the contact with his tanned skin, you let your lips wander first and then your hands over his broad chest and then you get there where there is a line of darker hairs that disappear into his boxers, you look at him almost looking for permission with your gaze, permission which is immediately granted. You pull them down revealing his huge shaft hitting his soft belly, you stare at him in fascination. The veins are already clearly visible, his big tip is pink, his balls swollen, you find yourself holding your breath without even realizing it, "You wanna touch it?" he offers in a low growl.

The lewdness of his words resonates within you, making the arousal within you grow again, you grab his big arousal, slowly move the foreskin up and down two or three times revealing his big reddened glans, "Yes, that's right, baby, just like that" he encourages you, whispering these words in a low and strangled tone of voice. As before, you see drops of pre cum coming out of the tip and you can't resist, you bring a finger closer, picking them up and bringing them to your mouth, Joel makes a strangled sound "How's it?" he asks in a hoarse voice, looking into your eyes.

It has a particular, strong, intoxicating flavour. "It tastes like you," you say, taking a little more of that pearl and bringing it to your mouth, you like it. You've always thought of sex in general, and then more specifically oral sex, as something humiliating, gross and degrading, but with him nothing is.

"May I?" you ask him, moving your face closer to his shaft.

"You don't have to do this," he says in the voice of someone who craves something.

"I'm the one who wants it," you say and then place a chaste kiss on his reddened tip, you feel him tremble beneath you, then you turn your eyes towards him and see him with his head tilted back slightly, his eyes narrowed, the jaw tightened and the veins in the neck clearly visible, that reaction of his makes you start licking his tip slowly as if it were a sweet ice cream cone.

"Fuck, you're fucking perfect!" he exclaims in a strangled tone, while he begins to slowly caress one of your breasts making you moan.

His words and his reaction make you take him into your mouth a little more and his taste is even stronger, even more intoxicating, it tastes like him, a moan escapes you that makes him make a strangled sound, your eyes sting slightly as you open your mouth even more to welcome him "Oh, baby. . ." he moans, slipping his hand into your hair and stroking it slowly.

You didn't think that giving him pleasure with your mouth was so destabilizing for him, you didn't even think you were capable of it. You caress his shaft with your tongue slowly, fearing you'll do something wrong, you look for his eyes, but his tense expression and his strangled moans make you understand that you are not wrong, you feel his excitement contracting more and more in your mouth, until he lets out a louder moan than the others and in a panting voice says, "Stop, darling, I'm about to come." he warns you, looking at you with shiny eyes full of desire, you move your lips away from him, he's about to get up and reverse the positions as he had already done, but you, with a courage unknown to you, place a hand on his chest, stopping him.

"May I. . .?" you ask him hesitantly, wrapping him in your hand as he pulls you towards him, kissing you hard and deeply, meanwhile you begin your rhythmic caress along his shaft, you hear almost animalistic noises coming from his throat. You are hypnotized by the absolutely erotic moment you are experiencing, his throbbing erection in your fist, you held tight to him in a sweet grip, his lips on you and your tongues busy chasing each other in each other's mouths.

He moans deeply and long into your mouth when he comes, his seed falls in hot, thick spurts along your hand still gripping him and partly onto his belly, only then you move your lips away from his to observe his huge, still throbbing erection held tightly in your fist, the red tip and the streams on your hand, you taste it "Christ. . ." he exclaims in a strangled voice, you look at him quizzically "You are the most beautiful and most erotic thing I have ever laid my eyes on, little brat” you smile without taking your eyes off him.

You never thought that licking the cum, his cum, was so erotic and that it wouldn't disgust you, but above all you never thought you would do this with him. You help him clean his belly from his release, then he pulls you towards him, hugging you tightly to his chest. You're both breathless.

"You were perfect," he comments giving you a kiss on the forehead holding you even tighter to him, you feel good, so good, but a small part of you still continues to feel disappointed by him, a small part that in this moment almost seems to scream and it hurts you to think of him in these terms after what you lived together.

"You're still thinking about my silence with you, aren't ya?" you look into his eyes and he looks back “You just can't let it go, can you?” he adds, moving a lock of hair behind your ear "I made a mistake, I know. You can't just forgive me?"

You move away from him and sit on the edge of the sofa with your back to him, you place your forehead against the palms of your open hands and breathe deeply before answering him "It's not something that happens like that. You don't tell me openly about your ex, I find out about your daughter by myself because of some photos scattered here and there," you lift your head and look towards him “it’s a lot to take in.”

“I know,” he just says without taking his eyes off your face.

"I knew you had a past, but I didn't believe that. I thought you divorced your ex-wife, I thought you had a daughter maybe with her mother somewhere and that you saw her every now and then. I imagined this." you confide in him.

"Would you have preferred this?" he asks you.

You look away for a moment, preferred maybe not, maybe you would have been jealous of the time he would have had to spend with his daughter and maybe with his ex, but maybe you would have accepted it.

Instead, you find yourself fighting a ghost, a pain so strong that neither you nor anyone else could put aside.

"Joel. . . I don't know. In short, I'd have understood. What I really can't understand is why not talk about it? Unfortunately your daughter is no longer here, why not say so? I'd have hugged you in silence and in silence I'd have listened to you talk to me about her." you reply, looking again at his hazel eyes.

"I know," he says sitting up and kissing your still bare shoulder, you get shivers feeling his soft lips contrasting with his beard against your skin "and since we're in the mood for confessions, she's not my ex-wife, she was my partner, girlfriend if you like, there was never any marriage between us, just Sarah." you look into each other's eyes "After she died, I accused her and she accused me, this led to both of us going our separate ways. We were only hurting ourselves. Then every year, when that day came, we found ourselves remembering her and remembering our fleeting family. Things worked for one, maximum two months and then everything exploded again, you already know the rest."

His previous silence hurt and still hurts you, but you appreciate that he told you about this other little corner of himself, you sigh "There's still one thing you didn't tell me," he looks at your face, "you told me it wasn't what I thought about you and your ex, so what do you do when you see each other? You talk, um. . . you - you fuck, what did you do?" you gulp, you're scared to hear his response, but you need to know.

"The first few times we did both, we talked and we fucked. A lot. A few times we even dared to think about having a child together again," you feel like you're sinking at the idea that they even planned all of this "but then we decided that it wasn't right to relive all over again. So, when we see each other, and this is increasingly rare, we talk. We just remember our daughter. You know, it's a pain that doesn't go away. You can find a thousand things to do, but. . ." he sighs "the pain never leaves you." he's telling you the truth, you feel it, his eyes don't lie, his sad expression is the confirmation of this, you lean against him and place your head in the crook of his neck, you turn your head towards his neck and you deeply inhale his scent, holding him tightly to you, thus making him feel your closeness.

[little-emerald-snake]

I come bearing another potential "sequel" idea. Obviously you don't have to write this. I randomly thought back to the "Sebastian with a reverse PA" story and, well...

Let's say f!MC decides she wants to return the favor, in a way. She decides to get a piercing of her own that can help stimulate them both. My mind says either a tongue piercing or a fourchette piercing, but that's completely up to you if you decide you like this idea 🤭

Anyways, she gets it and it becomes so hard not to ruin the surprise and she's holding off because it's still healing. She has to keep coming up with excuses for why they can't (too tired, have to study, etc). Both Seb and MC are sexually frustrated so by the time she feels it's healed enough, it's feral while also trying to be careful with both piercings.

(I'm just realizing how both my requests have a bit of a theme to them. Don't know what that says about me 🤣 Anyways, much love 💜)

Piercings pt3 - Sebastian Sallow X F!MC

🔥 NSFW 🔞 MDNI

My lovely cyan1de, your brain is absolutely filthy and I love it 🫶🏻. I’ve taken your inspo but I changed the piercing to something with a little less heal time for the stories sake. Hope you like it anyway 💕. Thank you as always for the requests!

Warnings: descriptions of healing piercing, please have mercy and if you get a ‘spicy’ piercing let it heal fully/follow aftercare instructions so you don’t get an infection, modern college a/u, unprotected p-in-v, oral f receiving, mattress fucking?

2k words

Things had been incredible between them. While they had no label per say, they very much went on dates, spent the night with each other and hooked up fairly regularly.

She knew his birthday was only a few weeks away and while he swore he only wanted to spend the day with her and refused gift ideas, she had a fun little idea that had manifested after a saucy conversation or two about piercings.

After talking plenty about his she’d decided to ask what he’d think if a partner were to get one. He chuckled and gave her a wild playful look, hair messy from the combination of sweat and her fingers carding through it. “Wouldn’t mind it. What? You thinking about getting one?”

She’d only shrugged playfully, pretending to mull it over. She couldn’t deny the fact that she had in fact been thinking about getting a piercing ever since their first encounter. “Well if you do decide you want one-“ he paused to wiggle his brows and glanced at her bare chest “or two…I think it would be hot. But don’t feel like you need one just because I got one.”

She’d of course done her research of healing and pain and decided her top contender was a VCH piercing. Between the benefits, healing time, and the aesthetics of it she decided that would be the piercing she got.

Her roommate had agreed to go with her and hold her hand while she got it done, all kinds of on board for her and Sebastian since she seemed to be really happy since they’d started hooking up.

Thankfully the piercing wasn’t too painful, a big pinch and a bit of soreness but nothing she couldn’t handle. Her roommate had been hysterically laughing since she’d gotten home to look at it and her first words uttered were “She’s so pretty!”.

The next day Sebastian had tried to come over between classes for a bit of midday fun. But she’d quickly made the excuse that she was really tired and needed a nap. She’d also carefully evaded going back to his after a coffee date by saying she had to do some extra studying.

Luckily she’d been able to just get away with a good blowjob for him on the couch during their movie night at his place later in the week. He’d started to get a little suspicious after about two weeks of evaded sexual encounters or only blowjobs. “You know you can talk to me right? Like if something is wrong…is something wrong?”

She quickly waved him off just saying she’s been having some hormone changes which have made her tired and have a lower libido. In all honesty she was having an incredibly hard time telling him no, but she was almost halfway through the recovery and was determined to surprise him with her new piercing. “Love, is this because of your period?” He’d said while nipping the spot just below her ear, grinding against her thigh. “You know I don’t mind a bit of blood, I’ll still take good care of her. I promise.”

She of course already knew this since they’d already had period sex and he hadn’t been deterred in the slightest. Of course he’d been all too accommodating of her surge of desires during her ovulating week though.

He whispered incredibly sweet things and treated her like a princess but they definitely were a very sexually active couple. So when his hands began to wander when she stayed the night just a few days into her third week of healing she was losing her battle.

He whispered raunchy filth into her ear, rubbing and grinding against her inner thigh and moving closer to her crotch. One intense drag against her had her wincing and her mouth falling open.

Sebastian immediately stopped, cupping her face in his palms. “What’s wrong, love? Did I hurt you? Are you okay?”

She finally broke down, just three days before his birthday she felt like it was unavoidable at this point. She flashed a shy smile, looking up at him cheekily. “So you know how I talked to you about getting a piercing right?”

Sebastian’s lust lidded eyes popped and she swore she saw them sparkle. “You didn’t.” He looked down between them as if he’d see it through her clothes. He looked back up with wide eyes. “Holy shit…what did you get pierced?”

She laughed and rolled him off of her, carefully shimmying out of her pajama shorts and spreading her legs for him. “Surprise! Happy Birthday.”

His eyes darkened and he looked up, licking his lips. “Gods I’ve missed your pussy…and now she’s all pretty for me. God you know you didn’t have to do that.”

She smiled, blushing as he looked back down in awe. “I wanted it. It wasn’t just for you, promise. What do you think?”

He licked his lips again and she practically moaned from the look on his face. “How long till it’s healed?”

She bit into her bottom lip nervously. “Healing time is 4-8 weeks and it’s been 3 weeks and 4 days.”

His eyes widened. “You got it to be healed perfectly on my birthday…” he crawled up the side of her body, holding her neck carefully in his palm and he whispered against her lips. “Naughty girl.”

He kissed her deeply, tasting her and groaning into their kiss. She could feel his arousal against her thigh and it had her moaning into his kiss. He pulled back, eyes dark and lusty. “You can’t make those sounds, not when I still need to let that pretty little pussy heal up baby.”

She practically whined against his lips. The soreness had long since disappeared and she knew if she kept things clean that it would likely be fine for them to fool around a bit. She pushed at him till he was shoved out of bed and standing beside it, confused. “You’ve showered, right?”

He nodded, a confused tilt of his chin as she waved him towards the bathroom. His gray shorts doing very little to cover all the freckles littering his skin or the bulging mass thickening between his legs. “Go wash your hands then come back to bed.”

His eyes bulged and he hurried to the bathroom. He came back quickly, sliding into bed with her. She could smell his hand soap and smiled up at him as he crowded over her. “What are you comfortable doing? I don’t want to hurt you.”

She reached between them, palming his erection through the sweatpants he wore and hummed softly with approval. “I need this tonight, that is, if you’ll give it to me.”

He ground against her hand, leaning down to nuzzle into her neck and inhale her scent. He groaned, rolling his hips harder before frustration pulled somewhere inside him and he reached down to free his aching cock. It sprung free, cool air kissing his swollen leaking tip, silver barbell glinting in the low light. “Gods I’ve needed your pussy.”

She giggled breathily as he notched himself at her entrance, sitting up to watch the head of himself disappearing, his eyes fixed eagerly on her brilliant new piercing. His mouth practically watered with the urge to roll his tongue against it, use his tongue to flick the jewelry over her sensitized clit. “Does it increase your stimulation?”

She nodded, gasping as the head of his cock sunk inside. She was tight from their lack of fucking and she felt him pulse excitedly from inside of her walls. “Y-yes, even just cleaning it and looking at it in the shower, whenever I bump it, feels so good.”

He groaned in agony, shutting his eyes and sliding another inch or so inside, rolling his hips to increase her friction and spread the wetness. “Gods your so fucking tight. Been too long since you've been stretched around my cock, love.”

She nodded, gripping his shoulders. His hand slid down, barely pressing against the jewelry and she cried out, legs wrapping around his waist. Holding himself back was going to be a feat and a half.

He sunk the rest of the way inside her and she constricted around him. He nudged the jewelry against her clit again and her head tossed backwards in pleasure. The sight of her falling into pleasure was absolutely breathtaking. He groaned, adjusting to straddle on leg, bringing the other so her knee hooked up over his shoulder, now spread apart his pubic bone ground against the piercing and had her moans heightening in pitch.

His thrusts were slow rolls that casually surged to desperately needy thrusts that he couldn’t hold back no matter how badly he tried. She felt far too good and it had been far too long. “God you’re cock, oh and the way your r-rubbing the piercing. Fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

He chuckled as she gripped the sheets and arched up as she tightened like a vice around him. He tried to keep a cocky tone in his voice but it came out far more strained than he’d hoped. “Oh yea? Already, baby? That little piercing really does help you out, doesn’t it?”

He pressed a thumb right over the jewelry and she lurched up, practically shrieking as she rippled around him, crashing over her edge so fast. He groaned, surging his hips through her orgasm till she finally stilled, loud cries dulling to whimpering coos.

He pulled out of her, having her look down at him in hazy confusion as he settled, laying himself between her legs, spreading her warm thighs open in front of him. She flushed all the way from her cheeks to her thighs as he groaned, spreading her open and grinding his hips against the bed, glutes flexing and drawing her attention before he whispered in a gruff tone. “Fuck it.”

He dove in, licking her cunt from her silky wet opening and up to her newly decorated clit. He moaned at the taste and she frantically reached for the mass of fluffy hair. “S-Seb you can’t! You just fucked me there!”

He made another groan, rolling his hips steadily against the mattress. “I don’t care. This pussy is mine and I’ll eat it whenever I want to. I don’t care if your fresh out of the shower or freshly fucked and filled with my cum. I’ll taste you whenever the fuck I feel like it.”

Heat pooled deliciously between her legs as his tongue flicked precariously over the jewelry through her hood. He teased it over her clit, ran his tongue below it and tortured her with direct pressure that had her absolutely wild and all the while his hips never stopped against the bed.

The sight from between her legs had her quickly climbing the rungs of another orgasm. Her tugs in his hair became more urgent as her toes curled against the warm blankets and her thighs bracketed his head as she arched up into his talented tongue.

She came, shuddering and loose against his face and she didn’t stop till finally he lifted his head, licking her shiny wetness from his lips and chin.

Her eyes bulged when he sat up and she saw the strings of cum trailing from his cock to the blanket. Had he really fucked their sheets till he came while eating her out?

His eyes met hers and he glanced to where she was looking, chuckling and using that low satisfied tone that made her tingle. “How about I change the sheets while you shower off so everything stays clean?”

She swallowed, nodding and getting up into shaking feet and padding into his bathroom while he tossed sheets into the wash. He joined her and a whole new fresh wave of arousal rising inside of her as his erection slipped between the cleft of her ass and she was suddenly wondering if the slap of his balls against her clit as he fucked her from behind would feel as good as it sounded.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Snice Conner/ Kon-el is half Kryptoniton, would some of your Hcs still count?

Like Conner would be affected by sent too?

If that's so, can we get a Conner x Reader (He/Him) ?

I think it would be great if Conner had a crush on the reader, he might try to steal some of reader's sweaters/ hoodies without thinking. So to poke back the reader steals one of Conner's favorite shirts, the reader having a mischievous smile when he sees how flustered Conner is, to have the Reader smelling like him.

You can keep this fluff, or make it a little NSFT, I'll let you decide!

Conner Kent x male reader

Headcanons

(Ive run out of young justice conner gifs, so have this titans one instead)

Always hype to write about my kryptonian headcanons

-          Conner wouldn’t realize what he was doing in the beginning, stealing your stuff like he did. It would just be a deep urge of his, to smell like you or have your scent close to him.

-          So little by little as you two hang out, he would just bring some of your hoodies or sweaters back to his room, resorting to even wearing them every now and then.

-          You would most likely realize before Conner himself, seeing as he isn’t as subtle as he thinks he is when he borrows some of your stuff, especially when he doesn’t give it pack and it just ends up on a big pile on his bed.

-          So, when you start stealing shirts and hoodies back, that primal part of Conners brain immediately is awake, hyper focused on you. He especially gets antsy when you walk around wearing his clothes, smelling like him.

-          He starts chuffing and purring at a frequency only other kryptonians can hear, that feral part of his mind so pleased that you are wearing his scent and smelling like him. It makes him want to pull you into his arms and never let go.

 -          You two keep up this game for a while, swapping clothes back and forth without ever actually saying anything. And it only makes that part of Conners brain go a little extra wild. Especially when he one day catches you going around in one of his t-shirts and just a pair of boxers.

-          At some point he realizes you gotta be doing this on purpose, as you smirk and snicker at his flustered reactions. It makes him growl at the frequency normal people cant hear, feeling something in his chest about being teased that way.

-          It makes him want to mark his territory, but he feels embarrassed about wanting to smother you even more in his scent and even mark you as his. So, you’ll most likely have to take the step in that direction.

-          But when you get the ball rolling there’s no end to it, expect so many hugs and so much scenting, expect him to suck hickeys all over your body and lick you all over, especially in areas that gather a lot of your smell.

-          You’ll also have to learn to live with just how excited smelling your scent or musk can be for him, though it probably comes as a surprise to the both of you the first time he has an orgasm just huffing your armpit.

 -          After that time you both start experimenting a bit more, seeing if its just your scent or something else. This resorts to Conner wearing even more of your clothes, and at this point your wardrobes have just been completely mixed.

-          No one is surprised to see you two wear the others clothes, and no one is surprised to see Conner rubbing his face all over your neck, or to see hickeys and bitemarks all over your torso in the locker room.

-          Be prepared for the kryptonian libido, there is no mercy when you really get Conner going. You will be seeing God and wrung dry like an empty Juicebox, and he still wont be satiated.

-          That’s when its good to have some of your workout clothes or shirts you’ve worn all day laying around, as it helps Conner get off on his own as you catch a break so you can feel your legs again. It isn’t half bad watching him ride his toys with your shirt against this nose either, it really does something to your ego.

-          Afterwards you always cuddle, and Conner purrs even louder even though you cant hear it. He’s told you about it at some point, so you can feel its there in spirit. He’s like a space heater when you cuddle, so you never have to worry about being cold. It’s a nightmare during the summer though.

[whumpflump]

fears pt.1

(side note: this is my first time at trying to write anything in years, so this probably won’t be anything amazing. i am very nervous about posting this 😥. please be kind and give constructive criticism if you please. thank you for reading! let me know if you have any ideas for prompts.)

whumper wants to find out whumpee’s fears to use against them as a form of psychological torment,so they orchestrate different scenarios. will they be afraid of spiders? heights? darkness? small spaces? perhaps even dogs or other animals?

whumper will try different techniques to determine whumpee’s biggest fear, and they will find it. whumper always does.

they use this to force whumpee into submission, to sob and beg for whumper to please stop.

once whumper finds out this fear… that’s when the real fun begins.

whumper finds out whumpee is afraid of the ocean? they will sail out into the middle of the ocean,whumpee restrained whilst whumper grabs them by their hair and forces them to look out into the ocean while being taunted with the possibility of being thrown overboard.

whumper will taunt them about the possibility of being ripped apart, limb from limb or swallowed whole. will remind them of the vast unknown waters below. make them worry and plead for forgiveness. but whumper shows no mercy and either leaves with no response or leaves with some smartass response.

‘maybe the sharks will teach you a lesson, if you won’t do what you are told.’

[heliads]

Not sure if you write for Namor from MCU, but could you write Namor x Y/N Enemies to Lovers where Y/N is a Greek demigod who helps Namor after washing up injured and Namor pays them back by helping them deal with a monster? They’re enemies bc he still distrusts humans. Could Y/N also be a child of Hecate please?

had not seen wakanda forever but this request is so good that i specifically sought it out for you, anon. a+ job

masterlist

At this point, the man washing up on the shores of the sea isn’t even the strangest thing you’ve seen all day. Nor is he your chief concern. Normally, the boundary spells up around your city would keep out any intruders, unconscious men who might be soldiers be damned, but the boundary spells haven’t been working well as of late. That’s kind of why you’re here. 

You consider him for a while, his unmoving form, the weapons at his sides still softly clinking as the rolling surf pulls them together, then decide that this is so not your problem and leave. Men destroy themselves all the time. This one, although stranger than most, will either be able to sort himself out when he wakes or be far beyond the reach of your help.

This sort of sentiment would strike many as unkind, but to you, it is nothing uncommon. This is survival. It has never been pretty. It works as well as you let it, and one moment of mercy can spell your death in a second. Right now, you’re not just responsible for yourself, but your entire civilization as well. 

If you ask most scholars and historical enthusiasts, they’ll tell you that the lost city of Atlantis is a myth. Nothing real, just a bunch of old stories all tied together into one perplexing knot. The world loves disasters. The idea of a highly advanced Ancient Greek society sinking beneath the waves, all that knowledge and power gone forever, is highly corruptive. Some people spend their entire lives hunting down rabbit holes and paper trails to see if they could be the one to track it down, but in the end, no one actually wants to find Atlantis. The allure is in the impossibility.

You suppose that’s why they never managed it. Atlantis is somewhere out there, ripe for discovery, just as so many thrillseekers have envisioned. The only problem is that its inhabitants have absolutely no desire to be found, so no one has found it. You would know, you live there. In fact, you have lived there for a very long time. Not as long as the oldest; some of you have died by now, others have left, and many have been forgotten, but the stories of what it was like before you cut yourselves off from the world have been passed down for centuries, and you’ve heard and told most all of them.

The Atlantaens were in danger, that’s why you left the ancient world in the first place. Many scoff at the idea of the Ancient Greek pantheon today; so many gods and heroes and monsters, none of them kind, all of them doomed. We love to laugh at that which we do not understand, but the gods laugh at us for not believing, and then they damn us with curses and agents of destruction. The gods are real, all of them, and they do not take kindly to insults.

Over the course of time, while the Aegean Sea was settled and fought over, a certain kind of people tended to drift towards Atlantis. At first, the progression of its society was slow, but as rumors grew of its inhabitants, those who found they had more in common with the Atlantaens than their own people left their homes to find a true one. 

To put it plainly, Atlantis was home to the demigods, the ones chosen by the Fates for a higher purpose. Many Greeks went their whole lives without being called upon the gods. Others couldn’t have a good night’s sleep without being plagued by visions of future quests in their dreams. So much immortal attention attracted the ire of the Athenians, the Spartans, everyone. Out of fear for their lives and a desire for more, those of you touched by the Olympians went to Atlantis, and once there, you never wanted to leave.

For a while, this progression was fine. No one bothered you on Atlantis because they weren’t stupid enough to try and attack an island full of half-gods and heroes. During difficult times, though, when harvests weren’t bountiful and water supplies grew dry, it was easier for outsiders to blame the island of outcasts than their own city-states. Thieves started sneaking onto Atlantis, burning your crops before vanishing under the cover of night. Prized possessions went missing. Families were hurt.

Without a definable cause, infighting erupted between demigods. Old angers between godly parents renewed themselves among their children. Poseidon’s children swore destruction on Athena’s chosen scholars. Ares’ soldiers spit at the feet of any tinkerer of Hephaestus who crossed their path.

Eventually, it became clear to the island leaders that drastic changes had to be made before the island tore itself apart. The demigods never attacked each other before things started turning sour, so the enemy was obviously the outsiders. To solve the crisis, the strongest of the demigods turned to the gods for help, and for once, they answered. Atlantis was cast away from the rest of the city-states, veiled from mortal eyes and dragged further into the Mediterranean Sea. You still had all the resources you needed from your island, you just weren’t hurt by the mortals.

Thus life carried on for centuries. Your art and achievements continued to expand at a breakneck pace. You lived longer, accomplished more. The gods smiled upon you. Your island was huge, your society could flourish without being impeded by the limits of your land. It became clear that the bad times had ended.

Or, they had, and then the first monster showed up. Without constant invaders, the art of fighting had somewhat fallen out of fashion. Ares’ descendants would never allow it to die completely, but it had become almost archaic. The monster was eventually slain, but it sparked fear into the hearts of the Atlantaens, and made everyone realize that they weren’t invulnerable.

The people of Atlantis responded in two separate ways. Some flung themselves before their temples, praying to the gods to deliver them again. They waited in their homes for an inevitable second attack, shaking and scared. Others, like you, realized that the only ones who would save you would be yourselves. The gods respond to insult; they removed Atlantis from the mortals because their offerings were constantly raided. One monster on an island of many is not worth their concern. It is up to you to protect your people.

You have two ways of saving your island. One is through the sword. The other is with your spells. Your mother, Hecate, often visits her children in dreams to instruct them in the magical arts. You’ve learned many spells and incantations, and they’ve come in handy as more and more monsters appear. You can only hope that they will be enough to continue the defense of the island. It seems as if the attacks will never end.

And, chillingly, perhaps they never will. You and your fellow demigods, the ones that decided to fight back instead of waiting for a salvation that will never come, have made a plan to save yourselves. Part of that involves regular patrols and expeditions to the outermost reaches of the island to kill any monster that crosses your path. You have enchanted swords at the ready, plus half a dozen defensive spells burning under your fingertips. This is not the time at which you die. 

You have enjoyed many patrols over the past few years, but today, your veins are thrumming with adrenaline even more than at the start. You know something is out there. A couple of farmers turned up with bloody livestock, scared of something poaching their animals. Scales and talons have been found. If you’re right— and let’s be honest, you really don’t want to be— you’ve got a Hydra on your hands. 

That’s bad news. The monsters were small at the start; a lesser scourge here and there, a malevolent spirit, and then they got bigger. A harpy. A medium sized giant. If you’re getting hydras— well, maybe you’ll have to make some good offerings to the gods in addition to your regular training. Some divine protection couldn’t hurt at a time like this. 

That’s why you can’t afford to worry about a man passed out on your shores, not yet. Yes, he is a problem, a definitive sign that the godly interference that should be protecting Atlantis has started to slacken, but you can deal with him after you kill the hydra that’s after both of you. Always the monster you know, right? Or the monster you know is lurking in the undergrowth, ready to slaughter you and your entire island. 

You had planned on coming back for the guy, sure, but maybe his unconscious body doesn’t believe that, because you’ve hardly taken ten steps past his fallen form when he suddenly jerks to life. It’s like reanimating a corpse, how he moves; from nothing to everything all at once. His eyes go wide, and he gasps desperately for air, one hand reaching to his throat. Strangely enough, he doesn’t choke out water, but blood, a few scarlet mouthfuls before he lies on his back once more, twitching into stillness. 

You peer back over at him. Not dead yet, his chest still rises and falls with desperate breaths. It would be smart to carry on your path and only check in with this man when you’re sure a monster won’t lunge at you out of the surrounding trees the second you turn your back, but he’s spotted you already. One hand reaches out towards you, trembling, from where he lies in the surf.

He starts to open his mouth, and you silently prepare yourself for some sort of desperate plea, a call for aid. Instead, you’re surprised when all the man says is, “Were you really going to leave me to die here?”

You blink at him. “I thought you were already dead.”

He has the audacity to frown at you. “I would have died if I needed help and you didn’t provide it.”

You can’t believe he’s washed up on your island– you know, the unfindable one– and has the nerve to question your hospitality. “Same difference.”

“Not to me,” he harrumphes, and starts to sit up. So he really isn’t dead. If he isn’t dying, though, that means it actually is your duty to help him. You’re more of a soldier than a nurse, so he’d better not have any broken limbs. Seeing as you really have no choice, you bite back a bitter groan and help him at last. He eyes you distrustfully, but lets you drag him farther from the tide. You had intended to prop him up against a tree or something, but he protests when he gets too far from the water, so you settle for a smooth boulder close enough to the surf that the waves still crash over his feet.

Strangely enough, the water seems to be helping him heal. You can see the ghosts of scars criss crossing his chest, but they don’t appear to be old wounds. Instead, they might be recent. 

You squint at him. “Do you have enhanced healing?”

“And strength,” he adds. “I wouldn’t recommend trying to kill me. You would die before you got the chance.”

If this is how strangers act when you try to help them, you’re not surprised that the ancient Atlantaens asked the gods to cordon off their island. “I could tell you the same thing. Keep your hands where I can see them.”

He regards you for a second. “Why should I do what you tell me? I don’t bow to strangers.”

“Neither do I,” you force out through gritted teeth, “and right now, you’re on my land, so I suggest you learn to scrape at least a little bit.”

He narrows his eyes. The salty sea air blows his dark hair against his face, revealing more of the ornate jewelry around his neck. It looks ancient, perhaps even as old as your society. Although you’d like nothing more than for him to hurry off of Atlantis, you can’t help your curiosity and open your mouth to ask about it.

You’re cut off before you get the chance. The man doubles over all of a sudden, hands flying to his throat once more. Now that you’ve moved him farther away from the ocean, you have a better look at his wounds, and although they’re healing quickly, they look severe. Severe enough to kill him even with advanced health.

Swearing, you raise your hands and begin chanting. Healing spells have become increasingly useful as of late; Hecate’s children learn at least one before they're even knee height, and you’ve had plenty of chances to practice these sorts of incantations thanks to the sudden surge of monster attacks.

Tendrils of magic fly from your hands and wrap around the man. The spells target the injuries across his chest, his heart, his throat, and strangely enough, a few fly down to one of his ankles, repairing a set of wings above his feet. You chant until your throat goes hoarse, until he stops choking, until his breathing settles. Only then do you lower your hands, and wait there in terrible transience, waiting for him to say something.

At last, slowly, incredulously, he does. “What did you do?”

“I saved your life,” you say.

He nods. “I know. With magic?”

You incline your head. He ponders this for a moment longer, then extends a hand towards you. “My name is Namor.”

You stare at his outstretched palm, then take it. “I’m Y/N. Welcome to Atlantis.���

He doesn’t believe you at first. It appears that the rumors of Atlantis’ disappearance are more widespread than you thought if they’ve managed to reach an underwater Mesoamerican city across the world. Namor believes you soon enough, though, especially when he’s gathered his strength enough for you to lead him up a rocky cliff so he can see the majesty of your island sprawling out before him. 

The sight stuns even you, with your years of remembering it, so you’re pleased to see that Namor looks appropriately stupefied. Atlantis is a marvel; crisscrossing colonnades, magnificent gardens, marble roofs shining in the sun, temples to so many gods and goddesses that even you can’t remember them all. Children run laughing in the streets, and their parents chastise them or smile at the fun they’re having. A flock of university students chatter on their way to class. Soldiers practice in an open training yard, and the clash of bronze echoes such that you can hear it even here, on the very outskirts of the island.

“This is your home?” He asks.

You smile. “It is.”

“Why were you all the way out here, then?” Namor queries, “If not looking for dying men to ignore?”

You roll your eyes. “I saved you eventually, didn’t I?”

He laughs. “Only when I asked you to. Some would call that heartless.”

You arch a brow. “Would you?”

He takes a step closer to you. “No,” he says at last, “I don’t think I would.”

You breathe out evenly and then, to hide the sudden pressure between your ribs, change the subject. “How did you come here, Namor? Our island is under enchantment to hide us from the rest of the world. You never should have been able to come here, especially not since it’s so far from where you were.”

Namor sighs. “I don’t know. I was returning home with my people after a truce with the Wakandans. We were attacked on the way by something, some sort of monster. I don’t know what it was. We managed to kill it, but while I was leading it away from our home, it struck me through the chest. I must have lost consciousness after I struck the killing blow, and then I woke up here.”

This makes worry tie up your stomach in tight knots. “A monster?”

You look back towards your shining city. Everyone seems to be happy and carefree right now, but if your monsters are cropping up in other parts of the world– if you cannot protect yourselves, not even if you had to run from Atlantis– there is no telling how long any of you could survive, especially not if the monsters keep getting bigger.

Namor lays a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Is everything alright, Y/N?”

“No,” you say firmly, “It’s not. Our peace has been shattered as of late. More and more monsters show up on our borders. I was out here to find another one that’s been spotted recently, a hydra. Even if I kill this one, though, it’ll be replaced by two more the next day. They never stop coming.”

The look in Namor’s eyes is soft, understanding. He knows what it’s like to feel as if you cannot keep your own people safe. “I will seek out this hydra with you. I have to go back to Talokan soon, but you have my word to return whenever you need help.”

You regard him questioningly. “Why would you make such a promise? We only just met.”

He lifts a shoulder. “You saved my life, I owe you a debt. Besides, we only have so many places free of humans left in the world. We should protect each other when we can.”

You smile, then decide to tease him a little more. “You know I’m half human, right?”

He feigns disgust. “I will only help half of your city, then.”

You laugh. “And kill half the hydra? That’s ridiculous.”

“No more than someone only being half immortal,” he points out. “How does that even work?”

You grin. “I try not to think about it.”

He matches your pleased expression. “Then I won’t, either.”

And so your daily patrol is joined by a feathered serpent god. The two of you stalk silently through the forests on the outskirts of Atlantis, marking signs of heavy travel. Intent on your prey, you manage to locate it with a combination of your spells and his experience. Killing the hydra is difficult, obviously; Tartarus does not make its monsters without wanting them to be impervious to most attacks, but when the dust settles, both of you are still alive and without too much damage. The same cannot be said for the dead monster, so a win’s a win.

The two of you stand there for a moment longer, weapons in hand, and then Namor slowly, remorsefully lifts his gaze from the dead hydra to look at you. “It’s time for me to go,” he says softly, “Talokan will be expecting me. They will wonder why I have not returned. I cannot afford for them to attack Wakanda again out of some nonexistent threat to their leader.”

“I understand,” you reply. You don’t like it, though. Not nearly as much as you would have liked it when you first found him on your shores.

“I should go,” he repeats, but his weapons are gone from his hands and he’s striding towards you, closing the distance in a breath, kissing you.

“You should go,” you tell him, but his hands are on your hips and you don’t want him to let go, not now, and certainly not to a city across the sea.

“I should–” Namor begins, but you interrupt him to kiss him again. His fingers curl against your sides, and you know for certain that he wants to leave just about as you want him to.

He does force himself away eventually. Both of you understand that there is and will always be something greater than the two of you at stake. Neither of you are just a person, just a god; the fate of your homes is far more pressing than any personal want. Still, when you walk back with him to the ocean and watch him disappear beneath the glimmering blue of the waves, you know that you’ll regret every lost moment.

Still, there is hope that you might see him again. He told you how to find Talokan, and Namor is familiar with Atlantis now. You could find each other again, frame it as a need for your countries to have diplomatic relations. You could be happy again. It might take time, but it could happen. You, for one, will be counting down the days until then.

marvel tag list: @mayfieldss, @rogueanschel, @mycosmicparadise, @ellobruv, @callsign-scully, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @eclliipsed, @23victoria, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @gods-fools-heroes, @w1shes43, @deafsuperhero, @fadedver, @alex-1967s-blog, @crazyhearttragedy

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[navvyu]

AN: thank you for requesting! i personally agree, hope i did good at writing this it was a bit hard bc its my first time writing yandere. sorry if its wonky =＾● ⋏ ●＾= ALSO IM SO SORRY FOR HIS COMING OUT LATE :,) (i would like to mention that i worked on this fic almost entirely at school too lmao)

Housewardens with a yandere! male! reader

*not beta read

Warnings: implied stalking, implied murder/violence, creepy behavior(?), kidnapping (all by reader)

Includes: Riddle, Leona, Azul, Klaim, Vil, Idia, Malleus

Riddle

 Would at first suspect nothing, simply thinking that his students are finally learning the queen of hearts rules

He would start to suspect something wrong when  some of his more… pushy students went missing (not to mention that the pain used to paint the roses seemed thicker as of late…)

Riddle would become weary when he started feeling eyes on him at all times

He would go for a  walk in the rose maze to attempt to clear his head, an easy mistake really

Would attempt to cause you physical harm in attempt to get away, he tried multiple times to escape all in different methods (but still ending horribly) 

After trying to escape far to many times, he would still hate you with all his heart but he would just push through silently hoping that somebody would save him

“You're far too horrible to be called human, You're nothing but a disgraceful monster. You should be ashamed.”

Leona

At first, leona would enjoy that people had started leaving him alone

But when ruggie started avoiding him, he became suspicious

Would have trouble sleeping because he cloud feel somebody watching him

since he is often alone, sleeping it was easy to 'capture' him

Often tries to escape, will bite

hates you and will vocalize it to you no qualms about it

He tries to use his magic to kill you along with trying to use his brute strength to try and harm you

once he find physical violence doesn't swade you, he will try to degrade you

may try to harm himself to manipulate you to letting him go

after awhile he'll just sit and growl at you but not actually do anything

"You're horrible. i never want to see you again."

Azul

 Starting off, if Azul noticed your obsession with him he would attempt to rope you into a deal, trying to use your favorability to persuade you

If he didn't notice your obsession he probably would either just dismiss you or not give you much thought

But Azul would quickly notice the change in attitude of everyone, his clients who had originally refused begging for him to let them reconsider, workers of mostro lounge being on higher performance, the leech twins being more ‘mellowed out’, though he appreciated it all it still made him a bit suspicious

When decided to finally investigate, he was completely alone without any protection, stupid honestly

Would try to use his ‘benevolence’ to persuade you to let him go, but that obviously didn't work

Once he found that it was futile to try and trick you he would resort to physical means to escape

He attempted to trick you again, trying to convince you that he loved you and he was trustworthy but again, he failed miserably

At some point he’ll just get used to it and he’ll shut up

“Please let me go, you love me don't you? How could a man like you be so cruel to his one and only?”

Kalim

 Would almost immediately notice the small changes in everything but wouldn't know the cause.

Kalim after a while of people refusing his party invites, hangouts, and other social events, Kalim might start to believe that people were growing to dislike him…

That doubt started to turn into worry when Jamil when missing, seemingly out of nowhere

Now with Kalim being alone most times, it was easier to knock him out

When he woke up, he almost immediately knew he was kidnapped. Not the first time its happened after all…

May try and beg for your mercy or to let him go bt in the end he knew it was futile

He ended up simply accepting his situation and gave up almost all hope, aside from trying to escape every time he had the chance to

“Why would you do this? I trusted you…”

Vil

 Might notice your “creepy” behavior if you show it openly

Vil began noticing that a few things were changing, how rook seemed to avoid him, epel being more obedient and so on

Was pleased at first but it quickly became concert and worry

As he paced in his room attempting to connect the dots to what was happening, it gives you a clear window to take him while he’s distracted <3

When he first ‘disappeared’ there were tons, thousand, millions even of people looking for him, if you successfully hide him though it should be to much of a rock in the road

Vil would attempt to escape, or even try to poison you on multiple occasions along with heavy degradation

They all ended in futility of course , but he’s still stubborn as ever

“You’re disgusting… How could you do this? Any other man would have treated me better.”

Idia

 honestly he’s probably the easiest to have as your target

All you have to do i earn his trust and ortho’s trust and you’ll basically be set

Idia wouldn't notice anything to out of the ordinary, aside from some of his gaming friends not messaging him, nothing was amiss

Since Idia doesn't often go outside of his room it was easy to keep him ‘’trapped’ there

Though Idia might be a little down he’ll appreciate your company

But when you he a little but clingy he might think somethings suspicious but he’ll brush past it, excusing it has him not being to connected to ‘normie culture’

If he notices that you’re not letting him interact with others or the outside world he might try to get Ortho to search up if its weird or not

When Ortho says its odd behavior he might try to push away form you but he couldn't bring himself to fully commit to it

Overall, either won't notice or will simply brush it off

“Hey wanna join me on this RPG? I think you might like this new charter, he kinda acts like you ya know?”

Malleus

 Would also probably not notice that the behavior is considered weird, simply thinking that it's a human custom

May find your obsessive nature endearing, thinking that you just like him alot

Since nobody really even came near him it was easy to keep most potential rivals away

Once the diasmonia group seemed to push away form Malleus he of course became upset that the people he considered family were leaving him

But at least he has you!

Malleus may think that the sudden abandonment is unnatural and may try to dig deeper into what's going on but he wont find much

May at his own will just stay at an arm's length away because he's scared of losing you

“Please don't leave me, I don't think I could take it…”

[thewhumpcaretaker]

𖤓 𝐎𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐧 𖤓

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Summary: How did Helen become the kind of person who can accept a killer? How did her love become so unconditional? It wasn't as simple as you might expect. The path towards light was paved with darkness.

TW: Being orphaned. Brief mention of Helen's first kiss in middle school (do not make this sexy, she's a minor). Severe physical and emotional child abuse and neglect. Scapegoat abuse (abuse of one family member who is blamed for all problems in the family). Murder of a minor by a parent. Survivor's guilt. Self hatred. Dead Dove Do Not Eat.

Author's Note: This is the backstory that I envisioned for Helen while writing The Broken Veil. It's based on the fact that John never interacts with her family and they don't appear to be at her funeral, which leads me to believe that she is estranged from them. But, this is mostly invented from thin air - with some projecting and venting. I haven't been through anything as horrific as this, but I'll just say that I do relate to Helen's experience of family abuse in a certain way. My hope is that I've handled this very delicate topic with some grace, but please know that I am writing it from an emotional place and I am not a therapist or social worker.

──●𖤓●──

At the dawn of her life, there was love.

It was simple then. Pure. Unquestioned and easy to understand. Not only because the two figures always at her side were so unquestionably affectionate, but because loving came naturally to Helen herself. She was the baby who always laughed when her parents laughed, and smiled when they smiled. And they nearly always smiled, because they had Helen, and she had them.

Then they were gone.

──●𖤓●──

Love haunted the suburban McMansion at the outskirts of St. Louis, Missouri, with the white clapboard walls and yellow trim. It found its way between the thin curtains in Helen’s bedroom, where she caught it in her arms every morning and carried it downstairs to her sister, Bonnie, whose bedroom was windowless.

Bonnie was adopted a year after Helen, and she was two years younger. The Kennedys had a perfect family in mind: two daughters, and a son, all “rescued,” as evidence of their unimpeachable benevolence. But they were denied for a third child. One of Mr. Kennedy’s references advised against approval, and his response was so disorderly with outrage that the situation could not be salvaged. Although they tried again several times, they were never approved. Mr. Kennedy never found out who had thwarted him in obtaining a son, but Helen and Bonnie would be forever grateful to them.

It wasn’t that they wouldn’t have wanted a brother. On the contrary, another person in the house who was not either of their parents would have been a massive relief, and Helen begged for it at the time. But in retrospect, they could not wish that on anyone.

Helen, despite being older, didn’t understand at first. The Kennedys were sweet to her. Mrs. Kennedy told her that she was the most important thing in the world to them. Mr. Kennedy held her on his lap and told her about the nature of love. That love is a dance between merciful grace, and benevolent punishment. Love is about doing what is best for someone, always. And they would always do what was best for their children.

Bonnie was not typically punished in front of her, and she was such a boisterously happy child that she was able to hide her distress, both at school and from her sister. Her disposition matched Helen’s perfectly – playful, creative, giving, always eager to smooth over a social interaction. They did everything together. They played pretend on the “mountain” (the staircase leading up to the deck), went racing on their skateboards, searched for birds’ nests in every neighborhood tree and stared at them to try to catch one hatching. They laid on the lawn making flower crowns and talking about what they wanted to be when they grew up. Bonnie wanted to be a racecar driver and go far, far away. Helen wanted to be a veterinarian taking care of baby birds. But they would definitely go to the same college. They’d be together forever, because even though they weren’t born together, their hearts were made of the same substance.

The difference between them was that Bonnie was more secretive. She had to be.

But over time, the household became comfortable in its abuse. Bonnie was a trouble child, Mrs. Kennedy would explain. That was why they had to treat her this way. When the parents fought, it was somehow Bonnie’s fault. When things went wrong for them, it was because Bonnie was bringing them bad luck. Everything went wrong after she arrived. They should have adopted a little boy first instead, and now they’d never have one.

Bonnie and Helen would do the exact same thing, often together, and Bonnie would be punished, and Helen…wouldn’t. She couldn’t understand it. Soap in her mouth for talking back. No dinner for a week. One day, when Helen was nine, Mr. Kennedy sat down at Bonnie’s door with a screwdriver and started taking off the hinges. “She’s been keeping secrets from me,” he said. He’d found her diary. That evening, Mrs. Kennedy read it aloud in front of both children while Bonnie wept.

“Why do they love Helen and not me? Sometimes I hate her for it, but it’s not her fault. I know why. I try to be good but I’m a bad child.” That line would live in Helen’s memory forever. She rushed at Mr. Kennedy, not knowing what she intended to do. But the situation had become untenable. Why wasn’t Mrs. Kennedy upset about this? Why wasn’t Bonnie fighting back? Something had to be done, and nothing was being done.

But it backfired utterly. “Look what you have made your sister do,” he said to Bonnie, when Helen had spent her strength beating her little fists against his legs. And Helen watched, and learned where the bruises on her sister’s body came from, that she didn’t fall out of trees as often as she claimed. From that day, she ceased to call him her father. Mr. Kennedy was his name.

When it was over, Bonnie wasn’t allowed outside. So Helen made flower crowns alone and brought her one. “You can hate me if you want, Bonnie. I’ll love you anyway.”

“Throw it out,” she whispered. “They’ll think I snuck into the backyard if they see it.” But she held it for a moment first. “I don’t really hate you, Helen. I won’t, ever. I promise.”

──●𖤓●──

Helen soaked up love for one brilliant hour every day at Azalea Middle School’s lunchtime, her face turned upward and her heart temporarily at peace. She talked about love with her best friends. She kissed Susie Morgan, as practice for kissing boys. She kissed Robbie Clearwater, as the real deal, but it didn’t feel any more or less real if she had to be honest. It was all play acting. Real love was about doing something big for somebody, like rescuing them from a dragon or stabbing yourself like Juliet. Or staying with them after they stabbed somebody else.

Susie and Robbie were both “good kids.” Not trouble kids. Not like Bonnie and her friends. Bonnie had already given up on herself – if her parents thought she was trouble, then fine, she’d be trouble. She started hanging out with the bottom of the class, the ones who got in fights and skipped lessons. Helen decided that she would never be like Bonnie.

But it was the trouble kids that Helen really wanted to be around. Like Brandon “Blaze” Raoul, who smoked weed with the 9th graders from across the street. She heard he actually aced the math test in spite of everything, and decided he had a heart of gold. But she’d never admit it.

Bonnie dumped her lunch tray over Helen’s blouse while she was looking at him one day, and Helen chased her all the way across the playground. She didn’t stop until Helen yelled, “I’m telling Mr. Kennedy!” The hurt and fury etched into her face would remain etched in Helen’s mind from the rest of her life.

But it was Bonnie who told Mr. Kennedy that Helen liked a bad boy. Or rather, it was Bonnie who took all that practice stealing Marlboros from the gas station to steal a blunt out of Brandon’s bag and stick it in Helen’s, only to encourage her father to search their backpacks that night. She looked all too smug, watching Helen take the brunt of the punishment for once. And the Kennedys made the decision that both girls would be transferring schools.

“You know, you really are what they say,” she shouted at Bonnie through tears that night. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! You’re spiteful and ungrateful and you always mess things up for me! I wish you weren’t here!”

“I’ve hated you for years, Helen! My personal hell! I hope your perfect face gets smashed in! I hope Mr. Kennedy really does the shit he says he’ll do sometimes!”

──●𖤓●──

Helen couldn’t find love for a couple years at a stretch. Where had it gone? Was it hidden behind the clouds? It always seemed to be raining in Missouri. Was it buried inside her body? Her body seemed to physically ache. Sometimes she felt like she was dying.

The only way she expressed herself anymore was by taking pictures. She asked for a camera for her sixteenth birthday, and of course, she got it. And she took pictures of people, almost exclusively. She didn’t speak to Bonnie kindly, but she photographed her kindly. She chose those moments in which Bonnie looked almost the way she did years ago, before things got really bad.

Whose fault was it? She thought about that a lot, even before it happened. So much had already happened. More than enough. And there was a sense of something coming. Why did Bonnie have to ruin everything? Bonnie’s torment was always at the edges of her mind, spoiling every happy moment. And while that shouldn’t be about herself, Helen was tired. Tired of trying to be the high achiever to maintain her own tenuous hold on her parents’ mercy. Tired of protecting Bonnie, tired of fighting with her, tired of pitying her. Tired of wracking her brain about who she could tell and how she could get help for them without just making things worse. Tired of watching her be hurt and feeling that pain in her own heart. So she hardened her heart until it ached physically instead of emotionally. Let Bonnie deal with it on her own. She didn’t want Helen around anyway. Maybe she’d finally run away for good.

In the last few years of high school, Helen started having chest pain. Panic attacks, she would later learn. She felt like she was going to die. What was happening with Bonnie was going to kill her. And wrong as it may be, she hated Bonnie for that.

She had left for college when it happened. She got out the moment she could, as anyone might. Bonnie would be out soon enough too, she thought. There was nothing she could have done, no way she could have known. That’s what she told herself afterwards, and she never believed it.

The facts: Bonnie Kennedy tried to run away with a group of friends she met outside of school. With a gang. Mrs. Kennedy intercepted her and brought her home against her will, by binding her hands and feet with duct tape and forcing her into the back of the vehicle.

The facts: Mr. and Mrs. Kennedy had just had a fight the same week. Mrs. Kennedy was sleeping on the couch. They needed someone to take out their anger on.

The facts: On September 20th, while Helen Kennedy was in a chemistry lecture, Bonnie Kennedy was murdered by her father under her mother’s watch. The neighbors filed a noise complaint. Mr. and Mrs. Kennedy were apprehended and taken into police custody three days later.

──●𖤓●──

The ache of Helen’s love did not kill her. She lay on her dorm bed that night in the darkness, waiting for her heart to stop. It never did.

The only thing Mrs. Kennedy had to say was, “Don’t testify. Don’t do this to him. Are you really going to side against your own father?”

Helen scoffed. “Against him? What about you? Do you think you’re blameless?”

A long pause while they stared at each other through bulletproof glass. “No one is blameless here. But –“

“No. No one is blameless.”

She did not speak to Mr. Kennedy at all.

She spoke to the judge. She spoke for hours and hours in a cold sweat, in a trance, revealing everything. She spoke until she went hoarse. She spoke again when the trial dragged on into a second day. She spoke at the appeal. She spoke until she expected to be arrested herself because the fact that she had stood by through all of it, and hadn’t been there to save Bonnie, was a crime beyond all crimes. Why was no one dragging her away? Regardless, she kept speaking. She was saying, I love you, Bonnie. I love you, my sister.

──●𖤓●──

The ache of love didn’t kill Helen, but it chased her out of Missouri, all the way to the East Coast. When she put the pieces of herself back together and returned to college, it was at Georgetown, on a scholarship. Apparently, a sob story that had been on the news was good for admissions essays. Especially when it tied right into your major.

She studied to be a social worker. She screamed her love for Bonnie at the whole world. Bonnie, who was gone, and could not receive it. Helen opened herself and poured love. She cried with abuse survivors. She testified on their behalf. She watched them be saved. She watched the system fail them. She watched them become hateful. She watched them die. Over and over and over and over until her mind broke.

And she screamed her love for her parents. Yes, her love for her father. For her mother. For the woman who had treated love as the most important thing in the world – which is to say that she let her lover commit any crime. For the man who had sat her on his knee and told her lies about what love was, because he believed those lies and knew no better. She was finally old enough to understand what broken people they were, and yet her love for them had become forbidden. Unthinkable. Forgiveness would never be hers to extend. They had taken her right to love them when they committed such an act. Well, so be it. She would take the grief aching in her chest and throw it at the entire rest of the world instead. She would love EVERYONE.

She tried to be a “good” person, to love all survivors and hate all abusers. Except that the abusers were also survivors, and the survivors were also abusers. And she didn’t know which she was, but it seemed that she could only be both. Everyone hurt everyone else, it seemed. Everyone failed to protect each other. Did that not matter to anyone? Where was the sense of injustice? She came to hate EVERYONE.

For ten years, Helen served as a social worker with child protective services. Ten years screaming, until she finally burnt out.

She’d been to therapy before. But this was different. This was quitting her job to burn through her savings going to daily sessions because something had to give, and it was either going to be her way of life or her life itself.

They talked mostly about grief, which was to say that they talked mostly about love. Were her parents capable of love? Was she capable of love? Why had she and Bonnie turned on each other, and did it mean they didn’t really love each other? What did real love look like? They talked about that phrase, “love is a dance between merciful grace, and benevolent punishment.” How did one decide who to punish, and who deserved mercy? Who could be trusted with such a decision?

Maybe no one. Maybe the punishment part just had to go.

So she let herself be like Bonnie. She traveled up and down the coast, through Baltimore, through Philadelphia, always seeking out the underbelly, never into drugs but heavily into people. Hanging out with hippies and “free love” types. Cutting her hair short. Talking with runaways. Singing with strangers at midnight in a half dead karaoke bar. She wore leather jackets over soft white T-shirts. Never trying to look tough, never trying to look "cool", but demonstrating with her very body that she embraced them. That she wouldn’t jump down anyone’s throat for making a mistake or being themselves. What a “bad girl.” What a “troublemaker.” I’m sorry, Bonnie.

She fell in with genuine criminals too. It was odd, but she felt safe with them, in a way she had never felt safe with suburbanites who wanted perfection and punished anything less. There were some with their boot on the world’s throat, sure, but there were plenty more who had no choice. Who were running from something, or stuck in something, or just trying to survive. And all the judgement in Helen was used up on her parents. There was none left for the rest of the world. She just wanted to see people, know people. The camera came out again. Taking pictures of survivors, people who had suffered so much and caused so much suffering. People who believed they held no capacity for love. She showed them their own bodies, the vessels of that love where it still lay dormant.

──●𖤓●──

Love poured down from an infinite, flaming source, to wash over every human being and flow, finally, into the lens. Seeking an object, any object, whoever needed it the most. Over and over and over again, unquestioningly, unconditionally, until Helen began to heal. She felt poised for something, waiting for someone to receive her outpouring. It was then that the second phase of Helen’s life began. It was then that the sun broke through.