#i will get thicker skin one day lol

[fairycosmos]

SO crazy i submitted a document to a client and they gave me some positive feedback and then my boss was like you need to tell her why it’s shit so she knows what not to do in the future. now i understand the concept of critical feedback i ❤️ critical feedback but i feel like that was so unnecessary - the client was happy BITCH!!! die forever

[cryptfile]

Ꮺ˖˚₊ leeches, [ logan howlett x vampire!reader au ]

summary — logan howlett lacks of patience (and he can also be a nice little blood-bag while losing his temper). 8k+

warnings — 18+ mdni, fem!reader implied, blood kink (keep in mind you’re a vampire! not twilight but more of a true blood kind?) downright filth im sorry, dead dove do not eat, smoker!reader, endless tension, manhandling, praise kink, kind of porn without plot (LIES CAUSE IT HAS ONE THO??) my boy's into paaaaaain can't help it it's canon, age-gap at first (reader is her 20's but again, vampire), public sex (it just happened), daily reminder to wrap it before you tap it, p in v, choking, filthy mouth, pet names.

side notes — thought this could take place after days of the future past? au cause why nottttt ,,currently on ovulation season so bare with me,,, been a little mia cause i’m surviving aka going through the worst semester of my life at uni? internships are breaking my ass currently so well, here i am just existing, also, english’s not my first language and everyday i’m grateful for it, so any mistakes i’m not sorry in advance lol i’m also too lazy to correct once published,, feel free to send more logan requests since i've basically been a slut for him for a while now (i'm rotting in hell).

He could swear the mansion got ten degrees hotter when you came in.

It’s inevitable. It’s this thing you carry, the way you move — Graceful, elegant, almost compelling as the air fills the room. It’s not public knowledge that you’re not a mutant itself, yet you’re presented like one, like you have healing factors and age painfully slow, but human after all, a subtle lie, one that can harm no one.

It’s safe to say you catch his attention in the most annoying way: How couldn’t you? All you do is this weird seduction he’s appealed to, whether you’re conscious or not it’s just captivating, an invisible force that even when you ignore it is there, there waiting for the perfect moment to flood every time you happen to be in the same room.

Captivating. That’s the word.

The room becomes smaller after, the air grows thicker, and it’s almost like a ticking bomb, the way you wouldn’t even look at his face while he’s noticeable pinning after Jean Grey, the mystery that surrounds you and he cannot seem to resolve no matter how much time he puts into it.

It’s like he's the plague. You don’t really try to exchange more than just a few words, only when it's needed and you cannot avoid him any longer, and he didn’t say anything at first, keeping his distance too cause he don’t see how you’d become friends, cause after all, what he could have in common with a girl that doesn't surpass the twenty years?

But soon he's upset about it, even when he doesn't really say anything out loud, it's a spike he cannot reach under his skin. You seem to become friends with anyone but him, mutant kids in your history lessons, the rest of the team, even the damn mailman when he delivered a package — You'd say hello like it's a long time lover or so, greeting people like they mean the world to you.

He has students now that are asking for a transfer from his class to yours cause it seems you're fun to be around, more like he is, and he fucking hates it.

It's fair to say it's been getting into his mind lately. That thing you do with your hair, twisting it in your index finger on a lock as you speak, the subtle red glow in your eyes he always catches by mistake, not enough fast to stop looking at you, pretending he didn't even see in your direction at first.

Tension. Logan just happens to hate tension.

In fact. He's almost sure your problem is personal, that you might hate him enough to act like he didn't exist at all, enough to avoid him like he was not there.

That's why it's just so weird.

When he finds himself walking down the hallway to the kitchen and he smells this cherry-scented aroma that settles under his nostrils, he changes the direction he's walking to, to instead, follow the path to the person that was silently smoking outside. Hiding. Maybe, a student he'll have to scold like the old man he was turning into.

No smoking in the mansion!

However, as the night is just settling, he doesn't recognize a little mutant, but instead happens to recognize you in the middle of the gardens of the mansion, close to the maze; escaping the comfort of the inside to enjoy a self-rolled cherry tobacco he has smelled before in the air. He's a victim mostly, cause his legs move on it's own as his mouth go dry, approaching you in silence.

"What do you want?" you ask when he's halfway there. And your tone is just cold as ever, not an ounce of feeling as he contemplates your side profile, the way the tobacco sticks out of your parted lips, seated on a bench hidden between bushes and trees — "Is Scott bitching about the smell going into the mansion already?"

No. He's not. But he doesn't have enough reasons to explain exactly why he's outside if you asked, why, all of sudden, he followed the scent of cherry knowing it was you the only one who carried a colts package in the pocket of every single jacket you wore, constantly asking Storm if she could hold on to the bag of filters for you while you rolled in the worst moments.

It's distracting, to say the least.

"Yeah," he quickly says, lying cause in reality he hasn't seen the guy in the whole day, yet it sounds like something he would say. "Do you happen to have another one of those to share?"

You don't talk much, hand reaching his as you offered him from your tobacco without a single word, the same that was placed between your lips and now was on his in what seemed to be something more intimate than what he'd like to admit, the cherry taste filling his lungs as they weirdly enough, shared a cig.

"Aren't you too young to be smoking?"

You laugh, and the sound sends a shiver down his spine cause he has never heard a sound quite like it, nothing that resembles that throaty, raspy sound that came out of your lips in amusement thanks to his words. He, out of all people, has never seen you like that — "And how old you think I am?"

He seems to think about it for a second, carefully picking his next words. Logan knows that women and their age are a tricky thing, you cannot say a number that's too compromising, nor act stupid and say something that's clearly not correct — "Not a day over twenty-two."

The answer pleases you, and he just knows he's wrong, but you don't seem bothered by it, instead, you nod pretending he's right, like he just got the answer right away.

He can see why everyone's switching classes now. Cheeky bastards.

"Twenty-two is not young at all, but i'm twenty-seven though," you say, and he scoffs at the statement, seeking for any change in your heartbeat, any sign of a lie. The strange thing happens when he cannot pick any heart at all, any sign of pulse.

"You are pretty young still," he says, against his age, you’re just starting out living—. "You don't look like you are twenty-seven at all."

"Cause I age slower than the rest," it's a practiced lie. One you know from repeating the same explanation over and over again, the priced answer of why you haven't changed a single bit in the past few years and made you a mutant — "I never looked my age."

Such a fucking liar. He doesn't need any heartbeats to confirm it cause deep down you are a terrible actress, he can see it so clear, how you're calculating every answer, thinking about the correct thing to say, the normal thing to say.

"Is that your thing?" he asks, playing pretend almost as bad as you do. Tilting his head to the side as he questions you — "Age slowly?"

"I have healing powers," you explain as he tossed you the joint once again. "My saliva kinds of help healing wounds. It's pretty boring."

"Boring" Logan repeats. The word itself sounds so damn fun in your lips it's contradicting. "That doesn’t sound really boring."

There's a moment of silence after that. Where you smoke in silence taking in the taste of the cherry, and he is having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that your lips also touched the side of the cigar he was smoking before, the plain lies you've been repeating over and over the last ten minutes.

It's almost infuriating. Makes his blood boil without question, he surely endures your treatment of silence, but being lied to? That's a whole different level.

“How old are you, kid?”

Your brows furrow in response, a clueless face. You are pulling out this show once again Logan don’t buy for a damn second. Something about the scrunch in your nose, the way you dismissed your own powers as if they weren’t enough. He knows it’s all a lie. He knows it even when he doesn’t really know you at all, when it’s the first time you’re truly speaking to him after your arrival to the mansion almost a year ago.

“How old you really are?”

You laugh at the question once again, and he just knows it, knows it when he sees you barely illuminated by the dim light of the moon, the act you always keep up, a web of tangled lies you have to be into— “Told you i'm twenty-seven already, didn't you hear?”

“Is it now?” he asks, amused by the sass, exhaling the smoke of the low-quality tobacco he doesn't understand why you're so invested in when passed it to him—. “Cause you don’t seem very convinced, it really sounds like bullshit to me.”

You're almost offended. By the look you give it's like the worst mistake he could ever make, yet you remain silent, not giving the satisfaction of an honest answer yet. Testing his patience like he did have one to begin with.

"Is that why I can’t hear your heartbeats, darlin'? Cause you age so slowly?”

The nickname scratches a part of your brain, and you hate him for it. The word rolls out of his tongue with an accent, smoking your cherry tobacco cause you happen to be nice.

“You can’t?” you’re good at faking it suddenly, at least, that's what he thinks when your brows furrow in alleged curiosity, stiffening your back, uncomfortable. “How weird.”

“Damn right it is” that's when you realize he knows you are lying. Even when you don’t talk much, even when you act all stiff and bothered when he’s close, he knows that you are fully invested in lying. In whatever twisted little lie you've planned, like it was your real life and not something you made up. “Are you going to tell me truth, then or do I have to find out? Does the professor know that you're lying?”

The smoke lingers in the air.

“How old are you?” he asks once again, demanding an honest answer this time — "Thirty? Thirty-five?"

You find his questions annoying, mostly cause he won't stop until he gets an answer, one that pleases him enough to leave you alone, the other part cause you happen to like the playful banter you two keep going, dangerously much. You don't hate attention it's clear, what you do hate it's the way he seemed to see pass the lie, to demand more even when he has no right to.

He enjoys being the one who's right though, Logan cannot help it. He's pleased to catch that look on your face who says everything but nothing at once, to have you where he wanted, almost at the edge of admitting a truth.

Is it payback because you've been stealing all of the little mutants from his class? He's jealous cause kids like being around you? It does not make much sense, but he is fully invested. Questioning all.

Even when you're outside, it seems like the air grows thicker. And Logan finds himself seeking for your breathing, cause he don't know nothing, nothing about you more than the fact you don't seem to have a heartbeat, or pulse and now, breathing.

“If you really are that eager to know, i'm a hundred and twenty-seven” the words float in the air for a while, and he's sure you're just messing with him, cause there's no way a pretty little face like yours had endured a century. “I've been alive for quite a while.”

He doesn't fully believe it first. Of course he doesn't. Logan's sure you're messing with him also, distracting him about your real age.

“And I supposed this do come from you slow aging powers” He tries to give you a point there, but it's difficult to be serious when you're just playing with him—. "How so?"

To be honest, you do have a little temper yourself, you've learned to stand up for yourself most of the time, so when you happen to notice he's teasing you, that he doesn't really believe you, you adopt this attitude of defense he notices as you shift over the wood you're seated in.

"No, it doesn't" you steal the joint from his hands to have a smoke yourself. "You really aren't as smart as I thought you were, huh?"

Do you happen to have a dead wish? His muscles tense beneath his shirt, and in contrast of his problem, you can hear it all. All the sounds his body makes when he's all bothered just by the beat of his heart, that annoying sound his bones make each time he moves.

"What are you?"

"That's it," the praising goes directly into his chest, the tone you use to tell him he's going in the right direction it feels just so right he forgets why he got mad in the first place—. "That's what you should be asking right there."

It's almost a shame having to admit he would also switch classes. That he would also go through all the paperwork himself without a second thought and that right there, is pathetic, but you're smiling at him as if you're encouraging the man to try harder, to find the answer himself, and fuck — He's old, too old, he's tired, he's in a bad mood as fucking usual, and he happens to dig a drink in the quiet of his own room, but he's pulled by something as equal as devastating as the gravity force, shoot towards you in pure need to have some answers even if he has to make you spit them.

"I find it strange, cause when you don't have a heartbeat, you aren't usually alive" Deep down he's fascinated, hazel eyes glues on your face trying to understand. He feels like he has it in the tip of his tongue waiting to leave his mouth as a catastrophic answer, but he doesn't find the right words.

"That's cause i'm not," you state it like it's something obvious. And just as he knows you're lying, this time, he knows you're telling the truth, blowing the smoke in his direction just to bother him — "Why do you think i'm teaching history after all huh?"

He hasn't seen it all, it seems.

Yeah.

He's losing it after that night.

It’s known that Logan has sleeping problems, but that night specifically he thinks about something else rather than what usually torments him, a truth he also has to keep a secret now that he's learned more about it.

See, Logan doesn't expect you to be really dead. Much less to hear what you are and have been hiding this whole time from the rest of the people in the mansion — He also learns that you feed on blood, that vampires are a common thing in the world and that he shouldn't, at least, be that surprised when he's a mutant in a world full of humans himself.

You are a folklore myth on small villages, stories in Rumania and horror character in films, so you don't blame him when as you spoke, he finally understands why you're so damn attractive, so damn seductive as you explained more about your way of living, some memories you've been keeping to yourself since being a vampire was so damn solitary, memories he listens to cause he knows what it's like, to be misunderstood, to be eternal, to be alone as well.

It makes the two of you grow closer by the next weeks. You now talked during broad daylight about random shit at first, about the war sometimes, about your condition as he refers to when people is around, eaves-dropping on what you two are talking so invested in. Friends.

Simple as that.

And it's safe to admit also that in the course of the next days, Logan Howlett is a fucking mess, and he knows it, but he won't do anything about it.

He won't flirt cause he knows you're a hell of a woman, in every good sense of the word, that he's way too damaged for a vampire even, for all kinds of people out there, and as much as he'd like to say anything, he values your attention, how you switched the attitude of acting like he didn't exist to be a friend, one that you came to share secrets with a cherry aroma glued in their skin.

It gets him insane, to the point he's no longer spending much time with Jean and people start to pick up on it as if he didn't have enough headaches already. He doesn't care. Shit you are not bothered by what people say, and to be honest, he cannot seem to care either.

At first, he's reluctant of keep on talking to you as normal as it is. He's not really invested in religious themes, but he sure admits you're a sin by all meanings, a religious experience of some kind if anyone asked him — He agrees with what he has heard also in the hallways. Innocent conversations of teens and their platonic crush on their teachers. You are pretty hot.

He's so interested in knowing more about you, about the nights you spend in Rumania, when you leave to Canada, the different lives you've lived across the years. He finds himself looking forward to share his stories too, weird enough, cause he's over two centuries himself and he just craves to talk about it with someone who also gets him in a deeper level, that weariness that fills your body when you age so long.

You got the best of immortality, and instead of feeling envious, Logan finds himself attracted to you so much like he's never been in his whole existence. Not at the point it happened with you at least.

By the end of the first month he knows your little treats. You use a lot of sunscreen, and avoid activities outside as much as you possibly can with those classic, tiny black sunglasses that hided you from the rays of the sun, always in the shadow so unapproachable; how you'd usually dismiss food offerings from anyone who's kind enough to even offer you something, and when you haven't fed well during the course of the week, you'd become the most maddening woman he'd ever met.

Maddening.

"What wrong with you, Leech?" Leech. You've been in such a bad mood lately that when he's seating next to you in another random smoking session outside, your fingers twitch, clearly pissed at the nickname after saying multiple times you don't like it.

"I'm not in the mood for plays now."

He can tell from before. When you talked to him that very morning and stared at the collar of his flannel for what it seemed a good, nice minute, he realizes the same moment that you were staring at that pulse point in his neck, where the flesh blood was pumping in his blood flow: You're hungry, as any living creature would be and at your own manner, in constant control as you fight the sense of hunger.

So instead, the mutant ask, like he always does when he’s curious about something that involves you:

"When did you last feed?"

"A couple of weeks ago."

That would explain it. You don't talk much about your meal plan, he knows the professor is in charge of all of that. You've told him about blood bags and hospitals, but he's not really aware of how constant you need to eat, how the blood supplies most of your energy, makes you stronger, gives you vitality, so Logan at first, don't really know what its like to not drink any blood in the course of two weeks.

"What happened with the blood bags from the Hospital?"

The mention of blood out loud seems to triggers you. A groan escaping your lips as you can swear you feel the taste in your mouth — "Don't know. Haven't seen a single one this week, Charles said something about next week, problems in the bank I guess."

You're clearly worked up. It's a new look he hasn't registered before, your hair is tangled in a less-composed look, and there's a slight shake in your hands as if you're going through withdrawal, deprived for what you needed the most.

"And animals?" he questions, trying to find a solution. “Can’t you eat a cat or something?”

"Like shit i'm going to feed from a fucking animal," you're almost immediately grossed out, scrunching your nose at the idea. "I can barely handle being so close to a damn human but animals? I'd rather fucking die this time for real, no waking up."

"That bad huh?" the mutant asks, taking a sip from the beer he sneaked outside, chucking lightly afterwards. "So you're a leech with elegant taste, huh? Of course you are."

"Clean blood is rare," you explain, rolling your eyes. It's inevitable. He knows you hate the nickname so much that he insists to keep on calling you that way just to get a reaction—. "Humans nowadays taste like dirt. They consume drugs among other substances, pills, food supplements, even damn vitamins, don’t get me started about blood diseases cause it gets me in a bad temper. Every single thing affects on your taste, even what you eat. It's all registered there. Clean, good blood is rare to find. Call me elegant, call me picky. It's a damn fact."

"And what about mutant blood?" he questions. And it seems like a mere phrase at first, one with no subtle tones, he’s usually curious about your nature so you don’t pay much attention as he spoke—. “You’re picky about mutants too?”

“No, i’ve never had a mutant before.” The truth is, you hate feeding from people, the act being something so intimate, so damn personal, you refrain yourself. Killing humans, picking a next victim to fed on, is considered now a treat you don't appreciate from your kind, making you steal from hospitals and any kind of blood bank before Charles offered you help. You haven't fed from a mutant, cause you avoided everyone equally, but you don't want to be rude about it. “You all smell different, but i’d be lying. Maybe yes, i’d be picky about it too, feeding is something intimate.”

It's an undeniable admission, and now that he's trying to be in your position, he would also be picky about someone's blood. Logan remains stoic cause he’s suddenly filled by the thought of something else, a glimpse of his own weird creativity he forces himself to push aside, to really suppress now that it's not the time or the moment.

“How do I smell?” It's too late to stop the words from coming out of his mouth when he asks her. And at first, is out of pure curiosity. He has never encountered a vampire in his life until you, let alone had someone talking about the subtle tastes of the blood being undead, so he doesn't want to let the opportunity slip — Of course he wants to know if an over two hundred mutant like himself would be as remotely good as a fresh, clean bag from the hospital.

"You stink like wet dog," he surely deserves it after all the times he’s been calling you a leech — "Like those cigars you tend to smoke, alcohol, and musk. It's similar as wood. That smell you got when you're in a forest and it's not raining but straight pouring."

"Is this a way of telling me i'd taste bad, peach?"

You make a mental note to let him know after you like peach way more than leech.

"If i'd found a human smelling like that, you won't be hearing from me anytime soon" you're just messing with him. A playful banter you enjoy more than ever, the distraction you needed to think in something else rather than the blood bags you craved so deeply — "Hell, i've would just walked the other way."

"So i'm taking you won't be feeding from me anytime soon."

It all takes a dark turn there. You're very aware of the tension the last month now that you talk to him in daily basis, but it���s just mere tension, nothing that ever goes beyond the limit. Logan has never said something to flirt with you despite the million chances he got, and he always remained like a friend, one that you enjoy spending time with now. Cannot be blamed when you're taken aback.

“Cat got your tongue, kiddo?” Man. You're about to whine about the name before you remember he is indeed, older than you are. Vampire or mutant.

"You want me to feed from you?"

He seems so willing when you ask. Even when you teased about his smell calling him a wet dog. He just seems so eager to let you just do it, try a mutant for the first time.

"Yeah," he dismisses it like it's not something so deep — "I doubt Charles is going to let you take a bite since you could clearly kill him, and I'm not sure the others would be pleased with the idea of you sinking your teeth in them, so yes. Me, leech."

Logan Howlett doesn't really smell bad. And you don't know why cause he has all the ingredients to fucking stink, yet, you'd call him interesting. That's what you thought when you find his pulse point again, the vein in his neck you looked earlier in the morning, thinking just as the same you were thinking now.

Of course you would feed from him. Is it a good thing to do? No, in any other circumstances you'd decline. He's your friend.

Now? You’re having a hard time.

"So I'm guessing that you're pleased with the idea, then," Real talk?, you just want to hear him say it. He doesn't talk much usually, but now that he's very vocal about what's on his mind, you have to take advantage of it—. "I'm not sure either. But I do think Storm may be interested too."

He seems content with the response, taking a long sip from his beer before adding — "Please, go and ask her so you're less annoying."

You're almost completely sure he doesn't find you annoying. You also don't care about Storm. And maybe he knows you're not going anywhere, that you're not moving.

"You really want me to bite you?"

"I dunno now, princess" he looks at you pleased now cause he got you where he wanted to, cause he managed to awake all the interest now that you're looking at him "Are you going to pull a Dracula on me?"

"No, i'm not going to suck you dry if that's what you're asking."

Logan chuckles. He's a damn masochist. It's been like that as long as he can remember. It may have to be with his healing powers cause he likes it more than usual, but the idea gets to his head soon enough, all falling so damn fast: Your breathing would be against his neck and he'd take the bite like a damn champ.

"Yeah I can handle you," he says, aroused. "You're not gonna hurt me if you take some blood. I'll be fine and you won't be a pain in the ass."

He acts so gruff about it but you hear the sound of his heartbeat already high enough to wake the entire mansion, his labored breathing since he suggested the idea himself. He digs it, strange enough. Thrives on the idea.

He's a grown man already, and he can take a little leech like yourself.

It's clear you're hungry, cause it doesn't take much for you to accept, nodding like you're defeated, like you just lost the war entirely, cause there's no many options here to take and even if it were, you are now interested in have him more than any other blood bag. In fact. To hell with the hospital.

"Okay."

It's a simple answer, and it sure works with him as you get close to him, the bench you always used to sit now seeming so small as you look around confirming you guys really are alone—. "You won't tell anyone?"

It's something stupid to ask, cause after all that time he has never said anything, keeping your secrets as if they were his own, saving you from weird questions people get sometimes as they didn't know much about you. He's clearly not going to say nothing at all.

"Are you going to stop whining for a second and just eat darlin'? Cause I might change my mind here."

He's feeling overload soon after.

You don’t need a formal invitation to lean closer to his neck.

There's no way to describe it also cause he has never seen something like that, never felt a similar sensation more than when he's fucking, the cold touch of your fingers in his chest, taunting the vein in his neck without a previous warning before leaning in even closer than before—. "Stay still" you demand, face close against his bare skin, only one goal in mind. "Don't move for a minute. Just-"

You cannot finish the sentence, and Logan can experience the sporadic pain of the bite first hand when your teeth finally sink in his neck, piercing the flesh so easily as you let the blood fill your mouth. He grunts at the sharp pain, his face contracting momentarily before it's replaced by a nice wave of pleasure, one that hits him right in the guts as he grabs you by the nape of your neck, pushing you against him, almost demanding you to be closer, to keep on taking what you want, what you've been craving for two weeks.

When did he turned into this perverted sick? Getting off by something so primal as the fact you're feasting on him.

The feeling of your lips and the clear suck you gave when feeding are sending him into a spiral, and to be honest, he didn't expect to be so devastated by you, by the way your fingers stay against his chest to prevent him from moving, pinning the mutant between the wood bench and yourself so he won’t move, won’t do anything unless you want him to,pressing on the wound to draw more blood out.

"You heal so damn fast," you complain, looking at the traces of your bite with an unpleased face as they disappeared on his skin as fast as you created them.

"Then bite me again. I don't care."

You chuckle before leaning once again, and you can feel how the air grows hotter than how it was usually, the shift on his breathing as you bite him again, pressing on the wounds once again just to suck.

And you’re hungry, it’s the whole deal. His taste differs from what you believe at first, a huge change from what humans taste like, from what you’re used to deal with in hospitals. There’s a subtle taste of alcohol yes, but it mixes good with the sweet taste of honey, the weird taste you cannot put into words. It must be a mutant thing for sure cause it’s thicker than usual, a mix of flavors that explode in your tongue.

The headache you suffered from the whole week seems to dissapear as you drink in, feeding the monster you responded to in your stomach, demanding you to make him bleed more, to satisfy yourself until you can’t have any more.

Logan, on the other hand, is really fighting against his very own war.

You’re already close enough, but he just wants you damn closer, as much as he possibly can. It’s clear that well, it hurts slightly, but he has endured much worse, means nothing when it’s the pleasure that comes with it who strikes on his body, the light sucking, the idea you’re full of his blood, that you are not on trouble as you were before thanks to him. All because of him.

He's not used to acts on his impulses, but he does it anyway.

"C'mere" he says in a strangled voice, Logan's having no trouble moving you around, grabbing you by the hips to make you straddle him, keeping you glued to his neck as he doesn't want to disturb you—. "You really are a pretty leech, huh?”

You hum against his skin, pleased at the contact, and when he realizes you’re not complaining about his actions, he let his fingers grip your tights, keeping you against him.

You can hear him making this sound, quite like a moan but not exactly when you’re licking the holes you left in his skin, he does heal fast and don’t need any of your help when you’re done, but you coat his skin with your saliva anyway just to speed up the process, cause you want to do it, looking down to him after to check if he’s pale or nearly dead. You never really know.

And Logan himself is just fine cause his fingers gather the blood under your lip when he takes the sight of you sitting in his lap as the pearly white rays of moonlight makes your skin shine, and he pushes them inside your mouth so you don't waste any drop of what it can be considered food.

"So what's the final verdict?" he asks as his hands are now grabbing your tights, there's something so intimate about the moment, so personal, hot as he presses his fingers against the flesh of your muscles, he understand what you said before—. "Do I taste like utter shit?"

"Well, i’d need another taste to have my final decision" he laughs, and he don't really laugh often so the unexpected sound sends a shiver down your spine now that you’ve heard the sound quite a while now—. "Not much, just a little."

“Have you fill then, peach” He encourages you. “I want you full so you don’t whine the rest of the week.”

You don’t have any heartbeat, but if you did, it would be ragging in your ears at his words. At the warmth he’s spreading like a disease on her body that, despite being dead and cold, you can feel more than ever.

“I like peach,” you admit, this time pressing a soft kiss before directly hurt him—. “Leech is annoying.”

He’s going to say something, tease you about it maybe but he’s interrupted by the nice feeling of what he considers are your fangs tearing his skin apart, familiarity hitting him all sudden as he moans, a rough sound that comes from the deep of his throat, hands coming down to squeeze your ass, making you gasp against his neck when you experience the aching need physically forming in his pants.

“Still,” you say, concentrated on not allowing the wounds to close. But at the lack of complaints on what he's doing, Logan’s hands kept wandering around, making you move against his now clearly stiffed cock—. “Fuck’s sake I said still.”

“Stop being a damn brat. You can eat while I move you,” he grunts annoyed, shoving you against him, the friction of his jeans against the thin fabric of your shorts is enough to keep you quiet: Feeding from a stranger and feeding from a person you’re attracted to are two different things, especially in the position you find yourself in. “You don’t have to do anything. Quit whining about it.”

In response, your fingers press against the wound, not caring if it hurts or if it bothers him, but just enough to get him to bleed more and prevent the cut from closing, lapping at the blood that gathered over his collarbone, staining his white tank before you could even avoid it.

Your fingers grab the fabric just to pull it slightly down so it won't bother you, and the deep sound his chest make when he mocks about your desperation is stuck on your brain for the next couple of minutes, indulging in his taste, shutting up the rest of the world.

A moan comes out of your lips, muffling it against his skin. You're too zoomed out to hear it, but he's on a hell of a ride too, moaning as he demands more. It's been a while since the last time you did something like that, combine the pleasure of something as primal as eating with a mundane activity like sex, so you kind of forgot how good it felt, blaming yourself from depriving from something so needed.

"Do you always get this turned on when someone bites you?"

"No" Logan answers as you finish. He's rock hard beneath you, and he lets you know it when he's controlling the movement of your hips, working you against him at a slow pace—. "See, the woman i'm trying to seduce don't usually bite me, nor make me their main dinner plate."

You whine at the friction.

He looks down to the cause of all his damn problems just to notice his pants being damped with nothing but a physical form of need, soothing the uncomfortable fabric of his blue jeans — "So wet for me already, you’re making a damn mess, do you always get this turned on when feeding?"

Cheeky bastard.

He's using your own words against you, and you cannot be less bothered as you laugh softly, licking your lips only cause you know there's dried blood in them, drowned in his smell, the honey taste that lingered in your mouth.

“No, I don’t.”

At the sight, Logan's hand grabs your jaw in a rough movement, making you look at him before making you kiss him, deepening the contact as fast as you give him the chance. His tongue is soon invading your bucal cavity as he takes control of it, slow, intense and needy, as if he was holding on so much time before giving in to his own desires.

It is something like that.

You don't need to breathe in daily basis, but there's a burning sensation in your chest of wanting, of infinite lust you've been also experiencing by yourself.

The old mutant can taste his own blood in your mouth, a metallic taste as he keeps on kissing you until your lips are pink and puffed. He has thought so much about it that now that he has the opportunity, he devours as if he's a starved man having his first meal in what seems are ages.

"You didn't tell me if I tasted bad."

You think about it for a second.

"I'm afraid you're a rare breed cause it doesn't make any sense" You don't need any help now moving, cause you're rolling your hips on top of him at your own pace, allowing him to use his hands for something else—. “You have all the ingredients to taste like shit, but it's nothing but the contrary, even better than the fucking blood bags.”

“Sounds like your going to make me your meal plan, darlin. I’m here offering you a hand and you just take everything,” — “Such a greedy little vampire.”

He doesn't seem to care though, same as before he's nothing but willing to let you take everything as much as he tries to bark about it. He's more worried about his hands now that they're sliding down your oversized shirt, tracing patterns over your stomach, his touch so hot against your usually cold temperature.

"Logan," you whine,— "Someone can see us out here."

"Now you care about that?" his hazel eyes are a shade darker when he speaks. "After you're nice and full of my blood?"

His hands are big enough to take your whole cunt, allowing his digits to roam over the fabric of your underwear, almost thanking you for using those loosened pajama shorts he has seen before that very night as he just takes the fabric and pull it to the side.

"Nobody is going to see us. It's late and everyone's sleeping, leech" he teases you, and you cannot bring yourself to care about the nickname at the feeling of his hand taunting you from over the fabric—. "If you can bite me here outside, you might as well take my cock here too."

You cannot battle against that. You're deep in whatever spell he puts you into, giving in to the attraction and the tension that now needs to be taken care of. Logan's fingers touch you in nothing but experience, cause he knows how to please after so much time alive, how much pressure he needs to apply to leave you plain dumb, pliable for him.

"D'you think I need to stretch you out before fucking you?" he asks against your neck after leaving a reasonable-sized hickey in the zone, he likes the idea of people finding out about what you've been doing with him the next morning. "Or you're a big girl and can take me all by yourself?"

He'd like to take your time with you. Thoroughly enjoy you as much as he wants to, let everyone know you're his now, that you're shuddering thanks to him only, but he's too needy for that, too deprived of you to take his time.

"I want you to use that pretty mouth of yours and talk to me," he demands, coming up to look at your face while torturing you, his index and middle finger rubbing your clit from over the underwear—. "I'm not properly touching you yet and you're losing it already, peach. C'mon, you can talk to me still."

"I can take you," you say in a strangled voice. "Please Logan, please."

It's the plea of your tone that gets him, the soft begging of an ache he can only soothe, your face while you ask for more, not aware of anything else but him.

"Please what?"

"Please just fuck me already," you ask in frustration—. "I just need you to fill me up for a damn while."

You are starting to love the sound of his laugh. The deep sound he makes when he’s really enjoying something, his voice in damn general.

"Be a good little vampire" He says in a gentle tone. Logan’s trying to be kind even when his touch is so rough. "Unbuckle my pants and take my cock out. My hands are busy now, and you can do it yourself."

He is busy indeed. Toying with your underwear being the only thing that’s keeping him from the direct contact, pushing the fabric against your hole as it works as a barrier, preventing his digits to fuck you as he’d like to. He’s busy keeping you in place, preventing you from downright melt as your hands came up to unbuckle his belt first, the sound of the metal as it moves filling the air for a couple of seconds before you put all your attention in the button of his jeans, the zipper coming down with the force you’re using.

“Yeah baby,” he praises—. “You’re doing so good, keep going.”

When you pull the fabric of his briefs down, he’s already leaking for you, pink head, slightly curved to the side, moaning, erratically how much he needs your hands on him, how you're wet and ready for his cock. You close your fist around him, stroking slowly as your hips lift up enough to position yourself on top of him.

He’s big. Damn fucking right he is, you’d expected it from before cause sometimes you swear you can see his full length in his jeans, but taking him in your hand is a struggle but itself.

“Are you going to take me yourself or do you need my help? I know you can.”

Despite his words, he does help. Grabbing the black fabric of your underwear to finally make it to the side, the tip of his dick pushing against your clit before he's the one to place it in your leaky hole, forcing himself slowly, giving you time to take him in, inch by inch.

“Good girl," he says, head rolling backwards for a brief moment as he experiences the warm sensation of your walls surrounding him, clenching against his cock as he keeps one hand on your hip, helping you as you lower yourself over him. "Let me look at you.”

His fingers grab your jaw, squeezing you as he makes you look back at him, pushing you once again as you holded a loud moan. He's stretching you at his need.

"One more time," he begs. "One more time and you got it, peach. You're almost there."

Jesus fuck. You can feel yourself getting dizzy. You've drank a lot of blood and you're now overwhelmed by this intense pleasure that formed in your lower stomach, gathering there and waiting for the perfect moment to explode—. "Fuck I-"

Logan's pampering you with kisses as a mere distraction, his lips travelling through your neck to your collarbone before you're finally seated on top of him, a muffled moan you need to shut filling the calm of the night.

"Fuck you're tight," he exhales, and he's lost in the sensation, the way your velvety walls welcome him inside. He stays still for a moment, giving you time to adjust, to make you the one who starts moving on top of him.

You can see his veins popping up. All over his chest and coming down to his shoulders and his arms, and god gracious — He smells so fucking good you’re tempted to ask if you can have a bite again.

The moment feels longer than usual, the seconds pass slowly as you stay there. Logan’s hands are just touching your skin from under your oversized t-shirt, taking in the low moans you gave him, the almost perceptible whispers as you get used to him, to his size.

He likes the intimacy of it, the bliss. Man you look so pretty in his lap when the light of the moon is stripping you all to his eyes, even if you’re fully dressed an he’s seated in a damn bench, he cannot enjoy it more, pulling you in for a needy kiss, one that is rougher than the first one and leads you to move inevitably.

His cock pushes past that nice spot inside, and the friction is enough to make you move again, rocking your hips at a slow pace for a few seconds. The sound of your moans is silenced by his demanding kisses, and now that he knows you can handle him, his grip on your hips turn more firm now, squeezing the skin there so he can control your speed, the rythm of your movements now faster than before.

“Shh, don’t whine” what he lacks of vocal usually, he pours it all in just fucking, talking you through it when he feels you’re being too loud—. “Do you want to wake the others? We can’t have them seeing you like this, all fed up and cock-drunk.”

“Let me bite you again,” you ask soon enough. And it takes a lot to do it, cause you’re doing it out of pure greed, cause you can’t have enough.

“Take whatever you want, leech, just don’t make me faint” he jokes, his panted breathing betraying him as he moans, incredibly interested in the idea—. “Want to be conscious when you cum all over my dick.”

Logan’s sure your eyes glisten in a red color as you lean over his neck. And this time is less affectionate, much less gentle as you finally bite him again, teeth piercing the flesh so easily his hips jolts against you in response of the sharp pain your fangs create, the warm sensation of his blood in contrast of your cold touch, tongue-licking all you get from him.

And fuck it feels good.

He shrudders beneath you, shaking his head just slightly at reflex of pain before continue working his way with you, placing his hand between your tights as he lets his fingers rub on your sensitive clit, just enough to make you bite on his neck harder, the lewd sounds of your cunt taking him between holded moans as you suck on his neck.

“That’s it taking me so good,” He praises — “You like that, princess? Like how you’re full of me?”

You hum against his skin. The blood coates your chin as it goes down through his chest, staining his white tank for a couple of seconds before the holes your teeth made finally closes on their own.

It’s pure ecstasy. He can feel it when you clenching around his cock, cheeks red from his blood going now through your system, his vitality, his energy.

You can feel him fucking everywhere. So when you kiss him it’s all teeth, bite and his blood.

The pleasure’s taking control of you now, and Logan’s dizzy from the blood loss, his body covered now in sweat as his words slur together, not threading any coherent thought.

“That’s it,” he says, making you bounce of his cock. “Gonna’ have you in my room then, all spread out f’me.”

His hand wrap around your neck tightly, keeping the direct contact as he chokes you. Shit. You don’t need to say a word. Logan already got you.

“James-” he’s too deep to question why you’re using that name with him. How you facade is crushing down now as you let go.

When your body trembles on top of him he’s already cumming too, the squeeze on his cock sufficent to fuck him up personally, his bruising grip on your hips shoving you as deep as he possibly can as his release hits him like a brick falling from the damn sky.

He lets you work for it, ride each second of your high, milk him dry as a white circle of his own cum mixed with your juices coated the base of his cock, his underwear now slick with your orgasm.

He’s struggling to breathe, to properly say something as you’re finally coming down from your peak, looking at him through half lidded eyes.

“Did you called me James?” he questions, and you’re a damn bad liar, cause he knows imediately you’re hidding something cause of the look on your face—. “Do we know each other? From before.”

You don’t know how to respond at first, at least, cause you cannot lie in a position like that now.

“Well uh. It’s quite a long story here.”

Before you can continue he gets up, making you wrap your legs around his hips before stsrting to walk to the mansion.

“Logan-” you say in a strangled moan yourself, still sensitive as he’s balls-deep inside you.

“It will be less than two minutes, leech” he responds gruffily,— “Need to get you into my room so I can enjoy you the rest of the night, and you can tell me all of it.”

He don’t care if he’s bloody or a damn mess as he squeezes your ass climbing up the stairs, much less if anyone see the two of you in that state.

“I want to hear all the details, Cause I have a weird feeling that this has happened before.”

You cannot find a reasonable excuse to say no as the man’s already reaching the second floor.

Logan’s fucked after that night. When he learned about all that you were before, weirdly connected to you through the decades.

It must be the bite isn’t? Shit. He’s more in sync than ever now that you’ve been feeding from him a lot the last few weeks.

Ah. You fucking leech.

my masterlist

[cattolino]

like me better.

pairing: lee minho x f reader. warnings: hand kink, fingering, praise kink if you squint, slightly narcissistic minho but he just loves himself too much lol, implied oral (m receiving). genre: smut, strangers to friends to lovers/fwb....? rating: explicit. word count: 2.6k

Changbin’s roommate had the sexiest hands.

And you said exactly that.

Lee Minho was a second year digital arts student and taught dance classes in his spare time. With an experienced dancer body and a face that looked sculpted by the Greek Gods themselves, Minho was accustomed to admiring remarks about his ideal body proportions, his muscular and flexible physique, his thick and sinewy thighs, his excellent and toned pecs, his sharp jawline, his plump and pouty lips, his pointed nose, his big and round eyes… and the list went on because everyone always had something to talk about when it came to Lee Minho.

As a complement to his exquisite appearance, he had just the right amount of confidence that made people either want to be with him or want to be him. It was like every fragment of his being was the pristine example of transcendence beauty. Very praiseworthy. And everyone should be jealous. Minho was aware of all that. To be frank he relished in the heart eyes of people as they walked past him.

But then Changbin brought you into his shared apartment to work on a project together.

Instead of widened eyes and parted lips and a stuttered breathing like the reactions he’d gotten from most people, you beamed and happily greeted him with an unashamedly loud and sincere “oh, wow, you’re really pretty! And nice hair, too!” before following Changbin to the living room.

Your compliments were honest. But clearly lacked worship. And where’s the ulterior motive in the eyes begging to get fucked? Thought anyone wants him in bed? Minho blinked, glancing at your back.

And then it was the umpteenth time you came to hang out. You and Changbin doodled on your respective sketchbooks but you’d been too distracted to carry on. You were blatantly staring at Minho’s hands chopping some vegetables on the kitchenette across from you. The next minute you casually told him that he had the sexiest hands you had ever seen.

He couldn’t help but choke on his own spit coughing profusely as his knife clattered against the cutting board. Changbin eyed you with a clear “what the fuck” look evident on his disgusted face.

Because when people say something about Minho’s hands, it would be that they were nice or soft or chubby or just anything else other than sexy. You shrugged, “I said what I said.”

You weren’t joking. His arms might not be as beefy and massive as Changbin’s, but you thought they were the perfect amount of toned and well-defined. The veins protruding along the skin of the back of his hands and forearms especially when he was straining might be the cause of your sudden moan. The width and length of his hands were below the average of an adult male that you likened them to kitten paws sometimes.

But his fingers… Well, they were thicker and longer in size than most people you hooked up with. And most definitely much thicker and a little longer than yours.

So yes, when you said his hands were the sexiest you had ever seen, you weren’t joking.

“You should stop saying I have nice hands.” Minho commented with a laugh one day.

You were filling in your glass with ice water from the fridge as he leaned back against the wall with his arms crossed against his chest.

“Oh, but I never did.” You denied, before sneaking a quick glance at him with a chuckle, “I said they’re sexy.”

“And you mean it?”

You turned on your heel with a glass full to the brim, “from the myriad of hands I’ve observed, yes, yours belong to the sexy category.”

He poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, brows furrowing amusedly as an idea that’d been invading his thoughts lately travelled down to the edge of his tongue, threatening to be let out. And he did, “so you have a hand kink.”

You hopped onto the counter and paused for a moment, taking a gulp from the glass, letting the cool liquid freshen up your throat as you stared up at the ceiling. And then you shrugged, “yeah, that makes sense.”

If Minho was surprised at your nonchalance at the accusation, it wasn’t shown through his face as his grin widened and he laughed. You glanced over at him with a raised brow, “what?”

He shook his head, “do you usually go around telling people you like their hands and admit it right away when they tell you that you might have a hand kink?”

“Not people. Just Changbin and you.”

“You like his hands too?”

“His hands are sexy.”

“Sexier than mine?”

“Gotta be honest, no.”

“I always love your honesty.”

“You mean you love the compliments.”

“So you like my hands better?”

Your eyes narrowed with interest, all while the distance between you and Minho had eventually gradually scaled down. He was practically standing between your legs, and the glass in your hand was the only barrier between your chests. You took another sip of the cold water, “depending on what needs to be done.”

“I’ll make it easier. Whose you’d prefer to have around your neck?”

“What the fuck kind of conversation did I just heard?” Changbin stood behind you across the island counter with a pair of ice packs attached to the back of his thighs. Yesterday was his leg day.

Minho shrugged, “just kinks and stuff.”

Changbin’s face contorted in disgust as he walked around to grab a can of diet coke from the fridge. He sauntered back to his bedroom, leaving the scene with a shout, “I don’t care if you bang each other. Just not in the kitchen!”

Minho shouted back, “suggestion accepted!”

You rolled your eyes with a giggle, pushing his chest away with a pad of your finger and about to hop off the counter but you caged you in. He took your glass and put it on the counter, leaning in to speak lower despite his roommate having been out of earshot.

“So whose hands you like better?” You thought it was just another flirting attempt, unless there wasn’t a sign of it on his face when he said that. Instead, his eyes were searching for yours as he was waiting for an answer.

You smiled.

Perhaps you had a hand kink. Combined with the attractive Lee Minho? And you’re dead.

You were settled in his lap, back flushed against his chest as he reclined back against the leather headboard of his bed. His legs intertwined with your own, holding each of your legs apart as his hand smothered along the inner of your thigh. His other hand rested around your throat, keeping the back of your head stilled on his shoulder as his lips moulded with yours.

Once his thumb added a slight pressure to the side of your neck, you released a shaky breath into his mouth. And he smiled against your lips.

He discarded his shirt, leaving himself with only his boxer shorts. The whereabouts of your skirt and shirt were vague in your head. Probably in the doorway of his room where he’d had you pinned against earlier, or somewhere at the foot of the bed where he’d dragged you from to settle between his thighs. Somehow you just ended up in only your panties and bra.

He caught your lips again. His hand trailed up to the warmth of your center, fingertips gently rubbed against your clothed cunt before he hooked a finger around your panties and dragged the thin fabric to the side. You pulled away once the cool air caressed your bare entrance, head thrown back on his shoulder and releasing a long sigh as he began stroking your clit.

He nibbled the shell of your ear. The hand on your neck cradled your jaw, pulling your head off of his shoulder for you to look down. “Watch.”

And God, were you so soaked already.

Even in the dim of his room you could still see how his palm and fingers were glistening, his slick-wet skin reflecting the lights from the night lamps at each side of his bed. But hotter than all of that was the protruding veins that bulged along his arm all the way to the back of his hand as his fingers persistently rubbed your clit, each stroke leading his middle digit to dip deeper into your entrance. You squirmed and mewled, legs lightly shaking at the mere sight of it.

There had been a few nights out with alcohol in your system where someone would have their fingers deep inside your walls and make you moan out loud. Minho wasn’t the only person who’d laid a finger on your sensitive area trying to get you off, but nobody had ever managed to get you drenched with only the tip of their finger barely inside you like he did now, no. To his credit, there wasn’t a drop of alcohol in your system. Only a few gulps of cold water.

The amount of slick you produced pooled in the creases towards the center of his palm. You gripped his wrist tight, whining out loud cries of his name as he kept assaulting your clit with perseverance. His lips stretched wide into a pleased grin, chin resting on your shoulder as he himself watched his middle finger slowly sink into your entrance.

“You haven’t answered my question.”

His thirst for compliments. Seriously.

The answer was, his. His hands were just so oddly sexy it was ridiculous. But curse him and his overflowing confidence and overwhelming self love. You might want to tease him a little.

You bit down onto your lower lip as you watched his finger sink deeper and deeper, your walls clenched at the intrusion. Your grip around his wrist loosened, letting him go inside of you further. You let out a long exhale, and hummed, “Changbin.”

And all the increasingly pleasant tinglings coiling up in the pit of your stomach forcefully boiled away as he pulled his finger out. You turned to him with furrowed brows of disapproval.

“Better ask Changbin to make you feel better than I could ever do then, darling. I’m afraid I’m not up to your standards.” His lips pursed into a feigning frown as he spoke. But in contrast to his disappointed pout, he brought his hand up to his lips, licking his drenched digits clean with a sensual movement of his tongue without breaking eye contact.

You wouldn’t lose to him. You’d get what you wanted. You weren’t the only one affected here, if the slight poke on your backside was anything to go by.

You mirrored his pout, palm wrapping around his wrist and bringing it back down between your thighs. He let you, but only until his palm hovered over your folds, barely touching you. His face twisted with an impish grin, “you know the magic words.”

Still with a feigning pout, you leaned close to plant kisses up his jaw, then settled your head back down on his shoulder. Your face nuzzled the side of his neck. “Of course I love your hands better, silly. Isn’t it obvious enough?”

“Better than everybody else’s?”

If you had learnt something else about him tonight, it was that everything seemed to be a competition for him. Or he was just eager to have your sole attention on him. Tsk.

You hummed.

His fingers thrusted once.

Then twice.

“Words, baby.”

You grinded down, shifting backwards to where a tent of his erection poke your backside. He groaned at the slight contact, then humping forward to get more friction, while simultaneously adding the second finger in.

You giggled, “better than even my own hands.”

It was all he needed to give you what you wanted. His middle and ring fingers were sliding in and out of your walls in an unforgiving pace that made your thighs quiver. His other hand found its place around your middle. You looked down, purring when you watched his fingers only get wetter and wetter as they kept disappearing and reappearing inside of you.

“Oh—” you sighed, nails clawing at his arm, “good… feel so good…”

As if his fingers weren’t already tormenting enough, his hips began jerking forward, his clothed bulge grazing and rubbing between your ass.

Your eyes threatened to slide close at the tingles in your stomach that gradually evolved into an overwhelming bliss the more he assaulted you from both sides. And yet you couldn’t give up on keeping track of the indecent sight down there; his thick and long digits invading your walls and poking deep into your bundle of nerves, his whole hand coated with your juices and the drenched sheets beneath you.

It was too much. His fingers were too much. His throbbing clothed length was too much. The sight was too much.

And then you convulsed, your walls clenched hard. Head thrown back, curses and his name and an endless of “good… good… good…” spilling out of your parted lips. It wasn’t a plain white ceiling above your head, but stars and white and sparks.

His fingers curled, drawing more of your juices to dribble out of your hole.

When had been the last time you came you hard with just two fingers inside you? But it was two thick fingers and veined hands of Lee Minho we’re talking about here.

You heard a loud pop beside you. Minho was licking clean his slick-glazed fingers. “Tastes so sweet,” he hummed in delight.

Even in your fucked out state, your mind went towards the prominent erection that kept twitching against your backside. Hell, you could even feel his precum even through his shorts and the thin lace of your panties.

“You haven’t— you haven’t come… you…” you said between ragged breaths, attempting to turn around.

He chuckled, sliding his shorts off and helping you lay on your side between his legs. He carefully pulled you closer where your head could comfortably rest on his bare thigh.

He combed through your hair that was half wet with sweat, moving the stray strands out of your face before stroking your cheek softly. Maybe you shouldn’t have only paid attention to his sexy, veined hands because oh my God he looked godly from down here. Perhaps you eventually grasped the obsession people had over him.

You almost gave into the gentle touches of his hand on your face, head still hazy with the most blissful orgasm you’d had in a long while— if it wasn’t for a distracting view presented right there for only you to gawk at.

Your hooded eyes fixated on the glory of his length that stood proud against his toned abs. Your hand reacted faster than your hazy brain, mindlessly reaching for the base and stroking it lightly.

Your eyes were big and pleasing when looking up at him, wordlessly and helplessly asking for permission. He snickered.

“Pretty,” he caressed the side of your face down to your jaw, “so pretty for me.”

Then he brought his hand up to his face. He licked his thumb. The pad of his forefinger tipped up your chin, and his thumb rushed over your parted lips, coating the plump flesh with his spit.

His unoccupied palm led your hand to properly wrap around the base of his cock, guiding you to stroke and palm the head. And when you thought he was about to jerk himself off using your hand, he dragged your face closer with his other hand and hovered the tip of his cock over your lips, precum slowly dribbling out of its slit.

He parted your lips wider with a thumb, smiling down at you, “my turn?”

[space-blue]

Arcane 2 Trailer time!

Imagine this chick comes into your office and tells you what to do? What are you gonna do?? Tell her no?????

Overall Ambessa and Sevika are really making this season MILF o'clock.

It would seem that early season will focus on Jinx terrorist time...

This is sadly the only LoL skin she could afford...

If you like Cait AND you like your women in pain/getting squeeze like they're a pineapple in the werewolf fucking press, then it seems this season is going to be for you. But Cait isn't the only one having a bad time, seems like Heimerdinger losing his day job led to some relaxation of his principles:

Now focusing on Ekko, who we know is helping Heimer:

This has a chain to pull a mechanism, and we see some similar thing being pulled by an unknown character, just a much thicker chain.

These shots of the Firelights attacking AMBESSA's people lead me to believe that the story may look like > Councillors listen to Ambessa > The tensions with Zaun escalate > Jinx terrorism instead of resolution > Vi sees this as failure and returns to Zaun to try another way > Ambessa doesn't take no for an answer > everyone teams up against Noxus, bringing Zaun and Piltover together again.

By hair alone we can see a timeskip here. Love Ekko's outfit. Vi's simpler style with just a bit of Piltie chest armour gives me hope that she transitions away from being a Piltie Enforcer and more of a Vander style character, trying to mediate.

Notice how dark her roots are???? I am wondering because LOOK:

She has black hair!! With reddish tips?

SO THIS MEANS THIS IS VI'S NEW LOOK:

And this last shot confirms it! RHEA RIPPLEY makeover!!!!

PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLESAEPLEASE BE REAL please don't be an inforcer don't be a cop please be cool please have an arc learn progress return to your people don't be a class traitor I beg I begwaah

My only criticism of this is that we now have 2 options: Either Vi is entering her goth era and is actively dyeing everything sloppily so that bits of Pink remain, or she has always been black haired, and has been dyeing her hair AND eyebrows pink her whole life, even as a child.

I get that it could be a cultural thing parents do, as my friend En suggested. I'd like this, if it weren't for the fact she was in stillwater for YEARS and I don't see them providing pink dye and a nice setup to bleach and dye safely...

Curious to see how it goes.

At this I screamed "Silco????" But not sure now. Seems too far off to be a Jinx vision.

There's also fucky things going on with the Arcane. We're told it's "waking up", which is curious because I was assuming mages across Runeterra were using the Arcane lots for their own magic, so very happy to learn more about it.

Also very cool to see a return of the wizard guy from Jayce's backstory:

Very excited for these depictions of magic :

Free feet included.

I'm pretty amazed that we have seen Zero Mel and Zero Jayce, and just 2-3 frames of hinted Viktor. Nice to see he'll go through with the transformation, but I'm curious as to why they're keeping the jeyvik divorce era so out of promo. Some of my friends feeling very edged right now.

Wondering if this is baby Powder flashbacks, or if we're going to get little kids getting dyed blue in celebration as we see adults do when they team up with her. I suspect if this is a kiddo who wanted to be blue like Jinx, this will be used as a parrallel, with them being caught in an attack that harkens back to the bridge.

The visual effects look insanely gorgeous, and also Jinx's very bad time tm is always on the menu. Very exciting!

[misshoneyimhome]

I know you aren’t taking requests right now! Whenever you do open that back up, I thought of good one for inexperienced!reader x Willy. I just had to share before I forget lol

Maybe it’s the end of the playoff season, and she asks him if she can shave his beard and he teaches her how to do it? I thought it would be kinda cute ☺️

Can also lead into something sexy if you’d like!

Requests are still closed, lovelies 😉 But… I just couldn’t ignore this one! 😏💋 I’m such a sucker for William and his beard, and honestly, this scenario just had me unf!—so romantic and yet so deliciously heated 🥰 I’ll admit, I’m not usually sold on him without the beard, but a smug, confident William is too hard to pass up. How can we not love him like this? 

I have to confess, I can’t quite remember how we handled the inexperienced!reader dynamic during the first playoffs run of their relationship. Still, I can imagine it could unfold something like this. 😘 Enjoy!

Tropes & warnings: 18+ smut, Inexperienced!reader x Willy, probably no surprise but oral sex (f receiving)

Word count: 2.8K

Off With the Beard I Inexperienced!reader x Willy

The knock of William’s keys landing in the dish by the door signalled his return. You looked up from where you’d been curled on the sofa, flipping through a magazine idly, waiting for him. It was the end of the playoff season—an intense, emotionally draining run that had left him on edge and yet, strangely calm now that it was over. He’d given it everything he had out on the ice, and though there might still be a lingering disappointment that the season hadn’t ended in a championship parade, there was also relief. A chance to breathe.

You set the magazine aside, standing as he entered the living room, still wearing a soft grey tee and track pants. His hair was slightly damp from the shower he must have taken before leaving the rink. That familiar scruff on his jaw was more prominent than ever, grown thicker over the course of the playoffs, since players often avoid shaving for good luck. Now that it was done, the once-light stubble had turned into a proper beard—soft in places, but coarse enough to look formidable. You thought it was charming, though you knew he’d never keep it forever.

“Hey,” you greeted him quietly, stepping forward. He gave you a tired but genuine smile before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close into a hug that said more than words. His shoulders relaxed, the tension easing out of him now that he was home. You inhaled his clean scent, warm skin, and a hint of fresh soap.

“Long day?” you asked softly as you leaned back to search his face, running your fingertips gently along the line of his jaw.

“Yeah,” he admitted, his voice low and a little rough. “But it’s done.” He sounded resigned but also relieved. His blue eyes drifted to the reflection of the two of you in the mirror across the room, and you saw his gaze settle on his own face. The beard. He’d made some joke before about how he’d shave it off once the run was over, and you’d teased him about it.

This was your moment.

He’d never seen you handle a razor, and honestly, you’d never shaved anyone’s beard before. You were clueless about how to groom someone else—but an idea had been stirring in your mind since before he came home tonight. An image of leaning over him, blade in hand, guiding your touch carefully over his skin. An intimate act of trust.

“So,” you began softly, letting a small smile dance on your lips, “now that the season’s done, are you going to get rid of this?” You gently tugged at a bit of his beard with your fingertips, watching him smirk.

“Oh yeah?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Thinking it’s time, are we?” His tone was playful, and a little challenge flickered in his eyes.

You took a breath, feigning nonchalance though your heart fluttered at the thought of what you were about to ask. “Well,” you said, a hint of a grin forming, “maybe I can do it? Shave it for you?”

He blinked, surprised. “You want to shave my beard?”

You nodded, letting your palm settle on his chest. “I do. That is… if you trust me.” The words came out quietly, and you felt a blush warming your cheeks. Unskilled as you were, you were willing to learn. As always. 

His lips parted, and for a moment he just looked at you, impressed, amused, and maybe a bit turned on by your offer. He clearly liked the idea. “I guess I can teach you,” he said, his voice softening. “I mean, you’ve never done it before, right?”

You shook your head. “Nope. Totally new territory. But I want to help. It’s been driving you crazy, and you deserve to relax. Let me take care of you.”

His expression gentled at that, and a fondness shone through. “Alright,” he agreed, taking your hand. “Let’s do it.”

A few minutes later, you were in the bathroom. He’d settled onto the edge of the bathtub, a towel draped around his shoulders. You’d prepared warm water, shaving cream, and a fresh blade—items he guided you to fetch from the cabinet. The overhead light cast a warm glow, and the mirror reflected both your anxious anticipation and his patient amusement.

“First,” he said softly, placing a gentle hand over yours as you instinctively reached for the shaving cream too soon. “We need to trim it down before we go at it with a razor.” He nodded toward a small electric shaver on the counter. “Otherwise, it’ll be too tough to handle.”

You hesitated for a moment, heart fluttering at the responsibility he was entrusting you with. Grasping the electric shaver, you flicked it on, the low hum vibrating in your hand. William tilted his chin upward, offering you a better angle. You took a breath and began working through the thicker parts of his beard, guided by his soft murmurs of encouragement—“Just like that,” “A bit closer here,” “Perfect.” Bit by bit, the dense hair gave way to a rough stubble.

When you finished, he caught your hand in his, turning off the shaver. “Now we use the warm towel,” he explained, offering you a folded, damp washcloth. You pressed it against his jaw, feeling the now-shortened stubble prickling beneath the cloth. He closed his eyes and sighed, leaning into your gentle touch as the heat and moisture softened the stubble further.

Next came the shaving cream. Slowly, deliberately, you spread it along his jaw and cheeks, the coolness contrasting with the warmth of his skin. Your fingertips grazed his face, and he watched you through half-lidded eyes, amused by your painstaking concentration. This felt different from anything you’d done together before—which said a lot. And maybe because you were unsure of what you were doing, maybe because this was a new kind of closeness, he seemed almost protective, endeared to the fact that you wanted to take care of him in this quiet, meaningful way.

“Take the razor,” he instructed, his voice low, “and go gently with the grain. Short strokes.”

You nodded, carefully aligning the blade. Your heart pounded with the weight of this trust. This was William Nylander, placing a razor at your disposal against his face. Slowly, you made the first pass, your other hand steadying his chin. He was silent, letting you work, occasionally murmuring a soft “Good” or “Just like that,” as you carefully removed the stubble that had become part of his playoff persona.

And as the hair fell away, you revealed more of the William you knew so intimately—clean lines of his jaw, the softness of his lips becoming more pronounced. You found yourself admiring him anew, and when your eyes met in the mirror, he shot you a tender smile that made your chest warm.

After a few careful minutes, you finished, wiping away excess cream, and patting his face dry. The beard was gone. Instead, he looked younger, relaxed, and undeniably handsome.

Your eyes sparkled with triumph. “There,” you said, stepping back to admire your handiwork. “All done.” Your voice held a note of pride, and he picked up on it, chuckling softly.

William stood, folding the towel before setting it aside. Then, he turned to you, his gaze sweeping over your face. “That was impressive,” he praised, his tone genuine. “You did good.”

You flushed, grinning as you took a step closer. “Well, I had a pretty willing teacher.”

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, appreciative kiss. “Mm,” he murmured as he pulled back, “I think I owe you a proper thank you.”

A current of heat arced between you two. Maybe it was the vulnerability of the moment—his trust, your care���or just the natural tension that always hovered at the edge of your relationship. Without the beard, you felt his lips more clearly, softer, and smoother, and you deepened the kiss, feeling him respond in kind.

His hands found your waist, and you let yourself melt into him. The moment carried the promise of something more than just a shave, more than just a lesson. It was a quiet understanding that now that the playoffs were over, and the beard was gone, something new could take its place. 

Something warm, intimate, and undeniably sexy.

“I think,” he whispered against your mouth, “I should show you how much I appreciate this new skill of yours.” His tone was playful, but laced with desire, and you laughed softly, nodding as his arms tightened around you.

His arms encircled your waist more fully, pulling you flush against him. You could feel the subtle shift of muscle under his shirt, the steady rhythm of his breathing turning a touch heavier now, more charged with want. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, searing kiss that spoke of promises unspoken—of heat, gratitude, and release.

When he pulled back, his eyes were half-lidded, dark with intent. Gently, he reached for your hand, guiding you out of the bathroom and into the soft glow of the bedroom. His free hand trailed along the curve of your spine as you walked, each step punctuated by the quiet hum of the city outside. Behind closed doors, the world shrank to just the two of you.

In the gentle lamplight, he turned to face you. The tension that had been humming between you all night found its voice as he leaned in close again. His mouth hovered near your ear, the faint scent of clean soap and something distinctly William wrapping around you. “You were so careful with me,” he said softly, his tone warm and husky. “So sweet, so patient. Such a good girl.” 

Your breath hitched as his hands slipped under the hem of your shirt, fingertips grazing bare skin. He moved slowly, giving you time to adjust and respond, always so attuned to your comfort and your pace. You gasped softly when he let his lips wander along the line of your neck, tasting the curve of your shoulder. The texture of his now-smooth jaw brushing your skin was a sensual novelty—gone was the roughness of his playoff beard, replaced by a softness that heightened every delicate kiss.

Lifting your chin, you met his gaze, and in that moment, you saw a tenderness that took your breath away. There was desire, yes, but also affection, pride, and something else—a deep-rooted connection that made your heart flutter. You might have been clueless about what you’d done, but the way he’d guided you with such care, had made you feel safe to explore this intensity.

Gently, William began to undress you, pausing frequently to press his mouth to new expanses of skin as they were revealed. Each touch earned a small sigh from your lips, each kiss leaving you a bit more pliant beneath his hands. His voice was low and encouraging, murmuring praise and endearments that made your cheeks burn with pleasure.

Your hands found their way under his shirt, feeling the definition of his body that always caught your eye. He let out a quiet groan when your palms pressed against his bare chest, and you swore you felt his heartbeat pick up speed.

“Remember,” he murmured, voice hoarse as his forehead rested against yours for a moment. “You did this. You made me feel like this.” It was as if he wanted to ensure you knew your power—that your kindness, your care, your new “skill” that he’d teased you about, had lit this spark of closeness now blazing between you.

Your answer was in the tilt of your hips and the way your fingers curled into his hair as you pulled him in for another kiss, deeper this time, your body arching into his. Nothing else mattered now; what mattered was the warmth of his skin, the encouraging hum in his throat, the way he guided your every move with gentle, unspoken instruction. The quiet gasps and sighs that filled the dim room spoke louder than any words could.

In the softness of bedsheets and the subtle glow of the bedside lamp, you welcomed him closer, your naked bodies drawn together by a palpable hunger. His mouth found yours again, and this time there was no hesitancy—only a deep, slow kiss that made your heart stutter and your breath catch. His hand trailed down your body, fingertips grazing sensitive skin and drawing quiet gasps from your lips.

He explored you with a reverence that left you breathless, his every touch considered and precise, as if he were savouring the pure, unfiltered responses he drew from you. Your skin tingled under his fingertips, a slow ignition that he kindled with each careful caress. When he pressed a kiss lower along your abdomen, letting his lips linger as he descended toward your soaked, needy centre, you could feel the subtle tremor in your thighs as desire thrummed through your veins.

And at the first sweep of his tongue against your cunt, you gasped, arching instinctively, unsure if you were urging him closer or simply surrendering to the hot current of pleasure, he ignited within you. His mouth worked with spellbinding patience: soft, teasing licks evolved into deeper strokes, as though he was learning the exact pattern that would make you moan his name. He pressed inside with careful fingers, each gentle thrust and curl coaxing whimpers from your throat and turning your quiet pleas into urgent, breathless cries.

Your whispered “Willy…” sent a low, appreciative hum vibrating through him. The sensation rumbled against your flesh, drawing a choked gasp from your lips. He answered not only with a murmured response, but with the slow, confident rhythm of his entire body, guiding you steadily upwards through spirals of want and need. His movements were indulgent, never rushed—he took his time discovering every sound, every shiver, each subtle shift in your hips that told him where to linger and how to push you higher.

At last, you teetered on that trembling precipice, where pleasure overshadowed all thought and your world narrowed to the flick of his tongue, the press of his fingers, and the irresistible warmth of his breath against your most sensitive flesh. When you finally fell over the edge, it was a sublime, shattering release. Each pulse of climax unfurled like a lingering echo, radiating through every nerve, and he stayed there with you, unhurried and attentive, guiding you through the crest and down the other side. He murmured soft praises against your inner thigh, his voice low and full of pride as you shuddered and sighed, slowly regaining your breath in his arms.

When you had finally caught enough air to open your eyes, he looked up, a satisfied tilt to his lips. “I knew you liked me shaved,” he chuckled darkly, voice still carrying that husky edge, each word rolling out like a new temptation.

You managed a shaky laugh, cheeks flushed, your heartbeat still thudding in your ears. It was disarming to see him like this—so confident and just a little bit smug, that playful glint in his eyes as if he’d uncovered some delicious secret about you. And he had, really. He’d learned exactly how to unravel you, how to break down your uncertainty into pure sensation. The intimacy of shaving him, guiding that blade along his jaw, had been a quiet invitation to trust, and now he’d repaid that trust by showing you how thoroughly he could please you.

Your voice came out softer than you intended. “I wasn’t sure at first,” you admitted, still slightly breathless. “But I think I’m convinced.” Your gaze flickered over him, noting the flush on his neck, the relaxed set of his shoulders.

He pressed a lazy kiss to your belly, his hair brushing your skin. “I’d say you’re more than convinced,” he teased, his voice dipping as he straightened and moved up beside you. The mattress dipped under his weight as he settled in closer, still so close that you could feel the warmth of him. He trailed a hand along your arm, fingers grazing the sensitive spots he knew by heart.

The way he looked at you—possessive but tender, amused but grateful—made you blush anew. “You know,” you said softly, your own voice gaining steadiness as the rush of orgasm faded to a warm glow, “I might just have to handle your grooming more often. If this is the thank you, I get…” You left the sentence hanging, a bold hint that even surprised you.

A low growl of appreciation escaped his throat, and he cupped your jaw gently, guiding your lips to his in a slow, indulgent kiss. This one wasn’t about driving you mad or pushing you over any edge. It was about sealing the moment, acknowledging that something unspoken and profound had passed between you.

As he pulled back, he spoke quietly, sincerity softening his tone. “Any time you want to remind me how good we are together… just say the word.” He gave you that crooked grin you adored, the one that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made him look both mischievous and undeniably sweet.

[shewrites02]

Forgive Me, if I Break You |Zoro x Reader| Part I

Part II Part III Part IIII

Trigger warnings: Domestic assault, Alcohol, verbal abuse, Sexual implications-almost light smut if you squint. THIS FIC WILL CONTAIN DARK CONTENT ! MINORS DNI !

A/N: This will be my very first series on tumblr, I am excited and petrified lol. I know this fic contains some sensitive subjects/material/feelings I just hope that I am able to handle them with care and do them justice.

This story is inspired by @turtletaubwrites , all her writing really lol, but “A Good Catch” Shank x Reader story sparked the idea that lead me here. You owe it to yourselves to give her works a read ! Thank you again for sharing and allowing others to be inspired!

Request: Open

Word count: 8.1K

Leave a comment if you enjoy :)

For a brief moment you are able to convince yourself only you and Zoro reside on the beach- on the island. Zoro wraps around your shoulders to draw you into his chest. He rests his head on top of yours when you lean to lay against him. The two of you stare up at the twinkling stars.

The chill of the breeze rises goosebumps on your exposed flesh. The cold grows harsher the further into the night it gets. Zoro's skin is warm against yours. The heat that radiates off him compensates for the thin blanket that encases both of you. Part of you wished you had enough foresight to have brought thicker blankets, but the indulgent feeling of the swordsman's bare skin against yours, quickly dismisses the fleeting thought.

Zoro keeps you close. His arm drapes over you, practically forcing your body on top of his. Using the tip of his finger, he swirls circles lightly on your shoulder. Part of you believes the swordsman enjoyed feeling your bare skin just as much as you did his. The circles are replaced with small kisses, trailing up until Zoro's lips are at the edge of your jaw.

"I wouldn't have taken you for the sex on the beach type." He offers you one of those genuine, uninhibited laughs. The kind that forces his lips into a smile, and crinkles the edge of his eye. The laugh that made your bones shudder every time you were lucky enough to hear it.

"I guess there's a lot you don't know about me, Roronoa." You tease. He presses a kiss into your temple in response. You can feel his smile against your skin.

"I guess there is."

Silence befalls the two of you. Comfortable, but heavy. Two more days. That is all the time you and the pirate have left. The intrusive reminder was becoming difficult to ignore. Two more days before you would have to give up his comfort. Two more days before it is back to darkness and lonely nights...

You almost forgot life could feel this good. That love could feel this good. Your heart clenches in your chest at the thought of a loveless life. A life without Zoro.

"Tell me something." The swordsman demands.

Your face scrunches in confusion. Zoro looks down to meet your eyes once you don't respond. His expression is soft, sad, but a small grin still rests on his lips.

"Tell me something about yourself. Anything."

You ponder for a moment, ciphering through the pieces of yourself worthy of the swordsman. Finding it difficult to have something to share.

"Summer is my favorite season. I love the feeling of the sun against my skin... it makes me feel free."

"Your turn! Tell me something!" You demand before Zoro has an opportunity to respond. His face softens more with each passing second.

"...I'm going to miss you."

Zoro nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, leaving only his reddened ears for you to see. His green hair ruffles underneath your chin and along your cheek.

"I know- we only have two days left, but if I don't tell you this now, I don't think I ever will."

You can hear the deep breath he makes, as if preparing himself. His hold on your waist tightens some. When he continues his voice is barely a whisper.

"I love you... I love you so much the thought of you leaving-" The swordsman does not continue. Allows his words to sit in the air.

Your eyes close at his proclamation. Your brain pauses as if needing a moment to scribe this into your memory. Zoro trembles lightly against you in anticipation. You are sure to have a heart attack if your pulse does not slow. If your heart doesn't stop trying to violently claw its way out your chest and into the swordsman's hands. 

Listening to his sentiments is the most euphoric torture you've ever experienced. You know there's an ask in his proclamation, understand that he expects an answer.

"I love you too Zoro, so much it scares me." You confess. "... I wish I could stay."

Zoro lifts his head just enough to plant a kiss to your neck. A sigh falls from his lips. You hope it's of relief, but it sounds more of disappointment.

Stay.

You and the pirate both knew this beach was home to neither one of you.

"Me too." He whispers.

-

Though you shouldn't find joy in their misfortune, you find yourself thanking the Marine admiral that drove the Strawhat pirates your way. Thanking this tiny island for having such a lengthy waitlist for materials. Every second you get to spend with Roronoa Zoro is truly a priceless gift.

Zoro's smile is the widest you've seen it as he guides you around, giving you a tour of their ship. "The Sunny". The captain was sure to inform you of the name immediately after your boarding. Their shipwright had done an amazing job with the repairs. No evidence of their prior squabble remained.

Zoro tugs your hand along to follow him, a wide grin still on his face. Part of you curses the swordsman for gatekeeping his smile for so long. Holding out on a treasure in spite of your limited time. You could hate him for it , but he pays it forward so often . Reserving a special tenderness just for you.

"I want to show you something." He announces pulling you along.

The sight of seeing the entire ocean from the crow's nest is breathtaking. The sun sets on the horizon, its rays beam off the water. The ripples in the water make the illusion of twinkles. It's a hard sight to take your eyes off of. You never remembered the sea gleaming this way back home.

"We can sleep up here?" Zoro hinted. His voice is small, meek, you almost think he is fearful you might reject him. The stoic swordsman invites you to share a night in his favorite spot...

How could you deny him that memory?

"That sounds great Zoro."

The smile that spreads on his lips wider than the one on the deck of the sunny. You feel that resentful sting in your heart once again, quickly soothed by the swordsman's warmth.

"Stay right here." With a kiss on your cheek he is gone.

When Zoro returns his arms are full of blankets and pillows. He drops them to the floor and with as much earnestness as a kid at a sleepover , sets up the makeshift bed. He leans the pillows against the wall opposite of the windows, spreading one blanket fully before lazily dropping the others.

Once satisfied with his work, Zoro offers you his hand to join him. His back is against the wall. You lay in his arms. The two of you listen to the peaceful lull of the water.

"Tell me one more time." The swordsman whispers in your ear

It is so warm in his embrace. He Nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck, littering you with light kisses awaiting your response. There's no need for clarification. You understand his request.

"I love you Zoro... God, do I love you."

The giggle that erupts from your lips is involuntary. Could never hide how having the swordsman close affects you. Zoro squeezes your shoulders at the confession. Mules his satisfaction just loud enough for you to hear him. If you concentrated enough you were sure you could feel the pirate's pace quicken at your words.

"I love you too doll."

You were going to miss this... The feelings of Zoro's arms wrapped around you. Firm, but so gentle. Going to miss how the stoic swordsman gives you his heart to handle on a silver platter whenever the two of you are alone.

"...Excited to go home?" Zoro asks, As if sensing the tension that exudes from you. The reason the air was heavy against your chest. The reason he held you a little tighter tonight than usual. The colossal size elephant in the room...

This is your first and last night on the Sunny.

"I'm going to miss you." You respond softly.

Zoro kisses your temples . You aren't sure if he is trying to soothe your anxieties or his. You feel the pressure of his head laid against yours.

"I'm going to miss you too." The swordsman confesses.

You swallow harshly, refusing to sully your last night with tears. Don't deserve to wallow in self pity. You look up to face him, bringing your hand to lightly caress the side of his cheek. You don't deserve his comfort, his futile attempts to bring you peace of mind.

You are going to break him.

Absolutely. positively. Shatter him.

"I'm so happy you wrecked that tiny little boat." Zoro mumbles against your skin. Giving your hand a small kiss. The memory is a bittersweet recollection.

The sun had a personal vendetta against you and the heat was proof. It was Scorching. Sweltering. Neither adjective seemed strong enough. The rays blinded you as you blinked open your eyes. Meet with clear blue skies.

Were you dead? Was this some preliminary to hell?

There's muffled noises in the background. People? Animals?... Monsters? Your brain couldn't distinguish. Too busy using its power to attempt to wriggle your fingers beneath you. Sand?

"Are you okay?"

The first thing you noticed was green hair. The second was his handsome face, and lastly his swords. Three swords. A handsome three sword swordsman, your brain had finally deduced. Although you still had not answered his question.

He kneeled to the right of you, looming over your face so your eyes met him.

"Hey woman, you okay?" The man repeated his tone a bit more gruff than before. The way his brow slightly twitched implied he wouldn't be repeating himself for a third time.

"Where am I?"

The swordsman leaned back as you slowly pushed your torso up from the sand. Surveying the area, you took note of the ocean a few feet away, the large coconut trees behind you nestled by the rustling bushes that perimeter the beach. A group emerges from the foliage, filled mostly with smiles, though you could make out a few complaints.

"There's the dumbass!" A blonde haired man pointed over. His expression seemed to soften drastically once he noticed you. a wide smile replacing his scowl. " Oh mademoiselle."

You look up at the swordsman when you notice his grimace. The same twitch of the brow he had displayed earlier, except now they were furrowed to the center of his face in a frown.

"Zoro! I thought I said 'stick with the group'!" An orange haired woman reprimanded as she and the others approached.

"Zoro?" You repeated to the swordsman, who still eyed you intently. He nodded.

"Are you okay?"

He seemed to cave now that he had noticed the bruises that covered you. you went to pull your robe around your shoulders to cover yourself, but the fluffy material was nowhere to be found. It's only then you noticed your slippers were gone too. bare feet embedded in the sand. you were left only in the slip gown you had left in.

"I'm fine." You mutter pushing yourself from the ground so you could stand. Your eyes scatter the wide beach, if maybe you could find your boat washed ashore you could find your robe.

"I think that's your boat." The swordsman, Zoro, pointed over to the pile of driftwood floating around a small sea stack on the edge of the shore. The gasp that left your lips was guttural.

"I'm a doctor, I can help if you're injured." The small reindeer pleaded as he approached.

"Where am I?" You repeated.

"According to this map, where on Shinryoku Island, just off the coast of..." The orange hair woman wrestles with the map in her hand for a second longer before lowering it to meet you. "A village called Gekka."

"You're bleeding." The swordsman- Zoro said pointing to the cut that trailed your calf. He went to reach for you, but you refused his help. Stepping back to avoid his touch, your weight landed on your injured calf. Your body hit the sand with a loud thud.

The blonde hair man let out a cry. He went to run to your aide, but another woman, a devil fruit user, had blossomed hands to grab the man's ankles. Stopping him in his tracks.

Again, Zoro kneeled beside you, this time he did not try to touch you. He even tried to tuck his swords further out his reach as if that were to bring you some comfort.

"We are not going to hurt you... let my friend help you."

You agreed with a small nod of your head. Not seeing much choice you had otherwise. Cautiously the reindeer approached.

"My name is Chopper." He said taking a seat beside you. Riffling through his backpack he began to pull out gauze and alcohol pads.

"How'd you get stuck out here anyway?" The man in the straw hat asked.

"That's none of your business Luffy!" Zoro scolds.

"I got caught in a storm, my boat capsized- I don't really know what happened after that."

Strawhat hummed in satisfaction at your answer. Assumed that it was more so from getting his way, than your actual response.

"Where were you headed- if you don't mind me asking." The devil fruit user asks.

Your mind tumbled for an answer. Where were you going? 'Just away' didn't seem like a sufficient enough answer. Especially when you had only made it to the other side of your little island.

"Home." You lie, regretting the moment it fell from your lips.

"We can take you!" Strawhat offers gleefully, a smile spreads the whole length of his face. One that shows all his teeth. "You know, since your tiny boat is smashed."

"Maybe we should repair our own ship before we start giving out rides!" The orange haired woman scolds.

By the log pose on her wrist you assume she is a navigator. log pose. In your fervid flee you hadn't even thought to grab a log pose. No money. No clothes. No food. Just you and the boat. The woman's question started to echo in your ears- 'Where were you going?'

pathetic. useless. how could you be so stupid-

"I'll have the sunny fixed up in a super amount of time, don't you worry Captain!" The cyborg- shipwright assured.

"So it settled, after Sunny is repaired we will take you home!"

"You didn't even let her answer Luffy." The navigator reprimands.

Suddenly more than just the swordsman, began to eye you expectantly. Your boat was smashed into a million pieces, along with your chances of ever escaping this island. There was nowhere left for you to go.

"Okay."

The swordsman lets out a small chuckle that brings your attention back to him. Amusement has taken the place of that  somber expression previously on Zoro's face. 

"I guess I should thank Luffy for pissing off the marines. If it wasn't for that we would have never met."

The smile you give in response is weak, but it is all that you can muster. You drop your hand from Zoro's face so that you can face forward to look out the windows. Don't have the strength to face the swordsman as you speak.

"Thank you Zoro, for loving me. It's been so long since I've felt like this."

"You don't have to thank me." He says without missing a beat. "It's an honor to love you."

-

You can hear it already. The cheers of the villagers. Ringing in your ears like an alarm. The palms of your hands are cold, clammy. You're thankful for the blistering sun. Won't have to explain the sudden sweat that beads at your brow. The praise draws nearer as the town wall comes into view. A large white stone arch entrance, adorned with ornate olive leaf carvings. A wreath centering the wide gated structure. 

"You okay?" Zoro asks, reaching out to grasp your hand. The thumping of your heart almost drowns out his voice. Quickly, before he can grab you, you snatch your hand away. Awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck to mask the jerky movement. With a feigned smile you glance over at him.

"Yeah." You lie. The furrow of his brow alludes  to his disbelief, but the pirate does not press any further. Two guards meet you, as you all approach, bending at the waist before offering a kind genuine smile.

"We are so glad to have you home Lady Misatori. " 

"We were all so worried about you."

Their voices are difficult to make out over the applause, but your temporary crewmates had heard your title all the same. The bewilderment is clear on their faces. Perhaps they hadn't asked any questions yet, but they were sure to come. 

"We thought we lost you, and so soon after losing your f-"

"Thank you. I'm glad to be home safe." You smile, offering a kind nod then proceed to guide your friends through the barrier.

Citizens fill the streets of the town with smiles of joy and tears of relief. Although people stand shoulder to shoulder, essentially on top of one another trying to get a glimpse of your return, the path before you all is split like the red sea. Free of impediment, you all travel up the hill along the unpaved path, accompanied by praise the entire way.

As you walk, you're nauseated at the sight before you. The homes that laid in rumble just beyond your line of sight. The crowd posed as the perfect distraction, drawing the pirates' attention away from the destruction. You probably wouldn't have noticed yourself if the lemon grove, your mother's favorite place, wasn't missing from the countryside. The homes central of the village, easily eyed by the public, seem to be the only ones spared from the Chief's rampage

"Are they throwing you a parade?" The pirate captain asks, a wide grin on his face. If his eyes fill with any more admiration they may turn to stars.

You let out a pained laugh, dismissively waving away Luffy's question. The irony. A parade. This was more kin to a walk of shame. The cheers of the people, the chorus to your persecution. The Strawhats nor the villagers none the wiser. The others do not chime in, but you are sure they are just as curious as their captain.

A tiny castle resides at the top of the hill. Your home. Nothing like the regal structures you've heard stories about while stranded on the beach with the Srawhats, but sizable all the same. Once you arrive you can see him sitting at the castle steps with a wide smile on his face. As he watches you approach he stands, outstretching his arms attempting to welcome you into a hug.

"Darling! I thought I'd never see you again, I'm so relieved."

You feel the moment Zoro's eye falls on you, there's an unrelenting squeeze on your heart. Don't need to look his way to know the frown that has settled on his face. Know anger has taken over his expression.

"Darling?" The swordsman mutters to you.

It's as if you are a marionette, operated by the sound of his voice the way your body moves on its own. abandoning the green haired pirate to walk into the man's deceitfully warm embrace.

"I'm home now." You respond feeling the shackles being placed back on your ankles with each word slipped out your mouth.

"Introduce me to your friends." He demands, releasing your hold just enough to allow you both to face them.

It's impossible not to allow your gaze to immediately fall on the swordsman. To see the heartbroken look in his eye. His eye glued to the way the man's hands rested around your waist. A frown seared onto his brows just as you had expected, but when he finally meets your gaze his expression-

"These are the Strawhat pirates. This is their captain Monkey D. Luffy." You turn your attention to the captain unable to watch as the next words come out your mouth. "Luffy. This is Lee Misatori... my Husband."

"Chief Misatori." He corrects, chuckling lightly while reaching out to shake Luffy's hand.

"They saved me from the kidnappers, then graciously offered to bring me home."

For the first time since you arrived home, all eyes weren't on you. The strawhats had all turned their attention to the first mate. All mouths slightly agape awaiting his reaction. It isn't hard to predict what the swordsman will give you. Rage.  Grief.  Anguish.

"Husband?" Zoro parrots back to you.

The swordsman looks broken, shattered to a million pieces in front of you. The waves of emotion clearly passed on his face. An unusual display from the reserved first mate. Confusion, sadness, then anger. Only anger.

You give him pleading eyes. Can only hope that he does not make a scene here. Willing to give the swordsman all the time to yell at you later. 

Maybe he notices the way your eyes implore him to play along. Maybe it is genuinely shock that drives him, but the swordsman removes the hand he had placed on his sword's hilt then walks away.

"Oh god, he's going to get lost." The cook mumbles trailing behind him.

-

The last taste of freedom leaves your tongue as you hear the tall wrought iron double doors close behind you. Not Nearly enough to satiate your appetite. Lee stops at the bottom of the grand staircase, turning to face the pirate crew.

"I can't thank you enough for returning my wife... I haven't been the same since she went missing." He smiles over at you squeezing your hand, he has refused to let you go since you've gotten back.

"Please, let us repay your kindness. Stay a few days, our housekeeper can show you to your rooms? "

"We'd love to!" Luffy agrees. 

"Do you mind if y/n escorts us though? We just can't quite bear to let her go just yet." Nami asks, a tooth achingly sweet smile on her face. Her voice is a tone of amiable you've never heard before.

Lee digs his nails into the back of your hand at the mention of your departure. His face shows none of the signs of hesitation you can feel coursing through him . That same inviting smile is still on his lips.

"Sure." Lee grits out through his teeth. He turns to look down at you, lowering his volume so it is reserved for you. "Come right back when you're done !"

The Strawhats are kind enough to wait until they bombard you with questions. Know better than to ask in mixed company. When you push through the door to show Nami her bedroom , all the pirates follow. They stand in the suite staring, awaiting your anticipated explanation

"I- I did not mean to lie to all of you." Tears begin to swell in your throat, tears that don't deserve to fall. Tears you choke and swallow down. 

"Are you a princess?" Chopper asks.

"I- uh" you stammer, finding the words to formulate the precarious situation you are in. "My father was chief of the village. I am his only child, but as a woman I cannot inherit his title. So whomever is chosen to be my husband is to be his predecessor. Lee was chosen to be my betrothed six months ago.  "

"So You've been married for six months?" Usopp asks, his face filled with confusion.

You nod.

"So you lied to Zoro?"

It is posed as a question, but the captain lets the words fall out his mouth like fact. Zoro- His heart broken face flashes in your mind. A look you were sure you would remember even well into old age. It takes everything in you not to wince at the image. 

"I really do love him, Luffy. It's not- that simple."

"So explain it to us, because right now all we see is a woman who hurt our friend." Nami announces. The rest of the crew nod, seemingly sharing her sentiments.

"A month after the wedding my father suddenly died. Lee was appointed Chief the next day."

"You're a Chieftess." Robin announces.

"I have a duty to these people- my people. I won't leave them to suffer, even if it means... me and Zoro end up heartbroken."

Duty. That was something that all the Strawhats could understand. Even if your actions were an enigma to them. 

"Will he ever forgive me?" You ask no one in particular. Hoping that someone will ease your worries, provide you with comfort. Instead the room falls silent.

"Why did you lie to your husband about how we all met? We didn't save you from anyone."  Nami asks, her tone seems softer this time.

"Lee can't know I spent two months on the other side of the island. please." You plead.

-

Your fingers rest on the door knob to the shared bedroom. Once you cross the threshold, that was it. The last of your freedom would truly be stripped away. You caress the knob lightly, as if willing it to disappear at your touch. as if thoughts alone could vanish the tall doors that stood before you. 

Lee does not face you when you walk into the room. Keeps his back turned to display his dismay. He is waiting. you know what for, an apology- wants you to grovel on your knees for him. Even if he  believed you had gotten kidnapped, you still left him and that was a punishable sin.

"I missed you." He lies. "Come here."

When Lee finally does face you , his lips have curled into a devilish smile. He reaches out to draw you in, letting his free hand rest against your cheek. He whispers when he speaks.

"Do you have something you want to tell me?"

He wraps his arms around your shoulder to bring you into his chest, forcing you into a hug. 

"I'm sorry I was gone so long... I missed you too." The words tasted bitter as they fell. Like your tongue had forgotten the flavor of empty endearments since being in the swordsman's presence.

The Chief draws away just far enough to examine your face. His hand returns to wrap firmly around your jaw to squeeze your cheeks. His eyes pierce yours.

"When I first heard you went missing- I thought you had left me, run off somewhere. But you wouldn't do that, would you? ... leave me?"

"Of course not, Honey. You are my husband, I'm not going anywhere." You answer, unsure if the words are a reminder for him or yourself. Despite the panic that starts to grow in the pit of your stomach, you remain still. Maintaining the focus your husband demands.

"I'm so happy to be home."

Lee hums in satisfaction at your response. Rehearsed. Polished. Perfect. Just like you were to be. Just how he wanted you to be. He sweeps a strand of your hair out your face. The gentle touch is a precursor to the kiss he presses to your check. Your participation prize, a reward for a job well done. For remembering your training.

Lee drops his hands from you, done playing, then turns to make his way into the shared bathroom. In spite of your efforts a sigh of relief escapes. Finally feeling as though you could breathe without the man inspecting your every move.

"The swordsman- what's his name?" Lee asks, calling out so you can hear him in the other room.

"Zoro."

"He seemed quite..." Lee pauses trying to find the right word. "Smitten with you."

The air in your lungs leaves just as quickly as it came. You curse whatever god has decided to play cruel tricks with your heart. You have returned home. Return to your responsibilities.  Was that not enough?  Did you have to be taunted with the swordsman  too? haunted by everything the two of you couldn't have. 

You stay quiet, won't risk incriminating yourself so early into your return. The man does not want an answer anyway. The statements that fall from his lips are law, not opinion.

"Do you think he has a crush on you?" Lee asks amused.

He walks into the room, wants to analyze your features while you think. The smile on his face is deviously wide. The chief was a beast and you were his prey. The innocent question, a trap set to devour you whole.

"I wouldn't know. I didn't spend much time with the swordsman, mainly just the navigator." You lie. knowing the real question he wants an answer to. Your husband nods, no indicator of satisfaction or delight.

"Get ready for dinner. Your friends are going to join us."

-

The small dining room houses a long horizontal table, a glass top that sits on gold regally sculpted legs. The table holds just enough room for the pirate crew, your husband, and you to sit comfortably. You sit at one end  while Lee the other. The Strawhats fill the seats on both sides. It is hard to keep your eyes from drifting to the empty seat to the right of you, and the identical opening mirrored on the opposite side.

"Will the swordsman and cook be joining us? Sanji and-" Lee asks Luffy, before the captain can answer he turns his attention to you. "Honey- what did you say his name was? Z- Zo-"

"Zoro." You say ending the sounds Lee mutters aimlessly trying to recall the name.

"Yes, Zoro! Will Zoro and Sanji be joining us, Captain?"

"I don't know." Luffy sings innocently. "Zoro seems pretty mad a-"

Before Luffy can finish his explanation there is a shuffling at the front door. It's loud, drawing the attention of everyone at the table. Expectantly staring at the entrance to the dining room, you all wait to see the source of the commotion. A few seconds pass before the culprits reveal themselves.

Sanji and Zoro.

The cook shoves the swordsman into the dining hall forcefully, although the smile on his face does not wain for a second. His pearly whites compensating for the scowl on Zoro's face.

"Let me apologize for our tardiness. Moss-head got us lost." Sanji announces to the room though he speaks to your husband.

As Lee responds with some feigned hospitable response, you watch the swordsman. Watch his eyes dance down the length of the table. Know he is hoping, praying the only seats left isn't anywhere near you.

You can pin the moment he deflates. Note how quickly his eye leaves yours. Never seeking them out as he accepts his fate, and walks the length of the table. Zoro chooses to sit to your right, leaving Sanji to sit to your left.

The cook spares you a small grin as he takes his seat. It is filled with warmth, but something else is hidden within it. In the way he doesn't flash his teeth to give you a full smile. It's disappointment. Pity.

"Y/n said you saved her from her kidnappers... you must have a formidable crew Luffy." Although masked in praise, you hear the challenge in Lee's statement. Emphasized by the way he addressed it to the captain specifically.

"Oh yeah, Me and My friends are super strong! That's the only way I am going to be King of the pirates!" Luffy exclaims. Nothing but mirth in his tone, completely oblivious to the antics of the chief. Lee lets out a laugh in response.  Part of you believes he may genuinely find amusement from the pirate, a bigger part of you knows that isn't the case. 

Now that the table is full Lee orders the kitchen staff to start dinner.

"Can I get a bottle of Sake?" Zoro mumbles to the woman who fills his glass with water.  The woman nods, then goes to fulfill his request. It's difficult not to be jealous. The swordsman gets to indulge, to drown his thoughts. That is not a luxury you have. The days of sake and beer flowing freely forever to be memories.

You plopped down beside the green haired pirate, your body making a thud as it hit the sand. His eyebrows raised to his temple giving way to his surprise. For a split second you found yourself wondering whether it was that you'd gone out your way to seek the swordsman out, or if it was that you'd finally decided to have an ounce of fun that had him so shocked.  The giggle that erupted from seeing his expression kept you from pondering for too long. 

"You really can't hold your liquor." The swordsman muttered, his lips curling up slightly. The closest to a smile you had seen them get in the four weeks you had all been together.

"I'm not allowed to drink at home so my tol-"

"Not allowed?" Zoro cut you off. Your eyes grew wide at the repetition of your words, cursing the alcohol for making you speak so freely. Your mouth opened to protest, back peddle, before you could the pirate let out a laugh.

"Is it because you're such an annoying drunk?" He teased

The alcohol lowered your inhibitions, kept  you from fighting against the visible drop your expression made.  You tried to laugh, dismiss the joke for what it was- a joke, did not want Zoro to notice your discomfort, but it was to no avail.

You had come to learn in these past weeks that the swordsman noticed everything.

Zoro reached to place his hand over yours, but hesitates. You assumed he wasn't trying to make you any more uncomfortable than you already were.  You blamed the alcohol for seeking out his affection. Intertwining your finger with his, so he  couldn't withdraw.

Zoro averted his gaze away from you to the waves calmly crashing into the shore. He rubbed his thumb lightly against yours.  Even with the alcohol to coax your action, you still trembled  in the hands of the pirate. Even so, Zoro's hold was strong, steady. 

"I think this is the first time I've seen you laugh. It's good to see you relaxing... was starting to think you don't trust us."

" I don't- can't-"

You stopped speaking. The only way to stop the liquor from forcing more incriminating words out your mouth.  Needed a moment to collect yourself, not used to the swirling feeling that impeded your thoughts.

"I have to protect myself. It's just me."  You muttered.

"... Doesn't have to be. Not here." He squeezed your hand as he turned to meet you. "I wouldn't let anything happen to you."

You had to fight the shiver that threatened to crawl down your spine, reminding yourself that four weeks was not enough time to know anyone, let alone a group of pirates. Trust was not something you could not afford to give out. The swordsman could not be an exception. .

"My crewmates are kind, probably too kind. You don't have to worry about them- well maybe the shit cook, but I'll make sure he doesn't touch you."

Zoro offered you a full smile, one that sunk your heart to the bottom of your stomach. Maybe it was the alcohol that charmed his words, you couldn't be sure, but they had affected you all the same. The pirate returned his attention to the ocean, leaving you relieved he did not expect a response.

"With such a strong crew I can only imagine the burden y/n must've been." Lee lets out an obnoxious laugh. It drags your attention to the table. "It's a good thing she is pretty. Thank you again for bringing her home safely."

The crew has fallen a bit quiet. The only one to respond is the oblivious captain with an enthusiastic "Your welcome." Seconds later he is muttering a pained cry , shooting Nami a confused glance.  

The awkward silence is relieved by the entrance of the kitchen staff. When Zoro's sake bottle reaches the table, Lee is quick to take notice. A small grin spreads on his face. You see the moment he gets the idea, the light bulbs as clear as his iris'. 

"Ahh what a wonderful idea swordsman. We should all share a toast- to the return of my wife!"

The staff moves quickly to bring out sake for the group, handing one to Luffy despite his protest- and answering his fifth question about dinner. When the woman gets to you she sits down a flute of sparkling cider. 

Zoro is the first to notice. His eye twitches over briefly, but he does not speak.

"You're not drinking love?" Sanji asks, his voice hushed, but your husband always keeps an ear out for endearments dotted upon you. 

"Oh y/n doesn't drink, we decided once we got married she would stop. Right honey?"

The smile on your face burns in a way you know you deserve. Your throat is traitorous for allowing a knot to form, for making your force the words out, when they had once come with ease. You had done this , acted , so many times before but- acting while on display for the swordsman felt like a special type of hell curated just for you.

"Yes Dear."

"She just gets so annoying it's embarrassing- no way for a woman, let alone a chief's wife to act." 

Lee is answering Sanji , but his eyes are on you. Their cold, pitiless, although his voice drips with sweetness.  The gleeful look on his face never waivers in spite of the growing discomfort in the room.  Nami and Robin look to you for guidance, looking for approval to be outraged, clearly not wanting to laugh along. The smile on your face soothes their worries.

"And I'd never want to do anything to embarrass honey. Why don't you Give your toast hun." You urge. 

This was punishment for how you hurt the pirate. Nothing less of  Divine retribution. You fight not to meet Zoro as you feel his eye linger on you.  There is no effort to hide the disdain on his face. There is an angered confusion easily seen in the way his brows furrow and his lips fight back a snarl. 

"To the return of my beautiful wife, and to the Strawhat pirates." 

Everyone raises their glasses, but Luffy nor Zoro take a drink. There was a part of you relieved at the tension in the air. That your friends are uncomfortable with the indignities your husband throws at you. There were many dinners you sat through, cringing as the whole table laughed at his snide jokes. For a while you believed it your fault for being hurt,  too sensitive for not being able to laugh at your expense the way the others could. Lee always said you spoiled the fun when he reprimanded you later for not joining in.  

The silence is once again relieved by the kitchen staff entering ,bringing out the entrees. Luffy squeals with pure joy and anticipation. The captain had been waiting as patiently as he possible could to finally eat. The other plates have not even hit the table before he is half way through his pasta.  The sight is the only thing to bring a genuine smile on your face all night. 

"It's as good as you promised, y/n!" Luffy's mouth is full as he says his praises. 

"Eating with your mouth full is rude Luffy!"  Sanji lets out an exasperated sigh. The captain has a confused look on his face, though he has not taken any time to stop eating. 

"It's okay, I'm glad you like it, Luffy." 

"What about you Zoro, think the meal is everything my wife promised it would be?" 

Your mouth goes dry at the sound of the swordsman's name coming out of Lee's mouth. Suddenly starting to think you weren't as convincing as you thought earlier in the day. Lee had decided to take it upon himself to solve the mystery of the swordsman's feelings for you. 

There's some feigned solace in knowing Zoro probably hates you. That Lee would poke and prod to find the Strawhat's first mate merely  harbored resentment and ill will towards you. Though the process would be  painful. 

"The food is fine." Zoro responds, still looking at his plate. 

His dismissal only stoked the flames of Lee's infatuation more.  You can see the glimmer that raises in the chief's eyes. 

"I've never seen a swordsman with three swords..." Lee's voice leans more toward a mocking tone than an inquisitive one. 

"I'm a master of three sword style." 

"Zoro is gonna be the best swordsman in the world!" Luffy exclaims. 

"Really? I always assumed a swordsman who needed more than one blade was... overcompensating." Lee brings his glass to his lips to drink. The chuckle the cook fails to muffle deepens the scowl on Zoro's face. 

 Zoro glances over at the Chief then, for the first time since he walked into the dinning room, he makes eye contact with you.  It's difficult to not squirm under his gaze. Your cheeks burn under his stare, the warmth so violent it spreads the length of your skin.

A small crooked smirk creeps its way onto the swordsman's lips as he looks you over. This time the pirate lets out a laugh. It is the first display of joy he has shown since setting foot in your village.

"I don't have anything to overcompensate for." He takes a shot of Sake, licking his bottom lip to catch the drops that spill over. "I don't get any complaints." 

Zoro peaked up from in between your thighs. In spite of not being able to make out his lower half , you knew a crooked smile rested on his lips. That same cocky smile he wore every time he made you cum.  

"You tapping out on me princess?" He asked, giving the inside of your thigh a whisper of a kiss. The faint touch still has you jolting at the sensation.  The way Zoro's arms wrap around your  thighs kept you from going too far.  

"is too much Zo." You whined, hands clenched around the sand, leg limp over the swordsman's shoulders. 

Zoro spared you a merciful laugh as  he rested your legs on the sand. He leaned back on his heels to look at you. Sprawled lazily, dress hiked just enough to give him the access he begged for.  Sweat beaded at your brow not only from the heady force of your fourth orgasm, but the humid air.  A full smile appeared on Zoro's lips at the sight. 

The way his eye gleamed with adoration and love rivals the moon. His stare was enough to illuminate the entire beach. It took every bit of will you had to not shrink underneath him, to feel deserving of  the way he worshiped you.  

The pirate leaned down to hover over you, planting his hands into the sand, one on either side of your head.   He gently places a kiss to your lips then another.  You could still taste the way you coated him. 

"I'll spare you this time."  He mumbled , before laying on the sand next to you. 

Instinctively, you rolled your chest into the swordsman, lazily throwing your leg over his so it rested between his thighs. Even with your body pressed into his you craved to be closer to him. Although the swordsman had explored every inch of you, and you him, it never seemed to be enough.

Your cheeks up to your ears burned at the confession swelling in your throat. Embarrassment not great enough to keep it shoved down somewhere convenient- comfortable. Instead the sentiment clawed its way out tooth and nail. 

"You make me feel so good Zoro-"  

"Yeah? You trying to let the whole beach know with how loud you were yelling my name?" You slapped your hand into his chest forcing another laugh from the pirate. It did not deter him from continuing his teasing.  "I'm just saying, my crew is still pretty close, you could try to be quiet."  

"You're such an asshole! Now I'm not going to tell you the rest." You pouted. Your words are filled with malice although your tone and smile could not convey the same emotion.  Zoro chuckled then planted a kiss on your temple. 

"Tell me, please."  He implored, lips brushing against your ear.

It was hard to deny the swordsman anything when he asked so sweetly. Those manners are only allocated to you. Your eyes close while the words climb to the tip of your tongue. You turn your head away from Zoro completely. 

"You're the only man to ever make me orgasm." 

Zoro wrapped his fingers delicately around your chin. He tugged your face towards him. The fire that ignited in his eye was different than anything you'd seen from him before. There's a smile on his face, almost childlike in its giddiness. It was as if the notion was the best thing he'd ever heard in his life. 

The pirate crashed his lips into yours like they were the answer to his prayers.  Like he could pledge his devotion in your mouth and find salvation in your lungs.  Indignant. Needy. Desperate.  The two of you gasping heavily once separated. 

Zoro wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you into him, though not much space resided between the two of you to begin with. He kissed along your jaw down your neck until he reached your shoulder. 

"Fuck- Lemme do it one more time?" 

The small snickers coming from the pirate crew force your eyes to Lee. Immediately noting how his hands grip tightly around the napkin.  The Chief is not getting the reactions he is yearning for, hasn't realized this is far from some ordinary group of bandits he's dining with. You'd revel in the victory, if it hadn't meant your loss. 

"Chief Misatori, why don't you tell us more about your role? Y/n tells us you've recently moved into your position?" Robin asks. Her tone is so innocuous and innocent, it draws Lee from his testosterone filled rage. Your husband is eager at any opportunity to talk about himself, especially to a pretty woman. 

"Yes, after my wife's father passed I inherited his title. " 

"That must have been a lot of responsibility to take on so suddenly." Sanji adds. 

"It was, but I was hand picked for the job for a reason. It is work ,of course, but I can't imagine anyone else doing it." 

"I imagine you wouldn't implement any changes in policies considering being so new to power?" Robin phrases it as a question, but you see it for the shameless prying it is. The historian begging for answers as to why the townspeople, despite their cheers, seemed so riddled with grief. 

"I've made a few changes to ensure our people's safety. Y/n father was an amazing man, but- soft. "

There is an internal cringe at each mention of your father uttered from the newly appointed Chief's lips. Who was Lee to slander your father, the very man he has to thank for his title, The only reason he has this power to abuse so freely?

In the six months you had been married you watched Lee turn your village into something unrecognizable. The gates closed, patrol increased, and the villagers had been stripped of their voice entirely. The chief gave the final decree. Acted as judge, jury, and executioner. 

The villagers for the first time are fearful of what the chief's approach could mean for them. Constantly hoping to be spared from his wrath.  Too fearful to even speak ill of the chief in fear of his retaliation.  In fear their homes may look like the ones that resided in the countryside. 

Chief Lee Misatori is nothing  like my father hoped he would be. 

"A beloved man in the community, but he was never able to make the difficult decisions-" 

"Can we not discuss my dad, please honey." You plead, unable to sound any more like a beggar if you tried. There are tears swelling at the brims of your eyes at his mention. Angered you could not defend the man who raised you in the way that he deserved. Angry, your father had been deceived by such an evil man. 

These tears are harder to choke down. Prickly , and awkward the whole way down your throat. The swordsman reaches out to place his hand over yours, only grazing your fingertips as you draw your hand away. For the briefest moment you let your eyes flash to Zoro, praying the apology in your eyes is sincere enough to provide him any relief. 

Two times. Two times you had rejected the swordsman in this single day. Guilt floods your heart, taking up even more space than fear in your chest- despite the way Lee cuts his eyes  at you. 

"Of course  honey." He smiles.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Part II

A/N: I hoping you all enjoyed ! I'm thinking this story will only be apart 3 parts. I have most of the story written actually lol so the feedback I get on part 1 will determine when I release part two. If you would like to be on the tag list please let me know I would love to have you.

taglist: @dinuxia-bhm

[monamourbladie]

hi!! <3 im the anon who req the dan heng headcanons.. TYSM IT WAS AMAZING!!! OmG OMG OMG best idea ever. well not best idea ever. but imagine like blade is super distant and cold towards you as he normally is, right? but he secretly likes the reader for plot purposes. but one day, the reader is js like "oh well" and talks to someone else for a change, having fun w the other person instead of blade since blade 'doesnt' like them. would blade just stand there and watch knowing he cant rightfully do anything since it was partly his fault (and he has too much pride for himself), or would he try to get you to talk to him again?

HI ANON AHH tysm for the requests :D i’m glad you enjoyed it so much~! that’s a great idea i was so excited to write this one i tried to write it as fast as possible LOL

Secretly Loves You - Blade x F!reader

warnings: none~

You had been apart of the Stellaron Hunters for about a year now. You had grown the closest with Silver Wolf, as you both shared an intense love of games. You were picked up from their time on the Xianzhou Luofu for your healing capabilities and quickly became a core member of the crew.

Elio liked you and so did Sam, Silver Wolf adored you and Kafka respected you. But the person who you wanted to like you the most seemed to despise you.

Blade — Kafka’s golden boy (you always swore they had something for each other, but neither ever confirmed it and nobody could guess if they were together or not) Fierceness aside, he was absolute eye candy to you.

Blade was extremely closed off — it’s been like that since day one. It took him months and months to warm up to Silver Wolf (and now he treats her like an irritating little sister that he secretly adores but claims he hates), and even though it’s been almost a full year, you haven’t been able to break through to him just yet.

You didn’t exactly know why. It wasn’t like he was talkative and excitable to everyone else by any means, but he definitely showed at least some kind of enjoyment speaking with people. With you? It seemed like he absolutely hated you.

Maybe it was the fact that he hated being nursed back to health due to him wanting to die so badly. You never understood that, and were just simply doing your job to protect him.

You’ve lost count by now of how many times he complained to you about helping him was unnecessary. It irritated you, but you always smiled at him and told him you were just doing your job.

“I told you, I don’t need your help,” he grunted as you rubbed special Xianzhou healing oils on his back. You bit your lip as you continued to massage it into his skin, “Do you ever not complain?” you said teasingly as you pat his back playfully.

He only grunted in response. He hated having you see him like this. He was shirtless on the med bay table, sitting up with his chest bandage off for once. His upper chest was heavily scarred and destroyed from all the times Jingliu killed him over and over again. The first time you saw those wounds, you were determined to try and heal them so he wasn’t forced to wear as many bandages on the daily.

You were using special Xianzhou healing oils to increase the healing speed — and within a few months, you were noticing small bits of healthier skin, showing it was working.

“Complain all you want, Bladie, but it’s actually working to help you.” He glanced back at her with a glare, “I told you not to call me that, L/n.” His voice was bitter and cold as always to you.

It hurt, but eventually you grew thicker skin to it. It hurt especially because over the months you began to harbor a nasty crush on the immortal man.

Silver Wolf loved to tease you about it, and swore she would help get you two together. But little interactions like these with Blade helped cement in your mind that there was no way he saw you as anything more than an annoying healer.

What you didn’t know was that Blade actually harbored feelings for you, too.

Due to his painful past, he was very adamant about not getting close to anyone again out of fear he’d lose everyone he loves again — especially a lover.

He thought you were absolutely beautiful. He secretly loved the extra attention you were giving him, and although he wanted nothing more than eternal rest, he was thankful that you were giving him a distraction from the pain.

He just had no idea how to tell you. He had a reputation with the Hunters as being the cold and brooding one. He definitely wasn’t sure how to approach a girl he liked and say “Hey, I like you” without feeling like an absolute pathetic fool.

It stayed this way for months. Neither of you saying anything to the other that would let the other know you like each other. Until eventually, a new member on the medical team started to work for the Hunters — a man named Leon.

Leon was everything Blade was hoping he could be for you. He was handsome, he was nice, gentlemanly — he was attentive to you and could speak his heart. You and him quickly became close, and there were even some moments where Leon took care of Blade instead of you.

He absolutely was growing jealous over the man. Some nights Blade wondered if he could just kill Leon and get on with it and swoop you off of your feet, but being a romantic was not Blade’s strong suit by any means.

His final straw finally made him snap to go to Kafka for advice. After his weekly checkup with you, he got home and realized his bandages weren’t tight enough around his chest, so he had to go back to the med bay. As he walked back to the med bay he froze, seeing you kissing Leon from a distance.

He felt his anger consume him and he decided to just deal with the loose bandage and fix it himself. He stormed off as he felt the Mara flare up within him, making him angrier than he normally would’ve been.

Of course you’re moving on. Why wouldn’t you? He never made any move on you to let you know he liked you. Why would you risk waiting around when a perfect man for you was right there?

Blade found himself at Kafka’s door as he knocked. She opened it and frowned seeing Blade angry, “Bladie? What’s wrong?” she asked.

Blade pushed himself in the door and slammed it behind him, huffing in frustration, “Can I just fucking kill Leon already?”

Kafka raised as brow as she motioned for him to sit down on her couch. “You can’t kill the rookie. Why do you want to?”

Blade unbuttoned his shirt and jacket and slid it off of his arms, revealing his bandaged chest. “Can you fix these for me? Y/n’s too busy getting fucked to deal with it.”

Kafka bit her lip as she smirked. “Am i sensing jealousy from you? Over Y/n and the rookie?”

He grumbled as he shook his head, running his fingers through his tousled hair, “Would you just leave it and fix this shit for me?”

Kafka raised her hands in defense as she sat behind him, beginning to unravel the bandages. “You just want it tighter, right?”

“Yes,” he muttered, looking out at the photo of them all on her wall.

Blade, Elio, Sam, Silver Wolf, Kafka, and Y/n were in it. He felt his heart ache seeing her so happy beside Silver Wolf. She looked just as happy in the photo as she did leaning in to kiss Leon.

The image of them kissing was seared in his brain, and it made him angrier the more he thought of it.

Kafka, whose used her Spirit Whisper on Blade long enough to understand when he was angry, rest her hand on his shoulder. “Blade. Talk with me. Why are you so angry right now?” she asked, her voice gentle with him.

He was silent for a moment before realizing this might be his only shot for help. He sighed, “…It’s about Y/n. I… I like her,” he said, his gravelly voice low and soft as he spoke. Kafka was the only person he felt comfortable opening up around.

“And I’m angry that she can’t see that. She knows I have a hard time expressing myself. So why couldn’t she tell?” Kafka unintentionally let out a laugh at his commentary.

He turned around, glancing back at her confused, “You’re laughing at me? Seriously, Kafka?”

“No — it’s just… have you even attempted to tell her that you like her? Everything I ever see, you’re ignoring her, glaring at her when her back is turned, and badmouthing her whenever you’re alone with her and she’s patching you up. It hurts her, Bladie. I refuse to believe that you think you’ve made your feelings clear,” she replied.

Blade blinked in confusion. “But I like her. I don’t treat anyone differently than that.”

“Are you even aware of how many people think we’re dating?” Kafka asked him. “I’m sure she thinks we’re dating, too. She probably gave up and moved on with that rookie.”

“Gave up? Does she like me too?” Blade asked quickly, feeling a slight glimmer of hope. Kafka shrugged, “It’s so obvious. She definitely gave up trying since you made no effort to show you were interested.”

“Well — help me out, what am I supposed to do now? Did I fuck up already and lose her to that damn rookie?” he asked her.

Kafka sighed, sitting back against the couch. “I don’t know. I’d recommend asking her tomorrow and just pray that you have a chance still. I know you really like her.”

Blade grumbled at this and nodded, grasping at his shirt and sliding it back on over his head now that Kafka had finished bandaging him up.

“Yeah, well. I don’t know if I’m that lucky. She was kissing him and seemed to be very happy with it,” he said with a bitter tone. “Thanks.”

“If it comes to it, I can always pull strings and check with Elio-“

“No,” he said firmly, standing up to leave. “I don’t want to know the answer.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

The next day sometime after lunch, Blade headed to the cafeteria with his heart pounding. He had never felt this anxious before, not for a long, long time.

Just tell her you like her. She’s just confused, that’s all. It’ll be fine…

He saw you sitting alone at one of the cafeteria benches, obviously on your lunch break. He took in a breath and walked over, sitting across from you.

You looked up from your data pad and smiled, “Hi, Blade. Did you need me to fix your bandages already?” you asked sweetly.

He was embarrassed that he felt his cheeks burn from the kindness in your voice. “No. That won’t be necessary. Kafka fixed them last night.”

Your smile visibly fell a bit and Blade cringed at himself. “Oh, Kafka… right. Well, what did you need?”

“I’m not with Kafka,” he said quickly. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

“Wrong idea?” you raised a brow, curious as to where he was going. “Wrong idea about… you and Kafka?” you muttered. He could sense a bit of irritancy on your end at the thought of them together.

“Right. We’re not. But… you and that Rookie. Leon, right? Are you?” he questioned. You seemed surprised that he asked and you let out a soft nervous laugh, “W-well, no… but. I mean, it’s complicated, I guess.” you took a sip of your drink as Blade tensed up.

“I want us to be, because the guy I like really, really doesn’t like me. So I’m just cutting my losses and trying to move on, I guess. It just so happens Leon has an interest in me. I’m just anxious to make the jump,” you confessed. There was no way he’d figure out it was him, so you felt comfortable saying it.

“Don’t,” Blade quickly said. “Don’t date Leon.” You furrowed your brows at him, “I’m sorry, why do you care? As far as I’m aware, you hate being around me. Quite frankly, I’m shocked you’re even speaking to me right now.”

Blade felt offended that you believed so strongly that he hated you. “You think I hate you? Why the hell do you think that?” he questioned.

“Because you’re always so cold and closed off towards me! You always are grumpy whenever you have to speak to me and have me work on you, you’re closed off and never speak to me unless you absolutely have to, and it honestly hurts! I don’t know why you treat me this way, but I’m tired of it.”

Blade felt like a total idiot hearing you open up like that. Kafka really was right…

“I don’t… I don’t hate you,” he said quietly, averting his eyes out of embarrassment. “I like you, Y/n. I just had no idea how to deal with it. I figured you’d just… know.”

You couldn’t help your eyes widen at his confession. “You mean to tell me this entire time I’ve been trying to get over you, you just assumed I knew you liked me?” you gawked.

“Yes?” Blade replied. It was so obvious that he was so, so bad at relationships but clearly was trying hard. You could only giggle at this, shaking your head. “Jesus, Blade, you’re really something, aren’t you?”

Blade wasn’t really so sure how to answer your comment. You started to smile, “So, since you don’t want me to go out with Leon… I’m assuming you want to take me out on a date instead, right?” you asked.

Blade felt his cheeks flush again as he nodded, “I would love to.”

You smiled and stood up, walking over to him and leaning in. “I get off of work in 4 hours. Meet me at my room at 6, okay?” you said, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

You were shocked to see the man actually blush at your action. He looked up at you with a smile and nodded, “…Okay. I’ll see you at 6.”

[f1nalboys]

Takin' It - Bo Sinclair

Bo Sinclair x GN!AFAB!Reader

wrote this based off this one singular textpost i made when i was also high. enjoy

WORD COUNT: 695

WARNINGS: nsfw, pegging, bottom!bo, top!reader, reader uses a strap but does refer to it as a cock at one point, doggy style, making bo beg, face down ass up, degradation sorta, reader ended up way meaner than originally planned so enjoy that, vauge hints at bo being a dickhead outside of sex, like a vauge primal urge to fuck bo, both reader and bo are called a bitch, bo calls reader sweetheart/baby/bitch lol, proofread but im currently high and wrote this in an hour so.... take with that what you will <3

“F-fuck you!”

It never failed to make you laugh at just how often Bo ran his mouth. Whether it was in the morning when he decided the breakfast you cooked was too cold, or the afternoon when you had dropped the flashlight you were holding for him in the sweltering garage and he had berated you for an hour, or earlier in the night when he had made some snide comment. Or, like right now, when he was bent over the bed with the blankets gripped tight in his fingers and his face squished into the mattress. His mouth just never seemed to stop running.

“Shut the fuck up, wouldja?” You grunt, hips snapping forwards harshly, the sound of skin hitting skin filling the room followed by a sharp hiss from Bo, though it was slightly muffled, just like everything else he said. “How’s it feel, Bo, huh? I can feel you shaking under me.”

For once, Bo doesn’t answer you. You can just barely make out the stitched brow, the open mouth, the few tears that had slipped down his cheek mixing with the sheen of sweat that covered him in the darkness of the room. Your hand, which had been holding onto his hips for the last thirty minutes, dig into the plump flesh, eliciting another hiss and you can’t help but grin down at him when you feel the resistance as you push back inside him. 

“Aw, look at that, fuck. You love it, don’t you? Feeling my cock inside you like this, making you take it,” you grunt, your thrusts speeding up, getting harder. Briefly, you wonder if this is why Bo acted the way he did; being on top and feeling, seeing, smelling every change in your body and being overcome with an urge so interwoven with your body that you act without thinking? Wanting to get more from you and knowing you could give it if he just did it a bit harder, a bit faster, for a bit longer? “You better tell me or I’ll stop.”

Bo makes a choked noise, a sob, and you moan under your breath, sweat rolling down the back of your neck. “Fuckin’ bitch!” Bo spits and you start to pull out, both hands resting on his hips to push him off of you, only another inch or two of the silicon left inside of him, and his hand reaches behind him to blindly grab at your hip. “D-Don’t! Dontchu fuckin’ dare!”

“You better get to begging then, bitch.” You say, leaning over and grabbing him by the hair like he has done to you time and time again, yanking him up. The toy is forced back inside him, deeper than it’s ever been, and you can feel the vibrations of a moan as your other hand rests against his throat. His head, being held back in the angle it was, reveals to you the perfect view of his fucked out face. 

Tanned and lightly freckled skin, weathered from days outside, covered in sweat and a redness that went from his nose to the tips of his ears. His eyes are half-lidded, eyes rolling into the back of his head every few seconds. You laugh at the drool that had collected in the corner of his mouth. A tug on the brown locks threaded between your fingers brings him back to the surface just enough to break his resolve.

“Fuckin’ shit! M’sorry, baby, keep going, alright? I do love it, shit, I do, Y/N! God, j-just like that, sweetheart, don’t you stop, alright? Christ, when’d you get this fucking strong, huh?” He asks, accent so much thicker when he’s not thinking about it. A brief squeeze on his throat and now that shit-eating grin is back on his face and he’s rocking his hips back, fucking himself on the toy as you catch your breath behind him. “You like given’ it to me, darlin’?”

You grin, leaning in and nipping at his neck. “I get the appeal.” You whisper, jerking your hips forwards and taking back over for him. “Now hurry the fuck up and cum or you don’t get to tonight.”

[mavrintarou]

[2:18 PM] Miya Osamu A/B/O

Hello - sorry for temporarily abandoning you all. I've been needing lots of motivation to finish WYE. Thought in the meantime, I could get reinspired again... and this is what I got. Completely smutty alpha Osamu.

Warning: My A/B/O works are never safe for work... completely explicit content that I'm wondering what is wrong with me lol. If you're new, do check out the other HQ and JJK A/B/O works too in my masterlist. .

Osamu sighed for the millionth time, running a hand through his gray mane. His dark brown-black roots were beginning to grow longer each day lately he has not cared to touch up the artificial color.

His mind has been preoccupied with Y/l/n Y/f/n.

Every second, minute, and hour of the day.

He has been making minor mistakes throughout the day, making his employees concerned.

His second in command had to kick him out, telling him to take a couple of days off.

“I can sort of detect your pheromones. Are going into a rut soon?” Hanzo asked, he is an alpha too.

Osamu groaned, losing track of his cycle. “Yeah, I’m due for it.” He stood up, “I should hurry and get out of here before I make the rest of you guys uncomfortable. Please take care of the restaurant for me, Hanzo.”

Hanzo saluted and watched his boss slip out the back door.

.

Osamu groaned as he ejaculated all over his hand for the second time. He barely made it through his apartment doors when he pulled his straining cock out to find relief.

His breath is uneven and he stumbled straight into the bathroom to wash his hands before searching for his medications. It felt different, stronger, and uncontrollable this time around.

His eyes widened when the cartridge was empty.

He couldn’t go out, shouldn’t go out when he couldn’t control his pheromone at the moment.

Osamu let out a deep breath, “I’ll be okay without them, I did fine last time.” The tiny voice in his head whispered, yeah, before you met Y/n.

His body was heating up, he fumbled to strip his black shirt off, tossing it on the ground as he stumbled into his bedroom. Immediately searched for the few clothing items she had left over at his place. The lightbulb in his head lit up when he remembered she tossed her worn dirty clothes in his hamper a few days ago. “Ah,” he sighed in relief and brought her panties to his nose, inhaling deeply.

His fist wrapped around his cock again and began pumping fast.

He needed Y/n.

Only her.

His cum shot out, dripping off his hand and onto the floor.

“’Samu?” He lifted his head, her panties still smothered against his nose. Was he hallucinating by seeing Y/n stand in the doorway?

He’s finally gone mad.

Osamu lifted one hand out towards her, his eyes hooded as he tried to focus them on her. “Y/n….” He sensed her hesitating and stumbled to stand back on his feet. His cock was still hard even after cumming three times, it bounced against his happy trail of hair. It was now thicker and longer than before. He was excited to see his Y/n. “Y/n… please… I need you.” His feet stumble as if he was drunk.

“Osamu,” she murmured, “you – you’re in your rut cycle…” her breathing became rugged as his pheromone began affecting her.

“I need – I need you…” he begged, “you’re the only one… I only want you… you my omega.”

Y/n flinched, choking on her breath as her body began to heat up. She gripped a hand over her heart, trying to control her breathing. “N – no…” Her knees trembled as she tried to press her thighs tightly together. The ache between her legs intensifies by the second. “’Samu…” she looked up and Osamu’s brown eyes were now golden-yellow, an obvious sign an alpha is in a full-blown rut.

“Y/n, my love,” he smiled, his voice full of sweetness, “my omega, right?” He cupped her cheek, his eyes shutting at skin-to-skin contact. He opened his eyes, “my omega, right, Y/n?”

She gripped his wrist, feeling his pheromone seeping through her skin. “Ye – yes… yours…”

“My what?”

Her other hand reached out to wrap around his cock, “your omega. I am your omega, alpha.”

His arm is around her tiny waist, tugging her against his chiseled body. Osamu’s mouth is on hers, tongue slipping past her lips to dance with hers. Her sweet moans ring like a melody and he wants to hear it for the rest of his life.

Osamu hoists Y/n up, carrying her to his bed. He set her back on her feet and began undressing her. His fingers working at a speed she couldn’t even keep track of which piece was coming off.

“’Samu,” she called his name softly, “I’m not going anywhere…” She placed a palm over his beating heart, feeling it thump. She released her pheromone and immediately felt him relax.

“More,” his voice is low and rough, he inhaled deeply.

Her pheromone mixed with his, creating a new euphoric ambiance.

“Ah!” Y/n gripped Osamu’s shoulders, being lifted off her feet again as he carried her to the middle of his bed. He gently placed her down on her back before pulling the remaining of his pants and boxer off.

Each time Osamu breathed, his cock twitched.

Y/n lift herself upward and reached for his cock, wrapping both hands around it and stroking it. “It’s bigger… than usual.” She glanced up at him with doe-like eyes, “will… it fit?”

The first time she took Osamu’s cock, she was nearly expanded beyond her imagination. It took a few times before her pussy finally molded to fit his cock.

The hint of pride was evident on Osamu’s smile, “it will fit, you were meant for me. You were meant to take my cock and you will take my knot too.”

“I’ve never been knotted before,” her statement was innocent but it was fuel to rile up Osamu. He was even more eager than ever to knot her at that moment.

His fingers brushed her hair out of the way before tilting her chin, “I will knot you as many times over until you become pregnant.” Something flickered in her eyes and Osamu pressed her onto her back, anchoring her petite small omega body beneath his large alpha body. “You are mine, Y/n, my omega… mine to fuck, to love, and to breed over and over… right?”

She bit down on her lower lip.

“Submit to me, Y/n,” he growled with a quiet but soft tone. “Say you’re mine to fuck, love, and breed.” His hand reached between her legs, and three of his thick fingers breached and penetrated her. Her tight walls hugged his fingers and he released more of his pheromone, instantly feeling her relax. They began thrusting in and out of her pussy, soaking his fingers to his knuckles before he slipped a fourth finger, making sure to stretch her wide for his rutted cock.

“Yes,” she murmured, her eyes shut as she fully submitted.

Osamu smiled widely, pecking her lips, “open your eyes and say it, tell me what I want to hear. Tell your alpha what he wants to hear…”

Her pussy clenched around his fingers hearing him speak in such a way. Her eyes opened and she gazed directly into his, her hand cupping his face. “I’m yours… yours to fuck… to love…”

“And breed?” He questioned, the tip of his nose trailing along her neck as he inhaled her scent emitted more sweetness than usual now that she had fully submitted to him. “I will breed you tonight, Y/n, take my word for it. You will never leave my home now without my scent on you, everyone will know you are mine.” His teeth bared, hovering over the sweat glands. “I will mark you mine for eternity. I will make you pregnant by the end of the night.” Her pussy fluttered around his fingers, and he pulled them out, coating her essence on his cock. “Answer me, Y/n.”

“Yes, breed me. Mark me… I’m yours. All yours.” She lifted her hip, “fuck me, ‘Samu… I need you…”

Osamu grabbed his aching cock and pressed it to her pulsing entrance before thrusting fully deep inside her. His head is thrown back as he groans her name. “Fuck, you’re so tight… so tight for me.” His fingers gripped her waist as his hips began moving in a steady rhythm.

His eyes lazily gaze down, mesmerized at how his thick cock would appear and disappear in her sweet pussy. Because it was his rut-cock, his size was enormous than usual, allowing him to see a visible outline where his cock was nestling inside of her. This was his first time seeing her belly bulge form from his cock.

Osamu admit he had a thick and long cock, and during his rut cycle, the size increased twice as much. He enjoyed watching his past partners struggle to take him and get off from the size of his cock. His size kink increased until he met Y/n.

She was the smallest of his partners. Rather than finding joy and excitement like he normally would, Osamu was nervous that Y/n wouldn’t be able to take his size. She struggled to take his cock the first time even when he took it slow and tried to be as gentle as possible. Though she was in pain, she still encouraged him to continue. Osamu had never felt the unfamiliar spark in his heart for someone until her.

She was the first person he held afterward, refusing to let her leave. When he woke up, she was gone with no trace at all. He did not know where to even start to search for her. They had encountered each other at one of those weekend events that alphas and omegas attended to search for their next cycle partner.  

Osamu couldn’t take his eyes off her when she entered the room with two other girls. Her hair was in a high bun and she wore a simple dress that came down to her knees. They finally made eye contact from across the room and she winked at him before looking away.

That was Osamu’s cue to make the move.

He attended the next event, in hopes of running into her again but he was let down by the end of the night.

Weeks later he succumbed to a deep despair. His employees tipped toed around him, feeling like he was a ticking time bomb. No one knew what to do or how to help their boss.

Until their blessing entered the shop…

The onigiri slipped from Osamu’s hand and everyone stared at him confused and before anyone could ask him what was wrong, he was out of the kitchen. They all scurried after him and peeked through the curtains to see what startled him.

Standing before their boss was a pretty omega, staring at him with the same shocked expression. Her expression softened and she smiled, “hey, you.”

Osamu truly believed Y/n was his fated partner. She had been looking for him as well.

“I regretted leaving, I’ve never experienced such emotions and left my heart with you that night.” She cupped his face later that day, bringing him in for a deep kiss. “I don’t want to be without you again.”

They got to get to know one another, the proper way. Osamu took her out on dates and after the fourth one, he officially asked her out.

He was dying by the second as she teased him, contemplating on his offer before saying yes.

“Only if you make me cum,” she teased against his lips.

And he did, thrice.

“’Samu,” Y/n mewed, grabbing his wrists. Osamu is a master of her body, inside and out. He knew when she was ready to cum. “’Samu… please.”

“You ready to cum, baby?” he cooed, fastening his pace. He spread her legs wider, pushing her knees into the mattress. He shifted over her, slamming his cock deep and hard, his room echoing with skin on skin. He had control over her body, he has trained her to only cum on his command. Her walls began to tighten around his cock and her moans amplifies. “Okay, you can cum… cum for me…”

As soon as her pussy wall tightens and trembles around his cock, his cock explodes, shooting his thick load of seed into her womb.

He withdraws gently, watching his seed gush out like a waterfall instantly. Osamu quickly flipped her over, shifting her lower body upward. His cock is impaling her once again.

“’Samu – oh! Wait…” Y/n reached a hand behind to push against his abdomen but it was futile. He gripped her hips tightly, pounding into her from behind at a faster speed than seconds ago.

He leaned forward, his large frame easily towering over her. He licked her shoulder blade up to the sweet gland that was now emitting a heady aroma, one that was causing his mouth to water.

Osamu’s hands found her small ones and he threaded his fingers through hers, “need to mark you…”

Though he just came, he was ready for a second round. He spread her thighs wider, angling her so that he could reach her cervix. He groaned when the tip of his cock pushed against the secret opening of her cervix. “Need to knot… need to knot my omega…”

The cervix opening had the ability to stimulate the tip of an alpha’s cock. The tip becomes redder, and thicker to be able to lock the potent seed in the womb to ensure breeding was successful.

To prove, Osamu winced when the tip of his cock enlarges, he felt every ridge of Y/n’s pussy walls.

Y/n felt it herself, she whimpered into his pillow, her thighs widening and hips lifted to find comfort in the bulbous tip enlarging inside of her. She can feel it poking her cervix entrance, simulating and forcing entry.

As soon as the tip broke the barrier and her cervix opened allowing entrance, his knot inflated and filled her womb. Osamu took the opportunity to sink his teeth into her skin, over the sweet gland, breaking the skin so his essence could now mix with hers.

This will tie her forever to him.

It is natural her body will fight against him, he quickly shifted them onto their side, lifting her leg over his to keep pressure off the knot. His cock was still ejaculating, filling her womb beyond its limit. Glancing over, he can see her lower belly bulging almost as if she was already pregnant.

“Shh, it's okay,” he cooed, he licked her mark to cool the broken skin. He released his pheromone to calm her down.

Once mated, an alpha’s pheromone can provide more than before. It is the only medicine that will help their omega.

Her whimpers quieted down but she hugged his arm tightly. “It hurts…” she murmured, “too much…”

“I know, baby. I know. I’m sorry. You will get used to it. Only you can handle my knot. Only you…” He kissed her temple. They lay there in silence, just enjoying the quietness of each other’s breathing. “I love you.” He had yet to speak those words to her, but he felt this was a perfect time to tell her. “I think I have loved you from the first time I met you.”

Y/n kissed his bicep, “I love you too, Miya Osamu.” The romantic moment was ruined when his hand began to fondle her breast. She playfully slapped his hand but it remained, he squeezed them, sending a jolt down to her pussy. “Stop…”

Osamu groaned, feeling her squeezing around his sensitive cock. “I didn’t get to give them attention today,” he reached to cup the other side, flickering her perky nipple.

“Leave my small tits alone,” she demanded, yet moaning and squirming under his touch.

His knot had slightly deflated but she was still extremely uncomfortable from being plugged up with his cum.

“I love your small tits,” he kissed her neck, making sure to lick her mark. “It’s my third favorite thing about you.”

“Third?”

“Yep, first is your face, second is your pussy and third are your small tits.”

Y/n burst out laughing. “Well, I hear they do get bigger… once I become pregnant.”

One of Osamu’s hand slides down her front and rest against her bulging belly. “Yes, I promised I’ll breed you until you’re pregnant.” He tugged her closer, spooning her small frame. “They will get bigger with milk for you to feed me.”

“You?” she laughed.

“Well, one side, the baby will have to share one side with me.”

Weeks later, she found out she was expecting twins.

“Fine, I guess I’ll just have to eat your pussy while you breastfeed them.”

. . .

>>> @queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

E/n: he sooooo nasty I love it.

[sotwk]

Fanfic writer interview

Thank you @emmanuellececchi for the tag!! 💖 I've been tagged on this game a couple of times in the past, but I never answered them because looking at my Ao3 Stats just made me feel sad.

Stats are a little better now, and I have thicker skin about it, so here we go! :)

How many works do you have on AO3? 23

What's your total AO3 word count? 72,658

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes:

Taken (Eomer x OC) *most popular by a large margin!

Greenleaf's Day Out (Child Legolas and family)

The Task of Living (Thorin x Reader)

Breathe (Boromir x Reader)

Dandelions (Boromir x Reader)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Umm. I am shamefully REALLY bad at responding to comments. More often than not, I just don't get around to it! I know that's a terrible thing to do as a writer, because commenters deserve so much appreciation! It is definitely one of my resolutions in the coming New Year to improve on this flaw.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending? The Broken Shield - It's a Thorin fic set during the War of the Dwarves and Orcs, and shows the death of both Elvenqueen Maereth and Frerin, brother of Thorin.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending? I like to think most of the fics I write have happy endings, but I've received feedback about Dandelions being particularly "feel good".

Do you write crossovers? Crossovers are not my thing, BUT I did receive a fic request for one from a friend, so I'm going to deliver it just because they asked.

Have you ever received hate on a fic? Never, thankfully. I don't think my reach is wide enough to attract the notice of haters.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Nope, I leave smut to the experts. M-level spice is the most I can manage.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope, and I can't imagine anyone would want to.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? @scyllas-revenge and I sorta accidentally co-wrote a sort-of fic. LOL. Maybe we'll formalize the partnership eventually. @heilith and I have been discussing a (her)Lindir x (my)OC collaboration for ages now, but we're both so busy offline! I would love to co-write fics, but only with friends I'm confident can tolerate my slowness and focus issues.

What's your all-time favorite ship? I enjoy MANY ships across different fandoms, but none really stand out. On a personal level, I really love my Thranduil x Maereth ship. It means so much to me that I will forever be insecure about sharing it with others, for fear of rejection or criticism.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will? I want to finish ALL my WIPs and I don't think about ditching any of them. Hope springs eternal!

What are your writing strengths? If you ask me? Worldbuilding and integrating my AU into canon. If you ask others? I've been told I can deliver a decent gut-wrenching piece of prose or dialogue here and there.

What are your writing weaknesses? I am the SLOWEST WRITER YOU WILL EVER MEET. Tons of WIPs. Updates on long fics are a miracle. I honestly question whether I'm cut out for multi-chapter fics, but I keep trying anyway.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? I only do it sparingly, usually using short phrases here and there.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to? I am chomping at the bit to write for ASOIAF/Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon! I have fic requests waiting for HotD; I just need to get my butt moving on them.

What's your favorite fic you've written? I have yet to write a fic that stands out above the others; I love my fics equally for different reasons.

Bonus: Live shots of me trying to write:

Tagging: @hobbitwrangler @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras @heilith @lathalea @missiemoosie

@emyn-arnens @celeluwhenfics @dilettantefeminist @cycas @scyllas-revenge

@cuarthol @entishramblings @lucifers-legions @torchwood-99 @softboiledwonderland

....and anyone who wants to share! I'm not sure which of my writer Moots are on Ao3 or just on Tumblr. :)

[oldiesstationlover11607]

🎶I want to saaaayyyy…hello🎶 (How I haven’t used that one yet is incredible).

The day I run out of various hello lyrics and jokes will truly be a sad day in Tumblr history. Anyways, hello! It’s me. 💛. OMG I absolutely loved what you wrote for my last request. Tyler is just something else this tour man. Idk what he is eating, but he is just no filter and I live for it. Honestly, that oneshot might be one of my favorites from you (and that’s saying something because all your works are bangers).

So, you said you were willing to write Spooky Jim so I am going to torture you with my ideas because I feel like Josh’s Blurryface persona isn’t explored enough and I just think he looks good in red eyeshadow 🤷🏼‍♀️. I was wondering if you could maybe do an angsty oneshot where the reader is exposed briefly to Spooky Jim, but Josh quickly takes back control. However, Josh is horrified by that side of him showing so he sort of shuts the reader out. Eventually, the reader manages to convince him that she isn’t going anywhere.

I’ll be honest, I’m very excited to see how you do Spooky Jim, even if it is only briefly. ☺️

Spooky Jim - Spooky!Josh x Reader

Relationship: Spooky Jim/Josh × Reader

Warnings: Swearing, choking, violence, crying - lots of angst

Word Count: 791 - thought this would be perfect for a short blurb type piece so whipped this up in he back of my class lol

A/N: Hope this is okay! Sorry it took so long!

PART 2

The banging had been ongoing for hours, each hit and crash seeping through the walls that I thought were thicker than this. My head was throbbing and my brain felt like it was swelling within my skull. Josh and I had moved in together a few months ago and we’d been planning to build a soundproof studio so he could work on his music without it ringing throughout the house. But with tour coming up, he had to practice–there was no changing that. I always tried my hardest to be patient with the drumming and I definitely didn’t mind it behind Tyler’s voice and accompanied by a backing track but by itself it just felt like noise–constant noise that never ever stopped. I wasn’t against his music or him practicing–that wasn’t the case at all–but when it’s 10:30 pm and I’m trying to get a paper done, that’s a different story. I could feel every crash vibrate through the floor and into my body as I tried to focus and finish my research before the deadline. Closing my laptop and climbing out of our bed, I marched down to the basement as each step fell in time with the beats. The closer I got to the banging, the more I realized there was a backing track playing, a weak and gentle hum hidden beneath the drums. I leant against the staircase, waiting for him to finish the track which I’d recognised as ‘Heavydirtysoul.’ Something was off though, each hit of the kit seemed to get louder and harder as the song progressed, causing my ears to hurt. The banging continued, Tyler’s voice just peaking through the drums. Bang! Crash! Bang! Each hit caused a painful pinch in each of my ears until a loud snap rang through the room. Both red painted drumsticks in his hands snapped plainly in half, small splinters of wood flying across the kit. I gently placed my palm on Josh’s back, the gray shirt he was wearing slightly damp with sweat. He flinched violently, turning around and grabbing my wrist tightly. His fingers burned into my skin, the tips likely to cause a line of bruises. 

“What?” he spat, eyes completely bloodshot. 

“I was… uh… drums… headache?” I asked, completely in shock at the pain in my wrist. Josh stared at me blankly as if he was turning over thoughts in his head. 

“You want me to stop?” he smirked, standing up and throwing what was left of his drum sticks to the floor. I nodded slowly, desperately trying to figure out what was wrong. Very slowly he started to walk us up against the wall, my head slamming, causing a sharp wince to escape my mouth. “Do you think I have the time to care about your silly little headache Y/N? Do you think I’m not busy and need to practice Y/N?” he shouted. I could feel my heart thumping desperately in my chest, head rushing through possible ways to get out of his grip. He brought his other hand up to my throat, running his fingers across the rings of my trachea causing my eyes to widen in fear. He’d never tried to hurt me in the past. Josh was one of those people who would never hurt a fly, even when he was stressed out. My breath was shaky as tears poured from my eyes and I tried to pick my next words carefully. 

“Josh?” Almost immediately his expression changed from an intense stare into pure fear. 

“You need to leave,” he said, taking four large steps away from me. Something had changed when he heard his name, something important. 

“What?” I questioned, my voice raw. I could see two things out of the mirror in the back corner of the room. One: My neck had a large red mark in the shape of Josh’s right hand. Two: Josh’s hands were both shaking behind his back. 

“I said get the fuck out Y/N! Leave! Get out!” he screamed. With a heaving breath I ran up the stairs and out the front door, not a single thought in my head. There was nothing to think about, either I stayed down there with him and he could hurt me again or I could leave and be safe–and I wasn’t going to pick the first option. I ran and ran and ran until I found myself on the side of a busy road halfway to Tyler’s house. Car after car passed me as I stumbled in the direction of where I could remember his house being–that was the only place I could go. It was completely dark outside and the only lights were the occasional car and street lamp that I passed. As I reached into my back pocket for my phone I felt nothing–it was empty. Shit. Tyler’s house wasn’t too far from where I was and in a split second decision I decided to sprint there. I wasn’t going to be stuck out on the side of the road alone at 11:00pm. I ran and ran and ran until I found myself on Tyler’s front porch. The lights were on which I’d found odd given Jenna was on a trip with the girls and Tyler usually had the lights off when he was home alone. The night air was crisp, the cold air swallowing me whole as it circulated through my lungs. I stepped up to the door raising my fist to knock before the door opened, Tyler standing on the other side completely dressed and fully in black. 

“Hey,” he smiled, holding the door open for me. He clearly noticed the look of shock on my face as he reached for my hand and helped me inside. Every soft light in the house was turned on, the ambience calming and welcoming. 

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t be here. I’ll go.” He tightened his grip on my hand slightly telling me to stay where I was. 

“He said you’d probably end up here,” he sighed, leading us to the upstairs studio with the large windows–I loved that room. 

“Wait, you talked to him?” I paused in the door frame, Tyler walking into the studio and turning on the neon lights. He nodded, sitting down right in front of the wall of windows. 

“Of course I did. He called me the second you left the house,” he explained. I slowly made my way across the room till I was sitting next to him, my knees pressed flat against my chest. 

“So he told you what he did?” I sighed, looking out across the property. 

“He told me what happened, yes. But it wasn’t him, I’m telling you that wasn’t him,” he looked down at me. 

“I’m pretty sure the man with his hand around my throat was Josh, Tyler,” I snapped. In a complete state of shock I surrendered, Tyler pulling me in as I wept messily into his shirt. My chest was heavy as tears fell and I took quick breaths. 

“Y/N… it’s more complicated than that,” he rubbed my back.

“He… he… Josh…I–” I sobbed, each word muffled into his chest.

“You need to rest. We’ll talk about this in the morning,” he declared, moving to get up but I shifted my weight so I stayed on the floor. 

“Tyler, I can’t–we–please,” I sighed and he nodded, sitting back down.

“Do you want me to tell you what really happened or do you want to wait for Josh?” He checked his phone as if anyone would be trying to reach him at this hour. 

“I’m not going near him again so just tell me,” I huffed, wiping the tears from my face. He nodded before starting.

“You know Blurryface and how I have control over him most of the time?” I stared blankly at him trying to figure out where he was going with this. “Josh has a blurryface too except he’s called Spooky Jim. From what it sounds like, you met him tonight.” This couldn’t be true. If this was true then he would’ve told me, we’ve been together for a year, he would’ve told me. 

“No,” I scoffed, “that’s not fair… he–he wouldn’t–no.”

“I told him to tell you sooner but clearly he didn’t,” he sighed. If it was true then I couldn’t blame Josh for any of it. I loved him more than anything and I was going to stay with him–be there for him–because he needed me. 

“You’re sure?” I ran a hand through my hair, my palms sticky with sweat. “Yep,” he nodded. I needed to call him. I needed to see him. Anything to tell him we were okay. Tyler noticed me looking around the room and pulled out his phone. “He’s not gonna want to talk to you for a while Y/N. I’m sure Jenna’s told you about the first time Blurryface came out that I ghosted her for three weeks. He’s going to need time,” he started. 

“At least let me send him a text. My phone is back at the house,” I begged. He nodded, passing me the phone. 

“Keep it short. I can stop by the house tomorrow to pick up anything you need,” he spoke, getting up and leaving the room. I pressed Josh’s contact photo, one that Tyler had taken from their most recent tour. The most recent messages about an upcoming photoshoot. I started to type up my message. 

‘Hey. It’s Y/N’ (deleted)

‘I’m at Tyler’s’ (deleted)

‘I miss you’ (deleted)

‘Josh?’ (deleted)

‘I’m safe. I love you and I’m always here for you. Call me when you’re okay. I love you - Y/N’ (sent)

//

Requests open!

[emmitaaa4]

I want to preface this little rant by saying that I am all for ship and let ship—at the end of the day none of this has any significance, and we should all get to enjoy our silly little ships to our heart’s content. Me personally I just want Elain to do whatever the hell she wants and be happy in the end. That being said, rn I just felt like getting something off my chest.

From what I have seen and understood, most of The Other Side believes that Azriel feels entitled to Elain. That he sees her as a sexual object, or at the very most as a rebound he doesn’t truly care for, nor respect; he does not think of her beyond what he can get from her sexually. They say his attitude towards her is toxic in its ‘possessiveness’; he doesn’t consider her an equal, for he sees her as a perpetual damsel in distress he must save; his attraction to her / feelings for her are a symptom of some twisted trauma response.

We know that they believe that. We’ve heard it. Over and over and over. Since 2021. Hell, everybody’s momma probably knows it, too, with the way that rhetoric is spread. But Elriels have made it plenty clear that we have a very different interpretation of the text and do NOT agree with those assessments of Azriel (nor half the things the poor man is diagnosed with, bless his fictional soul), considering what we do know of Azriel’s character and his relationship with Elain, based on the books--and yes, the bonus (see this, this, and this post). Otherwise—i.e. if we believed him an incel x fuckboy hybrid (probs the first of his kind!) who is only interested in getting her in is bed—we would obviously not be shipping them together: most of us (99% I’d say lol) care about Elain more than we do Az, or care about them both just as much.

So it is getting pretty tiring to see us shippers—the actual humans behind the screen—labelled as having a toxic/immature view of what love is, of being “too young/naive” to see the supposed red flags, of mistaking lust for love because we have not experienced a healthy relationship (?), of actually promoting toxic relationships & advocating for toxic masculinity (which someone told me on tiktok just now)(stay away from tiktok, folks). Those generalizations are wild to me, not only because they are wildly untrue and condescending, but because Elriels are a colorful bunch, you know—when you’re speaking of the fandom Villain™, you’re speaking of people of every demographic, speaking of daughters mothers grandmothers, depressed uni students (pardon the self-insert), etc... I need to get thicker skin, but those statements can get pretty hurtful in the long run. And I’m tired of feeling the need to justify myself as if we’re wrong for shipping two people who MUTUALLY want one another and lets be serious, no its not “just lust”.

I know I know, I am probably being dramatic. But it’s just weird to see a ship being so demonized and its shippers along with it, all because louder portions of the fandom disagree with our opinions and insist on toxifying ours. Just to be clear, I know that many have had unpleasant experiences/interactions with Elriels, just like many Elriels have had the same with Gwynriels and/or Eluciens. I condone none of the disgusting behaviour I’ve seen from some shippers, and in fact I abhor it. As everyone should.

To end this on a good note.

Elriels, I say we run with it. Az wants Elain for himself. He is jealous and his mind is plagued by thoughts of her. Her presence is too much to bear, for he can’t stand to be in the same room as her and pretend like he feels nothing. He is ready to beg on his knees for a chance to worship her, and it took Nesta one look to see it.

AZ IS OBSESSED AND I SAY WE EMBRACE IT.

[spotaus]

Okay, this was long overdue tbh 😔🙏(N Lore (?) Under the cut!)

I've been meaning to make N a new ref for a bit, so here we are! Since she's my skele-sona I kinda want to do a quick rundown on her design elements for fun, then her in-universe lore!

(Note: I refer to her a lot with she/her, she is technically a she/they/he/it genderfluid kinda girly, but I made her before gender tomfoolery registered in my brain so I default to 'she/her' out of habit-)

Design:

Her Halo/Crescent/Horns were initially inspired by wanting her to have metaphorical horns instead of slapping points onto her skull. She's also a shape-shifter, so her human form uses the crescent like a hair clip! Also based on the moon a bit.

The wings/tail are things I ended up w/ in the long run. The wings used to be optional + usually based on specific birds, and the tail was thicker w/ an end piece that looked like a fountain pen tip, but the long windy one abd the black wings were more fun to draw/animate!

Virgin Killer sweater used to be a Grey sleeveless turtleneck, but I just like the aesthetics here better.

Arm Gloves/Leg Socks are half because I hate drawing arm bones, abd half because I thought it brought more dynamic shapes into the design! Also... kibty... (inspired by gloves/socks I own)

Pants: She's always worn snow-pants in her design, and they used to have hanging suspenders, but I removed them. Why they're amarica colored I couldn't tell you... I just like the color combo 😔

Cracks on her face: The forehead crack is inspired by when I tripped and smacked my forehead onto a stair corner as a kid (blacked out, don't remember the hospital trip that followed?). Chin crack inspo is a random scar I have on my chin!

Color on Bones: I actually just added this, but my skin gets blotchy when I'm nervous or embarrassed, and I like the visual that N's magic does that to her Often lol. So! It's like blush! (It's also on her collarbone but you can't normally see it, haha-)

Blue + Purple: I actually don't have symbolism here. Just that I had another oc (B) who was my *other* skelesona insert oc, and *her* colors were blue and purple. N used to have white eyelights I think? Silver? But N and B traded off some traits in a point where I tried to combine them, and the result was this current version of N! Actually...

Old Art jumpscare...

So, I stole the pattern from her jacket and put it kn her pants, stole the crack in B's forehead and gave it to N, her Halo kept tilting further left, and I revoked shoe privileges?? Idk man, it's been a wild ride.

Oh! Her hands *do* still have holes in them too.

Lore:

N is less like Me and more like a bossy little minion I custom-made to go harass my ocs. She exists anywhere, anytime, and is only restricted my universal laws if it makes a situation more interesting. Very much a mary-sue. Meant to play almost a 'narrator' role!

She has beef specifically with Ichor (because I put hin thru so so much in the early days-) and is very chill with Phishbone and Pretender. She loves to chill in different aus with different people, but she adores just being obnoxious to my ocs specifically. Objectively, *not* a good person 🙏

And yeah. She looks different in has new clothes everytimr I draw her, but this is a good basic design base!

[catscidr]

natural remedy

cw: written in the third person, childe being slightly obsessive and weird, fluff and comfort to an extent. allusions to previous self-harm but nothing graphic, nonsexual intimacy  includes: gn!reader, childe  wc: 2,7k a/n: i wrote this a couple of months ago when i was sick and delirious and was just craving a strong russian bf (childe) to take care of me(༎ຶ⌑༎ຶ) ssoooo if this reads weird it's because i couldn't rly process my own thoughts when i wrote it out LOL. i fixed it up as best as i could but i dont wanna spend my time rewriting 5 whole pages...... posting this and then going through my inbox and Not answering asks in third person

Equipped with a backpack full of various sized logs, some berries he had managed to scavenge and a dead hare that he held by the scruff of its neck, the young man tossed his blade away, the weapon dissipating in the air as mist. Though the wind nipped at the small bits of skin he left exposed through his winter garbs, it was still enough to leave him shivering- even if he was used to the harsh winters of his homeland. The redhead had the misfortune to get caught in a scuffle with a wandering man and, though he usually reveled in any opportunity to get his hands bloody, this time he couldn’t allow himself to enjoy the bloodshed.  

With his breath creating small clouds of air in front of his face and droplets of blood drying on his coat, Tartaglia had only one thing on his mind; to get back to the cabin as soon as he could. The sun was setting at a rapid pace- he looked up at the beautiful, hazy orange and pink sky and scoffed. He was still about half a mile away from the secluded cabin. He couldn’t spare any more time away from it and, with a determined scowl, picked up the pace of his strides. 

Murmuring under his breath, the young man keeps on trudging through the thick snow as light began to grow sparser. All he could see was snow, dead trees and old, dried blood on top of the crystal white sheet covering the ground. Tartaglia readjusts the backpack on his back, making the straps around his torso tighter and continues his journey with an empty, quiet mind. Usually, he would walk the other way and seek out some more poor souls to fight in the tundra forest and even hunt for some more animals to bring back to his abode like a trophy, but the knowledge that his beloved was alone, ill and hungry wouldn’t let him rest and enjoy the joys of his crazed mind for even a moment. 

He leaves a trail of prickles of blood behind him as he walks sluggishly through the snow. It would soon be covered by even more snow, as the snowstorm went on. Clutching onto the dead hare tightly, Tartaglia holds back the urge to mutilate the animal out of anger. Or was it frustration, or even maybe desperation? Bitterness?  

No, nothing of the sort. All Tartaglia felt was a mix of disheartenment, defeat, and in some way even failure. It had been three days and his beloved’s physical state wasn’t getting any better- what was there left to do? He tried all of his mother’s home remedies that he remembered and yet they would stay bedridden, struggling to even lift their spoon up to their face to drink the warm, soothing broth. He felt powerless, like all there was left to do was to watch them wither away. It felt like the forest was closing in on him, the trees seeming taller and thicker the more he made his way through the storm. He shuddered, a shaky sigh leaving his chapped lips.  

With a trembling hand he lifted his red scarf high enough to cover his nose, and tried to focus on getting home. 

✧✧✧ 

“I’m back!” he shouts as soon as he opens the door of the cabin, doorknob hitting the wall roughly from the harsh winds whipping into the abode. Using his foot, he swiftly closes it and takes off his thick hat, soft snow falling on the wooden floorboards of the entrance. After a few moments of tinkering with the straps of the backpack, it drops to the floor with a thud and Tartaglia takes off his large boots, tossing them aside. He heads into the small kitchen area, placing the- now practically frozen- dead hare on the counter and then heads into the doorway, grabbing the backpack with a huff. 

“Darling?” Tartaglia calls out, glancing at the closed door at the end of the hallway. He pauses, awaiting an answer. A million thoughts were floating in his head- was his beloved alright? Did they try to get out of bed and accidentally hit their head? They were most likely just asleep... but what if they got out and he didn’t notice because their footprints got covered by the snowfall? Were they stuck outside, cold and hungry, slowly dying as life faded from their frail body- 

“Welcome back,” he hears a quiet voice say after a few seconds, right when he was about to shout again and make a beeline for the bedroom. Sighing from relief, the ginger runs a hand through his hair and grabs a handful of logs from the backpack and tosses them near the fireplace to fuel later. 

He opens the bedroom door softly, peeking in at first before opening it fully, revealing the huddled form of his beloved in the blankets of their shared bed. 

“How are you feeling?” the ginger asks softly, crouching to their level to brush away a few strands of hair that had fallen over their forehead. They groan, shifting to uncover their mouth from the large duvet- even just a motion as small and insignificant as moving their head was strenuous. 

“Gross,” they say, voice hoarse. Tartaglia frowns but doesn’t move from his crouched position as he takes off one of his gloves, placing the back of his hand on their forehead. His brows furrow, displeasure clear on his face. 

“You’re still burning up,” the ginger murmurs back. “And you’re sweating now. Have you taken your medication?” he asks. 

He had been gone since early in the morning, having left to gather materials to sustain them for a bit longer while they both recuperated in the cabin. Although he wasn’t gone too long, Tartaglia had developed a habit of being overly protective of his beloved in the past few weeks. If they weren’t going to take care of themselves then he would do it for them- the fact that they got sick only further drove him to being as overbearing as he was now, so he wasn’t in the wrong for it. 

“I’m too tired,” they slur, whining as they bury their face in the plush blanket once more. The fabric touching them made their skin crawl but as the uncomfortable feeling passed, they sighed contentedly. 

Tartaglia clicks his tongue, displeased that they were being so uncooperative. But that wasn’t exactly unexpected- so he stands up and holds onto the corner of the blanket coddling the body in the bed below him and rips it off harshly. A startled whimper leaves their lips, and they immediately curl into themselves to preserve their (unregulated) body heat. 

“You need to shower,” the ginger says with an unreadable gaze, his cerulean eyes scanning his darling’s body like a security camera would an intruder. “You sweat through the bed sheets and your shirt is sticking to your skin. Have you even gotten out of the room since I left?” he asks with a tilt of his head, seemingly not paying attention to the way his darling shivered and squirmed. They respond with a meek shake of their head, face buried in the pillow as they quiver uncomfortably because of how cold the air is in the cabin. The man says nothing in response, instead deciding to toss the duvet to the edge of the bed as he slips his arms beneath his lover’s shivering form, picking them up off the bed. 

“It's good that you’re sweating your sickness away, but you still need to be clean.” he says tenderly, bringing them to the bathroom in a bridal carry. They tuck their face into the crook of Tartaglia’s neck, desperately trying to regulate their body heat- to no avail. The movement of the redhead walking was enough to bring his darling discomfort, making their skin tingle unpleasantly. Dazed and lightheaded, they don’t notice him shutting the door with his foot as he steps through the threshold of the bathroom. 

Tartaglia carefully sets them down on the edge of the sink’s counter, his hands lingering against their skin for a moment. 

“Strip. Your cold is gonna get worse if you stay in those sweaty clothes,” he says, bringing one hand up to stroke their hair. With a huff, they shake their head slowly, eyes cast downwards. Tartaglia frowns, sliding the hand that was in their hair down to their chin to lift their head up. The movement makes them grunt in discomfort, skin prickling unpleasantly. He sighs, heart clenching at the sight of his beloved in such a sorry state. 

“I’ll run a bath for you, it’ll be nice and warm. You’ll feel much better when you get out, so just cooperate for me, yeah?” he says softly, though his brows crease in frustration that only ignited within him because he was just so worried for them. Reluctantly, they give in and nod, earning a kiss on the cheek from Tartaglia. He smiles, soft lips lingering on their skin for a second too long before turning around, crouching to turn on the bath’s tap.  

The sound echoes in the bathroom, loud and overwhelming for the poor sick individual, shaky hands coming up to cover their ears. Tartaglia, still focused on trying to get the bath to be warm enough to be comforting but not too much that it’ll burn his lover, stays oblivious to the distress they were silently enduring.  

When finally satisfied, he swivels around to pay attention to his darling, his calloused hands coming up to take their smaller ones away from their ears. “C’mon,” he murmured. “I’ll help you out of your clothes.” 

Too weak to argue they simply nod, raising their arms as best as they could while Tartaglia grabs the hem of their shirt and lifts it up over their head. The fabric catches onto their arms, inducing in a sharp hiss from the sick individual, and Tartaglia mumbles a soft apology as he frees them from their sweaty top. The redhead notices them shivering ever so slightly; he wraps an arm around their shoulder, gently bringing them down off the counter to slip their shorts off. 

“Step out of them for me,” he says quietly. Taking a wobbly step, they do just that while holding onto Tartaglia for support. He smiles, satisfied, and carefully guides them to the bath. 

“I’m going to take off your underwear now, that alright?” Tartaglia asks for courtesy’s sake, holding their hand tenderly. They squeak out a quiet yeah and, without wanting to keep them out of the comfort of the bath, he rids them of their undergarments and helps them into the warm water as quickly as he can without putting too much strain on their body. 

Now sat in the small porcelain tub, his beloved sighs contentedly, head leaning back to relax the strain on their weak muscles, comforting warmth engulfing their tired body. Tartaglia smiles at the sight; he quietly gets up to grab a wash rag and a bar of soap to help get his darling clean. Sitting on the floor next to the bath, he gazes at his lover’s closed eyes, love pouring out of his being. A few minutes pass of this- of Tartaglia carefully observing the peaceful expression on their face- before he speaks up again. 

“Sit up, I’m going to start washing you now.” he says sternly, voice laced with concern. They shake their head stubbornly, too comfortable to move. “Baby...” he drawls, raising a brow at the attitude. “C’mon. Work with me here? Please?” he asks, lip jutting out in a pout as he watches his dear begrudgingly sit up, wincing at their muscles working overtime to do so. He smiles at that and gets the rag wet, lathering it with soap. “Thank you,” he murmurs softly, massaging their shoulders, suds beginning to form on their arm. 

The redhead brings the rag down, down until he reaches their forearm which, thankfully, was out of the water without him having to ask. He sighs quietly, carefully running the washrag over the textured skin, thumb brushing over it in soothing motions. 

“Feeling better?” he asks, peeling his eyes away from their arm back to their face. His eyes meet theirs, and he notices an almost disconnected expression on his lover’s face. But they nod slowly, exhaustion clear on their face though still lucid and aware enough of their surroundings. His smile falters slightly at their tired face, his hand coming down to hold theirs. Tartaglia rubs his thumb along their skin, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to their temple. 

“That’s good,” he murmurs. “Can you turn around for me? I need to wash your other side,” he asks gently. Without answering verbally, they do as he asks and painstakingly turn their body, water sloshing lightly in the bathtub. The sight almost reminded Tartaglia of a newborn deer wobbling over constantly, except this time his darling was the doe. Grabbing the washcloth again, he scrubs away at their skin to get them clean and comfortable again, cloth washing away the bad bacteria. He carefully scrubs their chest, not letting his hands linger for longer than they need to. 

“All done with your upper body. Could you sit on the edge of the bath, sweetheart?” Tartaglia asks just as patiently as before. 

He scrubs their lower body clean, mindful of where he touched as he finally got their body clean of sweat. 

“All clean, baby. Want to wash your hair too?” he asks gently, his hand lightly pushing any hair that had fallen over his beloved’s forehead. They lean into his touch, brows furrowing ever so slightly. 

“No,” they respond quietly. “Can I just go back to bed?” they ask meekly, voice hoarse. Tartaglia disapproves but doesn’t argue, understanding how draining it must have been to take a bath. He leaves their side to grab a plush towel, helping them up as he wraps it around their tired body. A sigh escapes their lips as their arms hold onto the towel as best as they could to preserve warmth. Tartaglia chuckles at the cute sight, patting their head fondly. 

“You can stand now, that’s good. Let’s go to the bedroom and I’ll help you get dressed, then you can sleep some more.” he says, wrapping an arm around their shoulders to help them walk should the need arise. Thankfully, they both make it to the bedroom in one piece, however Tartaglia’s beloved almost collapses on the bed, strength leaving them from walking and straining their tired muscles. Tartaglia helps them sit down, pulling the towel away as he dries them properly. 

He comes back shortly after, holding a pair of underwear and one of his tee shirts. “Lift up your arms,” he says gently, pulling the shirt over their head, a shudder wracking their body as they feel the texture of the fabric brush against their bare skin. He pays no mind to it, instead helping them put on their underwear as casually and quickly as he could. When that’s done, he tosses the towel to the side and places his hands on their arms, looking down at his lover with a tender gaze. 

Tartaglia doesn’t speak for a while, lost in his thoughts. 

“Sure you don’t want to eat something? You must be hungry,” he says, trying to subtly persuade them to eat. They shake their head, declining, and he has to hold back the urge to sigh. He was just so damn worried- why couldn’t they let him do this for them? But he shakes those thoughts away, focusing on making them comfortable. 

His beloved lays down on the bed with a quiet oof, curling in on themselves to warm themselves up. Tartaglia notices and quickly lays down in front of them, manhandling them just enough to move their position so he can hold them on the side while still able to look at them. They curl themselves against him, nuzzling themselves under his neck for warmth. He chuckles, light and airy, before pulling the sheets up over their body and tangling his legs with theirs, bringing his free hand down to caress their arm. Slowly and carefully, the redhead brings their inner wrist up to his face, kissing it softly. He hums, content, and closes his eyes. 

“Goodnight love,” he says quietly, lowering their arm to a comfortable position between them and leaning forward to kiss their forehead gently as they both drift off. 

[reclusive-manwhore]

I guarantee your ass was one of those weird kids in highschool Some of you guys needed to be bullied harder i said what I said

i was one of those weird kids in school actually. i wasn't very popular and i got shit grades/skipped a lot. i did get bullied for my size as a kid/teenager, i was pretty skinny (and still am today) and hit my growth spurt young, so i was basically a human stick figure. but at the end of the day it helped me grow thicker skin and learn to not take negative judgement as seriously. of course me being emo didn't exactly help with the "weird kid" vibes either lol. i grew up in a small town and the majority of kids were either jocks or geeks, so i was an outlier for sure and my social circle was small, which worked for me anyways because i'm introverted and don't really care for a ton of socializing.

"i said what i said 🤓☝️" makes you seem like the one who got bullied btw. that and your STAGGERING lack of self confidence but we ain't gotta take it there, i know looking in the mirror in the morning is already too much self reflecting for you to handle.

[pan-but-meh-pt2]

Hello~! I am taking the post I had from my old account and putting them here now! And what do ya know! It's spicy time! I will be starting off with dick head cannons... No one judge me lol. These will include the length, width, hair, just a general description (and maybe how good they can use it will be done later lol) NOW LET'S GET STARTED!

Warnings: Dick talk. Slightly accurate animal proportions for the beast men. Just SPICE!!!

Credits for art pieces below to rightful creator

Heartslabyul

Riddle

To start off ain't no way this boy has a big dick with all the love to him

I will say he has an average sized one, about 4 inches, 5 when hard

And it's also not that wide, but like not completely skinny either

In fact it's actually a bit thicker towards the base

I see people say this and I agree that his tip is a pretty shade of red, a little bigger than the cock but not as large as the base

Now as for hair, he is definitely well trimmed, there's just a tiny patch there that's the same red as his hair of course

Overall it's a pretty cute cock

Trey

Say it with me now. LONG AND THICK!!!

Well, ok, let's be honest, it's probably not that thick, but it's thicker than normal and you could feel it

This boy is def about e 7.5 or 8.5, no question, won't take complaints

His tip is a little bigger, but not much, and more pink then red, though it does go bright red when hard

Now the hair is well trimmed but still pretty there

Def pressing into your nose while you go down on him with your mouth

And he'd like it too lol

11/10 would look at again

Cater

Excuse me while I just slides over a card that says it's pierced

hm? I didn't say anything

But for real, I bet that boy has at least got a Prince Albert piercing right there, hitting that spot

A good 7 inches long

The width is actually pretty skinny, but that ain't a bad thing lol

Cause know what?

His tip makes up for it

Not even including the Prince Albert, his tip is pretty large, but not so large it's out at proportion

And his whole dick fades into a nice blushy pink, with the tip slightly darker cause why not!

And it is def curved up a bit so it REALLY hits

This boy has a TRAIL!!!!!!

He decorates it all nice and pretty, leaving that bit to tease his simps with (me, I am simps)

He doesn't even let it get out of control

Hot as hell and he knows it

Ace

I wanna be mean to him and day "itty bitty dick committee" but... He's slightly above average, let's admit it oops, still mean 😅

I'll be nice to him and says he's about and 5.5 in height and length smacked ALRIGHT I'LL STOP!

But yeah, like I said, slightly abovebaverage

The width is actually the thickest of the Heartslabyul boys, can stretch you pretty damn good

The tip is the same width, and a more blushy red then Riddle, but not as light as Cater's

Now his hair, uh....

It's a bit of a bush

NOT EVEN THE ATTRACTIVE WAY, LIKE A MESSY WAY

He remembers every about 2 or 3 monthsbto shave it down, and he doesn't even dobit that much

So, dick is pretty, shave down the bush and I would say a 10 outta 10

Deuce

Oh, this poor virgin boy Imao

HIS DICK IS SO PRETTY BUT SO UNUSED!!!!

Like you're saying a good 6 inches, slightly thick where it counts, and pretty beyond belief

His tip is another one that is slightly bigger than the rest, in the cutest shade of pink

His hair is also almost a clean shave, like a little trail

In total it is so FUCKING PRETTY AND I WANNA-bleeps

Ah thank you, 15/10 would recommend

Savanaclaw

Leona (animal leaning)

NOW PEOPLE KEEP SAYING HUGE DICK, AND I WANNA BELIEVE IT, BUT!!!!! BUT BUT BUT!!!!

Lion's dicks are tiny as all hell

(Don't ask why, just know I put myself through torture for entertainment)

So let's say for animal leaning he'd 3.5

HE'S HELLA THICK THO, SO HE'S GOT THAT FOR HIM!

Probably in the top 5 of thickest cocks

Gets thinner more towards the tip, but still thick

Tip is a nice pink shade, and it's only on the tip, everywhere else is the same color as his skin

Also, bumpy as hell, my lord

As little as there is it is covered in bumps and thick veins

BUSHIEST MOFO IN THE DAMN SCHOOL!!!

Like damn, take a razor to that shit, or at least trim it!!!!!

Literally Ruggie had to threaten to drag him to the bathroom and do it himself to get him to do it

(Still took to much effort to get him to do it though, my lord)

Overall, not bad, needs better maintenance though 😒

Leona (human leaning)

Just so y'all know, in future fics you will never know which type I am using, could be the more animal like or more human like lol, so good luck all you Leona simps on my page

Now, lemme just clears throat

LONG AND THICK!!!!

No matter which way, it is thick, but more human like is thick throughout, not skinner towards the tip

This man is like 8.5 inches, maybe 9, but for your sake, well say 8.5

As for the bumps they're not as bad and are now just veiny as hell

The tip is the same, along with the bush 😒

Again, big as hell, not bad to look at, LEARN TO USE A DAMN RAZOR!!!!

Ruggie

NOW THIS ONE IS THE SAME EITHER WAY!!!

Long. As. HELL!!!

Solid 7.5 hard inches on this man, no cap

SKINNY-!! Skinny, skinny, skinny! Still feels good, but don't hope for a stretch with him

In fact it could probably slide in easily!

That is.... If you can get past the tip 😈

Cause his tip is a good bit bigger than his dick!

And it has a fade to pink at the tip

Don't even get me started on the curve OOF!

I had a nice upwards curve so it really hits all the spots you want

Now for the hair...I'll admit, it's kinda bushy

NOT AS BAD AS LEONA, but probably a more tamed version of that

Also part of the trail gang (those are hella hot, convince me otherwise!)

Overall, very nice, and not bad to look at

Jack

Ok y'all, this one is hard to do animal accurate, because people are freaks and like animal dildos, but I'll try

OK, FIRST OFF, LENGTH! I'd give a solid 8 or 9!

It's actually paler then the rest of his body, with some parts a pink shade, his tip as well

Speaking of the tip, it's actually a bit smaller then the rest

Now for the width... Let's say when he's not hard it's slightly average in width, and when hard above average is the best way to describe it

It'll still feel good! So don't worry!

Now for hair I feel like he's between having almost as much as Leona or being like Ruggie and knowing how to trim it

Def more towards Ruggie, and def does it more often then those two!

But he just grows hair fast, he can't help it

A pretty good dick overall

Octavinelle

Azul

Another virgin bay with a hella cute dick!!

Now this one is more on the average side of length, slightly above, standing at 6 inches

It's actually pretty chubby/thick, specially at the center and base

A nice blushy pink throughout it Seriously, it's so pretty and cute, wtf, gimme a chance with it-COUGH COUGH, ANYWAY!

The tip is slightly darker than the rest but not by much, and is also the same size as the rest

Now for his hair-wait, I mean, what hair?

Yep, he's hairless down there! He shaves it down to the skin once it starts getting outta control ACE, LEONA, TAKE SOME DAMN NOTES!!!

He has a slight curve right and downwards, and it feels pretty good! (Specially doggy style AHEM AHEM)

Overall, 10/10, would recommend

Jade

AHEHEHEHEHE, OH BOY, THIS MAN!!!

Long, 9 inches, VEINY VEINY VEINY!!!!

Gets thicker towards the base, but still pretty damn skinny!

I don't think I said veiny, did I? Oh well, I'll do it again VEINY!!!!

He has a slight curve to the left cause reasons 😃

Now, let's talk hair

Not bad down there, like there's some, but it's not a bush

And I'mma say it hey, no, stop. I'mma say it-HE HAS A TRAIL!-knocked out

Ugh, what? Oh

So yeah, pretty damn good dick

Floyd

Well...they are twins...in every sense 😅😅😅

The hair is also worst down there

DICKS ARE NEAR IDENTICAL!!!

SAME LENGTH, SAME WIDTH, SAME TYPE OF TIP, IDENTICAL!!

Now here are the differences

Instead of the left Floyd's curves to the right (you'll have to guess why~)

For Floyd I would say he is the less clean down there version of Jade, he is way more scruffy and jacked up down there

So I'll say, if he cleans it up a bit, he's golden

Scarabia

Kalim

OH BOY, YALL BETTER BE READ FOR THE LEVEL OF SIMPING THESE TWO BRING OUT OF ME, LIKE DAMN!!!!! WHY THE WHOLE DORM GOTTA BE ATTRACTIVE!?!?!?!

Ahem, ahem anyway, onto the dicks!!!

.... Pierced, AHEM I MEAN WHAT?!?! But fr, he had a Jacobs ladder and a reverse prince albert, cause why the hell not 😅

Now, the length is more on the average side, standing at 5 inches

The width is pretty good!

Slightly above average but thicker towards the base

The tip is a vibrant red against his skin, as thick as the base, and just UGH, HE'S SO ATTRACTIVE!!!

Now the hair....meh, it's a bit of a bush, but more of a controlled bush

Overall, 10/10

Jamil

.... I am such a simp for these two 😂😂😂

ANYWAY, LET'S START OFF, HE'S 7 INCHES!!!

I feel like he'd be pretty damn veiny, with a very prominent one on the top of his dick

The width, more on the skinny side, but will still have a slight stretch for him

The tip!! His tip is more of a dark red, blending into his skin and fading halfway down

It's also the same width of the dick too

Now the hair is fairly tame down there!

...but he does have a trail and it's hot as HELL!!!!!!!

Ahem! Hey, don't hit me, I stopped-! knocked out again

Ugh, anyway, hella hot, 15/10, would recommend

Pomefiore

Vil

OK, LET'S START OFF WITH HE'S PART OF THE LONG GROUP, GODDAMN!!!

A good 8 inches, with subtle veins

His width is on the skinnier side like Jamil, but also like Jamil, will give you astretch!

Like himself, his dick is just so pretty!

Ugh, I hate this pretty boy

/jk I actually don't mind him

Ok, back on track with the tip

His tip is slightly bigger then the width, and a nice pink shade

Now for the hair, if you think he doesn't take care of his hair down there either, you'd be wrong!

Like Cater, he knows how to decorate it to be pretty for his simps, so there is a barely there trail for that reason

The area they can't see is more compact and well shaved

So, 20/10, pretty nice dick

Rook

This mofo-

Ahem I mean, onto Rook!

I'll give him the benefit of the doubt and say that he's a 6.6, just above average

His width is the same, above average

He will be a stretch tho, but in a good way

He barely uses his dick tho, he mostly prefers using his fingers and tongue-

OFF TOPIC, THAT'S FOR ANOTHER DAY, BACK ON TRACK

The tip, is muah! bigger than the width and it just feels so good!

Now the hair It's almost like Vil's, because he is such a big fan

So, he has a slight trail, but it is more prominent than Vil's

But it's also a bit of a bush

Like a clean one, ya know?

So pretty nice to look at at least!

Epel

SWEET VIRGIN BOY WITH A CUTE DICK SQUAD!!!!

Seriously, like it's a bit on the small side, like about 4-5 inches, but still nice!

A bit chubby towards the base tho, but again! Still nice!

His whole dick is a nice pink throughout, and a darker pink on the tip

And speaking of the tip, it's about as thick as the base is

Now for the hair... Oh boy

Vil would have a heart attack if he knew about it (thankfully he has enough decency to not go that far)

It's a bush, and not in a good way

Like yeah, he trims it every once in a while, but his hair grows fast!

But overall, and hella nice dick!

Ignihyde

Idia

OH BOY THIS ONE!!!

One word: messy

HE'S HELLA LONG, ABOUT 8-9 INCHES!

PRETTY THICK, LIKE ABOVE AVERAGE!

THE TIP IS GOOD TOO, A PINK FADE TO IT

BUT THE HAIR!!!

This boy is worse then Leona

Even the lion dorm leader would cringe

I'm not even sure if he could chop it off cause the hair down there is also fire! Like can he cut his hair?! How would it work?!!

But anyway, yeah 😅😅😅

So it's ok, but damn!

Ortho

ERROR, ERROR, SYSTEM NOT FOUND

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Diasomnia

Malleus

Sebek, down boy, NO SEBEK DOWN!

...Anyway, ahem, Malleus-San

LONGEST BOY HERE, MY LORD!!!

10-11 inches, no cap

The thickness of it, not so much

I will say he is above average-SEBEK, WHAT DID I SAY, DOWN BOY!!

The tip is the same width and same skin color, no pink or red to it

Hair is the next one, and DAMN

He has a bit of a bush, but like it's not out of hands

So overall...Pray for yourself 😬

Lilia

Aha, ahahaha, aha, THIS MAN!!!

He ain't small!!!! I know I made the other shorties have dicks on the smaller side, but not him!!!!

He is a solid 8-9 inches!!!!!

Why, cause I said so, that's why

He's able to change the way it looks and he uses it

Relatively thick, but in an above average way

The tip is thicker then the base and also a dark red shade

The hair is surprisingly tame down there, I will say

So overall, pretty good!

Silver

IF Y'ALL THOUGHT I WAS DOWN BAD FOR SCARABIA, Y'ALL AIN'T SEEN NOTHING YET!!!

HE'S SO HANDSOME, AND FOR WHAT?

Ahem, anyway, onto the dick

A good 7 inches, slightly veiny too

(I'll just drop this rq-somnophillia)

HIS WIDTH IS ABOVE AVERAGE, BUT A NICE STRETCH

The tip is fading into a nice blushy pink shade halfway down

His hair is well trimmed...But this one is simply cause I'm a simp for him, he has a trail!

20/10

Sebek

...I like bullying him 😅😅😅

I'LL BE NICE TO HIM FOR THIS ONE THO

So, a solid 7-8 inches on this boy

Also part of the thick squad, kinda like an hourglass style?

Skinnier at the center and thicker everywhere else

The tip is slightly larger than the base and a violent shade of red only on the tip

He has a bit of a bush, and this one is just a fact, he also has a trail

So, enjoy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope you enjoyed these head cannons! Inbox is open and you are free to ask or request any of the ones listed in my dash! Enjoy the moment! 🥰