#i actually consider this moment in the game to be quite. heavy

[dreamychaika]

what it looks like during your first playthrough

#i actually consider this moment in the game to be quite. heavy #like yeah i drew them being silly but that is NOT how it went LOL #omori #omori basil #omori sunny #basil omori #sunny omori #also i didnt paint over the youtube user's icon this is just how youtube looks like in my country. nobody has profile pics #.png

[kiss-me-cill-me]

Predator

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Summary: You are obsessed with Jonathan Crane. And tonight, you're finally going to show him just how much you love him - even if he might not remember the encounter. But when things don't go according to plan, you are the one forced to deal with the consequences. Not that you're complaining...

Warnings: DUB-CON smut (the con is extremely dub on both sides here, folks), mentions of non-con, stalking, yandere!reader, loss of control, mind games, needles, mentions of drugs, mentions of sex work, oral (m receiving), deepthroating, degradation, praise, name-calling, multiple orgasms

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

Your heels tap against the tile, clicking like a raptor’s talons, as you make your way across the hotel lobby. You smile, leaning over the counter to talk to the concierge, and try to look a little embarrassed.

“I'm so sorry to bother you,” you say. The hotel clerk is staring, not quite subtly, at your breasts, which is exactly where you want him to look. “But I seem to have lost my room key. May I have another one?”

The clerk collects himself; puts on his business voice as his fingers poise above his keyboard.

“Of course,” he replies. “Name on the reservation?”

“Crane. Jonathan.”

The clerk types rapidly for a moment, and then looks back at you.

“I'm sorry, miss, but I'm only showing one person on this reservation. You're not, ah…”

“Mmm.” You smile. “My boyfriend is here on a business trip. Speaking at the big conference in town. I'm not… exactly supposed to be here with him. I'm sure he wouldn't have told his work I'd be staying with him.”

Your voice drops just a bit lower, hinting at conspiracy. You consider winking, but decide against it. No need to oversell things.

“Boyfriend. Is that right?” the hotel clerk drawls. He looks you up and down briefly.

Rage flashes white hot behind your eyes, there and gone too fast for him to notice. This man assumes that you're some kind of prostitute. You can see it on his face, and it angers you. You're infuriated that he doesn't believe what you’ve told him. Though of course, it's not as if you're telling the truth. 

“That's right,” you agree, pleasantly. “And I'm afraid I'm in a bit of a rush. I'm dying to get out of this dress.”

You only have to act a little. The tight black dress you're wearing really is uncomfortable, but to play the part you have to dress the part. And besides, you want to look your best tonight.

The image of you undressing seems to be enough to convince the man, who turns back to his computer and starts typing again. You're not proud of throwing yourself around like this. Honestly, you would prefer it if no one but Crane got to enjoy you tonight - even if having him actually see you would throw a wrench into your plans. But you have to do what it takes to get your prize, and you're not above using the tactics that work.

“Could you just confirm the room number for me?” asks the hotel clerk, in a last-ditch effort to preserve some of his professionalism.

“Three-oh-three,” you say with a smile.

The clerk hands over a key card.

“Have a nice night,” he tells you.

You thank him. Snatch the card and walk away, toward the elevators that are waiting like steel traps at the other end of the lobby. That was easier than it should have been. You tuck the card safely into your purse, next to the little syringe and the three condoms. Traveling light tonight. The doors open as you reach the first elevator, as if they were waiting for you.

You smile.

You feel your heart beating heavy in your chest when the elevator doors finally open on your floor. Well, not your floor, really, but Crane’s floor. You've invited yourself, but that doesn't make what's about to happen tonight any less special. 

Before you know it, you're standing in front of his door, the numbers above the peephole staring back at you as you pause for a moment. You're almost lightheaded, just from being here, so close to fulfilling the dream you've had for months.

Jonathan Crane. A genius. A visionary. And the man at the center of your every fantasy. For too long, you've watched him from afar - at first not daring to let yourself dream of having him, but then, slowly, realizing that you have no life without him. That he is the center of your universe, and that your purpose is to trail after him like a desperate satellite. Once you knew that, it became impossible not to be with him. Unbearable to bear spending every day on his periphery when all you wanted was him, him, him. 

You steady yourself. Close your eyes for a few seconds just to savor it. Just being here. Then, you take the card out of your purse and swipe it, quickly tucking it back away before you open the door. The handle turns easily - why wouldn’t it, after all? You are, clearly, meant to be here - despite the fact that you are most certainly not supposed to be here. You step into the room, letting the door close behind you, and take another moment to bask.

“You know, I’d really prefer if you’d knock,” says a voice, suddenly coming from inside the room.

From where you’re standing you can’t see much, but you freeze, instantly. You’re stuck in that strange little hallway that seems to be at the entrance of every hotel room, with just a few coat hangers and a full-length mirror for company. And you can’t move because that’s his voice coming from around the corner. You would recognize it anywhere.

As you stand frozen, two things occur to you. One: it’s strange that Crane sounds like he’s expecting someone. And two: it’s even stranger that he’s here. His schedule says he’s at one of the conference’s dinners right now. You were supposed to have time to prepare. This is not going according to plan.

“I told you,” says a slightly annoyed Crane, his voice getting closer, “that I’d have your money tomorrow. So if you could just-”

His words cut off as he sees you, clearly not whoever he was expecting, and your heart skips at least three beats as you finally come face to face with him. 

“Who are you?” he asks, reasonably.

“O-oh, I’m… terribly sorry,” you reply. Your heart is now hammering at a million miles a minute, making up for lost time. You feel yourself fumbling for words, but manage to wrestle control of your tongue. “I must have the wrong room.”

Crane rakes his eyes over you suspiciously. You can see from the tilt of his head that he doesn’t buy it, and now he’s sizing you up as a threat. You let yourself swoon for just a moment. He’s so intelligent. This is exactly why you’d planned to lie in wait for him; you could never outsmart him and you very likely also couldn’t best him in a fight. Not that you’d ever want it to come to that, but if it did… Well, you doubt you’d be able to keep your mind on self preservation for very long once he got his hands on you.

“How did you get in here?” he presses.

“This is the room they gave me,” you explain. “There must have been some kind of mixup at the front desk.”

It's a slightly different story than the first, but hopefully a more believable one. You open your purse; reach in to pull out the key card and show him. Or maybe you'll go for the syringe. But before your fingers can wrap around anything, Crane snatches your purse and turns swiftly on his heel.

“Hey!”

You follow after him as he strides to the large bed, and dumps out the purse’s contents. The syringe, the condoms, and a few errant bobby pins spill out across the duvet. The key card falls to the floor.

“It’s rude to go through a woman’s purse, you know!” 

Your anger flares in his direction before you can control yourself. You bite your tongue, horrified that you've snapped at him.

“I'd say it's pretty clear that the rules of civility don't apply to you,” Crane retorts, as he reaches for the syringe. “Just what exactly were you planning to do with this?”

“That's… personal?” you mumble.

“Try again.”

God, he's so sexy. How are you supposed to concentrate on getting out of this when his voice is all graveley and dark like that, and he's staring at you with those eyes that look like they could pierce through skin and bone, and-

“Well?”

Crane is growing impatient. You scrabble together your thoughts and open your mouth to speak, plan still only half formed.

“Ah, I mean, that's my medication,” you explain. “It's for… migraines.”

“Hm, really?” Crane replies. “Then you wouldn't mind if I administered it to you.”

“No!” you say, a bit too sharply. 

He's already removed the cap from the needle, and has taken a few steps toward you when your voice rings out. He stops in his tracks, and you swear you can hear your heartbeat thunder around the room. A tense moment of silence passes, before Crane finally speaks again.

“So, this isn't your migraine medication,” he states. “And you're a strange woman who's just shown up in my hotel room, with a purse full of drugs and condoms. I'm calling security.”

Crane calmly walks to the bedside table, stabs the syringe into its wooden surface, and picks up the phone out of its cradle. Your heart rate spikes as he starts to dial.

“Dr. Crane, I don't think you should do that,” you warn.

“And why the fuck is that?”

“Because I don't want to have to tell them… who you really are.”

Crane pauses, and cocks his head at you again. You can feel yourself regaining control of the situation. Like a warm blanket wrapping around your shoulders; it feels good. So good that you can't help but smile at him as he scrunches his eyebrows together and frowns.

“What do you mean by that?” he asks.

The word passes over your lips like a sin, spreading its venom over your tongue as you say it.

“Scarecrow.”

Crane's eyes widen. You feel red heat rise to your cheeks. He wasn't expecting you to have leverage, and the fact that you've managed to surprise him fills you with an immense pride. 

“Who are you?” Crane asks softly. 

“I'm a fan of your work,” you reply. It might be the first truth you've told all night.

Crane replaces the phone with a sigh. He runs a hand through his hair as he looks up at you.

“Okay, who are you working for?” he asks. “Who sent you?”

You shake your head.

“No, no, no, Dr. Crane - I mean it,” you giggle. “I heard you speak at a different conference a few months ago, and I… Well, is it crazy to say that I fell in love?”

Crane fixes you with a glare that says, yes, it most certainly is crazy. You don't even notice as you rattle on - Jonathan Crane is your favorite subject, after all.

“From there, I wanted to learn everything about you,” you continue. “Where you live, where you work, where you shop for groceries. Some of it was easier to figure out than the rest, of course, but once I learned your schedule it became clear to me. You spend a lot of time out of the house late-late at night.”

Crane studies you carefully as you go on your monologue, but you're too wrapped up in it to care. 

“So I dug deeper, and guess what I found?” you tease. “Dr. Crane has a secret, and now it's our secret to share. You and me.”

You've closed some of the distance between you, and now Crane is so wonderfully close that you could reach out and brush your fingers against him. You resist, not wanting to scare him away, but look up at him expectantly as you wait for his reaction. You've just laid your heart bare for the first time in forever. He has that effect on you, you guess; it's impossible to deny him anything.

“So you're obsessed with me,” Crane says calmly. “I can't lie; it is kind of flattering.” He smiles. Only for a moment, before his expression turns dark. “But you still haven't told me, what the fuck were you planning to do with this?”

He gestures to the syringe, still sticking up with its needle planted in the bedside table, greenish liquid swirling inside of it. You lower your eyes, suddenly bashful. It feels so utterly silly now; you feel like you've actually started to build up a rapport with him, and you don't want to risk harming Crane’s perception of you. Still, knowing him, it will be worse for you if you don't tell the truth upfront, so you're honest yet again.

“It's a blend of a few things,” you admit. “An aphrodisiac, a relaxant, a very mild sedative. I was planning to use it on you so I could…”

“Rape me?” Crane supplies.

“Don't say it like that!” you beg. It sounds so ugly when he says it that way. “I just wanted to show you my love. I wanted to share it with you. That's not a bad thing, is it?”

You take another step toward him, desperate to show him what you mean. If only he'd let you show him. It would be so good for both of you. As you get closer, Crane backs up until he's sitting on the bed, then leaning back into the mattress. You lean down, trying not to hover over him too much, your fingers barely ghosting the sheets as you plant your arms on either side of his body.

“Please,” you whisper. Crane doesn't look afraid, but he is eyeing you carefully. “Please just let me show you?”

Crane considers the situation for a moment. You wait with bated breath, not daring to let yourself imagine what will happen if he says yes. The room spins as you forget to take in enough oxygen, and you feel yourself dip an inch closer to him.

“If I let you live out your twisted fantasy,” he begins, slowly. “You won't tell anyone about what you said earlier?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” you promise, your smile immediately brightening at his words.

Crane nods, just once. Curtly.

“Fine then,” he says. Your heart explodes in your chest. “But you’re not using that syringe on me. And you're going to do all the work.”

As he's talking, he's already shrugging out of his shirt. You practically drool at the sight of his bare chest; struck with the irresistible urge to drag your fingers over it. You feel yourself smiling wildly. This is so much better than you'd ever imagined it. Your beloved is actually a willing participant! Why had you ever been prepared to settle for anything less?

Crane slowly unbuckles his belt, and then looks at you expectantly. Your fingers feel almost removed from your body as you reach out to pop the button on his pants. None of this feels real; you must be in a dream. You hope he doesn’t notice how much you’re shaking. It wouldn’t do to have him get any ideas about wrestling his way out of this.

“Let’s go through your little plan together,” says Crane, as you tug down his zipper and start to pull on his waistband. “You were going to drug me, knock me out - and then what?”

The only thing separating you from your prize now is the thin cotton of his boxer-briefs. Beneath, you can tell that he’s already half hard. The realization sends a throbbing ache between your legs. The musky scent of his arousal - or maybe it’s yours - starts to seep into the room, and you lick your lips to get a taste of it like a snake.

“Was gonna get you ready for me,” you answer, already slipping into a haze of fantasy.

“How?” Crane asks.

“With my mouth…”

Maybe it’s your imagination, but you swear you see his cock twitch at your words. The air catches in your throat again, and you have to force yourself to take deep breaths through your nose. 

“Go on, then,” Crane prods. “Show me.”

He’s sitting up slouched on the bed, arms bent just a little so he can look down at you as you bring yourself to eye level with his cock. He is definitely getting hard; you don’t even have to do anything to him, honestly. But you want to, and even more important than that - Dr. Crane is telling you to. You can’t deny him.

You pull down the thin fabric, and watch as he springs free. His cock is beautiful - just like you’d imagined it would be. There’s already a bead of precum on the tip, just begging to be licked off. You wrap your lips around him eagerly and worship the head of his cock, tasting the salty tang of him as you kiss it. Lovingly. Gently. That’s what you want to be for him as you part your lips and take him deeper, moaning around his length. 

Crane has other ideas. 

He ruts up into your mouth, letting out an absolutely sinful groan as he does it. The sound has you clenching your thighs for dear life as a wave of arousal and pressure runs through you. You want to touch yourself desperately, but know you need to hold on. There’s no way you’re going to waste the energy to get off on your own fingers tonight.

“Sorry,” Crane says. “Forgot I was supposed to be unconscious.”

You can’t reply with his cock in your mouth, but the biting sarcasm in his voice makes you feel things that are probably best left unsaid. Thank goodness you abandoned your morality a long time ago.

In direct contradiction to what he’s just said, Crane tangles a hand in your hair and starts pressing you further down onto his cock. You gag as the tip of your nose touches him, and let out a muffled whine.

“What, too much for you?” Crane laughs. “I thought you wanted to get me ready.”

You try not to whimper as you nod your head. You can feel your mascara starting to run as tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and try to blink them back in. Once you’re composed enough to refocus, you start to swirl your tongue against him. Crane’s grip on the back of your head tightens, and you feel a sense of pride swell in you, pressing down the panic. This is exactly what you wanted - to make him feel good. To show him your devotion. You bob your head, pushing past the point of your own comfort to take him as deep as you can.

He lets your throat clench around him for a few minutes before he abruptly pulls you off. Your mouth makes a wet pop as it sucks around nothing, and you look up at your beloved with something that borders on sadness and lust.

“What next?” he demands. “I know you didn’t just come here to suck me off like a cheap whore.”

You stand up and try to collect yourself. Wipe the spit that’s pooled at the base of your chin. Organize your thoughts into some semblance of an intelligible response.

“Want to… to feel you inside me,” you pant.

“Of course you do,” Crane says. He has something in his hand, and he holds it up to show you. The condoms. “You even came prepared. But, let’s not pretend for even a second that you were actually going to use these.”

He throws the roll of condoms behind him, and they disappear somewhere over the side of the bed. Your mouth is hanging open in shock, and Crane smirks at your disbelief. 

“It’s not fun if there’s not a little risk, right?” he says. “Don’t tell me that’s not why you came here in the first place - to get off on the thrill of doing something dangerous.”

“I… I came here for you,” you insist. 

Though it is getting harder and harder to think straight as Crane slips himself fully out of his lingering clothes. When he’s done with that, he moves on to reaching up and grabbing at the zipper on your dress. He pauses with his hands at the back of your neck.

“And what drew you to me in the first place?” he presses. “You know I’m a dangerous man. You know my deepest, darkest secret. But instead of scaring you away, it only pushes you closer. You can’t resist the fear that you feel at the thought of being near me. Wanna know something? I think, deep down, you wanted to get caught.”

Your head is already spinning too much to comprehend what he’s saying. All you know is that his voice has dropped several octaves and it’s making you incredibly, almost painfully, wet. Your eyes roll back in your head as Crane tugs at your zipper and helps you slip out of your dress. Your bra and panties are black lace, and Crane seems to admire them for a moment before unclasping the hooks and pulling off your bra.

“You’re pretty fucking twisted, but you do have a nice rack,” he comments. “I’ll let you take care of the rest.”

With shaking fingers, you slide the lacy waistband over your hips, relishing the soft scratch of fabric as it moves down your thighs. Once they’re pooled on the floor, you step delicately out of your panties, and look down at Crane, still sitting on the bed in front of you.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” he says. “I warned you that you’d have to do all the work.”

You straddle him, moving a bit too fast in your eagerness. You’re getting clumsy, but you don’t care. Planting your hands on his shoulders, you feel the way he glides into you as you lower yourself. So insanely good. The stretch as his cock is buried inside of you makes you see stars. You gasp, and then moan as your hips reach his.

“Feels better this way, right?” Crane teases. “A little risk always makes freaks like you cum faster.”

“Mmhmm,” you agree, barely listening to what he’s saying. 

“Go ahead and get yourself off,” Crane says. It almost sounds like a challenge. “Use me like a glorified dildo, just like you wanted.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders as you start moving, bouncing up and down on his cock as you chase your high. Crane stays still, letting you do all the work just like he said he would. You grind into him, desperate for friction against your clit, and wish more than anything that he’d reach up and play with your nipples. It’s a lewd thought, but you’re so far gone that you don’t care anymore, and eventually you move your hands to pinch them yourself.

The air in the room is getting hotter; thick with sex and filled with moans as you get closer and closer to your release. Crane stares at you, somehow managing to keep a straight face while he watches you fuck yourself on his dick. You press yourself close as you can as you grind down again.

“Gonna come!” you whine. 

And then you do; waves of pleasure crashing over you as the coil in your stomach finally lets go. Your legs shake, both your eyes squeeze shut, and you have to hold onto Crane’s shoulders to keep from falling right off the bed as you gush onto him. 

You’re panting with exertion as you come down from the high. Brain still foggy from the rush of endorphins and the elation of finally fulfilling your fantasy. And the best part is knowing that Crane got to feel all of it. The way you clenched around him; the way you screamed, shameless, as your love for him coated his cock. Getting to share the moment like this was better than you’d ever dared to dream of.

“Good girl,” Crane says. “Now do it again.”

Your eyes shoot open in disbelief. Crane looks up at you, smirking. 

“You heard me,” he growls. “You’re not done yet. I want to see you play with yourself.”

The only reply you can formulate is a moan, but Crane pays no mind to it as he grabs one of your sweaty hands and shoves it between your legs. 

“No moving, now,” he warns you. “Use your fingers and that’s it. My cock stays in you, but you don’t get to use it.”

It’s so hard not to swirl your hips, even just a little. You want so badly to feel that pressure of him, moving against your walls. Even staying still, he fills you up deliciously - but you want more. But, you do as he says and rub your clit, until you’re on the edge of another orgasm. 

“I-I’m close,” you whimper.

“That fast?” Crane taunts. “You’re really that desperate for me?”

You nod, biting your lip. You’re so close you can feel the heat rising in your chest. Your fingers press harder; your breathing goes shallow.

“Please fuck me!” you beg.

“Mm-mnn,” Crane refuses. “This is what you wanted, remember? Make yourself come for me.”

His words are all you need to tip past the point of no return. You cry out, almost shocked at the pleasure that rips through you once again, even more intense than the first time.

“Fuck…” you gasp.

You lower your head to Crane’s shoulder, exhausted after two orgasms back to back. Your sweat is slick against his skin, and it’s so good to rest for even a moment. Your whole body is buzzing so intensely, it feels like you could fall apart at any second.

“Think you can do one more for me?”

Crane’s voice is rough, and right in your ear. He’s relentless. Weakly, you shake your head no. You loll off the side of his shoulder, slumping against him as your body gives out.

“I think you can,” Crane insists. “Come on, you brought three condoms - must have had big plans.”

“Can’t…” you say.

It comes out as more of a breath than a word. Every ounce of your energy is gone.

“How disappointing,” Crane sighs. “And you haven’t even made me come once. I guess I’ll have to fix that.”

In the next instant, your back is pressed against the bed. Crane hovers over you, smug grin spreading across his face.

“I know this isn’t part of your plan,” Crane tells you. “You wanted to be the one in control. It scares you more than anything not to be. But honey, it’s time to accept the truth. You weren’t in control from the moment you stepped in this room.”

You feel his cock drag slowly out of you, before slamming back in so hard that the force lifts your hips off the bed. The shock makes you yelp.

“Doesn’t it feel so good to let go? You begged me to fuck you earlier. Really, I’m just giving you what you want.”

“Want… want you to cum in me,” you pant. 

Your eyes are heavy, but you open them to look at Crane as you say it. You watch his eyes darken as he looks down at you.

“Just like I thought,” he says. “You wanted it to go like this. Your little cocktail of Ambien and Viagra was just a safety net, pretend, so that you wouldn’t have to admit to yourself just how much the idea of losing control over me turned you on. But something got twisted in that fucked up little head of yours, and now you can only cum if I tell you to. Is that right?”

“Y-yes,” you whimper.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir,” you breathe. 

“Good.” Crane smiles darkly. “And now you’re going to come one more time for me. We’re not stopping until you do.”

You can tell that he’s serious, and you can already feel your third orgasm building. He's right, about all of it. He's read you like a book, and laid bare the things that you couldn't even admit to yourself. There's a terrifying intimacy in the way he seems to get inside your head, and maybe that is what you wanted all along.

You don't have long to consider it, though, because Crane is pulling at your wrist and bringing your fingers up to his lips. He sucks on your pointer and middle fingers, taking them into his mouth and swirling his tongue as he looks down at you. You're frozen in his glare, unable to look away despite feeling like you're on the verge of passing out.

When he's done, Crane moves your hand so that it's pressed between the two of you, wet fingers brushing against your clit. You squirm, and Crane smiles again. 

“Good girl.”

His thrusts are slower, but more powerful now. Even without moving your fingers, your clit is getting rubbed with each surge of his hips, as he forces your body into the mattress. 

“S-so close,” you gasp.

“I know, sweetheart,” Crane rasps in reply. “I can feel you trying to hold it back, but you won't be able to for long. Come on my cock again.”

As he orders, you obey. It really is impossible to deny him. Your chest feels like it's about to collapse as you stop sucking in air, and your mouth hangs open, useless, as you freeze in time for just a moment when the orgasm finally floods through you, dulling all your other senses. When you regain the slightest amount of control over your body, you cry out for him, rut your hips against his, bring your hands up to claw at his shoulders.

“I told you you'd do it,” Crane pants. “Now it's my turn.”

He pumps into you again, the friction against your too-sore clit almost unbearable. But you're so drunk off his cock that you don't care. The pain is pleasure by this point, and you hold tight to him in a desperate attempt to make him finish inside you, just like you wanted.

Crane is so much stronger than you, though, and he tears away just as he reaches his peak. He isn't careful with his aim; painting you and the bed with white lust as he empties messily, all over you. It's in your face; your hair; and splattered across your chest like fresh blood. You bask in the feeling of being marked by him.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Your chest is heaving with each breath. Crane, still on top of you, brushes a hand against your cheek and uses his thumb to collect some of his spent cum. He brings it down to your clit as he slips out of you, pressing against the still-sensitive nub.

“Ah!”

Overstimulated, you arch your back at his touch. His thumb is rough, but the lubrication of his cum on it feels good. He chuckles softly, and moves away.

“Get some rest,” Crane tells you. His eyes gloss over the bedside table, to where the syringe still waits. “You have a very long night ahead of you… I don't think that we've gotten even, yet.”

#jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #jonathan crane #LemmyFics

[littlejuicebox]

Drunken nights.

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader/Tav Summary/Setting: You've just arrived in BG; this follows the standard romance plot for Astarion after the Shadowlands. Rating/Warnings: PG / all fluff / very mild in game spoilers Word Count: 1600+ Notes: Shadowheart gives me major bi panic. Tried to keep this GN but please let me know if you see something! I loved the ending to @leighsartworks216 post here and I uno-reversed it. :)

-----

You are dancing atop a table. Well, really, you are grinding atop a table. You hold a mug of beer in one hand and the curve of Shadowheart’s hip in the other as the two of you move your bodies in a drunken haze to some drum-heavy tune the band is playing. Everything is fuzzy — your vision, your tongue, the fur on the edges of your jacket as it brushes into the cleric while you two dance to the beat. The bar is in an inebriated riot; several members of your blurry audience are shouting in a cacophony you can barely understand over the music.

“Come on, kiss already!”

“Take your clothes off!”

For a moment you consider ripping your shirt over your head and exposing your chest to the feral crowd. But then Astarion is at the edge of the table, gently grasping the wrists of both you and your dance partner. He gives each of you a little tug, beckoning you both off the table, catalyzing an uproar of boos and jeering. An apple is thrown at the vampire’s head, which he deftly dodges before turning to glare daggers at the offender. Halsin stood from the bar and made his way towards the rogue after that, hoping to avoid further violence. The looming threat of the druid’s large frame caused the crowd’s rage to fizzle out; the tavern’s patrons quickly turned to look for other forms of entertainment.

“Well, would you just look at the time? I do believe the free show is over and you’re both thoroughly drunk. You two had better be off to bed.”

Shadowheart is a flurry of giggles as she steps off the table, practically crumpling to the floor. Halsin narrowly catches her by the back of her shirt, steadying her with one hand. “What, Astarion? You jealous? Didn’t want me to kiss your lover and steal them away from you for the night?”

Your face is tucked into his neck as you drunkenly cling to the rogue, the stability of his frame the only thing keeping you from nearly melting into a pile of bones like the cleric had moments ago. Your breath is tickling against the elf’s ear, causing the pink flush of the pointed pinna to rise.

Astarion chuckles good-naturedly, “Far be it from me to keep my lover from their appetites, Shadowheart. And I’m sure you’re more Tav’s type now, what with the new hair color you have going on, but I’m quite certain neither of you would actually be interested in putting on such a show for the entire tavern… if either of you could be trusted with your current judgment, that is. Let’s circle back tomorrow morning, when everyone is sober.”

Shadowheart takes a step toward Astarion, fully intending to goad him with another quip, but she loses her balance once more and slides to the ground. Halsin is forced to scoop her over his shoulder. A slew of garbled protests comes out of the cleric’s mouth, and the mountain man’s brow crinkles in confusion as he tries to interpret the gibberish. Finally, the druid shakes his head and sighs, turning to the silver-haired elf before gesturing with an open palm. “Lead the way, my friend.”

Astarion grabs you by the waist to guide your clumsy footing as all four of you head upstairs and to the rooms located above the tavern. The vampire rapidly knocks on the first door, which swings open to reveal an irritated Lae’zel.

“Here’s a present for you, darling.” Astarion greets in a sarcastic sing-song voice as Halsin enters the room and plops Shadowheart onto the bed. Lae’zel hisses a “tch” as she slams the door shut upon the druid’s exit. You see Karlach lounging on the floor and greet her with a drunken wave as the entryway shuts. All of you hear something clatter to the ground, followed by Karlach’s muffled laughter and Lae’zel’s complaints on the other side of the wall.

“You’re welcome!” Your lover calls through the closed door before Halsin bids you both a good night in the hallway with a small chuckle. The wild man looks like he wants to say something more while staring at the two of you, but he blinks the thought away before meandering down to the fair end of the hall towards the room he’s sharing with Gale.

Your room is next door to the three female fighters. You and Astarion made the decision to sleep in separate rooms for now, after your talk at Moonrise Towers. Everyone had been so happy to make it out of the Shadowlands and into the city that day; you’d even successfully charmed the inn owner into offering you a heavy discount on the only private room left available for the night.

Earlier, you’d taken a delicious soak in the well-appointed bedchamber’s clawfoot tub while Astarion read beside you. You’d invited him to join the luxurious bath — there was plenty of room for two — but he’d gently refused the offer, opting instead for a quick shower in the room he’d shared with Wyll while you dressed.

Now, Astarion looks through your pockets, patting you down to find anything you’ve stowed away on your person. All he discovers is a few gold coins and your trusty dagger. “Darling, where on earth is your room key?”

“I ‘unno. Had it downstairs… prolly lost it.” You murmur, now practically hugging the wall to keep yourself up. You can’t help but think how cute the vampire is when he’s flustered.

“You can’t be serious, Tav.” He deadpans, pinching the bridge of his nose. The rogue heaves a frustrated sigh as you stare at him with glassy eyes and nod.

“As a heart attack… hey, you can’t actually have one of those can you?”

“Sit.” He commands, ignoring your tangent and forcing you into the plush chaise bench pressed along the wall across from your bedroom door.

“Yes, sir.” You respond with an uncoordinated salute, half sitting, half laying on the chaise. Your fingers dance across the velvet, the texture of the fabric absolutely mesmerizing you.

Astarion pulls out his lockpicking tools and sets to work, opening the door with a few rattles of the lock and flicks of the wrist. He quickly hoists you out of the chaise and pulls you into the room, where he begins to strip off your clothing, careful to avoid grazing his hands against your skin. “If you’re potentially going to vomit, my sweet, best to make sure you don’t end up doing it on the nicest things you currently own.”

The vampire unceremoniously tosses your clothes into the armchair nestled in the corner of the room and then pulls back the covers of the queen bed, shoving your unbalanced frame onto the mattress. “Now get some rest.”

“Will you tuck me in?” You’re on your back, limbs starfished out. You think Astarion looks so pretty in the moonlight; you love the way it’s dappling the side of his face and shooting shiny streaks through his silver hair.

The elf stares at you; his white eyebrows furrow as he scrunches his nose. You can tell the rogue is annoyed, but you don’t care. All you can think about is how pretty he is, even when he’s annoyed. You adore the little crinkle between his eyebrows.

“Seriously, Tav?”

You nod slowly. A smile creeps across your face, and the dopey-eyed expression you can’t think to conceal in your drunken state wins him over.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, darling.” The rogue huffs, rolling his eyes in performed annoyance. But truthfully, he was just as enamored by you and the way your beautiful eyes glimmered in the moonlight as you stared at him with unabashed adoration. He’d almost kissed you right there, but he didn’t trust himself to perform such an act while in a potentially triggering situation. He’d spent far too many nights in far too many taverns with far too many drunks for him to feel truly at ease here. Instead, the vampire deftly tucks the blankets around you, wrapping you in a cocoon of warmth. “There. Happy?”

“Mhmm.” You agree with a nod, already feeling yourself drifting toward sleep as Astarion situates himself on the other side of you. You’d been wrapped in the large, fluffy comforter provided by the inn; the vampire covered himself in your lighter, personal blanket before rolling on his side to stare at you.

“You’re not going to your room?” You ask with a yawn, sneaking your hand out from the cocoon to find the elf’s fingers and coil yours around his.

“And leave you here alone, absolutely sloshed and unable to adequately defend yourself, in a private room, with a key that is probably lost somewhere in the same tavern full of patrons that were asking you to take your clothes off minutes ago? I think not.”

“Mm… my knight in shining armor.”

“More like… rogue with glinting dagger.”

“Mm… my rogue…”

You yawn again. Your eyelids are so heavy, but you want to keep them open to admire the vampire for just a while longer. You try to fight off the pull of sleep, but you’re too inebriated and so so tired. The journey to get here took all day on foot and everything felt unbelievably warm and cozy; the bed seemed like a cloud in comparison to the hard earth you’d been resting on for weeks. You are unable to finish the rest of the phrase as your lids flutter closed for the final time that night, stitched shut by the long curls of your interlaced lashes.

“Your rogue.” Astarion agrees in a soft murmur, lifting the hand that you’d snaked out of the blanket toward his lips, pressing a soft kiss against your callused knuckles. The elf watches you for a few minutes longer, a small, adoring smile crossing his face. He knew then, in the quiet of that random tavern, with your angelic face covered in the beautiful glow of moonlight, that he loved you. If only he had the courage to say it.

#astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x tav #baulders gate 3 #baulders gate astarion #baulders gate tav #bg3 fanfic idea #bg3 fanfiction #slow burn #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion fluff #astarion romance #astarion ancunin #astarion

[esamastation]

Shizuroth, part thirteen

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve

-

Sephiroth has a really good body! So fast and strong! The force he can put into the simplest attacks is amazing!

It really is like he's suddenly possessing Liu Qingge - with decades of training and bodybuilding and power at his fingertips. He's almost jealous, and a little bit offended! If this is anything like what Liu-shidi is working with, ah - where was he coming from, asking his scholar shixiong for spars, huh?! As if Shen Qingqiu could match this!

Shen Qingqiu was a spiritual cultivator - his sword seals were stronger than his actual combat abilities, so that's what he mostly stuck to, letting his very capable sword do the talking. Especially with Without a Cure sapping his strength. Liu Qingge had tried to teach him, and he'd really tried to learn too, he'd thought he'd need all the advantages he could get when Luo Binghe came back, but, ah, he just didn't have it in him to train like that. It was so much work!

It's so effortless now, pulling off moves he'd learned as Shen Qingqiu but never quite had the physical strength to pull off properly. He feels weightless and without barriers, like there's nothing, no gravity, no physical limitations, nothing that could get in his way!

Not even Genesis.

"What the hell was that?!" the man demands, sprawled on the floor, staring up at him in deep offence.

Sephiroth is a villain, so smiling smugly is alright. "Your form is off," and swings his ridiculous beautiful Japanese blade down, until it almost touches the floor. "You need to work on your footing."

The sword is his biggest hindrance, honestly - followed closely by the too tight coat. It's not just the length of the blade, but the design. He's used to Shen Qingqiu's Xiu Ya, which is a two-edged straight jian sword, never mind the fact that it's a spiritual weapon. Masamune can't even be compared to a dao sword - which Shen Qingqiu had occasionally helped his disciples with, but which he'd never been particularly comfortable with. 

The blade is much thinner and more flexible than he's used to, and he really has to wonder how it hasn't been broken or at least chipped against Genesis' straighter, heftier sword. Those were some heavy blows!

Actually… 

Genesis jumps to his feet and swings his sword. "Again," he demands.

"Hang on a moment," Sephiroth says, considering his sword at length. Running a bare hand along the blade finds no dents, and the edge is as sharp as it was in the beginning. No chips. That's… impossible, right? It's just a katana blade. It's not a spiritual sword, it can't even heal itself.

Although it does have three marbles of Materia in its hilt. And there is something… it's not Qi, but there's something. The sword isn't exactly lifeless.

Lifting Masamune up, he sends a small fraction of Sephiroth massive, sluggish spiritual power into the blade, and - ah. It lights up with something similar to a sword glare. How interesting! That makes sense, since weapons like these are how people channel magic here. And he does recall a lot of sword beam types of attacks from the games!

"Do not throw that my way," Genesis says, holding his sword in front of him in a guard. "I will answer in kind, Sephiroth, I swear to Goddess."

"I wasn't about to," he answers with a snort and draws his energy back. Now that he's looking for it, he can still sense it.

So, Masamune is subtly drawing on his energy. It's not exactly how a spiritual weapon would do it, but it's… similar. Passive and constant. Hm. Maybe something to do with the metal itself? Fascinating - are all Materia-imbued weapons like this?

"Is Masamune alright?" Angeal asks worriedly, coming forward. "Did something happen?"

"It's fine," Sephiroth answers and lowers the sword. He nods to Genesis. "And yours?"

"The Rapier is just fine," Genesis says, swinging it as though shaking dirt if it. "No need to worry."

The… Rapier? "That is not a rapier."

"No, it's a broadsword, and I thought it was funny," Genesis sniffs and holds it straight up. "Rapier sounds more elegant. Mine is a weapon of finesse."

That's… surprisingly lighthearted for someone so dramatic. Well, he'd seen worse names for swords. And people.

"Now, again?" Genesis asks, swinging the sword challengingly down. "Or do you want to jump in, Angeal?"

"I think I'll watch a little bit more," Angeal says, stepping back again. "Remember, no magic."

"Yes, yes," Genesis says and holds his… Rapier in a guard. "Ready when you are, Sephiroth."

Taking in the man's posture with Shen Qingqiu's expert eye, he hums. "If you say so, Genesis," he says and shifts to a stance.

Now that he has some sense of his own energy running through Masamune, he has a much better grasp of the length and the curve. With it he dares to go a little faster, not having to worry about overreacting and hurting his opponent. He can also almost sense Genesis' sword now, and predict its movements.

It makes for a very short spar indeed.

"What the hell -" Genesis grumbles, again on the floor, and glares up at him. "Are you toying with me right now?!"

Heh. Kind of! "Your footing," he answers in his best villainous drawl, "Is weak."

"My footing is fine!"

"Then why are you on the floor?" 

Genesis mutters a curse and stands up, gripping Rapier's handle tightly. "Smug son of a bitch - I am going to end your legend here and now!"

The man attacks without warning, and it's such bad etiquette that Shen Qingqiu comes fully to the forefront. He ducks past Genesis' attack and whacks him on the butt with the flat of his sword in admonishment - and then, for a good measure, kicks his feet from under him.

"Footing," he says lazily while Genesis sputters at him in outraged offence - once more on the floor. "You let your sword's weight lead you too much. I know the blade is heavy and willful and wants to get its way - but you are the one guiding the blade, it's not supposed to be leading you."

Genesis gapes at him. "What the hell are you talking about?!" 

They're not spiritual swords, not exactly, so… "May I?" he motions at Rapier.

Genesis glares at him warily and stands up. He shares a confused, incredulous look with Angeal and then flips Rapier over, holding it out handle first.

Shifting Masamune to his off hand and holding it out of the way behind his back, Sephiroth takes Rapier, tests the weight, and then assumes the posture Genesis led with.

"You might have the strength to swing this thing around however you will, but the laws of leverage are still in effect," he explains. "This is a very heavy sword, and unless you weigh considerably more than you look, it will mess with your balance if you don't counteract it. When you swing," he demonstrates, "right now you are stepping up to follow the swing and so you're taking out your base of balance. And so you trip."

Genesis just stares at him, face completely blank. 

"Now, from the beginning, properly this time," Shen Qingqiu continues and demonstrates. "Plant your feet. Bend your knees. The movement begins from your hips, not your hand. From your hip, up the torso, to your arm. Your knees follow and support the movement. Feet stay on the ground. And… swing."

He swings the Rapier, a sweeping attack fit to take someone's head off. "Now, if you have to adjust to an opponent's block or attack, you can, because your wrist is still neutral - see? Like this I can easily adjust the angle of my swing without losing my footing, or the power of the attack."

Angeal slowly joins them while Genesis is still just staring blankly. They're both staring.

Feeling suddenly like he'd overstepped, Sephiroth hands the Rapier back and clears his throat. "So, as I said, footing. It's the same with your thrust," he mutters, looking away. "Don't just throw your whole body behind it like an idiot."

Genesis accepts the broadsword back dully and looks at Angeal. There's a moment of tense silence, and Sephiroth kinda wants to sink into the floor.

Awkward.

-

Shizun mode, activated.

(also I know fuck all about swordsmanship, so don't look too deeply into that)

#Fanfiction #svsss #ffvii #ff7 #Shen Qingqiu #shen yuan #Sephiroth #genesis rhapsodos #angeal hewley

[torturedpoetemotions]

Light & Framing in WWDITS: Nandermo Edition

I really have to give props to whoever does the lighting and cinematography for What We Do In The Shadows. They took what could easily have been an excuse to cheap out on those things--the show's format as a half-hour comedy mockumentary--and said a resounding fuck that.

Every frame of this show is gorgeously and thoughtfully lit and shot and colored, and not just the big pivotal moments. Truly every shot. The sets and the costumes also do a lot of heavy lifting here, but still everything is framed so carefully and intentionally. And considering this show is at least 55% fucking improv? That is seriously impressive. I've seen big budget network cornerstone series take less care with their most pivotal moments than this show takes with like...any random moment (I know, I know, it's okay, I can say Game of Thrones).

Take this shot for example (thanks to @indashadows!):

Now bear in mind, this is ONE shot in ONE scene in an episode. An important scene, but not a long one. And yet in this scene, every single detail--from the actors' body language to the framing to the lighting to their fucking outfits--reinforces the underpinning context and subtext of the scene.

Look at Nandor. His posture is so open and vulnerable. He's facing directly toward Guillermo, looking slightly up at him actually instead of down at him like he usually would be. They're almost eye level but not quite. His face is fully lit, and his body is more in light than shadow, with the parts facing Guillermo lit and the parts facing away from him in deep shadow.

Nandor is being very open, honest, and vulnerable with Guillermo in this scene, probably more so than he's ever been before! All the pretense, the aloofness he usually hides behind is now shoved to the back. They're also on nearly equal footing compared to their usual situation, with Guillermo possibly having a slight upper hand due to how thrown everyone, including Nandor, is by the revelation that he's a vampire slayer.

(I know Nandor knew he killed Carol and the Baron, but given those were both accidents I think it's reasonable to say Nandor was still surprised about the slayer from a long line of notorious slayers aspect of the revelation.)

Another way to read this is that Nandor is at a disadvantage because of what he doesn't know in this scene, i.e. that Guillermo can leave any time he wants, that Guillermo has been listening to their conversations, and that Guillermo is using that information now to manipulate him. It's left somewhat up to interpretation whether Nandor actually knows any of this or not, so YMMV there. But the point stands that in either interpretation, Nandor is on his back foot here a bit and the framing and lighting of the scene reflects that.

Now contrast that with Guillermo. His posture is closed off, he's hunched in on himself. He's leaning toward Nandor, but he's not facing him or looking at him directly. His eyes are downcast. He's positioned a little above Nandor, but he's not acknowledging or reveling in that change of position in any way; in fact, he seems to be minimizing it with the way he's standing. Almost his entire body including his face is in shadow, with only the parts facing away from Nandor receiving any light.

Guillermo is not being vulnerable, open, or honest with Nandor in this moment. Whether Nandor knows everything or not, Guillermo thinks he's playing Nandor here. He thinks he has information Nandor isn't privy to (the hole in the cage and the hidden cameras) and knows things Nandor doesn't know he knows (the conversations he's overheard). Guillermo is normally much more open and vulnerable with Nandor, which often results in him getting his feelings (at the very least) hurt. But this is one time when he's consciously choosing to push his care for Nandor to the backburner in order to take care of himself for once.

(I also have FEELINGS about light representing emotional honesty and vulnerability between these two characters in the show about vampires and what they do in the shadows. Maybe I'll scream about them later.)

And here's the real kicker: they are so in odds with their approach here, their usual roles in the relationship are being reversed in ways neither is fully comfortable with...and yet they're still on the same damn page.

They both have the same ultimate goal in this scene: to get Guillermo out of the cage and have the other vampires in the house accept him and stop insisting on killing him. They are both trying to take care of Guillermo in their own ways. And as the show often does, it underscores this in part via the similarities in their outfits (but that is a WHOLE other fucking massive meta-post currently sitting in my drafts).

#wwdits #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #wwdits meta #my meta #nandermo

[harmonysanreads]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ One Year Commemoration Post↬Sumeru Love Hexagon

-; ੈ♡˳ BEHIND THE HEXAGON

☆ The primary inspirations behind this AU are Alhaitham's Demo and this Fan Musical that debuted on Spring HoyoFair 2023!

Alhaitham's Demo no doubt gave many writers and daydreamers heavy brainrot and I happen to be one of them lol. But it was not until the fan musical that I had a concrete enough idea. I was charmed by the amount of tavern shenanigans this concept had the potential to bring, which is something that I really wanted to write at the moment :>

☆ Originally, Scaramouche or, Wanderer wasn't even supposed to be part of the AU!

Mainly because I didn't see many inclusion of him in the Sumeru Crew (at that time) and was unsure how it'd be taken D: But then, I remembered the v3.6 trailer where he was duking it out with the others and I was like 'why not?'. From that point on, he's come a long way and has even become the Best Boy of the Hexagon! :D

☆ Scaramouche's 'innocent in front of reader and the opposite behind their back' act is a tribute to his very first in-game appearance in the v1.1 Unreconciled Stars event!

This is something I'm humbly proud of, so to say. I still occasionally go back and admire the writing from that event. I think it's absolutely criminal for such a lore-rich and well-done in terms of character introduction event to be limited but oh well. Scaramouche, in my opinion, can be an excellent actor when he needs to be and if you watch the story from this event, you'll understand. Combining this with his mental state from after the Interlude Quest creates quite a messy situation though and, I kept it that way intentionally :>

☆ In the initial draft, Alhaitham was written as a very jealous character!

The cause of it being reader's infinite care for Kaveh. But obviously, I scraped it and wrote a much more toned down version and I sometimes wonder if I should've gone with my initial thoughts. Admittedly, I was playing it safe due to some reality checks regarding his character so I don't regret it a whole lot. But if it was up to the present me, I would be down to writing jealous Alhaitham immediately lol

-; ੈ♡˳ QUESTIONNAIRE

Does the Reader have White Knight Syndrome?

Well, I didn't originally write them with this particular condition in mind, however, upon further reflection I can see that they definitely show some symptoms of it. And considering the situation they're in, it's very easy for them to fall into the condition itself. I'm not at all qualified to diagnose someone with a mental condition so, my answer will have to a soft no. However, if anyone wants to imagine them as such, they're of course free to do so.

Is there any character you'd want to write differently if given the chance?

I already mentioned Alhaitham to a degree but, I really really wish I had been more considerate of Cyno. We're entering debatable territory here but the Hoyo writers putting so much emphasis on Cyno's TCG addiction and jokes while handling his actual lore whimsically made me lose interest in his character at that time. Though, I hope his upcoming Story Quest will fix this and do his character justice <3

Who is your favorite among the boys?

If you've lingered around my blog for a while, I know you thought I was going to say Alhaitham but, within the confines of the AU, it's actually Kaveh! He's like the initial spark that kindled the actual fire, as such, he's the first one you read about. I felt immense empathy for him after I learned about his lore through leaks, which is reflected onto the reader as well. Had this been a different timeline, Kaveh and Reader's relationship would be pure wholesomeness.

Who among the five is the endgame?

Ohohohoho.. place your bets because it can be literally anyone :) Even someone outside the hexagon in the off-chance they end up slaughtering each other lol. Kind of out of topic but, I think the Wanderer route would be genuinely heartbreaking unless he does something about Reader's mortality. He'd have to watch the one person who truly loved him decay slowly, while he remains afloat his raft of artificiality, safe from the clutches of death temporarily. Thinking about the endings make me feel quite sad honestly, it's a reminder that even the lighthearted shenanigans of the Hexagon will end at some point.

-; ੈ♡˳ ENDING NOTES

I could've easily done a writing event to celebrate the anniversary but I just really, really wanted to talk about these little tidbits. Many many kudos to you if you've made it this far, I hope I didn't bore you :')

Memories are fragile things, so I'd like to think of this as a memorial of sorts that I can look back to after a few years and not think of myself as a total failure lol. I wrote this AU at a rather difficult period of my life, which is why this is more lighthearted despite falling into the Yandere genre.

I don't really know how to express my gratitude without sounding overly sappy, but I'll forever remember every interaction, comment, ask etc regarding the Hexagon fondly. I even remember someone saying they're binge reading this late at night instead of studying for an exam or something which is.. wow, I hope you're doing well nowadays my fellow night owl! I appreciate every each one of you for even taking some of your time to read my silly ramblings <3

This is not at all the end of the Hexagon AU, just to clarify! I'll still answer any asks regarding the five losers (affectionate) because, despite the limitations placed by reality, in fiction, we have the power to imagine and write infinite tavern shenanigans.

Just before I posted the original concept, I thought to myself, 'If even one person smiles because of this, I'll consider it a success.' and now, looking back to the amount of people that enjoyed the Sumeru Love Hexagon (very silly name but I digress) I just feel so, so happy.

Thank you, everyone, sincerely <3

#sumeru love hexagon #well turns out i cannot do this without getting emotional after all :I #hsr is a big distraction these days so i really hope cyno's sq gives me good brainrot so i can return to my roots>:( #i almost didn't want to post this but screw anxiety #happy anniversary hexagon #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere concepts #yandere x reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere #yandere kaveh x reader #yandere alhaitham x reader #yandere cyno x reader #yandere tighnari x reader #yandere wanderer x reader

[bloodofvoid]

Quietest Girl in Town Christmas Special!

I'm sorry if this seemed rushed, (I also noticed some people were doing secret santas and I just- didn't join for some reason, so uh- consider this my gift to all my lovely readers!)

Though you weren’t always a fan of the cold, you always loved one thing about your town: the snow. Now too much, not too little. Small white flakes floating down to the ground, decorating the houses and streets with glittering snow.

You loved it, you loved it so. 

It was actually snowing right now, a gentle snowfall outside the Blackwood’s bakery. Constance had invited you in after it closed, exclaiming that she had an idea. And that idea was Christmas themed cookies.

About a week ago, Ocean had decided to host a Christmas party with the choir. She had proudly declared that everyone must contribute something to help set everything up. 

You had already played your part, meeting up with Ocean at Noel’s house, setting up decorations with the flamboyant singer. His mother was delighted that Ocean wanted to have the party there. 

Noel had decided to set up games as you and Ocean worked, conspiring with his mother about what to do. After you and the soprano had finished setting up, he had declared that cards and board games would be played.

Ricky had gone to you, him and Penny deciding to make a bunch of hand-made gifts for everyone. Ricky was a talented crocheter, his works of art had always amazed you. Penny meanwhile had a knack at making jewelry, her creativity appalling others.

Then there was Mischa. Your rough loving boyfriend had basically sobbed to you about his worries of not knowing what to do to help. Initially, he was going to bring over heavy alcohol for everyone, but Ocean was quick to scratch out that idea.

So, with your help, you had gotten Mischa to work with Rick and Constance’s mother to cook a lovely dinner. Surprisingly enough, he had quite the charm in cooking. Ukrainian dishes were delicious, and you were delighted you got to try them.

“-ed or green?” Constance’s voice knocked you out of your thoughts, and you tore your gaze away from the window. 

“Sorry, what?” you asked, rubbing your hands together. 

Curse your luck, and that you forgot to bring warm clothes. Of course the heater had to break the moment you got to the bakery.

“I was asking if we should use the red or green box for the cookies,” she repeated, offering a light smile as she gestured to the two boxes.

One was green, with darker speckles. Though if you looked closer, you notes that they were mini designs of wreaths, small, barely noticeable bows adorning the leaves. There was also small prints of snowflakes outlining the clear part, where one would look inside to see the awaiting treats.

The other one was red, with a mix of designs  that included: candy canes, santa hats, and reindeer. 

Reindeer. That reminded you of a fun time. It was early December, and you were arriving at Mischa’s house to help him with homework. He had come to you, panicking about his grades. 

You were pleased to see he cared.

You had helped him out, and went back home. Easy as pie. But unbeknownst to you, Mischa wanted to pay you back. So one day, when you came to visit him, you were met with the Ukrainian in the backyard with a reindeer.

To say you were flabbergasted was an understatement. Now you had a reindeer, being boarded at the local barn in town. You had shown the owner the furry creature, and although confused, she allowed you to keep him there.

You named him Mikey. 

A soft smile graced your features, before you picked up the red box, turning back to Constance with a smile.

“This one,” you told her, flashing a toothy grin.

She nodded, taking the box and skittering over to the cookies. They were a mixture of sugar cookies, snickerdoodles, and chocolate chip cookies. You and Constance had to check with everyone to make sure that they liked those kinds of cookies.

With combined help, the both of you had packaged them into two of the red boxes, topping them with a green bow. Now, all you had to do was get to Noel’s house, where everyone was most likely waiting.

“My fingers are gonna freeze off,” you complained, holding the first red box closely to your chest.

“Not my fault you forgot to bring gloves,” Constance joked, giving you an amused look. “We could always share mine.”

A small laugh bubbled from your throat, but you were quick to wave her off, politely declining. 

As you two left the bakery, you shared a small, quiet, conversation. The snow continued to fall, decorating your h/c locks with small, white flecks. While it would do the same to Constance, she had a fluffy, pink beanie on, so her hair was covered.

The snow crunched from underneath your fluffy boots, leaving a trail of footprints as you strode towards your friend’s home. It was a basic house, white paint, and smoke slowly trailing up into the cloudy sky.

Constance came up to the door, shifting the box in her arms to free a hand. She then rapped her knuckles against the wood, making a quiet, yet noticeable sound. A few moments later, it opened up.

Noel’s mother, or Michelle, greeted the both of you, a bright smile adorning her lips. She wore a mustard yellow sweater, with blue jeans and ugg boots. Her brown locks framed her face perfectly, doe-brown eyes glinting cheerily.

“Hey you two!” she chirped, beckoning with a smile. “Come on inside, you two must be frozen by now!”

You were quick to oblige, rushing in after Constance. Thankfully, the dining room was near, and you were able to place the red box down. The house was warm, easing the frost that had gathered on your lashes, the red in your skin slowly disappearing.

“I feel frozen,” you commented, giving Michelle a smile as she helped set out the cookies.

As you blew warm air into your palms, you failed to take notice of the footsteps slowly approaching from behind. You only realized someone was there when you felt two large arms wrap around your waist, and the firm chest pressed against your chest.

“You’re as cold as ice,” Mischa mumbled, his voice slightly muffled as he nuzzled into your hair. “Why don’t you have any mittens, or a sweater?”

Amusement crossed your face, trying to look up at your boyfriend to no avail. You brought one of your hands up, gently pressing it to his cheek, causing him to recoil. A warm laugh slipped, and you rolled your eyes.

“I forgot to bring one,” you admitted, smiling out of embarrassment. “Was in a rush.”

Mischa hummed disapprovingly, pulling away from your figure. You were able to turn around and face him, seeing the Ukrainian dressed in a thick green sweater, one that had ‘Happy Xmas!’ embroidered in red. He also wore a white beanie that had fluff at the top.

He immediately grabbed at the hem of the sweater, pulling it off of his figure to reveal a messy t-shirt underneath. Mischa then grabbed your hand, opening up your fingers and placing the sweater in your palm, pressing it to your chest.

“Keep it,” he insisted. “I’ll be fine.”

You paused, before giving him a huff, puffing your cheeks. Though you wanted to protest, you knew there was no point in arguing with him. It was practically impossible with Mischa.

You gently slid it on, a rushed scent of pine, honey and smoke washed over your nostrils. It offered a certain kind of warmth that was perfect, keeping you cozy inside the fabric.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, reaching down to gently hold Mischa’s hand.

He replied with a nod, guiding you throughout the house to where the rest of the choir was.

As soon as the two of you got inside, you were met with chaos. Penny and Ricky were in the corner, panicking as Noel tried to open all his presents. Meanwhile Ocean was trying to get Noel to stop, handling him like a dog. And there was Constance, who stood in the back, giving you a nervous smile.

Thankfully, Michelle managed to get him to stop, with Noel whining like a kicked puppy. As the chaos died down, Penny and Ricky took notice of your presence, smiling and waving you over.

You gave Mischa a pat on his arm, before quickly skittering over to the duo, smiling brightly. 

As soon as you got to Penny, she presented you with a little bag stuffed with tissue paper. You blushed, taking it with a quiet thanks. You dug inside, bringing out a small, yet cute green beanie that had a little ball of fluff at the top.

“Goodness Penny,” you breathed, smiling as you fit it atop your head. “This is adorable, thank you, again.”

“Of course,” she replied, patting your shoulder. 

It didn’t take long for Ocean to call everyone together, her voice booming and loud. Everyone was quick to gather around, all sitting next to each other in pairs. Penny and Ricky, Constance and Ocean, Michelle and Noel, and you and Mischa.

Michelle had made some hot cocoa, and the piping hot liquid was the perfect warmer for your hands. You held the purple mug in your hands, keeping it close as you gently blew onto it.

Mischa basically hovered over you as everyone opened their presents, draping his arms around your torso. You had received a few gifts, and you loved them all. A pair of mittens, a record, and some clothes.

Though now it was the end of the day, with only one present left. It was a small box wrapped in green wrapping paper, topped with a white bow. Your brow furrowed as she came forward, picking up the box.

It was for you, from Mischa. 

“I thought I said you didn’t need to get me anything,” you told him, turning around to face the Ukrainian.

Your boyfriend shrugged, gesturing for you to open it.

With a sigh, you obliged. Your fingers carefully worked through the paper, trying your best not to rip it. Underneath was a white box, with a simple top. You gently took it off, peeking inside.

It was a ring, small and gold, with a peridot in it, the gem well cleaned. It instantly clicked for you, it was a matching ring to the one Mischa wore on his pinkie, with his birthstone engraved into it. (This is something I like to call a man's gift.)

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed, giving him a gentle, thankful smile. “Thank you Mischa.”

You gently strode over to him, but he already had whirled around your backside, giving you another behind hug, resting his head upon your covered head. His form was relaxed, opposite to his usual tense nature.

Constance smiled giddily, trying her best to not explode. She was quick to grab Ocean’s hand, rushing over to your left side and giving you a side hug.

Penny grabbed Ricky and Noel, joining the massive group hug. Soon enough, Michelle joined after some convincing from her son. You felt warm, at peace. No more games, no more death. 

All you needed was your family.

“Merry Christmas, everyone.”

#ride the cyclone #mischa bachinski #mischa bachinski x reader #mischa rtc #female reader #ride the cyclone x reader #christmas #Technically canon but like- not apart of the main timeline

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(The Bad Batch) TBB x Reader: Frozen

A mission goes awry, and you take a moment to recover in the aftermath.

(Author’s Note: Platonic, or you can read into your interaction with a particular Batcher however you’d like.  It’s just a little snippet I started a while back!  Set sometime in S2.

Word Count: 812)

   It started with warmth that began to spread, pulling you out of the void.  Your skin tingled as it gradually gained feeling again, and you gratefully drew breath with a gasp.  The warmth grew into a heat that screamed at your limbs to move, though they felt heavy as lead.

   The heat faded, leaving you to experience chills that racked your body.  You had been so still, and now suddenly you couldn’t stop moving, full of tremors and shudders as you fell to the ground.

   Your palms recognized the sensation of metal grating against them.

   “Hey, are you okay?” A low voice asked beside your ear, causing you to jump.  “It’s alright, it’s just me.”

   “Hunter,” you murmured, head spinning.  You reached out to grasp his shoulder, just something to ground yourself.  His hand rested over yours, and the other helped you to take a seat in one of the chairs.

   “It’s okay.  You’re safe.”

   “W-what happened?” you asked.  You tried blinking and squinting, but your eyes simply would not adjust to the darkness.  “Why is it so dark?  Where are we?”

   Your questions were met with a brief silence, and your fear spiked.  “Hunter?”

   It was Tech’s breezy voice that jumped in to respond, though he didn’t quite sound as chipper as he explained.  “You are aboard the Marauder.  It seems you are experiencing symptoms of carbon freezing, including temporary blindness.”

   You reached a shaky hand up experimentally, still half-expecting to see it in front of you.  “Blindness?”

   “Yes, but only temporary,” he said assuredly.  “Your sight should come back shortly.”

   “Okay…”

   “How are you feeling?”  That particular rumbly voice nearby belonged to none other than Wrecker.  Even though you wouldn’t be able to see him, your head turned in his direction automatically.

   “A little sick,” you admitted with a humorless laugh.  “But not bad considering I was frozen in carbonite… Wait, how did this happen anyway?”

   “You mean, you don’t remember?”  You felt a blanket rest on your lap, and then Omega’s smaller hand on your shoulder in concern.

   “Minor memory loss,” Tech noted.  You could picture him raising his pointer finger matter-of-factly.  “It’s to be expected.”

   “We were on that mission,” Hunter explained, “for Cid.  Things got a little out of hand.”

   “You were captured by pirates,” Omega added.

   Echo chimed in then.  “Next thing we know, you were frozen and being shipped off to who-knows-where.  Fortunately, we had eyes on you and were able to intercept.”

   “It was quite the game of keep-away those pirates were playing,” Hunter said.

   “Yeah!” Wrecker exclaimed with a booming laugh.  “But we won!”

   You released a small sigh of relief, shoulders slumping.  The shudders had finally dissipated, but then you were left just feeling exhausted.  “Well, I’m glad you guys won.  Sorry I got captured in the first place.”

   “Actually…” Omega’s tone was sheepish.  You could almost hear her facial expression scrunching.  “It was my fault.”

   “What?”

   “More or less,” Tech jumped in again.  “The pirates were about to overtake Omega, and you stepped in.”

   Your memories slowly began to come back.  It was still rather fuzzy, but you did in fact remember the incident.  You remembered pushing Omega out of the way before the pirates corralled her into the carbon freezing chamber…

   “I’m sorry.”  Her tone was quiet, defeated.

   “It’s okay,” you replied warmly.  “It’s not your fault.  I’m just glad you’re okay.”

   The next thing you knew, a light flashed before your eyes, making you blink.

   “Ah, it appears you are regaining your sight.”

   Tech was right.  You were beginning to see the shapes of your squad.  He inspected your eyes with the flashlight for a few more moments before clicking it off.

   “I am starting to feel a little better.”

   “Glad to hear it!” Wrecker said, clapping a hand on your shoulder.  You chuckled, rubbing your eyes.  Your vision was growing clearer by the second.  “Uh, should she rest or something?”

   “Not a bad idea.  I was just about to suggest that.”  Tech nodded his head in the direction of the front of the ship, signaling for everyone to give you some space.  Hunter gave you a look that said a thousand things.  He was relieved you were alright, proud of you for rescuing Omega, and there for you if you needed anything else.  Wrecker’s shot you a grin on his way out.  Omega offered a small smile, full of sympathy, and also still feeling a little guilty for what happened despite your reassurance.

   You found yourself searching for another face that wasn’t there.  You’d almost forgotten that Echo was away.  Pulling the blanket that Omega left for you around your form, you got more comfortable in the seat.  Your eyelids found it more and more difficult to stay open, and the weight of exhaustion beckoned you to sleep.

   So, with your family in the vicinity, you let it.

#the bad batch #bad batch x reader #hunter x reaer #tech x reader #wrecker x reader #omega #the bad batch reader insert #tbb x reader #tbb reader insert #tbb imagine #the bad batch imagine #bad batch hunter #bad batch tech #bad batch wrecker #Bad Batch #bad batch x you #bad batch x y/n

[hongthoven]

Thin Lines ╰┈➤ hj x reader (smut)

The sound came crashing into the room like thunderbolts hitting the cold asphalt as tears started to spill out the corner of your eyes, pain just as intense as pleasure as you composed yourself enough to remember how to count; basic mathematics leaving you the moment you felt Hongjoong’s hand palming your ass again, the warmth of his skin sucking the pain away like some magnetic witchcraft.

You didn’t know how long it had been but still, anyone granted with some good sense would know it was time to put an halt to it, to call it a day and let your body heal from the brutality of your little game—by now you were convinced your skin was probably striped with thin red lines, blood spilling dramatically from the bruises and yet, when your mouth opened again to gasp a couple words out, you weren’t that surprised to hear your choked out request.

“P-please--- m—m—more” ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

➶ warnings:

smut, is using a whip considered as bdsm? if so then bdsm, using of petnames but nothing too cringy, established relationship, dom!joong, husband!joong, PDA, oral sex (f. receiving), spanking, bit of choking if you squint--

➶ author's notes:

obviously inspired from the japan promo pictures of Hongjoong holding some sort of fencing sword that looks like a whip-- I'm just a simple simp really, you know my mind went SPIRALING there-- also someone requested it and I aim to please. ♥

one shot | 6.8k words

Please, p l e a s e- comment & reblog if you enjoyed the ride!

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It all started as a joke, an innocent comment made in the middle of a conversation over bedtime; definitely not something you thought was worth pondering over.

You overheard Hongjoong making a silly comment from the bathroom about how you two probably looked like an old couple quietly settling into the early days of retirement as he realized you were both ready for bed before 10pm. Not that it was absolutely mental to seek for a bit of quietness, but still rare enough for your husband to point out. The week had been quite hectic for both of you, juggling between a tight work schedule and a heavy social life where you both had to balance a night out with mutual friends, date night at the movies and a work event you were both dreading to attend the next day. Tonight was actually the only break you could catch and for all you knew, it would be spent with a book into the warm cocoon of your bed while Hongjoong would pick whatever random movie to watch, only to doze off before he even consumed half of it. That was one of the things you found both endearing and infuriating about your partner: his spectacular capacity to fall asleep at the most random places and times regardless of his promises to stay awake to spend quality time with you.

An unsolicited cold breeze suddenly caught you off guard as Hongjoong lifted the blanket to make himself comfortable next to you, snuggling immediately into your arms as his chin came resting upon your chest with a soft, content hum from his lips. The smell of shampoo came as a package with the dampness of his dark locks, a couple drops of water hitting the parts of your skin that wasn’t clamped with the silky blouse you liked to wear to bed on a quiet night.

“Cold, honey?” Hongjoong smirked as your entire body shuddered underneath the arm he kept around your stomach, forcing an embrace.

“Your hair is dripping all over me, what do you expect?” you almost scolded him, purposely ignoring the way his voice toned down under his demonic chuckle as his lips suddenly pressed against your neck, butterfly kisses tracing the goosebumps over your skin.

With his arm still draped over you, Hongjoong eventually went quiet, his chin resting against your chest as he made himself more comfortable by resting one of his leg above yours, clinging onto your figure like a needy koala as his eyes inevitably landed on the book you were halfway through reading. It was no news to Hongjoong that your favorite genre was romance, especially when it involved some quality smut, but still, as soon as he came across a couple lines from the chapter you were deeply involved into, his lips came out with a small, confused gasp as he instantly looked up to catch your reaction.

“You know I like you wet, princess” he growled while locking your flesh between his teeth to leave a soft, pink mark right underneath your jawline. It wasn’t smooth, nor even that funny, but you couldn’t deny the way your body inevitably reacted to your husband’s words. Sometimes it took you all the strength in the world not to whack him in the face whenever he tried to be a brat, but most of the time, it only enhanced your permanent crave for his touch. Regardless of the years you had spent by his side, Hongjoong remained your biggest turn-on and your ultimate fantasy.

No one compared to him, ever.

“Are you really into that stuff?” he dared to ask, his mind already wandering to a darker place where you had turned into the main character of this story, making him the inevitable love interest.

“I mean—I’m just curious, I guess!” you shrugged off his interrogations like it meant nothing. After all, you could easily be intrigued by a plot without it being a genuine interest just like reading a thriller would never make you a serial killer. Still, Hongjoong’s interest seemed to be piqued in a much deeper way as his hand immediately wandered underneath the fabric of your blouse, palming your stomach, toying with the elastic band of your panties, kneading your thighs but all the while, his eyes were back to the book you kept turning pages from, slightly unbothered by his sudden change in attitude.

It wasn’t until his hand found its way into the cotton of your panties that you finally dropped your book to your side, allowing Hongjoong the quality time he desperately seemed to seek. From the intensity of his gaze to the way his fingers worked into you, you knew the quiet evening you expected was a vague memory as your husband had much wilder plans for you both – and while it was still early in the evening, Hongjoong made sure to have his name echo between the walls in perfect synch with the loud thud from your book hitting the floor as soon as he flipped you down to your stomach to have his way, his mind still filled with vivid images painted over the lines he had read earlier.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

“I guess this calls for a choker necklace or a scarf” you pouted while staring at your distorted reflection into the toaster, the obvious purple bruise shaped into a bite over your neck like a puddle of color in a black and white sketch. Standing in front of the stove next to you waiting for your eggs to scramble exactly how you loved to have them, Hongjoong couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, his naked chest vibrating like thunder from the raspy tone of his morning voice.

“Don’t be too proud of yourself—do you really want your boss to know you’re a fucking freak in the sheets?” while your voice came out with a pout, your hand firmly slammed against his arm, making him move slightly to the side as his giggles increased with every one of your complaints.

“Seonghwa is probably a much bigger freak than I am, love, I don’t think he would care even if you showed up with a collar and a leash to this party...” Hongjoong teased with a smirk tugged into the corner of his lips. You couldn’t ignore the point he had made, though. From what you had seen of his boss, Park Seonghwa seemed like the kind of man who exulted with filth—one that could get you down on your knees with a simple nod and never apologize for the mess he would make out of you. Not that you truly cared since the only man you would ever try anything with just so happened to be standing next to you, the silver ring on his finger making it yours only.

While some of your friends dreaded the idea of a routine, you absolutely adored being a wife and sharing random moments with the love of your life such as breakfast when your schedules allowed you to sit together at the same table outside of dinner time. As usual, Hongjoong was scrolling through a couple e-mails as you refilled both your mugs with fresh coffee, your mind already running through your day and every tasks you had to complete before you’d get to meet your husband again later in the evening to attend his work party.

It’s not that you actually hated these kind of events as years of marriage had proven just how devoted and supportive of your husband’s hard work you sincerely were, but you weren’t exactly a social butterfly and regardless of Hongjoong’s efforts to keep you close and included in whatever conversations he’d have with his colleagues, there was always a moment during the night where you’d find yourself lonely and bored, wandering through strangers while avoiding cold snacks in favor of a couple glasses of champagne only to curse yourself for not eating more by the time the floor would start to feel like gum under your stilettos.

You were halfway through thinking about your outfit for the special occasion when Hongjoong finally dropped his phone to the table to have a proper conversation that turned into chit-chat about whatever was going on in your mutual friend’s lives. Being the married couple in a group of childhood friends often came with the heavy burden of dealing with the mess of others’ relationships and dating game shenanigans and while sometimes, for a brief second, you kinda missed the unknown of a first date and the butterflies coming with a first kiss, you would never trade your life with anyone. Hongjoong was all of your firsts and would definitely be all of your lasts.

Before you knew, it was already time to get ready and leave as you decided to pack your evening outfit since it would be too much of a hassle to come back home before you’d get to the party that just so happened to be hosted on the opposite side of the town and about a thirty minutes’ drive from your work place.  

“Can you drop our spare key to Mrs. Lee? I’m expecting a package today—tell her to just leave it in the living room for me, alright babe?” Hongjoong called from the bedroom, fiddling with his tie as you stepped into your strapped heels down the corridor.

“Can’t you just pick it up tomorrow at the post office?” You frowned when Hongjoong finally emerged from your room, draped into one of his immaculate tailored costume and his hair slicked back.

“No---” he firmly added before pecking your lips on his way out “I need it tonight”.

While you couldn’t figure out why he had decided to build such mystery over a simple delivery, you knew better but to ask for receipts when it came to your husband’s impulsive decisions. Still curious, you eventually decided not to bother anymore and grabbed the spare key from the piece of wood that was keeping it pinned to the wall before you escaped your place.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

 The room was packed as you made your way through the crowd, hoping no one could tell you had done your make-up in the backseat of a cab under the flashlight of your phone. For all you knew, you could be shining brighter than an entire constellation from the amount of highlighter on your cheekbones but, so far, no one was giving you any weird look. If anything, you had only gathered a couple grins and sympathetic nods from the couple faces you actually recognized through a sea of suits and cocktails dresses.

It was no surprise to see the party for a big architecture house happening in such a fancy and spectacular setting as an Opera but still, you found yourself staring in absolute awe, your mouth slightly gaping at the sight of the golden moldings over the ceiling or the way every single painting on the walls seemed to perfectly melt into the marbles of the extravagant staircase right in the middle of the foyer. Everything seemed extremely sophisticated and straight from a regency novel—not your favorite genre but you had read enough of those to let your mind wander to a darker corner of the room when you could steal a couple steamy kisses from Hongjoong without anyone knowing.

Speaking of the devil, you were about to give up on your hectic search for your husband and ready to give him a call when your eyes instinctively caught his sight on the other side of the room. Even from the back, his posture and presence were enough to stop you right in your tracks just so you could take a minute to yourself and admire the absolute love of your life. Hongjoong was like a goldfish in a tank filled with sharks, his fashion sense slightly outside of the classical, supposedly correct attire his job as an architect often demanded while his ears were covered with shiny trinkets only a rockstar typically pulled off. But still—Hongjoong embraced his eccentricities and made sure his hard work was the thing everyone noticed first, beyond his looks and the color of his nails.

Tonight, your husband had chosen to wear a velvet Balmain jacket that looked like a soft yet extremely fancy blanket tucked to the side and matching pants in a deep shade of blue, leather ankle boots and to your dismay, one of the many pair of glasses he loved to wear as an accessory. Now there were many things about Hongjoong that drove you to the edge, but seeing him with glasses on sat firmly on the top three things that made you go feral in no time.

Making your way towards your husband, you couldn’t help but smile endearingly at the sound of his familiar laugh, a piece of home that instantly dragged you to him like a safe zone in the middle of a wolf den.

Politely waiting for him to be done with his conversation, you quietly made yourself known by grazing his back with the palm of your hand as he welcomed you with the brightest smile, his lips instantly reaching for yours through a loving peck. He introduced you to one of his clients—a name you instantly connected to one of the big contracts he had told you about earlier in the month, hoping to get it and you silently patted yourself on the back for drinking your husband’s every words whenever he shared about his work, thriving in the way the fifty year old redhead in faux-fur grinned back at you as soon as you mentioned the spectacular custom-made gazebo Hongjoong had spent hours designing on his client’s demand. But while the thrill of piquing a multi-millionaire’s attention ran quickly through your veins, nothing came close to the silent praise from your husband as his hand immediately slid down your side to give your hip a little squeeze that you knew was his own personal way to let you know he was thankful for your commitment—along with a slight hint of pride.

In rare occasions, Hongjoong loved to praise you in front of his colleagues and sometimes, you could see a slight urge to brag and show you off in the way his lips curved into a smirk. Not only was he proud to call you his wife, but Hongjoong also held this darker side of him that somehow made him feel like he had to make sure everyone knew you belonged to him.

The conversation went on for a couple more minutes until you eventually found yourself alone with Hongjoong as he motioned for the waiter to get you both a glass of champagne, though his was definitely a refill as you could see a slight hint of redness over his cheeks.

“You look absolutely delicious—I could devour you here and then” he almost growled into your ear, his hand pushing into the bottom of your back to press you closer to him as you giggled inevitably at his lack of composure.

“I’m not sure that’d be too good for business, darling” you smirked, palming his cheek tenderly until Hongjoong purposely tilted his head to the side so your thumb directly pressed against his lips, his teeth immediately attacking it.

“Fuck I can’t wait to get you home—”

His words came out halfway between a threat and a promise although you didn’t quite know which part of it you liked the most. One thing you knew is that your husband was up to no good and while your curiosity was getting unbearable to handle, you knew it would be hours until you eventually managed to unveil the mystery surrounding Hongjoong’s behavior—but as you were about to quiz him some more about his sudden flirty attitude, you were both interrupted by one of his colleagues walking towards you and carrying an obvious need to have a chat with the ‘man of the evening’ as everyone seemed to secretly celebrate Hongjoong’s biggest deal of his career.

Yunho was actually one of your favorite colleagues of his. You found him nice, polite and always appreciated his will to make conversation with you whenever your husband was too busy granting someone else with his presence, so it wasn’t too hard to pretend you were interested in whatever conversation was happening now—but the real struggle remained in the way Hongjoong’s hand unexpectedly found its way lower down your back to grab a handful of your ass, his fingers practically digging into your flesh through the silk of your dress as the coldness of his rings made you shiver against the thin fabric of your thong.

Hongjoong was an ass man—this you had figured out pretty early into your relationship whenever his hands only seemed to find a nest upon your backside or when you found yourself either on all fours or stomach flat against a surface while your husband pounded into you from behind. So it wasn’t such a surprise to have him pat his favorite piece of your body while in public—but soon enough, what started out as some innocent squeezes from his palm took a wilder spin as his middle finger started to dangerously flirt with your crack, his digit tracing the slit of your ass through your dress, just enough for you to look around, red at the cheeks, to make sure no one was taking an unfortunate peek at the gratuitous peep-show happening in the middle of a fancy cocktail party.

Lucky for you, Seonghwa’s voice echoed into the room and through the speakers as he gathered everyone closer to the improvised stage for some much anticipated speech that inevitably stole your husband’s attention from you as his boss waved for him to join the festivities. Flustered and still a little baffled as the ghost of Hongjoong’s hand remained above your butt-cheeks, you watched as he pulled Seonghwa into a friendly embrace while the taller man patted him on the back right before he handed him the mic. While pride washed over your nervousness as soon as Hongjoong started his speech with a warm smile, you couldn’t help but stare at him until his eyes eventually landed on you, the smirk at the corner of his lips holding more promises than you could handle.

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The drive back home was unusually quiet as Hongjoong’s hand remained on your knee while the other kept a steady grip around the wheel. If anything, Hongjoong was a safe driver and while he still granted you with an occasional smile or glance at a red light, his attention never drifted away from the road as safety came first. You watched as the city lights danced from outside the car window, thin yellow lines coming out as a blur as you turned your attention back to your husband, staring at his perfect profile while he hummed through your favorite classic 90s hits playlist.

Silence remained as you both walked into your apartment but years of marriage had taught you not to feel awkward or nervous whenever Hongjoong failed to fill the blanks. Going through your routine, you smiled to yourself as your husband’s lips pressed softly at the back of your neck before he escaped into the living-room while you freed yourself from your cashmere coat and high heels, only catching the dim light from the room he had disappeared into while walking towards the bathroom.

Hongjoong only appeared a couple minutes later, standing behind you as you faced the mirror to wash your face. His blazer was long gone as you caught a glimpse of his slightly unbuttoned shirt, the sight of his collarbones almost enough to make you clench immediately as he pushed himself against you, locking your hips against the sink while his hand reached to your front and all the way up to your throat, giving it a soft squeeze.

“Fucking gorgeous” he whispered, nibbling at your earlobe as a soft moan escaped your lips quicker than you intended to, your body leaning back against his chest while his other hand traveled up your stomach, lifting the fabric of your dress only for his palm to grab a solid hold of your left boob. While ditching your bra for the night was an aesthetic choice to fit the wide, open back of your dress, you silently thanked yourself for giving an easy access to your husband as his fingers started to flick at your nipple, his entire body stiffening against yours. Looking up into the mirror as his lips attacked your shoulder, Hongjoong looked almost possessed with some kind of filthy demon as he smirked against your skin, unbothered by the yelp coming out of your lips as soon as his teeth started to dig into your flesh like you were nothing but fresh meat at a vampire’s mercy.

Pushing your ass against his crotch, you didn’t care if you sounded or looked desperate to be fucked as you looked straight into the mirror to catch your husband’s gaze, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as your eyes seemed to beg for a quick relief. Maybe it was the champagne having its way and making you foggy, maybe it was Hongjoong’s predatory smirk or the obvious bulge pushing between your thighs, but nothing else mattered at this moment, except for the way your body seemed to react to his touch.

Hongjoong had a thing for mirrors—you actually couldn’t recall the number of times you had found yourself bent over a sink with your husband rocketing his hips against yours with his palm covering your moans whenever you ended up doing it in a risky place. He had even insisted on having a mirror facing your bed so he could enjoy the view of your completely fucked-up face while taking full advantage of your backside. Hongjoong was a greedy, sometimes borderline sadistic lover and nothing could ever compare to the thrill of being an absolute slut for your husband whenever his dom side would show.

“Bedroom—now” he almost growled, his order coming with a soft tug at the back of your hair as your body instantly missed his touch, cold air hitting your exposed breast while you stood in front of the mirror completely baffled with his sudden escape.

You found him sitting with his legs spread out over the velvet, burgundy lounge chair you had insisted to get for your bedroom regardless of Hongjoong’s complaints about the whole ‘boudoir’ vibe it gave. Still—his doubts were long gone as soon as you had him sitting there with a mouthful of his cock for the first time, his eyes traveling from the sight of your kneeled figure in the mirror to the way your cheeks kept hollowing around his girth like you couldn’t get enough of his taste.

Now he looked incredible on that chair, shirt wide open, chest on full display and one of his hands resting upon a mysterious leather case you had never seen before. It took you a while to connect the dots and realize it was probably the delivery he was so cryptic about earlier as your eyes couldn’t seem to detach from his chest, mouth watering at the thought of tracing love bites from his stomach to his neck like you had been starved for years.

“Thought we could have our own special celebration tonight” he finally broke the heavy silence of the room, his perfectly polished nails tracing the leathery surface so delicately you almost felt jealous for not being granted with the same treatment. Hongjoong’s eyes were traveling from the case to your face, scanning your reaction, expecting a frown, a tilt, anything that would confirm your absolute confusion.

“What do you have in mind?” you finally dared to ask, walking towards your husband like a magnet, your entire body already craving his attention in the least subtle way.

“Mmm, well—I couldn’t help but notice just how wet you were last night reading that book?”

Your eyes were instantly drawn to his hand as the clicking sound of metal echoed into the room in perfect synch with your beating heart. In silence, you watched as Hongjoong elegantly unwrapped the black velvet sleeve to unveil a thin yet long piece of leather you instantly recognized as a whip.

“M-maybe it was just you” you tried to compose yourself, hiding your sudden arousal behind the most obvious lie as Hongjoong couldn’t help but chuckle a little, his hand already wrapped around the handle while the other played with the tip, making it bounce once, twice then smack into his palm.

The sound itself was enough to send you over the edge as a gasp escaped your lips instantly.

“I don’t think it was me, darling, but it’s okay—” he paused, purposely grazing the tip of his new toy against his neck as your eyes followed the veins poking from under his skin with your mouth gone dry.

“—tonight I’m the one who gets to play” Hongjoong finally added with a smirk, smacking the piece of leather a couple times against his clothed thighs while you tried your best not to moan instantly at the obscenity of his move.

“Come here” he added as you wasted no time dragging your fragile bones to the ultimate object of your attraction. With his legs spread out, it was easy for you to stand in between them, looking down on your lover as the coldness of leather immediately sent shiver down your spine.

“Is that something you wanna try?” Regardless of the filthy games you played together, Hongjoong never missed an occasion to check for consent first. While he stood proudly as a dom in the bedroom, your husband would never actually do anything you weren’t 100% willing to try. Gulping at both the kindness of his eyes as he looked for a reaction and the painful teasing of the whip traveling up and down the side of your thigh, you were left with nothing but a nod, words failing to reach your lips.

“Good—” he smiled, the glimpse of his tongue nipping at his bottom lip sending you over the edge as your legs were already threatening to fail you.

“Now take these off” his words came out like an order although his voice was soft—the complete opposite of the way he instantly started to smack your cotton cladded pussy with the tip of his toy.

Flustered, you could already feel your body covering with a thin coat of sweat as you decided not to fight any of his orders, the thrill of getting handled by this man definitely stronger than any sort of pride you may have left within yourself. Stepping out of your panties, you made sure to never to break eye-contact with Hongjoong, expecting a smile, a nod, anything that would come close to a praise.

“Such an obedient little pet for me” the hint of a growl instantly sent shivers down your spine as Hongjoong hooked one of his arms between your thighs to drag you closer, his palm firmly attached to your ass as you suddenly felt extremely vulnerable with his face so close to your aching pussy.

Looking up with his signature, evil smirk, Hongjoong reveled in the way you instantly started to mewl as soon as his lips found your stomach—it was actually ridiculous to tremble this much when you were still safe into the barrier of your dress, the warmth of his mouth acting like a water bottle on your belly while purposely ignoring the place you so desperately needed him to pay attention to.

“J—joongie—”

With a soft tug and a groan, Hongjoong pushed you down to straddle his lap, his lips attacking yours immediately as your tongues battled in the crudest way to match the eagerness of your hips rolling hectically against his crotch while your lips curved with a proud smile at the inevitable thickness of his hard-on pushing against your hungry core.

“Take off your dress”

Again, an order—barely growled into the desperate pit of your gaping lips as his hand found its way around your throat, forcing you to stare into his eyes as you once again bent to his every needs. Within seconds, the last remaining item was pooling at your husband’s feet while his lips seized the occasion to grab a mouthful or your tits, both getting the same painful treat of having him nibbling, sucking and biting until he seemed sufficiently pleased with the sight of your perky nipples coated with his saliva and pointing with absolute agony.

“Fuck baby—look at that mess” Hongjoong almost roared at the sight of your arousal ruining his tailored pants as you kept trying to reach climax by dry-humping his clothed erection like he was nothing but a toy to you.

Unfortunately, your husband had other plans—and while you were too turned-on to remember about it until then, Hongjoong was quick to remind you of his own little toy as he pressed the tip against your chest, purposely tracing the curve of your tits to give it a couple, gentle slaps. Though it wasn’t painful, the idea of getting a harder treatment later was enough to make you yelp a little too loud.

“You just love this, don’t you?”

You nodded. Incapable of using your words as you could feel yourself slowly reaching your peak, hips working harder on your husband’s laps, tits bouncing right in front of his eyes while both your hands were clawed to his thighs for support. Soon enough, you were hit with the familiar warmth traveling from head to toes, fingers digging harder into his flesh as you closed your eyes to drive yourself up to the ultimate salvation—then it was gone. Right before the fireworks, the big finale and the relief you were aching for. Within a second, your body turned cold, shivering with agony as your wobbly legs struggled to keep you up in front of Hongjoong.

He was smiling—of course, proud of his demon move as he watched you tremble from being denied a first orgasm, thighs still ghosting the shape of his, every muscle anchored into your bones as you almost considered humping the air hoping it would hit your clit in the right way and send you off for good. It was absolute torture, an agony you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy and yet, Hongjoong seemed to thrive at the sight of your stupefaction.

“Well I’m not gonna let you get off just like that, mmm?” he smirked, toying with the whip as it rolled from one hand to the other, tracing his jawline with an evil smug as he finally moved from the chair to walk around you like a predator.

“So beautiful—” his raspy voice hit the back of your neck in a way you had never experienced before as he pushed your hair to the side to connect his lips with your shoulders, traveling up to your earlobe as he praised your entire body with the ghost of his hands traveling down your sides.

“Now bend over for me, darling—face down”

You almost expected him to stand there and watch, his torturous manners taking an evil spin you never thought you’d see coming from him—but as soon as your knees hit the chair, arms hooking under the first pillow you could grab for balance, you immediately felt the warmth of his palm hitting your butt cheek with a slap—not quite as hard as you could expect from a man holding a whip, but efficient enough to make you yelp and bend a bit forward.

Hongjoong was obviously into spanking—what else would you expect from a man who could never get his hands off your ass? But what truly twisted your guts every single time was the way he simply adored and worshiped that part of your body, hands kneading at your flesh between every slap, the tip of his finger tracing your crack and coating your slit with your own arousal as his lips traveled up the back of your thighs only to end up taking a strong bite into your skin, marking his spot like the Alpha he claimed to be.

“Still want this?” his voice was cracked from the way his lips kept sucking on your flesh, nibbling at it as the cold piece of leather seemed to be resting at the bottom of your back where he kept you still—but before you were even able to nod, moan or even dare say a word, Hongjoong’s tongue came resting flat against your dripping cunt, collecting his price as he gorged himself with every drop of your ecstasy. Gasping for air, the moment was too quick for you to catch the stolen relief from earlier but long enough to make you crave for a deeper connection.

Looking up for the first time, you were more thankful than ever for the mirror facing you as you watched Hongjoong getting rid of his shirt, his small hips dangling above the pricey belt of his now completely ruined pants. Completely wrecked at the sight of his tattooed arm pushing his hair back like he was actually standing in the middle of a ring, ready to destroy his opponent, you couldn’t help but clench at the sight of the ridiculously gorgeous man you were proud to call yours. Veins tracing his arms, shadows of a couple abs melting into his tanned skin, still in the softest caramel shade from your last week-end away by the beach—that mole on the side of his throat you had claimed years ago, the way his thin lips pinched together as he walked closer to you with determination, hunger and a look you had only seen a second before he was about to snap his hips into yours—the anticipation was too much, lungs lacking some oxygen as you almost begged for mercy, ass inevitably wiggling in front of him as an obvious green-light for him to go further. It was actually insane how much you need him now.

The first hit came as the ultimate salvation. Hard, noisy and so quick you almost thought it was an accident—still, the warmth growing at the surface of your skin was enough for you to know the game had finally started.

Hongjoong made sure to start over the side of your thighs, slowly making his way further to the part of your body he couldn’t wait to turn into a crimson red. With each smack, his hand came landing on the very same spot to palm your abused skin although each squeeze only increased the pain—something you thought Hongjoong secretely enjoyed, and soon enough, he was switching from a strong spank over your cheek to an agonizingly slow brush of the tip against your cunt, patting it ever so gently you couldn’t help but blush at the obscene sound of your own wetness harmonizing with the rudeness of the thick fabric.

“How is it, baby?” Hongjoong spoke after what seemed like forever—and when you looked up to catch a sight of his face, you almost choked at the way his hair had fallen in curtains in front of his eyes, sweaty strands matching the couple drops traveling from his neck to his bare chest, making you wish you could take a full spin and lick him up like a lollipop.

“G-good—so good” you surprisingly managed to blurt out, red at the cheeks as your entire backside seemed to progressively turn into a darker shade of pink.

“Tell me when to stop—” Hongjoong warned, his hand softly palming the back of your thighs, the tenderness of his touch as a brutal contrast with the burning pain of your abused skin.

There was no denying how much your flesh actually ached from the constant assault as you took another deep breath, your body threatening to collapse any minute from the overwhelming mix of your arousal and urge to be soothed; but still, when given a chance to escape, it felt like you were suddenly stolen from the intensity of a moment you never wanted to end.

“d—don’t” the word came out almost as a choked-up sob; body trembling, lips quivering as you suddenly felt too vulnerable and exposed while purposely ignoring the hint of shame in the way you stood on all fours with your ass up, face deep into a pillow while Hongjoong stood behind you with one hand keeping your hips still and the other holding the weapon.

“Alright baby, I’m gonna need you to count—”

The sound came crashing into the room like thunderbolts hitting the cold asphalt as tears started to spill out the corner of your eyes, pain just as intense as pleasure as you composed yourself enough to remember how to count; basic mathematics leaving you the moment you felt Hongjoong’s hand palming your ass again, the warmth of his skin sucking the pain away like some magnetic witchcraft.

You didn’t know how long it had been but still, anyone granted with some good sense would know it was time to put an halt to it, to call it a day and let your body heal from the brutality of your little game—by now you were convinced your skin was probably striped with thin red lines, blood spilling dramatically from the bruises and yet, when your mouth opened again to gasp a couple words out, you weren’t that surprised to hear your choked out request.

“P-please--- m—m—more”

Transcended with your pleas, Hongjoong instantly increased the strength and pace of his moves, not so focused on hitting the right spot any longer as his entire attention was now on the way your entire body jolted and reacted to his whipping while taking an occasional glimpse at your face in the mirror, thriving in the way you could now only scream into a pillow, voice cracking from the agonizing mix of pain and pleasure.

You don’t know how long it was until it stopped as silence never stood a chance against Hongjoong’s raspy growls and the heavy panting muffled into the fabric of the pillowcase you were now properly biting but your body collapsed as soon as you heard the piece of leather hitting the floor, just as worn out as you were.

Pulling at your hips so your knees were secured over the fluffiness of the carpet, stomach flat against the lounge, you suddenly felt putty into Hongjoong’s hands as he used your body like play doe while he kneeled behind you—with one hand delicately tracing your spine and the other ghosting your ass, you didn’t really know what to expect until his lips found their way right where your back and butt met, pressing kisses into the dimples of your skin as his fingers spread you apart to circle your clit at the most painfully slow pace.

“You did so well, my love—” he hummed, lips coming so close to your slit you were terrified you might actually come from just his breath fanning over your tormented lips.

With your eyes closed, you were suddenly overwhelmed with your husband’s change of behavior, the kindness of his touch driving you to the edge as his tongue finally collected your much needed relief, core clenching against his mouth while his thumb kept toying with your engorged clit.

You couldn’t recall sharing such a visceral moment of intimacy with Hongjoong as his arms hooked under your stomach to pull your closer while his face remained buried between your thighs, chin dripping with all of your gratitude for the absolute bliss he had given you—and as your breathing slowly decreased, long slow puff escaping your trembling lips, you heard yourself humming the last couple words before you inevitably passed out from exhaustion.

“I love you—”  

#hongjoong smut #hongjoong x reader #ateez smut

[ashersanity]

I played Kylar's Halloween event again and I have so much to say- I reached Whitney's blowjob scene and for some reason, he shoved it up my PC's pussy??? 😭 What happened to giving him head? You cannot tell me he doesn't know about Kylar's breeding kink and wanted to take advantage of it Also, as much as I'm not a fan of cucking (yes, degenerates have their limits), I am so goddang curious about what would have happened if the gangbang actually went down (especially considering Vrelnir on the blog implied that Kylar's worst fear is seeing the PC get gangbanged), shit would hit the fan so fast I kind of felt bad for Kylar, but anything for you, Whitney I'd eat grass and moo for you too like a cow be a good slut I'm such a whore for him I swear, no shame - Degenerate anon :)

pft. degenerate anon having limits? I’m surprised to hear that ngl, but I guess every degenerate has their own even if they’re the #1 degenerate in the world.

I went on a tangent ramble as usual. fuck, help me.

quite possible the game mechanics made it so he just shoved that shit up your cunt with no warning, though I do like the idea of whitney purposely provoking kylar in attempt to piss them off. loves that dark look on their face hidden beneath their messy bangs, green eyes glaring right back at the bully.

of course, it’s all shits and giggles until the loner actually does snap.

if you want my honest opinion, I think kylar is in fact quite literally capable of killing a person for pc, if that wasn’t obvious enough on its own with the way they carry a knife around themselves at all times. only reason it hasn’t happened yet is probably bc vrel isn’t keen on that whole heavy violence/character death thing, it’s understandable. lowkey funny they made molestation and rape so casual though.

reason why the freak’s worst nightmare is pc getting gangbanged is due to the sense of helplessness they’d feel in that situation. only able to watch on as you get fucked by not one, no, multiple people all at once and they can’t do shit about it, forced to have the image ingrained into their head, the one they promise to cherish.

kylar wants to protect, love, control their beloved. if they fail to do that, then they are no less than anything in their eyes. no less than a scum.

and if it’s done by whitney of all people?

the motherfucker who’s turned their life into a living hell at school, bashing their small frame into lockers, knocking them up onto their knees?

the one who openly calls you ‘their slut?’

only one thing crosses through kylar’s mind at that moment.

they. are. going. to. fucking. kill. whitney.

the blond got off easy, really, just getting a tranquilizer stuck into the nape of their neck. kylar would’ve done so much worse if the game allowed them to.

may or may not shamelessly defend whitney at every turn in that event simply cuz it’s fem!whitney and I need to protect my hot delinquent gf away from the little gremlin. going “NO, NOT MY GIRLFRIEND, KYLAR!!!”

it’s so fucking ironic too, whitney isn’t really all that different than kylar, wouldn’t they also do the same at the sight of poor little pc helplessly getting fucked against their will by a hoard of people? they’re just as possessive as the freak if you ask me.

why else to they completely snap whenever that one student in math class is ‘looking’ at you too much, fisted hand ready to meet the fucker’s face as they slam that unfortunate kid on the desk. why else do they insist on fucking you after catching one of their friends making a pass at you, pissed look on the delinquent’s face, shoving their cronies filthy hands away only to pull you behind to school to ‘claim their territory’.

these two little idiots are a lot more similar than they’d like to admit, wanting you entirely to themselves, own every single inch of skin on your body, wanting your eyes on them and them only.

and by god, if they’re not going to fucking kill anyone who gets in the way of that.

#rambled quite a bit there #my bad #degenerate anon #I only have one word for you #freak. #pft #dol #degrees of lewdity #whitney the bully #kylar the loner #my pc shamelessly defending fem whitney #cuz im down bad #sorry kylar #need to protect my hot delinquent gf #asher gets asks

[thydungeongal]

Hey do you have any reccomendations for Tabletop RPGs? I've pretty much only used D&D 5e but with the WOTC's latest acts of fuckery I'm wanting to move to some different games.

This is quite a broad question so while I would appreciate knowing what type of game you're looking for by the phrasing of your question it seems you've no specific problem with the game of D&D 5e itself and your problem is more with the company. I'll thus keep my answers limited to what I consider games in the general wheelhouse of D&D: action adventure fantasy.

Pathfinder 2e. Pathfinder is very much the big non-D&D fantasy game on the market and it's got a lot going for it: most of it is familiar to D&D players all the way down to mechanics, it has a free online rules reference called the Archive of Nethys which contains all the rules of the game and not just a stripped down set of basic rules, and it has a lot of ongoing support in the form of adventure paths and supplements. It is more rules-heavy compared to 5e, but that is not necessarily a bad thing: its systemic nature means that while there are more rules to learn, the GM has to make fewer off-the-cuff rulings.

Fantasy AGE. Green Ronin's house system, originally developed for their Dragon Age RPG and then turned into a generic fantasy RPG. Characters are made by choosing one of the four generic classes, Warrior, Mage, Rogue, or Envoy, and then specializing. Uses a 3d6 system with one of the dice as a special effect dice that generates stunt points for you to use on attacks and maneuvers. Aims to be more cinematic than D&D, not sure how well it does that.

Break!! The one action adventure RPG I'm looking forward to the most at the moment: very much a D&D-like albeit with a unique setting and aesthetic. Heavily inspired by video games and anime. Absolutely gorgeous and just looks fun. Very much looking forward to this one. It was recently Kickstarted (I was one of the backers) and the full release should be around the corner.

Rolemaster. If you're insane like me you might get a kick out of playing a stupid fantasy game with lots of tables. If you check the #rolemaster tag on my blog you will find me talking about this game that is actually the best and makes D&D look like a dumb baby game for dumb babies. (Note: don't actually get into Rolemaster unless you're already a weird type of guy who enjoys huge lookup tables or wishes to become one.)

Now I may have misinterpreted your question and you may be looking for something completely different from D&D. If so, let me know, and also let me know what specific wishes you have from an RPG. That way I can better recommend you more games. :)

#thydungeongal answers

[are-you-still-writing-that]

Yandere Alphabet: Sano “Mikey” Manjiro

So, he was requested several times, and I finally finished him. Go me! With Univerity back in full swing, and several exams, as well as a seminar paper looming over me, I will simply be glad for every word, that will be written. Though, without furthere ado, here he is!

Sano Manjiro/Mikey

A childish personality, that covers up the worst, that goes around in his mind. He is double-faced, not in the worst way, but still in a way, that could become quite dangerous to you. Every word he says, you need to think over twice, as you can never know, when he is actually telling you the truth or just dishing up another lie.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

He clings to you, shadows your every step, as he slowly eats up every last second of free time you have. Even if you don´t have time for him, he will always find a way to you, regardless. Sitting quietly next to you one second, and nearly chattering the whole time the next. Dragging you around town nearly the whole day, only to have you in a death grip at night. Holding you tight. And tighter still.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

He isn´t afraid to get into a fight over you. Especially, considering who he is, and what his reputation is in the first place. There aren´t many things, that he takes care of while fighting either. He only watches out for one thing, that you will never see him loose it, like he usually does. When he knows, that rage starts to bubble up inside of him, he makes sure to shepherd you away first, before pouncing on the other person. And then, nothing will stop him.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

While he doesn´t seem to understand the reason you´re making such a fuss at the moment, he doesn´t really get angry at you. Instead, he will start to coo over you, honestly trying to soothe your nerves, when he pulls you closer and rocks from side to side with you, even though it feel definitely mocking to you. He is delusional in a sense, that he honestly doesn´t understand your reactions, even though it should be quite obvious. From his perspective, there was never an abduction, as you simply moved in with him.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling's will?

He will keep things from his darling, not usually with a malicious intention, but rather because of the deep want to keep his darling safe. With most of the time, only halt the information available or the truth distorted through his views, his darlings choices are never quite what one would call informed. He also never quite seems to understand the concept of personal space, no matter how often you try to explain it to him. As soon, as you stop, he will cross your boundaries once more.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

His darling is the only one, he doesn´t hide his tears from. He goes to them, if something is on his mind, and there is this heavy feeling in his chest. He is quite open with you, not afraid to be ridiculed for all the weak spots he usually does his best to hide from everyone all the time. With you, the mask of being invincible truly falls away, as he lays his whole heart bare for you to see. He gives himself freely and wholly away to his darling, and he expects the same from you.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

What are you doing? Hey! Stop it! That isn´t funny any more! C´mon, stop it already! He can´t understand why you´re doing this all of the sudden. From his perspective, there is no reason for you to suddenly act like this, so could you please cut it out already. It hurts him, to see his darling act in such a way, as if they didn´t want him to be close to them. It breaks his heart, and slowly chips away at his already fragile psyche even more.

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

He already can´t understand, why you are trying to fight back against them, this also leads into the conclusion, that he simply doesn´t understand why you´re avoiding him all of the sudden. He only starts to catch glimpses of you, before you vanish around the next corner. Over and over again. Just another glimpse, before you´re gone again. This, is one of the many small things, that will drive him to the edge, that will make him snap sooner or later.

Hell: What would be their darling's worst experience with them?

Overbearing and overprotective are words, that describe the way Mikey acts quite well, when it comes to you. He cuddles to close to you, and always seems to hang over you or to touch you whenever the two of you are in the same space. Though, the worst thing, for you, would be seeing him clearly splattered in blood, it slowly soaking into the collar of his shirt, but he is still acting like nothing happened. And when you ask, he will simply brush it off, before nuzzling closer to you again.

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

In the future he wants his darling all for himself. He doesn´t want a family or anything like that, he just wants you to love him as he does love you. And of that future he is absolutely sure. He knows, that it will take quite a long time, before he gets what he wants, but he also confident, that the wait will be worth it in the end. And with that optimistic and hopeful look towards the future, he goes forward, burdening himself over and over again to achieve a happy future, where he can protect the ones he loves.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

He does get jealous, though he tends to never fault his darling for anything, even if they would be blatantly flirting with someone, the other person would still be at fault for this "incident". Mikey tries to whisk his darling away from the situation as quickly as he can, before he deals with the culprit behind it all. It will be violent, bloody, and above it all, it will be messy as well. He isn´t satisfied, till the other lays as a bloody, whimpering mess on the floor. Only then, he will come back to his darling.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Most of the time, he has the attitude of a petulant child around his darling. Clingy and whining, whenever his darling tries to remove themself from the situation. He will pout and act like a brat. Sometimes, pouncing on you to make you stay for just a moment longer. Around you, he always tends to be more emotional, and all the masks seem to fall a_ways, very much to the chagrin of everyone else, that now also has to deal with this more childish side of Mikey.

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

The first thing he tries to win you over, is to show off to you. Stupid stunts, that are wholly unnecessary, then trying to take things away from you to carry them along for you. When this doesn´t seem to word he turns to the idea to woo you with food. He will start to share his snacks with you, as he tries to stay physically close to you. Though, there is one thing, that he never tries. Because even though he boasts with his knowledge on fighting, it´s always only in the theoretical sense, as he never openly fights in front of you.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

He is a bit colder and ruthless, than he presents himself to his darling. At the same time, he is a lot more emotional and invested, than others would know. He never really shows one person his true colours. The people around him, will always only know another side of him, as his mind slowly splinters apart, pulling him into different directions, as he tries to hold on to life. He is pessimistic and optimistic, selfish and yet willing to throw his life away for his loved ones. Mikey, is constantly overwhelmed, while being so terribly underwhelmed. No one does know him completely, as he himself doesn´t know himself either.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Even if your action might hurt him, he never truly retaliates in the same manner. Never hurts you like you hurt him, over and over again. In the end, no matter what you do, he will never punish you. At least directly. His anger though he will take out on other people, that had nothing to do with anything. And if his ire, ever turns towards the people you have held dear for so long, it´s not to punish you. But at this point, watching your friends turn away from you, you can´t quite help yourself but believe that this was intentional.

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

The right for privacy basically vanishes from the darling as soon, as any Yandere sets sight on their darling. With Mikey, it´s no different. He wants to know everything about you, and what you are doing at any given time. He has the unfortunate habit of finding you where ever you go, and at this point you can´t claim any more, that these are just coincidences any more. Though, he would never follow you around, would he? Well, he would.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Normally Mikey isn´t a very patient person. When he wants something, he usually tries to get it as soon as he can, even when it would have been easier to acquire it at a later point in time. Though, something is different with his darling. He will wait, patiently but not quietly for you to finally be just as infatuated with him, as he is with you. And he knows it will be worth it. He just knows. No need to be hasty.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

A part of Mikey would always cling to the love he lost. He would emulate either, a few of the mannerisms he picked up from his darling, or keep a their favourite clothes to him, wearing them repeatedly, no matter what it is. On some days, he would be looking in the mirror, contemplating, if he should start to style his hair different, or if the colour is truly the right one for him. Your image lays over his mind constantly, as he goes on with life.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Mikey has so deeply fallen into his delusions, where everything is fine, that he doesn´t even realize the severity of most of the things he is doing. That it also the reason, why he doesn´t have a problem with kidnapping you, or even feels regretful about it, simply because in his mind what he did, didn´t even register as a kidnapping. It´s hard to feel guilty about something, while being unaware to have done it.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

The early loss of both his parents, the loss of his brother through two of his best friends? The many unresolved problems going around his head? The neglect of the last adult in his family? There are many things, that could be root of his problems with how he perceives reality, especially when it comes to you. Though, there is nothing really, that you can pick out to be the direct cause. Maybe it was all of these things piling up over the years.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

When it comes to his darling Mikey tends to be very soft on them, and so seeing them screaming themself hoarse, and crying till they can only hiccup. It hurts him. It hurts him so badly. He isn´t even sure, why his darling is in so much pain. He knows, that there has to be something that he could do, but he can´t figure out, what that even could be. He is clueless, and you keep crying, and his heart keeps breaking, further and further.

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

Mikey never really poses a danger to you, no matter how deranged he actually gets, or how much his mind fractures under all the stress he is put under. He truly loves you, and wants a good future for the two of you. He wouldn´t settle for a coerced relationship, even if his delusions make it hard for him to actually decipher what is real, and what is just his mind. In the end, the thing that makes him different is, that he truly cares.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

He wants a future, that is good for both of you. Not one, where he is the only one that is happy. While his delusions will make it harder on you, there is one way for him to let you go. You have to convince him, that a future, where the two of you are together will leave both of you in shambles, with no one happy. It´s likely, when your words finally get through to him, he will let go. For your sake.

Wit's end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

If he ever hurts his darling, it would be an accident. He would recoil from the pain, he sees blossoming on your face. He usually feels like sometimes he is nothing more than a monster, but the feeling was never stronger than it had been in this moment. Mikey doesn´t want to hurt you, but still he did. For a moment, everything is still, as he still tries to decide, if he should move forward to apologize and reassure that it never happens again while he comforts you, or if he should do it while giving you space. In the end, you will have to be the one, that decides, while he swears to himself to never let this happen again.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Mikey loves his darling above it all. And though, it comes close to worship, it isn´t quite the same. He still sees them as a person, doesn´t put them on a pedestal. What makes him so possessive of them, is that he simply sees a chance in them to be loved, from someone he loves as well. He adores the way, his darling behave, and he never minds spending time around them or doing small favours for them. No, he doesn´t revere his darling, he simply loves them.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Sometimes, even when they have been already together for years, Mikey will feel, like he started to pine once more for you. Even, when he knows, that you´ll love him, like does. Sometimes he can´t help himself, but for the slight sighs and gasps, that come from him, as he remembers you once more. He will pine after you for the rest of his life, and he knows this already. When he snaps, this won´t have any part of it.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

While he never wanted to intentionally break your mind into the same fractures, that his own resembles, he ultimately shatters it regardless. Stockholm Syndrome is a silent killer, as it slowly eats up who you were, and starts to change your behaviours, and worst of all, the both you don´t even realize it. He breaks his darling, with his unwavering affection and kindness. With his willingness to let everything fall to the side, to immediately run to them.

#yandere #yandere mikey #yandere alphabet #xreader #Tokyo Revengers #tokrev #sano manjiro #yandere headcanons #headcanons #mikey headcanon #sano majiro x reader #tok rev headcanons #tokyo revengers headcanons #Yandere tokyo revengers

[ilovereadingandstuff]

Reconsidering what I explained in my last post here about RinHaru's relationship up to season 2, now i feel like I've seen most of the whole picture:

Rin is quite devoted to his relationship with Haru. I mean, their friendship and rivarly.

I noticed that Rin was the one to mostly make the moves, demostrate and say out loud his feelings for Haru (to the point that was kinda obvious and even Sousuke take note of that).

While, in the other hand, Haru...I feel like he's autistic or something.

Haha.

And I'm not saying this in a derogative meaning or with intentions of hurting anyone!! I'm hoping to not be that ignorant for using a term that does not apply here (correct me if that's the case)...but what I'm trying to say is that, actually, this treat of his character is just endearing: he doesn't speak that much, he's always straight-forward, silent and less expressive than others...this treat is one of the reasons why people like him so much, also something I like about him a lot, but to not lose the main topic: I think that's one of the reasons why I felt so one-sided his relationship with Rin.

I noticed that, after having to share much more time with Rin than the past time after their winning at final S1, especially in the movies, Haru was much more expressive both in speech and actions than before. And also, that makes sense!

S1 is him and Rin's conflict, mixed-up with the past-present and the construction of the clubs. This season was quite deppressing, in a way because of so much sour feelings in each character (mostly Rin and Haru) for their complications, so their 'happy side' was touched mostly at the end.

S2 they were focusing on their future and their own problems with the competitions and their respectives groups (alongside with Sousuke's story and Makoto's heavy participation). They were quite far from each other because their interactions were not a neccessity for the plot, and again, their 'happy side' and important interactions were handled mostly at the end.

S3 was heavely about Ikuya and Haru's story (that, at least, 7 episodes), and about their preparation to reach global levels. They were, still, a little much far from each other because their interactions, again, were not needed for the plot at that moment.

So, finally with the movies, the circumstances were the ones where they were going to interact with the other on one way or another. At the end, they were literally competing against each other, in the same group, against the same people (Albert, the other gringer/blond guy which I don't remember his name but was a hard swimmer also). They had quite a lot more meaningful interactions because they were together at the end of the day, participating in the same game...and while it was beautiful, I felt like finally I could see the reciprocity of Haru's feeling for Rin in terms of their relationship.

They were rivals after all, friends that worry for each other, that searched for the other when something bad happened, that supported, admired and inspired the other to be their best. And, something more beautiful, is that they wanted that. Both of them: To be together in that, racing to win. And they did, they won...and even after time passed and they met again in Bulgary...they kept swimming together.

I still feel that Rin is more vigorous when it comes to the relationship, but Haru's side is clearer now and I think I can say that, yes, this was a rivals to friends, meant to be, and they're both into it.

Thanks for reading this, which I consider to be one of the many internal disputes I have when watching two characters I like too much and I also ship them together.

#rinharu #harurin #rin matsuoka #haruka nanase #free! anime #not going to ignore Makoto's clear feelings for Haru #but also Sousuke's feelings for Rin #at the end #Makoto and Rin literally were the ones to reach to Haru in his critical moments #both were so gay for Haru #while Haru was like: I love you both...but water #and that's it #I've come to that conclusion #almost all characters were gay #sharkbait

[slashingdisneypasta]

Big Bad x AFAB!Princess!Reader || Drabble

Plot: This lives in an AU where you live in a basic fairytale where you're saved from wolves by a prince and you're aware of this happening over... and over... and over again. Theirs not a whole lotta context, just wolf/princess love and smut (: Haha XD

Warnings: SMUT, wolfman/princess smut!, monster fucker/furry shit (I consider this guy half wolf, half man- considering how he runs on his two hind legs whereas Granny runs on all fours), knotting, one use of 'bitch', dirty talk, cumming inside, and loss virginity.

Tagging: - No one yet! But do let me know if you want to be tagged for wolf stuff XD

His eyes on you are heavy and boiling hot, that beautiful red dress for the ball that you picked out suddenly the most endangered species in the kingdom. You had never felt him look at you quite this hard before, no one period had look at you like this before. Certainly not the prince your fairytale seems hellbent on you ending up with all neat and tidy-like. All you had shared with him before were sweet kisses and waist touches even on your many wedding nights- and that was nice. Yes, it had been nice. Edward was sweet, and you were good friends.

But this, though, being looked at like a meal, was completely something else. This is what you expected it to feel like when Edward first saved you; red, hot, heat that made you clench and feel like you were burning from the inside. It didn't, and you thought it must have been something they talked about in stories but didn't really exist... until this moment.

"Sweetheart... that is a nice dress, I gotta say."

With a little giggle, your heart beating hard in your chest, you spread out the skirt a bit; looking down. "You think so?"

"Red... was the right choice. You look good enough to eat~ " The ever-present growl in his voice seemed even thicker now, even rougher, sending a rush straight through you.

"... I'd- I'd like to see you try."

You don't know what possessed you to say something like that but by the sharp, gnarled grin on Big Bad's maw you can tell that you said just the right words.

Just a moment passes of him looking at you with that devilish grin before he reaches over, takes a handful of your skirt and tugs you to him. His maw is much closer to you now, leaning in towards your ear and growling directly into it. It sends a shiver up your spine, every patch of your skin on edge. "... I can do that for you, sweetheart~ "

His large clawed hand trails over your body from sternum to groin- as if he were gutting you, without actually hurting you. You know he must have done the exact same thing on a lot of less-fortunate's and it thrills you. Taking a risk, you trickle your fingertips up his strong arms, his eyes following your hesitant little hands with an amused smirk, until you get to his broad, furry shoulders. Slowly and carefully raising onto your tip toes you give the big bad wolf, your villain, a gentle kiss on the tip of his snout.

"Aghhhh you trynta drive a wolf insane, little princess?... thats a dangerous game ya know?... You could get real hurt... "

"You've never actually hurt me before, B,.. " He's abducted you and he's kept you, threatened you and teased you,... but never, in the years and years that you've done this thing with him - this whole fairytale routine, - has he actually hurt you.

"No?... huh, I guess I haven't." He doesn't attempt to explain why he hasn't, he just smirks at you.

"... what do you wanna do to me?"

... Big Bad's grin slowly grows and his clawed hands suddenly clutch your hips, tugging you against him and thick stomach, now. You let out a yelp that makes his ears perk up.

"You wanna see? I can show ya."

Taking a deep breath, and thinking about the script you've known your whole life - you get abducted by the wolves, you get kept by the wolves, you get saved from them and never look back, - and you nod. "I do." You're tired of that script. It never felt quite right.

"Oh sweetheart we are gonna have some fun... this has been comin' for a long time, dontcha think?... Now be a good little bitch and pull up that pretty dress for me."

Face hot, you take a deep breath and bite on your bottom lip as you think about it for just a second more before being obedient and doing what your villain just asked- no, told you to. Meanwhile Big Bad sticks his snout in your neck and your hair and takes a deep sniff; his eyes rolling backwards into his skull as the smell goes straight to his head like a drug. He lets out an awfully moving groan. "B- "

"Aghhhh Y/N- you don't know how long its been since I had a princess~ " He speaks directly into your ear and it makes you feel helpless- but not to him. To your own damn needs.

Before you can do anything though, Big Bad goes and sits himself down heavily on the ground and, looking up at you, pats his lap. You quickly get down with him, setting yourself eagerly on top of him. Your skirts, picked out for a ball that he is certainly not invited to, billowing out around you both like a crimson pool. Eagerly he digs down between you both and into his ragged old pants, held together by a piece of rope, and pulls right out his... um... man-part.

And- you've never seen one of them before! Certainly not one that's half man, half wolf. You're wide eyed, blinking at it getting pumped and wondering how that horrifying thing is supposed to fit. He notices your quiet shock-horror and uses his free hand to lift your chin up; Your adorable round eyed look connecting with the devious look on his mug. "... that's huge."

"Heh. Well, its gonna get bigger sweetcheeks."

"What!?- "

"Shh, promise, sweetheart, I got this. Just relax, and uh... heh, tell me if I claw at you a too hard, yeah? Like I toldya, its been a while... "

Swallowing nervously, you touch your fingers to the tip of it; the slit. The head is a bulbous thing, feeling wet and hot and firm. The touch makes your over-sensitive wolf growl again, the sound a frustrated melody from deep in his chest and makes your eyes shoot up to his face again. You open your mouth to ask if that's okay- when he flings your hand away from him and suddenly uses his own hand (Paw?) to shove his tip against your slick slit.

"Drivin' me effin crazy- Now, listen to me here doll, I got something important ta say." Big Bad holds up a finger and taps your nose with it then, making you pay attention to him. Which is hard, with his heavy knot resting on your clit. Your lips are parted and you already feel dumb, listening to him. "I'll be careful with ya the first few strokes... but after that I wont be able ta control myself... basic instinct, and all that~ You got that?"

"... yeah."

"Good~ Now c'mere."

~

True to his word, he pushes past your limits slow the first few times... gritting his teeth and watching his full length disappear into your sweet heat; Deep eyes flickering up to your face to check how you're going with it- but it wasn't long until this huge wolf-man was pounding your pussy like a man absolutely starved. Ravenous.

Feral.

"Bet your prince never had you like this," He growls, thrusting roughly into your cunt and slamming all the way to the hilt. "Bet he never even touched you."

All the humour you've come to know Big Bad for is gone, leaving behind just a wolf. A possessive wolf in desperate need to make you hit mate and mark you in every possible way so no one else even looks at you ever again. His claws are leaving scrapes on your soft hips, his teeth leave wounds on your neck that he soothes with his tongue, his sweat leaves a scent you wont be able to shake for the ball later. "He'll never touch you."

You're holding a hand tight over your mouth to keep from screaming, the pleasure of having your hole stretched and pummeled all too much for you. The knot on his cock stretches you all the way inside and every thrust delivers a perfect stroke to your swollen clit. Your hips roll desperately against his.

"Sweetheart you are the sweetest fucking thing I've ever been in. Perfect. Fucking- aghhhh. I'm gonna make you drip my cum for days."

"Ah- "

"Next time you come ta the cottage... you'll be able to scream as loud as you want. I don't care what anyone thinks, listenin' in. They're gonna think I'm fucken eating you whole with how loud I'll train ya to be for me. I wanna hear those squeals~" He licks your throat where he made you bleed with his teeth, groaning at the taste of your blood, and your hips actually stutter.

He starts to beat your cunt even harder, pounding into you with all the pent-up sexuality of a man who's been lusting for years, drawing you to a mind blowing feeling better then cake. Something hot explodes inside you, which feels good too as you come down from the amazing feeling and your heartbeat continues to beat fast- but you're finally able to take in some deep breaths. Begin to calm down again.

Big Bad does the same thing, breathing heavily and smirking at your cute exhausted form on his lap- still with his cock buried inside you. He cant see it over his generous tummy, but he can feel you throbbing on him.

"Heh... you know sweetheart?.. this is my new favourite dress a'yours."

Giving a tired laugh, you run a hand through your hair. "So, u-uh... what now?"

"Well, its gonna take a while for my thing to relax enough fa you to release me~ Heheh. So ya stuck with me for a few more minutes."

A smile warms to your face at that news, squeezing the knot inside you and making the smirk flicker from his face momentarily. "... good." You always loved your time spent with him better then your happy ending, anyway. It can wait.

#i stayed up way too late writing thisssssssssssssss! 😅😅 #oh well XD #anyway this is just something fun since I'm playing with the character XDD #Big Bad Wolf x Reader #Big Bad x Reader #Happily N'Ever After x Reader #Drabble #Smut #Wolf #Big Bad x Reader Drabble #Big Bad Wolf x Reader Drabble

[princessasmosprincess]

The Sleepover

Part 1

Summary: RAD exams are rough, you go to Levi's room for a little comfort.

Pairing: Leviathan x GN Reader/MC, demon brothers

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None.

***

Author's note: I forgot to mention this when I first posted this, but this fic was actually inspired by a matchup @levi4thans did for me months ago. I had never really considered Levi as a romantic interest before then, but after that I couldn't stop thinking about him trying to comfort MC and I knew I needed to write something. I've been sitting on this little story since August and I really wanted to finally post it, so pardon the two part structure.

***

Your heart was heavy.

Was it burnout from exams? Were you missing your loved ones in the Human World? Were your insecurities mounting until they became unbearable? Or maybe it was a combination of the three.

You found yourself wandering the halls, your feet moving automatically. You weren't sure where you were going until you arrived at Levi’s door.

He was gaming, of course, you heard the electronic sounds of his game and the clicks of the d-pad under his rapidly moving fingers. Occasionally he’d exclaim something you couldn't quite make out through the door.

You didn't bother with the password you customarily rattled off every time you visited Levi’s room. You weren't sure you could even remember it with the state your mind was currently in.

Levi didn't notice you enter the room, he was too engrossed in the game.

You made your way to Henry’s fish tank and pressed your hands and forehead to the glass. Watching the little orange fish swim around was usually soothing to you. You hoped now it would calm your troubled heart.

Levi cursed as his avatar was killed by the boss. Stretching, he prepared to start again. “Good thing I saved back at the drawbridge, huh Hen–”

He jumped when he saw you standing there.

“I didn't even know you came in, MC,” he pressed a hand to his heart. You were staring at him, your usually bright eyes glassy. “Did you come to play Devilkart?”

You shook your head, closing your eyes and wrapping your arms around yourself.

He stood up from his gaming chair. “MC–”

You couldn’t keep it in anymore, the tears just started flowing.

He practically ran to your side, his hands hovering around your shoulders. His Player 2, his favorite human was broken. What was he supposed to do in this situation? “M-MC what do I–”

You closed the space between the two of you, burying your face in his chest. He hugged you back after a second, his heart rate elevating. He wasn't someone who was used to hugging other people, that was more Belphie’s or Asmo’s domain. Either of them would have been better for this situation. Yet you’d chosen him, you’d gone to his room.

Taking a deep breath, he squeezed you tighter. You needed the clear-headed action of Grand Admiral Leviathan right now, not the panicked frenzy of Levi the yucky otaku.

Focus Levi, focus.

“Can we stay like this?” Your voice was muffled by his shirt.

Like a miracle the right words had tumbled out. “Yeah, we can stay like this for as long as you need.”

He sunk to the floor with you in his arms, guiding you to sit on his lap. Your body shook with sobs as you hugged him tight, tears soaking into his shoulder. You cried awful heaving sobs while Levi rubbed circles into your back.

“It’s going to be ok, MC.” he said quietly. He wasn't sure if his words would be comforting to you but he felt compelled to say something. It broke his heart to see you cry.

After a while your exhaustion caught up with you and you succumbed to sleep, your body going limp in his arms as you snored softly.

Levi sat there for a moment, one shoulder leaning up against the glass of Henry’s tank, still holding you. What was he supposed to do now?

He opened The Demon Brothers chat on his D.D.D. and started typing.

– Hlep!

Lucifer: Hlep? Is this some kind of new slang word?

Asmodeus: I think he just misspelled “help”.

Lucifer: Oh.

Satan: Is it one of your cursed games again, Levi?

Asmodeus: It better not affect the rest of us, I have plans later!

Lucifer: You really need to be more considerate of the household when choosing your games, Levi.

– Not a game. 3D world problem. Hlep pls!

Beelzebub: What’s wrong then?

How was he supposed to explain this quickly?

Mammon: ???

Belphegor: Must not be that big of a problem. Beel, wake me up if something interesting happens.

Beelzebub: Ok.

Levi opened the camera on his D.D.D. and took a selfie. His cheeks were dusted with pink as he looked over your shoulder, his eyes pleading. Only the back of your head was visible in the picture but the hair was unmistakably yours. He sent it.

Pounding feet sounded down the hall moments later, rapidly approaching. Levi’s bedroom door crashed open.

“Get your hands off a’ them, ya creep!” Mammon growled.

“Shhhh!” said Levi. “They’re sleeping. Help me get them into my bed.”

“Hell no, I ain't doin’ that.” Mammon hissed.

“Mammon, please. My legs are asleep and the bed is right there.”

“Fine.” Mammon lifted you easily from Levi’s arms. He paused, contemplating if he should just run away with you, before reluctantly slipping you into Levi’s bathtub bed.

Levi rubbed his legs to get the blood circulating so he could stand again.

“Well, well, what have we here?” Asmo leaned on the doorframe, his eyes lighting on his two older brothers standing over your sleeping form.

“Shhh!” both of them said.

Asmo sauntered into the room. He took in the scene with relish, imagining some sort of indecent scenario until he got a glimpse of your face.

“Wait, were they crying?” Asmo knelt by the side of the bathtub, looking at your puffy eyes and the tear tracks on your cheeks. “Why?”

Levi shrugged. “Stress maybe? One minute they were watching Henry swimming around, the next they were breaking down.” He could relate. The mind and body often didn't realize what it had been through until after the battle was over. Quiet could amplify the pain.

“So that’s why you were holdin’ them like that,” Mammon looked relieved. “Well now that we cleared that up, why don't we take them back to their own room?”

“I don’t think they wanted to be alone,” said Levi.

“Poor thing,” Asmo brushed your hair out of your face before tucking the blankets tighter around you.

“So what do we do?” Mammon asked. “They ain’t spendin’ the night alone with Levi, that’s for sure.”

Asmo smacked him on the arm. “We let them rest for as long as they need. Stress is like murder for the skin.” He got up and started toward the door.

“And where are you goin’?”

“I’m going to get some pajamas for MC and a few things from my room,” Asmo smirked over his shoulder. “We’re going to have a sleepover in here.”

Asmo was out the door before Levi or Mammon could protest, pushing past Lucifer and Beel who arrived next, with Satan and Belphie close behind them.

“What is going on in here?” Lucifer quirked an eyebrow.

“Is MC ok?” Beel asked when he saw you in Levi’s bed.

“They’re tired and stressed out,” Mammon said as if he had been the one who’d made the discovery. “Seems the RAD workload is a bit too much for a human.” He gave a pointed look towards Lucifer.

“I will have to speak to Diavolo about that then,” said Lucifer.

“Ha! When I complained about exams you basically told me to suck it up.”

“That was your own fault.”

Satan nodded, “As much as I hate to agree with Lucifer, you squandered your study time and therefore reaped the consequences of your actions,” He said, “MC and I studied every night up until exams while you went to the casino. Although I had no idea all that work was taking such a toll on them.”

Beel’s stomach growled loudly. He took a step back, ducking his head guiltily. “MC was in charge of dinner tonight but they need to rest so–”

“We’ll order takeout,” said Lucifer, pulling out his credit card. He handed it to Beel. “Order something MC likes and do not go overboard.”

Beel was practically drooling as he took the card. “Ok I won’t.”

Lucifer sighed, “On second thought maybe Satan should go with you.”

The fourth born acquiesced, he would follow Lucifer’s orders tonight for your sake.

The two left together, leaving the rest of the brothers to listen to their footsteps disappearing down the hall.

“So now what?” Belphie asked after a moment.

“We’re having a sleepover, apparently.” said Levi.

***

Cross-posted on AO3

#obey me shall we date #obey me #omswd #obey me fluff #leviathan obey me #leviathan x gn reader #levi x gn reader #leviathan x gn mc #leviathan x mc #leviathan x reader #lucifer obey me #mammon obey me #satan obey me #asmodeus obey me #asmo obey me #beelzebub obey me #beel obey me #belphegor obey me #belphie obey me

[fayes-fics]

Moments: Chapter 9

Moments Masterpost

PREV | NEXT

Pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Slow-burn fic. Follow on to No Good Advice probably best to read that first. Read previous chapters of this fic from masterpost here. In this chapter, Benedict makes 2 proposals!

Word Count: 2.2k (this chapter only, 14.4k total for all chapters to date)

Warnings: None…. fluff, fluff, flirting, kissing.

Authors Note: Here be the penultimate chapter in the adventures of James Darby and his parents. I thought I should release just this single chapter now, as a few people seem to be enjoying this story. There will be chapter 10 which may be quite long then 2 epilogues to follow. Thanks as ever to @makaylan for her fantastic betaing and advice. Could not have done this without you lady <3

Chapter 9: Moments from a long walk

Over the next few days, life is a wonderful lazy summer sojourn, filled with family picnics, spirited outdoor games and watching Benedict and James paint together and grow closer. James has missed a father figure after years with John, and watching him naturally bond with Benedict has made your heart soar. As you put him to bed the previous night, James asked if Benedict could move in with you both, and you cried a little after kissing him goodnight. Your moments around Benedict have become increasingly charged with an energy you feel humming over your skin. The way he looks at you, the stolen glances, it’s agonising and fantastic all at the same time.

Aubrey Hall has been a beautiful spot you don’t want to leave. On your penultimate day, Violet approaches you at breakfast.

“Y/n, I wonder if you would mind me spending the day with James? I'd like to get to know him better, and you could take the day for yourself. A nice long walk around the estate, perhaps? There are some beautiful views from the hills on the Eastern end of our lands.” She advises.

“Oh, that sounds lovely, Violet. I’m so happy you wish to get better acquainted with James. He really seems to like it here with all of your wonderful family, so different from our life, just the two of us, at Darby Hall. Thank you” 

Just then, Benedict walks in and instinctually kisses James on the head before grabbing a cup of tea. The way he has taken to fatherhood so naturally is such a wonderful gift.

“He helped so much to raise Gregory and Hyacinth when Edmund died,” Violet explains, intuiting your thoughts as your eyes track him, “he was ready to be a father long before James came into his life.” She speaks quietly so James cannot hear.

You watch as James gets up from opposite you to grab more eggs, and he and Benedict chat and fill their plates with food.

“I assume there are no other claimants to the Darby line,” Violet breezes, keeping a heavy topic intentionally light.

“None. The family was small - my husband was an only son, of an only son, of an only son. From my research, all other lines of the family died off without issue to a current living heir. James being Viscount does bring unique challenges. I’ve had to learn a lot about estate management and accounts in a short amount of time,” you chuckle, “and obviously, James’ true parentage must be kept confidential within the family.”

“Of course,” she assures, “we would never dream of revealing something that would hurt one of our own,” she pats your hand affectionately, “and I’m not just referring to James,” she smiles indulgently.

“Thank you,” you blush, so happy to be considered part of the family.

Benedict and James sit down together. Their movements are almost comically in unison. 

“The challenge,” Violet whispers, “will be quelling the rumours should these two be seen in public together; they are so very similar, it’s actually a little disconcerting.”

You huff a laugh as she giggles too. 

“What’s so funny?” Benedict queries, looking at you both cautiously.

“Nothing, my dear,” Violet assuages, “Y/n will be going for a walk today while I spend time with James. I'm sure she could benefit from your extensive knowledge of the grounds, dear,” she suggests pointedly.

Benedict looks at his mother as if there is some secret code in what she is saying. “Yes, mother; I would be happy to,” his eyes fall to you, “if you wish it so.”

“Of course,” you answer, a little skip in your chest as you realise it will be a long walk with just the two of you.

—

An hour or so later, you find yourself strolling with Benedict on a path towards the hills. It’s a beautiful sunny afternoon with a light breeze, and the smell of wildflowers in the meadows fills the air. It’s the sort of day poems are written about.

It’s just the two of you. No servants or chaperones - such is the freedom bestowed on a widow. Benedict carries a leather satchel with water carafes slung across his body. He’s dressed less formal for your walk, just some tan trousers, brown riding boots, a white shirt loose at the neck and a simple brown suede waistcoat. He looks outdoorsy and very handsome. You wear a white cotton dress with simple embroidery and your most sturdy boots, ready for a bracing walk over the fields and hills.

As the grade of the path gets steeper, he offers you a hand over some gnarly tree roots; he does not relinquish his hold as the trail evens out again. So you walk hand in hand in companionable silence, observing nature and the views as you ascend.

As you reach the brow of the hill, you are afforded the most spectacular view over the Kentish Downs. A patchwork of fields, hedgerows, wooded copses and little villages dotted out as far as the eye can see. 

“Oh, this is beautiful,” you exhale, shielding your eyes from the sun and drinking in the view and the sun's warmth on your skin.

“It’s my favourite spot on our estate, possibly the world,” he admits releasing your hand to take off his satchel, “I wanted to show you,” he confesses bashfully.

“Thank you, Benedict,” you reach out and squeeze his hand, “and not just for this, for everything this week. Inviting James into your family it’s been so wonderful for him. I can’t thank you enough.”

You dare a glance up at him, and he’s looking down at you with an expression that even you can recognise as devotion. He looks nervous, too, like he’s on the precipice of something important.

“I love you,” he confesses suddenly, grabbing your other hand, so he holds both. “I’ve loved you for six years–I never stopped. And I love James more than I ever thought possible, even in just a few days. It’s humbling, actually. I know it’s only been a very short amount of time since we’ve been reunited, but I don’t want to be your friend. I… I want us to be together. And not like before. That was wonderful, but it was less than what you, what we, deserve.” 

You are reeling from that little speech as you watch him get down on one knee, his hair tousled by the winds. His eyes are a little watery as he looks up at you, still holding your hands.

“I can’t imagine my life without you and James. Please, will you do me the honour of being my wife?” 

You stop breathing for a moment. Every piece of a jigsaw of the future suddenly falls into place.

“I… Benedict! Yes!!!” You grab his face, your eyes watering. 

His lights up as you bend over, and your lips meet for the first time since that fateful day six years before. It’s like no time has passed, and you melt into each other as you always did. Passionate and loving. Without breaking the kiss, he stands up slowly and pulls you into a firm embrace. 

“God, I’ve missed this; I’ve missed you so much,” he stutters against your lips, breaking the kiss just to breathe. 

“I’ve missed you too, so much. I love you,” you murmur into his mouth.

You stand for what may be many minutes reacquainting yourself with each other’s kisses.

“Wait!” He breaks away. “I do have a ring!”

“You do?!” You giggle.

He fishes into the satchel he was wearing and pulls out a ring box. 

“This was my maternal grandmother's ring,” he explains, “I figured the mother of my child should have a ring that runs in the female side of my family.”

Watery tears obscure your view of the ring, but you see it’s a lovely aquamarine ring flanked by tiny pearls on a delicate gold filigree band. 

Your hand shakes as he places it onto your finger. It’s a little loose, but you don’t want to take it off.

“Benedict, it’s beautiful,” you stutter, “thank you”.

“I can’t take full credit,” he demures, “my mother marched into my room last night and pushed it into my hand, after I’d idly said I would want it one day. I suspect we would already be married if she had her way” he chuckles softly.

You giggle. “Yes, she and Kate have been discussing marrying into the Bridgertons all week.”

He rolls his eyes. “I'm so glad they didn’t scare you off.”

“Never,” you smile, “nothing could scare me away from you.”

He blushes so hard that you launch yourself at him and tackle him to the ground. Desperate to be with him; proper behaviour be damned.

“Wait… wait,” he laughs as you grab at his clothing. “I have another proposal,” he takes your hands from his body and holds them in his.

“I’m all ears, Mr Bridgerton,” you answer with a giggle as he rolls you gently under his frame.

“We do this properly,” he says enigmatically, bringing your hands up to his lips and kissing your knuckles, his lips lingering over the ring he gave you.

“What does that mean?” You frown playfully, intrigued, feeling a little breathless from just his hand kisses.

“It means we don’t do anything beyond kissing until our wedding night,” his voice husky, “like real newlyweds.”

“Are you serious?” you chuckle. 

“Totally,” he hums, his lips tracing over each of your fingers in turn, “that will make it so much better, no? The anticipation.”

“But we have had so much sex…,” you respond, bemused, watching his lips intently.

“That was then,” he argues, stopping his ministrations to look into your eyes, “this is now. This isn’t a dalliance with an expiration date. This? This is real; this is marriage; this is making a family–you, me and James. This is forever.” His tone is reverential as he opens your hand and kisses your palm.

His impassioned speech once again has you slightly speechless.

“How long?” You ask when you find your voice.

“Hmmm?” He is distracted, kissing the heel of your palm, his warm mouth sucking gently, causing all your nerves to fire.

“How long until we can get married?” You clarify.

“Two weeks,” he replies, “unless we elope.”

“Let’s do that,” you rush out.

He chuckles as he runs his nose over the pulse point on your wrist. “My family might kill me if we did. But,” he pauses and sits up, bringing you with him and points at a church below, “we can marry in that little church right there in two weeks if we post our banns today.”

“Let’s do it,” you gasp, eager for the rest of your life to start.

He chuckles and points, “we can walk that pathway right there and be at the church in about twenty minutes.” 

After a few more moments of admiring the view and a few stolen kisses, you begin your journey to the church, Arm in arm.

“Wait, where will we live once we’re married?” You ask.

“I don’t care, as long as I’m with you and James. I have my cottage; you and James have Darby Hall; we can live in either or both. It’s your decision, my love,” he says.

“Oh, I like it when you call me that,” you smile. “Actually, I guess as Viscount, it’s technically James’ decision,” you giggle “are you willing to follow the whims of a five year old?”

He laughs heartily, “My son has me wrapped around his finger already; whatever he wants, I will happily do.”

“He will be so excited; he asked me just last night if you could live with us,” you comment lightly.

Benedict stops walking. “Really?” His voice is thick with emotion.

“Yes, my love,” you reply, trying out the term of endearment yourself, “he already loves you.” You touch his face as you watch his eyes mist up. “We both do.”

He rests his forehead on yours and closes his eyes. “I missed so many years; I need to make it up to you both.”

“It wasn’t by choice, Benedict. Our lives before were dictated by circumstance; it’s the choices we make now that count. You never have to make anything up to James or me,” you assure, curling your hands around his face. 

He nods understandingly.

Then you smirk a little. “Except maybe one thing”, you whisper huskily.

His eyes fly open at your tone, and his expression morphs into something heated and playful. “What is it?” he asks, “what do you need?”

“I’ve missed out on six years of sex with you. You have to compensate for that,” you smile, running your fingers into his hair.

“Oh, I do, do I?” He whispers, his crooked smile turning devastating.

“Oh yes. How long can we honeymoon for?” you murmur,

“I’ll ask my mother to take James for a whole week if you want,” he breathes, hands trailing up your back.

“Mmmm, better make it two, Mr Bridgerton,” you raise an eyebrow, and he swallows hard as you move in to kiss him.

“Your wish is my command,” he utters against your lips.

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