#let's see how long this hyperfixation lets me write

[sharksandjays]

Chapters: 1/4 Fandom: LEGO Ninjago (Cartoon 2011-2022) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Lloyd Garmadon, Jay Walker (Ninjago), Kai (Ninjago), Cole (Ninjago), Zane (Ninjago), Nya (Ninjago) Additional Tags: A ninjago ATLA au, Gay Cole (Ninjago), Protective Kai (Ninjago), Bisexual Jay Walker (Ninjago), Lloyd Garmadon Needs a Hug, Lloyd Garmadon is a Little Shit, sort of plasma, but a lot more bruise, idk man i ship jay with everyone, no lloyd ships thank yew he's just a kid, I May Never Finish This, this fic is made purely out of audhd hyperfixation, i find it hard to ship zane with people so, not really anything with him, BUT there will be lots of kailor too Summary:

Lloyd Garmadon is the son of Firelord Garmadon. When he was born and, thanks to several monks and traditions, declared the Avatar, his father kicked him out of the palace. Now he roams the streets at the ripe age of eleven, avoiding his family and people in general, when he wasn't stealing from them of course. Kai and Nya Smith were abandoned by their parents when they were young, and were taken in by Master Wu at a Tea Shop. Their lives were somewhat normal, calm even, until one day, Kai learned why he had always felt so different from those around. Jay Walker, adopted son of some tinkerers, always knew he was a different firebender than his peers and classmates. Because of this, he liked to keep himself out of sight, but someday wishing he could be apart of somthing big, something that would find use for him. Zane Julien and Cole Brookestone used their talents in Waterbending and Earthbending to win money, lots of it, at the local brawls. They lived with eachother since Zane had no parents, and Cole ran away from his. They were pretty much brothers, but always wished for a larger family, since they never fit in with those around them.

A Ninjago ATLA AU :)

[ravencromwell]

Ros Vortalis trans headcanons

There are some remarkable trans Holland fics and headcanons, but can we talk about Ros Vortalis, whom all of his friends simply call Vor? Who, even when he’s _dying Holland calls Vor, to be expected, but also Vortalis which’s so much longer than Ros.

A bit of googling informs me Ros is “protector” in German, which’s chef’s kiss one hundred/ten no notes V.E. But it’s also, more frequently, a diminutive of Rosalind. Disclaimer before I start these that I respect and love! the headcanons of Makt as fairly gender nonrestrictive, with power being more of a defining factor of treatment. My Makt, however, is more complicated, with gender and gender transitions being imperfect but still a site where joy can be created, much like the rest of White London existence. Putting the rest of these beneath a cut with that in mind because as a trans person, I know some days I can’t handle transness as careful complication to be navigated and don’t want to inflict it on anyone unprepared. (Though, I promise! there’re fluffy as fuck nsfw Vor/Holland and Vor/friends headcanons in here to cut the angst.)

Ros retains a shortened form of his given namefor business purposes within the Shal—we know Shal means “market” in Red London, and I tend to think it means the same in White, such that when Holland calls him a “thug from the Shal” he’s referring to Vor being in the merchant/smuggling business. When he transitions, he’s relatively young and honestly to flagrantly demand a name change would be seen by too many as blood in the water. His greatest focus, always, is Makt rather than his personal happiness and he’d rather be burdened with the “nickname” Ros and be capable of rising in the Shal in service of becoming king.

There’re two ways of transitioning: the easiest and least painful is utilizing a spell similar to Astrid’s with Lila and stealing a face and voice. But that spell fades with death and though Vor understands that his body is likely destined for desecration once he’s gone as Makt’s people drain its blood and magic, there’s still this stubborn demand that they destroy a body without the face that made him shudder every time his child self caught a glimpse (he is so grateful for a lack of mirrors in Makt for much of his young adulthood.)

So he chooses the harder, excruciating method: finds a bone magician to permanently reshape his body. Session after session, over months traveling abroad on a ship with only the open sea and crew to hear him scream himself hoarse.

The first time they share a bed, Holland strokes along the broadened shoulders, runs fingers along the scars on his chest—eyes fixed on Vor’s all the while— and murmurs: “If they did not believe you would hold the throne, they were fools.”

“I’m flattered.” He’s bright-eyed, with that deep, rolling-sea laugh.

“After this, very little would stop you.” Fools have marveled at the extent of spells across his body, and inwardly he howls in hysterical laughter because there is very little to dull pain in Makt, and the shipboard pain was so vast it made everything else feel like pinpricks by comparison. He’s never bedded someone who would know that as intimately as the man who had done his damndest to use that same magic in stopping Vor’s fist before it connected with his face, and the admiration uncoils something deep in his chest. “Sometimes I’m certain I can’t keep it. One moment it will be there and then not.” He manages a farse of a smile “Foolish, after all these decades, but such is the weakness of your future king, Holland.”

“Lucky you would have an Antari to put it back, then.”

By the time he returned to London, voice rumbling deep from an expanded chest, people understood quickly to use “Ros” with the proper pronouns or see just how effective the runes on his hands were. But well…Ros is an easier shirt than Rosalind to slip into, but it will never sit comfortably. As he develops allies, he finds that Vor and Vortalis fit easier. And it becomes a good gauge for trust. Those who understand implicitly how painful his given name is and respect that, are people worth keeping. It becomes easier, as fewer and fewer people survive who remember Rosalind.

There are far too many moments to count when former friends or lovers try to use “Ros” as a weapon, with a little smirk that says: “You never said we _couldn’t call you that.” And he’s deeply glad he made a relatively small name fuss and provided only a small chink in his armor. (Those sorts of people tend, inevitably, to cause the use of his knives. As though letting them close and showing kindness is an invitation for open season. But such are the risks in Makt, and he is a man who craves touch and closeness. What good to craft the ideal body only to never have it appreciated. The way Holland simply…withdrew from people after Talya is something almost unfathomable. Whether they’re the closest of friends or both king and night and! king and beloved—which’s pretty much always in my head—there’s a deep, profound ache that he could never touch Holland enough to make up for too many years alone.

It’s the dimmest flicker every time he sees the “knight” and “Antari” masks slip, when Holland leans against his shoulder or puts his head in Vor’s lap, eyes half-closing at fingers in his hair. But, simply because the task is nigh on impossible, doesn’t mean he won’t do his best. Vor touches Holland Vosijk a hundred thousand times in those two years of rule—and so, so many more if they both survive—and is so very, very grateful he could take the touches the best of his lovers and allies offered over the last thirty years. (On a slashy front, can we also just talk about how, as a couple, there’s an incomparable way arousal and awe intertwine for Vor _every time Holland reaches out and shows affection: a kiss against his temple as Vor lets their foreheads rest together; a hand moving slow and easy down his back. To be trusted enough for the most guarded man he’s ever met—it took Vor _months to convince him to kill Gorst and he’s never had to work so hard or wanted so desperately for someone to say yes in his life—to touch him is such a valuable thing that he has immense responsibility not to break.)

Also in couple’s verse: If Vor has a small regret, it’s that the bone magicians are far more skilled with outward, above-the-waist presentation—because the best of them have not only done this for trans people, but for criminals etc. seeking a disguise. Thankfully, they had no trouble cutting him open to ensure he would never be with child—he doesn’t have the vocabulary for dysphoria, but the idea of his stomach rounded and heavy is one of the few things that can make him viciously soul-deep terrified. But the below the waist equipment well, it’s not a magic Makt has the luxury of learning.

By the time he meets Holland, it’s the very faintest of regrets: he has a collection of strap-ons for when he and a lover want to indulge in that particular fantasy—and is comfortable enough in his skin it’s an indulgence and not a requirement. It’s beautiful to watch lovers slide to their knees and take them in their hands or mouths or slide inside and watch them arch with pleasure. But oh, oh he wishes he could _feel it. It’s not a complaint worth voicing, and honestly after he becomes king, there’s very little time to indulge.

But one day, Holland comes back, smelling of flowers holding a box, tells the guards to wait at the end of the hall because he has crucial business from “the other London” for the king’s ears alone, which has Vor intrigued and concerned because he hasn’t come close to asking Holand to send a message. But before the concern can swell to anything beyond a flicker, he sees a flush so faint anyone would miss it who wasn’t watching. (Even before the Danes, Holland held his feelings and desires in an iron grip; Vor learned early in sharing a bed that Holland loathed the idea of being heard by those not his lovers when losing control: not merely a discomfort that could add spice to an evening, but viscerally, the way it would take everything Vor had to turn his back on an armed opponent.) This is pleasure, not business and he flicks his fingers in a silent command before they can even turn to look.

"Go get yourselves some dinner,“ he says for good measure, "If there is a foe Holland cannot protect me from, there’s little more bodies can do.”

When he opens the box…there are the usual straps but the cock. The cock feels like _skin. “The Arnesians-” and oh, there’s still so much contempt in those words “With their infinite supply of magic have learned to transmute. From earth to bone, and then something softer. There is an illusion for the Arnesians who want to forget the straps.” There were layers upon layers beneath that statement: neither of them wished, at least then, to go begging for scraps, but to _take a little of the bounty Arnes had hoarded,

“_Yes!”

Neither of them know how the illusion works: it is as mysterious as the fireworks Holland has seen that fool his eyes into certainty dragons fly across the unbearably vivid Arnesian sky. It does not matter; in those moments when Holland’s mouth is hot on skin, Vor is utterly, entirely certain Holland is swallowing down the cock he has always had.

It’s almost too much, leaves him speechless for the first time in decades, has Holland scrambling up and onto the bed even as his eyes are still glassy from watching the king come undone to wrap himself around Vor’s back until the world comes into focus again. “Is it only good once or-” he asks, finally and Holland’s smirk is wicked.

When he’s upending the Ost table and coughing up blood—, so much, too much kajt I hope Holland can take the throne because whoever these bastards are they can’t rule, the thing he clings to: more than “Stay with me"—though he _tries—, more than the raw panic in Holland _swearing—is the name. _Vortalis, he says when the table overturns—though it would be such a forgivable mistake to use Ros. Vor, he says while chanting stay and one of his blood spells. He will die as who he made himself, not as he was born.

The three threads of coherence for Holland are the blood spell. That Vor _has to stay. And that if he cannot be enough to stop this, he _will not let Vor die hearing him use the wrong name.

In verses where Vor lives, they both know the "thank you” when he wakes is not for the healing, though to be alive is a joy.

[kazuhaiku]

falling asleep on his shoulders

summary: wind breaker characters react to you falling asleep on their shoulder.

warnings: fem!reader, sakura, suo, umemiya, togame x reader (separate), fluff, inspired by multiple other fics about other anime characters reaction to you falling asleep on their shoulder :)

notes: silly little headcanon drabble :3 im hyperfixating on wind breaker someone save me + im gonna write a scara fic next trust

sakura

sakura freezes when your head hits his shoulder as you are dining in kotoha's restaurant. the toll of assignments, tests, and homework has catch up to you, which lead to you falling asleep in the middle of kotoha and sakura's talk. his face burns, unwilling to look at kotoha or even you who is fast asleep.

how is she asleep on my shoulder? what do i do? do i move? do i stay still? do i wake her up? do i-

"sakura, don't you dare wake her up." kotoha says just as sakura's hand was about to touch you.

sakura flinches. "i-i'm not-!" kotoha throws a towel at his face. "what was that for?!"

"shut up! you'll wake her up!" kotoha exclaims.

"she's a deep sleeper," sakura mumbles, looking away. "she's not going to wake up because of some stupid noise. she can sleep through anything."

"oh," kotoha pauses, then a smirk appears on her face. "eh? how do you know all that? have you spent the night at her house before? or vice versa? sakura you sly boy."

"shut up!" it's true, despite sakura yelling, you aren't waking up and kotoha can only wonder if you're actually asleep or you're pretending just to see how sakura reacts (maybe it's both but who knows?).

suo

riding the train back home has always been the usual schedule for you. however, riding the train back home with suo is a new thing. ever since you got together, suo insisted on accompanying you back home despite your house being far away from his.

you're still fifteen minutes away from your stop, so you decide to close your eyes and by the time you know it, you fell asleep.

suo doesn't flinch when he feels your head on his shoulder. he can see how sleepy you are when you sat down on the train. he smiles fondly, hearing your little snores as sleep peacefully.

suo carefully takes his jacket from the seat next to him and gently place it over you, acting as a blanket. he adjusts your head as to not strain your neck.

he doesn't wake you up until your stop, gently shaking you to wake you up. "y/n, come on it's our stop."

he ends up staying the night, unable to catch the last train since he was too busy eating dinner with you (well, that might have been his plan all along).

umemiya

umemiya loves bombarding you with little fun facts about his beloved plants. he loves it even more when he's talking with you on the rooftop of furin high school as you both cuddle on one of the (uncomfortable) seats there.

today was no different. he talks about his plants like they are his children and once he's done talking about the plants, he talks about his students who he deem as his little brothers.

"and you know what? sakura is such a cool little kid! he-" umemiya pauses when he feels your head fall on his shoulder. any other people will think you are just resting on his shoulder, however, umemiya knows the difference between resting and falling asleep when it comes to you. "oh, she's asleep."

umemiya doesn't move at all. he sits perfectly still and when he feels one of his hands going numb, he moves ever so slowly to not wake you up. he grabs his phone and texts hiragi with one hand, saying that he sadly cannot attend the meeting with the grade captains this evening. he locks his phone before he can see hiragi's response and lets himself drift off to sleep with you.

togame

you love the way togame speaks to you. his deep and slow voice always calming you down in different scenarios.

after a long date with togame, he insisted on bringing you back to the shishitoren terf, to which choji has allowed you to come in and out as you please (nobody has dared to touch you anyway, afraid that togame will quite literally beat their ass).

the rundown theatre is now your second home. although it is a bit dirty and an unsuitable environment for you to live in, you find it comfortable and quite safe (maybe because togame is beside you).

tonight, choji had something important to say to every member of shishitoren, togame had told you beforehand.

as you hear choji speak, your eyes slowly droop, but you force yourself to stay awake, just for the sake of togame.

"you can sleep." togame's voice sends shivers down your spine as he whispers in your ear. "'s okay. i know you're tired."

"really?" you yawn and making yourself comfortable on his shoulder. "thanks, jo. wake me up when the meeting's over, yeah?" you hear him hum in reply and you immediately fall asleep.

togame smiles fondly seeing your peaceful face asleep (the other members of shishitoren could only gape in awe seeing their vice captain with the softest and gentlest smile on his face for the first time).

[baronessvonglitter]

Like a Good Girl Should

mom's sleazy bf!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 2.7K

Summary: Your mom's sleazy new boyfriend Joel Miller is the last person you'd ever want to be alone with.. so how did you end up on his lap getting punished?

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, sleazy!Joel, dominant!Joel, using panties for masturbation, mention of dad in prison & brief prison r@pe joke, slut shaming reader's mom, mild violence, dubious consent (at first), spanking, thigh spanking, pussy spanking, rough fingering, threat of fisting, squirting, masturbation, ejaculation on body, no use of y/n, pet names ('daddy' and 'sir' for Joel; little girl, baby girl, darlin', sweetheart for reader), no specific age for Joel mentioned but there's still an age gap as reader is in college. (If I've forgotten any, please let me know!)

Author's Note: AKA I've got a hankerin' for some spankerin'!

I've had this fic on my mind for a week and now it's finally out. I tried to make Joel as sleazy as I could without being a total nightmare. Thanks to everyone who showed interest when it was a seedling of an idea. I'm honestly looking forward to writing whatever my next kink hyperfixation will be!

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

divider by @saradika-graphics👑

You fucking hate Joel Miller.

He's the asshole who moved in a few months ago.

With your dad in prison, your mom lamented the loss of a man around the house, until one night she brought Joel home with her after meeting him at a sleazy beer joint. And he never left.

He's offensive in every way: he doesn't pick up after himself, doesn't help out with the chores, drinks milk straight from the carton, and walks around in the morning in nothing but his briefs, proudly showing off his god damn morning wood.

Not that you've looked..

And every night it's the same hectic squeaking of your mom's bedsprings, the same quick, loud shrieks followed by moans that crescendo in pitch until it all falls silent, only to start up again fifteen minutes later.

Not that you listen.

He makes no secret about ogling you, making suggestive comments on your clothing (or lack thereof). You count the days until you have enough saved up to move out while you're still attending junior college.

When your mom's working the late shift at the diner down the road, you do some cleaning up while Joel sits on his ass watching some stupid 80s action movie. You gather your clothes and put them in the washer, one by one, making sure the right things are inside out, and that pant legs aren't twisted up.

You find your favorite pair of panties, hot pink silk, the first nice pair of panties you purchased yourself at a fancy lingerie store. Horror makes your stomach sink when you look closer at the crotch of the panties, seeing a glob of what you're one hundred percent sure is cum.

Joel.

You confront him about it and he doesn't even bother to deny it. He simply kicks back on the sofa (fully clothed for once) and tells you you should take it as a compliment.

You should take him jacking off into your favorite pair of panties.. as a compliment.

Seeing red, you tell him to fuck off, to get out, that you'll tell your mom what he's been doing, but he gets up and towers over you, backing you to the wall.

"You ain't gonna do shit, little girl."

"Try me," you dare him.

The look on his face makes you wonder if he'd rather kill you or devour you on the spot.

"Get the fuck out," you whisper, eyes blazing with fury.

"Listen, little girl, and listen good: I'm here whether you like it or not, so get used to it. As long as your mama wants a piece of this," he cups his crotch as you look away in disgust. "Then I'm stayin'. And as long as I'm stayin', it's my rules that run this place, you hear?"

"You can't tell me what to do!" You shout back indignantly.

He scoffs as you say that, irritation flaring at your defiant tone. He shakes his head, continuing to glare at you. "Oh, yes I can, darlin'. As long as you're livin' under my damn roof, I can tell you to do whatever I want you to do, whenever I damn well please."

"This isn't your fucking house!"

"I'm the only man here, ain't I?"

"Then I'm moving out!"

"No you're not! Don'tcha even think about it!"

"You gonna stop me?"

He lets out a dangerous rumble as you challenge him, his eyes narrowing, practically daring you to push him. "Try it and see what happens."

In your room you grab a duffel bag and cram some clothes and necessary items in there. Already Joel is storming into the hall, his boots loud against the wooden floor.

"You gotta be kiddin' me," he shakes his head.

"Told you I'm leaving. Don't know why you won't believe me."

"Where ya goin'? To that lil' drug dealer boyfriend of yours?" he sneers.

"So what if I am?"

"The hell you will. If you let him anywhere near you, I'm breakin' his damn legs."

His eyes go wide as you storm past him and head for the front door. His hand shoots out and grabs your arm before you can get too far. "Oh, no, ya don't," he growls, grabbing and jerking you back toward him. He grips your upper arm tightly as he spins you around to face him.

"Let me go!"

He scowls, keeping you in place in front of him. "No, I'm not lettin' you go, darlin'. Not until you quit bein' a brat and calm the hell down."

"Don't call me a brat!"

He grins at this. "Then stop actin' like one. You've been runnin' your mouth ever since I came here, and now you're makin' threats ya can't follow through on and bein' an uptight little bitch."

"Go to hell!" You spit at him, a glob of your saliva lands on his cheek and he wipes it off with his fingers, putting them them in his mouth to suck it off. You watch with mild disgust even as you're a little turned on.

"Oh, I should put you over my damn knee and tan that sassy little ass of yours until you behave yourself, darlin'."

You cross your arms. "You don't have the balls!"

A smirk crosses his face. "You can see for yourself, darlin'." He cups his crotch, drawing your eyes to him even though you don't want to.

"You really think I'm not gonna put ya over my knee and paddle that cute little ass 'til it's raw?"

"You wouldn't!"

A smirk creeps over his face at the uncertainty in your voice, his hand moves down to your hip, fingers digging in the flesh. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel your panties dampen.

"Nah, you're pussy's speakin' for ya. I can see it already, you soakin' up those lil' shorts of yours."

You're too turned on to risk speaking, struggling against him because it's the only way you can fight back, prove him wrong.

"There's no escape from daddy, darlin', You're stuck. And you're gonna be punished until ya behave yourself."

You growl, "You're not my fuckin' daddy!"

He grins at you, grabs a handful of your hair, yanking it brutally to force you to look up at him. "That's right. Your daddy's in prison, probably gettin' passed around like the little bitch he is. I'm your daddy, darlin', and don'tcha forget it. I'm the one protectin' you, takin' care of you, and now daddy's gonna put you in your place."

He jerks you towards the sofa, pulling you over his lap so your ass is squarely on his thighs, your top half pressed into the sofa cushions at an awkward angle, holding yourself up on your forearms so you can breathe, watching helplessly as he pulls down your shorts and panties in one go, leaving your ass bare to him. He drops your clothes to the floor. The way your positioned he can also see your pussy lips, swollen with excitement.

One arm on your back holds you down, the other trails its fingertips across your smooth, supple skin, giving you goosebumps, causing your cunt to clench, much to your horror.

"You've been very naughty today, darlin', haven't you?" he prefaces your punishment, giving your ass a light swat to punctuate his words.

You're too stunned to move or speak.

He runs his large, rough hand over your ass, squeezing one of your cheeks as he looks down at you, his voice low and stern: "Answer me, baby girl. You know you're supposed to answer your daddy when he asks a question." He gives your ass a sharper smack, the sound of his hand on your flesh reverberating in the room, shameful to your ears.

You give a sharp gasp. "Yes! I was being naughty!"

"That's right. You were bein' a bad girl, a sassy little brat who keeps gettin' smart with daddy." He rubs his hand over your ass, then gives it a few little swats, each one harder than the last, building up a stinging heat on your flesh.

You squirm under each spanking, seeking friction for your aching clit.

"Stay. Still," he orders in a growl.

"Daddy, it aches," you whine, not talking about the spankings. There's a wetness growing between your thighs, glistening, catching Joel's attention like a raven sighting something shiny in the grass. He growls, his touch hovering over your folds, not yet ready to give in to your needs.

"I know it aches, baby girl. But it's supposed to. It's your punishment for being a naughty little brat." He doesn't allow himself to focus on it, his hand grabbing your thigh instead. "Open your legs wider," he commands when you try to squeeze them together to get some relief.

Your scent rouses him when you open your legs just a little. He forces them apart and slaps the insides of your thighs, his dick getting harder when you cry out from sensitivity.

"Does that hurt, baby girl?" his voice is mockingly gentle as he runs his calloused fingers over your inflamed skin. When you nod instead of giving a vocal answer he slaps another palm against your already-stinging skin. "Answer me," he warns.

"Y-yes.." you reply, trying like hell to close your legs, but he keeps you down, keeps them forced apart just enough. "Fuck.." you mutter, eyes closed as more of your desire drips out of you, running down your thighs to his jean-covered lap.

He feels your excitement, the warmth you give off, feels your slick dripping out of you like sap from a tree. He knows if he slides inside you right now you'd be hot, wet, accommodating his fingers, his tongue, his cock, whatever else he wants to put in your little fuckhole. But he has control. He waits you out.

"What was that?" he snaps, giving you another spank, slightly harder than before. "Did you just curse at me, baby girl? I don't think I'm gonna go easy on you if you're gonna keep usin' that filthy mouth for that kinda language."

The dark, damp spot you created on his jeans grows, as does his enjoyment. He's hard as a rock, wishing you were placed just so so that you can feel it. He imagines you rubbing your needy unclothed cunt across the crotch of his jeans, satisfying yourself on just his clothed cock.

"Are you enjoyin' your punishment?" He mocks you once again, lightly brushing his knuckles across your puffy, drooling pussy lips, smirking when you whimper and shiver, trying to lift your hips to his touch. "Shh.. you don't get to be greedy right now, sweetheart. This is daddy's time to teach you a lesson. You're gonna be a good girl and let me teach you that lesson, aren't you?"

"Yes, daddy," you whine. Your entire body is aflame with need, brimming over with desperation. You'll do anything he wants, suck his cock, take his dick in whichever hole he pleases, so long as your frustration is released, so long as you get to come.

"That's more like it," he praises, his hand moving across your sore buttocks, softly touching before landing another stinging slap. "Good girls listen to daddy, and good girls take their punishments without complainin' and cryin'. They just take it, like a good girl should."

The need for friction, your pussy left wanting and vulnerable, brings you to tears, despite his warning not to cry, "Wanna.. be good for daddy."

"I don't know if you can be good.. don't know if it's in your nature. Got a felon for a father and a whore for a mother. I think you're just plain bad.. might need to stay on my lap for a long time." He lands a slap, watching your ass jiggle with the force of it.

"Please," you whine.

"Aw, what's wrong, darlin'? You seem like somethin's botherin' you." Two more slaps, one on each ass cheek before he grabs one at a time, squeezing hard on the flesh, relishing the heat radiating from your skin, and spanking them again. "How's your ass feel, sweetheart? All warm and tender and sore?" He soothes you with his hand.

"Yes.. yes, sir."

He chuckles lowly. "Daddy likes it when you call him 'sir'. You get points for that, baby girl. Now answer my question."

Question..question.. Every time he speaks, his actions override it, but he did ask how you were feeling, if you were sore. "Yes. But I still ache.. inside."

His cock twitches in his jeans and he adjusts himself beneath you. "Still achin' inside, huh? Need some relief? Need daddy to help you out?"

"Yes, daddy." Your fingers grip the couch cushion.

He gives your hair another tug, yanking your head back, forcing you to look up at him. "What did I tell you just now about callin' me 'sir'?"

Your eyes meet his and you swallow, but your mouth refills with saliva. Your mouth is as wet as your cunt, hoping he'll fill one or the other. Preferably both. "Yes, sir, daddy.. please.. help me."

"You're so sweet when you ask so nicely, beggin' me to take care of you." He lets go of your hair, his hand caressing your lower back and ass in a gentle, soothing way.

"But I ain't gonna fuck ya. You're not my type."

What you get instead is another spanking, then another, and another, until your ass feels raw, until it's nearly numb, then Joel presses two fingers deep inside, cramming you with his thick digits. Gasping a shuddering breath, you push back on him, only for him to take them away, spreading your wetness on your backside.

"You're just like your mom.. needy as a feral cat. Can't ever get enough," he grumbles, giving you another smack before inserting his fingers again, spreading your thighs wide as he shoves them in and out, smiling when he hears your cries of pleasure, the way you squeeze around him as if to keep him there. If it was his dick in there he'd have cum already, you're so snug and wet around him.

He removes his fingers again when he feels you close to the edge and your frustrated groan brings a smile to his face.

"Please, daddy.. sir.. Joel.." Whatever he wants you to call him. "Please don't stop!"

"You're gonna have to be quiet or I'm gonna stick my whole hand in this lil' pussy, stretch it out so nothin' else will ever fit."

You're shivering, your body on edge for his touch, and the fucker knows it. And you know he'll make good on his threat. You force yourself to be quiet, only the smallest whimpers escaping your lips once his fingers slide into you again, this time adding a third finger, unable to help it when you moan, "Oh, god, daddy!"

This time he doesn't pull away, keeping his fingers in a steady thrust inside you, using his free hand to slap your ass, mixing the pleasure with the pain. He parts your thighs further, lifting your hips to smack your pussy, grinning when you jolt forward, crying out, not allowing you to close your legs when you get overstimulated, continuing to land slaps upon your sensitive flesh until you whimper another please, daddy.

He mutters something unintelligible, bringing his fingers back to your soaked cunt, your juices creating an even bigger stain on his jeans. Pumping his fingers in and out, he scratches that itch, finds that spongy tissue inside that drives every woman crazy, and he rubs against it, watching you writhe, listening to your ragged gasps and desperate pleas until you squirt, your fluid dousing his hand and his lap until you beg him to stop when you become oversensitive.

He could continue, he could give you more, go all night, but he doesn't have as much patience as he used to. Positioning himself behind your sprawled out figure on the sofa, he takes himself from his jeans and strokes his length urgently, spilling his cum on your still-quivering ass and your drenched cunt.

Satisfied, he smears his cum all over you with his dick while it's still half-hard.

"Ain't that pretty," he comments. "Now, you ain't tellin' your mama nothin', and we can come to some kind of agreement that benefits us both.. right, my good girl?"

Exhausted, empty, you nod. "Yes, daddy."

tag list 💕: @survivingandenduring @evolnoomym @mountainsandmayhem @pedroswife69 @wannab-urs @lunamothgoth @inept-the-magnificent @karaslqve

[regulusrules]

So merlin is trending, huh? Here are 5 fics you should read about those immortal idiots

1. and it will set you free series by @andiwriteordie. Arguably my favourite fix-it from so, so long. The way the author introspected about their entire lifetime was unbelievably powerful. And the way they gave Arthur agency to have had a say in the whole "destiny" debacle from the very beginning.. oh my. So creative and so incredibly loving. Honestly, all of this author's works are works of art and it's a crime against the fandom how very underrated they are.

2. Smile and Pretend by Fulgance. Yes fine I know I can't keep on recommending this author's Beauty in the Ashes of Our Lives every time I get the chance. But really, this one was just as amazing. My soft heart flutters for any and all Arthur-Finds-Out fics. Especially those where he lets Merlin come to him with it instead. aaaah. This fic is definitely one of the top tiers of the category.

3. To you I swear my solemn oaths by @regulusrules. Again, yes I know I should stop flouncing around My heart is readily yours every time I get the chance. It's my hyperfixation on fics that hyperfixate over Arthur, forgive me. TYISMSO was my first ever fic in the fandom, and I always look back at it with pride of how much faith I tried to breathe between them. They were in love, your honour. God I love those two idiots so much.

4. Fathom Me Out by @supercalvin. I don't know about you, but to me this is a requirement for our fandom. If you haven't read this fic, you haven't read anything. It is absolute brilliance— in writing, in the plot, in their characterization.. absolutely everything.

5. Still I Surface in Morning Light by @queerofthedagger. Scar reveal, but make it so good that you never stop thinking about it. I can hands-down say it's one of the best scar reveal fics I've read in this fandom. It's so intricately written and their conversations are otherworldly. The despair and love you see here.. a masterpiece.

[numberonetrashwitch]

Some observations about Baldurs Gate 3 that hit too close to home.

After another few runs i will probably just make an in-Depth Character Analysis for every character simply because they are good reflections of actual trauma-manifestations and how abuse can manifest in people. They are also so well written that it serves a narrative purpose to explore all the material that is out there about them. I am also personally cursed with actual medically-relevant levels of Empathy and Hyperfixation; so writing this helps me put a pin in it and move on.

But so far here are my highlights

(SPOILERS and obviously content warning bc these are deep)

before you ask; i have almost 300h in this game.

You have to convince Shadowheart to eat the Noblestalk. She actually stells you she rather get her memories back from Shar but when you hit the persuasion or intimidation (what the fuck) check to get her to eat it she'll tell you about her childhood friend. Not her name, not her parents but her best firend. Possibly because she has had a closer bond to that person after being abducted and indoctrinated. With her believing herself to be an orphan, she would've looked elsewhere for comfort and sought out her own family, this is why she falls hard and heavy for Shar and builds the backbone of her indoctrination. She is literally ripped out of her home & given a new identity to server her from all she has known. Religious indoctrination, Gaslighting, Abduction, being forced to let go of your personality are her main themes.

There is a scene out there floating around in which you see Astarions pespective of the night when he bites Tav for the first time, in his meditations he is confronted with the rules Cazador put on him, including that he can't eat intelligent creatures, can't be away from Cazador unless allowed to, has to obey every command and that they are should know that they are property. Which in turn means that Astarion literally didn't just have any autonomy, he was objectified (and not just through seductive/sexual measures) and that is really the crux to understanding why he doesn't believe in kindness, but rather shows self-serving behavior in most cases. Since we know that Astarion was extremely young for an elf before he died and became immortal (literally stopping the aging /maturing process) it is also very telling that Cazador constantly calls him brat, boy or other very juvanile names, refering to them as a family... well it is also the story of a very controlling parent. Themes of (Bodily) autonomy, infantilization ( & puer aeternus, forever-child), slavery, depersonalisation, corruption of life and torture to break someone.

Gale isn't just a guy hung up on his Ex, but also a victim of abuse. In this case a power imbalance none of us can fathom; She is described as being a jealous goddess and rules over the domain of mysteries and magic. So with Gale being a Wizard, she is literally his boss. He admits that he was foolish enough to aspire to be an equal to her, but she is so jealous that she tells him he can't really be worthy as long as he takes breath. She could just take his powers away and be done with it, that would be more than enough punishment for a guy who literally made Mystra and her domain his life's purpose, but she rather makes him do it himself. Add to that, that she literally only tells him this after years of self-isolation (after he put down so many wards that he could've blown up a whole army as he says if you click the right dialogue) to really fuck him up well. He also talks about death pretty much constantly, not surprising giving your situation, but he will tell you that he will kill himself at several points in the game, for instance after he comes clear about his nethrese orb. Themes of romantic abuse, power-imbalance, toxic work enviorment, self-isolating behavior, suicidal ideation

Wyll ... well from the looks of it he is the most well adjusted of all the companions (my opinion) but he has something that i'd describe as the "eldest daughter"-syndrome, more commonly known as parentification. This pattern usually occurs within single-household parents and is commonly described as a parent looking to their child for emotional or practical support, rather than providing it to their kid. We meet Ulder and see that he talks over Wyll a lot, not listening but expecting him to follow the standard he sets for him. That is also why Wyll repeats his fathers words like gospel (because this is what, in his mind, fullfills the expectations bestowed upon him) and why he loves fairytales / bard tales so much (because they are an ecapist view of the job he set out to do) Ulder literally exiled his teenage son because Wyll did the only thing he could to save an entire city, by sacrificing himself. Thats a lot to expect from a 17 year old - even more so, he doesn't stop with the heroics. He expects himself, as a human who hasn't even reached the age of 30 to hold up to mystical creatures such as Astarion or Karlach, or even Gale who is a accomplished Wizard. Themes of parentification, escapism, self-harming through putting himself in danger, chronic-self-sacrifice

In plain words; Gortash, Karlach's Idol sold her to a Devil. But add to that that she must have been pretty young when she was sold (late teens to early twenties possibly) and being that if you play as a Tiefling, you face a lot of predjudice she was likely forced into that position as well. Starstruck she was, with a juvenile naitivy that Gortash used. Appropriately, as he is the chosen of Bane the god of "tyrannical oppression, terror, and hate, known across Faerûn as the face of pure evil through malevolent despotism" (Source: Forgotten-Realms Wiki / Bane) So she pretty much was raised in a toxic enviorment, which forced her to become a killing-machine, first figuretively, then with the extraction of her heart, literally. Themes of slavery, oppression, misuse of trust, being taken advantage by a more powerful/older(?) person, being drafted.

Jaheira - to be honest, you need to know the lore of the previous baldurs gate games or just listen to her dialouge, ask her all the questions. She is a war-veteran against Bhaal, the good of ritual murder, and has a long history of fighting to achieve some sort of balance of power. She lost her husband and several close people all to this, or any other war, but due to her wisdom and strength people look to her for guidance. Themes of: Survivors Guilt.

Halsin - he is really closed off at first but then just casually hits you with "i was captured in the underdark and spent 3 years chained to a bedroom wall by a pair of drows who used me as they pleased". He is reprimanded by some of his druids for leaving the grove as soon as opportunity struck, just to get back and leave the next day, and if you talk to him about his position in the grove he is actually very forthcomming. He actively holds himself back; indulging in simple hobbies because he knows what lies within his heart. He is afraid of himself and his potential (canonnically he can't control his wildshape, which is very weird for an ARCH-druid) Themes of: impostor syndrome, avoidant-based self-harm, sexual opression, loss of control, emotional regulation.

Lae'zel is a very tragic case, and one that closely resembles the stories of Shadowheart and Karlach. Her entire existence is based upon a matriachial war society allowing her to live if she proves she can be of use and that in a culture which only values brutality, dominance & service. All of that culimating in her finding out that her oh-so-beloved Queen is actually just an imposter, and that everything she has lived for up to that point is merely political propaganda created to make her, and the rest of her entire species, willing pawns in a war that has no longer bearing on their survival alone, but is fought to justify Vlaakith's (the reigning monarchs) personal ambitions. Not only is she forced to reconcile that she is turned into the thing that controlled her kind for hundreds of years, that the only cure she knows of would kill her and then on top of that, that her hopes and dreams were lies and that she is now the Nr 1 enemy of the person she has served with all her being. themes of: oppression, propaganda, casual violence, objectification, child-warfare, eternal warfare

Minthara in short, her story is about being shamed for growing up in the same scenario that Lae'zel grew up in. Lolth, the god of the Lolth-sworn drows is a crazy queen who values scheming & backstabbing so much and is so volatile that you can't know what to expect of your deeds (and i mean it; there were people who were appraised by her for scheming against her, but also those who were killed. It's almost random.) She considers Lolth to be cruel and abandoned her for the Absolute, only to then be used and abused the same way Lae'zel has. Not with promises, but erasing her memory and exposing her perceived weakness. Themes of: casual violence, violent culture, her own ambition colliding with her desire to be safe, being a pawn in a larger game.

[thats-godscomma]

Since rewatching Psych, I've been thinking about how weird and arbitrary Shawn's interests are. Sure, late 2000's writing had something to do with it, and maybe a bit of Henry and Gus's influence, but hearing Shawn be so vocal about how he hates certain popular things or (more importantly) refuses to give them a chance BUT at the same time knowing so many pop culture references, it got me thinking.

What if the reason Shawn has so many pop culture references on hand is because of his eidetic memory, and he doesn't actually have as much of an interest in pop culture? Throughout the show, he actively avoids getting roped into big interests and franchises (see: comic books, soap operas, etc.) despite the fact that he genuinely seems excited once he's part of it. In fact, we don't get to see a lot of Shawn's interests at all unless it's based on an idea.

Take being a bounty hunter, for example. According to him, he's obsessed with the idea, but he doesn't make many references to an actual bounty hunter show or franchise. Instead, he just remembers the one bounty hunter he saw as a child and maybe references a movie or two. Because once he remembers something, he's never going to forget it, or at least not for a very long time.

That's why he thinks in references. Everything is a reference if you have a good enough memory. Everything reminds you of something. If Shawn hears someone make a Spock reference, it's in his repertoire forever. But he wouldn't be caught dead watching the shows or movies because that's just too much information. Why on earth would he endure that?

Of course, it also intertwines with his ADHD. He has bouts of energy and trouble focusing. He can't sit still to save his life, and he hyperfixates...or he would if his memory didn't make him averse to it. So if he doesn't want to hyperfixate on an information-based interest, then what does he hyperfixate on? Physical activities. Instead of learning about his favorite daredevil, he tries to be one himself. When he learns about oil rigs, he doesn't get a book from the library. He tries to find oil in his backyard.

This is also where he and Henry differ regarding Shawn's "potential." Henry is correct when he talks about Shawn's "wasted" potential, but he doesn't understand the toil of having this eidetic memory and ADHD. Here's what I think happened: Henry probably noticed Shawn's stellar memory at a young age, realized he has a gift, spoke with his wife about her eidetic memory, learned that you need to challenge your child's eidetic memory at a young age or it'll go away, started the hat game to make it fun and exciting, but then Shawn's ADHD appeared. Suddenly, it made him much harder to raise (because let's be real, Shawn was not an easy child.) Henry didn't know what he was doing anymore, and since it was the 80's, he didn't have the resources to properly understand his kid's behavior, so he tried to find a common interest, and started training Shawn to be a detective "because kids love cop shows." But Shawn struggled to stay attached to one single interest, and when he grew up, he stopped trying to articulate his problems because his mom (the only person who remotely understood his struggles) left, and he blamed his dad for it.

And academics? Those are a joke because what is the point of studying if he already remembers everything? Until, of course, he needs to apply it to a problem-solving test or writing an essay. Suddenly, he's memorizing a math teacher's answer sheet and copying Gus's report.

Yes, Shawn could have been a great cop. He could be an amazing scientist or anything really. He could have been a national spelling bee champion like Gus wanted to be. Even 15 years later, Shawn remembered exactly what word Gus messed up, how to spell the word, and what letter he made Gus slip up, but he didn't want to be on that stage with Gus because that requires so much learning. And so much time. And so much memorizing. And he refuses to sit still for that long when he knows that overloading his head is going to give him migraines.

Also his "I've heard it both ways" probably comes from the fact that people with eidetic memory can still make lots of mistakes if they don't actively commit something to memory. If Shawn only overhears something, he'll still naturally try to fill in the gaps like everyone else, but because he's so confident in his memory, he just believes what he remembers to be true, leading him to repeat incorrect information with confidence. That could also be why some of his references are incorrect due to mixed-up homophones.

Anyway, this post was supposed to be about how Shawn is just a walking movie reference because his memory won't let him forget quotes, but then I fell into a rabbit hole of the negative effects of having an eidetic memory as a child, and I am very passionate about how Henry actually tried his best, and people need to stop calling him a horrible parent. Love y'all. Let me know what you think.

[bloody-peach]

The Sun Always Shines on TV (Hazbin Hotel: Vox x Reader)

SURPRISE! I'm not dead! So my buddy @omniuravity got me into Hazbin and especially my new husband Vox, and after a few headcanon chats, I just HAD to write something. So I did. Is it canon to Vox's behavior? I dunno, I haven't seen the full season, but I've seen clips, and I think I at least got a vague idea. So, sorry if not, but oh well. Still fun! This was kind of done in a rush of hyperfixation, so sorry if it's a bit rough. Anyways, enjoy!

Taglist: @fatgumsurpremacy-remastered @neonvehk @omniuravity and anyone else who loves Hazbin and Vox!

~~~♡♡♡~~~

It was midnight when the hourglass finally ran out. The counter read '000', showing that time was up. You knew what today was.

Extermination Day was here again.

The day where angels would come down to hell and massacre hundreds of sinners as a form of population control. You could hear the screams of terror outside as crowds of sinners would scurry and try to escape their fates. You could've easily been in that crowd, getting impaled through the gut by an angel's spear.

Vox pulls you close to him, his arm around you as he watched the carnage from the couch on the large TV. He knew that it was hard for you to watch sinners get butchered alive, so he would let you hide your face in his chest when things got gory. When he heard you whimper, he looks at you, a concerned look on his face, saying, "You ok, Y/N?" You look at him and nod, "Yeah..it's just...it could be me out there...what if I'm next?" Vox brushed a lock of your hair behind your ear and said, "You won't be. As long as I'm here, you're safe. I won't let them hurt you." You hug him, snuggling in his chest for comfort, glad that he was there.

In truth, Vox was just as scared as you were. You could easily be in the crosshair of an angel if you were out on the streets. He would low-key panic if you weren't there with him each Extermination Day. He couldn't stand the idea of losing you, not to anything or anyone.

He still remembers seeing you watch his show from an electronics storefront. He noticed how you were drawn to the show, but somehow, his hypnosis didn't have an effect on you. But he was amazed that even without it, you still tuned in and watched with excitement. That day, he felt there was something special about you, so he kept a close eye on you, watching you through various tv screens when you weren't looking. Then one day, he met you through a chance encounter.

You worked at Valentino's studio as the camera operator and Vox happened to show up one day. You caught a glimpse of Vox talking with Valentino and you couldn't stop staring at him. You felt a ball of anxiety in your gut build as you watched him, admiring his good looks, charismatic attitude, and mesmerizing voice. You couldn't help but swoon to yourself.

"Y/N! Are you listening?!" Valentino's voice broke your daze and you quickly ran to him, so not to enrage him. "I-I'm sorry sir! I-I just sent the footage to the editor and they'll get it done right away!" Vox saw as Val smiled at you and he felt a bit of rage. He didn't like how Val looked at you with his sleazy gaze, undressing you with his eyes. He's the only one who should be allowed to do that.

Once you started to walk away, Vox trips you and you start to fall, but he catches you before you could hit the ground. You look at him and could feel your face blush and your heart flutter. You stood up and bowed your head, "I'm sorry sir!" "Hey, no need to apologize. And no need to call me 'sir', either. Just call me Vox. Now, who may you be?" "I..I'm Y/N..." "Y/N...what a nice name. So you work for Val?" You nod, saying, "Yeah, I work the camera." Vox walks closer to you, saying, "Oh, sweetheart, your cute face doesn't deserve to be hidden behind a camera. It deserves to be displayed on TV." You blushed pure red and Vox knew he had you in his grasp.

Vox buys you off of Val and he lets you live with him at his mansion. While you were amazed by the opulence an overlord possessed, all that mattered to you was that you were with Vox. As things went on, Vox noticed how caring you were towards him, comforting him when he was stressed out over Alastor or helping him fix his screen or repair his wires when he gets hurt. He would always turn to you for comfort before anyone else. He always enjoyed being around you, loving the way you laughed, smiled, made jokes, everything. Eventually, he realized that he was in love with you.

When Extermination Day came, you were just leaving the porn studio from a long night of doing re-shoots. The bell rang and you felt your heart sink. You tried to look where to hide, pushing your way through the screaming crowd. You pass by the electronics shop when you hear a familiar voice. "Y/N! Over here!" You turned and saw Vox's face on a screen. "Vox! It's time! Extermination Day! Oh my god, what do I do?!" "Listen to me, you're not too far from where I am. Find a place to hide and stay there, I'll come get you. Ok?" You nod, tears in your eyes. He sees your fear and says in a comforting voice before signing off, "It'll be okay, Y/N. I won't let them hurt you."

With that, you look and find a dumpster. You immediately hop inside and hide, keeping quiet. Seconds felt like minutes, and minutes felt like hours as you laid there, your anxiety and fear through the roof. You kept hoping that Vox would get there soon. You then feel a wire coil around your waist and pull you out of the dumpster and hold you. You look and see it was Vox, carrying you and rushing back to his house, dodging any angel nearby.

Once you got inside, Vox grabbed you and held you, causing your emotions to crash over you as the adrenaline ran out. You hugged him tightly and cried into his chest. "Shh, shh, it's okay now, Y/N. I'm here. You're safe. You're..safe..."

You could hear tears choked up in his voice and he hugged you tightly as you both dropped to your knees. He tried to hold back his tears, but he couldn't.

He could've lost you. When he heard the bells ring, he was so scared. He needed to find you and take you home. He couldn't lose you. He couldn't. Not you. He scanned every television in the district to find you and was so relieved when he did. He rushed out the door and ran towards the studio. And now that you were here in his arms, where he knew you were safe, he started to break down. His screen started to glitch and his audio started to skip as he tried to control himself. He was usually an narcissistic egomaniac, caring about himself, but when it came to you..it was all different. He needed you.

"Vox.."

"Y/N..please...stay with me...don't go...I love you..please..."

Those words made you cry even more, out of joy now.

"Vox...I love you too..."

"Y/N.."

And with that, you both cry out your built up emotions and soon, you both were in bed together, forgetting the world outside and only listening to each other's moans and words of love.

Ever since, Vox claimed your soul and you were now permanently his. From now on, you were under his protection. If any demon fucked with you or disrespected you, that was a direct insult to him and they would be dealt with. You would work as his assistant and co-host on some of his shows, entertaining thousands of viewers all over Hell. And whenever Extermination Day hit, you stayed at home with him, sitting with him on the couch and listening to him cheer and laugh as each sinner was killed. Sometimes it helped you, other times it didn't. But he knew that.

Vox stands up from the couch and shuts off the TV, saying "Come on, let's get to bed. It should be over soon anyways." You nod, following him. It's not too long til you both lay in bed, holding each other close. The bedroom was higher up from the ground floor, so the screams and sounds of death were much more distant. You lay your head on his chest and you hear his circuits buzzing rapidly, a sign of his anxiety. You lift your head and look at him, concerned. "Vox? Are you okay, honey?" He looks at you and smiles, but his face gave away that today kind of disturbs him too. It would remind him of the day that he almost lost you. He cupped your cheek and said softly, "I am, knowing that you're with me." You smile and lean up, kiss him softly and tenderly, the kiss showing so much love. Vox reciprocated the kiss and held you close. Once you broke the kiss, you hear the bell ring out, signaling the end of the annual massacre. Vox chuckled, saying, "Perfect. Now I can get some sleep. Night, babe." You lay on him, your head resting on his chest as you respond, "Night, sweetie. I love you." Vox wrapped his arms around you, gently rubbing your back as he said softly, "I love you too, Y/N."

~~~♡♡♡~~~

I hope you all like it!!

[multific]

Modern Warfare Men as Sugar Daddies (Extra) - Preferences

Part 1

Warnings: Smut, Sugarbaby-Daddy relationship 

A/N: Since the previous post was very well-loved, I decided to write more details about the characters. Apologies if there are things which have been mentioned before. I also considered the vote and wrote this according to what people wanted to see the most. 

John Price

It was never about the money for John.

But now, he enjoyed every aspect of it.

Buying you everything you wanted, and in exchange, you would oh-so-nicely bend over his table without a question.

John is a very giving person but he does enjoy being taken care of. 

"I'll take care of you, Daddy." you would say with a sweet voice and John would be a goner.

He loves oral. Bot receiving and giving. 

But let's be fair, he is a giver after all.

He can spend hours between your legs and is not afraid to overstimulate his pretty little doll.

He likes to hear you plead and beg. 

But in the end, he would always give you exactly what you want.

And after sex, he would be a sweetheart. But let's be honest, he first needs his sleep. A little nap for Captain John Prince and then, he would be good.

He would be so hungry so no matter if you are as well or not, food would be a given. 

So be prepared for a nice order of any he craves at the moment.

You never had sushi naked before? Now you will. 

Johnny MacTavish

Let's be honest this man has a kilt.

And he fucked you many times while wearing said kilt. He would hike it up and then pound you.

The little devil doesn't even wear any underwear under his kilt.

Johnny likes you in pretty dresses. The shorter the better. Without anything under.

Just a dress. 

That's it.

Every restaurant you go to, you always feel people watching you.

"They are jealous, Bonnie." he would say. And you believe him.

Being with a handsome Daddy, wearing pretty dresses and jewellery, who wouldn't be jealous.

He likes to give you jewellery.

But his favourite is always that pear necklace he gives you every night.

Seeing you covered in his cum turns him on. It is a way to show that you are indeed his.

After the fact, showering is a must.

He would just kiss every inch of your skin while washing your entire body.

Kyle Garrick

Kyle likes to tease you in public. The thought of getting caught turns him on and you never object.

He likes to buy you things so he can rip them all off.

"I'll buy you something prettier. Let me eat that pussy now." he would always say.

And again, you don't object.

You couldn't even go to the movies without his finger soon finding your clit.

"Don't make a sound and I will give you a reward," he whispered into your ear.

You loved his games. 

And he loved to play with you.

Every outcome of his games was always so pleasurable. 

Giving you nice little rewards which could either be a night of long fucking or a new pair of shoes.

Kyle could be very kind even if he preferred to be a tease. He has his sweet moments when he just enjoys spending time with you. He would have such a sweet smile every time.

Simon Riley

Never call him Daddy. Ever!

Even IF he is your Sugar Daddy, calling him that would not work. Given how his father was with him, he banned you from calling him that after you did once.

You didn't ask why, the hurt in his eyes spoke louder than any word. So from then on, you called him Sugar or Simon. 

He would be fine with silly nicknames.

Just imagine the faces of people when you come running with a new bag to him asking him to buy it and you call him your little bunny.

Simon's favourite thing is when you tell him that he can do anything.

And you do mean anything.

So, for his upcoming birthday, your daddy asked you one gift.

Anal.

Without hesitation, you said yes.

Not like you can say no to him.

You weren't too surprised anyway. He always somehow managed to insert at least one of his fingers into your butt whenever he was fucking you, no matter the position or occasion.

But then, the next week his hyperfixation is your boobs. He wants nothing more than to fuck your beautiful boobs, no matter their size. 

After the fact, Simon would need a moment for himself, just like 2-3 minutes alone in the bathroom/kitchen to collect himself. But as the months pass, he would get more and more used to having you and he would stay in bed with you. He would pretend to sleep, he enjoys you cuddling to his side and he refuses to admit it.

König

After your little photos and videos you send him, he always sets his mind to punish you.

You deserve it, he always says. And he can be ruthless. Yet, he would never do something you don't like.

Like that one time when he was mad because you disturbed him during his debriefing, he arrived home and set his mind to fuck you senseless. 

And he did.

He fucked you first with his fingers, then a toy and finally, when you were so cock-dumb, he finally gave you his cock.

But before he did, he looked at your face, the tears and he stopped for a moment.

"Are you okay?" It was a simple question but it held many meanings. 

"Of course, Daddy."

"What's your safe word?"

"Diamond."

"Good girl."

To say that this man fucks is an understatement.

This man fucks and destroys furniture.

It got to the point where after your fifth bedframe, you two ended up with only a matress on the floor. 

The frame left marks on the wall, to the point where it needed a fresh coat of paint.

He was called King for a reason. And he is the King of your Pussy.

Logan Walker

He got used to you rather fast. To his brother's delight. 

Now the two often teased each other about you.

To your surprise, Logan is mostly normal in bed, nothing too freaky-deeky. 

Which did make you want to see the wild side of Mr Walker.

You want to know more, do more for and with him.

But you knew better than to ask his brother... that would be too weird.

You needed to find out yourself

And so, you pushed him to the edge. With what?

Jealousy.

Wearing a dress too short, looking at a man across the bar maybe for too long. 

And it did the trick.

Logan dragged you home, tied you to the bed and teased you for the entire night.

While he might not be freaky, he for sure likes to spend time with you.

You noticed he liked to just be in the same room.

Doesn't have to be sex.

But you promised to never make him jealous again. He made it clear, you were his and his alone.

He doesn't share. And the marks along your body were the proof of his claim over you.

Alejandro Vargas

Having him as a Sugar Daddy, you called him your Mexican Devil Daddy.

The one who whispers sweet things in Spanish into your ear while he does the most unpure things to your body.

He likes to have you in his arms at all times. 

Never ask him for a reason behind it.

He doesn't have to explain himself.

His hand is glued to your thigh as he drives.

Alejandro is not a huge fan of punishment but if you push his buttons, he wouldn't be nice.

He says he hates it when you whine but he actually loves it. He for sure has a thing for your brat side.

Keep telling him how much you missed him and he will give you anything you want.

"Chiquita, what would you like?"

"Dinner with you, Daddy."

"Hmm. At the place you like so much?"

"Yes."

"With the private balcony?"

"Yes."

"Do you plan on being naughty like the last time we where there? When you 'forgot' to wear your panties and I had to punish you right there and there?"

"I would never do that, Daddy. I am a good girl." 

He would laugh, you adore his laugh. 

But he would give you the world. 

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster@capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak   @manduse   @jacalineiscomingforyou  @mandoloriancookie @noname2246

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

[nina-ya]

Hello hello nina-chwan! I have this idea that I would love to read from you if it’s interesting enough? It’s about the female crush or s/o (either way is fine🤗) of law and/or marco, and whoever you want to add, who has really long hair (it reaches past her hips/butt) but she always has it in an updo.

So I’d like to know how it will go when they see it down for the first time while she was taking care of it one day. I’m trying to grow my hair out and have always wanted to have it super long so… one piece men + long hair hyperfixation got me wondering ig? 😅

I’m sorry I’m being so awkward but thanks in advance lovely 😅🧡

A/N: HIIII I got to write for the sexy doctors omgggg I also added Zoro too cause why not THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING I HOPE YOU ENJOYYY Pairings: Law x Reader, Marco x Reader, Zoro x Reader (separately) CW: None for Law and Marcos parts. References to sex and hair pulling in Zoros part. WC: 982

Law had not intended to intrude on your privacy, but as fate would have it, he found himself needing something from you soon after you had stepped out of the shower. The encounter gave him a view he had not witnessed before- your hair down, still glistening from the shower.

You were absorbed in the act of brushing out your hair when Law entered. The room smelled of your shampoo, and the sight of you taking care of your hair captivated him. Law couldn’t help but stare. He took in the soft scene unfolding before him, and it only fueled his growing infatuation for you.

You caught movement in the corner of your eyes, and turned to see Law. Surprise filled your features as you took in the sight of him leaning against the doorway with a small smirk on his face. “Didn’t mean to catch you at a bad time,” he said, his voice filled with amusement. Your face heated up, and before you got a chance to chastise him, he spoke up again, catching you off guard. “Your hair down suits you.” It was a simple statement, but it was enough to make you stumble over your words.

“Haha, thanks… I, uh...” you started, trailing off as you failed to find the words to respond. Law's gaze lingered onto you as he stepped towards you, stopping just by your side. He didn’t say anything at first; rather he just reached out to lightly touch your hair. A shiver ran down your spine at the feeling, and you watched as he twirled the damp lock of hair in his fingers for a moment. 

A small smile played on his lips as he continued, “You know, you should wear it down more often.” His words left you in a flustered gratitude.

Clearing your throat, you spoke up, “Um, did you need something?” you asked, changing the subject.

He looked at you and an air of realization crossed him that he indeed did come to you initially for a purpose, but it seemed inconsequential now, “I did, but that's not important anymore.” He dropped the piece of hair he was holding and took a step back and looked at you with a smirk as he said, “what’s important now is that you have to start showing me this more often, okay?” 

---

Marco had known your hair was long, judging by the intricacies of the hair styles you usually held it up in, but he did not know just how long your hair was. At least until he stumbled across you sitting on the edge of your bed, in the process of tying it up to protect it from what the day may hold. 

There you were, your hair falling down your sides, reflecting the light that shone through the window. Parting your hair and preparing to put it up, you looked up and saw Marcos' expression, sensing something was off. You spoke up, “What's wrong?” dropping your hands to your sides as you let go of your hair, opting to pay attention to him instead.

Marco snapped out of his trance and walked up to you as he responded, “Oh it’s nothing.” He took a seat on the bed next to you as he continued, “You just caught me off guard," he reached out and ran his hand through your hair as he continued, “I knew your hair was long, I guess I just never realized how long it was.”

A smile spread across your lips as you felt his fingers run through your hair. “Surprise” you teased. Marco chuckled, his free hand finding its way to yours, interlacing your fingers.

“I like it,” Marco said, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “But then again, I like everything about you.” He stopped running his fingers through your hair, and he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Leave it down for a bit,” he suggested, his eyes lingering on your hair.

“Why?” you asked.

He simply responded with, “I just want to admire the view.” 

---

Zoro had stumbled into your room unexpectedly, his horrific sense of direction failing him once again. As he entered, he noticed you sitting by a mirror untangling your hair. Without much of a reaction, Zoro glanced in your direction and muttered a nonchalant, “This isn’t the men's quarters,” 

You looked at him in slight surprise at the abrupt entrance and rolled his eyes at the comment. “Zoro, how the hell did you get lost on the ship? It's not even that big,” you asked, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

He grunted in acknowledgement, eyes glancing around the room before he decided to settle on your bed. You continued detangling your hair as Zoro struck up a conversation with you. He leaned against the headboard, seemingly absorbed in the conversation. Every now and then, his gaze would linger on you a moment more than usual, his expression suggesting that the conversation was not the only thing he had on his mind. But you never noticed, as you were too caught up in your own actions. 

Soon, he left the room, seemingly unbothered by the new sight of seeing your hair down, but you would soon realize that he was thinking long and hard about it. Ever since that moment, his hands always found a place in your hair. Fingers delicately threading through the strands to lull you to sleep. Gripping firmly to angle your head, seeking better access to plant kisses and bites along the length of your neck. His touch became purposeful– pulling it away from your face into a makeshift ponytail to reveal your teary-eyed expression as you worked to please him with your mouth. Intertwining and tugging hard as he is buried deep within you coaxing the sweetest moans from your throat. Maybe, just maybe, you should have let your hair down sooner.

[kagu-une]

you and mingi have been friends since childhood; you thought that you knew everything there was to know about him. there is just one secret: he's in love with you, and the feelings may be reciprocated.

pairing. song mingi x fem!reader

genre. smut mature themes ahead. minors do not interact.

content warnings. another friends-to-lovers trope (i'm not sorry). non-idol!au. dom!mingi. sub!reader. desperate sex? idk how to put it, you'll see. possible jealousy? possessive!mingi. fingering (f receiving). use of pet names such as 'baby'', 'good girl'. gentle degradation?? praise. big pp!mingi...... unprotected sex (use protection or Else). a little teenie weenie bit of plot. ahem. anyways

a/n. it seems that i write best at the ass crack of dawn, or in a (nonexistent) time crunch. anyways this is a drabble that's been living in my fully furnished frontal lobe for a while, hope it lives up to your expectations @lissiesykes :p this has not been proofread btw

smut beneath the drop down!

it was the same saturday ritual that has carried on for years since you started college and moved into your own apartment: your best friend, mingi, would come over and the two of you would waste the evening away by rotting on your couch, and forcing him to watch whatever series was your newest hyperfixation.

this saturday was no different. you had long since showered and changed into a pair of dilapidated sweatpants, and a shirt that you were sure was mingi's, but figured it shrunk in the dryer. you had just finished the usual routine of microwaving a bag of popcorn when you heard a familiar knock at your door. setting the bag of popcorn on the counter to cool off, you padded across the living room to answer the door. behind it stood mingi, his large stature easy filling up the doorframe. though you watched him hit his growth spurts as a kid, his height always caught you by surprise.

"hey!" you greeted him with a soft smile, stepping off to the side to allow him to enter your apartment.

"hey," replied he as he entered, kicking his shoes off by the door. he shrugged off the hoodie that he wore as he made his way into the living room and tossed it over the back of the sofa. "it smells good in here."

you chuckle to yourself as you close the door and lock the deadbolt; mingi said the same thing every time he stepped foot into your home, even though you made the same snacks nearly every time.

"i'd hope so... it's popcorn." you had returned to the kitchen to grab a bowl from a cabinet, and proceeded to dump the popcorn into it now that it was cool enough to handle. "we're almost done with ratched, is it cool if we finish it tonight?"

mingi had since made himself comfortable on the couch, stretching his legs out to rest against the coffee table. he turned to face you from his seat as you spoke. "of course, i was looking forward to the finale, anyways."

he took it upon himself to turn the television on, knowing you'd be joining him on the couch soon enough. he launched netflix and clicked your profile, scrolling until he found the 'recently watched' section. mingi selected the show and got comfortable in his seat. you hurried to your spot next to him, snacks in hand as the introduction to the show began to play on the tv screen.

the show had long since ended, and the two of you weren't quite ready to call it quits just yet; so, you were both facing each other, having a rather lively conversation about something that had transpired in your younger years.

"dude," mingi let out an exasperated laugh as he carded a hand through his hair. "you totally froze when you tried to ask that guy out for prom. what was his name again? hongjoong?"

you groan out in residual embarrassment, hiding your face in your hands to conceal the blush that rose on your cheeks. "do you have to remind me? god, i bet he was just as embarrassed," your voice came out muffled as you spoke into your palms.

mingi's fingers curled around your wrists and pulled your hands away, laughs still bubbling past his lips. "c'mon, y/n, it isn't that bad. when is your date with him anyways?"

your ears picked up on the jealousy that tinged his voice when he brought up the fact that, yes, you did have a date with hongjoong coming up. you had reconnected with him after seeing him on a dating app. curiosity got the best of you and you swiped right — it was a match! you brought it up to mingi last saturday, and you swore that you saw his shoulders deflate just a little when you told him. you decided not to bring it up, but you couldn't help but to think that mingi looked dejected when he left that night. maybe you were thinking too much into it.

"on wednesday, i think– why does it matter to you?"

"awe," whatever hint of jealousy that you think you heard was now drowned in a playful tone. "are you getting shy?"

mingi leaned over to poke you and tickle your side, which earned a shriek from you as you launched yourself backwards to get out of his arm's reach. you batted his hand away once your back was pressed into the opposing arm of the couch. it didn't take much for mingi to close that gap, reaching for your sides once more. somehow you both got into some sort of one-upping-wrestling-match — you trying to get away from mingi, who was dead set on trying to tickle you — that landed you both on the floor.

mingi took the upper hand as he straddled your waist, and pinning your wrists to the rug beneath you. a triumphant smile was plastered on the cheeky bastard's face — he knew he had won. the two of you mirrored each other's labored breathing as you looked up at the man above you, eventually locking eyes.

the same man that got to watch you grow up, and you, him.

the same man who, when your first boyfriend broke your heart, mingi broke his nose.

mingi, who would schedule his weekends to make time for you.

mingi, with that same lazy smile that he's always had. the same smile that caused your heart to skip a beat in your chest.

the realization that you were in love with your best friend hit you like a freight train. as your eyes dipped to his plump lips, you wondered what this meant for your friendship. the last thing you wanted was to lose your best friend.

you sucked in a breath that you hadn't realized you were holding, and that soft noise is what set things into motion. mingi lowered himself on top of you, closing the gap between your bodies. his lips crashed onto yours with a ferocity that you've never seen from mingi before.

you whimper softly, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and yanking it on it. mingi understood what was being asked and pulled away to remove it. this allowed you to catch your breath... and for reality to come crashing down on you.

"mingi," you breathed out, your meek plea too quiet for him to hear over the roar of his own heartbeat in his ears.

he pulled his shirt off and tossed it to the side, before leaning forward to hover over you again, each of his hands posted on either side of your head. you did your best to keep your gaze off of his newly exposed skin.

you repeated, "mingi." it caught his attention now, mingi's eyebrow raising. "we can't do this." you didn't mean a word that came out of your mouth, but the disquietudes that swirled in your head told you to believe otherwise.

"goddamn it, y/n." he almost sounded defeated.

him cursing caught you off guard. it wasn't that you had never heard mingi cuss, because you had and did; but, never at you.

"don't you get it?" his voice was small, almost a whisper. "i love you. i've been in love with you for so long, y/n."

the confession caused your stomach to flip. whether it be out of excitement or fear was to be determined.

"i watch as you choose other people knowing that i can treat you right. i know you, y/n. everything about you. i was made for you."

mingi's face closed in on yours, and the fact that you weren't protesting only encouraged him to continue.

"no one understands you like i do. no one can make me feel so alive like you can. i don't want to live with the regret of knowing that i never tried. i need this for me." his breath fanned your face as he spoke.

his lips were brushing yours by this point. there was no denying the emotions that buzzed between you both. your hands snaked around his shoulders and pulled him forward, officially sealing your fate.

there was no time wasted from here. mingi's mouth connects with yours fiercely. his kiss instantly becomes intense as he lowers himself onto his elbows, allowing him to cradle your head in one of his hands. his fingers grip at your hair, anchoring your head back. when a soft moan slips out of you is when he plunges his tongue into your mouth. mingi moves with passion, and hope; yet, is far more calculated in his movements than you expected.

you lift your legs up to remind him that he is still sitting on you. one of his chuckles falls against your lips as he shifts his weight, using his knees to push your thighs apart and slots himself in the space between them.

when he pulls away, a string of saliva beads between your bottom lips. you break it with your finger as mingi moves to tug at your sweatpants. from your position, you could see that a tent of arousal began to form in the crotch of mingi's jeans. with the joggers out of the way, mingi could see how your panties clung to your core, your arousal blooming on the gusset.

"you have no idea how often i've thought of you like this." admitted mingi, that shit eating grin returning to his plump lips. he trailed a finger over your clothed slit, eyes flicking up to your face to watch your reactions to his touch. noting how you arched your back to chase the feeling, he tugged your panties to the side.

a shiver raced through you once your cunt was exposed, though you blushed feverishly underneath mingi's scrutiny. he continued to toy with you, leisurely and with no hurry. he dipped a finger to your entrance, only to collect your juices on his fingertips and repeat the process.

"don't be a tease, mingi," you whined out in protest, reaching down to lead his hand where you needed them most. you couldn't help but to be impatient. mingi's hands were always nice, and they had recently occupied your mind when you touched yourself.

"oh?" he asked, rhetorically. to pacify your whines, he pushed a finger into you, but held it there at the second knuckle. his thumb took position over your clit and applied enough pressure to make you shudder. "how bad do you want it, then?"

you were in no position to beg to begin with, and mingi knew it. the lack of friction was driving you crazy, but when you decided to gyrate your hips to seek out the pleasure, mingi pinned your hips down to the ground. his hand pressed into your belly, his eyes narrowing in an unspoken dare.

"tell me how bad, baby."

then he began to move his finger inside of you. at first, they were short strokes with him curling it every so often. his thumb had resorted to gentle circles against your clit.

though, when you hadn't spoken to oblige his request, another finger was added. you moaned softly as you were stretched out. usually, two fingers weren't enough to make you feel full. with mingi, however, it was just right.

he began to pull his fingers out of you, stopping just before he left you completely empty — only to thrust them back into you, bottoming out to his knuckles.

you let out a strangled cry, trying to press your knees together from the stimulation but the way mingi had you pinned made it impossible to achieve. he leaned into his hand, beginning to open you up with his fingers.

"please- fuck- mingi!" you managed, throwing your head back at the pleasure.

"there you go, y/n, i knew you could beg for it." mingi's eyes were trained on his hand, watching as your pussy swallowed his fingers up. "i make you feel so good, don't i? look at how wet you are."

you nod fervently, clinging onto every word that left his mouth. "please, mingi... i-... i need you so bad. so bad." you weren't meaning to babble so mindlessly. everything about this situation had your head reeling.

"good fucking girl." he punctuated every one of his words with deep thrusts of his fingers into you. you knew that if he kept it up at this pace, you wouldn't last much longer; even more so when he used his free hand to massage your clit.

the familiar heat began to pool in your stomach. every nerve was alive, your skin crawling with electricity. "m... mingi, i'm so close..." your eyes screwed shut as you tried your best to postpone the impending orgasm.

mingi was a man on a mission as he began to mouth at your breasts through your shirt. you pulled it up and out of the way, pushing your bra down so that your breasts were bare. his eyes drank in the sight of you as more of your body was exposed. he was a starving man sat before a feast. his plush lips closed around one of your nipples, sucking it between his teeth and rolling it between them. you cried out, your hands finding their way into mingi's hair and tugging at it.

the heat licked at your belly and spread down to your thighs as your climax closed in on you. you tried to warn him, but you were only left with your jaw slack as your orgasm rocked your body. stars studded the corners of your vision as your muscles tensed.

mingi fingered you through your orgasm, cooing sweetly into your ear as you rode your high. "you're so beautiful, all for me. all mine. you belong to me."

he didn't give you much time to recuperate from your previous orgasm before he was doffing his pants and sliding his own boxers down his thighs. with how hard he was, you could only imagine the restraint he was using before.

nothing could have prepared you to see that mingi was well endowed. you were grateful for him opening you up earlier, as you were unsure if he'd fit at all. you weren't clueless when it came to sex, but none of your previous partners were quite as big as be was.

he turned to grab a throw pillow off of the couch, motioning for you to bridge your hips. once you did, he slid the pillow beneath you. "there you go." he squeezes your bare thigh in reassurance.

your skin was warm and damp from the exertion from your previous orgasm. your pussy ached to be filled again, and you could only press your legs farther apart as mingi grasped the base of his cock and dragged his tip between your drenched folds. you shiver under his touch, especially when the head of his cock teased your hole.

mingi knew he was on borrowed time. he wanted to get inside of you before he went off like a shotgun, seeing how turned on he was from watching you come undone all over his fingers; yet, he wanted to savor the moment as long as he could. he wasn't quite convinced that this wasn't another wet dream of his. to wake up now would be so unbelievably cruel.

he eased himself into you, eyes oscillating between your pussy and your face. above all else, your safety was his main priority. every cry and whimper was a sign for him to stop, and wait until you gave a signal that you had acclimated to him stretching you out. eventually, he hit the hilt of his cock. his hips pressed against yours as he leaned forward to capture your lips in a kiss.

you caught his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging on it and watching as it snapped back into place. from here, you realized how beautiful that mingi truly was. his bone structure and perfectly pouty lips, and eyes that could pierce right through you.

those pouty lips were drawn into a soft smirk when you pulled away from the kiss. you nodded and shifted your hips, giving mingi the go-head to start moving.

his movements were slow and careful. his honeyed gaze boring a hole straight through you as he watched you take every inch of him. you sucked in a sharp breath through your teeth, but soon the pain dissolved into wanton pleasure and need. you wrapped your legs around him as his tempo began to increase, motivating mingi to speed up.

soon, the only sounds that filled the apartment was skin against skin, and how when he angled his hips just right, turned your individual moans into high pitched whines.

mingi straightened his posture, only to grab your hips and pull you into each thrust that he delivered to you. he was desperate to feel you, desperate to get your walls to remember the shape of him. his eyebrows were knitted together with focus. a bead of sweat trailed from his forehead to his jaw.

"gonna split you in half if i have to," he muttered between heavy pants. "you're mine, y/n."

you had clamped a hand over your mouth to muffle the cries and moans that tumbled from your lips. you were sure that you'd get a noise complaint from the apartment complex tomorrow. the way mingi had you positioned made it so that with every stroke of his dick, he was ramming right into your g-spot. you blinked away tears that threatened to spill as you took what he gave you.

"do you hear me? mine." he was starting to get sloppy as he neared his own orgasm. he pressed your thighs up against your chest as he drilled into you, chasing his own orgasm. "fuck- mine. mine, mine, mine." he chanted the word like it was a mantra.

your core was tightening in another climax.

"mingi... please- i'm yours—.." you mumbled between whines and hiccups. "'m gonna cum,"

mingi's hand returned to your belly, pressing into it and earning a yelp from you. feeling his cock as it fucked you open was overstimulating. all you could manage to do was whimper and writhe beneath him.

"are you going to cum all over– fuck..– this dick? cum for me, pretty girl."

as soon as you tipped over the edge with your own orgasm, mingi's followed suit. his whole body stiffened as he came, a shiver wracking his spine as a pinched moan escaped him. your head was still swimming with pleasure as mingi stuffed you full of his seed.

you both sat still for a few moments following, the two of you catching your breaths. mingi eventually slides out of you, leaving you feeling oddly void inside. he stood, and your gaze followed him as he disappeared into the back of your apartment. once he came back, he had fixed his clothes to cover himself once again. he was carrying a warm washcloth that he used to help you wipe yourself clean.

he joined you in the floor again, laying on his side so that his torso was pressed against your side. he peppered gentle kisses along the side of your face, carefully brushing strands of hair back into place. your body was heavy, and your eyes were half lidded from physical expenditure that took place. you turned to snuggle into mingi's chest, draping an arm over his side.

"mingi." you decided to break the silence, not yet leaving the cover of his chest to meet his eyes.

"yes, y/n?"

"i love you, too. so much. forever." the confession felt natural on your tongue. only then did you decide to tilt your head back to look at him. he wore a goofy smile on his face, now wearing his own flush on his cheeks at your revelation.

"forever." mingi echoed, drawing you into his embrace once more. you welcomed his warmth. when you nuzzled your face into him, his scent wrapped around you.

you could get used to this.

[yawujin]

Heyyy I havent seen you write any danganronpa stuff recently so if you fell out of interest its alr I was just wondering if you could please write danganronpa v3 boys x reader at the beach HEAVY on korekiyo haven't seen much fan stuff for him and it saddens me.

anyway pls&thx have a good day :)

hey anonnn, you're right i haven't written for dangan in a bit...thing is; i have a hard time writing for things i'm not currently hyperfixating on (bad trait to have i know) there are a ton of requests for dangan hcs/x reader in my inbox rn so i'll try to get more of those done ദ്ദി(˶‾᷄ᗜ‾᷅˵ ᵕ) hope you enjoy this in the meantime!!

request | v3 boys x reader 🏖 beach edition

type | headcanon format , reader insert , light hearted , you pronouns used

shuichi saihara ♡

easily gets sunburned so he prefers to stay under a beach umbrella most of the time

asks you for help with applying sunscreen all over his exposed skin

brought water bottles for everyone (my thoughtful kinggg <3)

lowkey would want to play volleyball w everyone else but think he'd be too awkward whilst playing

would most likely invite you to sit under an umbrella with him near the shore and listen to the sound of the waves with you

rantaro amami ♡

walks along the pier with you

buys you whatever you want at the concession stands there

"this beach is beautiful, you should see the ones i've traveled really far to see, too. they're amazing!" he exclaims

rantaro shows you a plethora of pictures he's taken of beaches all around the globe

would most likely collect a little bit of the sand from the beach just to keep a piece of it with him for memory's sake.

k1b0/kiibo ♡

he is awaaaaay from the water

he stands up on the rocks , looking out to the ocean (he would like to admire it without getting wet)

he's 100% a nerd so he gives you some fun facts about sharks , fish , etc

when you come back from swimming, he tells you how cool you looked

he totally wishes he could go and swim w you :(

korekiyo shinguji ♡

he enjoys the atmosphere , and your company ofc

you two walk on the pier talking about what to get for lunch

ngl it feels like a date when you are sitting across from kiyo, eating your food

"it's beautiful, isn't it?" he says, after a moment of quiet

"yeah! the beach is pretty nice." you reply

"i meant you, dear." he tells you

wink

kaito momota ♡

he's the one that set up the volleyball net

trying to encourage his sidekick to play volleyball with him

after getting rejected 5 times within a minute, he asks you

"i won't go easy on ya!"

kaito got a little too cocky for someone who kept on getting foul balls

gonta gokuhara ♡

quietly observing the hermit crabs on the beach

he marvels at the slugs crawling up the rocks

he's lowkey in bug heaven rn

you tell kokichi to stfu when he tells gonta that his hair looks similar to seaweed

"does gonta's hair really resemble seaweed?" he frowns

you comb your fingers through his hair and reassure him that his hair looks just fine :)

ryoma hoshi ♡

spends most of his time away from the crowd or in a shop on the pier

"beaches really aren't my type of scene"

you walk about a mile or two with him on the endless sands of the beach

you hadn't expected him to break the long silence until he said:

"glad you're here to keep me company."

he's pulling his beanie down to shade his eyes from the sun (and to hide his cute embarrassment)

kokichi ouma ♡

"let's both run into the water in three...two...one!"

except he stayed behind and let you do it all alone, much to your embarrassment (and annoyance)

he makes it up to you by buying you an ice cream

"awww don't be so mad! after we're done we can go swim together! promise!"

surprisingly, he keeps his promise and you two have a good time

you splash each other with ocean water playfully and engage in a small game of water tag

⋆ ˚｡⋆ my ao3

[bisexualiteaa]

would it be alright if you were to write a fluff(maybe smut?) hancock x reader who has adhd who's just overwhelmed with quests and doesn't know which one to do first? Lol please and thank you:)

Of the People, For the People

John Hancock x ADHD!GN Reader (FLUFF!!)

CW: reader struggles with their ADHD, John thinks it’s cute, cursing, guilt, restlessness, slight OOC Hancock, slight suggestive themes towards the end, fluff, possible grammatical/spelling errors, briefly proof read

AN: as someone with ADHD this ask actually really hit home. It was half the reason why I could never start games like Fallout and Skyrim in the first place was because there are so many things you can do, the idea alone was overwhelming to me because I knew it’s start and never finish just about everything pushed my way. Then the TV series came o it and all that changed upon the simple acquirement of a hyperfixation on the ghoul and thus my love for fallout was born! 😂 I am still rather new to Fallout games, lore and such so please be gentle if I have gotten anything wrong, I’m still doing my best at learning everything I can to write these well and properly! But I hope I did your ask some justice with this Anon! Hope you all enjoy some more love for our Mayor Hancock. 🥰

Tag-list: @expirednukacola

“Ugh, there’s just too much to doooo” you whined as you plopped down onto his bed in the state house, exhausted and sore all over from setting up not one, not two, but three whole settlements in one day. Of course it wouldn’t be a day out in the commonwealth if you hadn’t run into monstrosities along the way or people along the way to other settlements who needed other things from you. For instance, there was someone who needed saved from thinking they were a synth and returned to their parents, other people who needed help getting their settlements started, people who needed you to kill some super mutants, people who needed you to eliminate some feral ghouls some place else, and after that you couldn’t even remember if you tried. Thank goodness for your Pip-Boy keeping track of these things or else you feared you’d never remember it all. There was just so much that others, especially Preston, were asking of you to do out here that it was beginning to become just a bit too overwhelming to take on all at once. You loved that you could be help for people, so unfortunately you never really paid your own wellbeing any mind until now that it was at such a detriment you could hardly even think straight, much less accurately hit a target or properly even speak to someone without sounding like intelligence was your dump stat. You wanted ever so badly to be that light for people who had seemed to lose hope because it’s what you would want others to do for you if you were in need. You lived and breathed by that golden rule taught to you so long ago. Come to think of it, the only person who you’d done everything for last that you could remember was Hancock, which was actually how you two ended up together.

“Being commander of the Minutemen will do that to ya, sunshine” Hancock teased, leaning against the door frame as he looked at you, tiredly splayed out on his bed in amusement, finding it funny that the commander of such a large militia could be so…well, you. Anyone else would likely be overwhelmed with power to the point of paranoia, or the opposite and let it go to their head and break them of the person they once were, but you were still yourself through everything. He admired the way you wanted to help people, the way you helped the poor and needy in the ways he wished the rich would do, but he could tell it was taking a clear toll on your wellbeing in doing so. He genuinely couldn’t remember the last time you told someone no, or that you flat out just couldn’t help them because he could see that look in your eyes when someone asked you for help. He saw the sympathy, the pain, saw the way you felt so bad knowing that if you didn’t, they likely wouldn’t make it out in the harsh world of the commonwealth. His heart ached for you in that sense, because he remembers a time when he wanted to help everyone in his town that he could, any way he could, hell it was the whole reason he became the mayor of Goodneighbor in the first place. But just like you, he needed someone to make him realize that you can’t do everything, some things just have to play out and fix themselves on their own. “But I think you need to take a break from it for a day or two, give yourself a chance to recoup. You’re working’ yourself to death and I’m startin’ to get worried” he added, walking into the room to join you and he watched you sit up, looking completely defeated and worried at the idea of not helping others or running things for just a day, let alone two but also at the fact that now he was concerned for you. “But they need me, John. If I don’t help them…what would become of them? What kind of leader would I be to just leave them in shambles? I can’t live with the idea of lives lost because of me…” you said with a guilty tone, clearly torn between the idea of helping yourself or helping others, and the sweet innocence of your good natured personality made him smile softly as he closed the door behind him and sat down next to you on his bed.

“Even heros need a vacation, love. Helping people who won’t make it is wonderful, it’s one of the many things I love about you. But people can just as easily be hurt when they’re guided in the wrong direction because the person directing them isn’t taking care of themselves the way they need to. A good leader needs strength sure, but that strength depletes and needs replenished every now and again, and that’s okay” he said, grabbing your hand in his, squeezing it in the hopes to offer you some level of comfort to assure you his words meant no harm, he simply just wanted you to look out for yourself as much as you looked out for others around you. He knew it got through to you when he heard you exhale an audible deep breath you’d been holding in for so long. “I guess, I just…I don’t know. It feels extra difficult for me because I can never stay focused on just one thing. I get started on one project, then someone comes along and I get so side tracked trying to help them that I forget all about where I started! I probably have twenty of these damn missions at least half started before I dropped them for something else entirely. It’s so frustrating and overwhelming because then they all start to pile up, and then I don’t know where to start!” you explained, making him laugh. Who would have ever guessed his big, fearless commander of the Minutemen, partner was easily sidetracked by their ADHD. But he wouldn’t want you any other way. “Yet you completed everything I asked of you with no issue” he pointed out with a smug grin, making you blush at the realization that he noticed that. “Well…yeah. I did it because I liked you and wanted to get closer to you. I was fixated on it because I wanted it to better my chances of being with you, so to me it wasn’t work. It was just doing something that you, someone I care for, asked me to do, so I did it” you admitted bashfully, making him smile at the wholesome reason you gave him. “That’s so fucking cute” Hancock replied as he put his arm around you, pulling you into his side, making you blush even more before covering your face with your hands. “It’s cute until you realize I killed someone for you” you quipped with a grin once you’d moved your hands away to look at him, making him chuckle at your reply. “Made it even” he joked, referring to when Finn tried to haggle you when you first showed up to Goodneighbor. “Fair enough” you responded as you chuckled, but he could still tell that you hadn’t fully come around to the idea yet, something still had its hold on you but at least you started to open up to the idea.

“C’mon, let’s just take the next couple of days to relax. The settlements will be fine, they run pretty well on their own, I’m sure they can survive a day or two without you. Maybe Nick or Codsworth can run ship while you take the time to yourself” he said, making you lean your head against his shoulder as you contemplated it. “Poor Codsworth, I wouldn’t do that to him. He tended to my house for two hundred years despite the absolute state of decay it was in from the explosions, thinking the family would come back any day and it drove him nearly mad. I could only imagine what running settlements would do to him” you said, making him chuckle. “Okay then how ‘bout Nick? He’s traveled with you long enough, he’s a smart guy, I’m sure he could handle it. I’m sure he’d more than understand that you need some time to yourself to get back that good ol’ fighting spirit” he added. “You think so?” You asked skeptically, making him sling his arm around your waist to hold you close and help ease your nerves the best he could. It was times like these that you wished you had the confidence and aloof attitude Hancock had about just about everything. “I know so. Think about it, you set them up, taught them what they know, they already manage pretty well on their own, they got this! Just lay back and relax for a change!” he said, easing your nerves just a little bit more at the idea. For someone who never wanted a leader to be too comfortable, he really wanted you to be, it was strange yet heart warming to see how much he cared about you and wanted to make sure you were taking care of yourself. So you finally gave in, maybe a couple of days to relax and do what you wanted to do didn’t sound bad after all. Maybe you could enjoy a couple of drinks one night, or hell, maybe enjoy just sleeping in a bed two nights in a row for a change, give your body a rest from sleeping on the cold hard ground in a sleeping bag. And not have to worry about all the things floating around in your mind that need done. That sounded like heaven to you once you convinced yourself with Hancock’s help that it could really be useful. “Okay, but if I do, I can’t just lay in bed all day. I literally can’t, I’ll go crazy” you said, making him laugh, knowing the way you can’t sit still for more than a few minutes at a time just on the regular while you’re on the go. “We don’t have to, these couple of days are for what you wanna do sunshine. Though I wouldn’t mind it of course if we spent all of it in bed, but staying in bed all day doesn’t necessarily mean *just* sleeping, ya know” he said, his voice slipping into that characteristic deep, gravelly suggestive tone with a mischievous grin painting his thin, irradiated lips as he pulled you into his side, making you laugh. “John!” You said, seemingly flabbergasted at his reply, but truthfully you hadn’t expected anything less from him. “Oh you know I love it when you yell my name, keep doin’ it sunshine” he said flirtatiously with that ever recognizable smirk painted across his face as he crawled on top of you on the bed, littering your face and neck with kisses through a shared fit of laughter. Maybe a little break wouldn’t be so bad after all.

[babyaiker]

I’m writing this at 5am but when @verdemoun “kieran duffy hyperfixation page” themself encourages you to talk about your now 5 month long obsession, you know you gotta,,, 

Mini break down of Kieran’s characterization in the Paying A Social Call mission, lets go

Before I get too far please know I genuinely have no beef with people who baby Kieran. He’s a fictional character and we’re all just having fun, I just really like analyzing the text ^^

In my last post where I talked about my favorite part of Kieran’s character, I briefly mentioned how the mission Paying a Social Call (the mission in chapter 2 where Kieran is freed) contains a lot of characterization for Kieran that a chunk of the fandom misses. It was when I was watching someone's random stream did I remember how much was getting left out. While I've seen plenty of people rant about Kieran's mischaracterization in the fandom, details from this mission were often left out of the discussions I personally saw. So while I really don't care WHO you interpret Kieran as, having an excuse to rant about the mission I could probably quote start to finish is fun.

Despite the circumstances Kieran finds himself in, he’s not a coward. He knows his worth and isn’t afraid to bite back at others for messing with him. The only reason he cowers and runs off is usually because he was physically hurt, threatened to be hurt, or knows the person he's talking to would gladly hurt him. We have evidence of him acting like this in maaany different ways through the hidden dialogue scenes in camp. His goddamn catchphrase “I ain’t no O’Driscoll” is an example in of itself, showing that he isn't just cowering and crying because of how he’s treated, he's actively fighting against it.

But now let’s actually get into Paying A Social Call, as the only thing Kieran does throughout the entire mission besides show the boys where Six Point Cabin is, is defend himself. 

The beginning of that quest is well… a beginning for sure. I’d probably be a mess too if I was starving and about to get my nuts ripped off. 

His whole “I ain’t no O’Driscoll” shtick only gets louder the second he’s untied. He’s as cooperative as he needs to be, but is gonna make sure everyone knows he isn’t happy about it. While there's a lot of snarky shit he can end up saying, the dialogue where he directly compares the Van Der Lindes to the O’Driscolls is something special. Like Jesus I would not be saying that shit in the predicament you're in right now! While you can still hear the unsureness in his voice, he’s not afraid to say it as it is. (I still find it interesting that even non Kieran fans will point back to that dialogue as foreshadowing and be like "aw shit the horseboy was right fellers")

Okok skipping ahead to the end cuz arughh there's a specific line said in the last scene that completely changed Kieran’s character for me. All I’ll say about the gunfight is that right before it, when John has his gun up against Kieran, while the camera pans to a group of O’Driscolls, you can see Kieran give Arthur a thumbs up when Arthur shushes him. It’s such a tiny detail but it amused me and my partner when we discovered it.

At the end of the mission, after Arthur realizes that Colm isn't there, he confronts Kieran at gunpoint, pretty much ready to kill him. Kieran of course acts like how we’d think he would,,, he promptly begs for his life. But once Arthur spares him and gives him the decency of running away, Kieran doesn't grovel back to him, begging to be taken back, he fuckin yells at him. He understandably points out that letting him go free is as good as killing him, as the rest of the O’Driscolls would likely have his head for this (didn’t like typing that). His very blunt, angry line of “So I’m one of YOU now!” genuinely made me rethink what I’d been assuming about him. It likely dawned on me while I was staring at the streamer’s “hose goat” cam, but just demanding a spot in the gang like that isn’t something a coward would do. He is incredibly firm in his “fuck you, you’re stuck with me now”.

Even his dialogue after is just more examples of him being very aware of his vicarious situation (Arthur: “Alright, but I’m warning you”, Kieran: “Oh, I know”) and being more than eager to start proving himself useful (Kieran: “See Arthur, I ain’t so bad!” ^^)

I genuinely think the whole “whiney useless baby” assumption comes from the fact we play as Arthur. Arthur VERY adamantly views Kieran this way, literally calling him a baby as a way of antagonizing him. And because most everyone loves Arthur, they’re bound to view Kieran the same way he does. Unreliable narrator kinda thing, though I'm not saying that's a bad thing in the slightest. And with the magic of RDR2’s actually good character writing, I can sit here for 700 words summarizing why Kieran’s actually kinda cool sometimes. 

So ya, I wouldn’t say Kieran’s a coward, but I’m also not gonna say he’s some crazy cool badass murderer outlaw. He’s a dude trying to survive who’s been kicked out of or lost every home he’s known. He’s still a silly guy I wanna lovingly snap over my knee like a twig. With the life he’s lived you can’t afford to be unable to stick up for yourself, he’s just smart enough to know when it’s time to lay low.

[moongreenlight]

Greek mythology/the Olympians has been my hyperfixation for going on two decades now and I just… Soap as Dionysus.

Always brings a good bottle of wine and a few rooted cuttings of ivy as a housewarming gift. If he’s fixed his attention on you, he’ll also put a few sex toys in the little bag he brings. Puts them right on top for the pleasure of seeing your scramble to try to shove them in a drawer or tuck the whole gift in the closet.

He’s a great time. Has this intoxicating way about him. Like life is a stage and he’s the director. Playful and fun, though a little too enthusiastic at times. Handsy when the two of you hang out. You assume that’s just his nature and excuse it accordingly. Hard not to, gorgeous man that he is. A divine kind of handsome. Like his features are an eons-old amalgamation of all the most beautiful features humans have ever had.

And he gets strangely possessive, even after you’ve been nudging back his wandering hands or putting your hand between his mouth and your neck all night. Borders on vindictive and aggressive if he’s not in the right headspace.

It’s a bit terrifying to see him snapping his teeth in the face of some man at the bar who had only just asked you if you’d wanted a drink. You swear later in the night you see him babbling feverishly to a group of his friends. It sounds like total gibberish, and his friends look even more confused than you feel, but his eyes are wide as saucers and his hands are flying about hazardously. You don’t think much of it after Soap pulls you by the waist to the corner booth and tips a cocktail up to your mouth.

He keeps you out until all hours of the night. Insists on staying jovial. Club-hopping to find the best crowd, best music, best conversation. Keeps you up and active for so long that the confines of reality start to become fuzzy at the edges.

Sexuality expressed through bodies writing and twisting in drunken dance. Bumping up against one another. Collecting strangers and your own sweat in fat beads on your skin that make you shiver when they get heavy enough to trail down the small of your back.

When the room is spinning enough to make you stumble just a bit and you’re unable to do anything but giggle about it, he’s somehow able to make sneaking off into the family bathroom together seem like a good idea. He seems just as drunk as you are, slinging an arm around your shoulders when you walk. Bellowing a laugh when his hand grazes your tit but making no attempt to pull it away.

It’s less easy to be oblivious when you’re in the bathroom together. The muffled music filtering through the bottom of the door. He’s pressing up against you even though now there’s no crowd to excuse his practically grinding his groin on your hip.

It smells like sweat and generic brand bathroom cleaner. You hum when he staggers to the urinal instead of griping at him about how crass it is to take a piss right in front of you. He props himself up on the wall with one hand and a moment after you hear the teeth of his zipper come undone, he lets out a throaty, satisfied groan.

You busy yourself looking in the mirror. Checking your makeup. Seeing if you look as drunk as you feel. It’s filthy. There’s a web of cracks coming from the bottom left where it looks like someone tried to send their fist through to the wall behind it. It makes you a bit dizzy to look at and you have to bend at the waist to get close enough to see the way your mascara has smudged all around your eyes.

And all of a sudden there’s a burning heat behind you. Sickly, feverish heat pressing straight into the pillows of your ass. Soap’s spidery reflection shows up just over your smile sporting a wicked grin. Teeth and eyes flashing.

You try and swat him away, all too used to his comings-on, but he digs his fingers into the fat of your hips bruisingly hard.

“C’mon, hen. Been driving me mad all night. Relax a bit. Jus’ need this. Need you. Please.”

He has to lay flat over your back to hiss in your ear. Teeth clenched like he really needs to put some effort behind his words to sound polite. Like a petulant child who’d just been reminded by their mother to practice manners.

You were practiced in batting back his advances, but for some reason his grit made you falter. His gaze seemed to be burning a hole through you in the mirror. The idea that something inside him was hitting a roaring boil that he couldn’t stop from flowing over made your brain go foggy. The opposite of sobering. His aberrant need was contagious and catching quick.

He smelled like sweat and cheap cologne and dry, sweet wine and woods. Flirty and masculine and overwhelming. And he’s warm and strong behind you, even if he’s pushing his hard cock into you.

Who were you to deny him the pleasure of snapping his hips into your backside a few times? Letting his fingers impatiently tug at the button of your jeans and hastily tug them down with your underwear until they pooled around your ankles?

It didn’t help that the sound of him sending a glob of spit into his hand made you clench around nothing. A familiar warmth gathering between your thighs that made you shift a bit to chase the momentary relief even a touch of friction could provide.

He couldn’t even afford you the decency of pretending not to see. No. Instead he points a spotlight on you and insists you perform for him again. Nudging your legs apart and pressing his thigh flush against your core while purring the filthiest things in your ear.

“Ken I jus’ needed to wear you down, mm? Thought ‘bout this before we went out. Always did get sloppy when you drink. Jus’ needed a little push. That’s it -Jesus- cunt’s so wet. Gonna take good care of her.”

And the club is so packed full of drunken, dancing bodies that hardly anyone notices the way you two stumble out of the bathroom fifteen minutes later. Even though you’re still fumbling with the button of your jeans with shaking hands.

[slasher-male-wife]

Slashers reacting to reader succumbing to Stockholm syndrome part two

So part one got a lot of notes and I wanted to write a part two, I'm also in a bit of a vampire hyperfixation thanks to Near dark so I'm including The Lost boys even though they wouldn't always kidnap their future s/o. This is again inspired by the lovely @slasherhaven, who's back from a long break. Anyway part one is here

Includes: Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair, Otis Driftwood and Jason Voorhees

Warnings: Stockholm syndrome, murder, slight gore descriptions in Otis's bit, reader is really far gone, manipulation kind of, kidnapping

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas went out early while you stayed in the house with Luda Mae. For the first few weeks of staying here all you did was cry and yell. But now months into living here you're more docile, quiet and afraid but docile enough. When Thomas returns to the house for lunch you're setting out plates on the table for everyone, with Monty watching over you. When you see Thomas you smile and finish setting down the plates and forks.

"Good to see you Thomas. I'm glad to see you're back in time for lunch. I helped make it today," You walk over to the door and stand before Thomas, he looks down at you confused. You rarely spoke to anyone in the house before this, and when you did it was a simple yes or no, "I'll be right back." You stand on your toes and press a kiss to his cheek before leaving the dining room.

Thomas takes a seat and looks over to Monty for any kind of clue as to what's going on, but he can't give him any answers.

Later that night you're getting ready for bed with Thomas. He's still confused about earlier and why you're so nice all of the sudden.

"Thomas," You say turning over to him. He just looks down at you and nods, "I wanted to thank you for taking care of me. I'm glad you chose to do this for me." All he can think to do is nod. He doesn't know what's going on with you, but he's not going to tell you to stop anytime soon.

Vincent Sinclair

When Vincent first wakes up he finds it odd that your arms are wrapped around him. In the two months you've been here you've never wanted any physical contact with him unless he forced it. Lately you've been more calm in a sense. The screaming and pleading to be let free awhile ago, but when he had to tie you to something in the basement to keep you from running you stopped trying to break the restraints two weeks ago.

He slowly shifts and you start to wake up. A smile spreads on your face while you stretch.

"Good morning Vincent," You say somewhat cheery compared to your past moods, "Did you sleep well?" He nods while looking into your eyes, trying to see if you're going to crack your act. But your smile stays and you push hair out of his face, "I'm glad. Is it ok if I walk upstairs with you today? I promise I'm not going to leave." Now he's really confused. Why are you so loving all of a sudden. He's never kept a victim around this long so he doesn't know if it's something common. He shakes his head and stands up out of bed.

He leaves the basement and locks the door behind him. Listening for a few minutes he doesn't hear you screaming or trying to break anything. When he leaves and returns 20 minutes later you're still in bed, sitting up now and studying a small wax figure.

"Welcome back Vincent." He just looks at you before setting down his food and coffee. He's going to have to talk to Bo about this. But if you're being genuine with your feelings then he's going to keep you around longer than he thought.

Otis Driftwood

He quickly picked up on the change in your mood. Although it was slow going and took some time, he saw what was happening and knew this was going to be fun, he's just been waiting for you to prove how deeply 'in love' with him you are.

He's busy working on cutting up a body, having sent you off to do something with Baby while he works when you walk back into his 'studio'. When he notices you, you don't look upset at all, despite a dead body laying dismembered mere feet away from you.

"Baby told me to come back here. I hope you don't mind," You say stepping back into the room and shutting the door. By now he's turned to you, you can see he's covered in blood and guts but you're so unfazed you walk right up to him and straight into a hug, catching him off guard and making him almost shove you off of him. Until you say, "I hope you don't mind me doing this," , blood undoubtedly soaking into your clothes, "I just needed a hug."

This is the tipping point for him. You seeing him actively working on a body he killed and still wanting his affection is enough to tell him that you're fully head over heels 'in love'. He smiles to himself and wraps his arms around you.

"Not at all sugar. Not at all."

Jason Voohees

Jason saw your slow change over time but didn't really see a need to ask you about it. You're becoming more accepting of the fact you're living with him now and you can't leave. Even with these new changes in attitude and you doing what he ask of you, you were still uncomfortable with physical contact.

That was until tonight. It's thundering hard outside as it pours. You've always been scared of severe weather and when you found Jason sitting on his couch you ran into his arms and onto his lap, slightly shaking. Catching him off guard he raises his arms as he looks down at you, looking back up at him with big watery eyes.

"I'm sorry Jason. I just really hate thunder storms. I can get up if you want me to." You begin to stand up when he pulls you back down against him, holding you in his arms now. If he was unsure about you 'loving' him before he knows now that you're truly dependent on him. And some part of his brain likes that. He likes the feeling of knowing you see him as your protector.

He wraps his arms around you tighter and begins to stroke your hair. Things are going to be made so much easier now that you're accepting of his affection.