#so I think in the back of his mind he takes interests in things and has thoughts like: 'maybe I can talk to them about these things one day

[dduane]

Is there an alphabet or lexicon of the human version of The Speech? And if so, where can I find it?

No, there's not.

(And as I've been asked about this before, I'm just going to paste the answer in here—since though the original post is buried in the depths of Tumblr somewhere, I do have my saved draft.)

Per these, which came in very close to each other:

@melbetweenstars

This is something I’ve always wondered but never realized I could actually ask about until I read through that long meta response. (go me.) How much of the Speech do you have fleshed out? Do you create it as you go on more of a need-to-know basis, or do you have vocabulary and grammar structures ready to go? Basically I’d be really interested to hear any Speech-related meta if you have the chance because fictional languages are hella cool!

and:

@sansa–clegane

I just read your post on dark wizards and field terminologies, and am totally loving the Speech translations you provided! Now I’m wondering, though, how much of the language you actually have mapped out or established? I’m very curious as to what, for example, the standard “I - you - he/she/it/etc. - we - you plural - they” conjugation endings would be– or if there even are any in a language as complex as the Speech. I’M JUST REALLY INTERESTED IN FANTASY LINGUISTICS AAAHH

Linguistics is a big deal for me too, as people who read my stuff will have guessed. And needless to say, the Speech is on my mind a lot (along with other “magical languages” and their history/histories).

So let’s take a moment to first to make it clear what the Speech is not. It’s not what’s sometimes referred to as an Adamic language  (whether you take the meaning that God used it to talk to Adam, or that Adam invented it to name things.) It’s also nothing whatsoever to do with Enochian. It’s not an occultic language, or anything invented by human beings.

The basic concept is that the Speech is the language, or the very large body of descriptors, used to create the universe (and very likely others, but let’s leave that to one side for the moment). Such words are also assumed, having been used in the building of the universe, to be able to control the bits they’ve built. Every word, therefore, when used ought ideally to sound as if it contains some tremendous power. 

Writing something like that every time the Speech is used, even for a much better writer than I am, would be very, very hard.

(We need a cut here. Under the cut: Ursula Le Guin, C. S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, J. K. Rowling, and others. ...Also a fair number of beetles. And a bear.)

It’s worth mentioning as a matter of information that I met the concept of secret / divine magical languages in Le Guin’s Earthsea long before I ran into it in C. S. Lewis. (I came pretty late to Lewis’s non-Narnian work.) Yet here Lewis, as more than occasionally before, is my master, having been over this ground right back in the mid-1940s.

There’s a point in the final novel of the so-called “Planetary Trilogy”, that big fat (now endlessly problematic but still fun-in-the-right-moods) book That Hideous Strength, where Elwin Ransom—philologist, unwilling visitor to Mars and Venus, unnerved conscript into the wars in Heaven, and Lewis’s take on both the Pendragon and the wounded Fisher King—is instructing his friend and co-linguistics scholar Dimble on how to behave in a meeting with the newly awakened, and potentially quite dangerous, Merlin Ambrosius. (The POV in this passage is that of a lady named Jane who's just recently fallen into company with the group supporting Ransom.)

“You understand, Dimble? Your revolver in your hand, a prayer on your lips, your mind fixed on Maleldil [just think “Christ” for the moment: surprise surprise, that’s the parellel Lewis is using here]. Then, if he stands, conjure him.” “What shall I say in the Great Tongue?” “Say that you come in the name of God and all angels and in the power of the planets from one who sits today in the seat of the Pendragon, and command him to come with you. Say it now.” And Dimble, who had been sitting with his face drawn, and rather white, between the white faces of the two women, and his eyes on the table, raised his head, and great syllables of words that sounded like castles came out of his mouth. Jane felt her heart leap and quiver at them. Everything else in the room, seemed to have become intensely quiet: even the bird, and the bear***, and the cat, were still, staring at the speaker. The voice did not sound like Dimble’s own: it was as if the words spoke themselves through him from some strong place at a distance—or as if they were not words at all but present operations of God, the planets, and the Pendragon. For this was the language spoken before the Fall and beyond the Moon, and the meanings were not given to the syllables by chance, or skill, or long tradition, but truly inherent in them as the shape of the great Sun is inherent in the little waterdrop. This was Language herself, as she first sprang at Maleldil’s bidding out of the molten quicksilver of the star called Mercury on Earth, but Viritrilbia in Deep Heaven.

Now if that’s not like being hit over the head with a hammer, I don’t know what is.* That moment has been before the eyes-of-my-mind for a long time as I’ve worked with the Speech.

Note, however, that Lewis does a very wise thing here. He doesn’t actually spell out any of the words out for you. Because in the reader’s mind, there’s always the six-year-old saying, “Go on, say the word: see how it sounds, see what happens…!” And when you recite the magic spell, it doesn’t work. The words come out sounding, well, like any others. And maybe not your interior six-year-old, but your interior twelve- or fifteen-year-old—the ego-state that’s about keeping you from getting hurt or looking stupid in front of other people who aren’t privy to or supportive of your dreams—says, “See, it was just another word, just a bunch of nonsense. You got fooled. Dummy!” No wise writer, I think, willingly sets their readership up for such easy and constant disappointment. It's tough enough to weave, and hold in place, the spell that is prose. Handing the audience a potential spellbreaker, over and over again, is folly. 

And by rights the Speech ought to be like Lewis’s example above. If in reality you were to hear the words used to restructure matter or undo gravity, they ought to shake the air in your chest like a Saturn V launch, they should raise the hair on the back of your neck to hear them used; they should freak you out. But a long string of invented syllables isn’t going to do that. I’m stuck with using English to produce even the echo of such a result.

Which means I have to go Lewis’s route… mostly. Here and there I’ll add in a Speech-sourced word or phrase when it supports the narrative or makes it easier for characters to talk about what’s going on—as, when working with wizardry, you do sometimes have to call in precisionist-level language for words that have no casual English cognates: just as you would if you were working in particle physics or organic chemistry at the molecular level. But that’s all I’m going to do… because if you do too much linguistic work in this regard, you constantly run the risk of your readers being distracted from the real business at hand, which is the interactions between/among the characters.

The tech inherent to a work of fantastic fiction is always an issue in this regard. Ideally L. Sprague de Camp’s very useful definition of science fiction, tweaked here for fantasy, ought to be a guideline: “A fantasy story is a human story with a human problem and a human solution that could never have happened without its fantastic content.” Yet inside the definition, there’s still a lot of ways to go wrong. Too much merely human stuff, and a work of fantasy turns into a soap with some casual magical gimmickry—all too often these days labeled as “magic realism”, when it’s not publisher code for “We’d call this fantasy if we had the nerve and we didn’t think it was going to tag us as ‘genre’ and keep us off the best-seller lists”. Too little human-problem-and-human-solution, and it turns into a modern version of what James Blish (God rest him), when writing as the gently merciless science fiction critic William Atheling Jr., used to call “The 'Greater New York and New Jersey Municipal Zeppelin Gas Works’ school of speculative fiction”, where you tour your readership through the Wonderfulness Of Your Tech (magical or otherwise) until they expire of boredom while waiting for someone to fucking do something.

You have to find a centerline between the extremes—indeed pretty much a tightrope—and walk it with some care. I’d guess that J. K. Rowling ran into the need for this balancing act; while never having read the Potter books, I nonetheless get a sense that you get the occasional Wingardium leviosa without also being burdened with long strings of magical Latin. (Though I confess that the answer to the question “Where does the magic come from? And what’s it for?” as it applies to her universe could be of some interest. I have no idea whether this ever gets explicitly handled.**) 

Anyway, it’d be way too easy for the YW books to become long discourses on the Speech and its use. This aspect of the “tech”, I think, gets more than enough time onstage. Having once established that words are a tool, indeed the tool for a wizard, the ur-Tool, making every spell they build a resonance between what they do and the initial/ongoing work of Creation—my business is to stay focused on the challenge of driving plot forward by interactions between human beings (and all kinds of others) who have conflicting agendas.

…So much for the tl;dr. I do have some very basic grammatical structures tucked away, but they’re not in any fit state for other people to look at. The Speech, I think, is really best treated as an ongoing mystery that unfolds a little at a time, as required, and leaves everybody wanting more.

HTH!

*It also leads into one of numerous affectionate nods in this book toward Tolkien, as philologist, fellow novelist, and Lewis’s good friend. It's no accident that when Ransom meets up with Merlin himself, a little later in the narrative, the question of this language—the proper name of the Great Tongue is “Old Solar"—comes up again. When discussing what language they’ll speak with each other during their upcoming negotiations [they apparently start out in a rather beat-up and denatured medieval Latin], Ransom says to Merlin about the language he’d prefer to be working in, "It has been long since it was heard. Not even in Numinor was it heard in the streets.”

The Stranger gave no start … but he spoke with a new interest. “Your masters let you play with dangerous toys,” he said. “Tell me, slave, what is Numinor?” “The true West,” said Ransom. “Well,” said the other.

Yeah, “well.” Better scholars than I have dealt with the relationship between these two, as scholars and writers and friends, so enough of that for the moment. But it’s very sweet to see Lewis do something in his books that I’ve done with mine.

**It’s always possible, of course, that in the HP universe this issue is a surd: like asking “where physics comes from”. (Well, not a surd precisely, if your spiritual life tends a certain way. Mine tends toward “Whoever or whatever made the universe, that’s who made physics. And they must really like it, because they made a metric shit ton of it!” (This answer also works for beetles, though that's a slightly different issue.) :)

But if there’s a most-fundamental difference between my wizardly universe and Rowling’s, it might be best revealed in the third question that came up for me directly after “What if there was a user’s manual for human beings/the world/the universe?” and “If there was, where would it have come from?”: specifically, “And why?”

***There's a bear in the Pendragon's kitchen. Thoth only knows what initially brought that on for Lewis, but it's a character insertion that pays off later, so (shrug) wtf.

#Young Wizards meta #Young Wizards #Ursula Le Guin #C. S. Lewis #J. R. R. Tolkien #the Speech #wizardry #errantry

[adriennebarnes]

First Date

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina Single Mom! Reader

Summary: Charles decides to take Y/N and Vidia out for dinner to celebrate his podium in the Canadian Grand Prix

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: so @barcelonaloverf1life commented say that they wanted more parts to “meet and greet” so I was thinking of writing a collection of one-shots that fit in the fanfic universe of Charles dating a single mom if you’re interested

Vidia and Y/N we’re in the hospitality waiting for Charles outside his driver’s room. He came out wearing jeans and a button down shirt.

“Oh, do I look okay for wherever you’re taking us?” Y/N asked.

“Yes, you look great. And so do you Vidia, can’t forget about the little princess. We could just go to a diner.” Charles suggested

“Don’t you have a diet to stick to?” Y/N asked

“They have salads there.” Charles said.

“But you NEED to try a milkshake.” Vidia said, tugging on Charles pants.

“I most certainly will try a vanilla milkshake.” Charles told vidia. They walked to the car that Charles rented. “Now I’m glad I rented a 4 person car.”

“Quick question, are you sure your team principal will be okay with you going out tonight?” Y/N asked.

“As long I make it on time for practice 3 and qualifying tomorrow, I’m sure everything will be fine.” Charles said. He unlocked the door, opening the back door to help Vidia get in, closed it, and opening the passenger door for Y/N to get it.

“Always the gentleman.” Y/N commented and Charles smiled, closing the passenger door and walking around to get to the driver’s side. “Where are we going?”

“NDG Lucheonette, been a few times before, I like the food.” Charles commented. Y/N texted her dad saying that her and vidia were going out to eat, Vidia took a nap on the car, 45 minutes later, they made it to the diner. Charles opened the door for Y/N and she went to wake up Vidia.

“Princesa, we’re here, let’s go.” Y/N said and Vidia nodded, unbuckling her seatbelt and getting out of the car. Y/N held her hand as they entered the diner.

“Hello, table for three please.” Charles said and the hostess led them to their table. “So, Y/N, what do you do?”

“Oh I’m a baker.” Y/N said.

“Mami owns a bakery.” Vidia said.

“Really? How’s it like?” Charles asks

“You have to wake up early in order to bake, we provide pan dulce too, you know, like bread to eat with your coffee or hot chocolate.” Y/N explains.

“Conchas with hot chocolate is the best.” Vidia said “Mami has a lot of customers, she makes birthday cakes too.”

“Oh wow, you are a very accomplished baker indeed.” Charles said.

“I’m the best in my city.” Y/N said,

“I should stop by your bakery whenever I’m in New York.” Charles said.

“That would be great.” Y/N said, the waitress came and took their orders.

“And you vidia, what do you do?” Charles asked. Y/N loves that Charles is also engaging with her daughter.

“I’m in school, I watch tv, color, play with friends.” Vidia started.

“And when we get back to New York, you have to start the reading list the school gave you.” Y/N said.

“I Don’t like school.” Vidia grumbled and Charles laughed lightly.

“I didn’t like school either, but reading makes you smart like Matilda.” Charles said.

“Who’s Matilda?” Vidia asked and Charles looked at Y/N shocked,

“Yeah, she hasn’t seen the movie yet.” Y/N commented.

“Matilda is a little girl who reads a lot of books, is very smart, and gains the power to move things with her mind.” Charles explained and Vidia’s eyes widened.

“I want to move things with my mind!” Vidia exclaimed.

“Then I guess you need to read when we’re back home.” Y/N said. The milkshakes came first and then the food. The date went well, they were talking, Charles paid, but unbeknownst to everyone, there were F1 fans at the diner who recorded them together. They got into the car.

“I had a great time.” Charles said.

“Me too. By the way, congratulations on Monaco, can’t believe I haven’t said anything about it.” Y/N said.

“Thank you, you saw the race?” Charles asked.

“Of course.” Y/N said.

“Mami was crying.” Vidia commented.

“Did you really?” Charles asked.

“It was your first home race win, of course I was going to cry, all of Ferrari cried.” Y/N said.

“Well thank you, where’s your hotel?” Charles asked.

“I’ll just type it in,” Y/N said and she did just that. The drive was kinda quiet, just Charles’s playlist in the background until he made it to the front of her hotel.

“I hope it’s not too forward of me to ask for your number.” Charles said.

“Well you met my daughter and took us out on a date, asking for my number is definitely not too forward.” Y/N said, Charles unlocked his phone so Y/N could type in her number.

“Thank you, I’ll see you two tomorrow, call me in the morning so I can give you paddock passes.” Charles said.

“I will hold you to it. Vidia, mi amor, let’s go, we’re here.” Y/N said, getting out of the car while Vidia stirs awake. Y/N carried Vidia out of the car. “Text me, Charles, don’t make me regret giving you my number,”

“You won’t regret it, I swear.” Charles said, Y/N carries Vidia to the hotel room and her dad is awake watching TV.

“Como les fue?” Y/N’s dad asked. How���d it go

“Nos fue bien, Vidia está muy cansada la pobre.” Y/N said, laying vidia down in the bed. It went well, vidia is really tired, poor thing

“Me trajeron algo?” Did you bring me anything?

“No papi, lo siento.” Y/N said. She felt her phone vibrate and it was a text. Sorry

Unknown number: Hello Y/N, it’s Charles, hope you and Vidia have a good night.

Y/N smiles at her phone and replied back to him.

Y/N: Hello Charles, we hope you have a good night too. You need to be well rested if you’re going to be in pole again

Both Charles and Y/N went to sleep knowing that there might be a new relationship brewing.

The End

Hope y’all liked it, I’m sorry if it seems a little rushed

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc #f1 fanfic

[aveloka-draws]

I'm not even that interested in boyfailure squid but

ngh

anyway.

(Pre-apology for the ramble, but you seem to enjoy these, so.)

Another ask was about how in this comic Kallaboy could've been suddenly feeling love from a mortal perspective, and I agree, but also disagree.

It's not that I think CotL gods don't experience love the same way, but that when mortal lives are so short compared to their own, it's hard for that love to be practiced the same way. It's a bit different when you love someone who may as well be gone the next day to a god, vs when mortals decide to spend a percentage of their limited lifetime together with a partner.

I could see this scene as Kallamar being uncomfortably and forcefully aware of mortal instincts and how it likely strengthens his natural cowardliness and fears of death, and him assuming that's also how all other mortals feel due to lack of or outdated experience being one.

I bet Kallaboy was planning this whole scenario out before enacting it, deciding that since he's experiencing mortal fear of death, that Saleos would be experiencing it the same way. He's not taking into account how Saleos has acted towards his own death before, nor the ways in which others loyal to a god might offer their lives to their god.

In short, Kallamar is being incredibly mortal, by forgetting that mortals vary wildly based on personality and other things like devotion.

Before this scene, I bet he'd likely expect some posturing, a bit of threatening, but no actual follow through happening. Either assuming his own threatening/words would be enough to get the result, even if Saleos was unwilling--or he's expecting to not have to care about the follow through. Just because he loves someone doesn't mean their eventual death isn't just something mundane and expected to a god, which is still sees himself as, right? He might have been expecting some feelings around betrayal, if he had to really push Saleos to shift back to worship of him, but nothing like what actually happened in this scene.

How Saleos immediately goes for the sacrifice, so quick that Kallamar barely has time to make the injury nonfatal, slams it home that Kallaboy 1) miscalculated BADLY, 2) almost lost someone who is incredibly useful to him, but also he cares deeply for, and 3) oh shit, he CARES like a mortal cares about whether someone lives or dies--which again, another miscalculation. His OWN death isn't the only death he's worried about now.

I think Kallamar here is experiencing a ton of mind/body betrayal in this scene, I mean his heart is probably going a mile a minute when he's unused to it reacting at all. I'm sure this is all hammering home that he is mortal, but woefully uneducated in How To Mortal.

Basically, imo Kallamar is:

[NEW FEAR UNLOCKED: LOVER'S DEATH] "--WTF????"

Eating this eating this devouring it yes yes y

#ask a bird #learn how to mortal you squid

[natsaffection]

Mafias Mistress pt. 5 | N.R

MafiaBoss!Natasha x CivilianYounger!Reader

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI! Age gap (Natasha is 32 = reader ist 22) BDSM STUFF - Restraints, spanking, flogging, vibrator use, nipple clamp use, edging, overstimulation, strap on (r receive), fingering, choking, rough sex

Word Count: 3,8k

A/N: Pure Smut below..we are slowly coming to the end🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️

You were startled awake by the sound of your bedroom door bursting open. You sit up, eyes widening, and see Natasha standing in the doorway, her expression a mixture of anger and urgency. The morning light casts long shadows in the room, making Natasha's presence even more imposing.

"What do you want?" you ask annoyed. You had hoped for some peace and quiet, but Natasha's sudden appearance dashed that hope.

Natasha walks into the room, her eyes flashing, "I have a high-ranking visitor today. Important people here for business. You are not leaving this room tonight. Do you understand me?"

You crossed your arms, your irritation growing. "And why would I ? Are you afraid of embarrassing you?" Natasha's eyes narrowed. "I'm not in the mood for games, Y/N. If you leave this room tonight, you will suffer the consequences. Serious consequences.”

You feel a spark of defiance flare up inside you. “We’ll see.” Natasha leans closer to you, her voice a deadly whisper. “I’m serious, Y/N. Don’t test me.”

As Natasha leaves the room and slams the door behind her, your mind raced. You knew this was your chance to get revenge on Natasha for the humiliation you endured last night. An idea began to form and a determined smile spread across your face. This time you will win, consequences or not.

As the evening came, the mansion bustled with activity, you made your move. You chose a short, form-fitting dress, the fabric shimmering in the light. It was provocative, designed to attract attention and elicit a reaction from Natasha.

You decided to forget underwear, knowing it would drive Natasha crazy. With one last look in the mirror, you take a deep breath and leave your room. The halls were filled with Natasha's men, their eyes widening in shock and fear when they saw you. You move purposefully, your heart pounding with anticipation.

Maria spots you first, her eyes widening in horror. "Y/N, what are you doing here?" she whispered urgently. "She kill you first and then me. Go back, I mean it."

You grin, your defiance only growing. "Don't worry, Maria. "Just look." As you walked through the mansion, you could feel everyone's eyes on you. The tension in the air was palpable, a mixture of fear and excitement. You finally reach the main hall, where the high-ranking visitors mingle.

Natasha had been speaking to a visitor, a man with a smug expression and a condescending tone. He leaned closer to Natasha, his gaze wandering around. "You know, Natalia, you always manage to keep things interesting. That girl over there," he said, nodding toward you, "looks like she's here to entertain us."

Natasha followed his gaze and her blood froze when she saw you. The dress was short, far too short, and every curve was provocatively accentuated. Natasha's grip on her glass tightened, the warning she had given you earlier ringing in her ears.

"Excuse me for a moment." Natasha walked toward you, handed her glass to a nearby waiter and stopped you in your tracks, "What the hell are you wearing?" Natasha hissed, grabbing your arm and pulling you to the side. The grip was firm, but not painful.

You looked up at her, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "A few thousand of your dollars," you answered casually. "The dress is so short, you don't even have to take it off."

Natasha's eyes sparked with anger and something darker, more primal. You took Natasha's hand and slid it between your thighs. Her breath caught when she realized you weren't wearing any underwear.

"You think this is a game?" Natasha whispered, her voice a mix of anger and desire. "You think you can just walk out of here like that?" Your heart raced, but you kept your composure, "Maybe I do," you answered firmly. "Maybe I wanted to know if it still meant something to you."

Natasha's hand tightened around your thigh, her breath hot against your ear. "Oh, it means something to me," she whispered, her voice full of promise. "But you're playing with fire." Your body shook with anticipation, your pulse quickened. "Maybe I like the heat," you whispered back, your voice barely audible.

Natasha's control wavered, her eyes filled with a mixture of frustration and desire. "You have no idea what you're doing," she said, her voice strained. You leaned closer, your lips touching Natasha's ear. "Then show me," you challenged, your voice a seductive whisper.

For a moment, Natasha's anger seemed to disappear, replaced by a burning desire. She pulled you closer, your bodies pressed together. "You want to play games?" she murmured, her voice a low growl. "Let's play."

You caught your breath as Natasha's hand slid further up your thigh, her touch possessive and tender at the same time. “I’m not afraid of you,” you whispered. “Not anymore.”

Natasha's eyes darkened, her grip tightening. "You should be," she whispered back, her voice a dangerous promise. "Oh, and when I'm done with you, you'll know exactly why."

Just as the tension between you reached its peak, Natasha pulled back abruptly. She signaled to two of her men who were quickly approaching. "Take her to my room," Natasha ordered, her voice cold and commanding. "And make sure she doesn't come out."

The men nodded with serious expressions as they grabbed you by the arms. You struggled against their grip, fear creeping into you as you realized Natasha was serious. The men were rough, dragging you through the mansion to Natasha's private quarters.

"Natasha, hey!" you shouted, your voice shaking. "You can't do that! Natasha!!" But Natasha's face remained a mask of anger and determination. "You wanted to play games, Y/N. Now you'll see what happens."

You were pushed into Natasha's room, the door slamming behind you. The men stood guard outside, their presence a reminder of Natasha's authority. Your heart raced, the reality of the situation sinking in. Shit..

In the silence of the room, you could hear your own heartbeat, fear mixed with lingering desire. You realized you had underestimated Natasha's anger and thought it was all an act. But Natasha's anger was real, and you were now trapped by your own actions.

As the minutes passed, your nervousness grew. You had to find a way to make things right, to maybe calm Natasha down after all. You approached the door and knocked softly. There was no answer, just the oppressive silence and the presence of the guards outside. You sank to the floor, your mind racing.

Hours had passed since Natasha had ordered you to be taken to her room. The villa had gone quiet, the high-ranking visitors gone, leaving an atmosphere of tension and unease. You sat on the edge of the bed, your mind racing with thoughts of Natasha and the consequences of your actions.

Outside, Maria approached cautiously, her voice gentle. "Natasha, you have to calm down. This won't help." Natasha's eyes flashed with anger. "She thinks this is a game, Maria. She doesn't understand the danger she's in."

"Then show her," Maria suggested quietly. "But not as you are now. Talk to her. Help her understand." Natasha looked at her and took a breath. She ran past Maria, "Not today."

The door squeaked open and your heart was in your throat. Natasha stood in the doorway, her expression unreadable, a dark intensity in her eyes. She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her with a soft click. "Natasha," you began, your voice shaking. "I-"

"Enough," Natasha interrupted, her voice cold and commanding. "You've gone far again today." Before you could react, Natasha grabbed your arm and pulled you to your feet. The grip was firm and unyielding, sending a shiver of fear down your spine. "Natasha, please, I'm sorry..." you begged, but Natasha's expression remained hard.

Without a word, Natasha led you down the hallway, never loosening her grip. You descended a staircase you'd never noticed before, the air growing cooler and more threatening with each step.

You reached a heavy wooden door, which Natasha pushed open, revealing a dimly lit room with an array of appliances and devices. It was Natasha's playroom. Bigger, redder and much more equipped than the room in Natasha's apartment.

Adrenaline rushed through you as you realized what was coming. "No, Natasha, wait," you begged, trying to pull away. Natasha's grip tightened, her eyes dark with determination. "You wanted to play games, Y/N. Now you'll see the consequences."

She pulled yourself in front of her so she could look at you. She paused for a moment and looked deep into your eyes. "Do you remember your safe word?"

You blinked, your confusion evident. "Yes," you answered, your voice shaking slightly. "Red." Natasha nodded, a hint of relief crossing her face. "Good. Remember, you can use it anytime. I won't stop otherwise."

She dragged you to a large, imposing X in the middle of the room that was equipped with restraints. With practiced ease, Natasha tied your wrists and ankles to the posts so that you stood stretched out and vulnerable.

Natasha paused, her eyes softening for a moment before she steeled herself. "You have to understand something, Y/N," she said with a low growl. "My world is dangerous. You can't just play games and expect there to be no consequences."

Your heart pounded in your chest, your fear mixed with a strange feeling of anticipation, and you remembered why you got into this situation in the first place. You have a goal.

"Maybe I'll enjoy the consequences?"

Natasha's eyes flickered with emotion, but she remained determined. "We'll see about that," she growled. Her voice held a promise that took your breath away with anticipation. With practiced ease and skill, Natasha leaned forward, running her fingertips along the curve of your arm and down to the soft curve of your chest. "You will learn to submit," she whispered, her fingers playing with the goosebumps that formed before her touch. “What you saw back at home is nothing compared to this."

Your pulse quickened as Natasha moved behind you. You felt the cool touch of a leather whip sliding down your back and couldn't help the involuntary trembling. "Oh, I like that trembling," Natasha cooed in your ear, biting your earlobes. "I'm going to enjoy this more than you..."

The scent of your arousal filled the air, an intoxicating aroma that Natasha didn't want to deny herself. She slid a hand between your thighs and rubbed your wet pussy lips, eliciting a gasp from you, the frightened but eager newcomer.

"Open your mouth," Natasha ordered, her voice rough and commanding. You obediently opened your lips and Natasha slid two fingers into your mouth, rubbing them firmly against your tongue and gums. "You do realize that you're not supposed to like this, right?"

You moaned, filled with a mixture of fear and desire as your body shook in response. With a cruel glint in her eyes, Natasha filled your mouth and with her other hand she pinched and pulled cruelly at your nipples.

"That's it, take it all," Natasha hissed, her voice almost a growl now. "Show me how much you want it." You moaned and your head fell back against the iron cross. You could hear the wetness between your legs dripping onto the smooth leather carpet beneath you.

The sound of the whip falling onto your skin sounded like a gunshot in your ears, sending shocks of pleasure and pain throughout your body. Natasha ran the evil instrument down your back, thighs and buttocks, letting its cruel spikes bite deep into your skin.

You struggled against your bonds, lost somewhere between agony and ecstasy. Natasha paused, her attention lingering on the delicate skin at the crease where your legs met her body. You tensed as you felt a soft feather tickle you, and you broke out in a cold sweat.

“shh,” Natasha whispered, “just feel.” She pulled the feather higher, reaching your quivering sex. Your head fell back in surrender as you squeezed your eyes shut.

You felt the sting of the feather disappear, replaced by the delicate caress of something softer, a feather-light touch just beneath your sex. You winced as Natasha’s lips found the sensitive underside of one of your breasts, sucking and nibbling hungrily.

“Fuck!” you screamed, your hips bucking toward Natasha’s mouth just as she felt the cruel bite of the whip on the exposed curves of your ass. Natasha grinned and dragged the leather instrument teasingly across your folds. “Beg,” she purred, tugging at one of your sensitive nipples with her teeth.

You whimpered and struggled against the bonds as Natasha’s harsh words sent waves of shame and desire through you. "Make me." You gasped, grinning in her face. Natasha ripped the dress off of you, leaving your stomach bare and trembling. Suddenly, cool metal closed around your nipples and a rush of pleasure ran through your body as the metal began to vibrate.

"W-What.." you gasped, struggling against the bonds that pinned you to the cross. Natasha's grin widened at your reaction and she twisted one of the clamps before another low hum filled the air.

"You should hold still while I do that," she purred as she moved the vibrating object over your sensitive clitoris, sending a shiver down your spine.

"No, Natasha! I-I- Too much..!" You tried to catch your breath as the sensations overwhelmed you. The clamps pulled on your sensitive nipples, increasing each touch. "Natasha...please, n-no more!!" you whimpered. But Natasha just laughed softly.

"Oh, my love, we're just getting started," Natasha teased, running her tongue over your heaving breast. She pressed the vibrating object harder against your clit, making your hips twitch helplessly.

"F-FUCK!" you screamed as you writhed in the leather restraints. Your body burned; all reason dissolved in the rush of pleasure. Your legs and chest twitched uncontrollably, seeking any friction to quell the pain that demanded release.

Natasha kept her eyes fixed on your writhing object as she played with the vibrating device, running it up and down your labia and teasing your throbbing clit. With each pass, she felt your desire grow as your resolve weakened. "I-I'm begging you! Ple-ase!" you gasped, your voice a hoarse plea.

Natasha stood there, enjoying the sight of the shaking, exhausted girl before her. For now, she was content to watch you tremble and pant with a deliciously dazed expression on your face.

Natasha growled deep in her throat as she slid her hand between your legs. "Oooh, God-d!" you cried out, your already flushed cheeks glowing even hotter. "You don't need him," Natasha chuckled darkly into the folds of your wet entrance. She enjoyed the way you tensed and writhed against her. "Just me," Natasha teased, pressing her fingers into your heated core in one quick, unyielding motion.

Your eyelids fluttered closed as Natasha mercilessly added a third finger, stretching you wide. Your heart was pounding wildly and your mind was reeling - a dizzying cocktail of pain and rapture.

Natasha seized the opportunity, her lips grasping the sensitive outline of your tight bud as she pushed her fingers deeper inside you. You cried out once more before your orgasm fully took hold, increasing tension gripping your entire body as the waves arched and crashed over you.

Natasha let you ride the wave before she pulled her fingers back. “Your pretty ass is about to be mine." With a quick movement, she ran her nails along the crack of your ass.

"N-No!" you cried, your body tense as Natasha stood behind you. "Relax or it will hurt even more," Natasha ordered, spanking your ass hard. Your body twitched violently, pushing the restraints further.

"Listen carefully," she said, admiring your shaking body from behind, "You will count out loud with each lash of my whip. If you fail, I will start over. Do you understand?"

You whimpered and nodded your head vigorously. Sweat ran down your forehead and you could feel the heat radiating from Natasha's body, the woman's skin seemed to burn. And then came the first lash.

"One," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the blood pounding in your ears. Natasha smiled, her eyelids drooping lazily as she raised the whip high above her head.

A wicked glint danced in her deep green eyes, and you could feel your breath catch in your throat as the whip came down again, landing hard on your trembling, flushed skin.

"Two..." you let out a sigh as a deep, painful throb raced through your body. You weakly struggled to find purchase against the shackles around your wrists and ankles, but it was useless. You had nowhere to go and you had no choice but to hold on.

Your breathing became shallower and more desperate as the seconds ticked by, your head a whirlwind of emotions. Natasha kept her eyes on your beautiful, trembling form as she mercilessly swung her whip, marking your flesh with each strike. Your body arched with each strike, your cries mingling with Natasha's own animalistic growls.

Finally exhausted, she lowered the whip and let it hang limply from her hand. The sickly, sweet smell of sweat and desire hung in the air as Natasha strode toward you, her gaze fixed on the exhausted subordinate's trembling physical form.

With a wicked, lustful grin, Natasha knelt before you and pushed your ankle shackles apart, revealing the pink welts that marked your bottom, still glowing from the cruel discipline you had just endured.

"Would you like to try counting again, my love?" Natasha purred, her voice dripping with malice. You shook your head, your exhausted body desperate and still shaking from the intense burn of the whip.

"I d-don't, I can't...anymore," you said exhaustedly. "We'll see," Natasha's voice sounded cold and threatening above you, as she released your bonds, your arms fell limply to your side and your legs had no strength to hold you up. Natasha caught you and carried you over to a bed.

She leaned closer, examining the marks she had left on your supple skin, then ran her fingers over the angry red lines. "Does it hurt?" Natasha whispered hoarsely in your ear, her warm breath causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. "Answer me," Natasha demanded, her voice harder now. "Do you feel pain?"

"Y-Yes," you whispered dejectedly. "Good." Natasha grinned wildly as she lowered her lips to your neck, placing hot, wet kisses and leaving little love bites. You whimpered softly, throwing your head back as you arched to meet Natasha's exploring lips.

With a harsh giggle, Natasha grabbed your thighs and opened them wide. You gasped as the cold air rose and hit your heated core. A deep blush flooded your cheeks as Natasha kissed your inner thighs, eliciting a moan from her submissive.

"Look at you," Natasha murmured in agreement, her voice sensual and deep, vibrating deliciously. "You want this so fucking bad, that tight little cunt is just begging for relief."

A dark shiver ran through you at the crude language. It sent shivers down your spine, your nipples poking out like greedy little peaks in her leather bralette. Your body needed to be conquered, craved the taste of domination. And who better to give it to you than Natasha?

"Are you ready, moya lyubov?" Natasha purred, her eyes dark and intense as she reached under the bed and pulled out a strap-on. "Yes," you breathed, unable to look away from the dominant woman. Without warning, Natasha thrust forward, filling you with a wild, animalistic hunger. She gripped your thighs tightly and held them still as she thrust into you with wild abandon.

You screamed in pleasure, the pain of your welts fading in the face of your overwhelming pleasure. Natasha leaned down to kiss you, swallowing your passionate cries as she continued to plunder your depths.

Your tongues dueled and parried, each thrust and retreat bringing you closer to the edge. "Cum for me," Natasha whispered hoarsely, pulling back just enough to meet your wide eyes.

The command sent a shiver down your spine, your core clenching around Natasha as you neared your release. "I'm... I'm going to...!" you screamed, unable to hold back the tidal wave of pleasure. Your eyes rolled back and your body tensed as you felt the orgasm rip through you. This time Natasha watched your body shudder in release, delighting in how you screamed and squirmed in surrender to her dominance.

She paused for a moment, staring hungrily at your flushed, sweat-covered features as she occasionally groped you as you screamed and squirmed. "So beautiful, so perfect. You can feel me deep inside you, feel you falling apart under my touch, brought to the edge." Then she increased her speed, her movements becoming more reckless; her eyes blazing with the intensity of her desire.

"Fuck N-Natasha, wai-it!" With each thrust, your cries grew louder, the bedposts clacked rhythmically against the wall as natasha desperately searched for release. You tossed your head from side to side, your breasts bouncing and jumping, your hair making a mess of the expensive silk sheets.

"Stay still," Natasha demanded, her voice low and threatening, but there was something whispered in that command that sent a shiver of anticipation through your body, making it impossible for you to resist. Your breath came in ragged gasps and your eyes fluttering shut.

"Stay with me, little one.” Natasha demanded, her voice deep and commanding. You obeyed immediately, your wide eyes meeting Natasha's. "That's better," Natasha said, satisfaction shining in her eyes. "I'm the boss here and you will do what I say. Do you finally understand that now?”

You cried out and arched your back as your body endured the hard thrust, your clit rubbing against the thick base of the strap-on with each thrust. Natasha bit her lip, her eyes on you as she pushed in deeper, hitting the spot that made your whole body twitch with pleasure. "Oh, God!" you screamed as another wave of pleasure raced through your body. "Scream my name," Natasha hissed. "Say it!"

You could barely form words at this point, let alone remember what Natasha had ordered, but you felt Natasha's hands close around your throat, cutting off your airway just enough to make your speech sound garbled and unintelligible. "Nn... ta...asha!" You gagged, your body writhing under Natasha's grip.

"Fuck Y/n!!" she breathed as she thrust into you one last time, the dildo glistening with your shared wetness. Your body froze beneath her, your eyes rolling back as you reached the peak of your orgasm. Your loud, throaty screams filled the room as you came for the third time, your body a limp, sated mess, sprawled on the bed.

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🏷️ TAGLIST

@kipitou @thalia-is-not-ok @queen2234 @sgm616 @dorabledewdroop @natsxwife @natashaswife4125 @loneliestafterparty @jenniferjareauwife @maggieromanov @doveromanoff @agent99galanzo

#natasha x reader #natasha smut #natasha romanoff #dom!natasha x reader #natasha romanov x reader #nat x reader #natasha romanov smut #natasha romonova #the avengers #natasha

[axiina]

what about aemond x niece reader but aegon has always been in love with her? she is betrothed to aemond and they’ve always had a thing for the other but aegon has been head over heels for her since he can remember 👀

Always the last

Pairing: Aegon Targaryen x niece!reader, Aemond Targaryen x niece!reader

Summary: The firstborn son, always the last. It was like a mockery of the gods. To give him birthright but take away the one he wanted more than anything in the world.

Words: 1k

Themes: angst, no comfort, basically aegon is obsessed with reader, kind of self harm? (too much alcohol to silence pain), addictions

Warnings: delulu fanon aegon, kind of self harm? (too much alcohol to silence pain), addictions, incest (it's targaryens so obviously)

Author's note: I'm back, and I hope for longer. At first, it was supposed to be a more aemond x reader, but I changed my mind, and it ended up as angst from aegon's perspective. I'm sucker for my delulu fanon aegon. if you want more, my asks are open!!

Aegon knew he shouldn't get his hopes up. The life he imagined with his niece by his side was simply not going to happen.

He didn't deserve her. And even if it were otherwise, nothing would come of it. He had already been married to Helaena for years.

It just didn't make sense, and Aegon was well aware of that. So why did it hurt him so much? Why then, when he heard his father's decision about the betrothals of Aemond and his niece, did Aegon feel as if his life had just been put to rest? Why did it hurt so much? The knowledge that it would be Aemond who would be able to watch her sleep blissfully, hug her, kiss her, and spend the rest of his life with her didn't allow him to function.

He is the first-born son, and yet always the last.

So he turned to drinking and whoring. Aegon was never a serious man. He was always more interested in pleasure than any duty and this time was no different either. He didn't want to think anymore.

He didn't want to think about her, so to silence those disturbing thoughts, he would get drunk to the point of unconsciousness, unable to get her out of his head.

He would do anything to forget, to silence the pain and the voice that reminded him that it should have been him all along.

Aegon drank day and night with no desire to stop it. In every spare moment, all he could think about was his niece. The girl whose smile could light up the darkest corner and whose touch made his heart beat faster.

He knew it was wrong. He knew he should forget her. After all, she was his brother's betrothed. But there was nothing he could do about it.

No matter how much he tried to push away thoughts of her, no matter how much he tried to hide his feelings, he couldn't.

He couldn't forget the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed or the way her hair fell around her face like a waterfall. He couldn't forget her scent and the smile that made his heart flutter. He couldn't forget the way her hand felt in his, or the way her fingers traced patterns on his skin. Even if it was years ago when they were children. When life was easier.

He couldn't forget her. He was completely and utterly infatuated.

And it was killing him.

Every time he saw her with his brother, every time he saw them laughing and joking together, it felt like a dagger in his heart. He knew he should be happy for Aemond, but he couldn't. He was too consumed with jealousy, too consumed with the thought that she should be his betrothed and not his brother's.

He knew it was selfish and even unreasonable. But he couldn't help it.

He couldn't bear the thought of her being with someone else. Not when he had wanted her so much for so long. Not when he had spent years admiring her from afar, unable to do anything but dream of what might have been if things had turned out differently.

No amount of alcohol could erase his memories, no amount of pleasure could dull the pain in his heart.

She was always there, on the edges of his mind, tormenting him with her sweetness, beauty and innocence.

The pain in Aegon's heart only grew when he saw them together.

The sight of Aemond's eyes brightening as he looked at her, the way he leaned in to listen closely every time she spoke, the small smile that appeared on his lips when she laughed, all of it made Aegon's insides twist into a knot.

He felt as if a cold, strong hand was squeezing his heart and squeezing it tighter and tighter with each passing moment.

He tried to look away, to divert his attention, but he couldn't. His eyes always returned to them, drawn to their sight like a moth to a flame. He tried to tell himself that he should be happy for Aemond, that he should be happy that his brother had found someone to make him happy, but he couldn't.

He was filled with a burning jealousy from which he could not shake.

He couldn't stand it.

He couldn't look at them together, see the happiness on their faces, the warmth in Aemond's gaze. It was like a thousand needles piercing his heart with every passing second. He wanted to scream, tear them apart, take her away from her brother, and claim her as his own. He wanted to sink his face into her hair and inhale her scent, to wrap his arms around her and never let her go.

But he couldn't.

He couldn't do any of those things. He was trapped, watching from the sidelines as Aemond, his younger brother, his other son, always the more loved one, was now the one who could be with her. The one who could hold her hand, kiss her, and share her life. Aegon could only stare at it, feeling the bitter taste of jealousy on his tongue.

She was like a drug, an addiction he couldn't shake off. Every time he saw her, his heart sped up, his palms sweated, and his throat tightened.

And every time she smiled at Aemond, her eyes shining with affection, his heart broke all over again.

He knew that Aemond deserved someone like her in his life. But he couldn't help it. Jealousy was consuming him. It was destroying him.

Aegon knew he was not the right choice for her. He was too weak, too selfish, too impulsive.

He was a drunkard, a lustful man, one who lacked discipline and self-control. He would disappoint her, hurt her, and ultimately break her heart.

But that didn't stop him from wanting her, from lusting after her like a drug. Every thought of her filled his mind, every memory of her haunted his dreams.

She was like a bright, shining candle in a dark, cold world, and he was drawn to her more and more because he couldn't have her.

He was the firstborn son, the eldest, the one who was supposed to get everything.

And yet he was always the last. Last in his father's eyes, last in his mother's heart and now last in the race to her heart.

It was like a cruel joke, a mockery of the gods, that they had given him the birthright but taken away the one thing he wanted, the one person he wanted more than anything.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fanfic #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #hotd aegon #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #send me asks #aegon targaryen #aegon x reader #hotd imagine

[nxuvillette]

hi celeste bby! how do we feel about professor! welt yang? bc i think he would be such a hot— i mean, good teacher! imagine you enroll in college a few years after graduating so you're a little older than most college students, a little more mature. it sets you apart from your younger classmates and he can't help but notice, yk?

❥- note : hi eliza !! forgive me if this sucks, this is my first time writing welt </3. i hope you enjoy and thank you for sending this :> !

content warnings : nsfw [17+], fem!reader, ageless + blank blogs dni, professor!welt, age gap (reader is 24 and welt is 28), semi public sex, classroom sex, creampie, use of pet names (good girl + darling), rough(ish) sex.

professor welt yang was one of the more chill professors on campus. he wasn’t very stingy about grades, and he was very close with the students who took his course.

especially, you.

welt first noticed you on the first day of class. you seemed a little older than most of the students in the lecture hall, and it turned out you were actually trying to obtain your master’s degree and had to take his course as an elective to move forward. he was used to dealing with typically eighteen or nineteen year olds who didn’t really know what they were doing, so you were kind of a perfect change to his class. you did your assignments, did very well on tests, participated regularly, and always showed up on time. he admired that a lot.

soon enough, you started sticking after class to try and prepare for his exams which were usually pretty tough. he didn’t mind giving you some tutoring. you were one of the few students who actually seemed interested in his class. it was also nice to have your company. you were much more mature than the rest of your peers, and welt really liked that.

then again, he was just your professor and you were his student. he couldn’t do such a thing.

but, you were so attractive. some days you would come to class in a skirt and it would ride up just a little to where he could see the fat of your thighs and a brief glimpse of your ass. welt would have to stop himself sometimes from taking a look at your cleavage whenever you had a tank top on. he didn’t want to cross boundaries by any means. you were somewhat near his age, but still someone who was above you. he could get in trouble!

though, today was the day that all of his self restraint went out the window.

you had stopped by at the end of the day to talk to welt about a question you had about something he taught during his lecture. somehow, the conversation had shifted to a more personal one, and you ended up sprawled out on welt’s desk with his fat cock splitting your pussy to almost its limit.

he knew he shouldn’t have been doing such a lewd act at school of all places, and with his student, but he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. not when you flashed your cunt that was hidden under your skirt with no panties on. he wanted to try and forget what he saw, but you just kept drawing him in. welt knew what you were trying to do. he wasn’t about to let the opportunity slip by either. not when the chance was absolutely perfect.

you were underneath him babbling sentences while he fucked your brains out. the papers he was grading were now discarded and some were even on the floor. the desk creaked from the sudden ruts of his hips into yours. oh, how cute. “m-mr.yang! more, more!” you whined, sounding desperate for his touch.

welt’s thumb toyed with your clit, sending bolts of electricity dancing around your stomach. he had fantasized about this moment more times than he could count. his pretty student taking his dick that was much better than the shitty college boys who didn’t know how to use their own. “you’re such a good girl, fuck..” he groaned with gritted teeth. “you like when i give you extra credit, hm?”

you responded with several nods. this was turning you on so much. you were already so close to cumming, and he could feel it. your pussy squeezed his cock like a vice and he was becoming enthralled with how amazing you felt.

“mm..! i’m close! ah.. please cum inside me, mr.yang! pump my pussy full!” you cried, rolling your nipples between your fingers.

welt practically lost his damn mind when he heard you moan such a slutty thing to him. his fingers dug into your hips, setting up a very quick speed that knocked the air out of your lungs. he was lost within you and the orgasm he had been desperately chasing for the last few minutes. “anything for you, darling..” he grunted, sweat casually trickling down his face from the heat of the room.

the two of you let out completely different noises the moment your orgasms had finally crashed onto you. thick cum spurted inside of your walls, covering them with white, and your pussy gripped welt’s cock so tightly he found himself not wanting to pull out of you.

“make sure you come by again. i have many other lessons i’d like to teach you..” he whispered.

© NXUVILLETTE ┆ all rights reserved, do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

#꩜— interstellar communications. #·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ official work ! #˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ new message: eliza ! #welt yang smut #welt x reader #welt yang x reader #welt smut #welt yang x you #hsr x reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail x reader #hsr smut #honkai star rail smut #star rail x reader #star rail smut

[hornychristianprincess]

wasted (leehan x fem reader) pt. 1

paring: leehan x fem reader genre: smut, fluff, angst, fuckboy!leehan, college au word count: 6k summary: hooking up with a stranger at a party is fun when said stranger is a tall, attractive philosophy major whose name you don’t learn until weeks later. warnings: explicit sex scenes, oral (female and male receiving), a lil butt action but nothing too crazy

ao3 link can be found HERE.

“You’re a new face,” remarked the rich, husky voice belonging to the stranger who had just approached you. In a house party that was relatively packed, you thought you were blending in by sticking to the wall and enjoying your solo cup full of unlabeled liquor. And yet, here was the approaching figure of a man so tall you had to crane your neck to face him, knowing nothing about you and yet still managing to observe how out of place you seemed.

“That obvious, is it?”

“Don’t worry. It’s nothing about you, per se. It’s just, these things are usually pretty tight-knit; the same people come every time. So when someone’s new, you notice,” he tells you, his slow, calm way of talking making you feel relieved and deeply curious at the same time. “Do you go to school here?” 

You nod your head in confirmation, though it feels foreign to do so when parts of you still feel more like a visitor than a student. “I just transferred here.”

He smiles hospitably at this, gesturing his arms out towards the room of people who surround you. “Welcome to our vibrant community. Please enjoy your stay. Refreshments are in the back and the ice machine is down the hall.”

You giggle genuinely at him and the sort of clumsy, awkward way his words seem to land on you. He’s the kind of person you were expecting to meet when you transferred from your rural state school to this smaller liberal arts college. There’s something almost dorky and strange about him, from the way he dresses in an oversized cardigan and big round glasses to the way he holds eye contact with you for what you deem longer than normal. And yet, his self-assuredness is crystal clear to you. It’s at this moment that you acknowledge to yourself how attractive you find him.

“Did you come here with someone?” he asks you, his posture changing so that he’s leaning into you just slightly.

“Yeah. My roommate is here somewhere—” you gesture aimlessly around you, “—probably getting tongued down in someone’s bathroom.”

At this point, you had been fighting off the inclination to assume that the man in front of you was chatting you up for any reason outside of sincere curiosity. But his intentions are made crystal clear when he replies, “Yeah? Care to follow suit?”

You laugh both out of amusement and shock at his forwardness, and even he seems taken aback by his own candor as he smiles in a sheepish, apologetic sort of way. Still, the way that his piercing dark eyes never seem to cease their burning into you, there’s no doubt in your mind that he meant every implication embedded in that response.

“You know, you never told me your name,” you point out, not sure why you are prolonging what feels like the inevitable moment tonight when you’ll find yourself tangled in bed with the handsome man in front of you. Perhaps you’d just like to talk to him for a little bit longer, enjoy the gratification of his attention. Or maybe it’s just fun to tease him and watch the way his eyes crinkle in bashful embarrassment.

You’re pleased when he seems no less interested in you even as you divert from his advances. In fact, he perks up at your observation. “That I did not. Call me pretentious, but I like to think that learning my name is a privilege.”

You show your disinterest in this notion with a scoff, something the stranger seems to take in stride. “Is a man’s name not all that he has in this world, from birth to death?” he asserts with a prideful smirk.

“Philosophical. That your major?”

“How’d you know?”

You’re starting to feel a little scared with just how much you’re beginning to love the sound of your overlapping laughter. When it dies down, you bask in the brief moments of silence where neither of you knows what to say next and instead just stare at each other’s faces in an almost innocent, child-like way. It’s so different from what you’re both feeling inside, anticipation and lust and desire swirling in a mix that makes your bodies feel charged.

“So since you’re not telling me your name, should I tell you mine?”

“Only if you feel I’m worthy of it,” he replies. The game that he’s playing confounds you but you see no harm in playing into it, something tantalizing and freeing about not being bound to the expectations of each other’s names.

“That, my friend,” you reply, “is yet to be decided.” You raise your hand to push against his shoulder, surprised at how sturdy the skin under his cardigan feels. He ricochets dramatically against the force of your hand, and when his body returns to yours, it’s closer than before. He rests his hand on the wall just above your head, the way he’s angled making him appear even taller than he did before.

“You know, I was exploring this house earlier, and there’s a room in the back with a comfortable-looking king-sized bed,” he says, words that would sound fuckboyish and crude if anyone else said them, but come out dorky and amusing when he does, especially when his next statement is, “And the entire time I was in there, all I could think was, wouldn’t it be nice to have someone to pillow fight with?”

You smile, the expression mirrored on the stranger’s handsome face as he watches you react to his off-putting way of flirting. You decide to help him out by being more direct. “Are you asking me to pillow fight with you, stranger?” you ask, voice tilted in your best attempt at sounding seductive.

“Only if you’d be willing, stranger.”

When your roomate convinced you to go out with her tonight, you were intrigued by the notion of getting to know this new campus community, plus the always-tempting chance to get a few drinks in your system. You weren’t thinking that you would be in this position, about to hook up with a guy who won’t even tell you his name. 

You’ve been feigning confidence up until this point, an easy enough task when the man in front of you is good-looking and talkative. But now, as you prepare to follow him with the pretty certain chance of having sex, you have to finish off the remnants of your drink first, allowing the heat of liquid courage to wash over you like a warm blanket.

“Lead the way,” you tell him, taking the hand that he offers you before being led through the crowd of partygoers.

He takes you into a bedroom that’s on the ground floor, allowing you to settle in in front of him as he takes heed to lock the door. The bass from the loud music outside vibrates against the enclosed walls of the room. You’re grateful that it’s not completely silent, otherwise this would feel more awkward. 

“See,” the stranger says, walking over to face you. “I wasn’t lying about the king-sized bed.”

With the way he’s standing over you, combined with the looming implications of what you’re about to do – or rather, what you’re about to let him do to you – you’re too anxious to laugh. Instead, you stare at him, waiting for him to make the first move.

“Do you like to kiss when you hook up?” he asks you, straight-forward and to the point. You like that. You’ve never understood people who don’t like to kiss those they’re having sex with. Is the act of kissing somehow more intimate than letting someone inside you?

“Depends,” you reply, already moving to cradle the side of his face with your hand. “Are you a good kisser?”

He doesn’t answer verbally, moving instead to lean in so that your lips meet. Everything about this man feels like a paradox. Your interactions thus far have felt innocent, awkward even, and yet they still led to you following him into a stranger’s bedroom with the intention of having sex. And now, though his looks and the way he carries himself feel so clumsy, the way he kisses you is intense, all-consuming. 

He wastes no time trying to build up to something intense. Without pretense, his tongue is invading the wetness of your mouth, forcing your lips open as an audible whimper of surprise spills out. One of his hands comes up to lace itself into your hair, and in another act that surprises you, he pulls on it so that your faces come even closer. You’ve never found the taste of liquor on someone’s lips more addicting than you do now. 

You pull away to find a smirk on his lips, cockiness written all over his expression as he asks, “What do you think?”

It’s hard to conjure up any words when his hand is still in your hair, tipping your head back so that his eyes can comfortably rake over your face and particularly linger on your reddened lips. “I think I really, really want you to fuck me,” is what you manage, and even if you were the type to feel shameful at such remarks, it would be hard to when your words visibly light up his handsome expression until he’s kissing you again.

Your lips melt into his in a kiss so passionate it has you both walking backward in an eager effort to get each other onto the bed. You waste no time in pawing the clothes off of his slender body, satisfied as you hear his jeans then his cardigan hit the carpeted floor with a soft plop.

He does the same when it comes to your dress, a flowy, strapless piece that required you to go braless for it to work. Once it’s off and you’re both down to just underwear, you’re met with the feeling of his bare skin against your bare skin, your bare chest against his bare chest, and more relieving than anything else, the feeling of the bed frame meeting the back of your thighs as you finally reach the bed.

Pushing you up onto the edge of the bed, he lets his hands wander the expanse of your body, enjoying the feeling of your tits squeezed in the palms of his hands. You lean into his touch, moaning a little in his mouth as he never stops kissing you, even as he reaches down to breach the waistband of your underwear. 

You don’t realize how wet you are until his slender fingers push out to separate your folds, a task made difficult as your sticky arousal glues your lips together. But he manages it dextrously, wasting no time in finding your clit and drawing slow, teasing circles with the pads of his fingers.

His other hand, which had up until this point been palming your breast idly, now comes up to hold your face as he regretfully pulls his lips from yours. He studies your expressions with furrowed eyebrows, a teasing lilt in his voice as he asks, “Do you like it when I touch you here?” 

Just as soon as you part your lips to respond, his fingers dip lower until he’s sliding two of them into your fluttering hole. Your wetness provides no resistance, and now he’s coiling them deep inside of you. “Or here?”

You can’t think or respond when he’s pumping his long, slender fingers in and out of you, an act made more intense as he forces you to look at him with his hand on your jaw keeping your head in place. 

If you had to describe sex you’ve had in the past, vulnerable isn’t a word you’d use. 

And yet, it’s exactly how you feel as his eyes never leave your face, overseeing every expression you make from overwhelmed to whimpering to having your lips parted in a moan. 

A faint part of you wonders if you should feel more uncomfortable with how intimate this sex feels. 

And yet, you don’t think you’ve ever felt more pent up just with someone's fingers inside of you than right now, especially when he opens his mouth to praise you in his deep voice.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he says, his breezy tone of voice reminiscent of a lullaby. “I’m so glad I met you tonight. Can’t wait to fuck you.”

He fucks his fingers deeper inside of you as he says this, causing you to mewl as you throw your head back in his hands. “Don’t make me wait, then,” you challenge, gripping his arm to steady yourself as another moan threatens its way to your lips.

“Such a needy girl, aren’t you?” he wolfishly remarks. “Well, if you insist.”

With am amused smile on his face, he pulls his fingers out of you, raising them between your two faces so that you both can look on at the wetness which coats them. You’re not at all surprised when he brings them to his lips, only turned on as he sucks both fingers clean with a wet smack.

“Wanna know what you taste like?” he proposes, his expression and tone of voice far too innocent for what he’s just done. You don’t respond, only pull him into you for a kiss so lewd it makes your insides jump. You reach your hand between your bodies as you kiss him, attaching your fingers to the bulge protruding from his boxers. You enjoy the feel of his clothed cock, large and substantial in your hands, before he’s pulling away to sigh against your lips. 

Your hand leaves his body as he moves away from you. “Don’t go anywhere. Need to grab a condom.”

You watch him in amusement as he goes to hunch over his discarded jeans. In his absence, you relax on your stomach, facing him on the edge of the bed. “Where would I go, stranger?”

“I don’t know,” he intones, returning to you with a silver packet in between his fingers. “But If I could freeze you like this forever, so pretty and waiting for me to fuck you, I would.”

The stranger’s way with words has your body responding once more, a ripple of electricity traveling up your legs and even more so when he takes off his boxers in front of you. You’re not ashamed at whatever expression of suprise is surely showing up on your face at the sight. 

You’d likely use the word pretty to describe his dick, veins bulging out of it like little vines and a tip that matches the rosy color of his lips. You decide then that he’s the biggest you’ve ever taken, though you suppose you should save that judgment for when he’s actually managed to fit inside of you.

Your thoughts are broken by his touch as he lifts your chin up with his hands, a smirk ever so prominent on his puffy lips. “My eyes are up here, you know.”

You both giggle at his cheekiness, a moment of humour that is promptly ended when the opening of the condom packet grabs your attention. You reach out to cease his movements with a hand on his wrist. He meets your gaze with a cute, confused look on his face. “Wanna taste you first, stranger” you assert with a blink.

“You’re so cute,” he remarks enjoyably, “But I won’t last if you do.”

You look up at him through your eyelashes, batting them extra hard as you say, “Just a peck?”

As you already suspected from the lack of conviction in his earlier refusal, he’s not at all stern as he moves to rub his thumb across your cheek. “Since you asked so nicely,” he replies permissively.

You barely have to lean forward off the bed for your mouth to reach his cock, tall and straight and hard in front of your face. Wetting your lips with your tongue, you press a kiss just underneath his tip, making eye contact as you pull away to watch as a heavy sigh leaves his lips. You don’t stop at just one peck, peppering them all along his shaft and enjoying the smoothness of his skin against your lips.

“I thought you said just a peck?” he reminds you when he notices what you’re doing, placing a hand on your hair but making no effort to push you away.

“Am I not pecking?” you ask, relishing in the groan he lets out when you wrap your puckered lips over his reddened tip. You’re just about to open your mouth fully before he finally shows some restraint, pulling you off of him with a tug of your hair.

“That’s enough,” he asserts, the mattress dipping from his weight as he hops onto the bed behind you. “If I’m not inside of you within the next 5 seconds, I’m gonna lose my mind.”

Conscious of his presence behind you, you raise your body into an arch and feel pleased when he immediately grabs at your hips to pull you in closer. He ignores the impatient little wiggles of your ass that you do in attempt to get him to fuck you, prefering instead to spread your pussy open with his fingers and groan as he watches arousal spill out of you. “You’re so fucking wet,” he remarks dreamily, sliding a languid finger inside of you in a way that makes your arch deepen. “And it’s all for me, isn’t it, baby?”

His vocal tone has taken a shift so that he sounds less adoring and more sadistic, the observance of your arousal being just for him stated almost matter-a-factly. You don’t know why it turns you on even more than before, but it does, especially as he plays idly with pussy as if he forgets it belongs to a living, breathing you.

You’re fighting off whimpers as his fingers continue their exploration of your entrance. You hear him let out a long, drawn out “Fuck,” under his breath before he’s withdrawing from you entirely and asking, “Can I eat you out?”

Images of his plump, rosy lips flash through your mind like a movie sequence before you’re humming out affirmatively, excitement of what’s to come making your body tense as you feel him laying down on the bed, feel his breath against your mound as he becomes level with your pussy, feel his lips against your clit as he goes in to take all of you in his mouth.

The sounds that fill the room now are nothing but a lewd combination of your moans, his slurping, and the continued blaring of music coming from outside the walls. The way that he eats pussy is almost just as clumsy and unsure as he is, but he somehow manages to make you cry out as his tongue expertly flicks against your clit, or he licks into your entrance to taste the arousal there. 

You feel yourself becoming lightheaded and breathless as he licks you closer into orgasm. Already worked up from all the time he spent fingering you, what feels like the last straw is when he experimentally licks upward and brushes his tongue against the tight skin of your asshole. Noticing how it makes you moan and reach back to pull at his long hair, he keeps going, wetting your ass with his tongue. 

Alternating between this and your cunt, it’s only a matter of time when you find yourself mewling and tensing as your orgasm takes over your body. Your thighs are shaking and your hands are pulling so hard at his hair that you’re afraid you’ll rip it, but nonetheless he holds you up with two large hands against your ass and groans as you come all over his face. 

When he finally pulls away from you, your body collapses against the bed, all the marks of a good orgasm hitting you at once – ringing ears, tensed limbs, rising chest. You’re brought back to Earth by the feeling of faint, fleeting kisses being left on the expanse of your spine, the stranger’s body pressed against yours before he’s level with you and moving to pull your head to face his.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, sweet and innocent in yet another moment of tenderness that feels inappropriate for the setting you’re in. Nonetheless, you nod and relish in the feeling of his mouth against yours once more, acknowledging faintly to yourself that he just might be the best kisser you’ve ever been with.

He brings your body back to life by snaking his arms underneath you, grabbing at your boobs and almost making you feel ticklish as he gently caresses your stomach. Pulling away from your lips, he mutters the command of, “Turn around,” against your lips that you follow with zeal.

Flat on your back, you’re brought face to face with the man who has exceeded your expectations in almost every way compared to anyone else you’ve slept with so casually. Long locks of dark hair drape against the sides of face as he holds himself above you, making him look intense, but only briefly before he’s asking through an impish smile, “Are you intimidated by eye contact?”

He says it to you like it’s a challenge, like he hopes you’ll be shy so that he can guide you through it anyway. You shake your head stubbornly. “No,” you answer, “But I’m intimated by you.” It’s true. You’ve definitely never met a person like him, never had sex feel so intimate with a complete stranger. It scares you.

“Don’t be. I’m really a softie,” he assures, a childlike expression of excitement lighting up his handsome features. He presses a hand against your cheek in a gesture of affection, lips curling into a grin. “Only, my dick is as hard as a rock right now. Kinda wanna bury it inside of you.”

“What’s stopping you?”

You’re surprised when, in reply, he adjusts his body so that he’s lined up perfectly with your entrance, his latex covered tip pressing just slightly into you. “That’s a great question,” he quips, and without any further pretense, he slots himself inside of you.

You let out identical sounding sighs as his cock is engulfed by the sensitive, wet inside of your pussy. He presses his hips against you, making sure he’s as deep as he possibly can be before looking down at you for your approval. “Feels good?”

“Yes. Oh god, yes,” you’re whimpering in reply, head already thrown back as you get used to the feeling of his girth filling you. 

Hearing you express how good you feel is all the stranger needs to hear before he’s pulling out of you, methodically ensuring that just the tip is left inside before pushing back in. His vigor catches you by surprise, leaving you no time to adjust as he continues at a feverish pace. Unintelligible, broken-sounding cries spill out from your lips with each moment his hips meet yours.

“You have such pretty eyes,” he remarks as he watches you, a compliment you don’t think you’ve ever heard before while being fucked into the next dimesion. “And a pretty mouth, too,” he adds, his thumb breaching the wet insides of your lips before he’s leaning down to kiss you. The kiss is messy as you struggle to meet each other’s mouths, devolving into a mixture of tongue and spit and broken breath.

“Talk to me. Tell me how good I’m fucking you,” he groans against your mouth, sitting up on his knees to fuck you in an angle that’s deeper that before. With the pounding that he’s giving you, you’re just barely able to catch your breath, let alone form the words to respond to him.

“Can’t…scream your name if I don’t know it,” you manage to say in a teasing sort-of-way, your smirk widening into an open-mouthed cry as you’re sure he grazes your g-spot with a particualrly deep drive of his hips. 

He chuckles at your way of trying to get him to share his name, and whether he’s truly serious in wanting to withhold it from you or because he just wants to tease you, he says, “Come on my cock, and maybe I’ll tell you.”

“Fuck me harder, and I will,” you reply tauntingly, not because he’s not already, but because even through the haze of your approaching orgasm, you want to see how he’ll respond to your challenge.

He smiles at this request, though while maintaining his same pace. “But I don’t wanna break you, sweet girl,” he remarks, and if he weren’t, too, about to crash into his approaching climax, he’d surely make it a point to tease you for how you clench at the pet name. Instead, he opts to slot a hand between your legs and make work of your clit, rubbing it in tantalizing circles. “Does this help?”

Just as you were sure this sex couldn’t get any better, the added stimulation to your clit has your entire body reeling with pleasure. “Oh god, yes. Don’t stop.”

With each approaching second, you can feel yourself about to fall apart, a condition only worsened when the stranger pulls you down by your hips, bringing him even deeper inside of you. You love the sound of his deep voice from above you, sounding almost far-away and dreamlike as he mumbles remarks like, “Keep making those pretty noises for me, baby,” that shoot straight to your core, only adding to your wetness.

“Fuck, you’re killing me baby,” is what he says as his own pleasure begins to reach it’s peak. You love the expressions he makes, the almost painful look on his face as he says, “Wish I could come inside this tight little pussy.”

Even with the knowledge that he put a condom on, you can’t help but react positively to the notion of being filled with his hot, sticky release. And without intending it, your walls close tightly around his cock in tandem with the loud moan that on its own revealed just how much you enjoyed that little tidbit of dirty talk. And without fail, the stranger is quick to pick up on it and tease you for it, though through his own gritted teeth and groans as he inches closer to release.

“Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you? If I filled you up with my cum? You wanna have my baby and you don’t even know my name?’

It’s the half-degrading, half-awe-inspired tone of voice he uses that throws you over the edge, your thighs shaking in anticipation of what you’re sure will be an earth-shattering orgasm. “I’m close,” you confess through baited breath.

“I know you are,” he acknowledges in reply, and without warning, your body convulses with the strength of your climax. “That’s it. Come on my dick.”

You don’t think you’ve ever felt anything quite like the overwhelming pleasure that washes over you in a series of pulsating, neverending waves. The stranger fucks you through it without any alteration in speed, and it’s just as you’re about to squirm away in overstimulation that he finishes with one last, deep thrust inside of you. The sound of his groans are just as melodic and husky as his voice is, sending little afterschocks of arousal up your belly until finally, he pulls out of you with a grunt.

Looking up at the ceiling, you feel the mattress dip beside you as he collapses onto the bed. Usually, this would be the point where the post-nut clarity hits you and you’d begin to regret another series of bad decisions that led you to a stranger's bed. Instead, as you lock eyes with who might possibly be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, you only wonder what you did to deserve such good fortune to have met him tonight.

“That was fucking amazing, stranger,” he remarks, putting voice to your own exact thoughts as he rolls over so that he can stroke your cheek idly. You try to hold off the pestering inclination to blink so that you can take in the rosy-cheeked, delicately striking state his orgasm has left him in. 

You thought that after giving you what was surely the best pounding of your life that you’d be less inclined to view him as a total weirdo. Instead, there is something so innocent now about the way he looks at you, as he can’t even believe this happened. Wanting to tease him, you reply, “Good enough for me to learn your name?”

He considers your question with an impish chuckle, and though you’re not at all desperate to know his name, you’re still surprised when he replies, “Will you forgive me if I say something tells me I want to keep you hanging for just a little while longer?”

There is an air of mysteriousness to his words that you pick up on but have trouble interpreting. And while you itch to know what’s going on in that big brain of his, you decide not to question him any further, instead just appreciating the ease and contentment of this moment. 

“You’re the strangest person I’ve ever met,” you tell him candidly, leaning in so that the tip of your noses touch. “But I’m glad I met you tonight.”

You’re not embarrassed at all when you lean in to kiss him, because even though the sex is over, you just want to feel his lips against yours one last time before you go back to being two strangers who will likely never see each other after this. He reciprocates, seemingly ignorant to the idea of kissing someone chastely as he pulls you in and slips his tongue into your mouth.

Nevertheless, when you pull away, you know the moment is over when he says, “Walk of shame out the door together?”

You’re not sad, only content as you turn to him and answer. “Let’s.”

It’s a cozy Thursday morning on your campus as you step outside to meet with your friend, Jaehyun. When you had allowed him to borrow your computations textbook, you had no idea it would lead you to his apartment complex, where he swore he had left the book on accident.

“I promise you, I thought I brought it with me to class, but I must’ve left it in my room,” he explained sheepishly, patting his pockets as he searched for his apartment key. With his straight-cut bangs and habit of forgetfulness, Jaehyun was about the closest thing to a friend that you had since transferring. You went to the same high school together, congregating in the same social circles but ultimately going two separate ways after graduation. 

It wasn’t until your first day at this new school that you sat down for your morning class and discovered that Myeong Jaehyun went here, too. Since that moment of recognition on both of your ends, he’s been your only piece of relative familiarly in a place that still feels new to you.

“Here we are,” mumbled a disgruntled Jaehyun as he finally managed to unlock the door to his apartment. It was your first time seeing the place, and as far as student housing went, you were impressed. The space was populated with nice-enough-looking furniture and boyish decorations that you could tell belonged to Jaehyun and whoever his roommate was.

“I’m gonna go get your textbook from my room. You can wait out here,” said Jaehyun, turning to head into the hallway where the rooms were. You were just about to get comfortable, maybe sit on his couch and chill as he invariably spent ages looking for your textbook, until the noise of a door opening startled you into attention.

“Oh hey,” said Jaehyun casually to a familiar silhouette that appeared into the hallway. “Y/N, this is my roommate, Leehan.”

You fought the urge to laugh out loud as you were met with the image of the stranger who, just a few weeks ago, was drilling his cock into you in some of the most mind-blowing sex of your life. When he first came out and hadn’t noticed you yet, he simply looked curious, as if he was coming out of his room to see what was causing the noise. But now, he barely fights off a smirk as he, too, processes your presence. All of this goes unnoticed by an unsuspecting Jaehyun, who proceeds into his room to rummage for your textbook.

Left alone with the boy who you can now identify as Leehan, you look him up and down, taking in his casual appearance and hair that has only grown longer in the time since you last met. He leans against his doorframe, looking you over with a gaze just as intrusive before saying, “So. Y/N, huh?”

Both of you laugh out loud at the same time, the humor and awkwardness of the situation hitting you all at once. The smile on Leehan’s face forces his eyes into crescent shapes that you faintly acknowledge as endearing. 

“Leehan,” you state with a grin, returning the preceding instance of acknowledging each other’s names. “It suits you. Although, I’m not sure it’s special enough to justify you withholding it.”

He shrugs indifferently at that, looking not even a little embarrassed as he replies jokingly, “What can I say? I prefer an air of anonymity when conducting my one-night stands.”

“Is that what that was?” you quip back with a tilt of your head. You know exactly that that’s what it was, but playing coy about it is how you save yourself from the embarrassment of having to address the weird sexual-tension-mixed-with-awkwardness that lingers between the two of you.

He runs a hand through his hair, maintaining the smile on his face as he shrugs noncommittally and replies, “I don’t know, I was too drunk to remember. In fact, who are you again?”

You both giggle, the atmosphere and banter between the two of you surprisingly easy, even outside the context of being drunk at a house party. You can faintly hear the sounds of Jaehyun’s rummaging becoming louder a few doors away, letting you know he’s no closer to finding your textbook. To your own internal surprise, a tiny part of you is relieved to have the time to see where this interaction with Leehan will go.

“So, you’re friends with Myeong Jaehyun?” he asks, gesturing his head in the direction of his roommate’s door just a few feet away. You notice how he slips his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and straightens his posture, a move somehow making him look 10x taller.

“It’s a love/hate sort of thing. But yes, I’ve known him since high school.”

The corner of Leehan’s lips switch into a half-smile, something foreboding in his tone as he then says, “Then I guess I should expect to see you much more often, Y/N.”

You raise a questioning eyebrow, and through a confused grin, ask, “Why do you say that so ominously?”

Leehan doesn’t answer at first and instead just maintains his piercing gaze on your face. He’s so strange, but what’s even stranger is that you find yourself attracted to him. Attracted to him and his weirdly crooked smile and habit of staring at people for longer than normal. His shaggy brown hair and pouty lips that you can’t forget were once meshed with yours.

“No reason,” he finally answers, and before you can question such obviously purposeful ambiguity, it’s just then that Jaehyun comes out with your textbook.

“Found your book,” he says, cradling the thick textbook underneath his arm. Looking over at Leehan, whose open-mouthed expression obviously reveals he was in the middle of saying something, he pauses. “You good, Leehan?”

Leehan maintains a passive expression, though the hints of a smirk just barely bleed onto his lips as he gestures his head in your direction. “Yeah, just talking to Y/N.”

Jaehuun exchanges an inquisitive look between the two of you. “You guys know each other?”

Not sure how to answer that question, you look to Leehan for any non-verbal guidance. And funnily enough, he looks to you with the same sort of expecting look, and now you’re staring at each other for longer than normal, fighting back laughter as a confused Jaehyun looks on.

“You could say that,” Leehan replies, nodding his head affirmatively.

part 2 coming soon

taglist: @lailols @papichulomacy @0310s

comment or send an ask to be added to the taglist!

#leehan #boynextdoor #leehan smut #boynextdoor smut #leehan x reader #leehan fluff #leehan angst #boynextdoor fics #hornychristianprincess #donghyun boynextdoor #boy next door smut #donghyun smut #donghyun boy next door smut #kpop smut #kpop angst #kpop fluff

[polinsated]

@polin-erospsyche said these tags i wrote shouldn't be tags, and i trust her with my possible-inpending embarrassment, apparently, so, here you go:

i adore this look so much. the way colin looks at pen here will never not be used as a defence against people saying polin are 'rushed', or 'have no chemistry', or whatever it is they're saying now. and here's my little take on it.

-> you know how they say, you don't know what you have until it's gone. in this case, colin didn't realise how much he needed pen and her letters until they were gone....

—

this lonely, weary traveller has been away for months. we know his family doesn't often reply to his letters. and although he jokes about it, and they do too, we can all agree that he's upset by this, yes?

so in this moment, he turns around and sees the only person who has been corresponding with him throughout his journeys. he sees the woman who not only responds to every letter he sends but also who does so with genuine interest and fondness. the person who has made him feel like he has had a friend there with him on his travels. i personally believe he was alone for most, if not, nearly all of the time he was away. though, even if he did have some companionship; penelope was his constant for that time.

she has probably been keeping him entertained with stories, making sure he knows his family is okay, and asking him about every detail of his adventures. and in my opinion, i believe she barely ever mentioned herself in these letters. she has really been there with him every step of the way via her open ears (nay eyes) and written words.

and so finally, he sees her there, and i don't think he knows what to do with himself.

does he want to just say hello? probably not - look at his face! does he want to sit down with her right away and ramble on about things he has yet to say? or maybe just tell the same stories - because he knows she will listen, and she will understand, and she will enjoy hearing about them. maybe. does he want to hug her and say thank you? possibly.

my point is that i think he doesn't know what to do. it's such a short look that he doesn't have time to decide. and he's suspended in those moments when he sees her looking back at him with a huge smile on her face. he's overwhelmed.

i may be wrong in this part, but i also think he's a little surprised. he knows pen hangs out with his family a lot, but i don't think he expected her to be there right at that very moment he walked in the door. the man is baffled, to me. and in love.. despite not knowing it yet, hehe.

and it leads me to the sudden and heartbreaking point of 3.01. when colin has finished greeting his family, he turns to look at the featherington house because he notices right away that pen is not there like last time. and now it feels wrong that she isn't.

and if you watch that moment, the exact part when he turns back to his family again, there is something in the way his hands swing loosely at his sides, like a defeated sigh from his body - if you know what i'm trying to say.

his body language, to me, just screams disheartened... dispirited, or whatever other fancy word you'd see fit to use. but it's so subtle...

and then later we find out that penelope didn't respond to any of his letters this time. and i can only imagine how confused he is. because, honestly, he probably forgot about the horrible courting comment he made, and even if he remembered, he doesn't know then that pen heard it. so in his mind he is wondering where on earth his friend is. the possibility that she could be unwell has probably also crossed his mind. he is just - desperate, most likely - at this point to find out what's going on.

the thought of him, on his travels, everyday wondering why there still hasn't been a single letter signed 'penelope' absolutely breaks my heart.

and while i was about to end this post, i just thought about colin actually writing his own letters, and how he might've changed his tone along the way... do you think they ever included such words as something like: "i eagerly await your response." / "i hope to hear from you sometime soon." / "are you well, pen?"

or even this soul destroying, lump in the throat inducing quote that my mind has just come up with: "i've begun to think that there's a possibility you have not received my recent letters. for several weeks i have not heard back. not even a single tidbit about your mama, or my bothersome siblings. i must admit, my travels have not been as such fun or as fascinating as when i have my good friend to tell them to. i hope my writing finds you soon enough, or that yours finds me."

......

anyway, i don't write metas.. or i do and i never post them because i feel stupid and rambly and i'm never sure if it makes sense, but, i'm being a little brave here, haha. (thank you, luwen)

#i am... unsure of this #i'm probably gonna delete it 😫😬 #polin meta #polin spoilers #polin #bridgerton 2x02 #colin x penelope

[accio-victuuri]

xz chongqing photos candies 📷

thank you to xz for sharing some shots from his homecoming! he honestly didn’t have to, he could have just spent time there as he deserves but he is so amazing so we got so many photos!!!! i also think this has something to do with him trending, cause some people saw him eating at a roadside stall.

which kinda reminds us of when wyb was seen in the wild, eating food and just chillin. they both have that simple happiness ya know. doing normal things and i hope they get to that as they are in the same city right now. 🙏🏼

now let’s look at some clownery ⬇️⬇️⬇️

gege is really out here making us all suspicious! 😂 cause look at his lovely selfie. so handsome! but in the background? i mean— it might be yellow or the a different color but the lighting makes the notes behind him look pink and green. the same combo that yibo wore during the olympics event!

and he has plausible deniability again because it’s just behind him — how could he know? he was only taking a random selfie! but is he really?

i swear sometimes he is so sneaky. 👀

since it’s live photos, there was also a flash of green after for this other one. and ✌🏼sign which is wyb’s usual too.

the next one i noticed too cause the installation (p1) is interesting so he could have shared the whole thing right? for the artistic value. but he focused on the expression and that orange ball — making it look like a meme you could use or maybe edit it out. it reminded us of the popular memes related to wyb lately. yes! this is real! even verified accounts and others are using these cuteee wyb memes and expression packs. 😂😂😂

i wouldn’t put it pass him to edit it into wyb’s (p3) then use it while texting him. lol. cpfs are cackling over this one cause it proves he knows how people are loving his memeable boyfriend!

not sure if it’s true or some bug, but apparently the set of photos was posted twice 10:31 and 10:32. why are you absent minded xz? who are you with? where are you??? tho i think xz has staff who can do this for him, i feel like for personal posts and when he is off work — he does it himself.

the photo he took, it has an ad screen beside it where apparently wyb’s milkground is playing!!! 🥹

it was a short trip for xz back home but i hope he had fun! now he is back in Beijing with the love of his life!

i’m kinda nervous what will happen after their time together lol. they might go crazy again 🙃🙃🙃

-END.

#yizhan #bjyx #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do

[ratgrinders]

HIII i’m also a rat grinders fan in the “not interested in pretending they aren’t fucked up” but rather “interested in Why they are so fucked up” way 💥💥💥 i have Thoughts on how the shatterstar ritual affected the rat grinders in different ways and i wanted to know if u had any similar thoughts :3 - @teenagerebellion

THIS IS SUCH A GOOD ASK thank you for sending it!!!!!!!!

Ok so I AM gonna be working off the assumption that a rage crystal functions less like "mind control" and more so amplifying existing feelings to murderous extremes. Think Adaine in the mall fight when she's asked to picture "what would the world look like if all Adaine thought about was rage" and we see a destroyed Sylvaire from Adaine's search for her mother. We know that Adaine would never do that, but we see the underlying motivation is the same.

Off the bat we know Kipperlilly's ritual is different from the others since she chose to do it "willingly" and wasn't forced to choose via death (it's described as having no scar, unlike the others, so she may have not even had to die at all). That doesn't mean though that she wasn't infected with a rage that caused her to do things she never would've done normally, as I don't think Freshman Year Kipperlilly, whose biggest grievances were "I think Aguefort likes them more", would jump to coldblooded murder. I think the fact that Kipperlilly chose the shatterstar affects her mindset pretty greatly going in to rest of the year, because there's no easy way to differentiate between what's "her" and what's the rage star. She probably is constantly thinking things like "This is all me. I am in control of my own faculties. There was no coercion involved I'm just naturally a villain", partially because she doesn't want to admit that she, a mastermind, let herself get controlled like that. Essentially, the ritual itself was so seamless and the descent so gradual, I don't think even Kipperlilly has a strong sense anymore of who she is without rage.

Ruben we know canonically has a bit of amnesia after being revived, not even seeming to remember the entire year he was shatterstarred. Ruben basically has the opposite problem from Kipperlilly, where his change in identity post-shatterstar is so drastic that his sense of self is almost completely eroded, because "how could I have been motivated to become someone like that?". Ruben's not a naturally angry person, but still though, that WAS Ruben, the rage star just tapping in to Ruben's underlying desperate need for approval, emotionality, etc. and bringing it to the forefront. The rage star imbued Ruben with such an intense pain and rage that he felt he could only express it through his music. Post finale revival I think was Ruben just being in shock at how much he's changed, but I think the memories will come back to him and he'll have to reconcile these two Vastly Different versions of himself.

Ivy I believe was still kind of a mean girl before the shatter star, the shatter star just made it more likely for her to say it to people's faces rather than behind their backs. Honestly, I'm imagining her maybe as a young Sandra Lynn before, in the sense of both having this constant bemusement. Beyond that, though, I think Ivy may have been the most likely to take the rage star willingly as opposed to being killed for it (I actually think most of the Rat Grinders still could've been persuaded to take it willingly, but that's a post for another time). Ivy seems to have a lot of pent up rage and disdain for the world around her, and the shatter star only amplified that.

Oisin got buff after getting shatterstarred, which is a really funny canonical fact to think about lmao, because I'm just imagining him doing a bunch of angry push-ups or something. Anyways Oisin before the ritual I'm honestly imagining him to be the type to hang out with guys like Skrank and Shellford, aka those kind of nerdy unpopular guys who nonetheless are still kind of egotistical and little dicks sometimes. (This is actually why I think they were the ones playing pong at the party with Oisin, because they were actually kind of friends before.) Just like Ivy, the rage crystal just gave Oisin more of an excuse to externalize his rage at the world, but I think the main thing it did was just give Oisin a little more self-confidence because now he has all this power backing him up.

Mary Ann was EXACTLY the same before and after the ritual, it was actually a little disconcerting to Jace and Porter and they didn't know what to make of it. The main thing for Mary Ann, I think, is that she really doesn't have much of an emotional stake in the rage ritual, or the beef with the bad kids, or anything like that. She's just Entirely Indifferent to whatever atrocities are being committed, which is just a different type of fucked up lol. Honestly, I think as a barbarian Mary Ann's a bit more used to controlling her rage which is why the rage crystal might've had less of an effect, Lydia Barkrock style.

Buddy's death was so sudden and traumatic, with such a short amount of time to get used to the implications before the finale, I think Buddy's mind is just in a tailspin post-ritual just trying to grab on to anything that makes sense lol. He knows worship and devotion, its been a crutch in his life for so long, and that's what he defaults to when he can no longer reach Helio. In fact it almost seems a bit like a coping mechanism, latching onto it so securely even in the face of all other logic.

#dimension 20 #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #original post #rat grinders #kipperlilly copperkettle #ruben hopclap #ivy embra #oisin hakinvar #buddy dawn #mary ann skuttle

[roronoaism]

♥︎ SECRET LIFE ♥︎

+ warnings: mentions of oral, semi-public sex, secret-ish relationship

+ ft: zoro x gn reader

+ wc: 0.3k

nsfw under cut, minors dni!!!

+ notes: so im (semi) back from my break!! yayyy!! but anyways i was thinking of 'what if zoro was secretly obsessed with you, and like you guys had a secret relationship yap yap yap' and i was like shit, this is cute, lemme make a lil piece. kinda inspired by the genji one i posted on genjist, so that softer side of a typically rougher-ish character is one of my fav things to write!

js want to say its not too heavy on the smut, but it is mentioned, so its nothing too vulgar.

he was infatuated, to put it simply.

no one expected the swordsmen roronoa zoro to take such an interest in a woman, yet here he was, swooning over you.

your relationship with him was secret, kept hidden from the rest of your crew. but it didn't stop him from stealing glances, a soft smile or blush apparent on his face. he'd deny it if sanji or franky made a comment, insisting it was just 'too hot out'.

he worshipped you in private, whispering promises and praise to you. pulling you to the side when no one is around to kiss you, hiding in closets or empty rooms to quickly eat you out.

he didn't mind the secrecy, in fact it made it more attractive in his mind. his secret possession over you.

the crew had suspicions, ranging from knowing glances snuck by nami and robin, to sanji's vulgar comments and remarks. but no one spoke it aloud, instead watching your actions speak for themselves. your hand lingering on his more than usual, a knowing smile on the face, a blush coating zoro's cheeks.

and it was hard to hide the moans that occasionally seeped through the walls when you two were a little too loud and rowdy, hiding in the shower room or kitchen late at night. you opted to play it off as sanji, but everyone had their ideas.

it might not be the best kept secret, but zoro couldn't deny it. the nightly kisses on your forehead and cheeks were enough for him, even the small burn in his heart whenever he saw you,

he loved your secret life, he loved you.

©2024 roronoaism - please do not repost or translate my works on other media sites ♡

#zoro x reader #zoro #zoro roronoa #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro smut #zoro x reader smut #one piece #one piece smut #♥ - vinnies corner

[angelinthefire]

There is a “would Dean kill Cas to save Sam” poll going round I think you’d find interesting and which compelled me to unleash thoughts at you. I often wonder why fandom (both hellers and bronlies) ignores the fascinating examples in canon where Dean’s “Sam before anything else” ideology is threatened by Castiel. the BEST example of this is when Cas premeditatedly and with full agency breaks Sam’s wall as collateral damage — and Dean forgives him in the blink of an eye! If that were anyone else who’d done that to Sam they would be a dead man. Yes Dean was mad about it, yet the next season (BEFORE Cas redeems himself by taking on Sam’s hell trauma) Dean literally tells Cas “you were doing the best you could” (girl…).

Other key examples: Dean staying in Purgatory for an additional year to find Cas (rather than prioritising going back to find Sam, and this is after Cas broke Sam’s brain mind you); deciding to basically kill himself in s13 after Cas has died (despite Sam being alive and well); telling Chuck he’s wiling to kill Sam if it’ll bring Cas back. If the Bronly tenet that all Dean needs to be happy is Sam then hell, why does Dean beg Sam to let him die in the series finale.

I will note that Dean kicking Cas out of the bunker in s9 is thrown around constantly but there was literally a gun to Sam’s head at that point. Dean was tormented about it and still snuck off to see Cas although it may have been unwise in that situation.

Also interesting to note that Sam isn’t the only one; Castiel has also served as a threat to Dean’s other representations of family. in s6 Cas ~betrays Dean by colluding with Crowley, who kidnaps Lisa and Ben, which eventually leads to Dean deciding to memory wipe Lisa. In s14 Dean literally *blames Cas in part for Mary’s death*! And yet still forgives him?? (As s13 showed, Dean can live better without Mary than he can without Cas.) This is really intriguing/toxic element of Destiel that is hardly explored in fandom, which is that Dean associates Cas with danger to the rest of his family/his role as protector of his family and therefore his relationship with him is a weakness that he will regret. Add to the fact that Cas has proven time and again to not be a safe/reliable object of affection (see above examples, and also repeatedly leaving/dying) and it’s very plain why Dean would have reason to fear/suppress/compartmentalise romantic feelings between them — because they would be an even greater source of pain.

Curious to get your thoughts on this!!

Thank you for the message!

Regarding the first point: I think there's a fairly typical thing going on of fan simplifying characters and their motivations. Does Dean love and care about Sam? Yes. Was Dean's duty to Sam something that was drilled into him as something that he had no choice over? And something that was reinforced through their forced isolation from the rest of society? Also yes. So what happens when Dean has someone that he has grown to love on his own terms? And who he never has to worry about alienating, someone who could actually be part of his life? Something very interesting!

I looooove the s6/7 example so much, because Dean really isn't ever angry at Cas for hurting Sam, he's angry at Cas for not listening to him. And even then, not really - his anger at Cas in 7x01 is much more something that Dean is using as a sheild, something to cover his own hurt, than anything else. And then the second it looks like Cas is going to turn around and come back to him, all that anger evaporates.

s8 was soooo vindicating as well when it aired, because all summer the bronlies were like, "Dean's motivation in Purgatory will be that he's trying to get back to Sam!" And then it WASN'T. This is another thing too, that bronlies will try to make it out like Sam is the only one that Dean will go to extreme lengths for, that Dean isn't a *generally* nurturing type of person who *wants* a bigger family and to not be so socially isolated. But throughout the entire show, Dean is constantly drawing people around himself. And we do see how Dean is willing to go to great lengths for Cas. Of course, a lot of the time, Dean is convinced that he's powerless to do anything when it comes to saving Cas, but Purgatory was one time when he wasn't, and we see what happens.

(And the thing is I do get where the bronlies are coming from in their understanding of the show, in an abstract sense. Like objectively, if someone were to tell me that there's a story about two brothers, that only have eachother against the world, and they have a super-intense relationship, and all they care about is each other and fighting monsters, and there's a dark, gothic vibe to it, I could see why someone would be into that. Like it's not my jam, but abstractly, I see it. But the thing is, that reading of the show does not hold up to contact with canon - and none of them want to admit that.)

The series finale is so weird when you think about it. Because bronlies hold it up as a win. But it is Dean taken down to a place where all he has is Sam and hunting, and then deciding that he has nothing to live for.

s9 was just a mess. Kicking Cas out of the bunker was so contrived. And then what everyone forgets is how incredibly happy and jazzed Dean was when he thought Cas was going to be living with them. The thing I'm most bitter about is that they couldn't have given us at least one episode of Dean and Cas being absolutely goofy happy around each other before constructing a situation to get Cas out of the picture.

Your last paragraph is interesting, and something to think about. The way I see it, is that Cas has entered a special tier of relationships with Dean, where Dean will hold on to him no matter what. I don't think Lisa and Ben are a good example for your point, actually, because I think Dean blames himself for what happened to them more than anyone else, which is reflected in his final interaction with them when he says he hit them with his car and is happy they can go on with their lives (or something of that nature, I forget).

Mary's death is interesting though. The only thing comparable to something like that happening before is when Dean blames Sam for Charlie's death (and what Dean says to Sam - "I think it should be you on that pyre instead of her" - is actually way more harsh than what Dean says to Cas). But Dean does forgive Sam, and he does forgive Cas - again, they're on a special tier, where Dean values them no matter what. And you see that throughout the divorce arc, where Dean keeps checking in on Cas and showing concern for him, in spite of how he feels at the moment - like he knows througout that the rift him and Cas are going through isn't going to last forever.

I think all of Dean's closest relationships are toxic, just as a result of the way he was raised and the kind of life he leads. With Sam, John, Mary, Jack, and Cas. The relationships that aren't toxic are the ones where they aren't physically around each other that much (like Charlie), or with Bobby, who has the level of experience to not get caught up in bullshit. With all of them, the death toll doesn't really matter (like Mary endangered Cas too, and Dean forgave her). Dean just tends to not let go of the people around him.

I think a big barrier for Dean and Cas is actually neither of them having any kind of reference model for what they are to one another. All of Dean's romantic relationships have been filled with secrets, and the knowledge that his partner cannot share his life with him. Dean calls Cas his "brother" in s6 and s11, because to him, that's the closest you can be to someone. That changes to "best friend", which is better, because it doesn't have the same connotation of obligation and responsibility - your best friend is someone you actually like being around. And it's a title that is uniquely Castiel's.

And in general he has trouble categorizing Castiel. Like he keeps trying to put Cas in human boxes that he doesn't actually fit within. He repeatedly indicates that he thinks of Cas as just a guy, and then Cas acts in ways that defy that category.

So yeah, I guess I don't really think that Dean sees Cas as unsafe. It's more that Dean just isn't thinking of romantic relationships as a possibility for himself. And he doesn't quite know how to categorize what he and Cas are to each other (and the fact that Cas is a dude may or may not play into that, depending on how much you think Dean grapples with internalized homophobia). And they're both generally fucked up.

It's an interesting idea, though, that Dean sees Cas as a danger, that I'd be interested in seeing explored more in posts or fic.

#spn #destiel #my commentary #dean winchester #castiel #ask #anonymous

[oddeyes588]

A little late to the party but I do have some thoughts about Fantasy High Junior Year now that it's over. First of all, overall? Great season, had lots of laughs... but man, is it just me, or were there a lot of parts in this season that just... were kind of annoying? For me specifically, two big things... and no, I'm not talking about the Rat Grinders. While I'm a little disappointed with how that ended, I'm not too bothered.

Like, idk if this is a hot take or not, because they were arguably the biggest parts of this season... but I found myself especially annoyed and/or disappointed about K2 and Porter.

Like, don't get me wrong, I thought K2 was funny—especially at first—and Porter being the main villain of the season was 100% for the bit and I can respect that... but man, I couldn't help but be disappointed with Porter going full irredeemably evil, as well as just straight-up annoyed by K2's existence (at least in regards to the story. gameplaywise, making a homunculus of their cleric was VERY smart) (oh god if K2 exists in our world now she might come after me. dont forget me).

In regards to Porter... he was for sure an ass, he caused Gorgug a lot of grief with the MCAT, but he also had such a really sweet moment with him when that thing finally got signed?? It was very, like, not a perfect teacher but someone who did have his best interests in mind, paired with a really nice message about how it's alright to get mad. It was an important part of Gorgug's character growth this season! Integral to unlocking his Barbificer subclass!

...and then all of that just gets thrown away because turns out Porter was evil the whole time and this was all just leading up to his big master plan of killing a god and becoming a god of war. He was never offering genuine advice, he never cared about Gorgug or had his best interests in mind, he thought Gorgug's fascination with Artificing was stupid... and now he's dead. The End.

And that just feels... really disappointing, honestly. He was a chill guy, and yeah he had no right to bar Gorgug from pursuing what he wants and force him to take so many years of school in a single year, but it also resulted in some serious growth on Gorgug's part! It was great! Him being Evil The Whole Time felt... almost like a character assassination, honestly.

And then... there's K2...

I'm gonna be real here. I don't care if using a homunculus and shit for multiple divine intervention rolls is how it actually works in the rulebooks, and I know that objectively having more rolls is always better, especially when the stakes are high... and especially considering that Ally was not getting the rolls they needed otherwise.

This was hilarious. It was also supremely annoying, because it just fully took away from any big moment Kristen could've had this season regarding her and Cassandra after her creation... and this happened TWICE.

Like, from a storytelling perspective, I feel Brennan's pain viscerally. These episodes were truly such an experience for me, because on one hand, I was laughing at the sheer comedy of it all... but there was another part of my brain thinking this truly, truly sucked.

Kristen was figuring out her devotion to Cassandra, finding an understanding in what her role as Cassandra's cleric is... and right at the end of the season all of that kind of comes to a halt because in the end K2 did the divine interventions.

...Well, at least that still leaves some room for whatever Kristen will have to deal with in Senior year. Unlike Porter, who is dead and gone and we're definitely not bringing him back.

#also anybody else think its weird that kalina is still evil? #like that feels like a decision brennan made on the spot that's just him going along with what his players think because it'd be funny #and/or it can lead into senior year #but i thought it was made expressly clear via insight checks that she was GENUINELY worried and tried to keep cassandra safe #at least until she got hit with a rage star #and even then she provided a crucial hint with “Ragh Barkrock” #like ik she was a bitch last season but aside from the astral plane mall—which can be read as just a genuine mistake #shes done nothing but help in what limited ways were available to her #but now shes... also evil now. evil still. i guess #fantasy high #dimension 20 #dimension 20 fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #odd rambles #Youtube

[mtchee]

Inconspicuous Observations - [Albedo Kreideprinz] GN

blurb:

You thought your little crush on Albedo was a secret only you would know. However, you suspect that might not be the case when the very subject of your affections seems to know more than he lets on...

cw: not edited, second-person-pov, reject shop paimon, albedo is kind of a little shit??, sucrose bless her heart, i made [name] competent are u proud, 16+ suggestiveness, no smut but relatively implied

| masterlist | genshin impact collection |

[2.4k]

"Huh," You hum to yourself, "he's actually here for once..."

You eye down a particular blond alchemist as he chats to Timaeus over the alchemy crafting table.

You blink, physically spinning around a couple times, "Where's Sucrose?"

"Think she might still be up in Dragonspine?" Your sunset coloured companion, Kiko, provides some food for thought.

"Mm, no. I don't think so," You avert your eyes from Albedo and continue your way towards Good Hunter with a create of fresh produce, "Sucrose can't handle much cold, and she gets too scared if she's by herself."

"Eh? But she's always couped up in her lab anyway..."

"Yeah, but Dragonspine's a whole other kind of isolation."

"I guess so." Kiko hums, floating beside you idly.

The two of you approach Sara at the counter, where the woman gives you a bright smile.

"Ah! Yes, thanks so much! Just leave those by the kitchenette, I'll handle them from here," Sara bows her head thankfully before handing you a bag of rewards, "what would we do without you?"

"You'd manage perfectly fine, I'm sure," You grin sheepishly, "thanks, Sara! I'll take you up on that lunch offer tomorrow if that's okay with you..?"

"Sure thing," In compensation for one of her most recent requests, the owner of Good Hunter promised a hearty meal without cost, "see you tomorrow!"

"Bye bye!" Kiko waves dutifully, you giving out one last smile before heading off.

As they you the plaza, your eyes draw over the chief alchemist, drinking in his usually rare appearance in Mondstadt.

"Psst," Kiko mutters loudly, "you're staring again..."

"Shit--" You snap your gaze away and book it from the plaza, ignorant of the way Timaeus and Albedo's attention darts to you momentarily—the latter with a light chuckle.

"—I was not."

"Don't start." Kiko deadpans, "I don't mean to make this worse for you—"

"Then don't—"

"—But I'm pretty sure he was staring back."

"Shut." You glare at your floaty friend, "you are gonna get me caught out."

You huff, crossing your arms as you head towards the Favonious library.

"And I can't have that."

"C-Caught..?"

"Oh!" You reel back, almost bumping into your mint haired friend.

Sucrose flinches back slightly, having expected an impact, but simply gives a small smile as she fixes her glasses back in place.

"Sucrose, hey!"

"Hi," She waves meekly, a couple of books clutched to her chest, "hav-have you seen Mister Albedo anywhere...? I-I'm suppose to be watching my experiment at home but he needed these books at noon..."

"Mm, sure. I saw him in the plaza before, with Timaeus. Do you need any help? How come you guys aren't in Dragonspine?"

"Well, we've recently had a breakthrough in one of our elemental analyses and had to report it back to Acting Grand Master Jean," Sucrose shuffles her feet, not necessarily in discomfort, but mainly out of habit, "s-so we decided to break in Mondstadt for a while. Um... I, uh, I heard that Mister Albedo has found some other source of interest recently! And... And he's been insistent on pursuing it for a while now..."

"Really?" You tilt your head curiously, "huh, interesting... well, good for him! Fill me in on the details of your experiment later, yeah? I won't hold you up anymore."

You don't have the biggest interest in alchemy, though understanding certain aspects of the science came naturally to you--plus, it's something Sucrose is passionate about.

You didn't mind sitting through one of her long tangents, seeing as it made her happy she has a friend willing to listen.

"Oh, alright. S-Sure! Thanks, [name]!" Sucrose flushes, smiling at you before you off, "may the wind lead..!"

"Mister Albedo!" You blurt out in surprise once you reach your home in Springvale.

It's been a few days since you and your mushroom fairy companion ran into Sucrose and learnt about their little break--but it was odd to see the chief alchemist so far outside of Mondstadt's walls, unless he was in Dragonspine.

Said male turns around with a pleasant hum of surprise, though his expression didn't portray such.

As a matter of fact, he looked as though he had been expecting you.

"Oh, [name]," He smiles gently, "pleasure to see you again. I was just looking for you, acutally."

Ah, that makes sense then.

"Really now?" You return his greeting with a slightly stressed smile, reaching up to rub the back of your neck.

Albedo hums affirmatively, "Indeed."

There's a hint of smugness hidden within his expression, shown through the subtle inward bend of his brows and his low smile, "I missed you at the plaza the other day, after I concluded my conversation with Timaeus, if you recall?"

"Oh, right..." You swallow uncomfortably at having been caught out, "y-yeah. Sorry, I didn't want to bug you."

"It would be no trouble at all, really," Albedo reassures, "I've recently concluded some reports and have returned to Mondstadt for a while to recouporate. Like I said, I was looking for you anyhow."

"Ah, I heard about that from Sucrose," You brighten before shrinking back in on yourself, "is... there something I can do for you?"

"Mm," Albedo nods, clasping his hands in front of him as he takes a step closer.

"I was wanting to invite you to join me for an unforseen amount of time within the next few days. Nothing major, don't worry. There's just... something I've been meaning to look into, and the company would be muchly appreciated."

Maintaining eye contact with the jittery individual in front of him, he makes sure to keep your focus on his face while he reaches out to grasp one of your hands between his.

He caresses your knuckles gently, a cheeky glint appearing in his eyes at his accomplishment.

"Me? Oh, uh... sure!" You beam, feeling your neck grow warm.

You remain oblivious to his proximity and his gentle hold on your hand for the time being.

"Is there anything you'd need me to... do..?" You swallow nervously, eyes widening a fraction at the feeling of his fingers tracing the line of your wrist.

You feel your mouth go dry, but play it off with another stressed smile.

Albedo gives you an uncharictaristically sweet, closed eyed grin.

"Nothing at all, dearest. You being there will be more than enough."

--Aaaand your heart drops to your stomach. He knows.

He knows something.

Your eyes flutter as a wave of panic rushes through you, though you force yourself to keep still. Your body tenses ever so slightly, and your surging thoughts leave your ears deaf to the light chuckle from Albedo's lips.

As he opens his eyes and gives you another, though much softer, smile, you can't help but feel as if he can peer into your mind; making you feel tingly and vulnerable for no more than a split second before you console yourself with rationality.

And so that's what you do for the next three days.

Frantically compose yourself from the panic Albedo induces with his unusually long stares, flustering words, and oddly sweet actions.

In his job as an alchemist, you understand that most of Albedo's habits and tidbit traits have stemmed from his work—hence his pensive stare and blunt tone.

But (from what you can recall) the past three days have been extremely unwarranted.

On the first day, after waving bye to Kiko who promised to look after the house, Albedo took you to the Stormbearer Mountains to sample some valberries.

You were happy to oblige, weaving a basket with your recently aquired dendro vision before skipping back and forth between valberry bushes to collect the fruit.

Albedo didn't contribute to much, which was fine--instead, he often stood by and watched you. At one point he stopped you to ask if you could grow a valberry plant of your own so he could sample the potential difference between a natural borne fruit, and one born through a vision.

You were hesitant at first, unsure if you had the capability to create such produce so quickly due to your inexperience.

However, after some encouragement from Albedo, you managed to do so—jumping up and celebrating happily whilst the blond smiled fondly.

On the second day, you went to explore the windwheel asters by the border of Stormterror's lair.

You were a bit tense the entire time because of the unknown territory.

Albedo on the other hand, was rather confident; he offered you an arm and, with the promise to protect you, led you just below the cliffs of the windy ruins.

You collected a few of the orange flowers, and the chief alchemist was rather affectionate with his actions. Aware of his friend's unease, he often stuck close to you, even resting an arm around your waist and holding your hand as he led you around.

The third day really set it off for you.

The time, you ventured to the point of Starsnatch Cliff to collect cecelias. Albedo hadn't disclosed the purpose for the collection of this particular flora, but you didn't really mind anyway.

Rather than exploring during the day, as you had done prior, you went during late noon which later transformed into the darkened evening.

Starsnatch cliff was rather peaceful; the night warm and accompanied by a lovely breeze. You had been humming to yourself quietly whilst collection cecelias, Albedo watching dutifully on standby.

You didn't make as much conversation this time—but when you did it constantly ended with you in a silently panicking mess.

"Mister Albedo, are you sure you want to do this so late? It's already quite dark..."

"Not to worry, [name]. You are the only light I need."

"Oh wow, the stars are so pretty tonight."

"Mm, I suppose they are indeed. Although, they certainly dull in comparison to the glisten in your eyes."

"Uhm... Mister Albedo? I've gathered these ones so far..."

"Oh? A bouquet? For Me?"

"W-Wha—? I—What are you on about? You asked me to collect these..!"

Which leads you to now.

Couped up in Albedo's study by the Favonious headquarters, with you pointing an accusing finger at the bemused alchemist.

Your resolve wavers, and as your eyes flutter, you're quick to drop your defensive stance. You'd met with Albedo in his office after he'd called for you the following day, the man having recently just disclosed the purpose behind your outings.

You take in a sharp breath before exhaling.

"...What do you mean you've been... examining me..?"

Albedo tilts his head with wide doe eyes as though the answer is obvious. He gives a small smile.

"It's as I have stated, I've been observing you. I've taken meticulous notes on your usual behavoural patterns and quirks—unwritten, I should mention," He says like that clears things up, "I've wanted to keep this information to myself."

He continues to watch you and your reaction to his words. His eyes grow half-lidded at the sight of your jaw locking in place--not from anger, but out of embarrassment.

He grins softly at the sight of you raising your shoulders defensively, attempting to make yourself smaller in hopes of shrinking away.

"Okay, well," You dart your eyes off to the side, "why?"

The blond's grin is no longer as soft, though is by no means malicious, "I believe you already know why."

Your stomach drops, and you feel humiliation wash over you.

Just your fucking luck.

He's observant.

Incredibly so--his golden oval eyes are often the cause of your nerves, his hard stare making you feel as though he can see right through you.

Albedo's intelligence is undoubtably terrifying.

While it's evidently helpful in terms of evolution and alchemy, it does no good in keeping your secrets, well, secret.

You have a hard time keeping your mouth shut as it is, and Albedo's piercing stare only makes it harder.

As if sensing your panic, the chief alchemist closes his eyes momentarily with a gentle hum before standing up from behind his desk.

He moves around it, making his way in front of the—mildly petrified—individual.

He opens his eyes again, looking at you with a knowing gaze that makes your knees weak. You open your mouth to speak, bundling up your courage before pathetically tripping on your tongue when the blond simply quirks up a brow in question.

Albedo huffs out a quiet laugh. He leans forwards slowly, stopping only inches from your face.

He hums at your panicked expression--the need to both run but the dying will to stay tears you up inside.

He smiles softly, "...May I?"

You blink.

And then nod.

Albedo tilts his head teasingly at your lack of words, and he reiterates himself, "Is this okay?"

He leans closer once more.

Your eyes flutter in disbelief before you swallow and reply.

"Archons, yes."

He kisses you with a gentle hum, savouring the feeling of your lips against his.

You, testing the waters, hesitantly attempt to deepen the kiss. A relieved sigh escapes your nose when Albedo doesn't fuss and simply follows your lead.

You flinch at the feeling of his hands coming to grip your waist, squeaking when he squeezes you affectionately. You wrap your own arms around his shoulders, hands perched behind his neck.

With your tongue swiping against his lips, you become pleasantly surprised when he opens his mouth to invite you in, only to suckle on your tongue with a quiet moan. You feel yourself flush in embarrassment, and the urge to hide away returns as you try to slink away.

Albedo doesn't let you get very far.

He parts the kiss with slightly swollen lips, taking a moment to breath before diving back in for more, pressing you against the door for leverage.

One of your legs subconsciously rise in an attempt to curl in on yourself—and so he grabs it, wrapping it around his hip and locking you in place.

Your breath hitches in your throat, forcing out a high pitched groan. Your given little to no time to dwell on the embarassing noise before the man attacks your neck in a series of kisses and licks.

As his hands trail all over your body, he begins to feel you tremble and arch for his touch.

With your hands reaching into his hair, he moves his mouth further down your body, soaking in every whimper and moan and cry that escapes it.

He bites back a knowing smile, a red blush coating the apple of his pale cheeks.

It seems he had kept you both waiting for a little too long for this.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #gi x reader #x reader #character x reader #albedo x reader #albedo kreideprinz x reader #mtchee's library #mtchee's tea & story house #spicy content

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Could i request G, I, L, O, and U for Mihawk with the alphabet please? I love your takes on these characters.

Aww, thank you!

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

His love for you isn't a game, but by god does he love the thrill of a good hunt. His darling being feisty is ideal for him. With his dream already being well achieved, he's honestly quite bored in his day to day life. Terrorizing random pirates that irk him in one way or another only entertains him so much. He needs something with real substance, and that comes in the form of playing a cat and mouse game with you (he frequently calls you his little mouse as a term of endearment and slight teasing jab).

Fighting back against him and running away is an extremely frustrating process, and not just because of how unsuccessful it is. No, it's his attitude that drives you up the wall. He keeps giving you critiques and pointers. You tried to run while he slept? He's admonishing you for not even trying to drug or poison him. You tried to fight him? He's correcting your stance, your hold on the weapon, and your technique the entire time. You made some elaborate escape plan? He calls it cliche and says that he knows you can do better than that. All of this combined almost makes you want to throw in the towel and sit quietly in his castle just to spite him.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

While he adores the fun of you running away and fighting him, he does hope that you'll settle down and come to love him eventually. Even then, he still wants you to be a little feisty. Like having some playfully sharp banter and doing little things to get a rise out of each other. Think like a somewhat vitriolic spin on a Morticia and Gomez Addams type relationship.

Outside of that, he wants to have a quaint life with you in his castle. He'd also like to teach you how to fight with a sword because he does want you to be self sufficient to a degree, plus he considers it to be a fun bonding activity. Once you've calmed down, he plans to marry you. The rings will be uniquely gothic yet simple, and you'll have a quiet ceremony in his garden... At least it was quiet until Shanks and company showed up because they someone caught wind of this despite Mihawk's best effort.

Mihawk isn't super interested in children, but he doesn't hate the idea either. On one hand, he thinks that Perona's spontaneous appearances are enough, but if you two were to have a surprise baby or some kid washed up on shore, he wouldn't be upset about it.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

In hindsight, it's a little embarrassing how easily he drew you in. Mihawk is an attractive and charming man. The first interactions are short and sweet. They give you a taste while still maintaining an air of mystery. He gives you little gifts, like an article of clothing that he thought would suit you or some well-aged wine that he made himself. After that stage, he offers for you to come have dinner at his home. At that point, he's been a suave gentleman, so you see no reason to turn down him. What you don't realize is that he has no intention of letting you leave once you're there. That will be an after dinner surprise for you.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Beyond trapping you on his island, you're pretty much free to do whatever your heart desires. He won't even disarm you because as mentioned in G, he loves a good fight. On top of that, he won't force you to do anything with him besides just staying on the island. If you two kiss, it's only going to be because you initiated it. He wants you to want him, and he also admittedly gets a kick out of how annoyed you are when you start to want him due to him being one of the very few people you ever get to interact with. He won't harm you either because he simply finds no reason to. It's not like you're going to be any real threat to him, so hurting you would be like a hunter giving a handicap to a baby deer.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

A few things: He enjoys your fighting and escape attempts, he's shockingly respectful of some of your boundaries, and he isn't prone to jealousy.

#dracule mihawk #hawkeyes mihawk #one piece #yandere one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #reader insert #x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #yandere alphabet #ceridawn #yandere

[annwrites]

happy birthday, billy

— pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader

— type: ficlet

— summary: you give billy a b-day gift.

— tags: billy being sad, until you make him happy.

— tw: mentions of domestic violence

— word count: 673

— a/n: this is an outtake from my thoroughfare series. for once i didn't use a gif, bc nothing i came across fit for this post, so to google images i went lol.

When you enter class, you’re filled with nerves. This was a stupid idea. But Billy had given you a handful of moments of kindness—something he didn’t seem to tend to show toward many others—and they meant something to you. A great deal. A greater deal than you wanted to admit. 

Some nights, you’d lie awake, your door locked, as you listened to your father yelling, breaking things, and tears would stream down your face, lip trembling, body shaking in fear that he’d finally turn toward your room, break down the door, and make you his next target. 

And during those nights, your thoughts would drift toward those memories of him. Billy. His moments of honest vulnerability toward you. Somehow, going away into your mind and reliving such events comforted you. 

You wanted to repay the favor. Today was his birthday. Eighteen, you believed, he was turning.

Maybe he’d make fun of you for it. Maybe he’d throw the gift back in your face and tell you how much he hated it; that it was ugly. To take it back. 

Maybe he’d tell you that you were stupid to think those moments of kindness ever meant anything, when, in reality, they were his way of trying to get in close to you to finally get between your thighs. That’s what it seemed he desired from most girls at school. And he always seemed to get it, too.

What if he thought it was you finally showing…that kind of interest in him? Or he perceived it as you trying to lead him on? What if he made some smart-mouth comment about it, causing a scene, and your classmates got the wrong impression?

You sigh. He can think what he wants. What’s important is that you know why you’d gotten it: to say ‘thank you’. 

Billy smirks as you come closer to your desk, then glances to the small black box, complete with a blue ribbon wrapped around it, in your hand. He nearly frowns then. Had someone—some douchebag here at school, perhaps—given you a gift today? It’s not like it was your birthday. He’d checked the calendar at the front of the classroom for it a week after coming to Hawkins, and it’d turned out it had passed a month before he ever even joined the class. 

It was his, however, but it’s not like anyone paid enough attention to care. Not even his dad. Or his ignorant step-mom, or pain-in-the-ass step-sister. He tells himself it’s just another day, anyway. Doesn’t fucking matter.

After setting your things down on your desk, you set the box atop his with a warm, gentle smile. “Happy birthday, Billy,” you say quietly.

He stares at you, speechless, mind blank from just those three words. And then he looks at the box. Finally, he sits up, feet planted on the floor, as he picks it up. He wants to make a smart-ass comment—needs to—because the way he really feels right now…he can’t let you see that. That this means…so fucking much to him. 

You’d…you’d remembered. Had gotten him something, packaged it, even. This had been planned.

He keeps his mouth shut, pulling at the ribbon, letting it fall to the desk before pulling open the lid and finding a plain, silver-chain necklace inside.

He looks up to you.

You shift on your feet, your right hand coming to grab your left forearm. “I…I wasn’t sure what to get. I saw your ring and just thought… If you don’t like it, the receipt is in the box. You can always return it, or-”

You watch as he gingerly picks it up, unclasps it, then fastens it around his neck. 

You grow quiet then. 

“Thank you,” he says, glancing up to you, then back down to the box as he places the ribbon inside, closing it before shoving it into his jacket pocket. 

You smile again. “You’re welcome. Are…are you eighteen, then?”

He nods.

You do as well, just once, then sit before class starts.

He doesn’t pull your hair that day.

#fic: stranger things (billy hargrove x reader) #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader