#yeah I think he has them and I think it's implied he struggles with it
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runecatwrites · 2 days ago
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Let’s talk about Warriors and Wild, the sequel
A follow-up to my analysis of their current dynamic in light of the new update!
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First, lets recap that analysis (linked above):
Warriors feels frustrated. He respects Wild and sees him as a valuable member of the team, but he’s having a really hard time connecting with the Champion and understanding his actions. Wild always does the opposite of what Warriors expects. He knows that the two of them can’t be good teammates unless he can get on Wild’s wavelength, and he’s really trying hard to get there.
Wild is confused and ashamed. He’s been doing what he thinks is best, but Warriors says he’s made the wrong choices, and Wild has a difficult time understanding why. He feels like as a knight, he should have a better understanding of why, but his amnesia prevents him. Therefore he thinks that Warriors hates him and sees him as stupid.
Continued below the cut!
Now with that analysis in mind, lets take a look at this exchange:
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Time gets it.
He knows where both Warriors and Wild are coming from.
He understands that Warriors is struggling to pin down Wild’s motives and behavior.
He understands that Wild is suffering from an inferiority complex.
And here, he’s trying to reassure the Champion that he’s not in trouble, and Warriors doesn’t hate him. In fact, surprisingly, this pep talk seems to imply that Time doesn’t necessarily think Wild did anything wrong. As far as he’s concerned, the Shadow and its cronies were dealt with and that’s that. Sure, it didn’t go by Warriors’ by-the-book military strategy, but what Wild did worked, and everything did end up okay in the end. And now, he’s explaining to Wild that Warriors’ intentions are: Warriors wants to see firsthand how Wild handles what he’s faced with. The Captain seeks not to punish him, but to figure him out so he can adjust his approach to teamwork accordingly.
Oh yeah, it’s all coming together. I think now more than ever that we’re going to see some character growth coming up here. It still might be a bumpy ride (these boys are stubborn and have communication issues after all) but we’ll get there.
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skippygiraffee · 3 months ago
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Hi, I'm the Raileon anon from a while back. Thank you for answering my ask! I loved reading your thoughts, and I hope you don't mind if I ask you for some more. You mentioned Leon and Raihan were both fascinating characters to you separately as well, and I wanted to ask why you felt Raihan was fascinating? I have my own reasons ofc, but I'd be delighted to hear yours as well.
I absolutely never mind, thank you for the ask!! (even if it takes me a while to answer things sldjfksjf). genuinely I love talking about these characters, all the SWSH characters (and SuMo) really, and talking about Raihan is top tier for me. under the cut because it's both long and I have included images from the manga as little Raihan treats :3
in regards to Raihan, what a character, yeah? when I got this ask I immediately went into chat with @beammeupbroadway and we had the following exchange (she's the Furby icon, I'm the first message):
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and to elaborate a little, we're all introduced to Raihan in the framing of him being Leon's rival, and we're not really reintroduced to him until midway through the game. so for a while we're left with this impression that Raihan is the hotheaded rival to Leon, setting them up with the same sort of framing as like Hop vs Bede (which is more a rivalry than with the player I argue) or even Red vs Blue (certainly with the Charizard and the color imagery at play with both Raihan and Leon's designs). Raihan is, at his core, a peek at what someone looks like when they grow up in the shadow of someone else.
it's stated in game he has different interests, hobbies, a career, but he's still Leon's rival Raihan. where his job as a Gym Leader and his work with the Hammerlocke Vault serve the narrative purpose of bringing the player closer to Leon and closer to solving the mystery of the Darkest Day, rather than things that allow us a better view of Raihan. not to discredit those moments, because they absolutely do allow us as to see more of Raihan, but I guess I want to argue that the game just uses them as a jumping off point to get to Leon. even Raihan's accomplishments as a Gym Leader and battler are framed within the context of him being so good he could be Champion of another region, but he can't beat Leon. from a world building and audience perspective I think it's interesting to see, but man, picturing that as how he's painted in Galar, in universe? where all of these insanely amazing accomplishments are pushed aside to market himself as Leon's rival I think genuinely ruined his self image, his self esteem, and the way he views anything he does. Raihan's social media presence got started because of Leon, even if he sometimes takes random pictures of sand storms, and the only thing removed from Leon is his love of fashion and history, but we don't even get to see a lot of that as the audience/player of the game because it's not relevant to the story in most cases, and definitely isn't relevant to Leon. this was definitely a little rambly, but at least right here I just think that like Raihan being literally overshadowed by Leon makes him fascinating to rotate around like a rotisserie chicken, because you take one whiff of that guy and you can tell he was spiced up with self loathing and angst strong enough to turn the average character into a straight up villain
ties to Leon aside, the little things about Raihan I adore ARE those little hobbies he has. fashion, history, social media all are super interesting, and ignoring the Gym Trainer battle with WEATHER EFFECTS INSIDE THE TAPESTRY VAULT aside it's clear he is a trusted expert on the matter. Sonia goes to him, even if it's a way to get the player closer to Leon Raihan is the one who grants access to the vault, and anyone who loves tapestries is immediately boosted in my books
his characterization in the manga is really cool, and I adore manga Raihan a lot. it's actually when I really fell in love with his character because he's given a lot of really neat moments, where he's kind of this key player in having everything come together. also he was a trouble maker when he was younger!!! which I think is a logical reaction to being pitted against the literal undefeated Champion for so long. but, allow me to picture that below:
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I also love him spraying himself in the face with a potion after being poisoned by Eternatus in the manga. like yeah he's confused, but literally no other character is brought up, only Raihan which is funny to me
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also him and Piers are just buddies!! which is neat, especially since in the post game of the base SWSH titles they're shown not to really have interacted that much
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he's also super polite to Melony (my beloved Mummy Melony scene), and he's overall pretty fleshed out, with being both serious and goofy, while having this odd tension with Leon when it comes to serious moments
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like it shows a lot of complicated things brewing under the surface for him, even in the manga, and I love how it keeps his characterization in tact, while expanding on it in a way that feels natural
I think in short, there's an argument to be made that Raihan could have been left as this one dimensional rival to Leon whose only purpose to push the player along their journey. a road block as a Gym Leader, a helper as the keeper of the vault, but nothing more. and yet he's a pretty fleshed out character, who has other stuff going for him. he could be so many things, and yet he's Raihan, the dragon guy who loves fashion, is a bit silly, but also takes things as serious as they need to be taken. who had a bit of a rebellious streak when he was younger, to the point Rose knows about it in depth. where, in game, he can flip from smiling like :3 to hunching over in the stadium yelling out moves. he's cool, like undeniably, but also not, and I love that skdjfklsfd. I think Raihan is a testament to the subtle ways the Pokemon writers can dish out characterization without explicitly writing things in, and I love him for it
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sneakystorms · 11 months ago
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Maybe I should've seen it coming with the weight placed on the concept of "desire" but i really wasn't expecting dungeon meshi to turn into a full on buddhist lecture
#s#dungeon meshi#not that I'm complaining! I'm into it#but yeah the lion's explanation of how desires only lead to momentary and unsustainable happiness..#marcille being tormented by her desires...#and the way senshi's early 'it's better to do it yourself' attitude is now echoed in how instantaneous fulfilment of marcilles desires#brings her no joy#senshi being the most zen of all the characters#dunmeshi really said 'the well of your desire is literally infinite and by trying to fill it up you condemn yourself to endless torment'#and i clapped#dungeon meshi spoilers#i guess#ah!!! and the lion's eyes are a symbol of infinity.... infinite desire...#i thought it was a keyhole at first haha#hmm now that i think abt it more. part of the fundamental lore of dunmeshi is 'things that are consumed cease to exist'#with eating monsters and with eating desires. so a boundary is being drawn between temporarily fulfilling a desire (the desire comes back#and the cycle continues) and consuming a desire (the desire is gone). the former is more positive#and plays into the circle of life/finding nirvana in repeatedly fulfilling your desires thing that senshi esp has going on#the latter is portrayed negatively as it seeks to 'once and for all' fulfill something that is by its nature infinite#true fulfillment lies in accepting the neverending struggle of temporarily satisfying one's desires... one must imagine sisyphus happy.....#im literally extrapolating multiple philosophy lectures from this manga i love it#in that way you could see the lion's struggle (to satisfy an infinite desire (for others' desires)) as worthwhile!#coming back AGAIN after like ten more pages of the lion's backstory#all the trouble he caused stemmed in some way from his attempts - actually from his ABILITY - to fulfill every desire presented to him#the story seems to imply it would've been better if ppl had been allowed to struggle to fulfil their desires instead of having them granted
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imaginedisish · 6 months ago
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Lover, You Should've Come Over (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)
A/N: Get ready to cry. This is based on a request I received yesterday where the reader gets jealous of Jean. I tried to take this in a different direction just because I feel like this is a popular trope that has been done by many fantastic writers. It's also inspired by "Lover, You Should've Come Over," by Jeff Buckley. Hope you guys enjoy.
Summary: You've been pining after Logan since you joined the X-Men, and you're convinced he'll never love you back. He’s obsessed with Jean—always has been. Or...maybe he's not.
Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI, Oral (f!receiving), fingering, PIV (unprotected...pls WRAP IT UP THIS IS FICTION!), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, f!reader/afab!reader, telepathic!reader, cocky!Logan, softdom!Logan (kinda? yeah.), non-canon compliant (you'll see what I mean...no spoilers), cursing, angst, feelings, implied mutant trauma (kinda a given in X-Men), probably some grammatical errors, I think that's it.
Word Count: 4,197 sorry
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Wanting someone you can’t have—it’s that crying in the shower, pulling your legs into your chest, screaming into your pillow kind of heartache. You’ve come to know the feeling intimately. It’s an awful, horrid, stomach-churning kind of pain.
But you want him. Despite all the pain, you want him. Logan Howlett. You can’t seem to keep him off your mind. For the few months you’ve been one of the X-Men, Logan has been a constant. He’s always there—whether it’s to train or just to talk. But you know he’ll never want you. You see the way he looks at Jean. You wish you didn’t. You wish you were oblivious to that sort of thing. But you don’t need to use your telepathy to reach inside his mind for proof—you just know. 
You keep holding on, savoring every moment, every interaction you have with Logan. You sit on the lawn of the mansion with him, watching the sunset. You’ll come down to the living room late at night to find him sitting in front of the T.V. and join him. Sometimes he’ll drape an arm around your shoulder. He’ll draw circles into your side as you drift off. You’ll wake up the next morning back in your bed, Logan having carried you there long after you’ve fallen asleep. 
You’ve decided you’ll take all he’ll give you, even if it means nothing to him—even if it's platonic. 
But tonight, you wish something would come up through the floor and swallow you whole. A void, a black hole maybe. That would do the trick. Disappearing would make everything so much easier. The second-best thing to disappearing is sitting in the kitchen of the mansion, alone, with a pint of ice cream. You decide to practice your powers, moving the silver spoon with your mind, concentrating as you dig the spoon into the top of the pint and into your mouth. 
You hear a warm, familiar chuckle from the doorway as the spoon lands on your tongue. You look up, and there’s Logan, arms tucked across his chest. “Wish I could do that.”
You can’t help but smile around the spoon as he strides over to you, taking a seat on the stool next to yours. You slide the spoon out of your mouth and rest it on the napkin next to the ice cream. “Hey,” you mutter, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 
His shoulder brushes against yours. He’s so close it hurts. You try to shove the pain down and enjoy the moment. 
“Was hoping I’d run into you down here. Thought maybe you’d be in bed already,” Logan says, his eyes locked on yours. 
You shake your head, doing your best to keep that fake smile plastered on your face. “Couldn’t sleep.” 
You can see the sudden concern appear on his face. “Everything okay?” He asks, tilting his head to the side. Fuck, you think to yourself. Maybe he’s catching on. 
“Yeah,” you murmur, looking down at the ice cream. “Just still having a hard time adjusting.” It wasn’t a lie. You had always struggled with your powers, longing to hide, to shove them down. Your whole life, you were either a freak or something to be used—whatever was most convenient in the moment. The struggle between visibility and forcing yourself to be “normal” was an impossible battle. You were no stranger to being taken advantage of or being experimented on.
Logan was the first person who understood that—understood you. He made you feel seen in a way that no one ever had. It’s part of the reason you’ve fallen so hard for him. 
His hand is suddenly on your back, yanking you from your thoughts and back to reality. “I’m here,” he whispers. “Whatever you need, anything.” 
Anything. You wish he really meant it. 
“Thanks, Lo.” You smile up at him, letting your eyes linger on his lips for just a second before looking back down at the ice cream. “Want some?” You ask, nodding at the pint. 
“Only if you feed it to me the way you did when I walked in.” You can hear the smirk in his voice as he taps the spoon. You side-eye him incredulously. “I mean it. Wanna see you do it again.” There’s a husk in his voice, a shift in his timber that sends a chill down your spine. You try not to think about it too much as you pick up the spoon with your mind. 
You guide the spoon inside the pint, scraping the top, and lifting it up towards Logan’s mouth. He opens wide as you lead the spoon inside, his tongue hitting the bottom as his lips close around it. The implications of the moment don’t dawn on you until he’s grabbing the spoon with his hands and sucking on the metal. There’s something undeniably suggestive about this. 
Heat rises to your chest as you replay the image of him taking the spoon into his mouth in your mind. It’s so intimate, so domestic. And, certainly, something else—something that makes you tick, that makes that familiar fire grow deep within your belly. 
But—like always—the moment doesn’t last long. You wince, feeling someone itching against your thoughts, prodding at your mental shields, begging to be let in. Suddenly, there’s another voice in your mind. 
I gotta try that myself. You flinch at the sound, taking the spoon from Logan’s hand and shooting it across the room to where you sense the person’s presence. You turn around, and there’s Jean, resisting the spoon’s trajectory with her mind. 
It's almost pressing into her skull, shaking in mid-air, ready to break her skin. You gasp and drop the spoon, embarrassed to have registered her as a threat. “I’m so sorry,” you say, watching as Jean crouches down and picks up the spoon. “I didn’t know that was you in there, I swear.”
You expect Logan to stand from the chair and rush over to Jean, but he stays next to you, glued to your side, the palm of his hand resting gently on your back. “Jean.” His voice is firm, almost cold and harsh. “What was that?” You’re surprised at how curt he’s being with her, surprised he remembered that you’re sensitive to people probing around your mind, even if it’s friendly. 
Jean mutters a curse. “I was just communicating with her. I didn’t think she’d—” 
Logan stands, his hand still steady at your back. “Don’t do that again. Ever.” His voice is louder now, heavier. 
She whispers an apology, setting the spoon on the counter and walking towards the doorway. “I really didn’t mean to hurt you,” she says. “I should’ve remembered given your…” she pauses, searching for the word, “past…that it wouldn’t be a good idea.” She takes another tentative step. “I’ll leave you two alone,” she says, and she slips out. 
Logan settles back into the stool next to you. You’re shocked that he’s still here, that he hasn’t run away yet. You can hear him breathe—in and out—gentle, long breaths. You close your eyes and listen, the sound calming you down. You’re still expecting him to leave, to walk away, but he doesn’t. 
“You okay?” He asks, your eyes fluttering open, his voice hanging in the air. His head is tilted to the side, worry painted across his face. 
“Y-yeah. I’m fine,” you stutter, your voice cracking. “You don’t have to stay with me. You can go check on her if you want.” You nod towards the doorway—to wherever Jean wandered off to. 
“And why would I do that?” Is all he says in return, furrowing his brows. 
You put on that fake smile again. “I almost jammed a spoon into her forehead because she spoke to me telepathically.” You shake your head. “Don’t really think my reaction was particularly friendly—or something that good people do.” You break eye contact with Logan and look to the other side of the kitchen. “Plus, you two are…close.”
“Hey.” His voice is firm again, but gentle this time, reassuring. His hand slips across your back and rests on your waist. You’re so shocked by the contact that you almost miss what he says. “First of all, she knows better. Charles warned her about what you’ve been through. And second…” He trails off, smirking at you. “I’d rather be with you.”
Oh? Oh. He’d rather be with you. 
“I just thought, you know, you and Jean were…” You’re too embarrassed to finish the sentence and too nervous to hear him say the words you’ve been dreading most. 
He shakes his head, that smirk still spread across his lips. “No, it’s not Jean I want. Never has been.” 
Your breathing becomes shaky—your heart beating rapidly in your chest. “If it’s not Jean, then—” 
Logan cuts you off as he suddenly moves. His arm lifts from your waist as he stands, turning your stool around so your back is against the cold countertop. He’s gripping the arms of the stool now, caging you in. Your mind is hazy—you can’t concentrate with him this close. 
“You think I do the shit I do with you with Jean too, hm?” He’s towering over you, his head cocking to the side, his voice self-assured and confident. “Think I’m watching movies and sunsets with her? Carrying her to bed, too?” 
You’re overwhelmed, dizzied by his words, his size, him. “Just thought that—”
“Just thought what?” He cuts you off again. “That I didn’t want you, darlin’?” He brings his lips to the shell of your ear, one hand moving from the counter to your hip. “Wanted you this whole time,” he huffs, goosebumps rising on your arms. “Only you.” He presses a kiss to your ear, and then just underneath your jaw. 
“Logan,” you whisper. “W-want you too,” you choke out, your hands coming up and around his back. “B-but someone’s gonna walk in on us.” 
He’s ignoring you, biting your pulse point lightly and licking the pain away. “Let them,” he husks, refusing to stop. You instinctively bring your hands up to the nape of his neck, your nails digging in slightly. He groans at the contact, his chest heaving against yours. 
“One of the kids is catch us in here, or somebody else,” you mutter, his face still buried in the crook of your neck. “W-we should—”
“Go to my room.” He finishes your thought. 
“Please.” 
And then he’s picking you up from the chair, his hands under your thighs, grabbing your ass. You wrap your legs around his waist as he prowls out of the kitchen. He looks both ways as he crosses the hallway and makes his way to the stairs. There’s no one in sight. He carries you up the steps and down the hall to his room, practically breaking down the door as he swings it open and slams it shut. 
And then he’s laying you down on his bed, crawling over you, pressing his forehead against yours. “Wanted you in here sooner,” he murmurs, his lips just inches from yours. “Hoped you’d come over one night. You should’ve.”
His lips crash down onto yours before you can find the words to say. He’s starving for you, swallowing your moans as his hands slip under your shirt, his nails digging lightly into your sides. “So fucking beautiful,” he rasps against your lips. Everything is desperate and rushed, hands pawing at bare skin in the dim light of his room. 
Logan tugs on the hem of your shirt, rolling it up your body and over your head. He tosses it to the side as he sits up on his knees, taking you in. He curses under his breath, looking you up and down. 
“Logan,” you whine, arching your back. You need his hands on you again, his lips. Something. Anything. 
“I know, pretty girl,” he soothes, his fingers hooking inside the waistband of your shorts. “Gonna take care of you.” He yanks them down your legs, leaving you in just your bra and panties. 
He pulls off his own shirt, tossing it carelessly, letting it get lost on the floor. He settles back down over you, balancing on his forearm as his free hand finds your waist. He slides up to the bottom of your bra, teasingly pulling on the fabric before slipping his hand behind your back—skillfully unclasping the bra with one easy motion. You arch your back again, the bra straps sliding down your arms as Logan tosses the bra to the floor, too. 
“Fuck,” he mumbles, his hand tracing the curves of your breasts, massaging gently. “Perfect.” He captures your lips in another kiss as his thumb ghosts over your nipples, just barely giving you the relief you need before pinching softly. The pressure feels so good, so right, but it’s not enough. 
He draws circles around your nipples with his thumb, the sensation feeding the aching fire between your legs. Your hips involuntarily lift off the mattress, meeting his. “Need me that bad, huh?” He is always so incredibly cocky, even now—especially now. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you, and what to do next. 
Logan grinds his erection into your core. You can feel how big he is, the weight of him heavy against your cunt even in his jeans. You clench around nothing, whining his name as his strained cock teases your panty-clad pussy. “You want me to make you feel good, pretty girl?”
“Y-yes,” you stutter, biting your lips as his hand leaves your tits and sweeps down your stomach, stopping just above your clit. He slides his fingers down just a bit more, feeling where your arousal seeps through your panties. 
“Already soaking for me, sweetheart.” The bassy timber of his voice stokes that flame deep within your belly. Without warning, he’s hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties and yanking them down your legs. “Can’t wait anymore, pretty girl,” he whispers. “Wanna taste this pussy.” He kisses your belly button, leaving a trail down the rest of your stomach as his mouth travels to where you need him most. 
There’s something depraved about the way he’s crawling down your body, taking in every inch of you. He spreads your legs apart with the palms of his hands—his thumbs brushing against your bare skin, licking teasingly at your inner thighs as he settles in between them. 
He pauses, looking at you under hooded eyes. You can see the want—no, the need—in the way his muscles flex and how he works his jaw. But he’s hesitating, his breath hot against your core, sending another jolt of desire through your body. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your eyes searching his for his next move. 
He finally presses a kiss to your clit. “You don’t understand how you make me feel,” he mumbles against your heat, licking a long stripe through your folds and back to your clit. “No idea how long I’ve fucking wanted you.” You throw your head back, whimpering his name as he laps again and again. He’s starving, and you’re the only thing that can satiate his hunger. His tongue swirls around your clit, flicking it, taking it in between his lips and sucking hard. 
Your hips lift off the mattress and Logan quickly moves to hold them down. “You’re not going anywhere, darlin’,” he grunts against you, the vibration of his voice going straight to your core. 
His free hand slips up the inside of your thighs, teasingly climbing higher and higher, his nails skimming your flesh. He’s toying with you, leading you on, taking his time. His fingers finally ghost over your folds, exploring you, stroking up and down as his tongue laps at your cunt. 
Logan prods your entrance with two fingers, slipping in just a bit, testing the waters. “Please,” you beg, pushing your hips down in an attempt to sink his fingers deeper into you. He stops you, his hand still firmly holding your hips down, refusing to give you the release you’re dying for. 
“So fucking impatient, aren’t you?” He tuts. And then he’s shoving two fingers all the way inside you, down to his knuckles. “Such a pretty pussy.”
“F-fuck!” You cry out, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he sets a relentless pace. He’s drinking you in, sucking roughly, his long fingers pumping in and out with a vengeance. 
“’This what you wanted, pretty girl?” He asks condescendingly in between laps. You’re too fucked out to form a sentence, your legs trembling underneath him. You know he’s loving this—loving that you’re a wet, needy, whimpering mess. 
Your walls squeeze around his fingers, your swollen clit throbbing as he laps at you. You’re so close already. “Lo,” you call out, fisting the sheets of his bed. Everything in here smells like him: pine and mint and musk and tobacco and that thing that’s uniquely Logan. It’s all so overwhelming and overstimulating. You’re ready to fall apart, to melt into nothingness. “S-so close.”
He squeezes your hip. “I know, sweetheart,” he soothes, his pace unwavering as his fingers fuck into you, scissoring inside you, drawing you closer to your climax with that come-hither motion he does so well. Your walls flutter again. “That’s it,” he coos. “Wanna feel you come—wanna know what it tastes like.” He licks harder, faster. “Let go for me, darlin’.” 
He pushes you over the edge, pleasure warming your belly as you let go. It washes over you in waves, his fingers still pumping in and out, his tongue still hanging on to the taste of you. You ride it out, his thumb brushing your hip, coaxing you through it. His fingers slip out of your cunt, but his head is still buried between your legs. You shudder as he licks long, slow stripes through your folds. 
“So fucking sweet,” he growls, still starving for more. “Not done with you yet.”
Fuck. 
But you need more—need his cock deep inside you, pounding into you. You need him in front of you, his lips on yours. 
“Logan,” you whine, your voice shaky and trembling just like the rest of your body. He finally lifts his head, his hair a disheveled mess, your juices glistening on his lips and his chin. The sight of him makes your breath hitch in your throat. There’s a feral, needy look in his eyes. He’s starving for more of you, and you’re not quite sure he’ll ever get enough. 
But he can see your chest heaving and the desire in your own eyes. He knows what you need—he always does. He sits up on his knees, staring at you while he slowly unbuckles his belt. The tension is palpable, the clinking of his belt against the hardwood floors cutting through it like a hot knife—the only sounds the melding of your quick breaths and the shuffling of bed sheets as Logan finally comes up to meet you. 
He's balancing on his forearm as he unbuttons his jeans, undoing the zipper and shoving the denim and his boxers down his legs. You swallow at the sight of his cock springing against his stomach. You had felt his erection before, but he is far bigger than you ever anticipated. 
With one hand on his cock, he lowers himself in between your thighs. You instinctually spread your legs for him, inviting him in. He nudges against your entrance, taking his time. 
His forehead meets yours, your chests flush against each other’s, panting in sync. You’re both waiting with bated breath, his tip slipping inside, but stopping short before going any farther. 
His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “Thought I’d never have you,” he confesses, pushing his tip a bit further in. “Would’ve given up anything for this. Would’ve waited forever.”
“You don’t have to,” you murmur.  “I’m right here. I’m yours.” 
“Mine?”
“All yours.”
And then he’s pushing deep inside you, down to the hilt, bottoming out. He swallows your moans with a kiss, biting your lip, drawing blood, and licking it away. “All fucking mine.” He stays buried inside you, unmoving. “Wanna stay inside you forever, sweetheart,” he growls, your heart bursting at the thought.
He pulls himself all the way out and all the way back in, stretching you out, working you open. You look down in between your bodies and watch as his cock disappears inside of you. “Feels s-so fucking good,” you stammer, already drunk off him. 
“Like watching me fuck into you?” Logan husks, picking up his pace, his hips snapping into yours. 
“Y-yes,” you whimper. His muscles flex as he ruts into you. He takes the hand that was on his cock and brings it in between your bodies, his fingertips quickly finding your clit and giving it a soft pinch. Your back arches off the mattress at the sensation. 
Logan hums at your reaction. “So sensitive,” he groans. “Taking me so good, sweetheart.” You can feel him losing control as he rams into you, his thrusts growing harder with each pump of his cock. He’s drawing firm, fast circles into your core. 
It’s all too much, him, his cock, his fingers. Your skin is on fire, your nipples pushing against his chest—the friction absolutely delicious. You’re already so close, just a few steps away from the ledge, and you’re ready to fall. 
“Know you’re close, darlin’,” Logan moans in between kisses. “Can feel you squeezing me.” 
You hum in response, but Logan refuses to let up. His pace is beyond brutal, pounding into you over and over again, his fingers working your clit in tandem. Your muscles contract around him, gripping tightly. 
“That’s it,” he murmurs. “So fucking tight, so fucking warm.” His praises are more than you can handle. “You gonna come on my cock, just like this?” 
“Yes, fuck, Logan!” You’re a babbling mess, his name the only thing on your mind, on your lips, hanging in the air like it’s a sacred prayer. Everything is him, and it always has been. In this moment and in every other, he is your end and your beginning. 
 “Let go for me, sweetheart. Know you can do it for me.” His deep voice is all you need to walk you through it. You’re breaking down, coming on his cock, the pleasure coursing through your veins, spreading like an untamable fire. 
He’s stroking your clit long after you’ve come, still snapping his hips into yours, still working up towards his own orgasm. His pace is getting sloppier, but he shows no signs of stopping. You can feel yourself growing overstimulated, his cock rubbing against your walls, his fingers circling your clit. “S’too much,” you whine, your nails digging into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist. 
Logan presses himself closer to you, as close as he possibly can be. “You’ve got one more in you, sweetheart,” he coaxes, not letting up. “Know you can take it.”
You’re breathless, clinging onto him helplessly. You’re clamping down on him again, taking him deeper than you did before. He’s hitting that sweet spot with every thrust. “Lo,” you whimper. “I’m gonna—”
“I know, darlin’,” he grunts. You can feel him throbbing inside you. “Let it happen, I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.” 
The tension is snapping again, breaking in half as he pulls another orgasm from you. You shudder as you come for a third time, overstimulated and beyond fucked out. You know he’s close behind, his hips slowing down, his forehead pressed against yours. He slips his hand away from your clit and around your back, pulling you closer to his chest. It’s so intimate, so perfect. 
“F-fuck,” he mumbles. “Where do you want me to—”
You hold him closer. “Stay,” you whisper. “Want you inside. Wanna feel you come.”
“Oh fuck,” he mutters, plunging deep inside you, his muscles tensing as he fills you up, your name on his lips. His thrusts slow, pumping in and out every now and then before finally stopping. 
You stay like this for a few minutes, his arm keeping you tight against his chest, his cock still buried inside you and your foreheads still pressed together. 
He brings a hand up to your cheek, his thumb brushing gently across your skin. You sigh, your eyes fluttering open and closed. 
He shakes his head. “I always wanted you,” he says, his voice low and raspy. “The whole time. It was only ever you.” 
His words could make you cry. It’s everything you’ve ever hoped to hear. You smile, his hand finding its way to the crook of your neck, his fingers lightly stroking your sensitive skin. “Can’t believe I didn’t see it,” you breathe, your voice laden with sleepiness. “I never knew. Thought you’d never want me.”
“I’ll always want you.” His cock finally slips out of you, leaving you feeling empty. His legs tangle with yours, his lips pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. “Would’ve waited forever for you, darlin’.”
“Forever?”
“Longer.”
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blossomarlia · 2 months ago
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hi, could you write a drabble with reader x remus where she rlly struggles with getting involved or going to hang out with people without explicitly being invited (just feeling really worried about being rejected) and he kind of reassures her and looks after her?
hi, thanks for this request! hope you enjoy, i generally don't write school-aged drabbles but thought this fit the best.
summary: your fear of being rejected stops you from joining your friends, but remus reassures you
remus x fem! reader (implied early stages romance)
Sitting by one of the fireplaces in the Gryffindor common room, you’re wondering how many of the people around you have exchanged glances over the top of your head. You can almost feel judgement thickening the air, raised eyebrows and confused smiles that ask why is she even here? To be honest, the only reason that you haven’t moved away is that you were technically sitting here first, and the rest of them milled in and took their spots nearby- then again, was it purposeful, your taking a place on one of the sofas they often use? In hindsight it’s just embarrassing. They must be assuming that you sat down just so they’d have no choice but to talk to you. 
You know you’re expecting the worst of this group, none of whom particularly deserve it. The flock of seventh-years surrounding you are generally a good bunch; Lily, Sirius, Marlene, Mary, Peter, James, Remus, and Dorcas,. You want to be one of them more than  you want most other things, which is somewhat pathetic and completely obvious in the way you’re always hanging around. They may all be lovely, and your friends (to some extent), but you know how irritating it can be if there’s always someone not quite in the group hanging around.
You should leave. Get up and make some comment about homework, or whatever, and wait for absolutely nobody to stop you. It’s kinder to everybody. Isn’t it?
Lost in your thoughts, you miss what Lily says next, and then they’re all getting to their feet. You give what you hope is a casual smile, simultaneously relieved of your spiralling and disappointed that they’re fulfilling your expectations.
There’s a tap on your shoulder- Remus, your favourite, whose hair has grown out over Christmas and now curls over his ears. He seems to get taller and lovelier with every passing moment. It’s difficult to make eye contact.
“We’re heading to the greenhouses, did you hear?” He says quietly, hand stilling instead of pulling away. You press your lips together and nod, carefully hiding any sort of misplaced hurt. It’s not as if you’re entitled to an invitation.
“Alright, I’ll see you later!” Too enthusiastic.
His brows pinch together. “You’re not coming?”
You look up at the others, who are collecting scarves and bags on their way to the portrait-hole. How can you admit to Remus that you don’t think they want you along? How can you tell him, anyone, that you’re far too afraid of being made fun of, or becoming a joke within their tight-knit group, to risk it?
“Oh, I don’t know. I have heaps of homework.”
“You do?” He raises his eyebrows. You feel caught, despite not having been accused of any sort of lie. “I thought you finished it all yesterday.”
You’d been studying when he and Lily joined you, and all day you’ve been wondering why they chose to. You probably put a but too much value on people choosing to sit next to you in class or during study; it’s unlikely that it was more than an absence of other free tables.
“...Some, yeah. And I wouldn’t want to- you know, I wouldn’t…” You trail off and give an awkward laugh. Remus’ gentle expression is making the inside of your mouth hurt.
“What?” You’re not used to your excuses mattering so much. Mostly, you mutter something and disappear to your dorm in time to avoid any drama. Is he feeling guilty, awkward about having made plans as a group in front of someone else? You cringe at the notion of Remus realising how friendless you probably are, of his pity. 
You know it’s your own fault for being like this. You’ve had friends in the past- cool, funny, popular, attractive- who frequently left you out on purpose. A drunken conversation in fifth year revealed that you were tolerable at best, a joke at worst. Always pushing in and so desperate for invitations that to extend them could only be ironic. 
You think about that more often than you should. You’re constantly hyperaware of how tolerable you are, sure that you’ll say or do something which will make everyone else realise exactly why you’re not in any particular group. You can’t let that happen yet with all these people, so full of love for one another that even proximity to them feels like the experience of it. Still, they’re teenagers. Judgement is an automatic response, and Remus is clever in the way he jokes. He’ll retell this conversation to roaring laughter if you reveal too much- not that he’s ever unkind, but you sort of invite a bad impression, you think.
“It’s really fine,” You assure him. “I’m tired. It’s cold, too.”
“Right,” He nods, glancing downwards. You think you’ve won (as much as you can win, here) until he turns to James and Peter and says, “I think we’re going to stay here. Bit chilly.”
What?
James frowns, making a sound of protest. “Moony!” His eyes fall to you next, and you look away, guilty and embarrassed. You’d never even considered that pity would drive Remus to actually stay here, and now they’ll all hate you. Nice job, very well handled.
Marlene is next. “‘Cas has just finished growing the Alihotsy plant, though. We’re all going.”
“It’s been weeks since we all had the evening off- or at least, since Potter and Black didn’t have a detention each,” Lily reasons more kindly. She receives twin protests from the boys on either side of her, but remains unbothered, adding, “It’d be nice to spend a bit more time as a group.”
You’re awfully close to tears. All you’d wanted was to relieve them of yourself, to retreat to your room and wait until somebody explicitly invited you somewhere (if ever), and now you’ve gone and ruined everybody’s evening. You turn to Remus, more urgent than is likely normal. “Please just go with them,” You say softly, aware that your voice is all wobbly. “I’m just going to go to bed, I don’t want to interrupt all of you catching up. Please, it’s really okay.”
There’s a brief silence that spans the entire crowd. They’ve all heard, are all likely attempting not to laugh. Remus is giving you an awful look. 
“...Are you okay, lovely?” Mary asks. You can’t look at her, can’t look at any of them, but you’ve always been alright at masking emotion in your voice when you really try. You force something like a smile.
“Yes! Yes, completely fine, I’m only tired. Post-holiday blues, maybe.” You laugh and it sounds terrible. “I’ve really only got to go to bed. You all have fun!” Silence again. 
“We might join you all in a bit,” Remus says firmly. There are a few worried noises of assent, and they all head off. Now, you do see them looking at one another, frowning and looking upset. Poor Remus, you imagine them saying on their way to the greenhouses, stuck looking after her while we all escape.
Remus asks you to sit down again three times before you agree, still rather set on going to bed so you won’t cry in front of the entire common-room.
“What’s making you so upset?” He asks softly, once he’s finally detained you. You blink quickly and cast a glance around at the other students in the common-room, afraid to embarrass yourself more than you already have, but he’s quick to assuage the fear. “I cast a muffliato when James began talking about the Alihotsy prank- ages ago. Nobody’s heard anything, I promise.”
You swallow harshly. “Oh. Thanks. I’m sorry I’m being so- so-”
“If I could,” Remus says, firm but kind, “This will be a lot easier if we can get to the problem, here, rather than whatever you think you’ve done wrong.”
“I- right. Okay. Um,” You stammer. “They’re not really mutually exclusive.” “Why don’t you want to come? Did somebody say something hurtful?” You look at him, slightly startled. “What? It’s not that I don’t want to.”
Remus seems perplexed, looking the way he does when he’s working out a particularly difficult exam question. “No?”
“No.” You twist your fingers together so tightly that they hurt. “No, it sounds fun, it just… it’s not as if I’m going to demand to be brought along, am I?” The joke falls flat. You think you already knew it would, but it’s still a bit embarrassing to laugh and be met with a concerned frown.
 You take a few longer breaths. You can fix this. You have to fix this. 
“Look, it’s kind of you to stay here, but like Lily said- you all have the night off. It’s really not so bad not to spend it as a group. I want you to go, really.” The next smile is easier. You’ve done this before, convinced people not to feel bad for you. 
“Why would you need to demand to be brought along?” Remus asks. “We made the plans while you were right here.”
“You all made plans together,” You explain slowly. “You know, having an evening to yourselves and that sort of thing. There’s no need for- you know, I’m honestly just tired. That’s probably why I’ve reacted so oddly, it’s my own fault.”
Remus looks at you for a long while, so intent that your skin gets prickly and uncomfortable. Eventually, he speaks, quiet and considered. “...You haven’t acted oddly if that’s how you’ve been feeling.”
“Tired?”
“No, excluded.” He says gently. “You really didn’t know you were invited?” You don’t answer with more than silence, and he sighs. 
“You were. You’re always invited, dove, of course you are.”
Trying not to get to hung up on impossibilities, you shake your head quickly. “It’d be a bit rude to assume that.”
“It wouldn’t.” Remus replies immediately. Then, “Dove, what are we going to do with you?” Entirely too much to comprehend. You’re glad he goes on. “Would you look at me for a moment, please?”
You want to ask him why, or refuse, or run up to your dormitory, but you do as he says. You wonder if he knows that he could ask you to do almost anything and you’d say yes, if he’ll only keep looking at you with his coffee-coloured eyes.
“All of us- we want you to come along, wherever we are. You’re important to lots of people. Do you understand that?” “I- I just don’t want to push myself in.” You say, mortified.
“You aren’t. You’re being pulled, if anything, yeah?” His lips quirk. “When Lily said those things about spending time as a group, she meant you, too. If somebody said something that made you think otherwise, I’ll-”
“Nobody said anything,” You tell him feebly. This is all rather a lot to take in. “I think… maybe it’s more that nobody’s said I am invited, or a part of- I don’t know, it’s all sort of stupid.”
“No it’s not,” Remus disagrees. He pinches your chin quickly between thumb and forefinger, frowning again. Mary once commented that Remus would look sixty by the time you all left school, with all his worrying wrinkles. “Not stupid, but it’s not very kind to yourself, either. Why shouldn’t we want you around?”
You open your mouth and close it at his raised eyebrow. “Rhetorical question?” 
“Rhetorical question.” He confirms amusedly. “There’s no point arguing, because we do. I do. I wish you wouldn’t think otherwise.”
“I’ve only been friends with all of you for a little while, though. You’ve all been mates since first-year.” At that, Remus outright scoffs. “Have we, now?” 
You shrug. 
“James and Lily always liked each other, then? Dorcas didn’t only just start hanging around us as well?” You look down, and he sighs. “However long everybody’s known one another, the most important bit is that we all like each other, yeah? It wouldn’t matter whether we became mates at eleven or two days ago- we’re friends. Or- you know.”
You definitely don’t know, but you’re going red anyway. He was definitely talking about Lily and James- that’s all he meant by ‘you know’. Isn’t it?
Remus scratches the back of his head, quiet for another second. Then, “...Why don’t we go down to the greenhouses? We’ll stick together the whole time, you’ll not be sat by yourself again.”
“I don’t want to make you babysit.”
Remus tsks, expression becoming sterner for a moment. “Don’t think that way about yourself. I’m asking because I want you to come- it’s not worth going if you aren’t there.”
The long moment it takes for you to decipher whether he’s only being nice or if that’s the truth is enough for Remus to decide that you don’t really have a choice in the matter. Tugging you to your feet, and seeming taller than ever with your proximity, he winds his own scarf around your neck and pushes some hair behind your hear. You let him, mostly because you’re too surprised to do anything about it.
“Let’s go, before they all decide to try some of the Alihotsy themselves. Gloves?”
You manage a nervous giggle, putting your mittens on when he hands them to you. “Thanks.”
“That’s alright. Come on,” He gives you a crooked sort of smile. It’s sometimes difficult to tell if Remus is aware how good-looking he is. 
The entire group are far too enthusiastic at yours and Remus’ arrival fifteen minutes later, given the fact that it’s hardly been half an hour since they left. Either way, you’re quickly pulled into a squabble between Lily and James about- as Remus predicted- the logic of trying some Alihotsy for themselves. 
“Thank Merlin you came, you’re the only one who won’t be completely daft about this!” Lily says, linking her arm in yours. You smile before catching Remus’ eye and looking down, feeling yourself flush. Smug bastard, you think fondly.
It’s an entire two hours before everyone heads back up to the castle, having thoroughly violated curfew but without (to James and Sirius’ chagrin) having tested any of the plant which would induce hysterical laughter. You find yourself walking beside the tallest of the group in comfortable silence, a few steps behind the rest.
“Thanks for making me come with you,” You say, perhaps a little more earnestly than you ought. “It was really nice.”
“‘Course, dove.” You look up at Remus to find he’s already looking at you. He clears his throat, glancing over at Sirius and Marlene where they’re pretending to push each other into the snow. It’s likely to end in one of them following through and the other swearing eternal hatred. “We’re all glad you came along. Could even make a habit of it.”
You exhale a laugh. “Maybe.”
He gives you a sideways look. “Oh, ‘maybe’, is it?” “...Conceivably?” You grin, darting away when he grabs at you and sort of wishing you’d stayed still just to see what he’d do. Remus fixes you with a teasing glare.
“Watch it, sweetheart.”
You blink, choking on words for a minute. Sweetheart? Sweetheart!? Sweetheart, sweetheart, sweetheartsweetheartsweetheartsweetheart-
“You alright?” 
“Yeah!” You say, too quickly. Remus misreads your flusteredness as something else and softens, taking hold of your sleeve and tugging you towards him. You go easily.
“If it’ll help,” He says thoughtfully, “You can ask me if you’re invited to things. Or I’ll just tell you. Then you won’t have to go to the trouble of assuming either way.”
You like him so, so much. “That’s really nice of you, Remus.”
“Eh,” He shrugs. “You know me.”
Now, it’s harder not to smile than anything else. “I don’t want you to go to any trouble. It’s really my problem, I shouldn’t-”
“Enough,” He interrupts gently. “Just say yes, dove, if it’ll help. I won’t be unhappy either way.”There are several places within you, the more unkind parts, that say accepting his offer would be like accepting pity. But there are also places that are warmed at the thought, that remember how people reacted when you arrived in the greenhouse, that can start imagining a reality wherein nobody hated your presence by the sofas tonight, and those bits win the argument for the first time in a very long time. You look up at Remus, his soft eyes and fluffy hair dusted with snow, and nod.
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bunnywithablog · 2 months ago
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Hi! I saw that requests were open, so I wonder... can I request an imagine or headcanons (whatever you're more comfortable doing) about Legosi falling for a carnivore s/o and struggling with that after being so sure to be attracted to herbivores only please??
my writing chops are a bit rusty so please excuse me if this feels a bit off 😭 i had lots of fun writing it though!! if anyone is interested in a part 2, please let me know! i think it's a cool concept to explore and would love to do more with this >:) thank's for requesting and i hope you enjoy!
requests | rules | masterlist
pairing: Beastars - legoshi x carnivore!gn!reader - feeling conflicted over falling for a carnivore hc’s
warnings: internalized ...species-phobia??, brief locker-room talk from bill, implied love triangle if you squint
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- now this just threw him for an absolute loop
- i mean, sure legoshi has always been more than capable of recognizing when a carnivore would be considered conventionally attractive
- but to actually FEEL attracted to them himself???
- manages to convince himself that maybe he just really likes you,,,,as a fellow peer?
- why else would he feel so strongly towards you?
- it had to be some pack-mentality science! yeah, definitely! 🤔
- but it's hard to ignore the way his ears perk at the sound of your voice during class
- or the slight wag of his tail when he catches your scent in the hallways
- or how his heart seems to stop whenever you look in his direction,,,, 💗
- it's like you were sent into his life specifically to shake him up, it's so confusing!
- so his best solution to this? avoiding you entirely.
- outta sight outta mind 🫡
- sitting extremely far away from your spot in classes, changing which hallway routes he takes, getting to and leaving the cafeteria way before/after you
- it's a perfect plan, really!
- except you don't leave his mind
- no matter where he is or what he's doing, images and questions about you creep into his thoughts
- 'what do they like to do in their free time? they have a really pretty smile, i bet it attracts a lot of people... are they interested in dating right now? would they even be interested in a grey wolf, for that matter? how do they keep their fur looking so soft?'
- he even makes more time to hang around with haru to try reinforce his established attraction to just herbivores
- the only thing this really achieves is sending him into a spiral about how he's attracted to two different people now
- and when you get scouted into the drama club as one of the dancers, it's even harder to keep you out of his sight
- starts making slip-ups with angling the lighting correctly since his focus can't help but shift to you during rehearsals
- the others in the backstage crew actually start asking if he's alright because he never makes this many mistakes
- he thinks every movement you make is so graceful, controlled and confident,,,
- it's a testament to the way you own your strengths and effortlessly channel them into your skills; it makes it undeniably alluring to watch the way you move
- wait! no! it's normal for most carnivores to be good at the physical arts so it's not attraction, just admiration for how good you are!
- denial is a river in egypt,,,,
- this cycle goes on for quite some time until the first dress rehearsal
- "oh man, did you see how good [name] looks out there in their costume? what a hot bod, especially doing all those poses and bends during the dance routine! heh, what i'd do to get a piece of that... huh? hey, legoshi, what's got you all wound-up?"
- hearing bill talk about you like that and subsequently having to hold back from hurtling a mean punch his way, legoshi finally accepted that this was a feeling he had to address 💀
- despite the borderline obsessive pull toward you, he realizes he doesn't actually know you beyond being classmates and drama club members together
- eventually concludes the best course of action is to formally introduce himself and hopefully spend some time together
- figures it's also a good way to see if these feelings grow or fade the more he gets to know you, maybe it really is just some carnivore pack-mentality thing!
- best-case scenario is that he just really wanted to be friends with you so he can continue pursuing haru without worry, but only time will tell now...
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enjoy what i write? consider helping with my transition! 💕
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everythingne · 2 months ago
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little miss wingwoman (2) - ln4
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penelope continues you meddling through you moving into lando's apartment, and saving a christmas disaster from happening.
warnings/notes: implied complicated pregnancy for kelly, most are complicated as far as i've seen (i dont have kids so. dont yell at me.), also implied family tensions for the reader, i used this recipe for the pasta they cook!! ignore im posting christmas fics after christmas i do not care <3
(prev | next)
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Penelope gets to enact her first part of the plan a few days later. A small post-season dinner, just some drivers Max had been playing padel with earlier swinging by to help out Max with some baby stuff. You are home, of course, helping Kelly with some organization in the master bedroom.
You're struggling with one of the big thick boxes for toys, trying to build a shelf you'll have the boys carry into the room later. Most of the shelf was able to be paired together by hand, but a few screws at the end make you huff when you realize Max had taken the screwdriver.
Getting up, you wander to the bedroom where Penelope is watching the boys attempt to set up both the crib and the little handmade wooden mobile above it. Leaning on the doorway, your eyes naturally fall to Lando who is biting his tongue poking out of his lips in focus as Max curses over the screw being stripped.
Seemingly again, based on Charles' quick French quip as he digs in a box to find another screw.
"You're having about as much luck as we are." You finally find your voice, your eyes not leaving Lando's as he perks up, his tongue darting back inside as a rose dusts across his cheeks. Max sighs and hands you the screwdriver and you kneel down, jamming it in like a hammer until you basically brute force the screw into it's hole.
"And, if you don't need this, I'll be stealing it. I'm almost done with the bookshelves, we'll just have to secure them to the wall after."
"Yeah, just pull it in when you're done." Max says, thanking you for getting the screw in, before you're off to the other bedroom. Penelope stays behind for a bit, peeking into the room once or twice as you sit back down on the floor to finish the shelving.
It takes until you're on the last drawer for her to ask--
"Do you like Lando?" Penelope lingers in the doorway, and you just nod, eyebrows knitting as you get the loose screws to finally lock into place. You can hear Max and Charles celebrating getting something to work in the other room, Lando's laughter coming closer down the hall with his soft socked footsteps.
"I think Lando likes you." Penelope says with a matter of fact tone that makes you life your head, and Kelly tuts out a laugh, waving Penelope over. The girl happy smiles and runs over to hug a very sleepy Kelly, giving her mom's stomach a little kiss while she's at it.
"P, they're friends. Friends like each other." Kelly smiles, running a hand through her mini-me's hair, "you like all your friends, right?"
"But Mommy," Penelope scowls, climbing up to stand on the bed so she can lean into her mothers ear to whisper. You look down then, finishing up the last of the screws with a triumphant whistled sigh, overshadowed by Kelly's soft laughter.
"I'm being serious! I studied, and asked Maxie, and my teacher!" Penelope scowls, crossing her arms at her mother and just earning a soft laugh in reply. Looking over, you see Lando lingering in the doorway, offering you a smile as his hand to help you up.
"Pen said you need help moving this?" He asks softly, almost nervously, after helping to bring you to your feet with a warm hand in yours and resting on your bicep. You smile and nod, words failing on your lips. Your hand lingering in his longer than necessary, before you hear Penelope whispering to Kelly and you step back.
"Please," You say, smiling at the dimples that appear on his cheeks with his curvy lipped smile, "It's not heavy, just long. Max has the wall bolts in the nursery, so he can finish it in there."
"Sounds good to me, I'll get this side..." Lando walks off, and as you two move the shelves out of the master bedroom to the nursery, you cant help but laugh as the whole thing is so awkward to shuffle around. Once you get it out, Kelly lets out a cheer, and you look back to see Penelope wink.
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It's been a few days, and while Lando's off on a ski trip with Quadrant, he gives you free reign of his apartment since you really only have clothes to move in since all of your old stuff is between boxes in your childhood home and two or three boxes you bring down from Max's apartment. Lando leaves to catch his flight with a slightly nervous smile, telling you to make it feel homey, if possible. So after a Max sponsored trip to the stores, you fill the backseats of the Porsche Lando let you borrow from him with just about everything. New pots and pans to replace his old stained ones, proper cleaning supplies, and plenty of house decor.
You'd driven into France to go shopping for the bigger items, planning for some little furniture bits to be shipped around the holidays. Everything you text Lando about buying is met with enthusiastic pleases and thank yous and probably a concerning amount of money wired into your account via Venmo.
You're unloading as much as you can into the apartment, taking probably far too many trips up the elevator, when Lando calls you as you're in the midst of restocking his fridge with actual food.
"I hope this isn't going to ruin your day," He opens with and you feel dread fill your stomach at his nervous tone, because with Lando, it could, “my mom asked if I could host christmas this year… and I kinda forgot I said yes..."
"Lando." You deadpan, looking at the bare apartment, "oh my god."
"Listen! Consider this payback for the rent or something! She asked me before Miami, how was I supposed to remember after that weekend!" He groans and you cant help the laugh that bubbles out of your throat as you look back at all the things you'd bought.
"You have to help me not make this a horrid mess, I'd never live it down!" Lando laments, his voice pitching higher, "I'm finishing up with Quadrant early, and I'll be home soon after. I've got them all a hotel room, so we at least don't have to worry about that. But we need... well, to make my apartment look lived in."
"I got some stuff already, as you know, but I don't have to see Penelope until tomorrow so I can head back out to the shops--"
"An extra of my credit card is in my desk drawer. Consider it my gift," He stammers, "Shit, my Ma is gonna kill me if she realizes I forgot."
You laugh softly, "Listen, when are you gonna get home?"
"Tomorrow morning, maybe?" His tone is light, but the hint of panic in his tone makes you feel a little soft.
"Today, I'll get what I already bought in the house and set up. Tomorrow, when you get home, we'll figure out what else we need." You say softly and Lando thanks you profusely, promising to buy you a bottle of whatever liquor you want for your troubles, and then he ends the call. Leaving you standing in the kitchen with a soft sigh and laughter. The whole situation was just... very Lando.
It's not like you're gonna go home for Christmas.
The next day, Lando comes home to your changes. Throw blankets, pillows, pictures his mother had gifted him on the wall after forever. You're in the middle of making lunch when he stumbles in, yanking his suitcase along with him in a less than graceful fashion. You watch as his eyes widen at the little table and shoe rack in the entryway, the carpet that leads into the main area where the kitchen and living room are. The lamps that you've gotten to warm the lighting, the new dishes, the little knick knacks you must've found in a box or two in the spare room you'd set up. You've even taken all his helmets out of their cases on the floor and neatly displayed them in the case his Dad had built for him forever ago, the shelves to expand it resting on the wall besides the case.
It's... it's a damn home.
"Hey," Lando smiles as he walks in, finally seeing you in the kitchen. You blush, looking down as you realize he'd caught you watching his sweet reaction. The way you fit so nicely in his home makes something twist in his head, making him feel oddly warm, bubbly in his chest, as you smile.
"Hey yourself," You chime back as you glance up, "do you want a sandwich?"
"Sure." He says, "You... made this place really nice. I'm impressed."
"Thank you, here, grab a plate..." You smile and begin listing new things you wanna do, build the new shelves, put a christmas tree in the middle of the big bay windows in his living room, maybe some stockings under the tv, and of course string lights all over. You contemplate some cute little knick knacks on the shelves you've put up, oh! Some lights inside the shelves for his helmets to be shown off, too.
You rattle ideas all the way through finishing his food, and you settle the plates down. Luckily for Lando, you give him some gift ideas too. Things you'd seen while out at the shops, and you thankfully know most of the drivers in Monaco well enough to have an idea or two of what to get them, and you remind him to buy gifts for his parents and siblings and extended family as you set a simple sandwich and chips down in front of Lando.
Lando just blinks before sighing happily, "You're literally perfect."
It makes you nearly choke on your sandwich. And he stammers with red cheeks, "Well, you are, but I mean--I mean like... you're exactly the type of person someone who doesn't really know how to adult needs. You've got everything all figured out, y'know!"
"I'm a nanny," You deadpan, "And Kelly didn't really know much when I moved in with her when Pen was a baby. And Max's apartment... it was close to yours. Except, at least, he knew how to live like an adult and not have expired food."
Lando shrieks out a "Hey!" That makes you both laugh, and his laughter melts into yours. It all feels so natural, the way you both just stand there grinning over little sandwiches.
Hours later, after ridiculous amounts of shopping, and take-out dinner, you get to setting up the Hallmark movie you plan to turn his house into. It really doesn't take long for you and Lando to fall into a rhythm, and by the time his pauses on the couch turn into him falling asleep on the couch, you're almost done. You finish up the tree, shoving the gifts you'd bought for the Verstappen-Piquets underneath, before turning to Lando.
"Lando," you whisper, shaking his shoulder, "Hey..."
He stirs, murmuring something intelligible with a pout that almost makes you giggle. It takes another few calls of his name to coax him awake long enough to at least get him in bed. Even if he's still in jeans, you happy to save his back from the horror of sleeping sitting up like you'd done once or twice.
The next morning, Lando helps you make breakfast and with Christmas music and movies playing for some background noise, you pretty much finish up the entire apartment within the day. Lando leaves around six to get some presents for his sisters, and ends up video calling you to ask about jewelry. He gets Flo a beautiful little silver horse necklace, with a little custom plate with her horses name on the back, and after an instagram peruse you determine Cisca should get something bold in gold, and he settles on a nice piece of earrings for her. Oliver is a bit harder, so you let him call his Mom to find ideas while you finish up cleaning.
And when he comes home, you teach Lando how to wrap his gifts, somehow ending up in a big plaster for a cut he gets on his hand and tape stuck in your hair.
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liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell, kellypiquet, and others...
yourusername: everyone say thanks max and kelly for letting me take a week off so i could move into this random guys apt and make it look like a hallmark movie
tagged: landonorris
maxverstappen: you've done the unthinkable, make lando not live like a child
user: THEY LIVE TOGETHER??
kellypiquet: i need the skill you possess to make everything magical
user1: wait why is yn living with lando and not max??? is she not penelope's nanny??
-- yourusername: i still am her nanny dw!! with baby lion on the way I got evicted (rightfully), and lando lives in the same building and had an extra room he offered :)
-- user2: wait thats so cute
-- user3: romcom moment
maxfewtrell: THATS HIS APARTMENT?
-- yourusername: yes, you're welcome
landonorris: i feel a little attacked right now
-- yourusername: don't even try to get pity points, you had month old cheese
-- landonorris: in my defense i forgot it was there
-- yourusername: IT WAS MOLDY.
-- user4: prayers for yn
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On the 22nd, you get to watch Penelope for the day since Max is finishing up meetings before his break for the holidays and Kelly's mother is over considering she's feeling quite swollen and ill. You'd been there since the beginning, with the issues and the pain. Max and Kelly had struggles, and you had taken Penelope out plenty of times for days when the two just needed a breath.
Watching Penelope so Kelly can go to an emergency appointment doesn't feel new, but it makes you so anxious.
So you and Lando have her come down to your apartment, giving Kelly a much longer hug than usual and wiping away her stressed tears as Lando shows Penelope the new decorations in the apartment.
"It'll be fine." You say softly and she nods, giving you one more tight hug before her mother brings her along. Shutting the door behind you, the way Lando holds Penelope up so she can place the star on the tree is so undoubtedly domestic to you it makes you feel warm as you shut the door.
"Penny," You call, and her head whips around as you ask, "Did Kelly make you anything for dinner?"
Lando pops Penelope down on the floor and then turns back to straighten the star. Penelope runs to give you a hug, clinging to your legs as she announces that no, she didn't get dinner-- and, she wants to cook the 'spiced' pasta with you, Lando tilts his head as he slowly makes his way over in his sweats.
"And you!" Penelope grabs Lando's hand, dragging him the rest of the way into the kitchen, "Please Yn! Please?!"
"You're sure you want the spicy pasta? 'Cause half the time I end up eating all of it and ordering you food." You place your hands on your hips, and when Penelope all but cries for it, you agree. The 'spicy pasta' is a normal corkscrew pasta with a gochujang based sauce. You typically make it a lot hotter, but because both Lando and Penelope don't like spice as much you change the plan.
Penelope helps Lando salt the almost boiling water and chop up the shallots while you root through the pantry, eventually finding all the ingredients. You'd bought them a week ago, when Lando hadn't been home, and made it for dinner so you knew you had everything. Dragging a chair over, you let Penelope jump up to sauté the shallots, onions, and garlic in butter and olive oil with Lando's supervision while you gather some spices.
"Here, P, let me get in there." You say softly, and miss Penelope's knowing smirk as she jumps down and scoots the chair out of the way. You begin to pop down a smaller scoop of gochujang than usual, whilst Lando watches curiously.
"Wait so, what is this red stuff?" He asks, grabbing the container once you close it. As you infuse the ingredients, you softly explain.
"It's gochujang," You look over to Lando to find him already intently watching you, "it's like a Korean fermented, spicy, savory paste. I used to cook a lot with my first family I worked for in London, and they loved Korean food."
Lando nodded, "Have you always been a nanny?"
"I was an Au Pair first, like a live in babysitter while I was in secondary school. But I started to nanny Penelope right around when she was born and haven't left." You look behind you, as if expecting to see Penelope, but she's gone. You and Lando share a look, almost as if saying ' of course she ran off' before he chuckles softly.
You turn back to the pan and nod, "Lando, can you grab me the green bottle next to you?"
He picks it up as you lower the heat, and your cold hands brush his warm ones as your take the bottle. Heat rushes to your cheeks as you pour a little bit of the soju in, capping it, and stirring again until it all thickens up while Lando drains the pasta noodles. He stands besides you as you let him stir slowly as you add in half and half and parmesan cheese until it's make a thick sauce.
Dipping a noodle in to taste, Lando groans, "this is actually so good."
"It's my favorite," You smile, "A good old comfort dish, since I don't have any from my family."
Lando nods and helps you add the pasta to the sauce, mix it up, and set it in three bowls. Settling down to eat in the kitchen, you watch as Lando and Penelope chat. Smiling softly, you rest your head on your hand, giggling along with Penelope's stories from dance class, ignoring the way Lando's smile makes your chest tighten.
After dinner, Penelope asks to watch the live action Cinderella. You've seen it with her in the past, so you have no issue turning it on as Lando finds a little bit of candy for Penelope to eat during the movie--like a dessert.
Once the three of you settle down, Penelope forces you three to share a blanket and you end up between her and Lando on the couch. The beginning of the movie rolls by, but soon enough Penelope is asleep in your lap, leaving just you and Lando far too close for comfort.
But it grows comforting as the movie picks up, and by the time Cinderella has met her Prince, Lando's shifted to allow you to lean against him.
Maybe watching a romantic movie with a guy who makes you flutter, if even you're not sure why, isn't the best idea because the both of you catch each other's gaze more than once. Biting lips to hide smiles and thanking the dark lights for hiding you blush.
Luckily, Penelope wakes up before the end of the movie, and Kelly comes back soon after the movie ends. You help Penelope pack up while Lando cleans up the apartment, and when you go to drop Penelope off, your eyes catching Lando's makes heat rush to your face.
Shit.
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inkykeiji · 11 months ago
Text
⋆₊˚⊹♡ 𝐡𝐚𝐳𝐛𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐧 + 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮
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characters: vox, val, alastor, lucifer warnings: implied smut in some; 18+ minors do not interact, daddy kink (+ papi for val), toxic relationships, pet/master dynamic (for alastor), reader is a bit of a brat with vox, implied drugging the night before (val), praise + pet names, fem!reader, reader is carried in val’s words: 2.7k
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₊˚⊹ 𝐯𝐨𝐱 ⊹˚₊
You love mornings with your Daddy—truly, you do; love waking up next to him, slow and soft as his fingertips outline your features; love eating breakfast with him, feet kicking back and forth on one of the barstools as he prepares something simple for the two of you, know that he had to pull teeth to get the mornings off of work so he could spend them with you, getting you ready for the day and seeing you off—but there is one part, right at the very end, that you absolutely despise. 
Like everything with Vox, dental hygiene is a meticulous procedure, a rigorous routine with a set of immutable steps to be followed in the exact order Vox has laid them out in—carved into concrete, set in stone.
And, like everything else with Vox, no one knows how to perform them correctly except for him.
Still, it isn’t like you ever make it easy for him.
What else could he expect from his little troublemaker, really?
“Open up.” 
A thumb and a forefinger clamp down on the hinges of your jaw, palm wreathed around your chin, and squeeze, popping your mouth open with practiced efficiency.
“Daddy,” the word comes out as a stringy whine, slightly garbled, face crumpling in petulance. “Dun wanna.” 
Jerking a little in his grasp, you try to pull away from the advancing toothbrush slathered with translucent teal gel, and Vox clicks his tongue. 
“And I don’t care,” he says simply, fingers flexing in warning. “Good little girls need to brush their teeth—especially if they’ve eaten two bowls of sugary cereal for breakfast.” 
“But—”
Vox pulls back, face flattened into something serious. “Do you want cavities eating holes in your teeth?” 
“No—”
“Didn’t think so. Now hold still and let Daddy do this for you, yeah?” 
A groan vibrates on the back of your tongue, but your body goes pliant in his grasp, chin leaning into his pillowy palm.
“Atta girl,” he murmurs to himself, a small smug smile on his face.
Warmth blossoms in your chest, swells your lungs and stretches your ribs as you droop a little more beneath his praise and he chuckles, a fond little melody playing on his tongue, grip tightening infinitesimally. 
And he’s so precise with it all, maneuvers painstakingly perfect as he tilts your head one way, then the other, sure to scrub each tooth thoroughly, bristles scouring in little circular motions as he cleanses.
“Aaaah,” he hums, mimicking the action as he pries his mouth open wider, another praise falling from his lips as you instantly obey, allowing him to reach the molars at the very back of your mouth—brushing on top, on either side, behind, then on top again. 
“Tongue out.” 
Another whine sticks in your throat, brows pushing together and crinkling your forehead, open mouth downturned in a frown with a slight shake of your head, struggling against his hold.
“Come, now,” Vox chastises, but his voice is hard, fortified with a subtle threat. “You were doing so well for me—don’t start acting up, Daddy’s almost done.” 
His gaze holds yours steadily, a single eyebrow raising in question—are you really going to test me?—and you cave, again.
Reluctantly, your tongue unfurls from your mouth, face still scrunched in irritation as he scrapes the bristles across the muscle, working up a healthy lather, refusing to cease until that telltale disgruntled whine claws at your throat, evoking another one of those patronizing little chuckles.
“Alright, alright,” he’s pacifying as he tips a glass to your lips, a palm cupped protectively beneath your chin. “Rinse.” 
And, Christ, he loves how fucking obedient you are, even as the urge to misbehave bubbles behind your ribs, lips set in a deep pout as you follow his instructions, swishing a mouthful of water between your cheeks, waiting perfect and patient for his next order. 
“Spit.”
Oh, so compliant, so disciplined you are as you instantly spew blue liquid down the drain, a fierce sense of pride, of ownership, igniting deep within his soul, blazing bright and hot and strong, reflected in the amplified glowing of his eyes.
Your features are still scrunched up in a cute little pout, glaring at him through your lashes, arms crossed tightly over your chest.
“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” A thumb runs along your forehead, attempting to iron out the crease between your brows in a gentle caress.
“It was awful.” 
“Fucking brat.” 
And he just can’t help but laugh out the word, the sting the insult should bring instantly negated by the tender affection it’s smothered in, turned soft and melty on his tongue.
No, you never make such endeavours painless for him, but you do always make them interesting, and for that, he loves you, he loves you, he loves you.
₊˚⊹ 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐨 ⊹˚₊
It’s late in the afternoon when Val decides it’s time to get up, deep crimson light spilling through the narrow gaps in his thick curtains and painting thin, long strokes across the shag carpet.
He doesn’t bother formally waking you as two of his hands scoop you from the nest of silk and cradle you to his body, chuckling out a coo as you automatically snuggle into his chest, legs latching around his waist. 
The haze of sleep still hangs heavy in your skull, a soft protest grumbled into his skin as he carries you somewhere, lids staying firmly glued shut, body beginning to melt into his again as the bliss of unconsciousness entices you with promises of whimsical dreams and relief from your aching muscles. 
Cold marble stings your bare thighs suddenly, forcing a small jolt through your form, a soft hiss exhaled from between your teeth.
“I know, I know, it’s cold,” Val pacifies, his voice a pleasant fog curling around your cheeks as he leans around you, tinkering with something.  
“Papi,” you whimper, reaching blindly for him, lethargic head falling forward, forehead pressed tightly to his sternum.
“Mmm, I’m here,” he murmurs distractedly, two of his hands still wrapped firmly around your hips as the other set busy themselves with uncapping a tube of toothpaste.
“Wanna go back to bed,” you slur out in a whine, nose nuzzling into his chest, fruitlessly looking for a place to rest your head, dense drowsiness curling the edges of your mind.
“But it’s time to get up, princesa,” he chides gently, a finger tracing the curve of your cheek. “You’ve been asleep for fourteen hours.” 
“M’still tired.” 
A hum of contemplation vibrates at the back of his tongue as a hand twines around your jaw, examining your face this way, then that, before tilting your chin up.
“Maybe I gave you a little too much last night,” he muses to himself through a dark snicker. “It’s kinda cute that you’re still this fucked up, though. Can’t even open your eyes for me, can you?” 
And you try, really, you do, attempting to heft your leaden lids, features screwing up cutely with the immense effort, and Val coos again, as if your intoxication is so pathetically precious—poor little girl can barely handle her Daddy’s drugs! How sweet.
“Well, that’s okay,” he purrs, first pair of hands slipping further beneath his dress shirt—a makeshift nightgown, his favourite nightgown on you—and tugging you closer to the counter’s edge. “You don’t have to worry your pretty little head about anything; Papi will do it for you.” 
A sound of indignation sticks in your throat as you finally pry your eyes open, squinting against the harsh light of the bathroom, bleary gaze fixed on the sparkly pink toothbrush in one of his hands, face rumpling into a pout. 
Your lips press into a tight, firm line, sealing your mouth against the rapidly advancing utensil as your eyes slip shut again, weighted with narcotic-laced exhaustion, head shaking in messy little motions.
“C’mon, be co-operative,” the points of his nails dig into your skin, hard enough to leave superficial indents—a warning. “Don’t upset Daddy this early in the day, baby.” 
Wrenching your eyes open again, your nose twitches with a sniffle, chin beginning to quiver.
“But—But—Do I have to?”
“Yes, you have to,” he says, but his voice trembles with the effort to stay calm, to stay pleasant. “Your mouth is very dirty from last night, and it needs to be cleaned.”
A thick torrent of tears rush to cloud your vision, sudden and stinging, a hiccup stuttering your chest. The hand curved around your jaw tightens, yanking your face toward his own, foreheads knocking together.
“Now, open, before I make you open.”
Your jaw falls slack, a slave to his orders, unable to disobey a direct demand from its owner, and Val purrs, something wicked unravelling on his face, smile stretched sharp and sleazy from edge to edge, the glow in his eyes flaring with your instant compliance.
“Good girl.”
₊˚⊹ 𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 ⊹˚₊
Alastor, you’ve come to learn, has a plethora of odd regimes; stringently scheduled customs that are non-negotiable, that extend to you, including brushing your teeth. 
It’s become routine, now—habitual, as most things with Alastor are—and your days no longer feel right without it; weird, off, incomplete. 
Because it’s become something of a comfort; something so simple, yet so intimate, something calming and rewarding, something to look forward to—a moment shared between the two of you, twice a day, once at the beginning, and once at the end. 
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” you try tell him, the first time he insists on doing it, trying desperately to look over your shoulder as he ushers you into his ensuite.
“Nonsense!” he waves a hand in dismissal. “It isn’t a problem at all. Now, sit.” 
“Alastor—”
“Sit.” 
With a tiny frown, you perch gingerly on the edge of the bathtub, fingers curling around the rim.
“I’m serious,” you murmur, teeth nibbling superficially at the skin of your lip, wary eyes watching as he flits with practiced ease around the bathroom, a twinge of confusion settling in your chest, something akin to shame sitting thick and bitter on the back of your tongue. “I can do it myself…” 
“I know you can,” he replies simply, focused on depositing a strip of white toothpaste on your toothbrush. 
“Then…” you blink up at him, watching him advance with wide eyes, shoulders shrinking as he blankets you in his shadow. “Why are you doing it for me?” 
Irritation twitches at the edges of his grin, Alastor exhaling a controlled sigh.
“Because,” he begins, keeping his voice light, taking your chin between his index finger and thumb. “A good Master takes proper care of his pet.” 
His grip strengthens, tilting your face up further, his form looming over your own as you sit, vulnerable and exposed, beneath his touch. Crimson eyes glow as they scour your face, his back bent at an uncomfortable angle as he practically curls around you, the scent of earth and cedar tinged with copper wafting across your face with his calm, even breaths. 
“Besides,” he continues, voice dropped an octave lower, his nose nearly nudging yours. “I couldn’t possibly trust you to do it adequately.” 
A cruel little chuckle plays on his tongue, as if the mere thought itself is preposterous, the sound stinging as it seeps into your cheeks, hot and full of spikes. 
“Now, open.” 
Instantly, your mouth falls agape, and Alastor’s smile stretches infinitesimally wider, a sharp glint flaring in his eyes.
“A good owner maintains their pet’s hygiene,” he explains as he works, gaze fixed intently on his actions, cleansing with a meticulous sort of vigilance. “Bathes them, grooms them, dresses them—performs all of the basic necessities a pet needs to appear presentable.”
His hand shifts slightly, angling your head to the side, and you follow easily, malleable in his grasp, his smile shimmering. 
“And I pride myself on taking very good care the things that belong to me.”
And, really, he does. Because Alastor doesn’t just brush your teeth with rigorous care, conscientiously certain to cleanse every dip and gap; he flosses them, too, with gentle hands and painstaking precision, then ensures you’ve rinsed with germ-killing, enamel-strengthening mouthwash for exactly forty-five seconds, counting uniformly and observing with large, unblinking eyes as you adhere to his every instruction, cheeks bulging with burning liquid, eyes squinting from the intensity, but never daring to blink, to glance away, to stop at all. 
“Look at you,” he purrs after you’ve spit down the drain, gazing back up at him with a sort of desperate devotion—demented, devious, damned to his hell—syrupy condescension dripping from his teeth. “So well behaved for me, aren’t you?”  
A palm cups your jaw, his thumb running across your cheek in rhythmic strokes, the tip of his claw caressing your skin with just enough pressure to leave behind shallow scratches. 
“What, hoping Master will give you a treat for being so obedient?” 
“No, Sir,” you whimper out, voice gone dreamy as you nuzzle into his hand. “You taking such good care of me is more than enough.” 
Something sinister oozes into his face, something that contorts his smile and corrodes his eyes, leaving behind nothing but raw hunger, like he’s about to devour you whole, pops of static fizzing thickly in his voice. 
“That’s my good girl.” 
₊˚⊹ 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐫 ⊹˚₊
Everything hurts, muscles stiff and aching and full of sand, your motions clumsy and cumbersome as you attempt to brush your teeth, joints creaking with every slight shift.
Fatigue blurs the edges of your eyes, your vision fading out of focus again, mind gone fuzzy as you try your best to concentrate on your movements—up, down, all around, repeat—features screwing up in a wince as you catch the harsh bristles on your gums, again. 
“You’re making a bit of a mess, sleepyhead,” Lucifer’s tender chuckle pulls you from your foggy stupor, a quiet hum vibrating in your throat as you look over at him in question, the gesture lethargic and delayed. 
“You’ve got some—Here,” he says softly, hands curling around your shoulders and turning you to face him, then tilting your chin up. “May I?”
Another affirmative sounds on the back of your tongue and Lucifer uses his thumb to carefully clean the foaming paste collecting at the corners of your mouth, then catching a slow dribble streaming down your chin with a deft knuckle. 
A frown mars his face, his forehead creasing beneath the strain, his other hand stroking your shoulder as worried eyes search your face, slow and careful.
“Is everything okay, sweetheart?” he asks. “You’re really struggling to brush your teeth.”
“Jus—really tired,” you mumble through the bubbles in your mouth, Lucifer skillfully catching another trickle of watery paste, concern tugging at the corners of his lips, frown deepening.
“Do you want me to do it for you?” 
Sleepy eyes blink up at him, slow and sluggish, your hazy mind taking a moment to process the question.
“Mhmm,” you finally nod, hand loosening the instant his fingers skim yours, allowing him to gently uncurl your grip from around the base of your toothbrush, his own effortlessly taking its place. 
“Alright, alright, Daddy will help you,” he’s pacifying in a murmur, but his gaze has turned melty, glow dimmed and pupils gaping, lids heavy with love. “Poor thing…Last night was a long night for you, huh?” 
“S’a lot,” you confirm in a messy mumble, lids drooping heavily with the weight of exhaustion.
“Yeah?” his thumb rubs loving little circles into your jaw as he works, gaze trained on his task. “Was Daddy a little too rough with you?” 
The question is uttered out tenderly, full of sympathy and care, his brow furrowing as his eyes flit back to yours, searching for veracity in your pupils.
“Maybe I should be a bit gentler next—”
“No!” you cough around the refusal, puffy lids snapping open suddenly, the unexpected vehemency causing Lucifer to flinch.
“No?” he laughs, and it’s warm with affection, his features, hard with worry, mollifying beneath fondness, amorous amusement twinkling daintily in his eyes. 
“No,” you whine out with a tiny pout, head shaking a little in his grasp. “Please.”
“Okay,” the pad of his thumb runs along your cheek, his stare trailing after it. “If nothing else, at least Daddy will always be there to take care of you the morning after.”
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noceurous · 5 months ago
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a guide to dating in twenty first century
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now you’re on a second date with him, you’re not on his lap but he is between your legs
warnings: implied age-gap, swearing, mention of abusive behavior (not by joel or reader), mention of bad childhoods and life struggles, some angst, nicknames (baby), fluff, smut; semi-public sex(ish), fingering (f receiving), oral (both receiving), hints of dom!joel, daddy kink, minors dni (18+), reader is able-bodied, afab, and has hair.
a/n: sorry this took so long, real-life is a chaos and sucks but thanks to Portugal pics i’m so writing the third chapter now!
[part i]
part ii: the in-between
Going to movies was definitely not on your top three for ideal dates. You usually went to the movie theater with your mom who shared your love for overpriced, extra salty, greasy popcorn and never chit chatted during the movie. Or you just went there alone, enjoying it by yourself and your popcorn.
“Would you like some popcorn?” Joel asked while you were making your way to the screening room.
You texted Joel after two days. You were worried you made him think you were pressured by him. Even though you reassured him a few times it wasn’t like that, he was a gentleman enough to think it was better to give you some space.
After getting your text, he had invited you to a movie he wanted to go to. Saying he had an extra ticket since his brother ditched on him.
“Yeah, it’d be nice.” He motioned for you to go inside, gently pressing his hand on the small of your back.
“You go in and I’ll go get them.”
“I can join—” He raised his hand, pointing through the door.
“I insist.”
Soon enough he came back holding a large bucket of popcorn, and two sodas. You noticed his hands were large enough to carry them without any trace of struggle.
And he had thick long fingers which gave you one of your best orgas—
“Thank you again.” You said as he gave you the bucket.
“Are you comfortable?” He asked as he sat down next to you. Eyes scanning you for a trace of discomfort.
“I’m on a nice fluffy seat, I've got my soda and popcorn. Also I’ve a handsome guy in my company. I don’t see any reason to complain.” You said as you threw one popcorn inside your mouth.
“If you are good with the ‘handsome’ company, then I’m good too.” He said as he took some of your popcorn.
“Are you kidding? It’s the best part.” You winked at him, earning a small chuckle.
He leant to kiss your cheek. You acted before him, your lips pressing his before they could reach your cheek.
The kiss was sweet, and soft. When he sat back you could see the pinkish hue his lips got thanks to your lip balm.
Before you made a comment about it, the lights were dimmed all the way down, meaning you had to focus on the screen, not the handsome company.
The movie was a guy’s movie; full of action and no message to give, just something to enjoy. Maybe you could watch it again with your dad. Whenever you wanted to spend quality time with him at his man cave.
You jumped when the guy blew up the car, some of the popcorn was shifted inside the bucket. He placed his hand on your thigh. It was more protective than suggestive. You knew it was more like a reflex and he had no intention but since you had the brightest idea of wearing your shortest dress it was not that innocent for you.
You could feel the goosebumps forming on your skin, and dampness on your underwear. It did not take you too long to remember your previous date, and how you ended up on his lap.
Just focus on the MOVIE.
His hand was placed in a reasonable spot, a few inches above your knee. Fingers lazily drawing circles on your skin. You glanced at him a few times but each time his eyes were locked on the screen. You knew that he was aware of your gaze. His touch on you got tighter at times, fingers moving higher, halfway to reach your dress just before the first part of the movie was over.
You looked down at your lap, precisely focusing on the casually wandering hand. Saved by a second to get caught. “So? Did you like the movie?”
“It was… entertaining.” You said as you slurped your soda, avoiding his gaze. “I enjoyed it when the guy decided to steal his stepfather’s car, who blamed him for his mother’s death.”
He raised his eyebrow, “You didn’t like it, did you?”
“Not on my top three, but not at the bottom three either. Maybe next time I can pick the movie?”
He smiled, his tongue clicking on his mouth. You knew he liked when you gave him a green light for a second date. “Next time, I’ll let you choose the movie.” He nodded, his hand squeezing your thigh. You subtly parted your thighs, letting his hand move.
When the lights got dimmed again you two were still looking each other, taking in each other for a few seconds before the second half started.
You could feels his gaze on you this time. His fingers were slower, tracing the outline of your inner thighs, moving closer to the hem of your skirt.
You breath hitched, thighs parted slightly, asking for more. You bit down on your lower lip. Breathing through the nose and watching some guy got beaten the hell out of.
Joel’s fingers brushed along the hem of your skirt, waiting there, asking for a sign of approval.
You spent each night to make yourself cum like he did but you did not get even close enough to finish it.
Your body took over the control; you snuggled next to him, raising your hips a little. His fingertips disappeared under your skirt. You looked up to him, seeing the smirk on his face.
His middle finger traced your wet slit through your underwear. Pressing onto your clit, you almost jumped when the pleasure hit you like electricity. Your hand got on his thigh, your fingernails digging onto his hard denim.
He was playing with you as you did to him. You could feel his bulge under rough denim. Fingers dancing slowly on the shape, hearing his breath hitch when you pressed your fingertips on it.
He threw his arm around your shoulder, pressing your body closer to his. His other hand was still on your underwear, playing with the band of it.
You pressed your palm against him, gently stroking him up and down. He slid your underwear to the side, exposing you to him. You cursed under your breath as his fingers played with your folds.
You raised your head, pressing your lips along his jawline. His salt pepper beard trickled your lips but you did not mind. He turned his head, kissing you all he got as he pushed a finger inside you.
You bit down on his bottom lip, trying to not moan loudly and got attention. Thankfully the movie was loud enough and a few people chose that time-slot.
“Joel.” You whispered, placing your hand on his bicep. He didn’t stop, curling his finger inside you slowly pumping in and out. You sank down your nails on his skin, biting down on your lower lip to keep yourself quiet.
You kept palming him, trying to get your revenge but he had the upper hand. Your head felt heavy as your pleasure kept building and building.
The credits started to roll on the screen, and lights were turned on again. Joel pulled out his fingers just before people started to move. You both were smiling at yourselves for not being caught.
You got up quickly, holding him by his wrist, leading him to exit. Ditched your half finished soda and popcorn back there in your seat. Your mind was still cloudy from pleasure and you wanted to get more.
He pressed you to his groin as you walked to his car, afraid someone would see his now semi-hard bulge.
He liked the way you dragged him. He liked how you held onto him. He liked how you looked over your shoulder and gave him a small smile.
He loved your smile.
You were in his car, in the parking lot. You looked around to see if there were anyone around before you got inside. You quickly kissed him, moving onto his lap again. He pushed his back, giving you a space for you to move better. His hands were holding your ass over your dress, making you grind into him through his jeans.
“Fuck, baby.” He said, his hold on your ass got tighter. “If you continue to go like this…” He admitted, sucking on the spot under your ear.
“Let me suck you off, please?” You said, battling your eyelashes.
His chest fluttered with your request, he couldn’t remember the last time someone asked him this, if anyone ever did. Now his jeans were a bit tighter and his smile was bigger.
An eyebrow raised. “You want to suck me off?” He cupped your cheek, rough thumb tracing your bottom lip.
Instead of answering him, you took his thumb into your mouth, pressing yourself further on his lap. Your crotch was right on top of his bulge, your dress was lifted around your waist.
He cursed under his breath; raising his hips to feel your damp underwear. His one hand was still on your ass, taking a fistful. He knew if you pressed on him little tighter you would definitely leave this car with his fingertip marks.
“As much as I want to see my cock stuffed in your mouth— I don’t want to do this in here.” He said taking off his thumb and replacing it with his tongue. His hand was on the back of your neck, pressing your body onto him as he kissed you with all he got. You opened your mouth to him, letting his tongue devour inside your mouth.
You placed your hands at the back of his neck, fingers curling around the dark locks there. Feeling him melt onto the kiss.
He gently placed you back on the seat, kissing your temple. Your brain functions stopped, unable to process what he had just done.
“Let me drop you off baby. It’s getting late.”
“Okay.” You said nodding quicker than you want, trying to keep your eyes to yourself and not on his erection. You could heard how devastated you sounded even you only said one simple word.
The car ride was quicker than you expected, he probably crossed the speeding limit a few times. His one hand on the wheel, the other fixing his jeans, grumbling whenever he had to slow down.
Your hands were trembling when you put your key in the hole. His large hand placed on your hip, his erection was pressed on your ass. Poking you through your thin dress.
You didn’t know if he was doing this to hide it from people or to turn you on even more. His size was effective enough for both.
You almost pushed yourself inside when the key finally turned, the darkness of your hall greeted you.
You turned on your heels, pulling him closer to you by the collar of his shirt. Not wasting any time to kiss him. He groaned into the kiss, one hand found its place on your waist as the other pushed the door closed.
You tried to think fast, whether you should take him to your bedroom or your couch was fine or not. When he broke the kiss to take a breath. Leaning his head back on the wall, eyes glued to your heavily breathing figure.
Your hands unbuckled his belt, taking it off swiftly. You broke the kiss to get on your knees but he stopped you. “Are you sure?”
You were fooled by his question. Battling your eyelashes, keeping a soft smile on your face. “Yes, Joel. I want this.” You said as you got on your knees. The landing was not as gentle as you hoped when you got on your knees, the fibers of the rug hurt your skin. Taking a note to get yourself a fluffier rug.
Your hands were trembling when they got on his pant button.
You’re not even good at a fucking blowjob.
His hands were placed on yours, stopping you from pulling it down. “Take a moment baby, ‘m not goin’ anywhere. Okay?”
You looked up into him, seeing the soft smile on his face made your heart slow down. His knuckles caressing your cheek up and down. You saw how hard he was trying to hold himself.
You nodded, taking a large breath through your nose. Pulled the jeans down quickly, seeing his angry cock right in front of you.
Telling he was big was definitely an understatement. And he was not even fully hard. Your mouth salivating when you saw how shimy his tip was with the precum a thick vein underside.
You licked your lips, taking his cock in hand. He hissed at your warm touch, guiding it to your lips. He pressed the tip on your lower lip, smearing his arousal.
You gave it a long lick, tongue following its slit. He hissed when you gave him a quick kiss. Licking and kissing along his length; getting him as wet as possible before you took him inside your mouth.
“That’s it. Good girl.” He said as you wrapped your lips around him, and your fingers were wrapped around where your mouth could not fit.
You began moving your head slowly, working your hands alongside. You relaxed your jaw as you took more of him, his tip pressing at the back of your mouth. Your gag reflex triggered when his tip hit the back of your throat. You stopped for a second to give yourself time to adjust before continuing to suck him.
He was breathing through his nose, watching you between his legs. Your left hand was brushing along his balls at every stroke. Your warm mouth around his length. He could see how hard it was for you to fit him inside your mouth. You were breathing your nose, glossy eyes and some saliva leaving your mouth. It was even harder for him to not take control, not hold your head and move his hips. His nails dug into his palm, leaving half moon shaped marks.
He could feel him getting closer and closer to cum, trying to hold it as long as it was possible, savor the moment. But you were making it hard for him when you were looking at him like that. With tears around the corner of your eyes, taking him with all you got; sucking and licking.
You felt his hot cum shoot through the back of your throat and tongue, the familiar sour taste on your taste buds. You waited for him to finish before slowly taking him outside of your mouth.
His hands cupped your cheeks, raising his eyebrows. “Open your mouth.” He said and you obeyed him. Showing his cum pooled on your tongue. “Good girl, now swallow it.” He said, his fingers brushing along your hair, fixing the loose strands and tucking them back.
You felt proud when he called you good girl. You wanted nothing more to please him. You put your tongue back inside your mouth,swallowing all of the cum; opening your mouth again to show him you swallowed.
He chuckled, kissing you after you got back on your feet. “It is my turn to return the favor.” He said, placing his hands on your dress, guiding you to your couch in a few short steps. “Leaving you high and dry is a crime, baby.” He said as he got on his knees, pulling down your underwear.
You nodded along his words, lifting your skirt to show him your bare cunt, as he got on his knees. He smiled at your state, licking his lips before he pressed his mouth on you.
He wasn’t slow or gentle, he was like a starved man who got denied from pleasure for a long time. You were already wet from the second his tip touched your tongue. His tip flicked your swollen clit, you felt like you were electrocuted with sudden pleasure.
“F-fuck! Da-Joel!” You screamed, pulling on his dark curls. Saved by a second by calling him daddy.
He stopped to speak, brushing his mouth along your pussy. His scruff was itching but somehow he made it better.
He looked into your eyes and you saw the spark in his. The corner of his mouth turned into a smirk.
He liked it.
“You wanna call me daddy?” You nodded, raising your hips to his face. “Call me daddy.” He said feeling himself get hard again, continuing to suck on your clit.
You threw your head back, pulling his curls again. “Daddy, it’s t—too m—much.” You confessed, toes curling as the orgasm built on, sweat forming on your temples. You felt your face heat up when you got close to this soon.
Was this okay?
“You gonna come for daddy? Go on, show me what my baby does so good. Coming for all over her daddy’s face.” You did as he asked, letting the pleasure take over your body.
Crying down with your release as he pushed his tongue inside, lapping up your juices. Groaning at your taste, shaking your body straight from the core.
When you came down from your release, you let go of his head. Lying down on the couch half naked in front of him with your dress around hips.
You looked like a mess.
“You look beautiful.” He said as he put back your underwear and helped you to fix your dress back.
You weren’t ready for the sudden compliment, having a hard time to process when somebody actually complimented you post-sex. “T-thank you.” He kissed your cheek.
He pulled his pants up, tucking his cock back inside his pants. Leaning down over the couch to scoop out his belt. “Uhm, the bathroom is at the end of the hall on the right. You cannot miss it.” You said as you got up from the couch, looking at how his beard was shining with your juices.
He blinked twice then got up. “Want anything to drink?” You asked as you got on your feet, pouring yourself a glass of water. “Yes, please.” He answered as he walked down your hall.
You heard the light switch in your bathroom, nodding to yourself. Your feet slowly dragging you to your open kitchen, legs still felt like a jello after your orgasm. You rested your hip on the counter taking a moment to close your eyes and process.
“You have a lovely place.” You jerked when you heard his voice. Didn’t hear his footsteps or the light switch of the bathroom.
You smiled as he came from the corner and sat down on your two person kitchen table. “Really? It’s a bit different from yours, I have plants which need water and better sunshine.” You said as you pointed your Chinese evergreen across from your couch. “I have tea, herbal tea, coffee, some white wine..”
“Just a coffee is fine.” You lifted your head to your open cupboard filled with colorful mugs and glasses, taking out a butter colored mug.
“And many colorful mugs, as I see…”
“Yeah I even had one that says ‘life is too short to use boring mugs’. Sadly my fridge and cupboards are not filled with many ingredients, it’s mostly frozen food in the fridge. I can’t cook for shit.” You opened your coffee jar, the smell of freshly grounded coffee beans surrounding the room.
He chuckled, “I can teach you, not everything maybe, but if there is something you want to learn. I'd be glad to help you.” You took out a fresh filter paper, placing it on your small machine.
You shrugged, the idea of him watching you prepare a simple coffee was already making your stomach twirl. “No, I just hate cooking. It’s more stressful when someone is watching me.” You explained as you closed the lid and flicked the switch of the machine.
“Now, you know how I felt about our first date.” His voice stood out from the grumbles of the machine.
You turned to him. Seeing him looking at you with those thick arms crossed at his chest, hair slicked back. He was a sight, and you cannot imagine him stressed even for a second. “Were you that stressed?”
“A bit. But I knew what I was doin’. I’ve lived alone for more than two decades, baby.” You nodded, remembering your first year of living alone. You had to google a lot of stuff and he didn’t even have that privilege back then.
“It hasn’t even been five years for me, so no pressure I guess.” You said as you poured his coffee. “My mum didn’t know how to cook until I was born, she says I’ll learn eventually and she is a great cook.” You handed him his mug. Sitting down on the chair across from him. “And your mum? Is she a great cook like you?”
“She was even a better cook than me. She had to feed three men. I don’t think it was easy back in the day as it seemed. There were many times that we were short on money, she mostly had to come up with stuff. I had to start working right after high school, support them for a while until it was my time to move out, then it was Tommy’s. Soon enough we came up with Miller Construction, and here we are.”
You nodded along as he explained, wondering what young Joel was like. Who did he hang out with? How did he spend his free time? Who was he dating back then?
Was he confused about his purpose in life as well?
The last one is too deep, don’t ask him that!
“I‘ve had a friend who was close with my landlady so that’s how I found the place. Then I decided to move out.”
More like a toxic ex than a friend.
“You’re lucky. It took me around three years just to find a place, but I also own my place so I guess that’s normal.”
“Kinda lucky. My landlady is a bitch to me…”
“Really?”
“She never helps me when there is something needs to be fixed. Creates a scene when I miss to pay the rent by one day. She used to snitch on me to my bo—“
You stopped yourself when you realized you almost break your rule.
Never mention your ex unless asked.
“She is not a good person basically.” You explained; raising up to place your now empty glass back to sink. Turned your back towards him to take a deep breath. Closing your eyes for a second when the familiar memory flashed in your mind.
You’d be stuck in that small place with your mum for the rest of your life without me.
“Have you thought about moving out?”
“Nope. My rent makes her tolerable, I can handle her if she gets though. I have claws too.”
“I see.” He said as he nodded along, taking a sip from his coffee. “Call me if you need my help. I’ve been told that I’m a very persuasive person.” You both chuckled at that.
He got up and placed his half empty mug next to yours. When he stood in your kitchen like that, all broad and tall, it felt like somehow he belonged there all along. In his casual fit jeans and dark green plaid flannel, holding your butter colored chubby mug, it felt like this was your casual evening.
“Living in a big city is tough for everybody.” He added, placing his hand next to your elbow on the kitchen counter. Fingers brushing up and down on your arm.
“Yeah. I will call you, if she gets on my nerves again. Maybe a fresh blood for the battle is better.”
“Yeah maybe.” He agreed. “I’d be glad to help you.” He said as he leant in, kissing you.
The kiss was small, you tasted yourself and the coffee before he took a step back. Leaning his forehead on yours, he gulped before opening his mouth.
“I really hate to say this but I better get going. Have some stuff to take care of.” He said before kissing your temple, walking back slowly as he made his way to door.
“Oh okay, let me walk you out.” You said as you followed him.
“When can I see you again? I assume your schedule is pretty tight, with the wedding and stuff.”
“Yeah it’s in less than 10 days, but I’m pretty much free. I have this dress rehearsal in two days and that’s pretty much it. That and the wedding of course.”
He nodded along as you explained. “I hope it’s not too early but I have a cabin. I’ll spend this month out there.”
You felt like your heart shattered when he said he’d be away for a month. “Oh, it seems nice.”
“It is. It’s good for relax and stuff.” There was a moment of silence, you scratched the back of your leg with your feet. Unable to form a sentence.
So was this a goodbye-goodbye? Would you be able to reach him when he is at the cabin?
“After the wedding I’d like to take you there actually. At least for a few days, I’m in between projects and usually I go there and spend some time away from the city.”
He wants you! He wants you there!
“I’ll check in with work, had some pending leave days, if I can use them…” He cut you short, already smiling like a kid with a treat when he got your answer.
“Okay, I’ll be waiting to hear from you.”
“Sure. Drive safe.”
“Will do,” He said as he gave you a kiss on the lips. You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him back. Giving him a nice goodbye before he marched down the stairs.
He felt like he was more alive then ever when you said yes to him, mentally planning the trip and made sure to go and check the cabin before he brought you there.
You felt like your heart was beating inside your chest when you closed the door. You brought your fingers to your lips, still feeling his lips there.
682 notes · View notes
dollscotton · 10 months ago
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10:11 • ғᴇ̀ᴄᴏɴᴅᴇʀ (NSFW)
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♡ assistant!Hongjoong x witch!afab!reader
♡ academia, witch, smut
♡ WC • 3845
♡ Warnings!! (tags) • Sex potion, witchcraft, swearing, kissing, praise, spit/drool, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, edging, overstimulation, handjob, titjob, blowjob, manhandling, fingering, creampie, breeding, lactation, multiple positions, anal, knotting, semi-public sex, mutation, vampirism, reader wears long nails, reader has fangs, reader is implied to be shorter than Hongjoong. (pls lmk if I missed anything.)
♡ A/N: this isn't proofread, will do sometime in the future. féconder means fertilizer/pollinate in French if I'm not mistaken. Any French speakers feel free to correct me.
♡ ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ
ೋ❀❀ೋ═══ ❀ ═══ೋ❀❀ೋೋ❀❀ೋ═══ ❀
 The rain pattered on the window rather heavily. You and your assistant, Hongjoong were in your school’s greenhouse, while you finished up on your latest potions and he read to you.
   “It is the eve of St. George’s Day. Do you not know that tonight, when the clock strikes midnight, all the evil things in the world will have full sway? Do you know where you are going, and what you are going to?” Hongjoong recited, pacing slowly back and forth behind you. The novel ‘Dracula’ is in his right hand while his left hand rests behind his back. His glasses perched right on his sharp pointed nose as he tilted his head to the side continuing. “She was in such evident distress that I tried to comfort her, but without effect. Finally, she went down on her knees and implored me not to go; at least to wait a day or two before starting. It was all very ridiculous but I did not feel comfortable. However, there was business to be done, and I could allow nothing to interfere with it. I th-”
   “Yes come here, business,” You interrupted right then, beckoning him over. Hongjoong placed a ribbon in between the pages before closing the ages-old novel. He walked over to you until you were side by side, and he looked down at you.
   “Yes, darling?” He raised a brow a bit, watching as you poured a yellowish iridescent liquid into a rather small goblet. “What's this?”
   You handed him the goblet, looking up into his eyes, “it’s supposed to suppress arousal.” You inform, turning back to the pot where you grabbed a bottle to store the rest in.
   “It’s supposed to make me not horny?” He clarifies, looking intently at the potion. You nod in response, “Exactly.”
   “How long is it supposed to take effect?” Hongjoong takes a smell of it, it smells of Gingko Biloba, Red Ginseng, and Yohimbe. There’s also a dollop of a poppy scent in there too. “I’m not sure, we'll just have to see.” You reply, watching the rain pour outside.
   Hongjoong takes a swig, swallowing the potion that felt rather thick in his throat. The taste itself was bitter but sweet. He could get past it.
   “It tastes like…like-” “Anti-horniness?” You turn your head a bit to notice a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Very much.” He answers, smacking his teeth. “What purpose was this for by the way?”
   You paused, thinking about it. Truth be told you actually weren’t sure why, but you could list reasons as to why. “Hmm…” You trailed off. “Maybe for uh… people who struggle to keep it in their pants? I don’t know. People who struggle with sex addiction?” Hongjoong nodded slowly, “I guess that could make sense.”
   There was a comfortable silence passing for a few minutes before Hongjoong felt his slacks tightening. Was this supposed to happen? He believed not, the potion is an arousal suppressant. He opted to keep it to himself, figuring it would go away quickly and that this was just a part of the process.
   However, more minutes passed, and Hongjoong’s breath grew heavy as his slacks suddenly felt twice as small. He let go of his novel and looked down at the floor. “...Y/n?”
   “Yeah?” You kept your eyes on your own spell book, skimming through pages without actually reading them. Your back was faced towards him, bent over the counter. His eyes fell on your ass which your long, tight godet skirt shaped perfectly. His breath hitched, his skin growing hot.
   “I… I don’t think this is a suppressant, Y/n.” He states. His cock is visibly hard, fighting against his slacks.
   “What do you mean, Joong? I-” You turn around to see the view. His cheeks flushed red, visibly sweaty under the layers he wore. His hands gripped the counter, and he gulped. “R-Read that spell again.” He stutters.
   You grab the spellbook, turning back to the page where you followed the steps to create the suppressant. Looking at the header you creased your brows. “Joong, it says aféconder, that’s a suppressant.” You say, feeling bubbling in your stomach. Hongjoong felt his stomach tighten himself, he shook his head. “No… it can’t. Let me see the book.”
   He leaned over and grabbed the book, skimming over the page with a deep sigh. “... oh Y/n…” he closes his eyes, placing the book back down. “Y/n, this is féconder. The ‘a’ was a stain.” Hongjoong pinches the bridge of his nose, turning away from you.
   You felt your mind slap you right across the face, and you rested your head in your hands, propped on your elbows. Your hands ran across your face, and through your hair, as you let out a soft but low groan. “Sorry, Joong,” you whisper, and you feel his hand rake up your back. “There has to be a way to reverse it, right?” he mutters, his voice huskier than usual. 
   “There’s no spells in this book that could reverse it, I believe.” You reply, flipping through the spellbook. “But… but we could try something else…?” You suggest, turning your head to look at him.
   “Like…?” He trailed off, brows creased. You turn to fully face him, and hesitantly you reach for his trousers. “We could do this the natural way…” you whisper, not wanting to make it awkward.
   Despite Hongjoong’s obvious distress, he looks at you with an unsure look. “We’re in public, Y/n,” he says, looking around the greenhouse.
   “But no one’s around, right?” You also look around, the rain had gotten heavier, and the doors to the greenhouse were closed. It was just you, Hongjoong, and the plants, along with the dim lights inside.
   Hongjoong gulped, feeling the knot in his stomach twist more before he nearly whined. “Please help me…”
   You didn’t waste time, he looked miserable. Your hands fumbled with the button and zipper of his trousers, then unclipped his suspenders. Your long, black French almond nails raked against his stomach, making him tense up. Hongjoong looked down at you as you cupped his painfully hard bulge, his eyes then fluttering shut as you rubbed him with your palm to at least soothe him.
   He let out a sensitive whimper. His hand then grabbed your jaw, pulling you up as he swooned down for a kiss, encasing your lips in his. At that moment your hand squeezed at the wet bulge in his underwear, feeling the beads of precum against your palm.
   With your finger hooked onto the waistband of his black underwear, and with one swift motion, you tugged it down to his midthighs. Pulling away from the kiss you cupped your hand under his lips, making him spit all his excess drool into it before taking his leaking, wet cock into said hand.
   Hongjoong whimpered again softly. Hair was already sticking to his sweaty forehead due to how strong the aphrodisiac was. He felt like he could cum untouched, but at the same time, it felt as if everything was holding itself in. The tip was drooling and deep red as if irritated, and as you started to pump his cock into your hand you could feel the veins on his shaft pulsating. You looked up at him, his pretty pink spit-covered lips slightly agape. He breathed like he was making noises, but only small broken whines and deep breaths left him. Certain strokes elicited no noises at all, his chest tightening and making him freeze, breath caught in his throat.
   Your eyes visibly dilated at the sight. He’s so pretty it hurts. You’ve taken note of your long-time friend, who was also your assistant’s beauty before, but you opted to keep the relationship platonic. This… is platonic, right? Having his pretty cock in your hand as he silently begs you to take care of the problem you caused him with your stupid mistake. Your honest but dumb mistake. A part of you was lowkey grateful about your unconsciousness though, because then you wouldn’t be here so close to him, seeing the drool dribble down his chin and eyebrows creasing in pain and pleasure. You could feel heat pool at your core, slick dripping onto your panties.
   “You alright, pretty?” You cooed softly, your free hand cupping his shoulder, your thumb rubbing against the fabric of his dress shirt. He let out a subtle nod, whining like a bitch in heat. The noise made your clit throb, your hole clenching around nothing. “You’re so pretty, Joongie..”
   You picked up the pace, running your thumbpad over his slit every time your hand got to his cockhead. You made sure to let your long nails brush against his full, purple-hued balls, and occasionally you would swoop down to massage them for a few seconds before coming back up and pumping his shaft again. Hongjoong sucked in a breath, biting the inside of his cheek. Your hand that was once on his shoulder went to the back of his neck, pulling him in for another kiss.
   Hongjoong slid his tongue into your mouth immediately. You could taste the bitterness from the potion when your tongue slid on his, forcing it into his mouth and running over the roof. Both moaned into each other’s mouths, and you grabbed his jaw, pulling back to spit in his mouth. Hongjoong swallowed it without hesitation, his hands trembling as his grip on the counter tightened.
   Your grip on his cock tightened. Your fingers felt every vein pulsate under your touch, and the shaft twitched. Your thighs shut against each other, and the hot slick gushed out your hole onto your panties, making a wet spot. You could feel a weighed pool, the aphrodisiac now in your system since you kissed Hongjoong.
   Eventually, you let off and unbuttoned your black Lolita-styled dress. Crossing your arms your fingers pinched at the shoulders of your sleeves, pulling them down until your breasts were exposed. Leaving a gentle kiss on his jaw you grazed your fangs down his neck, undoing his button-up and taking it off him. Hongjoong’s skin was covered in sweat, red and hot to the touch. His nipples erect under the caress of your hands, the buds feeling hard enough to hurt without any stimulation.
   Lifting your skirt you kneeled before him, making him lean against the counter for a better angle. You pulled off the rest of the top of your dress, bunching it to your waist as you unclipped your bra as well. Hongjoong’s eyes fluttered open, and he looked down at you.
   “W-What are you doing now?” he stuttered, watching you drool onto your tits. You look up at him and his lost expression, shaking your head. “Helping you, Joongie,” you mutter, rubbing your saliva over the valley of your mounds. Your hands running over your nipples make you moan, your cheeks heating to a pink flush. Hongjoong stutters out incoherent babbles, and his words are caught in his throat when your tits encase his cock between them, your mouth sealing around the cockhead. Hongjoong’s lips formed an ‘o’ shape, drool falling and directly hitting your tits. 
   You start to move, tongue swirling and gliding up and down his slit and tip, the salty, pearly beads of precum leaking into your tastebuds. Your hands hold firmly onto the sides of your boobs, guiding them up and down his shaft as your mouth goes to work on the head. Hongjoong’s shaky hands move from the counter, one raking up to move his wet hair and the other firmly seated on your head.
   “Y/n,” He moans out prettily, petting your hair. Your eyes flutter shut, focused on making him feel good while also trying to relieve him of the rather painful aphrodisiac. You moan softly around his cock, the vibrations of your hum making his balls tighten. Hongjoong whines out a pathetic “mm’ sorry-” before grabbing your head with both hands and shoving his cock down your throat. Your tits drop out of your hands and you choke a bit, taking a deep breath through your nose as he thrusts rather soppily, creaking out little ‘sorry’s and ‘please’s back to back. His voice cracked a couple of times, whimpering out your name. You grab onto his thighs, nails digging into the sides of them.
   Your chokes and gags on his cock echo throughout the greenhouse. The rather humid heat inside makes you yourself sweat as your hair sticks to your forehead and cheeks. You swallow around his cock, his head rubbing against the wet, plush oropharynx. 
   “G- I- gonna- gonna cum Y/n. m’ so close m’ gonna c-cum,” he whines, his thighs tensing up. He unintentionally pulls on your hair, making you whine out as tears sting your eyes. Your teeth nearly bite down on his cock, the slight graze making him stutter his hips.
   ‘F-Fuck do it again-” he whimpers. You suck and graze your teeth again over the veins of his cock, and without warning he spills into your mouth. You pull off, choking. His hands move to his cock, jerking desperately as his cum paints your face and hair. You squirm on your heels, your heels digging into your ass. You open your eyes and watch the last of his cum leak out, and you felt your nipples swell at the sight. Like before Hongjoong now grabbed your jaw, spitting whatever aphrodisiac he had left into your mouth. You swallowed, it was fair game.
   Getting up onto your now aching feet you let your dress pool at them, leaving you in your lace white panties. Both of you breathed heavily, your head against his chest as your arms ran down his biceps. His hands cupped your ass, pulling down your panties as he pressed his knee against your cunt.
   You whimpered, his knee rubbed against your clit before he lifted you up, sitting you down on the metal counter. The heat made you wince, sucking your teeth. 
   Hongjoong gave you no time to adjust, he hooked his arms under your knees and dragged you to the edge, opening your legs up for him. “H-have t’ fuck you,” he muttered, his cock still rock hard despite cumming seconds ago. 
   Your eyes met, irises fully taken up with dilated pupils as if you two were cats. You whimpered, and he spit on his hand, gathering your juices as he slid his hand up and down your slit. He entered a ringed finger into you, the cold silver eliciting a hiss from you. Pulling out he entered a second finger, both his ring and middle fingers curling up inside you. His fingers weren’t all that long but it felt so good. He managed to find spots inside your spongey walls that you hadn’t touched without having to go deep inside you, he was skillful in this as much as he was skillful with his large grand piano that he composed his music with.
   Hongjoong’s cock rubbed against the metal counter, the hot metal sending shivers down his spine as he felt his cock swell.
   When you had enough, you pulled off his fingers, grabbing his waist and pulling him to you. Hongjoong got the memo, slapping his wet cock onto your clit a few times before slowly inserting himself into your hole, making both of you let out loud gasps and whines. Hongjoong was average, about five and a half inches, but you could swear that when he went inside you you felt him grow to at least seven, or eight. His newfound girth stretched you out deliciously, and his manicured, painted nails raked against your thighs. Tears pricked at both your and Hongjoong’s eyes. He sniffled, his nose turning a shade of pink.
   “Fuck,” You whispered, laying against the counter. Your eyes fluttered shut, letting a couple of stray tears fall. Your gummy walls fluttered around him a few times before he started to move. His hands went to your swollen tits, fondling and massaging them. His palms were sweaty and covered in cum, fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples turning the hard buds to an irritated shade of red. 
   With every languid thrust, he hit deep inside you, balls touching the rim of your puckered asshole. The squelching noise of him moving inside you along with the soft claps of his balls against your ass made you feel lightheaded. Your assistant sniffled again above you, hand moving down to your waist as he started picking up the pace of his thrusts.
   Your hands moved to your fluid-covered face, covering your teary eyes as his cockhead hit into your cervix snuggly. You sniffled, opening your eyes to look up at the man above you, rutting into your pussy like a pup in heat.
   “You feel so good,” He sniffles, swallowing down whatever pathetic sound he may produce next. His head is thrown back, then falls forward as a babbling whine leaves his lips. “Wan m-make you feel g-good Y/n.”
   He sucks on the two fingers he used inside you before and rubs them on the rim of your ass before gently pushing inside. You gasp, moaning out loudly as he starts to move them rather languidly compared to his thrusts. The feeling of his cock hitting the right spots inside you quickly and his fingers in your ass going slow made you micro-orgasm, clenching around him as the genuine knot started to build in your tummy. “J-Joong-” You whimpered, before fluttering around his cock as you came, legs tensed up and wrapped around his waist. “Fuck it feels so good,” you sniffle again.
   Pulling his cock and fingers out you quickly sat up, shoving Hongjoong to a nearby discarded chair. You stumble off the counter, holding his shoulders as you open his legs, and hike a leg over his lap. Grabbing his face you stamp your lips against his once more, sinking down onto his cock. Despite just being connected the stretch makes both of you moan into each other's mouths, Hongjoong letting out a guttural, broken cry.
   You started to hump your clit against his pelvis, but that soon turned into bouncing heavily on his cock. The sound of wet slapping skin resonated loudly throughout the greenhouse, along with a now sobbing Hongjoong along with you. The rain attempting to drown out your sounds was almost futile, your head spinning and ears ringing. You didn’t want to stop, and neither did he. He pulled away from the kiss and grabbed your hips, guiding you up and down his shaft at his own pace.
   “Joong!” you cry out, holding the top rail with tears streaming down your flushed cheeks. His hands were firm on your hips, fingers tight enough you were sure it would cause bruising tomorrow. Your ass collided with his thighs harshly, causing red marks to appear on your plush and flushed ass cheeks.
   Lifting you and slightly hurling you over his shoulder, Hongjoong held your thighs, keeping your legs apart as he began pistoning up into you. You moaned at the sensation of being filled, physically feeling your womb protrude out from your stomach.
   Sitting you back down on him you started to bounce again, rather sloppily this time. Your lips formed in a pout as you whined, hums being produced every time his cockhead met your cum filled cervix.
   “D-Don’ wan’ stop,” you murmured, lips pressed against Hongjoong’s sweaty forehead in a sloppy forehead kiss. His black dilated eyes were glued onto you, tears also running down his cheeks. 
   You began grinding in circles, smothering his cock inside you. You both moaned out sweetly, fangs digging into your bottom lip drawing blood. Hongjoong reached upward, grasping your bottom lip with his teeth as he suckled on the blood. His tongue ran over your bottom lip before pulling away, looking up into your eyes. You started to bounce again, feeling your second orgasm impending.
   “all over y-your cock, Joongie,” you babble, your swollen lips blabbering nonsense as you clamp down onto him, the heavy bounces building up again.
   “Cum, please cum,” you whine, holding your orgasm back. “W-wan it all inside me.”
   Hongjoong started thrusting up again, syncing up in time with your bounces. It didn’t take much, as he started to spill inside your cunt once more, taking one of your breasts into his mouth. He suckled, and as you let go, milk flowed freely from your erect nipples. Hongjoong moaned at the sweet taste, lapping it all up.
   You shivered at the sensation, and Hongjoong pulled away with a pop as he flipped you over, bending you over the counter. With a smack to your ass, he entered your pussy from behind, grabbing a hold of your hair. “C-can’t stop-” he sobbed, pounding into you with no sign of slowing down any time soon. “Gonna keep cumming inside your fucking pussy.”
   “Please,” you whined, shutting your eyes. Your leaking tits raked against the metal counter, painting it a transparent white with your milk. Hongjoong’s hands sneaked from behind you, reaching around to grab your tits. Squeezing them, he pulled you up against his chest, his pelvis meeting the sore, red skin of your ass. Nonstop was he cumming again and again back to back. Your womb visibly protruded, sticking out like a sore thumb. He wrapped one arm around your tits, the other snaking down and feeling at your tummy, feeling the way his cock slid up and down inside you. 
   You came again for a third time without warning, legs shaking. Your eyes rolled back to the inside of your head, and a fourth came on when he didn’t stop.
   “O-oh- oh fuck!” Hongjoong cried, stilling inside you. You fell forward, grasping the counter. You felt his cock literally knot inside you. It grew in size and locked in you like a key. Cum filled you to the brim, you felt like you could vomit from how full you were. Hongjoong was shaking behind you, and he fell forward as well, arms caging you. 
   He whimpered softly, sniffling. Heavy pants and sniffles were shared between you as the last of his cum was milked from him. He finally started to soften, and slowly pulled out of you as your minds went back to being levelheaded. His cock departed with a soft, wet pop, and loads of cum pumped out of you in what felt like gallons onto the floor below.
   “Gosh…” He breathed out, taking a deep sigh. Your legs trembled, and you, exhausted, kept yourself laying forward on the counter.
   “S-So full,” You murmured, the last of his cum spilling out before your womb felt relieved again. Your skin cooled down, the aphrodisiac starting to wear off on the both of you.
   Hongjoong gently scooped you up and sat you down into his lap, as you both regained clarity. He nuzzled his nose into your hair, closing his eyes.
   “Thank you,” He murmured softly.
   “I'll be careful next time,” you murmur back, taking deep breaths.
   “Yeah, make sure it's afèconder, not fèconder.”
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yankpop · 6 months ago
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Yandere BTS OT7 - Mistake
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DISCLAIMER: This is a FICTION work only made for entertainment purposes that includes yandere/dark. I do not support or encourage any type of abusive behaviour. 
SUMMARY: You make a big mistake and now you deal with the consequences.
Check more: Masterlist.
OT7 x Female reader
WARNINGS: Implied Kidnapping.
AN: I really made Jimin the bad guy here, but I hope you guys like it 💖
--
You hold your breath for a solid minute, staring at the door as it shakes.
The banging on the door progressively gets more violent as the loud commotion outside of the bathroom you just locked yourself in increases. 
The realization of what you did slowly starts to hit you. 
But you know very clearly how badly you’ve messed up. 
“Y/n! Open this door right now!” Hoseok and Jimin yell, angry voices mixing in. 
“Open it right fucking now!” 
“Don’t you dare ignore us!” 
You wince as a hard punch is thrown at the poor door, silently thanking the strong wood for withstanding the boys’s wrath. 
It’s the only thing keeping you safe from a horrible punishment, although you’re not stupid enough to think you can spend the rest of your life hidden in the bathroom.  
“What is going on here?” a new voice joins, overlapping over the rest of the angry voices, and you guess it’s Namjoon from the deep timbre. 
“Look at this, hyung! Y/n tried pushing Jimin down the stairs and now she’s locked herself in the bathroom.” 
You can practically see Namjoon’s brows rising in disbelief. 
The handle moves and upon realizing that the door is indeed locked shut, there’s a new knock on the door, although this one is much softer than the previous ones. 
“Y/n? Is this true?” he questions you, voice laced with disappointment. “Did you try to hurt Jimin?” 
Hot tears prickle your eyes as the struggle to hold them back proves itself to be worthless.
They’re gonna get so mad at you. They’re gonna hurt you.
“N-No.” 
“Liar!” Jimin cuts you off, and you jump at an unexpected fierce bang to the door. “I was trying to be nice and you fucking pushed me away!”
His explanation is twisted and it awakens flames of annoyance inside you. 
Jimin is not someone you would rank highly when it came to the boys, despite having no clear favorites amongst them.
You hate them all.
They’re all kidnappers, for all you care. But Jimin is particularly pushy when it comes to you and you hate him dearly for that. 
“You’re the liar!” you scream back, still maintaining a safe distance from the door. “You…Why don’t you tell the truth, you asshole?” 
You don’t wait for him to reply before continuing. 
“Namjoon, he tried slipping his hands underneath my shirt.” you sniff, cringing at the fresh memory of Jimin’s cold hands sneaking around your belly, starved to touch any inch of your skin. “He touched me, so I pushed him. He- I didn’t realize the stairs were so close, okay?” 
There’s a moment of silence. 
“Jimin-ah, why would you do that?” 
The muffled question from Jin has a light spark of hope igniting in you. Jin is one of the nicest, he’ll surely understand your situation. 
“I didn’t grope her! It was barely a touch!” 
“Jimin…” Namjoon sighs, clearly having doubts over the younger boy’s dubious explanation.  
“Hyung, I’m telling the truth! Y/n is the one lying!” Jimin argued back, his heated temper making his voice rise. “She’s just making excuses for the fact that she tried hurting me. She’s the one who went crazy on me and tried to shove me down the stairs.” 
“I didn’t-”
“She was probably hoping that I’d break my neck or something.” The malicious tone that Jimin uses upsets you. 
“I already said it was an accident!” you try to defend yourself.
“It didn’t look much like an accident.” Yoongi contradicts you. 
“Yeah, it really didn’t.” You shake your head at Jungkook’s words, feeling yourself getting slightly hysterical. 
You want to scream and shout. Of course they’re gonna take Jimin’s side. 
“It was an accident!” your voice is considerably aggravated, and it shows. “I didn’t mean to!” 
“Then come out.” Jimin challenges you. “What are you hiding for, if it was an accident?” 
You ignore him. 
The boys argue back and forth, with Jimin vehemently insisting it's all your fault against Jin and Taehyung, who try their best to minimize your actions. 
Finally, when the argument threatens to escalate into a fight, Namjoon intervenes.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, guys. There’s no point in fighting like this. Let’s solve the situation like adults.”
There’s a softer knock on the door. 
“Y/n? Can you please come out?” 
You don’t even think before throwing a loud no. 
“Sweetheart, please, we’re not gonna hurt you.” Jin tries.
“Speak for yourself.” Jimin’s voice isn’t low enough to go unheard, and the hair on your arms rises at the implicit threat.
“Jimin!” several boys hiss. 
“Baby, please, just come out!” Taehyung begs. "We can talk things out."
“Y/n, we just want to clear up the situation, okay?” Namjoon tries again, using a pacific tone. “No one is punishing you without having the whole story, I promise.” 
You shake your head, heart pounding in your ears as you walk further away from the door. You don’t believe him.
In the end, they’ll hurt you. You know that. 
Curling yourself into the small space next to the bathtub, you bury your face in your arms.
Any previous anger and energy you had is now fully drained, the seriousness of your situation making you dwell into a light depression. 
You’re tired. So fucking tired of them. 
They’ve turned you into a captive, took away all of your life choices, stripped you away from your freedom. All for a poor excuse of love, as they claimed it. 
Obsessed freaks, that’s what they truly are. 
You cover your ears with your hands, blocking away their circus of begging, threatening and bribing. 
You’re not opening the door. 
It takes less than an hour for them to finally get inside the bathroom. 
By then, you’re slightly more anxious, having cried all the tears you had and yet new ones are ready to spill when Jungkook and Jin’s combined strength finally breaks the door down. 
As already expected, Jimin is the first one to stride in, closely followed by the rest of the boys. 
But what scares you the most is the terrifyingly sly smirk that he dedicates you as he bends down. One of his hands grips your hair, aggressively pulling your head back as he leans down to whisper on your ear. 
“I don’t care what Namjoon hyung said before.” he says, “But you’re getting punished. We’ll see if you can even walk after what I’m about to do to you.”
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angelyuji · 18 days ago
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LADS yandere headcanons
sorry that some of them weren’t long, i didn’t want to make the post too long :( but hey!!! caleb day!!!! guess who got to welcome caleb home after 200 pulls!!!! (imcryingrealtearsrn) tbf i have almost all of his 5 stars and a couple 4 stars now :) all of my saving up helped thankfully
i didn’t write any nsfw but i have some ideas for the characters…. so lemme know if u want it :)
tw // yandere, kidnapping, violence (physical, emotional, mental abuse), manipulation, fauxcest, implied noncon and more, just general freaky nasty stuff
zayne:
zayneer;speojfso;ias doctorrrr doctorrr i think i sprained my ankleee gimme a full body checkup pleaseee ;)))))
he’s very cold to you, but like its just cuz he loves you so much he doesn’t want to scare you away with his actual feelings (thinkkk tsundere)
soooo overprotective over your health and safety
he wants you to quit being a hunter and stay at home, safe from danger
he’ll eventually convince you too, he’s so manipulative, using your heart condition against you
he wants to take care of you until he dies, a giverrrr in more ways than one *wink wink*
he wouldn’t kidnap you, but will convince you to move in with him (probably by saying smth about how it’ll be easier to keep track of your heart and care for you)
you trust zayne a lot easier than xav, raf, and sy becuz he’s your doctor and also your childhood friend (similar to your relationship with caleb) and he’ll use that to his advantage
now lets talk about doctor zayne’s behavior hehehe
in reality, yes everything about your relationship is against doctor-patient rules and all that but like who gives af yk
doctor zayne is the type to prefer doing your weekly check-ups at home in private
and by weekly check-ups i mean not just a regular physical, but a full body check-up
he’s sooo anxious about your health that even if violates your boundaries, he’ll strap you to the bed and snap some gloves on to feel every part of you
(for your health of course, def not cause he wanted to feel your warm skin without you struggling)
rafayel:
THIS MOTHERFUCKERRRR BRO
hes the clingiest person ever, he quite literally never gives you a moment of peace
constantly calling you, never leaving you alone.
he’s very bright and cheery whenever he sees you
but he’s very cold and mean to people he doesn’t care about, he’s very manipulative in that sense
raf is def, in my eyes, kinda the spoiled brat type
he hates when you say no to him so he pretends like you didn’t
if he asks you out and you tell him you can’t cause you’re busy, he’ll make up some excuse to get you to him
whether it’s calling your work and saying he has an emergency or calling you and guilt tripping you, he’s going to get his way no matter what
rafayel would most definitely kidnap you if he feels like you’re not giving him enough attention
like too many dates canceled, too many friends keeping you busy
he’s OVERRR ITT. you’re his inspiration, his muse, his very reason to live so he wants to keep you as close to him as possible
if that means keeping you chained up in his bedroom… then yeah he’s keeping you chained up babes
he’s very hot and cold with you as well
if he’s happy with you, he’s showering you with affection and love. being a silly goofy goober as they say
but if he’s mad at you, he’s cold to you and cruel
raf can be really fucking mean to you but the moment you retaliate, he’s shocked and like “why would you say that :((((“
raf is similar to xavier that he’s clingy, but raf is more confrontational with you. he will accuse you of cheating and force you onto your knees to show him how sorry you are. (he’ll also go and make sure that whoever it was that was taking your time and attention, never gets to talk to you again)
very much a pathological liarr
as much as he is annoying (i say affectionately), he’s constantly looking for your praise
wants you to compliment him and be comforting him at all times
and he’ll force it out of you if he has to.
xavier:
i feel like xavier is the most yandere of all of them like even in canon (this was written before i caleb’s trailer lmao. he’s 2nd most yandere now lolol)
he’s constantly stalking you. finding out who your friends are, what your daily schedule is, what shampoos and soaps you use
you’ll constantly feel like you’ve seen him at the store, but when you go and look, he’s not there (he’s done that before in game lmao he’s so cute)
xavier to me is also a typical yandere but more self-sacrificing. (i saw a tweet about xav and caleb where someone said they’re both yandere lovers but xavier is selfless and caleb is selfish and that perfectly encapsulates what im thinking)
very sneaky sneaky guy
he would kidnap you but that’s a last resort
he mostly just wants your attention and praise so only if he feels that you’re in danger, he would kidnap you
he’s very sadistic when it comes to people that try to take your attention away from him (will torture/kill a guy if they try anything with you)
he’s a jealous and petty i fear
if he feels like you’re talking to some rando too much, he’s immediately at your side, arm around your waist and glaring at them
my little star my cutie pie it’s hard to not fall for his innocent words/behavior becuz he speaks with such an airy voice and cute face
does unhinged shit with a cute smile and you’re usually blissfully unaware (or at least pretending to be), believing xavier def didn’t kill that guy you always say hello too on the way to work
it only gets worse from there once he realizes you’re letting his crazy slide
sylus:
sylus is very gentle and teasing in game and i feel like that also transfers to his yandere version.
contrary to his looks, sylus is not a violent yandere. because of the nature of his work, he doesn't want for you to be involved or see that violent side of him ever.
he's most def a sugar daddy type, very possessive. he wants to know where you are and who you're with at all times.
but he’s not like scary macho man about it, he’s informed you of how dangerous the N109 zone is so you know that his possessiveness is out of fear for your safety
he has most def put a tracker on all your clothes and electronics
if you are and want to continue being a hunter, sylus will support you
the only reason sylus would try to stop you is if you get mortally wounded, then he’s like “yeah no, kitten. you’re staying here with me where it is safe :)”
i feel like sylus would only kidnap you if the situation is that dire for him
like he’s fighting for his life for your attention and you’re giving nothing. he’s gonna be like “omg kitten, why are you not getting the hint :(“
alsooo he’s such a tease like theres nothing he loves more than constantly teasing you about everything
when he leaves for gang leader stuff, he gives you free reign on his black card as well as the house
he does not gaf if the whole house is pink when he comes back as long as you’re home
loves loves loves dressing you tho like he loves buying you clothes and dressing you up like his personal doll
my cute little sugar daddy
caleb:
i’ll be following the canon story for caleb’s headcanons
you guys grew up together, keeping each other safe and being each other’s best friend
and caleb had been in love with you since the moment you guys met
he def toed the line a lot when you guys were kids: making you promise to marry him and telling you that he’ll never leave you and that he would hurt himself if you left him
which at the time, didn’t worry grandma. I mean, you were all he had and vice versa so its not surprising that you’re both so attached
but as you guys grew up, his obsession with you worsens
he sabotages your relationships, keeps a tracker on you at all times, and have crossed a lot of your boundaries
but then caleb “died” and you lost your best friend.
caleb, i feel, is a very core yandere. like if you search up yandere in the dictionary, his picture shows up
he is obsessed with you to the point that it’s unhealthy for the both of you
some of his lines remind of jumin han’s bad ending 2 (from mystic messenger)
like this mf wants to collar you and keep you in a cage so you could never leave his sight. he wants you to be safe and there with him at all times
he would def kidnap you to do exactly this
he most def stalked you btw after he came back from the “dead”
he watched and stewed in jealousy as you interacted with the other LI’s. (yes i know that all the love interests stories are happening in different universes simultaneously but just for this… for the angst)
he hated when you went on dates when you were young, so seeing you again after so long just made his obsession and his hatred worse
he would try to threaten and kill anyone that stood in his way to have you
(also the ARM???? OKAY WINTER SOLDIER!!!) (im hoping the arm is a permanent feature but i wont get my hopes up)
when you guys were younger, caleb def snuck into your room to steal your clothes or anything that had your smell and he most DEFINITELY still does that
i honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he had a full-on shrine for you that kept him going until he could see you again
anyway the lines are kinda blurred on the familial relation, cause in the game, he talks about how although you guys were technically siblings, neither one of you considered each other as siblings
but i’ll leave it here with this, you guys lived together in your formative years so you most definitely experienced and learned (wink wink) a lot with caleb before anyyyyy of the other love interests
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azazel-the-eldritch · 2 months ago
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I had a thought recently: Silver the Hedgehog has to be one of the strongest characters in Sonic canon in terms of raw power.
It's often shown that he can use his psychokinesis to do some crazy things like fly, levitate, throw energy blasts, sometimes teleport, and any time he manipulate or moves things with his mind, it takes so little effort or energy to do so. Even things as big as buildings don't take much for him. Granted he does need to keep his focus on those things, but never seems to strain himself that much, if at all.
Upon first crossing paths with Sonic, Silver is dog-walking him. As much as we all shit on that boss fight, I'm convinced that's how it actually went in canon. Like yeah, Sonic is fast and knows how to scrap, but getting close to Silver just means getting caught in a psychic field and being yeeted across the arena.
It's implied that he's at least as powerful as Shadow, and seems to be just as naturally attuned to the Chaos Emeralds as Shadow is, evoking Chaos Control in a fit of rage after seeing Shadow do it once . And a lot of the things he can already do naturally are things Sonic and Shadow would need to go Super or use Doom Powers for.
That last bit makes me think about how the Chaos Emeralds, and by extension Master Emerald, are often lauded as "turning thoughts into power". And then you have Silver, who's whole power set revolves around thoughts being his power.
The biggest hints we have to his upper limits are the whole two times he has gone Super in the main series. The first time, he was aiding in fighting a rogue time god across multiple futures, handily throwing all of its attacks back at it. The other time was during the climax of the Metal Virus arc of the IDW comics where Super Silver just... psychically pulls the entirety of the virus out of the planet and its inhabitants, thus curing them, with what seems like minimal effort. He just... did that.
And all this power, all this world bending mental prowess in the form of a teenage rodent who was born in an apocalyptic future who is equal parts kind optimistic bean and seething hair-trigger crashout. And he has anxiety and struggles with self-worth, so there's that.
I love him. He is my son.
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mythicmanuscripts · 6 months ago
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What about sub!aemond and his giant praise kink? I love how you write him
Okay yup, yeah absolutely I can. You are very very correct this must be discussed.
While this is mostly just very soft and fluffy, there are definitely some sexual undertones and implied sub!Aemond so bare that in mind before venturing below the cut :))
It’s a shock to absolutely no one that demons doesn’t receive much praise, and that he certainly doesn’t receive any real meaningful praise and approval.
When he first gets this from you, he doesn’t really know what to do with himself? He understands why you praise him if he does something for you, and it makes him blush and struggle to hide his smile because he knows he’s been good. But, when you praise him and he hadn’t done something? When you praise him just for existing? He has no idea what to do. He’s not used to approval coming without any prerequisites.
You notice this pretty quickly, in fact you notice it before you even wed him. You see the way his eyes widen when you acknowledge him, how he has to look away when you first complemented his knowledge of Targaryen histories.
After the wedding, you decide to investigate this side of your new husband more. You kept things polite and proper during the wedding, both for your own reputation and because Aemond looked so award that you feared he may gently just shatter into a million pieces if you pushed him at all.
You don’t consummate the marriage that night. You intended to, but Aemond is so stiff, so clearly uncertain and scared. You sat with him on the bed and asked him to tell you about the Targaryen histories again. He smiled as he spoke, and he blushed every time you complimented him. As much as he was embarrassed by his reactions, he couldn’t bring himself to leave the room because this was much too good to pass up.
You two keep this tentative dance for a while. Aemond is very clearly hanging onto your every word, tripping over his own feet to try and obey you and receive more praise and attention. You give it to him freely, both because you want this marriage to be successful and because you don’t think he’s ever known support before.
You start to realise just how much he loves doing things for you. Not just orders, but just any service? He loves fetching you a cup of warm milk from the kitchen before head, and no matter how many times the servants in the kitchen tell him that they can bring a cup of warm milk to you every night, he always tells them not to. He genuinely loves the whole process, from heating the milk to carefully carrying it upstairs to placing it gently on your bedside table and then finally, seeing you softly smile at him and thank him, telling him he’s the best husband you could have ever hoped for.
He always gives you this sweet, flustered smile before he retreats to his own quarters. He’s not quite ready for bed sharing yet, but he also can’t bring himself to go to bed without knowing you’re pleased with him.
As you two start to get closer, start to understand each other better and enjoy each other’s company, there’s a kink in the road.
Allicent decides to invite herself to dine with the two of you. You already know what she will discuss, as she had been hinting it in conversations with you ever since you married Aemond. She wants Aemond to produce an heir, she wants to know why you aren’t pregnant yet.
Aemond doesn’t know that this will be the topic of conversation, and you’re very worried about how he will react. Because the truth is just that he has shied away from anything beyond kissing, so producing of heirs isn’t really possible at the moment.
When you arrive to dine with allicent, the servants have put all the food on a table next to the dinner table with plates and cutlery. You’re clearly supposed to go and take what food you’d like and then sit down at the table.
Before you can even walk over to the food, Aemond is pulling a chair out for you, telling you that he’ll do it for you. You smile at him and let him do it, understanding that he’s undoubtedly nervous about meeting with his mother and wants to know he’s done something right.
You thank him when he hands you the plate, telling him he’s the perfect gentleman and husband. Aemond blushes and smiles, mumbling “thank you, my wife” under his breath before he turns to dish up his own food.
Allicent sees this, and she speaks up. She asks Aemond if he’s always having to do everything for you, and she asks you if you’re trying to manipulate her son with praise and affection. Poor Aemond nearly drops his plate when he hears that.
You’re quick to respond and defend Aemond. You tell her that what happens between you and your husband has nothing to do with her, and that if you wish to tell your husband just how much of a help he is then she has no right whatsoever to try and stop that. You even add that you would never try to sugarcoat things or butter him up, you say only what you mean (that last part is more for him than it is Allicent).
Aemond now really doesn’t know what to do. He’s never… he never even thought he’d get this kind of love and attention, nevermind to get it and be protected on top of that?
You stand up from the table and take aemond’s hand in your own, taking the plate from his other hand and putting it back down before guiding him out of the room.
He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even ask where you’re taking him. He just lets you lead him.
You take him to your shared quarters, to where you and him are supposed to be every might but no arranged couple actually do that right from the start.
Aemond is silent for a moment, and then when he looks back at you, his voice is so quiet it’s almost a whisper when he asks, “Did you mean that?”
When you nod, Aemond comes closer and spends his first night in that bed. You don’t actually consummate the marriage, but you talk and you lay close together and you know without a doubt that a barrier has been taken out from between you two.
I guess what I’m really trying to get across through all this babble is this: while yes of course praise gets Aemond all worked up and flustered and very very horny once your relationship progresses, praise also serves another very important purpose from the moment you met him. It makes him feel safe, protected, like he’s something worthy of your gaze.
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shiningjustforreid · 29 days ago
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aura
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where Spencer Reid meets someone who shares his pain - if only for a bit.
word count: 1774
a/n: hi! this is my very first published fic (even though i’ve read for years!) and it’s nothing major, but i thought it would be fun to finally write! i hope you enjoy <3
warnings/tags: 18+ (implied intimacy), migraine-era spencer reid, reader has migraines, reader is called ‘girl’ once, heavy themes at the end, spencer rambles about stars, hospitals, spencer calls reader ‘angel’, no use of y/n
- ✩ -
Hospitals may be one of his least favorite places.
“Did you know that actually on any given day 1 in 31 people in a hospital have a hospital induced infection? these include things like a surgical site infection, MRSA,”
Cue the smell of the antiseptic, drowning out the smell of people dying. It’s too clean.
Makes him on edge. But then again, most things do. When people give him that look that clearly says ‘shut up.’ He seems to pull in darkness, trouble, and maybe it’s because he creates it for himself.
Currently, he’s sat, in one of those uncomfortable hospital benches, foot tapping anxiously, sunglasses on, because everything hurts. Notably, his head and eyes.
The lights. The lights build a nausea in him that’s like a tidal wave, build an agony behind his eyes that threatens to reduce his thought process to ash. He still squints, behind the black plastic; it’s not enough, not enough to quell the pain entirely.
“No, I’m, about to go in, actually.”
Is what he should’ve said. But Spencer Reid, a forward man, an eloquent man, is not.
“Can I sit here?”
Quiet, but polite. He makes the mistake of looking up. Your hair is messy, probably from the wind outside, and tucked away from your face. The coat you have on is a deep admiral blue, and it just makes the lack of color in your face all the more apparent. A green bag, slung on your shoulder, as you fiddle with the zipper. Chapped lips form into a halfway smile, and, most noteworthy of all, you have black, plastic glasses on.
“I have an appointment, it’s probably, it’s right after yours, but if I can’t sit here, it’s okay, I-“
You’re backtracking, which means you’re nervous, probably because he’s just been looking at you with an impassive expression, even more unreadable due to the glasses. He clears his throat, and opens his mouth.
“No, um, actually I’m waiting. Hopefully not much longer though.”
God help him, because there’s a shared struggle here, between the two of you. He sees it, in your tense shoulders, the way you sit down slowly, as to not generate any more pain than necessary, the way your hands tremble like leaves in the wind when you adjust your glasses after slowly turning to him. Your halfway smile stays put, though, even through the slow movements.
You move like that, because every movement seems to intensify the burning hot behind your skull.
He knows. He doesn’t know you. Not at all.
But he knows your pain. And maybe that’s enough.
You don’t nod, because it’s unnecessary movement.
“Yeah, I finally gave in and booked an appointment. I’ve had to call out of work for them at least 3 times in the last two weeks.”
Them. The migraines. You don’t need to name them, you both just know. You’re clearly both there for a reason.
“I’m uh, Spencer, by the way. I’ve had mine for a bit now too.”
You tell him your name, and the sound makes a welcome warmth flood through his chest. A star, tiny, but burning, is born. Gravity in his chest, tugging you in, as your heat floods his heart.
Bad idea, bad idea - the alarm bells are clanging. He doesn’t know how sick he is, and he really doesn’t know how sick you are. This could spell disaster, and yet-
He’s intrigued. You radiate this nervousness, a distinct desire to be understood, seen, known. He knows that desire. He has that desire. He wants to know you.
“I think mine might just be due to stress, but, I don’t know. It’s the easiest explanation to deal with.”
For your sake, he hopes that’s all they are. Stress.
And, you’re still sitting there, head bowed, when the nurse comes out and asks questions.
She asks about hallucinations. As if this hell is all in his head. You sit there, silent, biting your lip, worrying the cracked skin in your teeth, your hands picking at the fraying edge of your coat.
When he comes back out, somehow even more tired, even though all he did was lie there and answer some questions, he speaks your name, softly.
As if he has the right to.
You jump a little, look up, and remove your glasses. He stares, he can’t help it. Visible, is the pain, the way your ocular muscles are tense, your skin without color, but you smile, still.
He makes you smile.
“Everything okay?”
Spencer nods hurriedly.
“Fine, for now, I have to get to work. You uh-you’re next?”
“Mhm. Will I—is there any chance I’ll see you again, Spencer?”
You don’t know him. You know him, you must.
“Uh, I mean, I—you want to see me again?”
When will he learn to speak when it actually matters?
“Only if you want to, I-I know I would like to see you again.”
He leaves the hospital, that damn hospital, with a small slip of paper, with ten numbers scrawled in purple ink, and your name below it, a tiny smiley face beside it.
When he gets home from his next case, he fishes that paper out of his messenger bag and types each digit into his cell phone with shaky hands.
Is he tempting fate? Perhaps. But fate answers, your soft voice coming through the phone.
Soon, he finds himself at a café with you, sipping his saccharine sweet coffee and telling you about his job, or some book he just finished, in detail that you don’t seem to protest against. It’s refreshing, really - just to be listened to. To be heard. When you leave, you give him a barely-there kiss on the cheek, a soft goodbye. The star burns brighter.
“I had my follow up appointment.”
He tells you, on the third date, as you two sip coffee once more - are these dates? Would Morgan be impressed? - trying to keep the conversation casual, yet relevant. Your eyes widen with interest.
“And? Did they give you answers?”
He makes a face, shaking his head.
“No. Well, yes, but they told me it’s psychosomatic.”
All in his head.
Your face falls, and you look truly sympathetic.
“I’m sorry, Spencer. I knew how much you didn’t think that to be the case.”
He takes comfort, then, in the way you hug him goodbye, your cheek pressed against the cotton of his cardigan, eyes shut against the light. He tenses, only for a second, before his arms curl around you, resting against your coat.
“We should do dinner.”
He mumbles into your hair, before he can stop himself.
A real date.
And you do. You have dinner, and he makes you laugh, even though it’s quiet, like a bell ringing at Christmas, tiny, joy-filled, and the star in his chest just glows. Your face is tense, though, and he can’t figure out why. You won’t say. either. You never do. You keep your responses composed, and careful, calculated. Like you’re afraid. He wonders why, but won’t press it. You are made of nervous energy. He knows this now.
A few months, of appointments for both of you and cases for him where he aches for your hand in his and coffee and dinner and museum dates, and one ice skating excursion he will not mention, and then—
He makes another mistake then, when he asks you to come over, after a case.
“Just for coffee, or to talk, not to-you know, unless that’s what you want, I—“
Yet, that’s how he ends up with you in his bed, in his lap, your warm hands sliding over his skin like you’re in awe, your wide eyes meeting his own, because he dimmed the lights, and thank God neither of you are hurting right now.
He takes you apart, piece by piece, with his mouth on your collarbone and fingers across your ribs, learning, seeking to know. Because that’s what he wants, to know you, fully, in every way he can, until there’s nothing left for him to study.
After he watches you tremble under him, with his name on your lips, he realizes he’ll never be able to memorize all of you. You’re too extensive, with the blush on your cheeks and the way you cling to him and the way your eyes sparkle for a moment, just a moment, before they dim again.
You’re tucked into him, under his chin, as he traces shapes mindlessly into your back with his fingertips. He feels that star, burning bright in your arms, for millennia to come.
“I love you.”
You smile against his chest, before you speak again, choked up.
“You shouldn’t.”
“Whyever not, angel girl?”
Because you are like an angel, come down from the heavens, his angel, gracing his life during some of the most incredible pain he’s ever felt.
“They told me I’m dying. They found the source of it all.”
And the star fizzles, and sparks, and slowly, a cold ice begins to dwell where the star was. Months fly by, and yet drag, each day feeling long but the weeks short.
He finds himself in the hospital - miraculously, his migraines have given him respite today - your hand in his, his eyes on you. You don’t say much, you never did, but now, he feels like you don’t ever speak at all.
Until you do.
“Spence?”
The light in his chest flickers, illuminating his darkness.
“Yes, angel?”
“Can you talk? About anything? I just wanna hear you.”
He nods, and his voice gets quiet, almost breathless, the longer he speaks.
“Did you know that stars actually are simultaneously pulling apart and being pushed together? The heat from inside the star creates a pressure that causes the atoms to separate, but the gravity attraction forces them back together, as it burns. The bigger a star is though, the less time it takes to go through that fuel.”
He stops, looking down at you. He wonders if you’re listening.
“But when the heat is gone, when it stops burning, there’s nothing to counteract the gravitational pull, and—“
And it collapses in on itself.
“And it just sort of sucks everything else in without its heat, the light, if it’s large enough. Pulling everything in, everyone in-“
He’s said too much. You open your eyes, your voice barely a whisper.
“I don’t want you to do that. You won’t, Spencer, I swear.”
In a rare moment of strength, you tug yourself up, to hold his face in one hand.
“You burned before me. You’ll burn again.”
He nods, desperately trying not to weep.
But I won’t burn like I did with you.
“The brightest stars burn the fastest, so we must love them while we can.”
- Anna Todd
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carto0ncritter · 3 months ago
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People are so desperate for LGBT representation, (specifically gay and lesbian couples), that they're willing to accept literally any homosexual ship regardless of the concerning elements.
Let's see, we have ass ships like
1)Stolitz - Stolas is an abuser, a r*pist, a racist man who has so many powers yet is emotionally fragile, passive and wimpy, a man who victimizes himself over and over, a man who emotionally neglects the child who desperately needs him for his sexual fantasies with his victim, a man who is the creator's pet, a man whose actions aren't wrong according to the writers, a man who can just blame everyone else around him but himself with no consequences
2) Catradora - Catra is an abuser too, but was treated like a cute kitty cat in s5 despite having done atrocious things, she was instantly forgiven with no consequences, and she ended up dating her sister and the biggest victim of her abuse
3) Huskerdust - I haven't talked about this one so far, but Angel sexually harassed Husk and never apologized, Husk himself sang "Loser, Baby" and as a SA survivor I felt like he was trying to say this to Angel: "Oh, you've hit rock bottom because of SA? It's your fault lol, accept that you're a whiny bitch and a loser even tho the problem is extremely serious and out of your control and just suck it up, I'm a loser too despite not going through the same thing you have, you're not alone in being a loser BUT YOU ARE STILL A LOSER BABYYY A LOOOSER" Like, ik the message was supposed to be how we're not alone in our struggles and how there's always someone who will understand and make us feel less alone, but the way this was handled rubbed me the wrong way. Also, I'm not sure whether or not to mention this as well (screw it, I will), but Husk is described as "the old bartender," his voice sounds like it belongs to an old dude too, and he apparently died when he was like, 70, while Angel died in his 30's. I'm not gonna calculate their ages based on how it works in Hell because personally I feel like it doesn't matter. What matters is how old they were when they were alive. But however you decide to look at their ages, it's not just the implied enormous age gap that bothers me, no... it's more so the difference in maturity between Husk and Angel. Husk is described as a dude who has seen and experienced a lot of stuff. On the other hand, Angel is clearly immature and there is this weird... emotional imbalance between them? It's like a mentor dating his apprentice, at least that's how I see it. I'm not saying dating someone who's 40 years older than you is morally wrong (if you're both adults) but IT IS WEIRD imo, especially since Angel & Husk are not on the same page when it comes to life experience and maturity. Oh yeah, I also don't think Angel should be in any kind of romantic relationship... for his own good
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