#or make it clear how important this thing is that he's focusing on instead of wwx. then its just not him

[itsbeenliketenyearsitsprettywild]

mylo vanderskid arcane, when it was actually him and not a hallucination, didn't call powder a jinx from a place of personal insecurity, as at no point in show does he come off as threatened by the skills she does have. he had a valid point obscured by the fact that he was a stupid teenager untrained in the skill of logical debate, alongside a long-burning personal frustration leading him to get mean in the way he framed the subject. post-timeskip, everything about mylo's deeper point about jinx's behavior is proven true in acts 2 and 3 of season 1 as it comes up again and again as something silco himself struggles with in keeping his political grip on zaun. in this essay i

[llycaons]

Lan Zhan's been very busy. The Lan enterprise is opening another branch, but they ran into some rather disastrous difficulties and fixing it takes all of Lan Zhan's time. Wei Ying understands. He gives his boyfriend the needed space. But it has led to weeks and weeks of Wei Ying having dinner all by himself. Watching movies on the sofa, snuggled in the blanket instead of Lan Zhan's arms. Even the sex, which now happens rarely, is quick and more to satisfy each other's physical urges than the emotional need for closeness.

'enterprises' is he a fucking businessman. is lwj neglecting wwx to work on business shit. omg. ngl this entire setup feels like the author is making wwx out to be a neglected stay at home wife whose emotionally distant husband works all the time. doing the dishes, making dinner, associated only with domesticity, crying silently in the kitchen while packing up another meal his busy bf refused to join him for. this is unfortunately a pretty common theme for bad wx works

Done with the dishes, he heads to the bedroom, takes a quick shower and slips into his pyjama bottoms. He brushes his teeth and looks up into the mirror. His face seems pale in the harsh lights of the bathroom, silver eyes reddened.

SILVER EYES. I wonder if I could fill out a bingo board with wx fic cliches with this one

[lxnarphase]

𓇼 FUCK HER, FLIP HER, BEND HER BACKWARDS !

❤︎₊‧⁺...synopsis : the church always says sex for pleasure is a sin, and nanami kento is a man of the lord. but fuck, if his wife isn't worth sinning for. wc: 4.3k

❤₊‧⁺...cw : n. kento x fem!reader, religious themes, traditionalist views on sex and marriage, loss of virginity, missionary to mating press, breeding kink, overstimulation, unprotected sex, nanami loses himself in your pussy, slight cum play, dirty talk

❤₊‧⁺...lunar's note : am i unintentionally coping with religious trauma? possibly but it is fun :33 anyways based of this! forgive me if my writing is a bit rusty, it's been a while but enjoy !!

the two of you have spoken about eventually having children many times, but knowing the steps it took...it kept you both pushing it back, knowing eventually you'd both be ready.

after speaking with doctors, asking for advice from the church, and having you grumble about the neighbors who welcomed a cute baby girl, the two of you figured it was time.

you did your best to act normal all dayl, trying not to seem to nervous or too excited as you went about your chores for the day.

it may just be an act to procreate, but...it's still your first time with nanami. you want it to at least feel special.

there was nothing in the bible that went against that, right?

well, you have plenty of time to overthink since it seems that your dear husband will be at work late. to pass the time, you wait upstairs in your shared bedroom, the TV on as a distraction.

you're so stuck in your own world that you don't even notice him in the doorway before he clears his throat, leaning in the doorway. "oh! hi, honey, welcome home!" you go to stand up, but he holds up a hand, making you stop before you can get up from the bed.

it's silent, aside from the noise from the TV, and you can feel your stomach flip in anticipation.

has...has he always looked that handsome?

he continues to stand by the door, still not making eye contact. "you said it...starts today, correct," nanami questions, focused on undoing the straps of his watch. it shouldn't be attractive, it's such a simple task...yet it has your stomach doing flips as you nod.

"mhm, my, uh...ovulation starts today." it's such a weird thing to say, it just makes everything feel so...clinical. but that's how it's supposed to be, right? those who use sex for pleasure instead of procreation are sinners, or whatever the reverend at the church says.

"mm."

slowly pulling it off, he sets the watch on the dresser before shutting the bedroom door

"good."

dear god in heaven, you think to yourself, struggling to swallow the saliva pooling inside your mouth as he starts to undress. please forgive me for such inappropriate thoughts about my husband.

he removes his suit jacket—black today, it seems—placing it carefully on his desk chair, followed by his cufflinks and tie. his shirt is next, each button popping to reveal his strong, well-maintained physique.

you have to stop yourself from pumping your fist in the air for getting so lucky with such an attractive man as your husband. too busy ogling him like a horny teenager, you miss him undoing his belt before tugging them down and stepping out of his boxers.

once you do realize he's fully undress, you blush hard once he approaches the end of the bed—it took everything out of you not to stare at that...monster hanging between his legs, dear lord—and climbs onto it, making his way to hover over you.

his eyes roam up and down your body, taking in the pretty silky night dress you had on. It’s a soft blue with lacy white trim with little intricate flower designs.

modest, yet sensual.

"this is new," he comments, voice low and sultry. you can't help but wonder if he meant to sound so...so...

you don't find the correct word for it, but this new tone lights a fire in your stomach that has your r thighs squeezing together just a little bit.

"well, i figured it was an important night...you know, finally popping our cherries a-and starting a family?"

it's a weak attempt at humor, your voice clearly giving away your nervousness. you just pray that he ignores it.

a soft hum leaves him, his fingers playing with the intricately designed lace trim. the idea that you want to make this whole ordeal special, that you want to give yourself to him wholly, and that you want to swell with his child...

it pleases him greatly, a small smile touching his lips.

"well, aren't you sweet, my dearest?"

such simple words, yet they relieve so much tension from your shoulders. you can't help but smile back before a little gasp falls from your lips when his hands start to lift the dress up. his hands, they're so big, so hot on your skin.

It's a struggle to remember that this is for the purpose of producing offspring and nothing else, but you try, you try so hard.

but when you hear the hitch in his breath at the realization you didn't have anything else underneath the dress after he pulls it over your head, it's hard to remember.

the thought just about completely leaves your mind at the way nanami, your usually put-together husband, looks so hungrily down at you, a look you've never seen before in those pretty hazel eyes.

his gaze lingers on your body for a moment, mouth opening before shutting instantly, preventing himself from saying something he'd likely regret.

calm down, kento, he reminds himself, taking a second to clear his mind. this is for the purpose of family, not sinful and carnal desires.

even so, he's drinking in the sight of you, unable to stop his hands from rubbing up and down your sides, the soft skin of you, his wife, warming his palms. all his.

"gorgeous," he mumbles, unaware he even said it.

the moment you feel his leaking cock brush against your leg, a thought occurs to you.

neither one of you has a single idea of how to do this.

sure, you both know enough about putting it inside and moving, but that was about it. is there something else you should do? things you should say, places you should touch to aid in the process?

they never explained the actual process of sex in church, and lord knows your mother and father would've keeled over and died instantly if you were to ask them.

'it comes naturally when god deems it your time' the reverend stated once during a sermon. you fight back a frown, realizing that man probably had even less of an idea of how to do it.

however, the feeling of his tip nudging against your slit rips a gasp out of you, bringing you back into the present.

"are you alright? you left me for a bit there," nanami asks, his brow furrowed in worry. if you weren't ready, he was willing to back off. he may want to fulfill this important aspect of marriage, but...not if you don't want it.

"n-no, i'm okay! just...wondering how all of this is going to work out," you softly reassure, giving a weak giggle.

he can't blame you, he isn't very sure either. but as the man of the house and as your husband, he didn't plan on letting you worry. he would do all the work, you just needed to lay there looking so pretty, so soft, so...he realizes he's doing it again, letting his mind wander to places it shouldn't.

"just...j-just relax, we will figure it out as we go along."

with your silent nod, nanami starts to push his hips forward, hissing silently when he realizes the wetness that greets him.

you were this aroused just from...talking?

the thought of scolding you for letting your mind wander crossed his own, but...it would be hypocritical when his cockhead is dribbling precum all over your soft mound.

you choke out a noise of pain when his cock finally notches onto you and starts to push inside. sure, your wetness helped get the tip and the few inches after it inside, but just that is already too much for you, and you're expected to take all of it?!

you do your best not to move, not really sure what you should be doing. you'd be a good wife and bear with the pain if you had to, your nails digging into the pillow under your head as you braced yourself for the rest of his cock.

but this is absolutely unbearable, how do other women bear with this and have 6 or more children?!

a flicker of concern flashes through nanami's eyes at the sound you made, and he stops moving forward. he may be a bit mean sometimes, but he wasn't cruel.

if you both are going to go through with this, he is not going to make you suffer and nor is he going to force you to endure a painful experience.

no true man of god would do such a thing.

"breathe, don't hold it in," he instructs, his voice somehow calm and collected. one of his hands laces with yours, hoping to provide some sort of comfort as his lips brush against your forehead. "i've got you, darling, the pain will pass, just...tell me to stop if it gets too bad. don't hold it in."

giving a soft nod, you try to match his breathing, your body relaxing and making it easier for nanami to slip the rest of himself inside, a near silent sigh escaping him. the tightness and initial resistance that greeted him nearly made him moan, his cock twitching violently inside of you.

something about the physical feeling and knowledge that you saved yourself for him like you promised years before you both got married sent a surge of possession and pride, knowing he has such a loving and faithful wife who is so willing to give herself up to him like this...he can only hope you feel the same knowing he saved himself for you and only you.

so, as a 'reward'—and totally not because he fears you'll strangle his cock off with how tight you are—he's so gracious to you, not moving to let you get used to the stretch and feel of him inside, the room silent except for your matching breathing.

a few moments go by, and you should feel embarrassed when you feel slick drip out of you and down your ass. the realization that your dearest husband, one of the most faithful men of the church, is letting his cock soak inside of your hot cunt makes you whine a little, slick walls fluttering around him.

he's so fucked.

"a-ah...i'm going to move now," he warns, taking your sudden noise as a good sign. nanami shifts his legs just a bit before giving an experimental thrust, his brow furrowing as he slowly finds a rhythm.

the feeling of your hot and gummy walls is absolutely intoxicating, divine, nothing he's ever felt before.

this is what it felt like?

this is what he waited for?

fuck, it felt...it felt so good.

too good.

for you, the pain completely melts away, and you silently thank god and the angels above for giving you a merciful husband who is so kind as to wait for you to loosen up around him.

little do you know, he would rather kill himself than start moving when you're still adjusting to the pain and stretch.

his gentle movements make you all but melt under him, your eyes fluttering at the unbelievable pleasure coursing through your veins.

no wonder your parents preached about saving yourself until marriage, and thank the heavens you listened.

the very thought of feeling this way with anyone but your kento puts a bad taste in your mouth.

meanwhile, nanami chants prayers in his head over and over again as he tries his best to focus on the 'true' purpose for this.

the sticky, wet, and gooey sensation of your plump cunt sucking him, practically weeping each time he pulls out is just unfair.

the poor man, he's fighting so hard to maintain his composure, to not succumb to the base instincts that those soft moans of yours are beginning to stir within him.

"s-shush, darling," he grits out, hips still following his slow, deep pace. "don't...don't make such noises," he all but pleads, voice tinged with a huskiness that betrayed his growing need for you.

“i-i’m sorry! just, it...feels good, y-you feel good, feels s-so good,” you whisper, hands coming up to cover your mouth and stifle those sickeningly sweet noises.

but of course, that isn’t enough because each push and pull of his cock stirs your drooling cunt, filling the room with wet, filthy squelching sounds.

nothing about this is holy, nanami thinks as he grits his teeth, hands fisting in the sheets next to your head.

look at her.

those soft, muffled noises are truly music to his ears, his pace morphing from the slow, deep grind into a faster pace as your soft body gives into the pleasure.

so wet, so damn tight around my cock., like she never wants to let me pull out.

"k-kento, y-you're goin' too deep, i-i can't be quiet, s'too much!"

messy little pussy, 's beggin' for cum, needs it, needs to feel my tip kissin' her cervix as i pump load after load into her womb.

he knows what that little voice is, and no matter how much he wants to claim that it’s the sound of demons pouring their sinful words into his mind, he knows that it's his thoughts, fueled by those dirty little noises that she can't hold back.

how pitiful, how sinful, doesn't she know she's going against all the teachings they've heard preached every weekend in their church?

doesn't she know she's giving into lust?

doesn't she know her pretty sounds are making his dick throb, painting her insides with his hot, gooey precum?

"hush, 'm not going to t-tell you again, you...you need to be quiet," he growls, the command lacking its earlier authority.

nanami also knows lying is a sin, and he's doing a damned lot of it right now as he tries to convince himself that you need to stay silent. after all, this—this is just a process of giving you both a child, just like you wanted, and nothing else.

but he's lying to himself.

he needs you to be quiet or else he'll lose it.

the poor man is barely holding onto his restraint, and these sweet noises pouring from your mouth aren't helping at all.

"y-you make this so difficult sometimes, my dear..." his voice is rough with need and desire, a stark contrast to his usual composed demeanor. "but, by god, you're...you're. absolutely. exquisite."

he punctuates his words with a particularly hard thrust, grinding his hips into you in a way that has the coarse hair on his crotch to rub against your clit. the pleasure it gives you is electric, your legs coming up to squeeze his hips as you try to grind with him.

his words, his simple praise only makes you hiccup his name, crying out louder as your watery eyes roll back as your needy cunt squeezed down on his fat cock.

you're such a sweet thing, trying oh-so hard to mute your sounds. each snap of his hips is all but driving you insane.

“i-i can’t, ken, y-you don’t understand, i-it feels so good, i-i’m so full! you’re pressing against all the good spots, kentoo, i-i love you s' much, b-but i can't!”

be a good fucking husband and do what you were made to, nanami kento.

his teeth dig into his bottom lip, trying to hard to ignore that temptation purring in the back of his mind.

the voice is so much louder now, echoing throughout his mind and muting any prayers or pleads to be mindful of the sanctity of this whole process.

fuck her. give her what she needs, what she deserves.

but it's too fucking hard, he can't his hips are speeding up, his strong hands moving to grip your thighs, unaware of how they start to anchor behind your knees.

breed your pretty little wife and give her a baby like she deserves.

with a deep groan, nanami finally loses all control, fingers digging into your supple thighs to push them to your chest and practically folding you in half.

this new angle has him openly moaning like a dirty whore, allowing him to plunge even deeper into your tight, gummy walls, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with each and every deep thrust.

"k-ken, kenny, k-ken," you sob, tears catching onto your lashes as your entire being is assaulted by the endless pleasure your husband is giving you. he doesn't even look like your kento anymore, his pupils blown so wide that you can barely see the ring of greens and brown of his iris.

"f-fuck. 's all your fault, you know that," he hisses, eyes narrowing as he weakly glares down at you. but you can see the hearts in his eyes as he gives in to the pleasure.

his dark eyes bore down into yours, the wet plap plap plap plap of his hips slamming into yours almost overpowering his voice. "if y-you just stayed quiet like i asked, w-we wouldn't be here."

a little spurt of wet gushes out of you, making his fall forward into the juncture of your neck with a groan at the dirty noise it makes,

"god, i-i can feel it, y'know? can feel this sticky pussy—such a dirty little pussy—makin' such a mess. saved it jus' for me, didn't you, baby? mmhm—fuckin' hell, 's tight—thank you god f' giving me such an angel of a wife." nanami is huffing nonsense against your neck, pounding into you with a force that has the bed creaking loudly.

if you weren't being fucked stupid, you would be worried he was about to break the bed.

"you can keep that pretty mouth of yours shut, b-but you jus' had to have the noisiest little cunt."

he's so mean, but it only serves to make you gush even more, the way juices pour out of you and only make the already filthy noises even nastier.

"she's talkin' to me, baby, y'hear it? i'm...i-i'm gonna breed you," he manages to whine into your ear, pulling away to press his sweaty forehead against yours.

his tongue, so pink and pretty—you want it in your mouth, want to taste it want to feel it against yours—runs over his top lip as he watches drool drip down the corner of your mouth while you nod brainlessly.

nanami's never felt so dirty, so unhinged, but it feels so right, feels so fucking good. he never wants to leave your pussy, never wants to pull out, this is where he belongs, buried deep inside you as his cock pumps load after load right into your tummy, giving you what you need, what you deserve.

"yeah? you want that? i'll give it to you, baby, promise, 'm gonna be a good husband a-and knock you up, gonna make you a mommy."

that has you keening, tears pouring down your cheeks at the pleasure it shoots up your spine. you know you're close, but it's different.

it feels different, feels too much, there's pressure you've never felt before from the few times you'd cave in and play with your puffy, swollen clit in the shower when you waited for nanami to get home from work to kiss you to sleep.

no, you feel like you are about to fucking explode. "ken, i-i can't, 'm gonna—s-something's coming," you try to warn, your hands fisting in his hair as you tug and tug and tug.

the pull of his hair makes him moan like a slut, it sounds so fucking good. his eyes are rolling back before he rushes to comfort you, pressing soft little open-mouthed kisses against your lips.

you don't need to fight it, you just need to give it to him, give him what he needs.

"shh, shh, don' cry, y' look t'pretty, honey. l-let it happen, cum for me, i've got you, angel, cum for me s-so i can fill you up," he coos, his hips growing erratic as he feels your silky walls starting to fluttering around him, feeling you teeter on the edge of release.

he shifts, just barely, just enough to better position himself to fuck deeper into you. but that slight movement has his cock smushing against something soft and spongy that makes you sob, growing softer and more pliant under him, and you know you are done for as all you can do is wail his name.

"please, pretty girl, cum for me, show me how good 'm making you feel, soak my cock, c'mon, you can do it."

with a loud mewl that nearly has nanami soaking your walls in cum, you dig your nails into his biceps as you finally, finally cum. and you're right, it is different, your cute pussy squirting and creaming all over his dick.

the poor man is choking back a whine, eyes wide in shock as your cunt just gushes slick everywhere, clenching around him like a vice as you cum.

your juices are soaking his cock and balls, splattering against his lower abdomen obscenely. the thought of making you do that again crosses his mind for a split moment before the need to fill you up for being so good overpowers any other thought.

not giving you a break, he continues his unforgiving fucking, ignoring your cries and pleads for him to slow down.

"nonono, shh, shh, shush, you can take it," he coos against your lips, no longer caring if this was sinning or not. all he could think about was the constant squeezing and spasming of your poor overstimulated slit that was milking him toward his orgasm.

you try to squirm away, but the way he has you folded in half has you unable to do anything but accept his stupidly deep thrusts that make you swear you can taste his cock in the back of your throat.

"t-tha's it." he's panting, slurring his words, his fingers digging into the fat of your thighs. it’s so wet, so messy now, but he can't find it in himself to care.

no, all he can think about as he looks down at you is how you'll have that angelic glow as you grow round with his baby, and everyone will know you're his, that he knocked you up, he pumped you full of his cum, that you're his you're his you're all fucking his—

"f-fuck, honey, i-i can't..." his hips stutter as he does his best to maintain his rhythm, but his own release is barreling down on him. his heavy balls are drawing up tight as they slap against your ass, your juices still pouring out and soaking all of him.

"'m gonna fill you up, 'm gonna pump this—this sinful little cunt f-full of m'cum, angel, gonna knock you up, gonna have you drippin' with me, g-gonna give you a fuckin' baby, shit—"

with a deep, guttural groan, nanami hisses your name as he buries himself as deep as possible, his hot tip kissing your cervix as thick, hot ropes of his potent cum pour right into your womb, hips grinding into you and giving little thrusts as you milk his cock weakly despite your overstimulation.

it's—it's so much, he's still cumming, how was all of this inside of him? you can practically feel it sloshing around inside of you, and you whimper when you feel it gush out around his now softening cock, dripping down your ass onto the bed.

a moment or two passes, and he sits up, pushing his sweaty hair out of his face and looking down at you.

oh.

you sweet thing, you're an absolute mess. you have tear streaks down your cheeks, your lips swollen from him unknowingly biting them between the little kisses he was giving you, a pretty sheen of sweat on you, and...

his eyes trail lower to where his dick is still nestled inside of you, and it takes everything in him to not accidentally thrust his hips a little bit.

it's a creamy, sticky mess, a mixture of his and your cum seeping out your poor, abused pussy.

"o-oh. sorry, my love. i'm...not quiet sure what happened there. i apologize for such...foul language," he mumurs, his hand stroking your hip. "'s okay," you softly coo back to him, your eyes fluttering shut as you try to catch your breath. "i-i liked it..."

but you quickly learn you've married both a man of god and a curious, insatiable bastard who can't help but drag his cum all over your pussy, quickly finding your clit. and the reaction you give him is one he decides he likes, your hips canting up as your soft, oversensitive walls squeeze around his cock again.

"k-kento, that's nasty!"

all you get in response is a grumbling noise in his chest as it takes you weakly slapping your hands against his chest to get his eyes to snap away from your gooey, creamy pussy.

clearing his throat, he looks down at you, that heated look slowly creeping back onto his face. "perhaps we...we should try once more. just to ensure it takes," he states, doing his best to show some semblance of dominance.

but it's impossible when his hair is sticking to his sweaty forehead, his pupils blown as he gazes down at your panting form like he's about to devour you whole.

"after all, a...a big family is what god wants from man and woman, right? so we...shouldn't delay and keep trying." his hand trails up your side before finding its way to your breast, squeezing the soft flesh.

his thumb experimentally rolled your nipple, and the way your body reacted, a soft gasp of his name...how is he supposed to explain the feeling he's getting in the confessional booth?

"y-yeah," he gulps, leaning his head down. you can feel his hot breath against your tit, and you swear you feel drool drip onto your breast. "w-we'll keep trying. jus' to make sure w-we do what the scripture asks."

may god forgive him for being such a fucking liar and a damned bad one at that.

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[formulamar]

CONTROVERSIALLY YOUNG GF | PROLOGUE

max verstappen x femalereader

680 words

➛ disclaimer ➛

seven year age gap. please do not read if it makes you uncomfortable!!! completely fictional.

When you began to go out with Max Verstappen you anticipated for the news to make the celebrity gossip pages and cause an uproar among his fans. Afterall, it was Max Verstappen – four time world champion - you could hardly believe it yourself!

Miraculously, you and Max dated for six months without any interference from the media. It's not like your relationship was a secret or anything. Like any other couple you went out to the movies and dinned at nice restaurants. But early on in your relationship you discovered Max was a homebody, like you! So as you grew closer most of your time together consisted of hanging out at his apartment or yours watching movies or talking for hours. Still, everyone in your inner circle was astounded at how long you were able to maintain your relationship out of the media's radar.

Once you hit the six-month mark and it became clear to both you and Max that your relationship was serious you had a discussion about how outside discourse from the media would affect your relationship. Although you had only been with Max for six months you had witnessed how invasive fans and the media could be. You constantly saw articles discussing Max's private relationships with his family and his team. Every word, every action, every glance was examined and scrutinized. Max often joked that the more interviews he did the more he wished to move somewhere isolated and live out the rest of his days with you far from the judgment of anyone else. But you knew he loved driving too much to retire so early on in his career even with all of his success.

As always Max was direct, "The media is going to be annoying. They're going to make up the most ridiculous stories you've ever heard. Honestly, the best thing we can do is try ignore them as much as we can." You both agreed, the smartest decision was to take control of the narrative instead of running the risk of having your relationship leaked. So you decided to attend a beginning of the season Redbull event with Max. It was a well documented event and important media figures and photographers would be present. The timing was a bonus. Everyone was focused on the upcoming season and most of their curiosity was concentrated on the new car rather than the personal lives of the drivers. It was a perfect way to debut your relationship to the media.

That night approached quickly, and it would be a lie to say it wasn't one of the most nerve-racking nights of your life. As someone who wasn't famous it was intimidating to be exposed to that world. Luckily, your boyfriend saved you from overthinking. Max was reassuring and attentive the entire night. On the car ride to the event, he made sure to hold your hand and make casual conversation as if it were any other night. He also organized for you guys to enter through the back, away from the paparazzi. Throughout the whole night he barely left your side and when he did he made sure you were comfortable. These small details helped you stay grounded.

Overall, it was a good night. It was nice to finally meet members of the team who had such close bonds with Max. You loved hearing all the stories about Max's victories and his race weekend habits. It was obvious that his team adored him and that only confirmed what you had felt in your heart since the day you first met him -- he was a keeper. You and Max went home confident that you had beaten the media. What could they even say? Max was in a new relationship and he was happy. There was nothing else to it.

Except you made the mistake of glossing over a detail the media would never forget. Before you, Max had only dated women older than him. And you were seven years younger than Max.

The next morning you woke up with a new identity. Max Verstappen's controversially young girlfriend.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌a/n: happy 2025 everyone 🫧 i had this idea… so i decided to go through with posting the first part. i’m thinking writing + social media posts! what do we think??? i’m open to suggestions so don’t be afraid to comment or inbox me!

[deebris]

The Mysterious Visitor 3

Batfamily x batsis (platonic!)

Synopsis: Bruce begins to suspect that Damian is hiding something after the two of you finally see each other, and the father-son trust between them is shaken. Tim finally sees your face, and something strange happens. The meeting between siblings was not successful, and to their dismay, Bruce will need to confront Talia face to face once again.

Warnings: The reader is 13 years old and is Damian's twin sister; the tone of the story is somewhat sad; Bruce is intimidating; Hugo Strange mentioned; family discussion; maternal overprotection.

Word count: 3.6k

Note: I'm sincerely sorry if I didn't include someone on the tag list or if I made any mistakes. This part took longer because it's a bit longer.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

"Forgive me for not offering anything sooner, miss," Alfred said, watching you carefully pick up the hot chocolate he had given to you. He found it curious how you ignored the handle of the mug, instead holding it with both hands, making sure wouldn't spill it.

You diverted your eyes from the brown liquid and looked at the old butler, now knowing his name, licking your lips after the sip to clear the excess drink. "It's okay," you responded, unaware of the chocolate mustache that had formed.

Bruce, still in the room, watched the scene from the side while patiently awaiting Damian. He traced circles with his index finger on the rim of the whiskey glass he had poured for himself, trying to keep control of how much he drank. Bruce would never admit it, but he needed to calm down, and perhaps a bit of moderate alcohol might help. He knew it wasn't appropriate to drink in front of someone as young as you, but he couldn't stop himself.

He was caught looking at you with a suspicious gaze that didn't waver. The room was filled with a palpable discomfort, and you, embarrassed, went back to staring at your own drink again, focused on listening to the crackling of the fireplace.

"Here, take this," Alfred said gently, extending a napkin from the tray. You accepted it and wiped around your mouth, finally realizing you'd made a mess.

Your mother would have scolded you for your lack of manners, you thought to yourself. And, for the thousandth time that night, you worried about how she would react to discovering you weren't in your bed. Maybe she had already noticed and was preparing a furious speech along with your punishment.

"What are you thinking about, dear?" Alfred asked, noticing your quietness as you rested the hot chocolate mug in your lap and started staring into nothing.

You snapped out of your stupor upon hearing the question, fiddling with one of the charms on your bracelet, the "T" specifically, Bruce couldn't help but notice. His mind was in turmoil, much like yours, with a thousand different thoughts arising every second. He felt strangely betrayed, questioning how much more his son hadn't told him—important things like the fact that he had a sister.

"I was just thinking that..." you trailed off, swallowing hard as the nervousness grew. Letting out a shaky sigh and with visible tears forming in your eyes, you continued, "My mom's going to be mad at me."

"And are you afraid of your mother?" Alfred insisted, trying to sound gentle upon seeing your distress.

"It's not quite that," you replied, trying to ease the situation so he wouldn't jump to conclusions.

You weren't exactly afraid of her, but you knew that rummaging through your mother's belongings, stealing a letter, and sneaking out in the middle of the night would disappoint her. You worried about her reaction and, above all, about Damian's reaction. If he was still the same, he certainly wouldn't be happy with the circumstances.

You tried to calm yourself, convincing yourself that you had the right to be angry for the first time in your life, not them, even knowing that your family would see you differently. It was as if you were perpetually a five-year-old in their eyes, always needing to hear lectures about every dangerous step you took.

Even though you and your brother were the same age, he was more responsible, smarter, stronger, destined to be a leader. And it annoyed you so much, but no matter what you said, your mother wouldn't change her mind about your upbringing.

When Damian left, Talia had said he would spend some time in a different place to learn new things and improve himself. For the first few weeks, it was even liberating not having him on your neck all the time, but then you realized it was because of him that you could do simple things like take a walk around the neighborhood alone.

Without Damian at home, your mother had no one to contradict her decisions, and her constant protection began to suffocate you. Then came the longing, and what was supposed to be a few months turned into years, and you never saw him again. You never stopped thinking about him. Every day, every birthday, and every Christmas, you would wait near the entrance of your apartment before going to bed, hoping that he would open the door again.

"Where is your mother?" Bruce suddenly interrupted, feeling Alfred's cautious gaze on him. You hesitated to answer, after all, although Mr. Wayne was a very popular man with a good image, you didn't know him. "I don't intend to harm you, but I need to know to take you back home," he justified, looking directly at your face, but Alfred knew this was Bruce's way of telling him that he wasn't interested in Talia, but rather in ensuring your safety.

"I'm not dumb, I know how to get home by myself," you tried to defend yourself. And though the words might sound arrogant, you said it calmly, not wanting to offend him.

"The point is not that. This is Gotham City, you shouldn't have gone out alone in the middle of the night." Bruce tried to reason with you, and it seemed to have worked because you fell silent.

"You need to trust us, miss," Alfred tried to encourage you to respond, but you remained silent. Bruce turned the glass to take a big sip of his drink and both gave up, not wanting to pressure you further.

The following minutes were silent, interrupted only by the sound of you drinking the hot chocolate in a few sips. Unexpectedly, Titus, Damian's German Shepherd, seemed to have taken a liking to you. He entered the room from the kitchen and stopped by your side to smell the new scent in the house. The relatively gentle dog sniffed around you, appreciating the head pats he received while you were enchanted by the furry animal.

Bruce couldn't help but compare you to his son since he began to analyze you. Damian had his mother's cunning personality and an arrogance that Bruce couldn't deny he had too, but it was more pronounced in Talia. He clearly remembered the first meeting with Damian. The first thing the boy did was make a ridiculous joke about his height, and he never seemed shy when meeting Bruce or the other boys. Also, when he arrived at the mansion, he felt comfortable analyzing every tiny detail of the house, unconcerned if his opinions were unpleasant.

You, on the other hand, although in different circumstances, limited yourself to a small space on the couch, responding only when asked and gladly accepting the kindness of Dick and Alfred. Bruce wondered how Talia could have raised a daughter like you. She and her sister, Nyssa, were sharp women, trained to be natural-born assassins, despite having a traditional father like Ra's. It was hard to believe that you, an apparently ordinary and shy girl, could be her daughter.

"Do you like dogs?" Bruce asked, deciding to stop being grumpy.

"I do, but I think I prefer cats." You continued to stroke Titus's cheeks, who began to want to climb onto your lap. Unfortunately, he was too heavy, and you had to push him back to the floor. The animal seemed to interpret that as a game because he kept trying to climb several times. "Mom gave me one for Christmas last year."

"Titus." Bruce's voice caught the dog's attention, patting his right thigh, calling him to sit on his lap. His gesture, although meant to stop the animal from bothering you, made you a little disappointed that you couldn't pet his soft fur anymore.

"What a coincidence. It seems you and Damian share something in common." Alfred was smiling while talking to you, which was rare for him. "Last Christmas, he also brought us two stray cats. The black one lives with us, but unfortunately, I don't know what happened to the other one. Curiously, the cat has my name." The butler tried to make a face at you, pretending to be unhappy. A Cheshire smile spread across your face, followed by the most contagious laugh he had ever heard, and he couldn't help but widen his own smile.

"The cat's name is Alfred?" You asked incredulously, seeing him nod positively. "Mine is an orange cat. He's cute but very troublesome; he even scratched one of my ballet shoes." You commented, much more at ease in Mr. Wayne's presence.

"An orange kitten?" Bruce's eyes widened slightly, just like Alfred's.

An orange and a black cat, both mentioned on the same date. Your seemingly trivial confession revealed to both of them that Damian had indeed kept in touch with you. Perhaps not directly, but it showed that he hadn't forgotten your existence and cared enough to have given the other cat to his sister as a gift. Now, because of you, they both finally knew what had happened to the other furball.

"Your brother also raises a cow here on the property." The butler thought it would be of interest to mention the funny fact, given that Damian was too irritable to raise something like a cow. And it seemed to have worked, as you laughed with genuine surprise in your eyes.

Bruce couldn't help but let out a muffled laugh when reminded of the cow, and unlike how he had been so suspicious of you moments ago, he was now more relaxed. He wondered when was the last time he saw Alfred so cheerful with someone new here at the mansion. The butler was a man full of tenderness for the family, but he was difficult to deal with for outsiders, although he always presented himself in a polite manner.

But the pleasant moment was suddenly interrupted by a series of voices coming from the top of the stairs, making Bruce and Alfred frown. Both stood up to see better what was happening and saw Damian pushing and shouting at his three brothers while struggling to descend the steps without being hindered by them.

Jason saw that Bruce and Alfred had already noticed them, failing to prevent the boy from confronting you three, and let go of his arm. Dick and Tim followed suit, defeated. The events of the night were revealed to him by his brothers, who told him everything from you being here to the fact that you had had some sort of contact with Strange. Damian went berserk at the last part and stormed out of the room in a flash.

Seeing his son in the Robin uniform, Bruce thought of reprimanding him, knowing he had gone on patrol alone again, but decided that was a matter for later.

"Damian," Bruce called out, calming him down a bit from his excitement. "We have a visitor." There was no view of the stairs from the living room, so you couldn't grasp that Bruce was calling Robin by your brother's name.

Damian descended the steps slowly, as if it were a very difficult task for him, and then finally looked at you, then at Bruce, and back at you, completely ignoring anyone else. He took a deep breath, trying to process the situation. Dick had told him that his father didn't know anything about you being his daughter, but he was sure this secret wouldn't last much longer. And honestly, he preferred that both of you knew the truth, even knowing that his mother wouldn't be happy.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, surprise evident in his voice.

You slowly got up from the couch, gripping the hot chocolate mug tightly. The truth was, Damian hadn't realized he was still dressed as Robin, and that's why you didn't recognize him. You stood there, paralyzed, not understanding why he was in Bruce Wayne's house, and why would he talk to you? Or maybe this was some kind of joke, and you still hadn't figured it out.

Damian was silent for a moment, his expression serious. "You were supposed to stay with Mom. It's not safe for you here."

"Master Damian," Alfred spoke, signaling to the mask on his face. Damian quickly tore it off, feeling stupid for forgetting about it.

You almost let the mug slip when you saw him. Your brother had grown a lot since he was ten. His face was thinner, more defined, and his eyes smaller, plus his voice was deeper. That's why you didn't recognize him at first. Before, you would have known who he was just by the sound of his voice, but it wasn't the same anymore.

You were happy and surprised at the same time. That moment was shocking, and the bitterness you felt a while ago was forgotten. Your anger at discovering Damian ignored you for two years for the people in this house didn't cross your mind now, too busy trying to memorize each of his new features. The superhero world wasn't new, after all, but how could your brother be Robin? And if he was Robin, did he know Batman?

"I wanted to see you," you replied, your voice trembling. "I missed you."

Damian sighed, approaching. He wanted to argue but fought against it, knowing the last thing he should do was yell at you after so long. "I missed you too, but you shouldn't be here, S/n. Things are complicated here." He responded tensely, calculating his words and trying to find a way to get you away from Bruce as quickly as possible before something slipped.

Bruce watched your interaction, unsure of what to do. He didn't understand the depth of your relationship, wondering if he should intervene or let you talk alone. It seemed too personal to discuss in front of so many eyes.

In a brief exchange of glances with Dick, in a kind of silent conversation, Bruce signaled for him and the others to leave.

Understanding as always, Dick nodded, indicating they should leave but not before approaching Bruce with something. "Bruce, promise me you'll only read this card when you're in a clearer state of mind," he asked in a whisper, placing a piece of paper in Bruce's hand, careful to put the written part facing his palm. Dick rarely asked for promises, so Bruce reluctantly agreed.

"Can you at least tell me what it is?"

"It's a clue about Hugo Strange," was the simplest response he could give. "But let's leave that for another time," Dick emphasized, looking at you and Damian, who, to their surprise, were watching them.

"Let's go. This is no longer our business," Dick tried to pull Jason and Tim along, but Tim was stubborn:

"Did you give it to him?" Tim said just loud enough for Dick to hear.

"Yes, Tim," he replied, not wanting to give him more room to argue, going up the stairs two steps at a time, followed by Jason who climbed more calmly, holding onto the railing. Tim gave one last look at Bruce, then at Damian, Alfred, and then you, who was now watching the three. You already knew Dick, but the other two figures aroused your curiosity. How many more people live in the mansion?

The boy you didn't know was called Tim started staring at you with an intrigued expression. He hadn't managed to see your face closely before, but now, looking calmly, he couldn't avoid noticing how familiar you seemed. He felt he had seen you somewhere, but where? You examined him with the same perplexity, and for a moment he parted his lips to say something, maybe to ask if he knew you, but Bruce's voice made him jump:

"Tim, you should go to bed, just like your brothers." He asked in a gentle tone.

"Sorry, Bruce." He responded quickly, going up the stairs in same style as Jason.

"Do you have any idea how long I've been looking for you?" Damian took advantage of the fact that the three had left and angrily threw it in your face, but trying to disguise it at all costs to avoid sounding too harsh. His eyes were frantic, looking at every part of your face.

He wasn't sentimental, and he refused to go through the humiliation of showing any weakness at seeing your grown-up figure, even if it caused him heartache. "Why did you disappear like that? Mom's been worried for hours."

"I already told you. I wanted to see you." Your voice rose a bit, desperately trying to justify yourself. You wanted so much to hug him but felt too embarrassed to do so, finally realizing that the intimacy you had before no longer existed. It was as if he were a stranger.

"Let's go. I'll take you back." He grabbed your wrist, wanting to disappear from his father's sight at all costs, but you pulled away, surprising him.

"Why are you so eager to get rid of me?" You asked indignantly, trying to swallow the sob due to your wounded pride. The warmth in your heart rose to your head, finally feeling that old anger again. "I haven't seen you in years, and the first thing you do is want to keep me away again!" You were distressed, feeling rejected.

"Maybe it's because you only cause problems!" He exploded.

"I had forgotten how irritating you are!" You shouted at the top of your lungs, trying to push him back as you did in childhood arguments. Back then, you two were equal in strength, but now Damian was becoming a man, and he barely moved.

You didn't notice when you dropped the mug on the floor, which luckily didn't break as the impact was cushioned by the rug. But the little liquid left had spilled and stained it, and seeing Alfred pick it up to clean made you feel awful. You should have done it, but he stopped you when you made a move to bend down, saying it was okay. Alfred felt he shouldn't participate in this conversation and used the mug situation as an excuse to go to the kitchen.

"Stop." Bruce intervened between you two, separating both and giving his son a challenging look. He knew this kind of attitude was typical of him, but seeing how loyal and obedient Damian was to Talia, he thought he would at least show some sympathy to his sister. "S/n, why don't you go sleep a bit? It's late, it would be good to rest." He offered as a truce and also as a way to interrupt your meeting, seeing how bad it was going.

"Do you realize the danger she got into? Talking to strangers, no less." Damian spoke again, his voice dangerously calm, ignoring Bruce. "Do you have any idea who that guy was, S/n? Do you have any idea?!" His voice began to rise a few octaves.

A solitary tear rolled down your cheek, recalling the man who had helped you on the street. At that moment, he seemed like a good person, but the way your brother was talking, apparently he wasn't. "How many times do we need to tell you not to talk to strangers? Not to leave the house without telling anyone? It's always been like this since we were kids, you never change!"

You had no reaction. That single tear had turned into two, then into several others, as you shrank into your own shame. You felt ridiculous for coming here because of him.

"Damian, who are you talking about?" Bruce held him by the shoulders to stop him from continuing to spew anger at you. His voice was much deeper than the boy's, and although it didn't intimidate him, it was enough to make him look at him at least.

"Hugo Strange, Dad! Damn Hugo Strange!" Damian lost control of his own mouth, speaking without thinking and not realizing the slip he had just made. "Because she's too stupid to have the slightest notion about anything!"

"Hugo Strange?" Mr. Wayne asked out loud. You knew exactly who Strange was, just as you knew other villains, although you might not recognize them by appearance. But that didn't matter to you now, as you spoke right after:

"Why did you call him Dad?" You looked your brother in the eyes, expecting some kind of explanation, not noticing how his body hairs stood on end.

Suddenly, a realization hit you. This was his new family now, and this man was his father. That venomous jealousy returned once more, and you didn't know if it was because Damian now had someone to call 'Dad' or because it meant how close he had become to these people. Damian swallowed hard, sweating and standing still like a statue.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne. I didn't mean to cause trouble." You apologized, deciding to completely ignore Damian from now on.

"No need to apologize." Bruce felt uneasy, and like you, he drew a wrong interpretation from it. He thought Damian hadn't told his sister who his real father was, which was possible considering he also hadn't told her he moved in with him. The fact that you two were twins was also still unknown to Bruce. The most logical idea, though not spoken or thought, was that you were Talia's daughter with another man. "I'll ask Alfred to show you a room."

You looked one last time at Damian before disappearing into some wing of the mansion. It hurt to see him watching you leave without even saying goodbye. A 'good night' would have been hopeful, even though you hated him now.

"Come, miss." You felt Alfred's hands on your back, guiding you. "I'll show you the guest room," he explained, and you looked back, seeing Bruce watching the two of you.

"Thank you, Mr. Wayne," you said, trying to sound as grateful as possible, while wrapping one arm around Alfred's waist affectionately. Bruce gave you a slight smile, uncrossing his arms to wave goodbye, which you returned with your free hand.

"You and I now have a lot to talk about." Bruce's aura had become cold again. The trust he had built with Damian wasn't broken, but it definitely had a crack.

"Mom is coming," he said in a low voice "I called her as soon as Dick started told me everything," he confessed, knowing Bruce would be furious, watching him run a hand through his hair to relieve the tension.

Following his example, Damian also sat in one of the armchairs in the room, analyzing his father's movements. Whenever Talia and Bruce were in the same room, even if they didn't do it openly, they fought for some kind of dominance.

Bruce made a move to take out the card Dick had given him to see its contents and maybe pass the time while the second storm of the night was yet to come. The first had been you, of course. He ran his fingers along one of the edges of the card, without taking it completely out of his pocket, and then remembered his son's words:

'Promise me you'll only read this card when you're in a moment of clarity.'

The last thing Bruce had now was clarity. So he sighed heavily and pushed it back into his pocket, staring at the boy beside him. "Why do I feel like your sister should be a secret, Damian?"

Tag list:

@lafrone @sylum @mileskisser @belowbreadcrumbs @riddle-me-im-sirius

@rafa-the-beautiful @shehrazadekey @fairuzwhat @bedeater @arianapjs

@idonthaveanameforthisacc @azulawayne @nciolisa @lovelywritersgarden

@spideybv28 @faimmm @formula-space @cherry-peach-flavored

@godknows-shetried @randomrosie01 @whatsupstark @paastaboi @m3ntally-unstable

@masterradd-28 @justanormalpersin @6000-fandoms @fennecspage

@homan-oid @fluffy-strawberries @animegirlfromvietnam @tamsyien @ari-sama21

@kataraluvr @boatempollstriper @lokisgoodboy @enjisthings @thereeallink

@lumalesa-kadichizho @fyodorssimp1 @shintax-error @lara20aral @sulatsadark

@notahappystan @nebuluma

Credits for the divider: @cafekitsune

[wrioluvr]

subby vampire x dom male reader pt 2 pt 1

thank u guys for liking kliff!! he's so baby. felt kinda mean and thought about a scenario where reader is like, a regular monster fucker and poor kliff finds out he hooked up with another vampire and gets super jealous teehee... but this is wholesome tho.

content: reader is kind of a player, blowjob (reader receiving), reader loves tormenting the poor old man, more plot-focused than pure smut

★ ; 🦇🍷. . ♱

after visiting kliff at his crumbling manor a few more times, you decided that you were getting tired of making the trip out into the woods everytime, and invited him over to your house instead, an invitation he eagerly accepted. though he kept a calm composure, inwardly, his thoughts were running wild - he would finally be able to bask in a whole home full of your scent.... maybe even steal a few small trinkets he could toy with whenever he felt lonely... or... or even get a feel of your bed, where he fantasised about waking up next to you and spending the rest of his days as your faithful househusband. oh, how delightful.

"thank you ever so much for allowing me to enter your abode. i am most honoured." thanking you profusely, he elegantly sat down on your sofa, only to immediately scrunch up his face in discomfort. you stared at him, puzzled. "what's wrong? you don't like my home?"

"no, no... it's not that... it's just that... this scent is so familiar. in an unnverving way..." he mumbled, talking to himself. suddenly, a look of recognition, mixed with horror, dawned on his face. "correct me if i'm wrong, but... there's not a chance you've had another vampire over.... is there?"

"oh! i forgot you vampires have a heightened sense of smell. yeah, i hooked up with another vampire like, 3 weeks ago." you said nonchantly, like it was the most insignificant thing ever. kliff merely gaped at you, aghast at your casualness. "so... so... i'm not your first vampire relationship?" he asked meekly, almost like he was afraid of the answer.

"well, yes. i dated, hmm...." you start to list them on your fingers. "two vampires, one werewolf, one merman... oh, right, and one evil ass fairy. he was mean."

poor kliff looked like he was about to collapse, his hand clutching his chest dramatically. thankfully he was sitting down, otherwise he would have fallen over. "where on earth do you even find these creatures?"

"i get around."

"and you never thought to mention this?!"

"i mean, i didn't really think it was important..."

kliff sighed, suddenly feeling a little insecure at his complete lack of romantic experience in contrast to your many flings. "may i at least see what your past vampire suitors looked like?" he didn't want to admit it, but he was suddenly feeling very clingy, even more than usual. he had to be better than all your exes! so that you wouldn't leave him like you left them!

"sure. here you go." you pull out your phone and show him a picture, only for kliff to gasp loudly and clutch his chest even tighter. what a drama queen.

"HIM."

"you know him??"

"that little whore was going around sleeping with every man and woman in town a hundred years ago! i cannot BELIEVE he is still so promiscuous in this day and age. he even seduced you..."

"woah! language, kliff!"

kliff stops mid-ramble and clears his throat in embarassment. "my apologies. this is most uncouth of me. i do not know why i am getting so frustrated over this. the two of you are not seeing each other anymore, correct?"

"yes. you're the only one i'm seeing right now."

"and, if i may be so bold to inquire,,,, how was he like as a lover?"

"he was kinda annoying." kilff let a smirk escape his lips upon hearing this. "i knew it-" "the head was good though."

"what- what does 'head' mean?"

"he sucked my dick." you say bluntly.

"oh, good heavens."

"don't be a prude! wait... kliff, are you jealous of him?"

"i most certainly am not."

"at your big age? please be serious." you tease, amused at how possessive he suddenly got.

"do NOT make fun of me. i said i'm not." the pout adorning his face said otherwise.

kliff barely noticed it, but slowly he inched closer and closer to you, eyes scanning your neck as he frantically searched for bite marks.

"did he bite you anywhere? did it hurt? you must know, i would never even consider drinking from you, right?" he took your hand, eyes searching desperately for validation, any form of praise that indicated you thought he was the better vampire.

you rolled your eyes. "jeez, kliff. i didn't take you for the possessive type. don't worry, none of my previous vampire lovers have drunk from me."

that did little to reassure him, since he was on the same page. "then... then... i must be better at this 'head' thing!" he declares, face full of misplaced determination. you almost double over laughing.

"it's not a competition! my god, you're so unserious."

"it does not matter to me! i must be better than that lustful shame of a vampire at every aspect. especially since we are of the same species."

"okay, okay. calm down. i'll let you try."

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

"just let me know you can't breathe or whatever. i'll guide you through your first time, yeah?" kliff nods, a blush extremely prominent on his undead features as he knelt between your thighs. he quite enjoyed this... submissive position.

"also- watch the fangs." the authoritative, yet gentle tone of your voice sent shivers down his spine.

he himself could be considered a monster, but he paled in comparison to the monster that sprung out of your pants once he clumsily undid the zipper. kliff gasped, a look of pure lust and nervousness written all over his expression as your slightly erect cock hovered over his face.

"so... basically... you just put it inside your mouth, then start sucking it. easy enough, right? come on, don't tell me you've never heard of a blowjob in your entire existence."

"of course i have..... i admit, i own quite a bit of... erotic fiction." he mumbles, eyes still on your cock, cheeks growing redder by the second. "but, goodness, it's so different seeing a real phallus up close. especially one of your size."

"phallus??? just say cock."

"mhm...." he hesitates, unsure where to even begin. flustered, he looks up imploringly, silently begging for you to guide him.

you chuckle at his frozen state, completely at a loss on what to do. "so needy. i'll help you."

tenderly, you run a hand through his soft hair, applying just a little bit of power to tug his head forward, guiding him to your tip. obediently, he opened his mouth, taking the shaft inside. it was warm, his rough tongue grazing over your tip, causing you to grip his hair a little tighter. kliff let out a masochistic moan in response. slowly, he ventured further down your length, but unable to reach the base without gagging. he looked up at you with apologetic eyes, but you squeezed his shoulder to let him know he was doing well. "good job, kliff. you're a natural." spurred on by your praise, kliff found a lewd rhythm, mouth bobbing up and down in a continuous passionate attempt to make you feel good.

your small grunts of pleasure kept him going. panting, you ask, "you sure you've never done this before, kliff? you're so good." he frantically shakes his head, mouth still full of cock, as if the idea that he engaged in such intimate acts with anyone but you was horrifying. he was loyal like that. it was intoxicating, the head only vampires could provide - fangs lightly grazing your cock's sensitive areas, the slight thrill unmatched. merman head was sloppy, werewolf head was rough, but vampire head was a little dangerous. you liked that.

soon enough, you were about to cum. you warned him, patting his shoulder twice, he vigorously nodded, giving you permission to cum inside his mouth. he'd only ever been used to having blood in his mouth, so having your cum inside instead was a new experience. but he liked it. maybe a little too much, as he swallowed it so enthusiastically. you gazed upon him affectionately, finding his virgin excitement over such lewd matters endearing.

"how was i?" the breathless question hung in the air, a reminder of the atmosphere thick with your intertwined tension.

cupping his face with one hand, the other stroking his hair soothingly, you muttered the words he most wanted to hear. "you were better than him."

kliff jumps into your arms, nuzzling his face into your shoulder. "thank you. you're the absolute best." he's so content to spend the rest of his days with you. treat him with care, yeah?

>ᵥᵥ< 💘

tags: @4eaever @szapizzapanda @flyingsquids @vampmasc

omg i'm so happy with this one, one of my fav writings i've ever done so far. i felt like i characterised kliff and captured their dynamic quite well here hehehe

[cowboybeepboop]

Release

"Don't worry...I'll give you what you need baby.."

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem! Reader 

Genre: Smut

Word count: 3.3k

Summary: Your friendly coworker Clark takes care of your needs. 

a/n: As always I hope you enjoy and send any requests you might have my way!

Clark is your annoyingly perfect coworker, you know the type: always on time, always right, never makes a single mistake, and never has a hair out of place, let alone a stained shirt.

Your irritation grows as you rub the coffee stain from your white button-down, thoughts filled with the idea that you’ll find him at his desk, right next to yours looking as *perfect* as ever. 

It's been one thing after the next, first, you saw your long-time boyfriend cheating on you in YOUR apartment with your best friend, then some dumbass hit your car completely totaling it which leaves you taking the subway every morning attempting to be on time yet you always seem to arrive just five minutes late, and now your stupid shirt. Your favorite shirt. 

It’s silly to think you’re fighting back tears over a $15 button-down when you didn’t even react to seeing the two most important people in your life raw dogging it on your sheets. Taking deep breaths you adjust your hair, flattening it down, and blinking away the tears that threaten to spill. At least you’re slightly on time, even if it meant leaving home 30 minutes before you'd usually even wake up.

Finally, you give up on the stain coming to terms with the fact that a slight brown tinge is better than being late *again*. You slip into your chair with a quiet huff, pinching the bridge of your nose as you gaze at the clock on the wall. Glancing to your side you see Clark, he's 15 minutes early, smelling like heaven, he looks sleek as always, without a single hair out of place. 

Clark catches you looking at him as you huff and puff next to him, he tries not to chuckle at the frown on your face before he turns to you, friendly and unassuming as usual, completely oblivious to any issues you may have. He smiles his signature warm and charming smile.

"Good morning, you're here on time today, finally," he teases, his tone light and innocent, not realizing his words sound like a veiled jab when they fall from his lips.

You turn to him, eyes narrowed in an intense glare. "Mind your own business, Kent." You grumble, your usual (fake) friendliness gone like your ex-boyfriend. Focusing on the computer in front of you, you log on, scrolling through the endless emails.

Clark blinks awkwardly at your response, surprised by the harshness in your voice. He’s not quite used to you snapping at him, sure you have your moments but you’re rarely outright hostile.

He sits back, running a hand through his hair and rubbing the back of his neck, slightly perplexed about how to respond.

Clark hesitates for a moment, debating whether to address your change in tone. Clearing his throat, he tries to keep his tone lighthearted. "Um…is everything okay? You seem a bit, uh…”

He trails off, realizing that nothing he says will help his case and that you may actually bite his head off if he continues. So he shifts slightly in his chair instead, averting his eyes from yours as he pretends to focus on something on his computer.

"Look, Clark." You sigh, turning to him once again, tone much softer this time, "I don't need your pity, there's no need to pretend like you care." you slip out of your chair, heading to the break room to grab another coffee. 

Clark raises an eyebrow at your words, his lips curving into a slight frown as he watches you go. He waits a few moments before silently following you, his steps almost soundless as he approaches you at the coffee machine.

He stands behind you, his presence quiet and calm, as he studies your expression before speaking.

"Who said anything about pretending?" He asks, his voice low and earnest.

You're standing on your tippy toes, attempting to reach the coffee on the top shelf of the cabinet. "Why would you care about me and my problems? We're *just* coworkers." 

Clark swallows, feeling a pang of disappointment in his chest at your dismissive words. He leans against the counter beside you, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he contemplates how to respond.

"Just coworkers..." he mutters softly before sighing quietly, "Right."

He watches you struggle to reach the coffee for a moment, his hands twitching in his pockets as he resists the urge to reach out and grab it for you.

Clark can't tear his eyes away from the way your body stretches and extends with every effort to reach the coffee, the muscles in your thighs and backside taut and prominent as you stand on your tippy toes. It's an unconscious and innocent action, but it's affecting him more than he'd like to admit...

He clears his throat again, shifting his weight and trying to control the thoughts that begin to flood his mind. But as he watches you struggle once more, his restraint is slowly but surely beginning to fray.

"I'm sorry," you sigh, finally managing to grasp the coffee grounds. "I didn't mean it like that Clark." once back on flat feet, you look at him with a gentle expression. 

The tension drains from Clark's shoulders as he hears your apology, his gaze softening as he looks down at you. He manages a small smile, the corners of his lips tugging upwards slightly. 

"It's okay," he replies quietly. "I understand. You've clearly got a lot on your plate."

He can't help the way his eyes wander over your figure again, lingering on the way your body moves and molds with each movement. The words "I care" hang on his tongue, but he swallows them back down.

Once the machine starts brewing you lean against the counter, crossing your arms under your breasts as you let out a small strangled sigh. "I didn't mean to snap at you either. I've just got a lot going on.." 

Clark's eyes track your movement, watching as you rest against the counter. His eyes seem to linger on the way your arms press against your chest before he manages to force his gaze back up to your face, his cheeks flushing from the heat that spreads through him.

"It's okay," he says again, offering a reassuring smile. "You don't have to explain yourself. I..I get it."

He hesitates for a moment, mulling over his next question before finally swallowing and asking, "Anything I can help with?"

"Not unless you're willing to beat up my ex-boyfriend for me," you chuckle dryly, eyes focused on the empty office. Being the two newest employees you're stuck with the early early morning shift. 

Clark lets out a small, surprised laugh, the sound rich and warm. He leans back against the counter, mirroring your position as he grins at you. 

"Tempting," he admits, his voice tinged with a hint of mischief. "But I think I'd rather help in more...legal ways."

You smile, finding his presence comforting and relaxing, finally putting your restless mind at ease. Your bare thigh brushes over his as you turn to grab a mug, the fabric of your skirt lifting up ever so slightly. "Well, I'll let you know if I can think of anything you can help me with." 

The contact sends a jolt of electricity through Clark's veins, his breath catching in his throat as he feels your skin brush against his. He attempts to keep his reaction discreet, but the way his eyes widen slightly betrays his composure.

He swallows, his mind racing as his gaze drifts down to the exposed flesh of your thigh, the smooth skin on display making his thoughts whirl and pulse. 

"Yes... Please, let me know," he manages to mutter, his voice thick with an undertone he hadn't intended.

"Want some?" you hold out the mug to him, noticing the way his gaze is trained on your legs, a slight flush creeping up your neck. 

Clark is snapped out of his reverie as you hold the mug out to him, his eyes flicking up to yours for a moment before darting down to the mug in your hand again.

He clears his throat and reaches out, his fingers brushing against yours as he takes the mug. The contact sends another spark of electricity through his body, his cheeks flushing slightly as he quickly averts his eyes.

"Uh...yes, thank you," he stutters, trying to disguise the nerves in his voice.

You notice his strange demeanor, eyebrows furrowing as you fill your cup. "Now it's my turn to ask if everything is alright," keeping your tone playful, you gaze up at him softly. 

Clark swallows again, his heart thudding against his chest. He shifts awkwardly on his feet as you question him, his mind racing to find a believable excuse, but failing miserably.

The way you look up at him with such soft, concerned eyes is making it even harder to maintain his composure.

"Uh...yeah, I'm fine," he stammers, forcing a smile. "Just...uh...just a bit tired, that's all."

"And here I thought you were always on the top of your game." you tease softly, reaching to put the coffee back up, sneakily adjusting your skirt so it reveals more of your body. 

Clark watches you strain to reach the high shelf, a wave of guilt washing over him as he realizes he should have helped you get it down in the first place. He steps closer, his body now mere inches away from yours, his chest almost touching your back.

He reaches up and grabs the coffee, his arm brushing against yours in the process. The proximity is enough to send another shiver down his spine. He places the coffee back on the shelf before turning to you, his voice softer this time. "Next time, just ask for my help."

"Clark.." you breathe out his name, shocked by the electricity his touch fills you with. "I, uh, could've put it back myself you know."

Clark freezes, his heart skipping a beat at the sound of his name slipping from your lips. He could swear he was imagining the way you breathed his name, the way it sounded almost like...like a gasp.

He lets out a small huff, his lips curving into a half-smile. "I know," he says quietly, his eyes fixed on yours. "But I wanted to help."

"Mhm..." you murmur, gaze trained on his muscular body as heat rises in your cheeks. Your heart pounds in your chest, something about the way he touched you makes you heated. 

Clark's chest tightens as he registers the way your eyes rake over his frame, his skin burning in the wake of your gaze as you take him in. He swallows, the sound seeming louder than normal to his heightened senses.

The subtle shift in your breathing, the hint of flustered color adorning your cheeks, the heat radiating from your body... all of it feeds into the growing tension between you two.

"Clark," you step closer to him, gathering all the confidence you can. "There is *something* you could do to help me..." 

Clark's heart thuds harder, the closeness of your body almost intoxicating as he feels heat begin to pool in his gut. He inhales sharply, the scent of you clouding his senses as he struggles to focus on your words.

His voice is low and gruff when he responds, barely a whisper, "Anything."

"I want.." you take a steadying breath, "I want you." you press your fingers into his side, pulling his body closer to yours.

Clark's breath hitches as he feels your fingers press into his side, a shudder coursing through him as you pull his body against yours. He lets out a soft, involuntary moan as he feels the heat of your body against his, every nerve in his body on fire with need.

He looks down at you, his eyes wide and dilated, the last few remnants of restraint finally giving in. "Christ..." he mutters under his breath.

"There’s no one here right now," You bite on your bottom lip, knee sliding between his legs as you press against his groin. 

Clark lets out a hiss, his breath hitching once more as he feels the heat and friction of your body press against his. The unexpected sensation of your knee between his legs sends a jolt of pleasure through him, his hips involuntarily bucking against you as he fights to keep control. 

His voice is a low, ragged growl as he responds, "You're not playing fair.."

"I'm not.." you murmur, fingers moving to unbutton his slacks, "I never play fair," 

Clark's eyes widen in surprise as he feels your fingers on his slacks, his body frozen as he watches you undo them, freeing his erection from the confines of his clothes. The feel of your touch, the implication behind your actions, is driving him crazy. 

He lets out a strangled moan, his breath ragged and irregular. "This...this isn't...we shouldn't be doing this here," he stammers, his voice lacking conviction as his eyes remain fixed on your hands.

"Exactly... That's what makes it so," you press a kiss to his jaw, "exhilarating" 

The feeling of your lips against his jaw is enough to send Clark over the edge, any shred of restraint he had left evaporating into thin air. 

He lets out a breathless growl, the sound thick and heavy with desire, as his hands reach out to grip your hips. His grasp is firm, the strength in his hands evident as he pulls you even closer to him, his body flush against yours. 

"You...you're killing me.." he groans, the heat pooling in his stomach almost unbearable.

Clark's mind is reeling, the sensation of your smooth skin under his touch driving him crazy as he lifts you onto the counter, his movements surprisingly precise and controlled despite the whirlwind of desire coursing through him. 

As he pushes your skirt up, revealing your bare thighs, he lets out a low, guttural sound, his eyes fixed on the sight of your body in front of him. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this..." he murmurs huskily, his voice strained with desperate need.

“Clark, please… I need you,” you whine, body aching with months of unfulfilled desire. Your ex never quite knew how to use those 4 inches. 

Clark's breath hitches, his heart thudding in his chest as he hears the pleading tone in your voice, the sound nearly breaking him in an instant. It's doing something to him, to his ego and his emotions.

He leans in, his lips against your ear as he whispers, "Don't worry...I'll give you what you need baby.." he spreads your legs, pulling you to the edge of the counter, pressing his tip against your aching cunt. 

Your face contorts in pleasure, the gentleness of his touch, the desire behind his eyes, and the idea of being caught, all of it is working to make you ache even more.

He slowly slides into you, moaning as your pussy stretches around his thickness. Clark keeps his thrusts slow, gently working his way deeper inside you, and your nails immediately dig into his shoulders. 

“Fuck, fuck,” you’re intoxicated by his touch, “mm so big.” you moan needily, hole clenching around him. He groans, large hands moving across your frame as he finally bottoms out, his tip hitting the pleasure point in you. 

“Is this okay?” He cups your face, pressing soft kisses to your lips as he gives you time to adjust. 

Clark’s question hangs in the air as you both pant and tremble from the intensity of the moment. You nod fervently, your eyes never leaving him, the silent communication speaking volumes of your need. He takes that as his cue, his gentle touch turning to one of urgency as he begins to move within you. 

His strokes are deep and deliberate, each one hitting that spot that has you clinging to him tighter, your moans growing louder with every passing second. The office around you fades away as you become lost in the sensation, your mind racing with the illicit thrill of doing something so taboo with your coworker. 

His kisses become more passionate, his tongue claiming your mouth as he picks up the pace, the sound of your skin slapping against his echoing in the quiet space. The tension between you two has been building for months, a dance of wills and glances, and now it’s all culminating in this desperate, passionate embrace. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, your heels digging into his firm ass, urging him deeper with every thrust. The break room becomes a cocoon of passion, the only sounds are your muffled cries of pleasure and his grunts of effort. 

The friction between you builds a delicious pressure that demands release. You can feel him swell within you, his need matching yours. Your breaths become gasps, and your eyes widen as the first waves of orgasm crash through your body, tightening around him. "Clark...I'm gonna..." you manage to breathe, your voice shaking.

Clark's eyes darken with desire as he feels your orgasm approaching, his own need reaching its peak. He increases his rhythm, driving into you with a passion that surprises even him. "Cum for me," he whispers, his voice thick with need. 

The sound of your impending climax is his undoing, and he lets out a guttural groan as he joins you, his hips bucking against yours as he fills you with his release. 

The aftermath is a haze of heavy breathing and racing hearts, the realization of what you've just done slowly sinking in. You cling to him, your bodies still connected as the tremors of pleasure subside. 

Clark's heart is still racing, his body shaking from the intensity of the moment, as he gazes at you, his fingers tracing gently across your face. He's silent, his breath ragged and labored, as he absorbs the enormity of what just happened. 

The silence between you is thick and heavy, filled with the weight of what you both just did. Clark's eyes flicker between yours, a mixture of concern and wonder in his expression. Finally, he speaks, his voice rough and low. "Are you..are you okay?"

"More than okay," you murmur, dazed and utterly satisfied. "You're so good, Clark." you slide off the counter, standing on shakey legs.

Clark helps you steady yourself, his strong arms wrapped around your waist to support you as you make your way to the bathroom. He can't help but chuckle softly at your unsteady legs, a mixture of pride and amusement filling him. 

Once you're both freshened up and presentable, he walks you back to your desks, his hand resting gently on the small of your back the entire way. 

"Are you feeling better now?" he asks, his voice now smug, his eyes searching your face.

"Much, much better." you grin satisfied by his disheveled appearance. The perfect Clark Kent is barely able to concentrate on his work, his hair is slightly frizzy and out of place, and his shirt is wrinkled, all of it makes your stomach pool with warmth once more.

Clark can't help but chuckle at your satisfied grin, his cheeks flaring with a hint of blush as he realizes the state he's in. He reaches up to straighten his hair, only making it more tousled in the process. 

He catches sight of his wrinkled shirt and wrinkled and he lets out a low sigh, shaking his head with a mixture of amusement and embarrassment. "I look like a complete mess, don't I?" he says, a sheepish grin on his lips.

"A perfect mess," your tone is light, eyes full of admiration.

[chaos-in-deepspace]

LADS Sylus: Sweet Night | SFW

Am I entering a Sylus era? No, no I'm not. I just love them all and got this idea real fast and needed to quickly type it out.

Pairings: Sylus x Reader Warnings: None Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Sylus

Whenever he goes to bed, you're just waking up, and whenever it's time for you to go to bed, he's already drinking his morning coffee in the kitchen. It was one of the few things you absolutely despised about your schedules. Just once, you wanted to fall asleep in his arms.

Sylus could see it on your face as you were pouting, heading towards the bedroom. You didn't even know when you came to just casually sleep at his place almost every night, but it was part of your routine now.

"Sweetie, what's wrong?" he asked, noticing how you seemed to be sulking as you turned to him. How did you even voice what you wanted? It wasn't like he could help it, in the end. His meetings took place late evening and at night, while your work started early in the day.

He noticed the hesitation as he walked over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into him, "Come on, you can tell me." he coaxed, his words sweet and gentle in your ears, a tone reserved only for you.

You let out a sigh, looking up at him, "I just...do you think sometime we can...go to bed together. And wake up together?" you decided a direct approach was always best with Sylus. He was accommodating to you all the time, as long as you spoke what was on your mind.

He hummed, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your temple, "Is that all you wanted?" he murmured against you, "Then how about...next week? I can clear my schedule then, and we can have a day, start to finish." he settled on, making your heart soar.

"You'd do that for me?" you asked, feeling so content in the moment as he hummed, the sound vibrating against you.

"It's not like you're asking for much, sweetie, honestly you could've asked for far more and I'd still go along with it." he said and you chuckled.

"I'll hold you to that, then." you said, reaching an arm up to drag him down for a quick kiss.

You felt like that week dragged on, your entire mind only focusing on your plans for Friday night. Getting off work and immediately heading towards the N109 zone. You were exhausted beyond belief, but the comforting feeing of walking into the familiar Onychinous base made you feel at ease.

Instead of seeing Sylus in his robe, sipping on coffee while going through his phone, you saw him still fully dressed from his day. He had a sweet smile as he beckoned you closer.

A warm shower, soft words, and finally, finally, the soft embrace of his bed. HIs arms wrapped securely around you as you pressed your face into his neck, your hand over his chest so you could feel his heartbeat. Even still, it ran wild, but that too was oddly calming for you now.

He squeezed you closer to him, and he looked just as exhausted as you were, "Did you pull an all dayer for this?" you teased him, your voice coming out softer now as he looked at you and smirked.

"Obviously," he murmured, "I wouldn't be able to sleep if I was working off my normal schedule." he said, pinching your side and making you squirm closer to him until you were hooking a leg around his.

You were silent for a moment as you thought things over, "I...thank you for doing this for me." you finally said, pressing a kiss to the wide expanse of his chest that you could reach from your angle.

"It's not much, you shouldn't praise someone doing the bare minimum, darling," he said, "Raise your standards."

"My standards are already incredibly high thanks to you, sir," you scoffed playfully. His face was pressed into your hair now, and you could feel him smiling against you.

"That's how it should be...besides, this seemed important to you. You seemed stressed last week about the whole ordeal." he pointed out and you blinked for a moment, processing his words. You didn't realize you had shown that many signs of it bothering you, but Sylus did have a tendency to be able to read you like an open book.

"Ya, I guess I was..." you said, "I just," the words were embarrassing to admit, "Tara had talked about how nice it was to fall asleep and wake up in the arms of her current boyfriend, and I felt a bit envious over it. I thought that wouldn't be possible for us."

Sylus hummed, "If you want, I can put more of an effort into laying with you until you fall asleep, and coming back before you wake up." he commented.

"What if I wake up in the middle of the night?"

"Then call me, and I'll come back," he said, "Now hush, we're both tired, and need sleep. As much as I enjoy our little talk, you had a long day, didn't you?" he asked and you hummed.

"I assume Mephisto was reporting about my work day?"

"He always does," Sylus said, "Now sleep, I promise, for at least tonight, even if you wake up in the middle of the night, I'll still be here."

"Alright, goodnight Sylus."

"Goodnight, sweetie."

[hsnlv]

lean on me | y.jw

pairing: bf!jungwon x reader

synopsis: you’ve always been independent, never needing anyone’s help. but jungwon makes you see that letting someone in doesn’t make you weaker—it just means you don’t have to face everything alone.

wc: 1.6k

here’s my masterlist!

you had always been independent. it wasn’t something you chose—it was ingrained in you from childhood. your parents weren’t neglectful, but they believed it was important for you to know how to handle things on your own. “it’ll be easier for you in the future,” they said.

and they were right. you grew up mastering the art of self-sufficiency, from fixing broken appliances to managing life’s curveballs. but this independence wasn’t always welcomed, especially in relationships. most of your ex-boyfriends had found it off-putting. they wanted to feel needed, to swoop in as the “man of the house.” but you hated that mindset.

so when you met jungwon, you thought it would be the same. but jungwon? he was different.

“babe.”

his voice startled you out of your focused trance. you glanced up to see him crouching next to you, his curious eyes scanning the scattered pieces of wood and screws on the floor.

“what are you doing?” he asked, though it was clear.

“building a bookshelf,” you replied casually, flipping through the manual perched on your lap.

jungwon reached over and took the manual from you, his eyes skimming over the instructions. then he plopped down beside you, sitting cross-legged like a mirror image.

“you could’ve asked me for help, y’know,” he said, looking at you pointedly.

you shook your head, brushing him off. “it’s fine, uwon. i’ve got it.”

but truthfully, the bookshelf was turning out to be a bigger challenge than you anticipated. the pieces were awkward to fit, and the instructions might as well have been written in hieroglyphics. you didn’t want to admit it, but you were struggling.

jungwon noticed, of course. setting the manual down, he cupped your cheeks with both hands, gently squishing them so your gaze was locked on his. his thumbs rubbed soft circles against your skin, his dimples making a brief but stern appearance.

“angel,” he started, his voice calm yet firm. “can you, for once, just lean on me?”

your lips parted, but no words came out.

“i love that you’re independent,” he continued, his tone softening. “it’s one of the things i admire most about you. but sometimes… i want to take care of you too. not because i think you need me to. but because i want to.”

you blinked, feeling a lump form in your throat. you weren’t used to this—someone asking to share your burdens instead of trying to take control.

“you know what would be even more attractive than your independence?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

you shook your head, playing dumb even though you knew what he was getting at.

“if you let me be your boyfriend instead of just some random guy you live with,” he teased, his voice laced with warmth and just a hint of desperation.

his words struck a chord deep inside you. it wasn’t that you didn’t trust jungwon—you did, with all your heart. but letting someone help you, letting someone in, wasn’t something that came easily after years of being your own rock.

“baby,” he called again, softer this time. “let’s try this together, hm?”

he dropped his hands and picked up the manual, his fingers tracing the steps with deliberate care. you watched as he began organizing the pieces, his focus steady yet unhurried.

“fine,” you muttered, a small smile tugging at your lips. “but only because this bookshelf is impossible.”

jungwon glanced up, grinning like he’d won the lottery. “impossible for you, maybe. not for us.”

and just like that, the two of you worked side by side.

——————————

later that evening, the bookshelf stood proudly in the corner of your room, and you found yourself curled up on the couch with jungwon. your head rested on his chest, his steady heartbeat soothing you as his fingers lazily played with your hair.

“see? this isn’t so bad, is it?” he asked, tilting his head to look at you.

you traced little shapes on his shirt with your finger, a soft smile forming on your lips. “no. it’s… nice, actually.”

he chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. “told you. letting me help doesn’t make you any less strong. it just makes me feel like your actual boyfriend instead of your roommate-slash-cheerleader.”

you rolled your eyes, nudging him lightly. “you’re so dramatic.”

“oh, i’m dramatic?” he feigned offense, his dimples peeking out as he grinned. “this coming from the girl who wrestled a bookshelf just to prove a point.”

“hey, that bookshelf was—” you started to argue, but jungwon cut you off by leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

“shh, angel,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours. “you’re cute when you’re flustered, but you’re even cuter when you admit I’m right.”

you groaned, hiding your face in his chest, but he only laughed, wrapping his arms around you tighter.

“thank you, uwon,” you murmured, your voice muffled against him.

“for what?” he asked, tilting his head in curiosity.

“for being patient with me. and… for building the bookshelf.”

jungwon grinned, pulling you back just enough to cup your cheeks. “you’re welcome. but, angel?”

“yeah?”

“next time you need to build something—or anything, really—just call me, okay? i’ll be your knight in shining armor, or at least a guy with a really good screwdriver.”

you laughed, your heart feeling light in a way it hadn’t in a long time. “deal. but don’t let it go to your head.”

“too late,” he teased, leaning down to steal another kiss. “you already think I’m the best.”

and honestly? you kind of did. because with jungwon, you didn’t just feel cared for—you felt loved, completely and utterly. and that was better than anything you’d ever built on your own.

© all rights reserved | hsnlv 2024

[sweetimpurity]

*ೃ༄ day 12! time is flying! question: is anyone dressing up for halloween/what are you gonna be? 💖 wc: 1.5k *ೃ༄

“Hmph…” You flop over on the sofa, scrolling on your phone has become boring too. Your head craning uncomfortably on the armrest and glaring at the door down the hall. He’s been in his office for most of today working. Always on the phone or doing important things. It’s like you barely get to see him even when he’s home all day. Even when you wanted to have lunch with him, he got a call halfway through and had to go back to his multiple screens. You guess that’s just the life of a CEO. Always in meetings. Always with someone wanting his time. Guess you’re on that list too, but you want his time for other reasons. Other activities. 

You also notice how serious he’s been the past few weeks. Maybe there’s some big deal going on or something but you can tell it’s stressing him out. And he needs a break. He can’t even break to catch the new episode of the show you’ve both been watching. Instead you have to sleepily give him a rundown of what happened in the episode when you’re both in bed. But he’s beyond exhausted by that point, half asleep already and can hardly remember it in the morning. When will it ever end? 

You get up from the couch, walking down the hall to his door. Pressing your ear to the glass and listening. Hearing his deep delicious voice on the other side. Muffled so you can’t make out the words but you can hear the tone and timbre. Mmm…

You sigh, letting the mischievous and responsible parts of your mind battle. Should you bother him or let him keep working? Well it would hardly be bothering him if you’re kissing him or massaging his tense shoulders, you think. You just want to be near him. 

Carefully, quietly, you push the door open. The little swish of the hinges moving open. Peeking in and seeing his broad back, sitting at his desk. The dress shirt stretched tight over his shoulder blades. He always dresses so nice even when he’s working from home. Makes sense since he has lots of international video and holograph calls that he has to make. He’s on the phone…

“Yes, I think we can do that… well it depends on his schedule, if he wants this done within the next quarter or sometime after that… I’d have to talk with our West Coast offices and check in there…” 

His voice is so deep and sexy. Even when he’s talking about boring stuff. He does glance back, he does hear the door open. Seeing you coming into his office. A welcome surprise but this is a call he can’t just hang up. Through his peripherals he can see you looking at a few things on the shelves, looking out the window. Smiling a bit to himself. It’s clear you’re just in here to be in here. But focusing back on his work.

“I can check on our end and see what sort of output we’re expecting for the next year. It’ll all depend on the market and competition in the area as always… just-just hold on one minute, Bill… okay…” He turns to you, a hand over the receiver, whispering. “Do you need something, baby?” He asks softly. 

You look over at him, tucking your hands into the sleeves of your hoodie. Shaking your head and smiling at him, not getting the hint to leave. “No…” 

He smiles. He doesn’t want to tell you to go. But it does distract him when you’re here and he’s trying to focus. “Okay.” He whispers, conceding and going back to his phone call. “Yeah, Bill I’m here…” 

You’re frustrated. Thinking to yourself, what would it take for him to hang that phone up right now and give you his attention? All of it. Thinking and watching the side of his face as he talks. The bridge of his nose, how his dark eyebrows move when he’s talking, his tongue dancing along his lip when he’s listening to the other end, waiting for his turn to speak. What would it take?

You start by easing your slippers off. Stepping out of them, your socked feet on the chilly floor. Then pulling your arms out of your hoodie. One arm out then the next. Lifting the material over your head and off. 

“I think that sounds reasonable, we can definitely do something like that…” He continues… not looking your way.

The next to go is your shirt, pulling your arms out of the short sleeves and maneuvering it off of your body. The sun through the window glowing on your skin. Practically making you sparkle and shine. He keeps talking on the phone, his head down in notes. Seriously, nothing? 

The next thing to go is your pants. The yoga pants you’ve been lounging around in all day. Bending down and pushing them down. Letting them pool at your feet on the floor and stepping out of them. Flailing your feet around to get the material to fall off. Almost all your skin showing now. 

Finally. Finally! He looks over. Doing a double take, eyes raking you up and down, looking at you over his hand cupping his chin in thought. “Mhm…” He hums into the phone. Eyes on your thighs, your tummy. All the way down and then up. “Yes…”

You’ve got some of his attention now. Turning around and showing off your ass. In that underwear he bought you. It’s not lingerie but it’s cottony and soft and he loves you in it. “Uh yeah…” He blinks, turning back and trying to focus on his notes. On the call. 

Damn it. So close. 

You sigh. Nothing. 

Sigh again. Sighing louder so you know he can hear you. “Hahhh…” Crossing your arms. And he finally looks over again. A pleading look in his eyes. Gesturing to the phone by his ear. Leaning back in his seat and listening to the other end. “Yeah well I’ll talk to the assistants there and have that… arranged when the time comes…” 

You smile. Knowing you’ve got him on the line. Now to reel him in. Your hands go back, gripping the clasps of your bra. And he sits up straighter. Shaking his head at you. His look turning to warning. 

You pout at him, undoing the clasps and your breasts fall a bit lower and more free. Cupping the material over your tits and pulling the straps down. The only thing holding it up is under your control. “No…” He mouths, shaking his head and waving his finger dismissively. Like scolding a child. A child who’s being naughty and knows she is. He looks away again and you stomp your foot on the floor with a thud. Like an angry bunny. He instantly looks back. Now you’re being a brat. Swiveling in his seat and his eyes narrowing at you.

“Yeah, Bill, whatever your team decides, we’ll combine it with our quarterly summary and present it to the shareholders for the meeting…” He says. Teeth clenched and he doesn’t even realize. His words are going through the phone but his tone is going right to you. Scolding you indirectly for your behavior. 

That look in his eyes, the way he’s getting all riled up. You let go, letting your bra fall to the floor. Tits bouncing naturally down. Perked from the excitement and anticipation. Smiling at him. 

He’s not looking at your face anymore, that’s for sure. Swallowing hard and finding it hard to remember anything that Bill guy is saying. “I-I’m sorry can you repeat that, I think the line got... cut off…”

You decide to put on a show. Pressing your boobs up and together in your hands, your arms over your head and swaying from side to side letting them ungulate for him. “Mhm…” He hums, leaning forward in his seat and thoroughly entertained. The words in his ear are long forgotten when he’s watching you like this. Almost naked and so pretty. Your plush tummy and hips spilling over your curves, love handles begging to be squeezed and caressed, tits perfect and round and he can imagine holding them in his hand, how perfectly they fit. How perfect everything about you is.  

The last to go is your underwear. Bending down and pushing them down in one motion. Kicking them off and turning around. Bare ass and naked in front of him. In front of the window too. The sun beating down on your perfect skin like a spotlight on your convincing performance. “Baby, come on....” He whispers, features quirked, pinching the bridge of his nose and forcing himself to try and look away, knowing that Bill can probably hear him. Pleading and begging with his eyes. 

“Are you gonna fuck me or what?” You turn around, bending over and giving him a look at the candy between your thighs. Laughing and looking up at him through your legs. 

And he’s springing out of his seat. Pressure in his work pants straining against the zipper. Finishing up with his call real quick. It’s surprising how easy it is. Just needed the right bait. 

“Alright Bill well I got a call waiting, I’ll email you the reports and we can talk next week… okay thanks… yeah thanks… okay bye.” The phone hits the desk, sliding across his papers and notes and he’s crossing the distance to you as soon as he can. Scooping you up, thick strong arms around your waist from behind and carrying you out the door. Pulling a squeal of surprise from your throat and giggles all the way down the hall.

 “That was real cute, baby…” He huffs, shaking his head, kicking the bedroom door open. “Real cute…” 

Taglist!! love my sweeties!

@spooky-sculder

@slushycoookie @xxyaoi-nationxx @snails-doodles22 @scaryplanetdestroyer @fate13

@divorcepaperz @yeahnohoneybye @zaunsin @tomalymme @drefear

@mrs-pondwater19 @saintdiior @aphinthestars @hyjionie

@palomanh @maxad99 @muuuwoppppp @reader-1290

if you'd like to be added/dropped from the taglist, please comment on my masterlist post. Or else I might not see it! thank you! 🩷

[wintfleur]

Hiii! Could you do 🪷 “placing kisses on your lovers shoulder and nape as they are bent down, trying to focus on their work though they're very hot and bothered” for will smith

౨ৎ irresistible

﹕─┈ pairings ( Will smith x female! reader )

°. — summary ( will’s supposed to be studying, but he can’t focus on anything but you . . . it’s not his fault his girl is so irresistible )

°. — details ( g; fluff, slightly suggestive. w; suggestive actions, but no smut, heated makeout. wc; 1.2k)

﹕─┈ prompt ~ placing kisses on your lovers shoulder and nape as they are bent down, trying to focus on their work though they're very hot and bothered

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( ahhh will !!! Tysm for sending in a request, so sorry it took so long for me to get out, I absolutely loved writing this !!! I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you guys think )

+ could be read as a part 2 to this or just as a standalone.

1k celly masterlist main masterlist nhl masterlist

Saturday mornings were for cuddling, sweet nothings whispered into each other's ears, messy hair and slow kisses, and of course making pancakes that left your kitchen a mess in its wake. Well for will they were, and don't get me wrong you loved those types of Saturdays.

But for you as of late, your Saturdays were waking up early, kissing your still sleeping boyfriend's forehead, throwing on some sweats and a hoodie, strong coffee, and studying for hours in the quiet library knowing that you wouldn't be bothered. But this Saturday was different, instead of going to the library alone, your sweet boyfriend decided to join you. 

He swore that he would help you study since he felt bad for distracting you the other day during class, he knows how important your academics are to you. He promised to be on his best behavior . . . and he really really tried too. But he couldn't help but have his mind wander as he watched study. 

Between the cute pout on your lips as you focused, the way you absentmindedly bit on the top of your pen as you read the large textbook in front of you, and the way he got a perfect view of your cleavage as you leaned forward to write, made him impatient, restless. His mind clouded with thoughts he shouldn't be having in a library. But what can he say, you were just so irresistible. 

“Will” you whisper his name in a warning tone when you felt his hand slip under your shirt, your eyes not leaving your notebook that was filled with your notes, pastel highlighter covered words and little doodles on the sides of the pages. Will did not pause his wandering hand, softly caressing your lower back, his gaze on your side profile. 

“C’mon no one is around” he whispered as he moved closer to you, tilting his body to the side as he sat next to you, your knees brushing up against each other. The soft lingering touch making his want for you, stronger. Will's eyes quickly dart around the dimly lit corner of the library they sat at, no one in sight. They were in their own little world. 

You look up from your books and to will when you hear the desperateness in his tone, ever since you woke him up this morning, soft kisses on the side of his face as you gently ran your fingers through his messy hair, he's been clingy, only wanting your touch and attention. Two things he wasn't getting as you studied hard, his own books and homework long forgotten. 

You could see the desire in his eyes, a look you knew well. Will’s fingers dipped into the waistband of your panties, teasingly tracing the skin under it, sending goosebumps in its wake. 

You swallow hard and ignore the feeling of desire stirring in your stomach, you had to focus, you weren't going to let your needy boyfriend distract you again. You clear your throat and look away from a now smirking will (he could read you so well) And turn your focus back on your textbook “I only have a few chapters left.” 

Will pouts and stops his hand from going lower when you turn your attention back to your studies. He pulls his hand away from your lower back and rests his arm on the back of your chair as he watches you move your hair to your other shoulder, giving him a perfect view of your neck and nape. Your movement gives him a good whiff of your perfume he loved so much. 

Will quickly looks around and smiles triumphantly when he sees that they are still alone and out of sight. He leans forward in his seat and closer to you, his arm on the back of your chair dropping down to wrap around you as he leans down, his chest pressed against your side. 

You try to focus on the words in front of you, but you couldn't focus on anything but the way your boyfriend was pressed up against you, his body warmth spreading over you. Will's lips twitch up into a smirk when he sees you falter, leaning down to place a soft kiss on your shoulder, leaving a trail of wet kisses across your shoulder and up to your nape. Your eyes flutter close as the feeling of his soft lips on your warm skin, a small gasp leaving your parted lips. 

A sharp gasp escapes your lips and your eyes quickly open when you feel his hot mouth part, his tongue teasingly swiping against your burning skin. Will leans back in his chair, a chuckle leaving his lips as you quickly stand up and move away his touch, a familiar warmth and desire spreading across your body. Wills eyes darken as he watches your eyes drop to his legs where he was manspreading, softly biting your lip at the sight before quickly looking up to his eyes, stuttering out “I’m going to go get another book.” 

You didn't wait for a response before you were turning on your heels and making your way towards the history section of the library, thankfully it was close to where the two of you were sitting. You let out a heavy breath and bring your hand to your nape, softly rubbing the hot skin as your eyes dart over the books on the long shelfs. 

You knew what he was doing, and he was doing it well, so you had to get out of there before it was too late and you fell to his charms and touch . . . you were so close to just letting him take you back to your dorm. You stop at the right section and your eyes rake over the long shelf, looking for the right book that you need. 

You only notice your boyfriend who followed you when you felt his hands on your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. You tilt your head to the side to give him more room, will hums in appreciation and places a kiss to your pulse point, your breath hitching at the bruising kiss.

 “Will,” you whispered breathlessly. 

A needy groan leaves his lips as he hears you say his name so prettily, and he doesn't wait another second before he is pulling back and quickly turning you around, softly pushing you back against the bookshelf, a gasp of surprise leaving your lips at the sudden change of position. His eyes twinkled with mischief as he looked down at you, the desire in your eyes matching his. 

He can't wait anymore, the way you looked up at him, the desire in your eyes, the way your chest raised in fall as you breathe heavy, your pretty lips parted, you looked irresistible. Will quickly surged forward, and your noses softly knocked against each other as he took your lips in a passionate kiss. 

You slid your hand up his side and up his back before tangling it into his hair at his nape, the kiss only heating up as he pressed his body flush against you, your touch sending chills down his spine. A whine leaves your lips as he moves his knee between your thighs, will eagerly slips his tongue into your mouth, his hands traveling your body as if he didn't have every inch of your body memorized. 

The kiss only gets hotter as gasps and moans leave both of your lips, you found yourself absentmindedly bucking against his knee. You reluctantly pulled away from the kiss, needing air and not wanting to be caught in a heated makeout with your boyfriend. Pants leaving your lips as you whispered needily. 

“My dorm or yours?” 

°. — taglist ( @cixrosie @toasttt11 @lovings4turn x )

[thagomizersshow]

Apes are a kind of monkey, and that's ok

This is a pet peeve of mine in sci comm ESPECIALLY because many well respected scientific institutions are insistent about apes and monkeys being separate things, despite how it's been established for nearly a century that apes are just a specific kind of monkey.

Nearly every zoo I've visited that houses apes has a sign somewhere like the one below that explains the supposed distinction between the two groups, focusing on anatomy instead of phylogeny.

(Every time I see a graphic like this I age ten years) Movies even do this, especially when they want to sound credible. Take this scene from Rise of the Planet of the Apes:

This guy Franklin is presented as the authority on apes in this scene, and he treats James Franco calling a chimpanzee a monkey like it's insulting.

But when you actually look at a primate family tree, you can see that apes are on the same branch as Old World monkeys, while New World monkeys branched off much earlier.

(I'm assuming bushbabies are included as "lorises" here?)

To put it simply, that means you and I are more closely related to a baboon than a baboon is to a capuchin.

Either the definition of monkey includes apes OR we can keep using an anatomical definition and Barbary macaques get to be an ape because they're tailless.

"I've got no tails on me!"

SO

Why did all this happen? Why did we start insisting apes are monkeys, especially considering the two words were pretty much interchangeable for centuries? Well I've got one word for ya...

This the attitude that puts humans on a pedestal over other life on Earth. That there are intrinsically important features of humanity, and other living things are simply stepping stones in that direction.

At the dawn of evolutionary study, anthropocentrism was enforced by using a model called evolutionary grades. And boy howdy do I hate evolutionary grades.

Basically, a grade is a way of defining a group of animals by using anatomical "complexity". It's the idea that evolution has milestones of importance that, once reached, makes an organism into a new kind of thing. You can almost think of it like evolutionary levels. An animal "levels up" once it gains a certain trait deemed "complex".

You can probably see the issue here; that complexity is an ephemeral idea defined through subjectivity, rather than based off anything truly observable. What makes walking on 2 legs more complex than walking on four? How are tails less complex than no tails? "Complexity" in this context is unmeasurable, therefore it is unscientific. That's why evolutionary grades suck and I never want to look at one.

For primates, this meant once some of them lost their tails, grew bigger brains, and started brachiating instead of leaping, they simply "leveled up" and became apes. Despite the early recognition that apes were simply a branch of the Old World monkey family tree (1785!), the idea of grades took precedent over the phylogenetic link.

In the early years of primatology, humans were even seen as a grade "above" apes, related but separated by our upright stance and supposed far greater intelligence (this was before other apes were recognized tool users).

It wasn't until the goddamn 1970s that it was recognized all great apes should be included in the clade Hominidae alongside humanity. This was a major shift in thinking, and required not just science, but the public, to recognize just how close we are to other living species. It seems like this change has, thankfully, happened and most institutions and science respecting folks have accepted this fact. Those who don't accept it tend to have a lot more issues with science than only accepting humans as apes.

And now, we come to the current problem. Why is there a persistent idea that monkeys and apes are separate?

I want to make it clear I don't believe there was a conscious movement at play here. I think there's a lot of things going on, but there isn't some anti-monkey lobby that is hiding the truth. I think the problem is more complicated and deals with how human brains and human culture often struggle to do too many changes at once.

Now, I haven't seen any studies on this topic, so everything I say going forward is based on my own experience of how people react to learning apes (and therefore, humans) are monkeys.

First off, there is a lot of mental rearranging you have to do to accept humans as monkeys. First you, gotta accept humans as apes, then you have to stop thinking in grades and look at the family tree. Then you have to accept that apes are on the Old World monkey branch, separate from the New World monkeys.

That's a lot of steps, and I've seen science-minded zoo educators struggle with that much mental rearranging. And even while they accept this to an extent, they often find it even harder to communicate these ideas to the public.

I think this is a big reason why zoos and museums often push this idea the hardest. Convincing the public humans are apes is already a challenge, teaching them that all apes are monkeys at the same time might seem impossible.

I believe the other big reason people cling to the "apes-aren't-monkeys" idea is that it still allows for that extra bit of comforting anthropocentrism. Think of it this way; anthropocentrism puts humans on a pedestal. When you learn that humans are apes, you can either remove the pedestal and place humans with other animals, OR, you can place the apes up on the pedestal with humanity. For those that have an anthropocentric worldview, it can actually be easier to "uplift" the apes than ditch the pedestal.

Too make things worse, monkeys are such a symbol of a "primitive" animal nature that many can't accept raising them to the "level" of humanity, but removing the pedestal altogether is equally painful. So they hold tight to an outdated idea despite all the evidence. This is why there's often offense taken when an ape is called a monkey. It's tantamount to someone calling you a monkey, and that's too much of a challenge to anthropocentrism.

Personally, I think recognizing myself as a monkey is wonderful. Non-ape monkeys are as "complex" as any ape. They make tools, they have dynamic social groups, they're adapted to a wide range of environments, AND they have the best hair of all primates.

I think we should be honored to be considered one of them.

[chironshorseass]

ok i really really really enjoyed watching the first two episodes and i think the show is already so faithful to the books in ways the movies wished they were BUT i’m gonna be a bitch just because i can and rant about a few insignificant but at the same time very important Things the writers didn’t Understand:

percy is angry.

and i know this is seen with his anger towards poseidon in the show, but i’m talking angry. as in, generally speaking. when he’s with grover and they’re talking about nancy, percy says something along the lines of “we should fight back,” and grover’s like “noooo we can’t stand up to bullies.” and then percy stands up to her and blah blah blah…but in the books percy’s first line is “i’m going to kill her” after she throws a sandwich at grover. grover talks him out of it because he’s already on probation.

with just this scene we know percy stands up to bullies, and that’s partly why he has so much trouble at school! in the show, he stands up to nancy, apparently for the first time, and gets kicked out because of it! sorry but as someone who worked in a school, i know for a fact that kids can get away with so much more before they’re actually kicked out lol. it would’ve made sense, like in tlt, that he’s already at risk of suspension so him “pushing” nancy is the final straw. it’s just very weird, considering it could be only a line of dialogue that makes percy’s anger and the connection between his outburst and him getting kicked out more clear.

consequently, percy arrives at his appartment and gabe is just a general (still admittedly abusive) jerk instead of a drunk, violent (also abusive) man. when we meet gabe, it makes a lot of sense why percy has so much trouble with his anger. it’s easy to see that connection. literal child + alcoholic abusive father figure = there’s bound to be some trouble….that’s not really the case in the show, especially in the way that sally easily stands up to him. people have said a fair bit about this topic already, so i’m not gonna expand on that, but i really wish the writers had focused more on percy’s internal anger, as it’s such an important part of his character and affects the way he reacts to things throughout the books; it just worries me that in the first episode it wasn’t as established. i. e. he hates dionysus on sight because he reminds him of smelly gabe, he hates the gods—is angry at poseidon—because, where was he when my mom and i were suffering at the hands of smelly gabe? ok i’m not gonna talk about more of this or of sally because other people have said it and i could write a four page essay of what the show got wrong plus i want to talk abt other things before this gets too long:

the monster scenes.

the mrs. dodds being a fury reveal felt sooo…weird? even the movie version did it better lol. it felt super rushed and strange how percy’s just standing there and the next he’s on the ground, but he had riptide with him so he just impaled her and then she turned to dust??? in the books, not only does she get percy alone, but grover tries to stand up to her—which is a big deal since he knows what she truly is and shows how much he cares for percy in that moment. percy has time to be genuinely terrified bc he’s alone with a literal monster and he’s about to die…and chiron throws him riptide just in time, but then he too vanishes so percy’s left wondering if he imagined everything. but no, in the show mrs. dodds comes out of nowhere and attacks him, and it’s so fast that percy doesn’t have time to dwell on wtf happened. the situation doesn’t seem as serious as it does in the book; in the book she tries to interrogate percy bc she thinks he’s the lightning thief, and when she doesn’t get her answer, she attacks him. this is another thing: the stakes. they don’t feel as high in the show because there’s no annabeth trying to ask percy what was stolen, no hellhound, no fates cutting a string, and no alecto/mrs. dodds interrogation. there’s not much of a lead up to the quest, really.

theeen the minotaur scene, which also feels super weirdly paced and there’s just not that same sense of urgency. again, other people have talked about this, so i’ll just stick to another main concern of mine: grover’s role in the scene. it was so strange how in the book he’s semi unconscious and in the show he’s fine (so fine that sally does something completely out of character and makes grover swear to keep percy safe? she would never put that much pressure in a child???) ok so he seems fine in the show, but then when they’re running percy’s holding him as if he can’t walk???? they’re not even fully sprinting, given that a monster is chasing them lol. (the problem with the stakes; i mean with the way they run and have an entire talk with sally makes it feel like they’re not in any real danger).

back to grover: he was perfectly fine, and he got percy back safe. not at all like in tlt, where percy has to practically carry him back, after loosing his mom and killing the minotaur. THEN percy passes out and later wakes up at the big house. this is important, bc grover’s entire THING is being percy’s protector, and he couldn’t do that properly bc he was indisposed. he felt awful. of course he did. his character arc is overcoming the guilt and insecurities—that he’s not a proper protector and therefore can’t search for pan; his main character motivation—by successfully completing the quest and helping percy retrieve the master bolt.

these are just little seeds that needed to be planted in the first two episodes of the show…so that the rest of the show feels cohesive and makes sense with what happens in tlt. if these character traits and scenes are looked over and not given proper importance/not replaced with something similar, then the show will have a different tone than it does to the books. i don’t think it’s necessarily bad, but it is disappointing that the details sprinkled in the source material are lost in translation. they may have seemed insignificant to the writers, but not to meeee!!!!!!

[otakusheep15]

Flufftober Day 31: Proposal - Pomefiore

Characters included: Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt, Epel Felmier

Word count; 1980

Vil

Who proposes: Vil

Vil was convinced from a very early age that he would never have a normal relationship. He’s always been in the public eye, and he was always scared of making friends because they always got dragged into unnecessary drama. He very quickly leadered to distance himself from others. 

But you just had to come into his life. Stubborn, loveable you who just wouldn’t leave him alone no matter how much he pretended to be disinterested in you. It was no wonder he fell for you eventually. How could he not? You broke down pretty much all of his walls almost immediately, but instead of feeling vulnerable, he felt safe. 

From then on, he kept you strictly by his side. People certainly tried to pry into your relationship as you slowly became more public, but Vil is always always quick to shoot down any attempts. Eventually, most people simply gave up because Vil was giving them absolutely nothing, and neither were you. 

Domestic life became nice to Vil. He never thought he would have something like this. So many celebrities before him struggled with too much information being shared to the world, ruining their seemingly happy relationship. Vil assumed this would be the case for him, but that day never came. Your relationship stayed strong even through the worst of times. 

Then came the thoughts of marriage. Was he ready for such a thing? His acting and modeling careers are both going strong still, and you’re focused on your own pursuits. Is marriage the best idea right now? Of course, he’d like to get married at some point, but right now?

As it turns out, yes, the time would be right now. Vil, while working on a job, came across the most stunning ring he’s ever seen in his life. He knew then and there that it was a sign, and he bought it immediately. Ring now in his possession, Vil began working on how he should propose. 

The natural option would be taking you out to a nice restaurant, but would you want something so public? Would he want something so public? Paparazzi and the general public would probably ruin the moment for you, and that would not be ideal. 

He settles on doing a simple proposal away from the public eye. Perhaps he can take you out for a celebratory dinner after you say yes. Of course you’re going to say yes. You love him and he loves you, so he’s sure you’ll say yes.

Vil returns to your home, holding the box in the pocket of his coat. You greet him as always, and just seeing you is enough to relax his thoughts. He’s overthinking this far too much. He’s not usually so impulsive, but seeing you here in your shared home, all of his thoughts clear out, and all that’s left is for him to propose. 

You’re sitting on the couch, so Vil sits down next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to him. He pulls out the box, drawing your attention to it. He opens it with his free hand and presents the ring inside, leaving you shocked as you stare at him in awe. 

He explains himself and his thought process. How he’s not usually this impulsive, how he saw the perfect ring and just knew it had to be yours, and just how much he loves you and wants to marry you. 

You say yes, taking the ring out of the box and putting it on, leaning up to kiss him. In this moment, Vil’s thoughts are calm. All he can think about is how lucky he is to have you. 

Your wedding is shockingly simple. Not shocking for either of you, but shocking for most others. The general public always tends to assume that, the more famous the person, the grander the wedding. However, Vil wanted to keep it simple, if still elegant and classy. The guest list is small, limited to the most important people in each of your lives. Unlike some celebrities, this wedding is not about the scale or the content. It’s about Vil’s undying love for you. 

Rook

Who proposes: Rook

Rook has always been into romance. He was a very fanciful kid growing up, always daydreaming about the perfect romance. Even as he got older, those fantasies never quite went away. If anything, they simply evolved with him, growing more developed as he experienced the world around him. 

When he met you, Rook knew his dreams had officially become reality. You are right out of his fantasies, everything he has ever wanted in a person. He pursues you almost immediately, doing his best to woo you as you get closer. 

Eventually, you do end up dating him, and Rook is living the dream. Every day feels so special and beautiful because he has you by his side. He does his best to shower you with romance as often as possible, always giving you compliments and giving you plenty of attention. 

Marriage is something he’s always wanted. The thought of binding your soul with the person you love more than anything else is the ultimate form of romance for him. Being with you only solidified that desire. 

He’s been planning his proposal to you since you first began dating. An entire speech has been written, a ring has been chosen and purchased, and all he needs to do is simply pop the question. 

To be honest, he would have proposed a lot sooner, but he wanted to wait until he knew you were ready as well. Realistically, Rook knows you’re not nearly as intense as he is. He’s self-aware enough to know that much. If you were, he would’ve proposed the second he laid eyes on you, but he wanted to wait until he was absolutely sure you would say yes. 

And, he thinks the day has finally arrived. It’s a wonderful day today. You both wake up refreshed, the sun is bright but not overbearing, and everything just feels perfect. That’s how he knows he should propose today. 

Rook decides to waste no time, pulling out the ring right as you get out of bed. You freeze where you stand, absolutely floored at the sudden situation you’ve found yourself in. Your brain, although refreshed from a good sleep, is still lagging behind as you process what’s happening. Rook simply stands there, smiling at you as if he isn’t literally proposing to you right now. It’s actually kind of comforting to see him acting like himself even now. 

Once your brain officially catches up, you immediately say yes, and Rook is ecstatic at your reply. He hugs you and spins you around before kissing you so softly. He then places the ring on your finger, bringing your hand up to kiss your knuckles. 

Your wedding is a rather small one. Rook has a big family compared to most, but they’re really the only one’s he invites. You both have some friends you invite as well, but other than that, it’s a pretty small affair. It’s perfect for you. It’s intimate and fun, and you get to spend a lot of time being cute and romantic with Rook. 

Epel

Who proposes: Epel

Epel always thought the idea of marriage was stupid. In his village, all of the couples were either overly mushy or constantly fighting. Even so, it was still encouraged by his family for as far back as he can remember. Everyone was always telling him how, one day, his feelings would change and he would find someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. 

He hates that they ended up being right. 

Meeting you ruined pretty much every opinion he had on relationships, but he can’t exactly say that he minds. You’re always so sweet to him, treating him kindly even when he isn’t the nicest to you. He acts out like a child, being mean to you in the hopes that his feelings will go away, but to no avail. No matter how hard he tries, he just falls more and more every time he sees you. 

Eventually, he does pluck up the courage to ask you out properly. You agree, of course, and he’s actually so happy. From that point on, your relationship is actually very good. He treats you well, and most of his issues are usually targeted at himself and his own internalized feelings. 

Sometimes, he feels like being overly mushy and sweet makes him less of a man, but you’re always quick to reassure him that he’s so manly and cool. He absolutely loves it when you reassure him like that, as it shows him that you’re always there to support him when he needs it. 

Despite all of this, Epel still has pretty negative views on marriage. He wouldn’t mind getting married to you, but the idea of actually proposing and having a wedding? It’s not something that sounds very fun to him. If he could, he would just skip those and get right to married life with you. 

Realistically, he knows not much would change. The two of you are already quite domestic, and marriage won’t do much to change up the dynamic. And yet, his brain continues to doubt itself, constantly pulled between wanting to propose and wanting to keep things how they are now. 

It ends up being his Meemaw who knocks some sense into him. During a visit to his hometown, he brings up his concerns to his Meemaw, and she immediately berates him for being so wimpy. If he wants to propose, then he should just be a man and propose already. That hits him hard, and it’s actually enough to convince him. 

That night, Epel buys a ring. He doesn’t plan on doing it that night since he wants a few days to prepare, but at least he’ll have the ring. Over the course of a few days, he meticulously plans out exactly how he wants to propose. 

Finally, the day arrives. Epel first takes you out for brunch at a nice restaurant. It’s a fairly normal date, and you seem to be having fun so far. Then, he takes you to the local gardens, knowing you’ll like how beautiful they are. You spend hours just walking and talking as you admire all of the plants. Epel, meanwhile, can only admire you. 

The last place he takes you is home, and he cooks up the fanciest dinner he could possibly make. It’s certainly nothing crazy, but it’s amazing all the same. Once you’re finished eating, he puts the final part of his plan into action. 

He cleans up the dishes and returns to the table where you sit, and he kneels down in front of you. He then pulls out the ring box he was hiding from you, opening it to show you the ring he bought. You sit there, stunned. Never did you think Epel would be proposing to you, especially after such a cheesy and romantic day like this. Of course you say yes, pulling him up to kiss him. He then takes the ring and slips it on your finger. 

This was very unlike his usual self. This was cheesy and over-the-top, which he used to hate. Now though, as he looks at how happy you are, he thinks that, maybe, it’s okay to be sappy. 

Your wedding is in Harveston, obviously. All of the village is invited, as well as all of your friends. It’s less of a wedding and more of a giant party. Everyone is celebrating and having a fun time, and you and Epel are at the center of it all. It’s a fun time and it lasts well into the night. Lots of apple treats of course, a lot of them made by Epel’s family.

[neiptune]

it’s valentine’s day, you clown

cw: 1.2k wc, blank blogs don't interact, something something your volleyball superstar boyfriend tooru flies home to surprise you only to pass out on your bed, this is my first ever hq fic and it's a complete coincidence that it's about him please be nice and don't make any assumptions

thank you @moondust-lore for reading this 🤍

His breathing stays regular and quiet as you crawl onto the mattress. Your bed is still somehow comically small and far from ideal to accomodate that unique ensemble of long limbs, sturdy muscles and swooping brown hair. Yet his sleep is serene, features relaxed that fill your chest with warmth that almost prompts your fingers to run through smooth locks. How have they not been rendered thicker or dry by the sea salt yet?

You’re careful as you snuggle closer to his broad back, not really wanting to wake him up. A small smile creeps onto your lips at the thought of how tired he must’ve been, couldn’t even bother to properly slip underneath the covers, knocked out in seconds. Flying all the way to Japan, travelling for almost 24 full hours to surprise someone must do that to a person.

The shock has worn out, the sensation of your heart being one second from bursting and exploding into a million golden confetti has dimmed. Now your head feels clear enough for your mind to be focusing on the important stuff, the mundane thoughts you didn’t have the luxury of dwelling on for months are a messy but colorful vortex. Would he like the usual for dinner? Does the uniform or any shirts need some ironing? Yes, yes, Tooru favors dry cleaners because they’re practical and he’s rich but you desperately want to contribute. You want proof that he’s home, actually home. With his big designer suitcases and wrinkled shirts and ridiculously expensive glasses and a smile that still shifts your world’s axis.

You allow yourself to scoot closer, until your nose brushes against his shoulder. He radiates a comforting  warmth and smells nice as always. Of sunscreen, beaches, the cologne you have bought for his birthday. As you shut your eyes, memories from the previous night start slowly blurring the edges of your consciousness and lull you to sleep.

“Shit! Fuck!” you jolt awake at the unexpected profanities, the last thing you remember dreaming about including tanned skin and a much more peaceful scenery made of rolling waves and golden, powdery sand.

“What… what’s wrong?!”

Oikawa Tooru is looking at your with what could be only defined as a glare. Eyes squinted, accusatory worry lines and all.

“You let me sleep? Why were you sleeping too instead of waking me up? It’s late!” his pitch gets higher with each word and by the end of the fully formed sentence you’re grimacing. The awfully old digital alarm clock on your nighstand flashes a red 11:05 PM.

“I’m sorry!” you panic “I didn’t mean to fall asleep! I know it’s late but I can probably put something together for dinner anyway? Are you that hungry? Wait, actually, let me get something delivered and…”

Now he’s staring with an openly outraged look on his pretty face, which makes you think finishing the thought probably isn’t the smartest idea.

“You… don’t want me to order in? I mean, fine, you can pick any local restaurant or takeaway, I don’t really ca-”

“Are you stupid?”

Ok, well. That feels unfair.

“I already apologized for falling asleep, no need to be a jerk” now you’re squinting your eyes at him. One eye. The other is being relentlessly rubbed.

“You’re right” he sighs and his massive shoulders slump, head hanging low like a wounded animal “it’s not your fault. I’m the dumb one. Couldn’t even set an alarm”

“I think you’re blowing this out of proportion, we can still eat something. If you’re worrying about your sleep schedule, I’m sure I can find some sleeping pills or…”

Oikawa looks at you, exasperated.

“That’s definitely not what I’m worried about”

“What the hell are you worried about, then?”

“It’s valentine’s day, you clown”

You blink back your surprise, his fond eye roll not easing the heat that takes over your face as realization finally dawns on you. “That’s… that’s why you flew here?”

Tooru leans forward to lightly flick your forehead. A car passes down the street, the light bleeding through your shades brightens the room for a moment and you catch the sincere amusement in his eyes.

“Yes, darling dearest. That’s exactly why I flew here. I was also supposed to make plans, take you out on a proper date, rob a flower shop from the inside out instead of passing out and drooling on your favorite duvet”

You stare back at his comical frown for a few seconds more before falling back into your pillows with a chuckle.

“Glad you think this is funny and not irredeemably gross. Stop giggling, let me think. I’m gonna go buy the most expensive champagne bottle and pick dandelions along the fucking sidewalk if I have to, and then-”

“Tooru”

“What?” he’s already swinging one leg over the edge of the bed “I’ll be quick”

“You’re here”

Oikawa snorts.

“Yes, I’m still here. Now, if you could kindly let go of my shirt…”

“I don’t want any of those things. You know I don’t want them”

He huffs and air comes out of his nose. “Yeah, I know. But I wanted it to be special” his tone is petulant but you recognize the real thing vibrating underneath, the genuine disappointment.

“It’s already special because you’re here. The only thing that could make it extra special is you filling this cold, empty spot next to me” you pat the covers with a lenient smile and Oikawa allows himself three seconds, three entire seconds to sulk and flash you those big, wet, sopping eyes with a pout that makes him less of a volleyball superstar and more of a kicked labrador puppy.

You welcome his painfully heavy body on top of yours, sharp angles and hard muscles that somehow melt perfectly in your embrace. He’s holding you so tight, head buried in the crook of your neck, soft hair tickling your cheek.

“I’m sorry” Tooru murmurs the apology quietly and seals it into your skin. You know he truly is, devastated as he always gets when something doesn’t go according to the plan. Always one for grandiose gestures and loud displays of affection, chasing whatever it takes to validate how he feels just in case the other person needs proof, always additional proof heaven forbid they feel neglected or get bored. His confidence wavering, his mind always running 100 miles an hour. Am I doing enough? Am I still enough?

“I love you” you reply for good measure and his arms tighten around your body.

But do I deserve it?

“Thank you for flying across the planet to get to me” you smile into his hair before kissing the side of his head “I missed you”

“I’d fly across the solar system to get to you” he’s smiling too, it’s in his voice.

“Corny” with a grin, you pinch his cheek until he looks up with an exaggerated, pained groan. But before he has the chance to protest, you take his disgustingly pretty face in your hands. 

“Wherever you fly from, I’ll be there to welcome you home”

Tooru smiles into the kiss, chases your lips when you relax back into the pillows.

And I’ll spend my life trying to deserve it.

Good thing he has at least five different Havanna Alfajores variety boxes somewhere in one of those suitcases. And two tickets to fly back to Argentina.

[shomatoriashi]

10/12/24; 02:06pm

{ drabble }

- the academy arc -

sung jinwoo x fem.reader

when jinwoo didn’t see you in class today, he was filled with concern, mind already running through various scenarios of what could have gone wrong.

did she get into an accident?

had someone broken into her house?

is she sick?

throughout class, he barely payed attention to the lectures, pretending to have his notebook open while closing his eyes. he focuses on the shadow soldier he had assigned to you, watching through their eyes to see you curled up in bed. he frowns at the sight, looking toward your nightstand to see a glass half filled with water along with a bottle of some over-the-counter pain medicine.

and that was all the confirmation he needed to know that you needed him.

with the rest of classes the last thing on his mind, he goes up to the teacher during lunch break. putting on the most stressful expression he could manage, jinwoo keeps his voice solemn, saying how he needed to head home and take care of someone immensely precious to him.

the teacher, filled with understanding, gives jinwoo permission to leave early while reassuring him that she’ll speak to the office and his track coach; that his absence won’t count against him. jinwoo flashes her a grateful smile, collecting his notebooks together in a neat pile before placing them inside his backpack.

as he leaves his classroom, he gives his peers a wave, making some paper thin excuse about a family emergency he had to tend to before quickly exiting the school grounds. once he was certain he was alone, jinwoo closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

he thinks of your comforting room, using the sight of you curled up in bed, clearly sick with a fever, allowing the sight to push him forward.

“exchange.”

the transition was smooth and seamless, with him materializing where his soldier had once stood guard close to you. he enters your room while letting out a sigh, glowing, purple eyes filled with concern for you as you continue to remain beneath the comfort of your blankets.

just seeing your sleeping face was enough to ease his anxieties, stepping forward so that he could kneel beside your bed. perhaps most people would label him as being too clingy when it came to you-

yet he truly couldn’t go another second without seeing you.

with a soft sigh of your name, he pushes aside your damp strands of hair, feeling the sweat against your skin. it was clear that your body was fighting off an infection that rendered you in this weak state.

caressing at your damp cheek with the back of his hand, he watches the way your eyelids seem to flutter in response before slowly opening. your eyes met with his, slightly frowning to see him here. “jinwoo…? what are you… doing here? shouldn’t you be in school?”

he shakes his head, “school’s not important to me right now- you are.”

jinwoo had to hide back a grin, seeing your cute pout and the way the tears seemed to fill your vision. letting out soft coos of your name, he wipes away your tears while telling you, “i know that your parents are away on a business trip together, and won’t be back until a week later. and there’s no way in hell i’m leaving my precious girl all alone like that.”

basking in your adoring gaze, jinwoo leans forward to press a kiss against your forehead. “now, how about i make you something light and refreshing to eat?”

he stands back to his full height, ready to head inside your kitchen to make something delicious, but light, for you to eat. he thinks about making congee, or chicken noodle soup, when he feels something preventing him from moving forward. looking down, he sees the way your hand weakly grips at his wrist. “i-i don’t feel too hungry… just really sleepy. please, jinwoo, could you- could you stay here and h-hold me instead?”

jinwoo’s gaze softens significantly then, giving you an eager nod. “anything for you, jagiya.”

you scoot over in your slightly cramped bed, making room for jinwoo as he settles himself on the mattress with you. letting out a content sigh, he wraps both arms around your frame, bringing you closer to him. he allows you to use his chest as your pillow, threading his fingers across your hair.

he hears you let out a content sigh, pressing a gentle kiss against his chest before cuddling closer to him. grabbing at the ends of your comforter, he makes sure to cover both of your forms beneath the blanket, basking in your hums of contentment. with you safely tucked away in his embrace, jinwoo presses one last kiss against your hair before falling asleep, silently vowing to protect you, the girl who always held his heart, with everything that he had.

end notes: hhhhhhh i still love you, jinwoo. 🥹

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!