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doomednarrative · 1 year

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talk about plaga leon au NOW 🔫

OKAY!!

I'm gonna try to explain how this stuff Starts because it diverges from the canon obviously with how Leon and Ashley get rid of the parasites for themselves.

The thing that really kickstarts it all is that last scene that Luis and Leon have together before Saddler kills Luis. In this timeline, it’s not so immediate.

Basically, in this au Luis gets to Leon a bit earlier before Leon finds Ashley and is able to actually talk to him a bit. Not much, but he has enough time to be like “Look I was a researcher, that’s why I know about this stuff and why I have these suppressants for you and Ashley so you can keep the parasite at bay until you can get to the actual cure for it.” Leon of course isn’t stupid and has suspected Luis wasn’t all he said he was originally, but he’s grateful for the help none the less.

The problem comes in when Luis tells him that he’s also managed to smuggle out not one, but Two different Dominant plaga samples from under Saddler’s watch, and he knows Saddler’s going to come for them. One of them is the normal sample that he was supposed to give to Ada, but the other one is one he was working on in secret that not even Saddler was supposed to know about. It’s a version of the Dominant that has regenerative properties, making it’s host that much stronger than a normal Dominant, and overall working Differently than the usual Dominant. This host would be able to mutate at will and hide those mutations normally, making it less drastic and more important, not irreversible like the others.

Luis doesn’t tell Leon all those details though, he just says that it’s a much more powerful version than the one that already exists, and expresses that he has to find a way to get rid of it. Leon suggests just destroying the sample but unfortunately for them both, it’s not as easy as that and the plaga would just find a host to attach itself to either way, which wouldn’t be ideal if the wrong person got to it.

Leon’s like “So what, do you have some other idea for getting rid of this thing or are you just going to carry it with you?” And Luis, because if there’s anything he’s learned in the brief time he’s known Leon, knows that this is someone who he can trust to actually do the right damn thing and not abuse any power he’s given, is like “Well...I actually was going to suggest injecting you with the parasite. If you can get to the island with Ashley in time, you’d be able to remove it before it can cause any damage and then no one would have it.”

This is, of course, another lie. Dominants can’t be destroyed the same way the other variants of the Plaga can, and Luis knows this. But he also knows Leon might be the one chance he has to put this thing into the hands of someone who won’t destroy the world with it, even if it means Leon might hate him later or never forgive him for it.

Leon of course thinks this is a crazy idea, “I’ve already got one of these things crawling around my insides, putting another in there might kill me!” But Luis is already on it, trying to tell him that it wouldn’t work like that, “the Dominants work differently, if anything it might just absorb the other and you’d still only have one to worry about removing,” knowing full well if Leon says yes to this he won’t be removing anything. The Dominant will make Leon it’s permanent host and Leon will have to live with it for the rest of his life.

They both know they're on a time limit here. Leon has to find Ashley, and Luis knows that he may very well die here soon if he doesn't move fast. Neither of them really Wants to do this.

But in the end, Leon...does agree to it, if only because he does agree that letting it get into the wrong hands is something they can't allow. He basically tells Luis "Fine, stick me with the thing if you have to. But if it keeps me from getting Ashley home safe then you Will have a problem on your hands."

And Luis assures him that it won't. "These ones, they take time to mature. You'll be able to get it out before it's a problem, what with how smart you seem to be."

They do it then and there, because there really is no time to spare, and Luis does feel bad about lying to Leon about what he's really taking on. But there truly is no time, and it's not long after Leon's been injected that Saddler does catch up with them, and Luis does die the same as he does in canon while Saddler takes the other Dominant sample for himself, with Leon promising Luis in his final moments that he'll get it back.

The rest of the plot of 4 plays out mostly the same. Leon eventually gets Ashley back, they get to the island, and Leon does successfully remove Ashleys plaga at least. They think Leon's has been removed safely too, but in reality it was only the first one that got removed. The Dominants tend to attach themselves to the base of the spine, and both because of that and because you can't see from that angel on the radiation table, neither Ashley or Leon realize that the Dominant isn't dead, its still very much attached to Leon. But it doesnt stop him from defeating Saddler, and he and Ashley do make it home safe as they well deserve to.

Of course for Leon, the nightmare that he thinks is over is just beginning.

He gets home, and as is mandated goes to his post mission physical, and while he passes it, the doctor basically tells him "Look, for your own good and because I think you actually need it after everything you went thru, I'm signing off on two months medical leave. If I see you back in the office before that time's up I Will make them send you home." Leon wants to protest because he's Fine, Really, and he knows he gets antsy if he's home for too long. But in the end, he's fuckin exhausted, and so he does go home and he crashes.

And thats Supposed to be all this leave is for. Time to recuperate from everything that Spain threw at him and to catch up on sleep.

That is unfortunately not what happens.

It takes a few days for the Dominant plaga to fully mature and attach itself to Leon, that's just par for the course with Dominants. But it's a few nights into his medical leave that Leon starts having nightmares again. He still has them occasionally because of Raccoon City; that trauma never really leaves him no matter what he does. But these are much more intense, nightmares about Spain, about not being able to save Ashley, about watching Luis die again, and sometimes about still having the parasite in him, watching as he has his agency stripped from him due to being controlled with the parasite by others.

Well, one night, when the nightmares are particularly bad, Leon's own plaga actually Responds to that fear that he feels. Canonically in the lore, Dominant plaga transformations take the shape of whatever the host Needs at the time or what would be most useful to them (which is why Krauser's is a knife arm for example; he's a close combat specialist, it's what makes the most sense for him to have at the time.)

Leon's own plaga responds to a need to Protect himself, and so when it manifests it gives him armor of a sort. Plating around his lower arms and sharper claws to keep people at a distance, a tail and four plated bug-like legs appearing on his back to both use to wrap around himself as a shield but also to keep that same distance from people. A split open jaw up the sides of his face and a row of sharper teeth to warn people to stay away. Those features along with the signature red eyes and veins are what makes up Leon's mutations, and so when he wakes up from his nightmares and realizes he's actually Become what he saw in his dreams, well. Naturally, he freaks out.

He secludes himself away in his apartment because really, what the hell else is he Supposed to do?? He thought this wasn't going to be a problem, Luis told him he'd be rid of the parasite with the radiation, and now he knows that was a lie because he's clearly mutated and become a monster and he has no clue how to fix any of it. Its a horrifying reality to wake up to and he has no clue how to handle it.

And of course, Leon's notoriously bad about reaching out to people for help, and he's certainly not going to do so when he knows if anyone saw him like this they'd shoot before asking questions. He's certifiably a BOW now, he hunts these things for a living. He knows he's fucked if he lets himself be seen like this.

But he has no idea how to reverse it, and so he just. Holes himself away in his apartment to try and figure out whats going on alone, even though he has absolutely no clue where to even start.

Thankfully for Leon, he has some extremely stubborn friends. Namely, a certain Redfield who knows by now that if he doesnt answer her text about getting post mission breakfast together, then there's something seriously wrong going on.

Claire's on one of her rare breaks doing at home Terrasave work, and she knows Leon is stateside again, so she's annoyed that he's not answering her back about food. This is tradition, he never skips out without reason but hes not even answering her back. So she decides to go over and meet him at his place to see whats up.

What she's Not expecting when she gets there is for the front door to not only be locked, but also Completely barricaded. That's not normal behavior for Leon, not on a normal day. Thankfully, Claire's a master lockpick, and Leon's place happens to have a fire escape by his bedroom window, so she manages to find a way in reguardless.

And the First thing she's greeted by when she comes in is what looks like a murder scene.

Blood on the wall, on the floor, on Leon's sheets...no weapon to be found, and no body, but certainly not the mess she expected to walk into. It's not until she scans the room (which is completely dark save for what little light filters in from the window she opened, also an odd thing that she notes) that she sees Something huddled up in the corner trying to stay out of her view.

It's hard for her to make out in the darkness, but eventually the mess of blonde hair becomes visible, and Claire realizes, horrified, that whatever she's looking at is Leon, but...not the Leon she knows. And certainly not one who looks human anymore.

She doesn't even think at first, because if there's one thing that her instincts have taught her it's that waiting will get you killed, and before she knows it her gun is out of her side holster and it's pointed directly at whatever creature has assumed her friends face, and Claire has the horrifying realization that she may just have to kill her best friend if he really isn't himself anymore.

And the worst part is she knows he would want her to if that really was the case. He'd rather be taken out than hurt anyone, they'd discussed that much before.

And meanwhile Leon has been sat here against the wall the whole time watching as Claire finally found him (because really, who else would have gone out of their way to check on him But her) and as he watches her pull out her gun and turn it on him, he realizes two things:

A. He really, actually doesn't want to die. Not this time.

B. He has to convince Claire somehow that he's still himself if he wants to keep her from shooting him. (She's still hesitating, and he can see it. But he knows it won't last like that if he doesn't say something.)

And thats when Leon finally moves, inching a bit closer to Claire, reaching a hand out.

"...Claire?"

It feels incredibly Weird to speak like this, his voice vibrates in a way he's not used to and he hasn't spoken in the past few days and so he sounds very rough when he finally manages to get her name out.

But it Does work. It gets to Claire enough that she hesitates, and asks him back if it really is him in there, if he's. Well. Still Leon.

And he tells her "Yeah...still me. Even if I don't look like it."

It does take her a moment, but eventually, Claire does put away her gun. She's not sure if she'll regret it, but by god if she doesn't Have to kill her friend (yet) then she won't.

And it's only then that Leon can breathe the first sigh of relief he's felt since this whole thing started.

#i could keep going but i HAVE TO STOP SOMEWHERE #resident evil #kief rambles about resident evil #plaga leon #leon kennedy #SORRY THIS GOT SO LONG BUT TRYING TO CONDENSE THE IMPORTANT PARTS OF THE BEGINNING IS KINDA HARD LOL #anyways Please if you want to know more ill keep talking this is barely scratching the surface #its just the first little bit you need for context for it all #my writing #<- not really but this post needs a tag

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sateurn · 8 months

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😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

These sobs really limited my tags?????

I have so many more thoughts this is so so much less than 1/2. Broski. Big dislike

#its ‘i watched a tv show and i need to talk about it in the tags of this site im not on anymore’ time #ty to the void for always accepting my thoughts <3 #so honestly its just me thinking about the andromeda tv show. i just finished it and it left me destitute bc i clung onto the first 2 season #s as a basis and had ten thousand questions i *assumed* would be resolved. spoiler alert: they were nto #not*. and the coda addition helps but like. not enough. it explains some of the #oh fyi if anyone is reading or cared there will be spoilers #anyways it explained some of them ex for the cosmic engine bit. seemed pretty relevant and then was never mentioned again #i also MUCH prefer that version of trance — i had speculation she was a sun avatar which i took as confirmation when i finally noticed her #tattoo when harper used it to remind himself he put that data in the sun etc etc but i much prefer the sun-as-consciousness-astral-poject-#ing-slash-dreamjng-itself-a-body / being a little devil. i think that feels much more true to what we got in worldbuilding early on and tbh #the bar is on the floor bc any explanation would be better than what we got. also im sorry but s5 i trusted SO hard that that whole virgil #vox bit in the finale was insulting. couldnt even tie up the loose end you invented at the last minute????? MY god. i understand getting you #r budget halved but like. broski. it would have been better to ignore it at that point imo.#anywhoodle. i also have just ISSUES w the lack of resolution & not doing justice to literally any character #listen. why would you sink SO much effort into tyr just to have honestly what i feel is a disrespectful end to that character. like #tyr required me to do a LOT of thinking bc i sympathized with his position in exile etc while thinking also bro thats real fucked up. bro #stop thats fuckinng e*genics again dude. tbh with the entire species (im not looking up how to spell that rn) bc like the foundation of #their entire race is e*ugenics. (sorry censoring bc im in the tags just venting about tv) which obviously is a terrible idea but i think the #so it was like i am fundamentally against the concept but in show universe theg obviously did it etc but for me provided such a huge like #context to the universe. i fundamentally am not on board with all the commonwealth stuff like yeah i get it the magog are bad and scary but #like the neitzcheans (sp??? idc) are also Right There bein scary. then theres the ‘enhanced’ debate re dylan beka etc that like. is the same #but ‘’different’’ i guess. 🙄 anyways that is just to point out like. the level of thinking this show put me through just to blindside me w/#no resolution. i had SO much hope. tyr selling iut to the abyss is disrespectful to all of the established work the actor did for him and #to the character as well even if i think the ideology is icky. he was shown to be even less and less self-centric survival guy as it went on #and also tbh i didnt understand the him stealing his kids dna thing. i really thought that was gonna gi in a different less bs direction #okay also while im here can i just say. that tyr and dylan had THE most romantic tension to me. everyone else felt very friendshipy and i am #NOT one to usually fall into a ‘they obviously should be together’ pipeline that the writers dont make themselves. but the back and forth (#and intense eye contact) had me sitting there like. it was made in 2000 i know they wont do it but for not doing it they sure did! not that #i think they’d make a good couple (they would not) but that there was definitely something there on the dl you know? something more than #‘mutual respect’ you feel? and tbh! they also ruined the tyr beka thing by making her the matriarch. big ew huge ick.

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systemofshadow · 5 months

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i got new teeth recently. well. new is dramatic, it's a filling, but it's my two front teeth that have changed. and dentist threw in something he thought was kind. he smoothed over the chips, built them up, made them whole.

i hate them.

see the thing is, that despite trying to fix what was broken, the new parts of these teeth aren't real. and they're thicker than they were before. and they feel different pressed against my tounge. like they aren't meant to be there. they look exactly the same.

but they can never, ever go back to being the teeth they were before.

i'm the new teeth, because this life is full of metaphors. i'm the new teeth, and w is the old teeth who actually fit. i'm the new host, built out of the previous. you can still see them, (the teeth, and the teenager who i used to be. the young adult i used to be. the person i was, and can never become again.) they're still there, not entirely replaced.

they look the same.

but the differences are there, and they're uncomfortable. this is meant to prevent any further chipping. this is meant to fill the void. this is meant to make it better. and yet, it feels wrong, the new teeth are wrong. and so am i.

i wish i had a poetic end to this post. all i have is discomfort.

#system stuff #i hope this makes even a little bit of sense.#w is still here (i mean literally here she's haning out beside me in my room in headspace) but. yknoa #actaully she just said. well ig you need some context abt the conversation but. i was talking abt how im always in my bedroom in headspacw #and she said 'because you locked youself away' which is accurate. in doing so i shackled myself to the front #and basically we talked about how i can't let go of the front becuse i care so much about experiencing being alive #and she joked im 'the first one of us' who cares so aggressively about living #and thats so much of the discomfort im feeling. its been like four years of caring and im exhausted #anyway #just in case you thought being a system was super serious all the time we also talked about dying our hair and cutting bangs #like immediately afterward

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hoseoksluna · 1 month

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ROSÉ | jjk

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x wine!oc

genre: smut

word count: 5.7k

summary: on your first dinner date, your boyfriend brings you a small gift—too bad you're too horny to appreciate it.

pinterest board: wine

warnings: a bit of drunkenness, a mention of inner child healing, oc teases jungkook and oc is horny as fuck, dom/sub dynamics, wine!jk, provider jk..., daddy issues, punishment, spanking, food used during intercourse, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), dirty talk, a mention of a sex toy & a mention of a plushie in a sexual context, raw sex, brattiness, jk and oc smoke together

note: OH GOD—IT'S FINALLY HERE. SLFJSLDFJS. A REQUESTED DRABBLE about wine!oc and jungkook. this was so fucking fun to write and i was so hot and bothered from this that i had to take a break............ yeah uhm anyways, I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS. ENJOY READING AND LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK ANONYMOUSLY IN MY INBOX. I NEED YOUR THOUGHTS. PLS AND THANK YOU. ₊˚⊹♡

side note: jk in the first pic made me fucking die. and other things....

The rosy pink nectar has, undeniably, gone to your head.

Your empty wine glass is illuminated by the setting sunlight spilling past your shoulder, reaching its yellow, warm fingers to the tips of your boyfriend’s that rest lazily on the white cloth of the table. You’re woozy, in a lighthearted mood—so much that even the world has lost its heft and all you can sense is the sluggish process of your absorption. You’re engrossed in the way the spring coalesces with the beginning of summer—in the warm evening wind ruffling your curls, tickling your bare shoulders, in the darkening hues of the sky, pinks and violets, in the gray smoke of Jungkook’s cigarette interlacing with the slightly sultry air. You can see it in his eyes, the unfolding of it all. And perhaps you’re tipsy or perhaps you’re just brazenly and foolishly falling in love, because you’re aware that if the man weren’t sitting in front of you, none of these things wouldn’t have caught your attention in such a devastatingly profound way.

He has made you feel so safe. By simply and beautifully laying his feelings bare. To you and for you. Created a haven for you to dwell in, for you to grow in and explore all the dark and light corners of you that have merely seldom seen the face of the sun. How could you not indulge in a little bit of alcohol, when you’re protected in that place of security? Let your girlishness swim a little, refresh herself, enjoy herself?

You’re glowing. You always had been, but your shimmers have gained a new intensity to their twinkles, keeping Jungkook’s liquid stars warm and taken care of inside of you. Their blunt points have carved you into someone else entirely, too. Joyous, cool-headed and absolutely and irrevocably self-assured. Fearless. And his hands have reached deep within and caressed the head of your inner child, healing her and washing her clean, giving her everything she ever lacked. Love, attention, care and validation. Whenever you remember that you never wanted him to get a glimpse of your soul, bile rises in your throat and your stomach hurts.

He saved you. Healed you. Through and through. Gave you his control.

It stirs your never-ending awe that he has managed to do this in a month, and you want to celebrate it. You think now is quite the perfect occasion for it as it’s your first dinner date since you’ve become exclusive. Having spent most of your time at each other’s places fucking, partying and fucking some more, it’s nice to be out, alone with him, that is—and it’s nice as fuck to be out with your boyfriend. The sex has become so different with the label and the rawness of his feelings. And the thing about Jungkook that gets you the most, that strengthens the realm he invented for you, is that once his emotions overflow, the stream of its wine doesn’t stop pouring. The moment he confessed his love for you, ever since then you sense it expressed in everything he does—in the way he greets you in the day, in his tight, burning embrace, in the tenderness with which he holds your hand or kisses it, the relentless, great thought and consideration he puts in the choices he makes for you on the daily. Whether it’s the fatuous things he buys you that mean the world to you, the way he never neglects bunny and incorporates her in everything you do together or… the sex.

Fuck, the sex alone has taken over your life so vividly and drastically that it consumes your brain. There, in that environment, is where the wine of his emotions is the raciest. He’s not ashamed to cry, letting those liquid pearls trickle down your collarbones, quenching the thirst of his liquid stars as he fucks you dumb and enjoys every second of it. He’s not afraid to be loud either. To talk you through your orgasm with even more care and detail than you were accustomed to in the past.

He’s become boundless. And it’s the most attractive thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

God, you’d be crazy not to let yourself fall for him—

“I got you dessert,” Jungkook husks, digging his fingers into the pocket of his pants while his other digits draw close to his mouth. He takes a drag of his cigarette, crinkling his eyes so the smoke wouldn’t get into them and you beam at him with a fire that’s more scorching than the sun’s ever been in centuries, heart doing somersaults at the thought of him thinking of you and spending money on you again. And, also, at how hot he looks while he smokes.

Your love language must be gift-giving. You don’t know what else to connect it to, the joy that envelops your entire being whenever he gives you something. It doesn’t even have to be expensive, nor does he have to pay for it at all. Drawings have become your favorite keepsakes—drawings of his Miffy bunny, drawings of flowers, of you. You’ve hidden them away in a box along with everything he’s ever brought you, except the white bunny ring because you wear it daily and one small, particular drawing that you’ve put inside your glittery phone case.

A cutesy marker sketch of him and you. His arm around your shoulders. Bunny sitting on your laps in the middle, as if she were your own child. Cheeks big and bubbly, pink and twinkling. Your curls the way you wear them; his mullet. A perfect depiction of the pair of you. You gaze at it every single day—prefer to now put your phone face down because of it.

You’re tracing it now with the pad of your finger as you wait for him to reveal your mystery gift to you. The bulby heads, the cheeks, Miffy’s ears. Jungkook puts out his cigarette, puffing out the smoke, away from you, and once he’s done, he taps the back of your hand. Turns it over and spreads out your fingers, inserting, at a snail's pace, something round but slender at the same time, smiling adoringly at you.

What a sight to behold. It steals, fleetingly, your attention away from his hand.

Slicked back mullet, twinkles taking laps in his soft eyes, blushed cheekbones and stretched, pouty mouth, shiny with his liquid love. Long neck that you’d like to devour now, the broadness of his shoulders and chest that could come second as a plain, dark beige shirt accentuates his hard work at the gym.

Oh, fuck. Your nipples pebble against your carmine tube top.

Jungkook withdraws his hand and with blurry eyes, you look at the thing he placed in your palm.

Chupa Chups. Strawberry and cream.

Your mouth parts and it’s a concoction of a gasp and a sound of endearment when the realization that he got you a lollipop sinks in. Your heart flips and does a head stand. Lips round into a pout, drunk eyes softening, its twinkles growing in size and light. It’s like he gave you something golden, when in fact it costs a few wons, but to you it’s exactly that. Something so precious.

You give him an air kiss, bouncing in your seat in joy, fingers already destroying the wrapper. “Thank you so…”

Your brows furrow as the wrapper remains intact. You do a bad, bad job of picking at the tape around the slender stick, your long manicured hands absolutely useless—and the cause of your frustration. You puff out an angry gust of breath, trying harder to get to the sweet delight and it’s at that moment that your boyfriend takes it from your hands with a deep chuckle.

“You silly boo, this is how you do it.” Jungkook pinches the wrapper around the stick and he merely, in a few swift motions, twists the ball until it lets go. He scrunches it in his fists and throws it away in the ashtray. Smirks smugly, leans his elbows on the table, draws close to you. You mirror his position, get to him almost nose to nose, and his smirk deepens, tongue darting out to lick across his lips. You do the same, eyeing the round pinkness in his hand, the sexual attraction and its tension soaring high between you.

Without your hands, you could put it in your mouth, mimic the way you do it on his own tip and make him lose his mind a little bit. It’s right here, an inch away and you dip your head towards it, a magnetic pulling drawing you naturally to it. Sense his gaze on you, sense his delight, sense the flashback glimmering across the wholeness of him. But before you could wrap your lips around it, he moves it out of your reach.

“No,” Jungkook murmurs, breath slightly ragged, holds it up in front of your face, watches as you go cross-eyed a little bit. Hums at the sight, quietly enough for only you to hear. “If you want it, ask for it nicely.”

His puffy lips being so close to you, you desire to kiss him—cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink, his oh-so-loved dominance fucking with your drunkenness and your brain, body altogether. You tip your head to the side, flutter your lashes, make your eyes big and smile at him as sweetly as you can.

He coos, validating you, and it is a force that makes you feel safe enough to submit to him like a small animal to its father. Safe enough to want to get under the table and make him feel really, really good, too.

“Can I have the lollipop, please?”

He groans, still quietly, and your panties drench immediately. You widen your eyes at him, feeling your slick, pursing your lips to scold him silently. He just laughs, amused by it all, and the sound of his joy fills you with elation.

One that darkens, when he asks, “Where?”

You lick your lips, taking in the question, struck by it. Letting your mind wander, the places where you want it, except your mouth, is on your nipples and your clit. Nicely sweet and sticky—for him to clean up, for him to enjoy. Your dewiness soaks the material of your panties and your body begins to yearn for any kind of friction. You’re not sure whether you’re able to stick around in your chair, acting as if nothing’s wrong—acting as if you’re not stupendously horny.

“In my mouth.”

Jungkook makes a noise of appreciation and you’re so frustrated by all those sounds he makes that you want to dig your nails in his arms and make him pay for it. Even more so, when he plunges the lollipop into his mouth and his lips pucker around it, inciting the butterflies in your tummy to go absolutely fucking berserk. You place your hand on his bicep, nails ready to attack, but then he pulls out the treat with a pop, angling it at your mouth.

“Open.”

You thought he stole it from you, but he did no such thing. He wetted it for you, like a father for its child. You’re stupefied to the point that you don't even realize that you’re leaving a mark on the linen material of your seat.

You do open your mouth for him, however.

He twists the ball on your tongue, expecting you to close your mouth around the stick, but you don’t. No, you swirl that muscle around the candy, deepening your gaze, smirking. Jungkook stills, clenches his strong jaw. Darkness flicks across his eyes and he narrows them. First warning.

You pretend you don’t see it.

Closing your mouth and encasing your hand around his, you move the lollipop to the side of your cheek, acting as if it were his dick. And when you bob your head once, Jungkook tugs on the stick, wanting to pull it out, but you don’t let him, keeping it caged between your teeth. It only drives you to bob your head again.

“Stop,” he says, voice calm, deep and serious—terribly deadly. Withdraws his hand and leans back, watching you with a predatory gaze, one that makes you even wetter. “Or we’re going home.”

That’s exactly what you want. Instructions clear.

You open your mouth and do a show of swirling your tongue around the ball, only this time you flick the muscle against it. Jungkook grips the table, knuckles white, and you laugh, which you soon realize was a grave mistake.

“You think it’s funny?” he questions you, staring you down with a look that should frighten you, but it merely turns you on. You suck on the lollipop, the dulciness of strawberries suffusing your senses. “I’ll bend you over this fucking table, lift up that slutty little skirt and spank you in front of everyone.”

You pull out the candy with an exaggerated pop. Scowl at him. As though his words didn’t affect you the way that they did—as though you’re not squeezing your thighs together, trying to gain that friction you so desperately need. “Why are you so angry?”

He looks away for a moment, laughing silently. Nods his head at your wine glass. “You finished with your wine, baby?”

It’s this pleasantness that you hear in this voice that spreads goosebumps across your skin. Feigned sugariness—the sunlight right before the clouds come in and thunder strikes; the calm before the storm.

Good thing you’re dressed for the rain and ready to sing in it.

You nod your head and Jungkook clicks his tongue, grabs you by your hand whilst he pulls out his wallet. You accompany him as he walks over to the bar, black card ready between his fingers. Waits to be noticed. Gives you a look over and fixes your skirt, pulling the hem down.

Pays for you. Smiles down at you as he pockets his wallet.

And then, he drags you to his car.

Perhaps it’s the fresh air, perhaps it’s the briskness in his walk and the tight hold around your hand, but all intoxication evaporates from your body, leaving only your stained elation and neediness. You can’t help your smile. Think it must be sewn in at this point. By his own diligent fingers.

A wind blows in, pulling your hair to your front and Jungkook pins you against his car. Tits squished against the passenger side, elbows pressed together. Eyes wide, you check your surroundings and find no one in sight. Only swaying trees, buildings of apartments, lamps illuminating the dark street. You relax right away, trusting Jungkook that he’s on the lookout and knows what he’s doing.

He grinds his hips against your backside and you moan at the feeling of his hard length. With his free hand, he brushes your hair to one side and begins to pepper kisses along the curve of your neck, nuzzling his face in. Hovers his lips above your ear when he says, “You feel how hard you made me with your little show?” You nod, quickly, wanting more of him, wanting him inside of you. Push your hips back; twirl them in slow circles. Jungkook hisses. “I guess you really do want that spanking. Where’s your lollipop?” You show him your hand, where your treat remains uneaten and dry. He takes it from you and you turn your head in time to see him sink it into his mouth, placing it on the side of his mouth like you did. “Get inside the car.”

Jungkook opens the door for you and forces you in, closing it with a harsh thud. As he rounds the vehicle, he makes eye contact with you and your tummy flips in response.

Fuck.

Nothing happens in a millisecond once he’s seated, but then he grabs your cheeks, squishing them in the way he likes, and kisses you hard, lollipop in hand. Moving his mouth against yours, his tongue only briefly greets you before he pulls away. “Naughty fucking girl. You’re lucky that I love you because otherwise…” He doesn’t finish his sentence with words, but with another kiss, breathing against you, grunting when it’s you this time that slips the tongue inside, playing with him the same way you played with the dessert he got you. “Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me. I’m gonna put you in your fucking place, make you remember how to behave in public. You’ve forgotten, haven't you?”

You don’t have time to react, you merely bite your lip so hard that it aches. Jungkook pushes you back and yanks your leg between his, lifting your skirt. Then, he hovers his palm above your ass, the other forearm resting on the top of the seat, lollipop dangling near your head. He hides his smirk behind his effort to flatten his lips.

And when he spanks you, you don’t roll your eyes back and rasp like your body naturally wants you to. No, you hold the eye contact and you take the pain, letting it course through your body, reveling in it. He doesn’t say anything as he keeps going, alternating between slapping your now reddened cheeks and the back of your thigh. Doesn’t even stroke the skin to alleviate the burn. He solely bores his gaze into yours, his cock rock hard against your leg. Another set of words are exchanged, silently, deeply, teaching you your lesson in tandem with the hits, burying it to a great depth inside you.

And then he finishes with a nasty kiss, but his hand resumes causing you pain. You’ve lost count of how many spanks you’ve taken.

It’s like you’ve woken up from a trance. It reverberates throughout your entire body and it’s now that you allow your body to vocally react. You whine, rounding your mouth in a pout, so different from the one on the dinner date. And you remember your manners—perceive how wrong it was to tease him, even though a good half of you still takes delight in it.

“It hurts,” you whisper, nudging your lips against him and he gives you your last spank—the hardest of them all. The infliction makes you flutter your eyes shut and Jungkook brings them back to him by caressing his knuckles down your flushed cheek.

“Good, you remember how to behave now?” he asks, halting his movement, such piercing intensity in his irises that drive you to nod your head. “That’s my good little girl.” Taps the side of your thigh. “Let Daddy make it better now.”

You open your legs for him and Jungkook pushes your soaked panties to the side, revealing your little bedewed seashell. He hums at the sight of her, pops the lollipop back inside his mouth. Collects your arousal by swirling the pads of his middle and ring finger around your hole, eyes flicking from your pussy to your own, groaning when he comes into contact with your swollen clit, rubbing slow circles. You whimper, bucking your hips, needing him to go faster, needing to come.

Jungkook shakes his head, disapproving. “You take what I give you or I’ll stop.” Lifts his hand to express the gravity of his threat and you help, wrapping both hands around his and putting it back on your bundle of nerves. He chuckles at your desperation, giving you the same circles, though now firmer.

Waves the lollipop near your lips. You open your mouth, instinctively, and he plunges it into your mouth for a mere second before he pulls away, growling at the sound that comes out. He does it again, fucking you with it in a way, just to hear that pop and he’s so pleased with it that he sinks those two fingers inside your heat, fully, in one ego. Keeps them there. Teases you. Hovers the lollipop out of your reach and you decide to fuck with him back. Darting out your tongue, you whirl it around the flat side and he swears, moaning, giving to you at last.

He latches his mouth onto your neck, starting the drill of his fingers. “Fuck, you’re so hot.”

He picks up the speed so rapidly that you scream, squeezing your eyes shut, the pleasure permeating your body so vastly that you quiver all over. Grab a hold of his hair, pulling on it and then—

Then, he withdraws his fingers. Ruins your orgasm.

You pant, trying to catch your breath. “Please, Jungkook, please—”

He nudges his nose against yours. “What, baby?”

“I need to come, please.”

Jungkook tuts, kissing you once. “I thought we could play.” Plunges the lollipop into your mouth to wet it. Shows it to you, just to see you go cross-eyed again. Moans. “Where do you want it, hm?”

Ever the angel that makes your fantasies come to life. You wrap your fingers around his hand, butterflies swarming in your tummy. Lead him towards your still clothed breasts. “Here.” Take him to your drooling pussy. “And here.”

Jungkook makes a sound of approval. Descends his fingers a little lower, to your other hole, circles it. “What about here?”

You giggle, but you shake your head. The idea may be intoxicating, however reality is much different. There’s a risk to putting any sweetened food inside, one you don’t want to deal with.

Jungkook smiles at you, pushes your seat back and slides it in the same direction. Crawls over you and you feel so feminine, so sexy underneath him. Nipples perked under your top, breasts full and spilling. You arch your back towards him and Jungkook drags his thumb from your bottom lip, to your chin, neck, the dip of your collarbones until he reaches the hem of your Tom and he tugs it down so harshly that you can’t contain your very own concoction of a gasp and moan.

Lollipop in mouth, one hand propped by your head, the other squeezes your breast hard, nearing it, fingers pinching your nipple. Makes the flesh as red as your ass. You can tell he likes the view by the way he coos, but then he wipes all your thoughts away, when he sucks hard on the candy and swirls it around your stiffened nub, gaze flicked to yours to watch your reaction.

The pleasure is so vivid, so dizzying—and for him, you let it paint your face in all its colors. Brows scrunched, bedroom eyes, mouth parted, puffing out desperate breaths. Jungkook sucks it again and smears his saliva around your other nipple, taking his time, slapping the ball once against it, making you hiss.

“It feels so good,” you murmur, sinking your fingers into the longer length on the back of his hair, bringing his mouth to yours. You kiss him with a verve that causes him to groan. You swallow that sound, satisfied.

He grins at you. “I bet.”

Dips his head and envelops that sugar-coated nub with his warm lips, sucking it hard. His groan spreads there, deepens there and you arch your back even more, pulling his head to your other nipple so he can do the same thing. Join your other hand to his hair and do whatever you please—turn his head side to side, from one nub to the other—and he lets you, giving you, momentarily, his control. You feel your essence soaking the seat beneath you and you thank the heavens that the fabric is one of leather. You lift his head and try to push it down, but he won’t budge. Stares you down instead, lustfully.

“Where do you want me?” he asks, a wrinkle between brows. “Be a good girl and tell me.” Pops the lollipop back in his mouth.

You sigh, kissing him once on the side of his neck, using your tongue. Make sure you’re looking at him as you reply, “On my clit.”

He moans, eyes woozy, finger on the stick as he sucks the candy, clefts of dimples on either side of his cheeks. You palm his length, your own digits rounding across his tight balls and he whisks his irises back, grinding into your hand. “You want a lickie?”

“Yes, so bad, please.”

He hums and kneels before you, kissing your clit once in greeting. Then, he flattens his tongue and licks a fat stripe across your whole femininity—from your slit, to your swollenness. Hands on your hips, index curled around the lollipop, he holds you steady, prevents you from meeting him, as he stimulates you like this. Up and down, tongue rolling, eyes fixed on you, devouring you. And when he stops to suck your clit, he taps your mouth once with the ball of the lollipop. The act of sucking on something while you’re getting pleasured like this almost throws you over the edge, your body coated in a layer of sweat, but Jungkook withdraws in time. Presses the delight in the middle and rubs small circles, just to prepare you for the big thing. You become so whiny, so loud that his eyes grow in size, watching you in awe.

To reward you for such beauty, he rapidly strums it from side to side, causing you to nearly levitate, but he pins you down. Wetting it and placing it back down, grunting at the aftertaste of you mixed with the sweetness.

And he can’t resist. Can’t hold back. The wrinkle between his brows deepens when he tastes you, licking you all over, tongue stopping occasionally its feast to flick at your clit before he swallows you whole. Grunts, sucks, licks. Eyes closed to savor the taste. The pressure in your core heightens, even more so when he lifts your legs, greedy for the side dish in the form of your other hole. You’re so close that you might burst.

“You taste so fucking good, baby. So sweet. Come on my tongue, please, I want more of you.”

He wants more of your taste.

You come so hard that your orgasm takes you to an open sea, your body floating on calm waves, to and fro, eyes rolled to the sky—to the sunroof—seeing nothing but the elegance of the twinkling stars and deep purple clouds.

“That’s it, baby, so good. That’s my little girl.” He slaps the side of your thigh, bringing you back to him. “Listening so well, learning her lesson, coming so hard. I’m proud.”

His words alone could make you come again, but you’re distracted.

Jungkook unbuttons his pants and pulls out his manhood. Stroking himself, he lines his tip at your mouth. He doesn’t even have to tell you to open up—you do it yourself. Holding it at the base, he stuffs your throat right away, a guttural chuckle emitting out of his mouth when you gag. He pulls out to where you’re comfortable having him and you begin to bob your head, like you did with the lollipop.

“Yes, suck it like that, my love. Daddy loves it when you do that.”

His precum on your tongue, the way he’s holding himself, the position and his words—you moan around him, so out of your mind, so fucked out. And when he fucks your mouth, it turns you on so much that you go cross-eyed.

Jungkook pulls out quickly, as if the sight of it alone was about to make him come. A string of your saliva from his tip drips onto your chest and he slides into your mouth again just to poke your cheek, just to mimic what you did with the lollipop. You whine, liking it so much, to the point that he drills this tender place of yours until he can’t take it enough.

“Turn around.” You try to, but your legs are jelly. He manhandles you to the position he wants—on your knees, tits against the leather, arms around the headrest, the formerly abused cheek against it. “Hold onto it. Too bad we left bunny at home, huh?”

Jungkook runs his cock across your pussy and you grind against it, needing the friction after the way he used you. You whimper for him. “She’s probably wondering where we are right now and why we’re taking so long.”

“I’ll make it up to her.” He presses his length against your clit, encouraging you to use him back. “Rub your pussy like that on me, fuck.” He moves so it’s his tip that stimulates you. You ride him harder, moaning loudly against the leather. “You can make it up to her, too. Can ride her like I know you can. With a vibrator between your legs and hers, hm? How you like the sound of that?”

You’re so close you could come in a second, but you don’t want it like this. You need him inside of you. “Shut up, I’m literally gonna come like this. Fuck me.”

He fists your hair. Pain shoots up your scalp and he ruts into your heat. Fully. Until his pelvis collides with your ass. You scream.

Lips by your ear. “Is this how you talk to your Daddy?” He begins to pump into your little tight hole. Mercilessly. The leather squeaks, a horrible, rapid sound that you can only faintly hear because all that your senses can focus on is his cock. “Your Daddy that loves you so much?”

You come, pathetically. Sea and waves, palm trees that sway. Your legs tremble, but he keeps going, mouthing the shape of your ear.

He tsks. “I’m gonna tell bunny on you. Maybe I’ll be the one who gets to fuck her while you watch.” He gives you a hard stroke, one that is followed by rapid thrusts that scramble your brain. “She’ll be so disappointed to hear how bad you’ve been, but I’ll make sure to tell her how hard I fucked it out of you.”

Lifting you from the leather, he kneads your breasts, placing the lollipop in between and holding it up by squishing them.

“Come on, get your lollipop.” He bounces your tits in his hands, signalizing you that he wants you to do it with your mouth.

But you can’t do it. You come, majestically, your senses leaving you and wafting in the stuffed air of the car. Boneless, you sag in his arms.

Jungkook coos. “You come so well around me that I’ll be good to you. You’re just a cockslut, aren’t you, baby? You just can’t help it, hm?” He puts the lollipop inside your mouth, chasing his so-needed release.

It doesn’t take long for him to find the footsteps into that bliss that you left in your wake. He holds you like this, against him, tits spilling over his forearms as he jackhammers into you so hard that your whole body bounces, shakes and reacts to each grunt, to each whimper, to each kiss he presses onto your skin.

With the little of the brain you have left, you decide to talk him through it—because he fucks you so good.

“Come for me, Daddy, yes, please, fuck. Fill me up with your cum. I want it so bad, I want to feel you—” His cock twitches in you, but he continues, sloppily. “Yes, so good. That’s it. Come for your little girl, Jungkook.” A loud groan. A tight hold. A spurt of his cum inside your walls. You whimper and he fucks it deeper into you, giving you more of his liquid stars. “Jungkook, oh fuck, Jungkook, oh yes.”

And it’s that never-ending litany of his name that helps him chase his high to the fullest. He kisses your neck hard in gratitude for helping him come, marking you, marking this memory.

You stay like this for a little while. Sweaty, sticky, spent, breathing hard—lungs synced.

A warm announcement sneaks to your heart, one that screams it into the drowsy skies once Jungkook pulls out of you, turns you around and, stealing your candy, kisses you.

An announcement that you’re deeply and irrevocably in love with him.

“You sounded just like me.” He finishes your lollipop for you, chewing the small bulby head as he dresses you and his cum spills onto your panties.

Your smile is dopey, satisfied and you’re ready for sleep to take you, but Jungkook gets out of the car for a smoke. You think you need one, too, after what you’ve experienced together, and so you follow him out into the night on wobbly legs.

He leans against his car, a cigarette in his mouth, one hand cupping the fire as he flicks his lighter to life. You wait until he puffs out the smoke into the air before you fold into the side of his body, stealing his cigarette and inhaling it, giving it back to him.

Jungkook pats your head, rubbing your scalp, chin propped on it. “I didn’t mean what I said. You were perfect. I’m not telling shit to bunny, I promise.”

You smile, fondly. Didn’t take his words seriously, not at all, but you’re grateful for the reassurement regardless. It’s just role-play, nothing else.

“I know, baby,” you say, softly, massaging his stomach, going as far as under his shirt to feel his bare skin—ever so innocently.

“I wanted to fuck you the moment you sat down. You’re just my little helper and because of that I’m glad we’re going home with my cum in your panties,” he whispers, placing the cigarette on your lips, so you can take a drag. “You deserve every drop.”

You feel that familiar ache rooting in your core again, but you don’t think you can take another round. Jungkook lifts your chin, making you look at him. Twinkles, bigger than the ones of the stars up above, living in his soft eyes. That cute nose. Those pouty lips. His silky, dreamy heart that looks out for you and puts you first.

The three words that you’ve never told him before rise up your body and you think now is the perfect occasion to say them.

“I love you.”

Wetness coats his eyes and the twinkles broaden, saturating them with an unfathomable, fulging light. He flicks his cigarette away, presses you closer to him and with his now free hand, he cups your face. Kisses you. For a long, long time.

“I love you.”

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#jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot

1K notes · View notes

aeyumicore · 3 months

Text

☾ .⭒˚ heartstring symphony ♡ xavier x afab reader

⋆.˚ ☾ pairing: xavier x afab!reader (very fem!reader)

☾ .⭒˚ genre: smut, pwp, pwf (so so so sooo many feelings like a whole ocean of feelings)

⋆.˚ ☾ word count: 10.1k (oh lawd)

☾ .⭒˚ content warning: mdni, tiny reference/spoiler to chapter 4 of the main story (grandma and caleb), references to xavier/overall lads lore, first time sex (not virginity loss), explicit sexual content, pure pure filth but also so fluffy and emotional, unprotected sex, oral sex (f!receiving and m!receiving), lots of making out, pussy job, finger fucking, tongue fucking, cum as lube, references to xavier’s evol, slight use of y/n, switch!xavier, slight predator/prey play, somewhat vanilla

⋆.˚ ☾ video link: not necessary to watch in order to read and enjoy, but i highly recommending watching the memory for context and a visual for the fic! https://youtu.be/U-OanLwbSVE?si=Um0NFib7gQOTGrLq

☾ .⭒˚ a/n: HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY BABIESSSSS COME GET YOUR FOOD. oof this one is a doozy. based off the memory ‘heartstring symphony’ with xavier, there’s a lot of small changes to the progression and the dialogue, but its largely on par with the original memory! there’s a lot of ‘plot’ building as this memory is a bit long and i really wanted to incorporate parts from the beginning, middle, and end so i ended up needing to write for the entire thing. the build up is kinda important to the smut but you can definitely still just skip to the smut (ya filthy hoes)!!

100% dedicated to my bestie who is the downest baddest bitch for xavier!

⋆.˚ ☾ 18+ only ☾ .⭒˚ minors dni ⋆.˚ ☾ 18+ only ☾ .⭒˚ minors dni ⋆.˚ ☾

The sunlight bounces off the sheen of the strawberries that are finally ripening enough to eat. It’d been months since Xavier and you had started your quaint little rooftop garden atop his balcony, and your collective dedicated gardening was finally rewarded with the most beautiful crimson strawberries you’d ever seen. Having been tasked with tending to his house plants on his sudden trip away, you found yourself spending a lot of time with the strawberries on Xavier’s apartment’s balcony.

"But even though you’re bearing fruit, your owner isn’t here,” you murmur sadly, stroking the slightly sticky skin of the berries. Okay sure, you were undoubtedly projecting your own feelings onto the poor little strawberries, but who could blame you? It’d been ten days since Xavier had suddenly left town and similarly ten days since he’d responded to any of your text messages or returned any phone calls.

And dammit, you missed him. Missed his deep groggy voice when he’d pick up your phone calls at 11 am asking if he’d had breakfast yet, his bewildered face when you’d barge into his apartment demanding that he take you to play crane games, the way he’d pretend not to notice when you swapped hands during kitty cards. Ever since you’d first met the enigmatic hunter in the abandoned protocore research base on your first mission as an official hunter, you found both your night and day dreams being filled with the thought of him.

You’d even missed him enough to send a few regrettable late night texts, confessing just that. At 4am. You groaned inwardly at the embarrassment of recalling your deleted messages. Really, no one should be allowed to send any text messages after 1am. Least of all you, who had so many confusing unresolved feelings for the silver haired man in question.

The sound of keys jingling a door open snaps you out of your thoughts. Your heart pounded, he was finally home! Excitedly, you scrambled back into Xavier’s apartment, to be met with the sight of him struggling to remove his uniform top. The sight of his sculpted torso on display before you like an absolute art piece, had you freezing in your tracks, cheeks heating at the glorious site before you. Xavier also froze, his cerulean eyes locking with yours in surprise.

"You’re…here?” his voice was as warm as you'd remembered, the sound of it forever etched in your mind. But it sounded too soft, tired. Exhausted even.

"Y-yeah…the weather was good today and I wanted to check on the strawberries,” you attempted to remain calm and collected, turning around to stop from staring at his exposed stomach. But the plethora of injuries on his pale skin caught your eye. Instantly, you were at his side, inspecting him and assessing his scars.

“...You got hurt?!” your heart hammered anxiously in your chest as you reached to touch him. He peered down at you guiltily, pulling his top back down to cover the scars. He gently pried your hands away from his abdomen, letting his fingers linger on your skin far longer than he’d needed to, the touch not going unnoticed by you.

"It’s nothing, let me go get changed,” Xavier finally released your wrists and left you to wait on the couch for him. You felt on edge, waiting impatiently, feet tapping anxiously against the carpet. Xavier finally reemerges from his room in a fresh set of indoor clothes, a ribbed white long sleeve and gray sweatpant joggers. You’d seen him in this exact outfit many times, but suddenly the way his sweatpants sat against his lap made your mind wander, but you shake the filthy thoughts out of your head. When he finally sits down next to you, you can’t help but fret over him, grabbing his arm to inspect his complexion.

"You went missing, and now you return all beaten up…why do you always make me worry?” you reprimanded, pouting slightly, "You’re wounded aren't you? Does it hurt?” your fingers ghost over the bruises on his forearm, the veins there protruding slightly amongst the bulging muscles. Xavier only turns away, unwilling to meet your gaze, but still leaving his arm in your lap.

His refusal to answer only makes you more desperate for reassurance that he’s alright. You try to lift his shirt, but he uses his free hand to grip your wrist, stopping you. You don’t notice the way he blushes at your touch.

"It’s nothing, just some minor scrapes.” while the mere sound of his voice does wonders to soothe your swimming mind, it does nothing to quell the anxiety you have over his well being. Over where he’d been these last ten days. With not so much as a single text message to let you know he was okay, safe. That’s all you had wanted, to know he was safe.

“I think your definition of scrape and my definition differ greatly,” you mutter sulkily, trying to get him to meet your eyes. When he doesn’t, you take his face in your two hands, forcing him to level with you. His cheeks tinge a peachy red under your palms, his normally slow and controlled breath rapidly increasing at your touch.

"If your wounds aren’t treated they could get worse, get infected, and even become life-threatening,” you murmur, almost threatening him, unable to stop the worry from lacing into your words. You can tell he feels guilty, his eyes opting to stare at your shoulder instead of your eyes, “...This is nothing. I’m used to letting them heal without much thought.”

This does nothing to make you feel better, if anything it makes you feel worse, and you’re unwilling to relent, "The past is the past. This is the present.”

His eyes finally peer into your own, meeting your stubborn gaze. His deep blue orbs are intense, searching for something within your own. While his voice is deep, tired, undoubtedly exhausted, you can still sense the longing heat in them. He sighs, finally caving into your whims, "Alright. So, what do you want me to do?”

And so you find yourself in Xavier’s dimly lit living room, a first aid kit on your lap, and Xavier shirtless in front of you. You try to ignore the fact that he’s very much half naked in front of you, his joggers sitting dangerously low on his waist. So much so that you can definitely see the indentation of his obliques forming a tight ‘v’. It was enough to turn your brain into mush, but you fought those intrusive thoughts away so you could tend to his injuries.

Taking a deep breath to try and calm your raging nerves, you start, "Is there a spot that hurts the most? Or is really sensitive? I’ll try to be extra gentle when I apply the ointment.” your eyes linger on the way his collar bones frame the muscles on his chest, the skin there pure and untouched from the dark bruises forming on Xavier’s shoulder and abs. You bite your lip to withhold the shiver threatening to overtake you at the image of Xavier in all his muscular glory before you. His gentle voice brings you out of your filthy reverie.

"My neck.”

"Hmm?” your eyes snap to his, cheeks flaming when you realize he’d caught you staring. He smiles gently, but thankfully doesn’t tease you.

"The most sensitive part of my body is my neck,” he says again, his words almost threatening to make you unleash the shiver you were holding back. Refusing to let your mind wander more, you lean forward and begin carefully cleaning the wound that’s etched onto the muscles that connect his shoulders to his neck. While you wipe the cut with one hand, you use your other hand to rub comforting circles around the red skin surrounding it, hoping to ease the stinging.

Xavier groans, his voice husky and drawn out. You can’t help but wonder what that sound would feel like under a different circumstance, but repress those thoughts deep deep down.

"Does it hurt a lot?” you keep your eyes glued to the irritated skin, lightening the pressure at which you’re pressing down, not wanting him to feel any semblance of pain, ever.

"Kind of.” Xavier’s response is clouded in ambiguity, leaving you confused as to what he wants to say. Before you can press him further he speaks again, “I appreciate you looking after things while I was gone.”

You sigh at his persistent nonchalance, as if he hadn’t just up and disappeared and come back beaten and bruised. You knew him well enough to know he’s not planning on telling you what had happened to injure him like this or why he had to leave town in the first place.

Feeling childish, you decide two can play at that game, "You don’t need to thank me. Neighbors should always look out for each other.” you force down the inexplicable emotions stirring inside of you that threaten to spill into your voice, continuing to tend to the cuts on his neck.

He doesn’t respond and the room becomes suffocatingly quiet. Swapping the alcohol wipe for the ointment, you briefly peer up to find Xavier staring at you with his intense blue eyes. You stubbornly refuse to waver from his stare, but he remains silent.

"What? If you have something to say, say it,” you demand, a bit snappishly, unable to contain the hurt you felt at his repeated silence, both now but also on his days away.

Xavier remains gentle even at your abrasiveness, "You’re really close to me. All I can do is look at you.” despite yourself, you blush at his words, chest tightening. He keeps his eyes on yours and you can’t help but squirm under his emotion clouded blue eyes, though you couldn’t decipher exactly which emotion swam through them.

The silence envelopes the air once more as you refuse to speak. Xavier speaks up again, his voice low and almost sad, "Are you angry with me?”

Your heart cracks at the vulnerability in his voice, but you can’t seem to let go of your own peeved feelings, "Why would I be? We’re just acquaintances who happen to be neighbors.” you know you’re being unfair, but you can’t help but feel as if you deserve some kind of explanation. You cared about him, far more than he probably knew, and he just up and disappeared without a trace for ten days. And to top it all off, he came back looking like this.

"Are the other neighbors like us?” though his words are simple, you can’t help but wonder if Xavier is intending to say something else under the veil of those words.

No, you supposed to yourself, other neighbors probably did not feel the least bit in the way you felt for Xavier. Your hands tremble at the thoughts you can’t seem to push away, and you accidentally press a bit too deeply as you apply the ointment. Xavier winces, his eyes finally unfocussing from yours and his brows furrowed in discomfort.

Instantly you feel bad for being even the least bit annoyed with him. Your voice is much gentler now, almost apologetic, "Was I too rough? You're…does it hurt a lot?”

Xavier smiles reassuringly at you, so warm and gentle despite your attitude and the undeniable pain of his injuries, your stomach can’t help but flutter at him, "Sort of, but I’m alright.”

"That’s good,” is all you can sheepishly say as you find yourself lost in his expression.

"Maybe the pain is so intense that I can’t feel anything,” Xavier is smiling so you know he’s teasing you but you can’t help but feel incredibly guilty.

"Really? I didn’t mean to…”

The look he gives you is enough to shut you up. Though he doesn’t say anything, his facial expression makes you wonder what exactly is going on in his mind. Finally he speaks up, "It’s okay. I forgive you, and in exchange you’re not allowed to be angry at me anymore.”

“I told you that I wasn’t angry,” you sigh, "Stay still. I’m going to apply the bandage.” Xavier smiles and nods, straightening his posture obediently. You want to tease him, but instead diligently apply a bit of gauze to his neck and adhere it with some medical tape.

Satisfied with your handiwork, you smile smugly, "All done. Keep your wounds away from water and avoid eating spicy food for the next few days.” Xavier mumbles something unintelligible under his breath, and when you look at him his head is bowed down so low you can’t even see his eyes. Before you know it, he’s collapsing in your arms, completely passed out.

"X-Xavier?!” you catch him easily, but his unconscious weight holds you down. Xavier only murmurs groggily at your words. You can’t help but smile and rub his bare back adoringly. His skin is soft, and warm to the touch. You relish in the feel of his skin against yours and his presence enveloping you, having truly missed him so much.

"Poor baby,” you sigh, contemplating on how you’ll be able to carry him to his bed.

With great effort, you’re able to haul Xavier to his bedroom. As you bend down to lay him on his mattress, you trip over his feet. With his arms tangled in yours like a little koala holding on for dear like, you tumble onto the bed with him. You flop onto his mattress, and his arms tighten around you, locking you in place, tucked into his chest. You move to push him off you, but instead you accidentally graze his wrapped neck.

Xavier moans, still deep in sleep, and his lip pouts as he grips you even tighter. You sigh in defeat at how content he looks with his arms wrapped around you, with his bottom lip sticking out slightly. You can’t help but admire Xavier’s sleeping face, his long eyelashes tickling against your cheek. It’s not long before you find yourself being lulled to sleep by the warmth of his strong arms and the slow beating of his heart against yours.

–

You awaken to Xavier tucking you into his blanket, his movements gentle as to not wake you. Your breath hitches but you do your best to pretend to still be sleeping, unable to face him in this compromising situation. With any luck, Xavier would get out of bed and you could pretend to wake up when he wasn’t so intimidatingly close to you.

But instead of getting up, Xavier only lays back down beside you, nuzzling into your side. Your heart races at the affection, biting your lip to keep from making any noise. His body heat against your own threatens to unleash a shiver of satisfaction across your body, but you force it back so as to not alert him that you are in fact awake.

Xavier is so unbelievably close, you can feel his breath fanning against your exposed neck and his fingers stroking your palm. Unable to withstand the suffocating tension, you pretend to wake up, feigning a yawn as you flutter your eyes open. You come face to face with Xavier, his eyes, still groggy with sleep, analyzing your every movement. His gaze falls lower, seemingly watching your lips part with the steady inhale and exhale of your bated breath.

You squirm, trying to dissipate the tension, remembering to keep your voice groggy, "Are you still tired? It’s not morning anymore, so maybe we should start thinking about what to eat.”

"You’re resting on my arm. I can’t move. At all.” you jolt upwards, and Xavier retracts his arm, rubbing the tender muscles, no doubt they’d fallen asleep, up and down. You hid your blush underneath your hair, unsure of what to do next. You became hyper aware of the fact that you sat in Xavier’s bed, with him. And he was so very shirtless.

Luckily Xavier speaks so you don’t have to, “I saw your texts from yesterday saying you were having trouble falling asleep. Did you sleep well?”

"It was pretty good,” you answered earnestly, genuinely feeling more well rested than you had in weeks, but then your heart stuttered, "W-wait, you saw the message I deleted yesterday?!”

"Yeah, I did. But I’m pretty sure it was a small peek,” his gentle smile changes to one of a teasing grin, "Xavier, if you don’t respond, I’m going to eat all the strawberries. All of them.” he raises the octave in his voice to mock you. To say you’re mortified would be an extreme understatement.

Trying to deflect from the fact that he’d in fact seen your embarrassing late night texts, you counter, "But I didn’t. I saved you a small bowl!”

He continues, deadset on his mission to embarrass the hell out of you, his grin radiant enough to stop your heart. Which you might actually prefer to the sheer embarrassment of being called out like this, "The moment I think about you being somewhere else annoys me to the point where I can’t sleep at all.”

You feel like a deer caught in the headlights, utterly defensive, "Well, of course! You can’t just ask someone to look after your stuff and then ghost them. If that’s not being unreasonable then I don’t know what is!”

Xavier glances at you, his voice calm but his eyes holding inexplicable emotions that you cannot decipher, "Oh, and there's one text that I can't forget.” you hold your breath, already knowing which one it is. Undoubtedly the worst, most incriminating one of them all.

“I think I miss you.” groaning, you cover your eyes with your hands and fall back against the bed. Xavier laughs, propping up on his side to face you, his fingers brushing some stray strands of hair away from your cheek, hooking them behind your ear.

“...You saw every message!” you accused, peeking at him through the cracks of your fingers still covering your eyes. But didnt respond to any of them, you want to add, but hold yourself back.

His expression is that of pure innocence, “I was going to reply to them, but then I got caught up in something. And you deleted them a second later. I could only pretend that I didn’t see anything.” and then slowly, almost painfully, he adds, "Maybe those messages weren't meant for me.”

Despite your burning embarrassment, you couldn’t possibly let Xavier think those thoughts were for anyone but him. The flicker of dejection in his eyes is enough to have you spilling out the truth, “...Okay, I didn’t send them to the wrong person!” your cheeks burn and you’re sure you look just as red as one of the strawberries on the balcony. You prop up on your own side to face him, “I missed you. But that’s not the point!” your lips jut out to pout at him, feeling like an attention-seeking toddler that had gotten caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

Xavier, the relief and longing palpable in his eyes, reaches his free arm out to cup your cheek in his palm, "And I missed you too.” his voice is low, nothing more than a whisper, making your breath catch in your throat.

His thumb brushes across the corner of your lip, "Unbearably so.” his intimate touch literally rewires your brain, making you throw all inhibitions out the window. The tidal wave of emotions you’d had on a tight leash, floods through the dam. Unable to control yourself, you firmly push him down on the bed and straddle him, making sure to avoid any of the bruises on his abdomen.

"Why did you leave me?!” you whine, surprising Xavier and even yourself with your assertiveness. He rests his hands atop your thighs, as they cage him beneath you. His body is warm under your own, and you feel the heat manifesting in your gut at the intimate closeness of your bodies.

His surprised expression is quickly replaced with one of cool and calm, despite the fact that you were literally on top of him like he’d secretly imagined several times before, "Why are you so worried about me?”

“...When there are bad people and wanderers out there, of course I’ll be worried about you,” your voice softens at the very thought. The emotions coursing through you make your voice waver, no matter how hard you try to steel yourself.

Xavier smiles warmly at you, his hands wandering upwards to your waist and then to your lower back. You’re acutely aware of his hands on you and it causes your confidence to tremor, your stomach bubbling in anticipation at his touch.

"And yet, you’re way more dangerous than any wanderer could be,” his voice is throaty, tinged with need and desire and his eyes find your lips once more.

"This is different. I would never hurt you,” you counter, your hands resting against his broad chest. Confidence returning ever so slightly, you dust your fingers against his delicate skin. You come close to his nipples, but narrowly and intentionally miss them. Xavier’s hands on your back grip harder, not enough to hurt but enough to leave you breathless and wanting more. You can feel him squirm beneath you, eyes pleading with yours. For what, you’re unsure.

"Yes, but I don’t have the strength to resist you at the moment.” Xavier’s voice is nothing more than a whisper, has hands digging further into the sensitive skin of your lower back. You writhe on top of him, to which he lets out a faint moan, just barely audible in the crackling air around you.

Your voice is but a rasping murmur, as you throw caution to the wind, giving into all the inexplicable emotions your heart held for the man beneath you. At your mercy, "Then…don’t.”

At your words, Xavier pushes you down towards him with the hands he had on your back. You offer no resistance, fully letting him guide your face to his own. And like you’d day dreamed so many times before, Xavier takes your lips into his. Softly, reverently, but so hungrily.

Your fingers entangle in his pale locks, gripping gently as his lips mold perfectly against yours. You sigh into his mouth as your breaths merge together. You breathe him in, basking in his radiance, all around you. Xavier’s hands leave your back to hold the plush of your thighs, kneading softly but so possessively. Your thighs clench around his hard torso, and you can’t help but rock yourself into him until you are resting on his lap, on his crotch. His hands tighten on your thighs, the grip a clear message, a wordless command for you to behave.

His tongue caresses your lips, a silent request for entry. You obediently part them, allowing him access to every part of you. When his tongue ghosts against yours for the very first time, you moan so deep and pleadingly that you can feel Xavier’s smile against your lips. His hands wander up and down your back again mapping out all the ridges of your spine against your thin shirt.

You’d imagined kissing Xavier for the first time, many many times, but none of those silly little daydreams could amount to this. Your imagination paled in comparison to the real thing, so willing, pliant, and tender underneath you. Ready to do anything to serve you.

You finally pull away, gasping for air but only craving his breath against yours again, you can’t help but ask meekly, "Is this okay?”

You can see the answer in Xavier’s eyes, but he responds still, "More than okay. Is it okay for you?”

Breathlessly, you trail your thumb across his bottom lip and mirror his words, "More than okay.” you’re suddenly hit with the reminder of just how much Xavier had you worrying these past few days. Feeling mischievous, you stare down at him, face flushed pink and lips swollen with saliva. Your fingers trail down his cheek, careful not to touch his sensitive neck, and onto his chest, “I should teach you a lesson so you never make me worry like that again.”

Between his breathless pants, he’s intrigued, “...What do you want?” his hands flit to the waistband of your pants, playing with the material and letting his fingers brush against the skin of your waist. You hold back a tremble, and instead of answering him, you decide to just show him. Dragging your fingers across his muscular chest, you let your thumbs brush against his hardening nipples. Xavier’s sharp inhale is immediate and you feel him clench his hands against your hips. You lean your face down to trail a path of small kisses down his chest, over his bruises, all the way to his naval.

You can feel him trembling beneath your every touch as he grinds out, "Is this my punishment?” his hand reaches up to weave his fingers through your hair, collecting the pieces that fall to your eyes as you bend down to kiss his skin.

Grinning, you sit back up, taking his cheeks in between your fingers and squish. You can never help but to tease Xavier, his adorable reactions always leaving you wanting more. You release his face from your hold, only for him to mirror your actions right back at you. His fingers are delectably rough as they grip your chin.

“I can do that too. Like this.” his face is so full of amusement, making you want to retaliate further. So you let your hands wander back up his chest, slowly moving to wrap around his neck. You see Xavier’s eyes widen in surprise as your fingers delicately tickle the sides of his neck, feeling his pulse race beneath them. As your nails flicker across the sensitive skin of his neck, Xavier lets out a groan that sounds suspiciously like a whimper.

"Ahh, please,” he whines. You notice that his hands have slipped under your shirt now, but not venturing upwards, ever the gentleman.

You giggle at his vulnerability, "You’re injured and don’t know how to take care of yourself,” you hand ventures from Xavier’s neck to hold his face in between your fingers again, "You’re like a helpless animal about to be eaten.” your voice is a teasing coo, and you bend down slowly, torturously grinding your core along his crotch. He hisses again, fingers digging into your bare skin as if hoping to slow you down. But instead, you lean into the crook of where his neck meets his shoulder, on the side that’s uninjured, and press a barely there kiss into the skin. Even at the faintest touch along his neck, Xavier groans and presses his lower half harder into you. To stop your own moans, and maintain the upper hand, you bite into Xavier’s neck. He swears and his fingers crush into your sides, and you squeal into his neck but your lips stay latched.

His skin is so sweet between the gentle teasing of your teeth, his pheromones invading all your senses. As you suckle on the sensitive skin there, you continue to rock your lower half against him, pleasantly surprised at the feel of his bulging erection against you. Your filthy day dreams of him paled in comparison to the sheer girth of what sat beneath you now.

"You’re not worried about me – hah, retaliating?” but you ignore him, instead relishing in the sound of his pants in response to your touch. Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine Xavier would be this reactive.

He continues his delectable moans at your ear, "H-hah, fuck – w-wait. Love please,” your core clenches at the endearment and you detach yourself from Xavier’s neck, a flushed bruise starting to form where your lips previously sat. Xavier hardens further at your disheveled sight. Lips red, swollen, and shiny with saliva, cheeks flushed a beautiful shade of red, eyes hazy with lust. He was fighting from coming undone at the sight alone.

"Wh-what? Is this not okay?” you pause, worrying you had crossed a boundary, but you can’t help the gentle and uncontrollable tremors your core makes against his crotch, almost like the aftershock of an earthquake. He groans in response, his head falling back deeper into the pillow as his eyes clenched shut.

His big hands squeeze your thighs reassuringly, and his right palm reaches up to cup your cheek. You lean into his touch, savoring the feel of his warm and protective hand against your flushed cheek. He repeats his words from earlier, "It’s more than okay. You don’t know how long I’ve waited to have you like this.” his words are filled with a vast expanse of emotions, but one you can make out is indescribable and utter love. Like he’d been waiting an eternity for you to fall into place in his life.

His hands trails down to play with the buttons on your top, fingers grazing the exposed skin on your chest. You shiver as he says, "But I want — I need to savor this moment with you.”

In that moment you think about the way your heart has always throbbed at the thought of Xavier. You think you’ve loved him for a while, it always felt like your life was destined to intertwine with his, in unexplainable ways. You’d long given up on fate, especially after caleb and grandma. But looking at the azure eyed man beneath you, you couldn’t help but think that that very fate had brought you two here today. So when you intertwine your fingers with his hand that toys with unbuttoning your top and bring your joined palms up against your heart, you don’t hesitate to confess, "You have me, forever.”

At your declaration, the expression on Xavier’s face is a haze of inexplicable emotions. With the faintest sliver of hesitation and something that sounds an awful like sorrow he finally murmurs, "And you’ve had me, forever.”

Unable to withstand the intensity of his longing stare and the weight of his words, you dip back down to capture his lips with yours, returning his heavy words with an equally passionate kiss. Your hands move to stroke up and down his naked chest, before landing on his neck, using your thumb to feel the thrumming of his unusually erratic pulse. With your free hand you encourage his fingers that fiddle with the buttons of your blouse, urging him to undo the confines. You can tell Xavier is holding back, likely doing his best to tread the fine line between careful respect for you and losing all control.

Reluctantly, you withdraw from him, whispering through your gasps, "Xavier…please. I want this. I want you.”

His eyes are misted with lust and adoration, his body stiffening even further. His voice is as deep as you’ve ever heard it, "Are you sure Y/N? You have to be sure. I-I’m scared I won’t be able to stop.”

Softly, you use your fingers to trace over the hickey you’ve left behind on his neck. His breath catches and you can see the control slipping from his grasp. Slowly, you bring your fingers to unbutton your blouse yourself. Painfully slow, each finger taking its time to unlatch each enclosure, and you murmur, “I won’t want you to stop.”

His eyes are locked on you, as you slip the blouse off your shoulders, leaving you in your white satin bra. His jaw tightens at the sight of you and he grabs your thighs, "Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” and with those words, Xavier’s thick arms are lifting you into the air and throwing you gently underneath him. In a flash, his heavy body is on top of yours, your legs parted to accommodate his unbelievably built stature. You squeal in surprise at his dominance, the sound cutting through the thick sexual tension in the air. Xavier smiles down at you, the dangerous glint in his eyes making heat flare between your legs. The slick forming in between your folds is unmistakable and you bite your lip to keep the moans at bay.

"Am I still a helpless animal? Since you seem to know everything, you should enlighten me.” the deep purr in his voice edges on a primal growl, like a predator with its prey between its claws. It’s enough to have you submitting to his every whim. How quickly Xavier has turned the tables on you, his hand now gently pressed against your own neck, has rendered you a stuttering dripping mess.

"X-Xavier…”

But he silences you, placing his index finger over your lips, his other hand moving downwards to stroke the soft satin of your bra, his fingers flitting dangerously close to the skin of the swell of your breasts, "When faced with a hunter that knows my weakness and how to take advantage of them, is there anything I can do?” you’ve never heard Xavier so threateningly dominating, so demanding. It leaves you utterly speechless, your previous upper hand gone completely.

"Perhaps I should teach you a lesson.”

You shudder at his words. His hands reach under your back to unhook your bra and you arch off the bed to allow him to slip it off effortlessly. Fully exposed before him, Xavier’s eyes burn with such intense heat it intimidates you, so you instinctively cover your breasts. Xavier doesn’t speak, instead dipping his head down to trail delicate kisses along your arms, leaving a path of goosebumps in his wake. Your breath comes out in shallow pants as he gently pries your arms away, and presses an open mouthed kiss to the swell atop your right breast.

You shiver uncontrollably under his warm lips, needing more friction, "P-please Xavier.”

Xavier’s wide grin is uncontainable, "Look who’s the helpless animal now?” but despite his teasing, Xavier indulges your pleas, capturing your nipple in his warm and waiting mouth. You’re unable to stop the gasp that tumbles out of your lips, your body arching off the bed only to be met with Xavier’s heavy body pressing you back down. Xavier’s muffled moans against your sensitive skin send your eyes into the back of your skull. As the pleasure threatens to overtake your melting mind, you press your dampening crotch into his erection even further trying to gain more friction. He groans, deep and hoarse, making you peer down at your chest and at him. Your eyes meet.

The eye contact as he devours you is enough for your climax to start creeping in, your hand wedging between the two of you to grasp his cock through his sweatpants. Your hands are met with the alarming dampness of his pre cum seeping through the gray fabric that frames his bulging erection. You bite your lip at the sheer mass you hold in your hands, your fingers tracing just how thick he was.

Xavier’s tongue continues to flick along your nipple as your hand slowly makes its way under his waistband and under his boxer briefs. With his pubic hair tickling your palm, you brush your fingers against his thick erection. Your touch earns your breast a harsh nip which causes you to cry out. The pleasure and pain is so blinding you find yourself needing to grip onto his cock just to keep succumbing to your impending orgasm, rooting you to reality.

"H-hah, Y/N, please…ah, not so tight please,” Xavier’s voice is a desperate whine, as he pants against the swell of your breast. At his urging you release his manhood from your grip ever so slightly, but keep it trapped in your palm, your hand has a mind of its own, unable to stop from stroking his length up and down, brushing against the single bulging vein alongside it. He leaks so much pre cum that it feels like he’s already pumped his release all over himself. You collect it all, using it to fist his cock in your hands while he ravages your breasts.

"You’re, hah, making me ruin my pants love,” Xavier pants against you, descending upon your body until you’re forced to release him, much to your dismay. He slots his lips in the valley of your breasts, leaving a trail of wet kisses slowly down your body. When he reaches your belly button, his hands reach to remove your pants and panties in one fell swoop. The cold air nips at your exposed core, as Xavier removes the tangle of clothing from your limbs

Completely exposed before him, Xavier rakes his eyes all over your bare body, admiring every inch of you and breathes out a single word, "Beautiful.” you blush under his gaze and you clasp your thighs tight in an attempt to hide but Xavier keeps your legs open, his grip tight on your knees. With his eyes locked on yours, he guides your calves onto his shoulders, careful to avoid his bandages. You feel nervous as he comes face to face with your undoubtedly soaking cunt, and to your utter embarrassment he notices it too.

"You’re so wet already. Is this all for me?” while his words are teasing, his tone is earnest, almost in awe.

"W-wait Xavier, you’re injured. I don’t want you to strain yourself. L-let me–”

His eyebrows arch at you, "You said I should stay away from spicy foods, you never said anything about this. Let me enjoy myself.” without letting you protest any further, he lowers his face onto your waiting cunt, his mouth unbelievably warm against your own burning core. You cry out, your back arching to the point it feels as if it may snap. With your legs on Xavier’s shoulders, your lower half is elevated nearly a foot off the bed, his hands on your thighs supporting your entire body.

Xavier’s tongue is fervent and attentive. He explores every inch of you, mapping out which areas make you sing with the most pleasure. His tongue alternates between dipping in and out of your entrance and caressing your clit while his hands move to prop you up by your ass. As he feasts on you, his hands knead the fat of your rear.

"X-Xavier please. So so s’good,” you wail, hands digging deep into his comforter, wishing your hands could reach his hair, his face, anything. Your clit feels like it might explode in pure ecstasy under Xavier’s tongue, making you unable to control your mouth. Your words make him harden impossibly more, still restrained in his soaked sweatpants. He groans into your core, the vibrations intensifying your pleasure. You can feel your orgasm racing towards you, which makes your thighs tremble around his face. Suddenly, he stops and lifts his head. You whine at the loss of his tongue and the disruption of your climax, almost collapsing into the bed if it wasn’t for his strong arms supporting you.

"Can I put a finger in?” his eyes are pleading, as if he’s worried you might deny him.

Your head bobs eagerly, and you have to hold yourself back from telling him he can literally do whatever he pleases with you, "God, yes. Just don’t stop, please.”

"You’re so adorable when you beg for me,” he grins as his lips find your clit once more as he eases not one but two fingers into your waiting hole. Your moans fill the room at being so suddenly and pleasantly filled to the brim, your eyes rolling into your brain. Xavier’s pace leaves nothing to be desired, his movement producing absolutely filthy noises to mix with the sounds of your moans. You can feel him scissoring his fingers in and out, stretching you out against his soaking hands.

"You’re so tight even around just my fingers…” he trails off in wonder, pondering how he’d possibly fit himself inside you, if you’d allow him.

"M’s-sorry,” you pant against his ministrations stretching you to the fullest you’ve ever felt, "Xavier, th-think I might cum soon.”

Your words fuel him further, the squelching sounds music to his ears. The pleasure is endless and you’re starting to see white. Without stopping his fingers, he murmurs against your clit, "Please give it to me. Cum for me, love. I need it.”

Combined with his expert fingers weaving in and out of you, his demand sends your hurtling through your orgasm. Your thighs threaten to crush his skull as they tremble uncontrollably on his shoulders. You release all over his face, his mouth still latched onto you, gushing into his waiting mouth as you chant his name like a prayer. He replaces his fingers with his tongue, giving your aching clit a much needed break while still working you through your fierce orgasm. You softly scream in response to this warm tongue inside of you, shuddering through the final waves of your orgasm while Xavier laps up all of your release, not letting even a single drop be wasted.

As your body heaves, Xavier removes himself from your thighs, softly setting you down against the bed. He murmurs, "You taste so good. Better than I ever imagined.”

His words fuel you with confidence, and you feel the irresistible urge to return all the pleasure Xavier just gave you. Your thighs are absolute jelly, but you crawl to your knees to face him. Taking his face into your hands, you lean in so your lips are millimeters apart and whisper, "My turn please.”

Xavier’s eyes smolder, and he lets himself be pushed down backwards onto the bed, with you slotting between his thighs like he’d done to you. Feeling confident from the aftermath of your orgasm, you lean down and kiss his bulge through his soaked sweatpants. He hisses, as his hands cup the back of his head on the pillow. His reactions only serve to embolden you further, and you lick a strip down his pants, relishing in the salty taste of his pre cum on your tongue. Unable to wait further, you pull his joggers and undergarments down together, and his cock springs free. Your confidence wavers as you’re met with Xavier in all his glory. He was unbelievably thick, and the vein you’d felt earlier bulged deliciously against the pale pink skin. You unconsciously lick your lips at the challenge before you, taking him into both your hands and sinking down to lap up the pearly white beads that had formed on his tip, threatening to spill over.

Xavier lets out a guttural groan, his hands leaving his head to thread through your hair. He whines as you take his tip into your mouth, gripping your hair gently. The salty, yet surprisingly sweet, taste invades your mouth as you struggle to accommodate his girth in between your lips. Determined to please him, you bob down deeper as your tongue lathers the sides of his cock attentively.

"H-hah shit.” Xavier is a grunting mess beneath you, "My – ahh – beautiful girl. You’re doing so, fuck, s’good.” he hits the back of your throat, tears streaming down your face. You bob slowly, your jaw aching already as you do your best to take him. With your hands you stroke the parts of him that aren’t in your mouth.

Xavier’s hands in your hair are slowly guiding your head up and down, encouraging you take him a bit faster. You gag against him, his moans letting you know how much he enjoys your throat closing around his length. While his thickness threatens to split your jaw, you can’t help but enjoy how he feels inside your mouth, an endless dribble of pre cum your reward for taking him so well. After a few minutes of this, Xavier’s hands tighten in your hair.

"S-stop.” you peer up at him through your wet eyelashes. Hes propped up on his elbows now, staring at you with an intensity that excites you to your core.

“I…I need to be inside you. Is that okay?” he asks, but it feels more like a command. More than willing to indulge him, you lick the stray beads of pre cum that had found their way onto your lips, and you get on your knees so you can seat yourself on top of him. Using your soaked slit, you grind on his saliva and pre cum slicked erection, whimpering while it catches on your clit, still sensitive from his tongue.

Xavier massages your thighs soothingly, his smile is as radiant as ever, "Don’t worry love. Take your time. I’m yours to use however you’d like.” his words fuel your pulsating cunt, and you continue to grind on him, letting his tip ghost along your entrance, but not allowing him in. Your teasing drives him to the edge of madness and you love seeing his undoing all over his facial expression. The friction combined with his reactions to you are enough to have your second orgasm building in your stomach. The mixture of your arousals lets him glide so easily in and out of your thighs between your leaking slit.

You’ve definitely never tried this before, but the anticipation of using just your pussy lips to pleasure the both of you is so exciting. The sounds of your combined slick so lewd against both your bodies. His cock so close to just entering your waiting hole and devouring you whole. It’s all enough to have you cumming again right then and there, but you know the next time you finish you need it to be with him stuffed deep inside you.

"So big Xavier…don’t know if it’ll fit..” you whine, not daring to halt your movements across his cock.

"It will baby, I’ll make sure it fits.” you shiver at his words and finally, you allow yourself to sink down onto him. You wail at the impossible stretch, much more than his two fingers. Honestly you’d wished he would’ve used four fingers as that might’ve prepped you better, more accurate to what was stuffed inside you now.

Your thighs tremble as you’re able to take his head fully in. The stretch is uncomfortable, but you’re wet enough where there’s as little resistance as physically possible. Xavier throws his head back and pants out words of encouragement, hands kneading into your thighs.

"Y’you’re so fucking tight it feels like you’re trying to snap it off,” he grits, eyes glued to where your body connects with his. You lower yourself steadily, and you finally seat yourself fully, his cock pulsing excitedly inside you. You gasp for air taking a second to situate yourself before you can even think of moving again. Xavier is no better under you, sweat forming on his forehead from the pleasure alone, his chest heaving up and down rhythmically.

"M’gonna move now, ‘kay?” you warn him breathlessly, surprised your brain is even able to still form words.

Xavier is equally fucked out, begging shamelessly, "Please. Need to feel you.” though Xavier is the one pleading underneath you, you’re not a fool. Ever the wolf in sheep’s clothing, you know he is the one in control of the situation, even if you’re the one setting the pace on top of him.

His pleas are enough to get your thighs moving, rocking up and down, back and forth. You squeeze your eyes shut, falling forward so your clit can catch on the thick muscles alove his pubic bone. Xavier’s hands on your thighs inch up to your waist to better guide you along as your pelvis rhythmically gyrates back and forth to better feel him against your clit and inside you.

"Hah, I’ve always loved it when you take control on missions. So pretty – shit – f’me, using my cock like this,” Xavier pants, holding onto your body for dear life.

The pleasure of his words swims straight to your head, and you can feel your brain turning to mush as you use Xavier’s cock to pleasure yourself in ways you’d never dreamed of feeling. You can vaguely hear his endless grunts and whines of encouragement as your heart pounds in your ears. The earth shattering orgasm creeping up on you builds monumentally, much more intense than the one that’d already ravaged your body.

Xavier’s breathy cries snap you back into the present, "Sh-shit slow down. If you don’t–hah– slow down m’gonna–” he cuts himself off, swearing as he feels you tighten even further around him. As if needing something to hold onto to steel himself, he uses one hand to grasp your breast, squeezing forcefully. You yelp at the painful ecstasy, your steady pace faltering and giving both of you a second to slow down your impending orgasms.

Not giving him too much time to recover, you begin rocking again, slowly, torturously, and passionately, unable to stop yourself from chasing the pleasure only he can give you. Your hand is planted on his abs to steady yourself. Xavier’s eyes lock onto your joined crotches, mesmerized by the motions you make that are akin to the ocean waves pulling in and out of the beach. You pulsate around him wildly and he throbs inside you rhythmically, your bodies meshing perfectly.

As your head is thrown back, your eyes once again inching into your skull, Xavier thumbs at your clit. You squeal and contract at the waves of pleasure he induces onto your body with a single touch.

Xavier swears inexplicably at your vice grip on his length, knowing your body is pushing him rapidly towards his finish. Your slow and intentional bounces have him seeing stars, but he needs more. Keeping his thumb steadily drawing circles in your aching bundle of nerves, he uses his other hand to grip your waist and guide you along, faster and harder.

His eyes admire your naked beauty on top of him, he pants out, "S’perfect, Y/N. You’re beautiful you know that?”

At his words, you’re a faltering moaning mess as the rhythm Xavier sets has his tip hitting deep in your gummy walls, stroking your sweetest spots at every thrust. At this point Xavier’s hand does much of the work, your thighs threatening to give out as the only thing your brain can focus on is the pure pleasure of his cock reaching the most sensitive spots right before your cervix.

You’re reaching a point of no return, unable to stop your babbling mess, "X-Xavier you’re s’deep, s’big. Splitting me open.” you can feel the mixture of slick against the underside of your thighs, smearing against his pelvis as your bodies slap against each other.

"Baby you’re making such a mess…hah..Fuck is this all for me?”

You whine at his words, "S’all for you Xavier..M’all yours.” thighs still burning as you do your best to bounce on him, you grip your breasts with your hands as Xavier uses you like a toy. He seems to know exactly where your g spot is, and he hits it every single time, almost as if he knows your body far better than even you. You’re coming impossibly close to your climax, but you can’t fathom this moment between you two ending.

"Come here,” Xavier whispers desperately, "Let me taste you.” with his hands still shoved between your bodies, playing with your clit, you bend down towards him and let him take your lips into his once more. His soft lips are urgent as they take you, and you can almost feel a lifetime of emotions Xavier has kept from you. You respond with the same desperation, wanting to show him how much he has invaded your very being. Your body, your mind, your heart and soul. It all felt hopelessly intertwined with Xavier, and you couldn’t fight it. You didn’t want to fight it.

His tongue, cock, and fingers ravage you in perfect unison. The blinding tension in your gut threatens to boil over, and you try to warn him, "X-xav, can’t take much more.”

"You’re doing so good for me, Y/N. I can–f-fuck–feel how close you are. Please, cum for me,” he pants, his breath mingling with yours. Doing your best to maintain your rhythm amidst the climax that descends upon you like a tsunami, you sink your lips into Xavier’s neck, careful to avoid his cuts. The moan that he responds with is a deep guttural warning. That he’s as close to coming undone as you are.

With renewed vigor you bounce atop Xavier, absolutely needing to hear him fall apart for you. You spear yourself onto his ever hardening and throbbing erection as his thumb on your clit sends you into oblivion. The bone crushing orgasm descends upon you, and you bite down on Xavier’s pulsing neck. You let out a string of incoherent babbles right by his ear, and he eats up every single cry you make for him. The tsunami consumes you, manifesting in uncontrollable waves of tremors around Xavier’s leaking cock inside you. Wailing through your orgasm, right into his ear, Xavier takes you into his arms completely and bounces you violently on top of him, desperately chasing his own release.

"Fffuck, you’re milking me Y/N,” Xavier groans through gritted teeth, "Makin’ a mess all over my bed.”

You alternate between nibbles and soothing licks against his neck, feeling how he swelled inside you at his sensitive neck being ravaged. You could tell Xavier was impossibly close, feeling his heartbeat throb in his cock as he speared your overstimulated core onto him with every ounce of fleeting energy he had left.

Exhausted and completely fucked out, you murmur into his ear, "Xavier, please. I-inside. Make me yours.” you plant a gentle wet kiss on the deep red bruise you’d etched into his neck. It resembles the strawberries you’d grown together on the balcony.

Xavier’s deep and incomprehensible swears ensue, "You’re mine. Say it Y/N, please.” his thrusts are erratic now, losing himself to the pleasure of your body perfectly wrapped around him.

You squeeze your eyes shut, suckling gently on the hickies you’ve littered across his pale neck, "M’yours Xavier, now and always.”

Your words send him toppling over the edge, letting out a strangled groan as you feel him release deep inside your cunt, pumping his release as deep as it will go. It’s unbelievably soothing, the warm milky seed relieving some of the ache in your throbbing hole from his intense ravishing.

Despite the overstimulation, Xavier continues to thrust lazily in and out of you, wanting to keep every drop of his spend sealed inside you, as deep as it will possibly go. It makes him wince, but he can’t bear the thought of any of it being wasted when it belongs inside you. But you tap his pecs pointedly, still laying completely naked and soaked on top of him, and whine, "S’too sensitive Xavier.”

He chuckles and brings your face to his, this time pressing a slow and sensual kiss to your lips. You close your eyes, enjoying the feel of his soft lips against yours, your bodies connected in more places than one. With your head still on his broad and muscular chest, you relish in the slowing and soft thumps of his calming heartbeat, absolutely content and blissed out. Xavier strokes your hair with one hand, his fingers massaging your scalp, and his other hand rests tightly on the small of your back. As if he’s scared you might disappear at any moment.

Inevitably, his softening member threatens to slip out, but you’re much to fucked out to be able to move a single muscle. Xavier shuffles gently, and you feel him lifting your body off of him and onto the space beside him. He moves again to shift off the bed, presumably to grab a washcloth to wipe you off, but you clutch his bicep and bury your face into his muscular side.

"Please don’t go,” you whisper. He looks hesitant, wanting to clean you up and take care of you like you deserve.

“I can’t fall asleep counting stars. I need them to stay by my side,” you mumble sleepily, not even caring that the mixture of your collective release dripped down your rear and onto the bed beneath you. When he doesn’t respond, you peer up at him, and find yourself in awe of the man before you.

While his face is utterly exhausted, the sleep in his eyes clouding his azure blues, he almost glows. Because of his evol, Xavier is always incandescent, but this is different. Its almost as if his sweat slicked skin illuminates in the soft rays of fading daylight that spill into his bedroom. He catches your stare and he smiles so brilliantly at you that you feel like you’re in the presence of the sun itself. Like he’s an angel sent from the heavens to derail your entire life.

He relaxes back down beside you, covering the two of you with his thick comforter. Fixating on the sounds of your soft breathing, Xavier softly tucks you into his side, with his arm around the back of your shoulders. Finally, he speaks gently and so heartbreakingly apologetically, “I’m sorry. I should've responded to your messages.”

"Honestly, I’m not that upset,” you sigh into his warm chest muscles that feel better than any pillow ever could. Propping onto your side to face him, worry laces into your voice, "But Xavier, you fell asleep after getting injured. Aren’t you still tired?”

His voice is thick with sleep, deep and comforting to your ears, "Yeah.”

"Will a good night’s sleep fix everything?”

With his fingers tracing patterns into your naked back, Xavier’s pensive for a brief moment. His answer is thoughtful and earnest, "Only if you stay and sleep next to me.”

The butterflies that erupt in your stomach bloom into your chest and you're incapable of keeping your voice steady while you continue your line of questioning, "Is that why you always say everything’s fine and don’t tell me when you’ve been gravely wounded?”

He hesitates as you stare at him, his arm still wrapped protectively over you.

Seconds tick by, “I’m leaving if you don’t answer.” you even make a show of trying to get up, knowing damn well you’re not going anywhere. Xavier’s grip on you tightens, quite possessively.

“I promise it won’t ever happen again,” his eyes convey so much more than his words as he stares into your very being. The ardor in his blue eyes overwhelms you with emotions that sting your eyes.

"Will there ever be a day when you fall asleep and never wake up?” the question comes tumbling out of your lips before you can even stop it. There’s really no reason for you to even fathom that this could happen, but something inside you demands an answer from the silver haired man wrapped around you.

Xavier is silent for an agonizing moment, but takes your hand into his, placing a warm kiss onto it. You shiver at the feel of his lips against your hand. It feels like much more than just a fleeting kiss, but a promise, "If such a thing ever happens, you – and only you – must remember to wake me up.”

You fall back into the crook of where his chest connects with his arm, satisfied with his response, for now. With your hand still in his, you nuzzle into him, doing your best to avoid the trail of injuries that still stained his beautiful glowing skin.

And it felt so good, so right to be held by Xavier like this. Xavier wondered how it could be that you fit so perfectly into his arms, into his life. You both knew there was a heavy conversation to be had, about where this left the two of you. As friends, as hunting partners, but especially as two people whose fates were so indescribably interwoven with each other. You both decided you’d save that for later, opting to savor the perfect bliss of this moment.

Xavier’s unable to keep his hands off you, innocently grazing against every inch of skin he can. His fingers trace unintelligible patterns on your back and his right hand rubs soothingly up and down between your thigh and your hips. His comforting touch feels so inexplicably right, like two stars written in the night sky. Xavier was your shooting star, after all.

Just before sleep consumes you, you feel out for him, "Xavier?” you’re unsure if he’s still awake as you await his response.

"Yes love?” from his voice you can tell he is on the cusp of dozing off, still with his hands all over you. Your heart flutters at his words.

"You better not ever scare me like that again,” your voice, thick with exhaustion, is anything but threatening as you kiss the skin of his chest muscles.

His languid chuckle is deeper than usual, his stroking halts as he grips your thigh tight, drawing you closer to him and pressing an adoring kiss to your forehead, "If this is my punishment, then I can’t make any promises.”

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azulpitlane · 4 months

Text

vicious pt two I ln4

pairing: ex!lando norris x reader, charles leclerc x reader summary: you are trying to move on from lando but he refuses to notes: more dramaaa and asshole lando sorry, this is short cause i kind of got busy🧍‍♀️ part one, masterlist

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, maxfewtrell and 3,268,379 others

yourusername emails i cant send is officially yours💌

it has been a long and emotional process writing this album but i loved and enjoyed every bit of it<3 im so excited to share this piece of my life with you and officially close this chapter and move on

thank you for the support, ill see you all soon❤️

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user OMGG IM ALREADY CRYING ITS SO AMAZING

user stfu is that charles in the fifth pic?!?

user it is!! he was credited in a few songs for instruments🥹🥹

user because i liked a boy hits so different when u know what she went through :(

maxfewtrell running on stream to listen to it

yourusername pls dont hate im still sensitive user omg noo i cant watch whats he saying about it?? user he loves every song, hes being so supportive and said hes team y/n😭

user her friendship with charles is so cute omg

user “friendship” rightttt😏

user lost lando but got charles, a win is a win

francisca.cgomes love love love💌

user omg i know charles introduced them

user ‘ill see you soon’ ARE YOU TOURING???

pietra.pilao so incredibly proud of you❤️ such an amazing album

yourusername p ily and miss u sm🥹❤️ pietra.pilao i miss you more we need to get together soon! yourusername otw to text u so make plans rn🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

user the fact that landos friends are still supportive despite the breakup tells me everything i need to know

user “officially close this chapter” new era fr🫶

charles_leclerc so honored you even asked me to be apart of this❤️so proud of you ma cherie

yourusername so grateful for you❤️ user JUST DATEEEE user now kiss!!!

Lando so you and y/n huh?

Charles she's my friend is that a problem?

Lando i dont remember ever introducing you two?

Charles not that its any of your concern but i introduced myself last year on the paddock while you were too busy ignoring her

Lando so when i had back turned, you took the chance to steal my girlfriend?

Charles dont try turning this into something its not she's trying to move on so i think its time you do the same lando dont ask about her again. read

f1gossip

463,582 likes

f1gossip Following Y/n Y/l/n's album release, Lando and Charles have unfollowed each other on instagram! It is not confirmed if Y/n is the reason why, but it is heavily speculated. It seems Lando was the first to unfollow and Charles quickly followed suit.

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user all too much for little lando norris

user y/n breaking up a friendship now🙄

user she didnt do anything except release an album on how she felt, if lando gets offended by that then hes clearly the problem here

user 16 4 fans lost today but then again lando started it🤷‍♀️

user karma works in funny ways @landonorris

user lando has every right to be mad imo

user not at all, he treated her like shit then cheated and now hes mad she has friends in f1? make it make sense

user why watch soap operas when you can watch f1

user 2024 season is gonna HIT

user charles is going to have the motivation for wdc now, ferrari fans won🙏

user even though im a lando fan, i have to be team charles and y/n on this one sorry

user yup, after listening to her album i definitely support y/n

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomes and 3,295,204 others

yourusername first time performing my new album at my one night show was the best time ever!! thank you for all that showed up you were an amazing crowd❤️

and just in case you missed my little announcement, bet u wanna is my next single of this album...this one's a little funny when you know the context🙊

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user wish i was able to go :(

user WHATS THE CONTEXT??

user listen to the lyrics, lando definetly wanted her back after his side girl cheated AHAH

user i need to know if charles was there

francisca.cgomes such a wonderful night💌 liked by yourusername

user your stage presence is so amazing

luisinhaoliveira99 so great seeing you🤍 liked by yourusername

user SHE WAS THERE?!? user pls tell me you guys took pictures together

user bet u wanna is so good omg

user are you opening for eras tour in europe

user it is rumored, i hope its true😭

f1gossip

376,845 likes

f1gossip Charles, Pierre, Kika and Luisa leaving Y/n Y/l/n's concert in LA tonight! Thoughts on the singer's new friendship with the drivers and girls?

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user i love them😭❤️

user i was there and saw charles with pierre and kika singing along to every song🥹

user SHUT UPPPP user stop theyre so cute

user luisa and y/n mean everything to me

user them supporting y/n despite the drama with lando shows a lot about him

user ive never wanted to part of a gc so bad

user charles is so supportive, yk who wouldnt be....

user i need them to date, he would treat y/n so good

scuderiaferrari

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername and 1,402,440 others

scuderiaferrari Special guest for the first qualification of the season! Thanks for coming to the our garage❤️

tagged yourusername

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user OMFGGG

user i need pics of her and charles NOW

user charles got p1 cause bae was watching🙈

user is she staying all weekend!?!

user her and charles supporting each other omg

user are they finally dating??

user he was asked about it in an interview and he said they were just friends! user ugh can charles make a move already? i dont want another lando situation..

user i wonder if she bumped into lando😳

Lando was y/n really in ferrari garage?

Carlos yeah... are you okay mate?

Lando how can i be? he stole my girlfriend and is now parading her around the paddock its fucked up

Carlos he did say they were just friends and i didnt see them acting like a couple or anything

Lando there's gotta be something more i just need y/n to see who he really is

Carlos i dont know, maybe its time you move on mate

Lando no, i cant give up now do you have an extra paddock pass?

Carlos why...

Lando remember charles' crazy ex girlfriend who was obsessed with him? i heard shes in town to see him what if we send her the paddock pass so she can show y/n how charles treated her

Carlos this seems a little crazy lando why dont you just talk to y/n?

Lando she wont even let me get near her just please carlos? and then i wont ever bring it up again if it doesnt work

Carlos fine but dont tell anybody about this

Lando thank you mate, i owe you

tags: @iamahallucinationnn, @sofiacblair

#lando norris #f1 x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris smau #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #ln4 #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you

2K notes · View notes

awearywritersworld · 6 months

Text

i was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend

sukuna x reader summary: you persuade sukuna to play go fish. the two of you have a small disagreement (he really can't stay mad at you). he confides in you about his past as a sorcerer. w/c: 3.4k tags/warnings: the teeniest bit of angst. mostly fluff. banter. cursing. aged up!yuuji. slight yuuji x reader. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. no manga spoilers. a/n: the first section could be read as a brief(ish) stand alone. and for context, the world's shortest frankenstein synopsis: victor frankenstein brings a creature to life using dead body parts and thrusts him into a world he doesn't understand, then promptly abandons him and wishes him dead. alone and regarded as repulsive by every human he comes across, the creature begs frankenstein to create a wife for him too. when frankenstein refuses, the creature is further driven to hatred and violence. series masterlist // masterlist

"we should play a card game!" you exclaim as if you've just had the world's greatest idea.

"i'll pass."

sukuna sounds listless, like it's quite possibly the worst proposition he's ever heard.

"why's that? scared i'll beat you?"

"i'm opposed to mind numbing boredom, more like."

"you really need to expand your horizons," you suggest, making your way over to where you keep your playing cards. "all you do is read and brood."

"it's gotten me this far."

you don't respond, too busy rifling through your bookshelf. just as you spot your cards, a book catches your eye and you pull it from its place.

making your way back over to him, you drop it in his lap. "since you found jane eyre so insufferable, here's one you might actually like."

he surveys the cover, which reads: frankenstein or the modern prometheus

you take a seat across from him at the kotatsu table and shuffle the deck, while sukuna flips through the pages with new found intrigue.

"what's it about?"

"the dangers of playing god. should be right up your alley."

"your subtly never ceases to amaze."

"i'm just kidding." you laugh. "there's a lot more to it than that— revenge, loneliness, personal responsibility..."

he turns the book over. "it's written by a woman?"

you raise your eyebrows at him. "what, you don't think women have enough depth to write about those kinds of topics?"

"no, it was just an observation," he says off handedly. "you are evidence enough to the contrary."

he doesn't say it as a compliment, more so as a statement of fact. you hope your astonishment isn't written all over your face.

clearing your throat, you begin dealing while explaining the rules to him.

he takes up his cards and seems to understand the game after only a turn or two, but you're narrowing your eyes at him soon thereafter.

"go fish," he says for the fourth time in a row.

your gaze shifts down to his hands. there's just no way. "show me your cards."

"wouldn't that defeat the purpose of this stupid game?"

"not if you're cheating, now let me see."

"no."

you reach across the table, hoping to snatch them from his grasp, but he just holds them out of your reach.

swiftly rising to your feet, you launch yourself at him in a sad attempt to catch him off guard.

with only one arm extended, he easily fends off your attack. "do you actually think you have a chance here?"

you sink to your knees in defeat and sit with your legs folded beneath you. "not really, but i have to know if you'd stoop this low."

"that so? had you believed me to be above cheating?"

you gasp. "so you admit it?"

"i told you i didn't want to play," he deadpans.

"that doesn't mean you had to cheat! now we have to start over!"

he carelessly tosses the cards onto the table. "i don't think so."

"please?" you lean forward, jutting out your bottom lip.

he just stares at you with an air of disinterest.

sukuna can be so haughty sometimes, and frankly, it drives you a little crazy. you'd give anything to wipe that look from his face— to prove that he doesn't find this as miserable as he lets on.

leaning forward even further, your hands meet with the carpet to support your shifting weight. now he's watching intently as your face approaches his, your eyes flicking down to his lips.

unbeknownst to you, sukuna's breath catches in his throat once he sees your gaze shift, though his mind struggles to catch up. it happens so fast that he hardly registers the quick peck you place on his lips (though maybe it's not the speed of the occurrence, so much as his shock).

"please?" you repeat.

he looks off to the side and stays silent, though his demeanor is indicative of some heated internal debate.

sukuna can't let you win, not that easily. you'd be under the impression that you actually have power over him! and for what? some measly kiss?

no, he simply will not allow that. "i already told you—"

grabbing him by the chin, you cut off his words with another kiss, but this time it lasts a few beats longer. your lips don't move against his, they just linger there in a way that that makes him question whether all of the oxygen has vanished from the room.

when you pull away, you're looking at him expectantly with the same pout still playing on your lips.

"fine!" he barks, grumbling something afterwards that sounds a lot like "evil little minx."

"human earthworm two is definitely still the best."

you're walking home with yuuji after a late night showing of the newest movie in the series.

"no way," you contend. "this one was even better."

he gawks at you. "in no world is the seventh film in an anthology the best! you're crazy—"

sukuna's mouth appears, always eager for a chance to undermine his vessel. "she's right, brat."

yuuji can't believe his ears. "what?! you haven't even seen it!"

"i don't know," you interject slyly. "i'm willing to look past that. it really seems like he knows what he's talking about."

"you mean the guy who's existence predates cinema?" yuuji asks, his eyebrows furrowing as a thought occurs to him. "what'd you do all day anyway? watch plays?"

"..among other things, yes." sukuna answers.

"if you look at it logically," you reason, "we probably wouldn't have movies without theater, so we should definitely consider him an expert in this case."

"oh please, baby. when the topic is ancient civilization or being a homicidal maniac, i'll be sure to solicit his opinion then."

"i resent that," sukuna declares, his conviction forcing a giggle from your lips.

"why?" you question. "was it the part where he called you old as shit, or the part where he called you a murderous lunatic?"

yuuji brings a hand to his mouth to stifle a snort, but you're freely laughing now.

sukuna scoffs indignantly and bites back a comment about how partial you seem to be toward said lunatic. "and to think i defended your opinion."

his response has you clutching at your sides and struggling to see through teary eyes.

but perhaps karma is real, because not a moment later, you step off the curb in a way that sends a sharp sensation through your leg.

you gasp in pain and brace yourself for the impact of falling to the concrete, but it never comes. instead, you're left with fingers clamped tightly around your wrist and a strange sense of deja vu.

you turn your head just before the dark lines fade from yuuji's arm completely.

"tch, watch where you're going idiot," sukuna scolds, his mouth disappearing as soon as he finishes speaking.

"are you okay?" yuuji asks worriedly.

"absolutely," you claim, but when you try to put weight on your left foot, you let out a hiss.

yuuji's hands find your waist, hoping to keep you steady. before you know it, he's crouching in front of you with his back turned and beckoning you to wrap your arms around his neck.

once you do, he hooks his arms under your thighs and easily stands up. "this okay? you comfy?"

"yeah. i can't believe i just did that." you hide your face in the space where his neck meets his shoulder. "thanks, yu."

when you get home, yuuji sets you up on the couch with icepacks, heating pads, three different drinks, two different books, and the tv remote.

he still asks if you have everything you need several times, then kisses you sweetly before heading to bed.

around thirty minutes later, sukuna's leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed.

"hey," you greet. your eyes never leave the tv, as you're privy to the slight tension between the both of you.

he skips the evening's pleasantries. "i could heal it, you know."

you finally turn to face him. "really?"

"of course." he rolls his eyes. "some of us can actually use reverse cursed technique."

"and you've just let me hobble around the past hour anyway?"

he shrugs. "you pissed me off."

you blink at him a few times, rubbing at your temples. "well what about now?"

"i don't know," he begins, making his way over to you. he towers over where you're seated on the couch, so you have to crane your neck to look up at him. "just doesn't really seem like something a homicidal maniac would do, but maybe if he were to receive an apology..."

you cover your face with your hands and groan. "i didn't say that. this is really something you should take up with yuuji—"

"i don't make a habit of conversing with the brat, so if that's the way you're going to be..." he turns on his heel and starts for the bedroom, but you grab onto his sleeve just before he's out of reach.

"wait. please don't go."

just like that, your words have his resolve crumbling and any of his lingering irritation ebbs away. he urges himself to stay strong though, especially after the go fish debacle.

when he doesn't speak, you let out a breath.

"i'm sorry, sukuna." he can tell right away that you're being entirely sincere. "i would never purposefully hurt your feelings. i only meant to tease you, but i can see how i was being mean."

are those... are those tears swimming in your eyes? are you in that much pain, or did he just make you feel that badly? in any case, he endeavors to remedy it immediately.

moving around the couch until he's in front of you, sukuna kneels between your legs. he grabs your left foot gingerly, situating it on his thigh before hovering his hand over top of it.

he sighs. "i don't care if you tease me and you weren't being.. mean." the words sounds so juvenile to him.

you weren't necessarily wrong either, goes unsaid.

well, he'd like to consider himself a little more sophisticated than 'maniac' would imply, but that's beside the point.

"then why are you upset with me?"

his jaw flexes as he tries to find the right words. "i would prefer you do that when it's just.. us."

"oh." realization dawns on you, as does another heap of guilt. you know he despises being trapped in yuuji's body, and you completely failed to consider how ganging up on him might make him feel. "i'm... fuck. i'm really sorry, sukuna—"

"stop apologizing," he urges you in a low voice. it's partly because what he just said makes him feel pathetic, but more than that, it's because the look of self reproach you're wearing is akin to a thousand needles in his chest. "it's fine."

he can't believe you're sitting there with so much remorse over a man like him because you... what? wounded his pride?

he probably deserves it anyway.

why should you give a shit when he's done things a thousand times worse, a million different times?

oh, right. because you care about him.

you can't see the cursed energy at play, but you can tell it's working as your pain begins to dissipate.

once he's finished, he carefully moves your foot to the floor and looks up at you. it's not unlike the way a person might gaze at one of the wonders of the world, like they're lucky to be there in the first place.

with the intensity of his gaze, it feels like he can see right into your head— read your every thought and pick apart every emotion. has anyone ever looked at you like that before? you're having a hard time remembering. you're having a hard time thinking of anything at all, really.

so it goes without saying that you don't think about it when you lean forward and kiss him.

it's not at all like when you were trying to convince him to play cards. no, this isn't light hearted or frivolous.

and it's not like the other two kisses you've shared either. it isn't heated or desperate, nor does it leave you gasping for air.

it's tender. it's so fucking tender, in fact, that sukuna wonders whether he's going to crumble beneath your touch.

he grips the area just above your knees, as if needing something to tether himself to before he withers away completely.

his lips move with yours in a way that's slow and careful.

your hands are on either side of his face, ghosting over his skin as a testament to your hesitance— like you're not certain if this is something he would want.

he wonders how in the world you could ever second guess yourself.

when you pull back, you examine his face for a moment before a small, shy smile tugs at your lips and you murmur, "thanks 'kuna."

he just peers at you wordlessly and it makes you nervous, so you attempt to fill the silence. "it feels so much better. a-and i'm sorry again abo—"

his hand finds the back of your neck, pulling your lips against his for a moment longer. "don't mention it, angel."

ever since you gave sukuna your copy of frankenstein, he's spent a decent portion of your nights together reading, his brows drawn together in concentration.

upon finishing, he stares at the page after taking in the final line: "he was soon borne away by the waves and lost in darkness and distance."

he's deathly quiet and wearing some unreadable expression. his eyes seem far off.

you leave him be for a little while, as it's clear he's lost in thought, but eventually you grow a bit concerned. it's been nearly half an hour since he last moved.

"sukuna?"

he turns to you. "why did you think i would enjoy this particular book?"

you consider his question carefully, his mood evoking your own seriousness. "it's... elegant and tragic. i suppose i appreciate the moral grayness of it. why do you ask?"

"no reason."

"did you enjoy it?"

"yes."

"why?"

he ignores your question. "frankenstein— do you like his character?"

you can't help but feel like you're answering some sort of riddle. "i think he's foolish and arrogant, but i guess i pity him to some degree."

"and the creature?"

"i'm much more sympathetic toward him. he's very... complex and certainly less culpable for the events of the novel than his creator."

you're surprised when he laughs. "of course you would think that way."

and with that, he's flipping through the pages of the novel. you move to sit beside him and once he finds what he's looking for near the middle, he begins reading:

"remember, thou hast made me more powerful than thyself; my height is superior to thine, my joints more supple. but i will not be tempted to set myself in opposition to thee. i am thy creature, and i will be even mild and docile to my natural lord and king if thou wilt also perform thy part, the which thou owest me. oh, frankenstein, be not equitable to every other and trample upon me alone, to whom thy justice, and even thy clemency and affection, is most due. remember that i am thy creature; i ought to be thy adam, but i am rather the fallen angel, whom thou drivest from joy for no misdeed. everywhere i see bliss, from which i alone am irrevocably excluded. i was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend. make me happy, and i shall again be virtuous.”

his voice is strangely even, almost bordering on robotic. you're struck with the notion that he's attempting (with rare difficulty) to mask his emotions.

you regard him quizzically and wait for him to speak. the last thing you expect to hear tumbles from his lips.

"you know they called me the disgraced one?" you nod. "do you know why?"

"i know the story that sorcerers have passed down."

he hums. leaning back into the couch, he looks fixedly at the ceiling before continuing. "i was just a boy when i was orphaned and no one knew anything about my heritage, including me. jujutsu society took me in and raised me as a sorcerer."

"and you didn't care for it?"

"oh, quite the opposite. i reveled in it. my strength was unprecedented, that much was clear from the start. i surpassed my teachers with ease, and eventually, i took to training alone— reading primitive texts and honing skills that they couldn't teach me."

your hand finds his thigh, hoping to offer him some consolation before beckoning him to continue. "then what happened?"

"the men who had been my teachers, who had been the only.. family i'd ever known.. they scorned me. deemed me reckless and dangerous to jujutsu society. plotted my demise."

your voice is small when you ask, "were they right?"

he wants to hate the question— wants to hate you for asking it— but he knows that it's warranted.

"no. i admit i was forward thinking and a bit.. unorthodox, but i wasn't..."

"what they thought you were?" you offer gently.

he nods. "not until they made me that way— not until they abandoned me and backed me into a corner like some animal."

you struggle to find the right thing to say, if any such thing even exists. you're amazed that he's confiding in you, and while it makes your heart swell, you really don't want to fuck it up.

he looks back down at the book, his eyes scanning the paragraph before repeating, "i was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend."

he says it as if he's coming to terms with the circumstances of his life for the very first time.

"the creature was remorseful at the end of the novel," you recall somewhat bravely. "are you?"

sukuna thinks for a great deal of time before replying. you wait patiently for him.

"no," he answers decidedly.

looking over at you for the first time since he began his story, he's relieved to find your face is free of rebuke. instead, there's a warm willingness to understand him. a sadness because of the way he was alienated.

he's curious whether anyone would be able to read the sentiment on your face, or if he just knows you better than most.

is that a privilege he's worthy of? he doubts it.

"you didn't deserve what they did to you," you whisper, reaching up to rake your fingers through his hair, nails grazing his scalp before your palm rests against his temple.

his head leans almost imperceptibly into your hand, and any regret or unease he may have felt at relaying his past to you disappears. watching a single tear slip down your cheek, he wipes it away with the pad of his thumb.

he means to say "don't cry. not for me," but the words die in his throat.

for once, your tears are for him rather than because of him and it's utterly riveting. the fact that someone like you would cry on his behalf seems to contradict every horrible thing he's ever been told about himself.

he could sit here and bask in the feeling forever— he's always known himself to be selfish after all. and you know it too, don't you?

his eyes flicker between each of yours, studying your face. "do you want to know why i don't regret the things i've done?"

you tilt your head to the side. "why?"

"because even if it's made me into a monster..."

for a moment, he contemplates not saying anything more. he considers forcing himself to pull away from your touch, even if it's the only comfort he's been given his entire life. he might still be able to salvage whatever tiny, laughable pieces remain of his pride—

"all of my actions have led me to you."

your eyes soften before you're wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your body to his. he returns the gesture after a few seconds pass.

you know he's awful. you know he's cruel. you know that what he's been through doesn't excuse his actions. but still— you want so desperately to take away his pain. to make up for all the things in his past. to wipe the blood from his hands.

as you embrace such an incredibly complicated man (one who is infamous for unrivaled wickedness, yet has his face buried in your hair), you ponder the creature's plea: "make me happy, and i shall again be virtuous."

a/n 2: if you're still w me, thanks for reading!! i'm not sure how i feel abt this part, so feedback is both welcome and appreciated!! also, how do we like sukuna using angel?? in my head he picked it up from the "my good angel" line in jane eyre, so i hope it doesn't seem too unnatural. alsoooo, highly recommend frankenstein. it's one of my favorite books!! mary shelley popped off and literally created the entire genre of science fiction at 21! anyway, thanks for all the love yall, it means the world<3

taglist: @96jnie @ay0nha @sad-darksoul @bbysatoruuu @luciiferian @risuola @lirasmoon @disaster-rose @archivist-ghoul606 @creative1writings @sloppyzengarden @omismicrowave @cecesharktales @tanyeonn @hiqhkey @ruixrei @yellowsubiesdance @thefallofruins @anything-and-everything-here69 @emzalot @thepup356 @browneyedgirl22 @lantsovheiress // users in bold could not be tagged. if i forgot to tag anyone, my apologies!! just give me a heads up.

#m!writes #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna imagines #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna imagines #ryomen sukuna fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk fluff

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grison-in-space · 6 months

Text

Listening to Artificial Condition again, it strikes me how much Murderbot uses empathy reflexively as a survival skill. Look at this bit.

Upon meeting it, ART allows it on board and then announces that it knows that Murderbot is rogue. Then ART threatens to destroy it if it hacks ART's own systems. Murderbot is immediately terrified and shuts down all inputs, gives serious thought to spending the entire three month journey unconscious, and then considers the potential avenues of damage from ART's drones. ART, not realizing why Murderbot had suddenly gone silent, tells it to quit sulking, which understandably pisses off the still-terrified Murderbot. It dumps a bunch of memories of coercive treatment into ART's feed, and ART goes silent.

Then this happens:

Then it said, I’m sorry I frightened you. Okay, well. If you think I trusted that apology, you don’t know Murderbot. Most likely it was playing a game with me. I said, “I don’t want anything from you. I just want to ride to your next destination.” I’d explained that earlier, before it opened the hatch for me, but it was worth repeating. I felt it withdraw back behind its wall. I waited, and let my circulatory system purge the fear-generated chemicals. More time crawled by, and I started to get bored. Sitting here like this was too much like waiting in a cubicle after I’d been activated, waiting for the new clients to take delivery, for the next boring contract. If it was going to destroy me, at least I could get some media in before that happened. I started the new show again, but I was still too upset to enjoy it, so I stopped it and started rewatching an old episode of Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon. After three episodes, I was calmer and reluctantly beginning to see the transport’s perspective. A SecUnit could cause it a lot of internal damage if it wasn’t careful, and rogue SecUnits were not exactly known for lying low and avoiding trouble. I hadn’t hurt the last transport I had taken a ride on, but it didn’t know that. I didn’t understand why it had let me aboard, if it really didn’t want to hurt me. I wouldn’t have trusted me, if I was a transport. Maybe it was like me, and it had taken an opportunity because it was there, not because it knew what it wanted.

The thing about Murderbot's survival is that it clearly involves quite a bit of negotiating with other constructs and bots. That's how it talks its way onto cargo hauler bots in the first place. It uses empathy--envisioning the emotional and cognitive context of the individuals it encounters--to work out what different kinds of people want, so that it can offer them fair trades. It also uses empathy to consider what humans might be looking for, so it can practice blending in and hide.

Murderbot would never have survived so long if it wasn't capable of assessing the individual desires of the people--human, bot, and construct--around it. It thinks about ART's probable fears and motivations so that it can consider whether ART is inherently an ongoing threat or a potential ally.

When your survival depends on evading detection, you get really good at assessing perceptual biases so that you can shape yourself to fit into them. People talk about murderbot being radically empathetic as a choice it makes, or as a feature of its personality that makes it a good person. But I think murderbot would be the the first person to tell you that this empathy is part of its threat assessment suite, a skill that was developed out of necessity in order to allow you to survive.

It is also a trait that makes murderbot a good person, of course: it chooses very carefully to try to survive by doing as little harm as possible and by offering things, like media, that buy it access to things it needs. But it started as a survival skill. It's part of hypervigilance.

I think one of the strengths of this series is that so many of the things we love about SecUnit are traits developed for survival in an inherently threatening world. The shape of its mind and heart have been changed by the trauma of its origin--but they don't make murderbot less good for being altered, even if that skill was developed in a traumatic context.

I like that.

#murderbot #empathy as a tool #note that this is not necessarily natural empathy #it's cognitive and only happens when the adrenaline eases off #going to work my way though the existing published series before I dig into my brand new copy of the new one

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virgincels · 16 days

Text

r/AmItheAsshole

u/bwckennedy77 ・ 15h

AITA for having sexual relations with a girl that looks like my daughter?

Asshole

(tags - daddy daughter incest, facial, oral sex, some coercion, bad writing bc i’m tired and can’t execute the idea properly, be nice and don’t look at any mistakes!! leon small dick ik but he’s big for my sake here.)

Hi Reddit! New to this thing, first post got taken down, I can’t imagine why. Now, to cut to the chase, my wife left me this year a little after our daughter (20) moved out. Our marriage (M47, F46) had been strained for a couple years prior so I understand why she ended things. I’m stretched thin with an intensive job that requires me to be away for days and weeks at a time. I thought she would get it considering it is related to the military/government, but I guess all those missed birthdays really got to her! I have no qualms with this and totally understand her reasoning haha.

I don’t get the time to go on dates because of work like I said before and I really don’t have the energy to go on them anyway. I have a bit of a drinking problem if I’m completely honest which is where my actual story starts I guess.

I was at a bar and I don’t usually attempt to pick up girls but sometimes they come onto me I don’t think I have the worst face in the world, some call it easy on the eyes. Long story short this girl comes up to me she’s pretty young, I don’t usually go for younger girls. I mean I don’t go for any girls at all because I was married up until recently obviously haha, but I’m not one to say no so I took her back to my place.

Chick got super freaked out and started getting her things when I bent her over in the bedroom. Thought it was just reality hitting her or some shit. She was calling me a creep and she left as my daughter let herself in, she’s back in town and only just arrived at that moment.

They looked at each other and it hit me. They looked the same. That chick saw the photo I have of my daughter on the cabinet and flipped. The chick leaves and my daughter gets super mad at me starts calling me names and she went up to her room and she won’t speak to me now. Didn’t think that it was that big of a deal you know? Don’t really know what I did wrong since it wasn’t intentional or anything but with the way she’s acting I just feel like a dick so AITA?

⇧ 52478 | ⇩ 💬 27821

Killer_RedQueen79 ・ 14h・ Supreme Court Just-Ass [124]

I hope to fucking god this is not you Leon.

bwckennedy77 OP・ 11h

I don’t know any Leon’s sorry

DuckieUnderWater ・ 13h ・ Partassipant [2]

Dude why the whole fucking life story. Title alone was enough for me to know that YTA and a fucking creep.

bwckennedy77 OP ・ 2h

I think you’re all taking this out of context! I didn’t want her because she looks like my daughter, I’m just easy!

NeonGenesis738 ・ 12h ・Asshole Enthusiast [6]

first post got taken down, I can’t imagine why

I could name a few fucking reasons why you sick fuck. YTA. She should call the cops and go non contact.

bwckennedy77 OP ・ 5h

I am a super cop buddy! Very high rank!!!

NeonGenesis738 ・ 2h ・Asshole Enthusiast [6]

Of course you fucking are

YTA, YTA, YTA, YTA, YTA.

Leon scoffs, reading glasses slipping down the slant of his nose as he squints at his screen. He is not the fucking asshole here. No one is. You’re just a bit of a drama queen. Just like your ma, but you haven’t quite reached the levels of hysteria that Leon has managed in his day to day life.

Man, there’s never a clean slate. Just more and more shit piled on top of shit and more shit—Enough to break the ozone layer or whatever it is that’s going on in this little world. The other problems that he can’t save it from.

It has been two meandering days since you’ve talked to him, you move like a ghoul in the night to avoid a one on one Family Meeting that Leon has been itching to suggest. Reddit, as Claire suggested - not for this occasion, but for when he generally needs a variety of opinions - is unhelpful. Reddit is a crowd that wields its pitchforks at anything that passes by.

Like, seriously, it’s not like Leon picked her out of the crowd, he didn’t sit there waiting for her to show up—Well, he did let down the shortstack that approached him first, and the blonde with the hollow face, and the dude who bought him a drink. They just didn’t tickle his fancy and that’s alright. Can’t help having a type, and to clarify that type is not his daughter.

Divorce is tough, alright? Leon’s always looking for a friendly face, hers probably came with all those memories of you attached and he subconsciously picked her out. Fuckin’ made him release endorphins or some shit. And she was cute. Because you’re cute. Not in a weird way, just subjectively, you’re a cute girl with a nice body you can owe to him. Christ, it all sounds so wrong when he puts it into perspective, but that was never his intention.

He fucked his wife whenever he could get it up, he fucked her for a long fucking time for a number of years. Leon wouldn’t fuck a woman he finds ugly, he found her pretty hot, actually, and it just so happens that you look like your ma. So, you’re a good-looking kid—Not in a weird way. Never in a weird way.

That’s how it works, isn’t it? Kids look like their parents and parents can admire that and it doesn’t mean they want to fuck them.

But that girl was—She was hot, god damn it. He had her tits in his hands, squeezing them so tight she squealed, pushing them up and down, slapping them left and right, fat spilling past the gaps in his fingers. And so what if Leon thought that they looked like yours.

Maybe he thought about that time at the beach, when your string bikini did exactly what good string bikinis do - come undone.

(He had lowered his sunglasses and looked right at you.)

Maybe about that time you needed a towel and Leon took a peek at your body through the steamed glass when he tossed one over the shower door.

(“My eyes are closed, sweetheart!” He had promised while staring at you very open-eyed.)

Or when he sent you off to bed with a smack on the ass ‘cause he just wasn’t thinking too hard, Leon hardly ever thinks at all. He played it off as sportsmanship or whatever. Game got him amped up.

(You look like your mom from behind, he couldn’t help himself, it was an impulse—It was only natural.)

Leon has the bright idea to pass the time by watching porn, because honestly he’s been pent up since it happened. First time his dick kicked in weeks and she walked out on him all ‘cause she looked a little like his daughter. Weak. Freud never mentioned anything about this—Not that Leon knows much about that guy, nothing at all actually, but from what he’s heard, no dads crushing on daughters have ever been mentioned. Or maybe he's got reading to do.

Porn is usually a quick and easy fix. It is for everybody. Not Leon though, he’s gotta search hard for shit he likes, it’s not on the front page and it takes him forever to find one that’s suitable. Some of ‘em have too much dick, some of the positions just look painful, some of these clits aren’t being touched, and some of these girls are just plain ugly.

Then he finds one, she’s real cute, that’s all. Nothing is familiar about her eyes and nose and lips and body and hair. Not the way she smiles over her shoulder at him. Nothing at all.

He falls asleep with the tab open and a hand down his pants.

To avoid detection, you creep around the house when it’s lights out. Dad wakes up easily, military training and whatnot. So you’ve gotten used to this, sneaking leftovers from the fridge past midnight, watching the TV on silent, squinting to read the subtitles.

He didn’t mean it. You think. You hope. Leon is so… So harmless. Your dad is sweet and a little stupid, he’s kind and clueless and all of the things most dads are. He buys you an abundance of apples when you tell him you like apples, he throws out the oranges when you tell him you don’t like them ‘cause they make your hands smell funny. He stands on the porch watching the clouds, he sleeps alone in his king sized bed and hugs his pillow tight. He keeps his wedding ring on his bedside cabinet next to a picture of you

But that was weird. Seriously, you thought he put a mirror in the hall for a minute. Or that you were in some strange dreamscape. Or in a coma. Or all of the above.

You tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, but he just brushed you off like it meant nothing. Like that girl wasn’t your long lost twin, a sister he and your mom put up for adoption twenty years ago. So, yeah, you got a little pissy at him. ‘Cause it’s nothing to act nonchalant about.

Okay, and what if this is a little bit of a projection.

You got mad at him, real mad, ‘cause maybe you were a little jealous and maybe you like knowing that your dad is single and not fucking—Maybe you think about that time you went to the sauna together, all that sweat, beading along the firm lines of his abdomen, dripping down and down and down and melting into the fabric of his white towel. Maybe you wanted to see what was under there. Maybe you mix up the laundry on purpose, make it so he can’t find a nice shirt to wear and he gives up and does without one all together.

Maybe you do all those things. Maybe you don’t want to be a bad person, and the guilt outweighs your desires.

Or maybe you are just a very regular girl behaving in very regular ways to the sight of your dad fucking your lookalike. Maybe it’s that. God, please be that.

You wander into his room with a very dire problem. There’s a spider in the shower, and maybe you're ready for that Family Meeting now.

He’s sleeping, the blue light of his laptop casts a glow on his face, head tipped back, lips parted as he snores loudly. You almost don’t catch it. Then, when you go to shake him awake gently, you take a good look at his screen and find the weight of the world is not enough to support the wave of anger that rips through you, a tsunami tearing a nation in half.

No fucking way. No fucking way. No fucking way!

He’s watching porn, whatever, he can do that. Your dad is a grown man, and while you don’t exactly want to know about his tastes, you sorta had him figured out. The kind of man who watches corny studio porn with unwet pussy and dicks so big they shouldn’t be allowed within 10 feet of a vagina.

The girl on the screen—She looks like you. Albeit a little plastic in the way most professional pornstars are. Too-firm tits, filler migrating into the space above her lips, it hurts for her to smile and—Well, none of this fucking matters because she looks like you and your dad is watching her take two dicks in one hole.

And wow. She’s taking them well. Really… Really well. This isn’t so bad, you salute his taste a little more—Oh, wow, that guy is kind of… You recognise him, something about his face is familiar.

You press rewind.

It starts cheesy and devolves into something cheesier. It starts dirty and it ends with a dick in her pussy and one in her mouth, they might end up meeting in the middle, kiss tips in her guts.

It’s the loud one—The one that says all the dirty shit and spits in her mouth and slaps her tits and knocks her around—He looks like dad.

Mainly from the side, the straight edge of his nose, the way his eyes crease when he smiles down at her all mean.

(You skip anytime he faces the camera head on.)

“You’re really enjoying that, huh?”

“Jesus Christ—“ You jolt and knock your head against the headboard. “Dad!”

“Baby!”

“You scared me,” you say, elbowing him in the gut as he sits up, “I wasn’t—Why’re you watching this?”

“What? I can’t watch porn in my room now?” Leon pauses the video, he’s not upset, amused but not upset.

“No—I mean you can, do whatever you want, but why is it… She looks like…” You wave your hand at the screen like it’s a hologram and it’ll go if you wave it away. It’ll flicker if you stare at it long and hard enough.

“Like what, sweetheart?” He drapes his arm over your shoulders, pulls you into his chest as you stammer like a fucking idiot. “Go on, you’re a big girl.”

“Let go of me,” you tell him weakly, a shoddy attempt at sounding horrified. Like you should when you’re caught watching porn—Your dad’s porn nonetheless.

“No, that’s not what it is, baby, answer my question.” He holds you in place, hand running up and down your side, rubbing circles into the fat of your hip. “Who does she look like?”

“Like… Like no one.”

“No, I don’t think that’s right, c’mon, I’ll give you one more chance, baby.” Leon’s fingers are cool on your skin, slipping under the hem of your shirt and settling on your waist. “Who does she look like?”

You turn your head, but he catches your chin and forces you to stare at the screen, right into her face—Your face. “Like me…”

“See, baby?” He kisses your forehead like he has a million times before. “Knew you could do it, my good girl,” he says like he does after you ace your tests, when you learnt how to ride a bike, and now he’ll say it while you learn to work his dick. “And who does he look like?”

“…Like you, dad.”

“Well done, baby,” he coos, kissing your jaw, “you’re so smart, aren’t you, baby?”

“Stop it—“ Your body catches alight when his hands slide upwards, taking your tits into his hands and squeezing so tight they might pop. “Stop it, dad—I don’t…”

What if, and this is a big what if, what if you get pregnant and the punnett square is one-by-one—It’s a punnet rectangle at that point.

What if your mom finds out?

What if you like it?

That’s the worst part of it all - you will like it.

You’ve wanted this—You can’t even keep up the lie anymore. You’ve wanted him for so long you couldn’t hold back a smile at court, when they signed those papers and when mom moved out you kept smiling. Fuck. What is wrong with you?

“You liked that didn’t you?” Dad says in your ear, his breath is hot and he smells like soap and sweat. His stubble tickles your skin when he presses a wet kiss to your neck. “Bet it got your little pussy all wet.”

“No it didn’t.” You try to level yourself, taking a shuddering breath when his hand dips past your navel to toy with the bow that lines the middle of your waistband.

“Okay, prove it.”

“How am I meant to prove that, dad?” You click your tongue, lay the annoyance act on thick, but make no attempt to leave.

“You gotta show me, baby.” He flicks your forehead with his free hand, the other cups your mound. “Can feel you already.”

“Then I guess I don’t need to show you,” you breathe out, placing your trembling hand on the arm that’s wrapped around you while his fingers run up and down your clothed slit.

“Nah, think I need to know for sure.” Leon’s teeth nip at your ear lobe, tugging lightly as he pulls your panties taut to your cunt, a makeshift g-string, caught between your pussy lips. “So fat, baby, whatcha been feeding her?” Your dick. Your dick. God, please, feed it your dick. He pinches your cunt, pushing your lips together and your clit throbs so hard you think it might burst.

“Dad,” you gasp, back going ramrod straight as the fabric rubs up against your swollen clit. “Don’t say that—So weird, you’re so weird, actual fucking weirdo.”

“Look at you.” His shirt slips from your shoulder as you rut your hips up, his grip on the waistband tightens, bunches up even further, pushing against your clit so hard it might split in half. “Dirty little girl, why you doin’ that?” You feel dad’s smile on your neck.

“‘Cause…” You grab at his arm, pushing your face into his bicep to muffle an embarrassing whine and it’s so fucking big. Muscle cushioned by a layer of fat, when you dig your fingers into it, his skin dimples.

“‘Cause..?” Leon taps your clit, lets go of your panties to let your pussy breathe. “I’m waiting, baby.”

“Feels good, dad,” you whimper, hanging your head in shame, pressing your nose into the crease of his elbow as he slides your panties to the side.

“I know, baby, you can’t help yourself, can you?” Dad drags a finger along your slippery slit, pussy clicking wetly when he dips a finger inside your tight hole. “Think daddy spoiled you too much.”

“Not… Not true…” You stifle another noise into his bicep, suckling on his skin to taste it.

After this is all said and done, you might have to leave and never look back. You might have to emancipate yourself so you can marry him, take back your last name and pretend it was never yours to begin with.

Slowly, Leon rubs figure eights into your twitching clit, you grind into him, ears burning at the squelch of your drippy cunt—He isn’t even in your hole, he’s just playing with your clit and you’re making a mess, pussy all sloppy and noisy.

When you cum, it’s a gradual burn that washes over you like waves lapping at your ankles. Your toes curl and there’s a strangled noise in your throat as your pussy drips slick into the cupped palm of his hand.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Leon coos, “that’s what you needed, hm?”

You rock your hips into his hand as your high melts away, leaving half-guilt and half-regret and a wet pussy that’s perfect for fucking.

Dad lays you down, he still keeps mom’s perfume, he still sprays it on the bed sheets. It's the first thing you smell when your head hits the pillow with a soft thump. This is the bed you were made in, it’s the bed you slept in on sick days and nights when thunder was particularly loud. It’s the bed you slept in when dad was away and you and mom only had each for warmth.

What are you doing?

Well, you’re lifting your hips in the air so dad can take your panties off. Then you’re spreading your legs as far as they go so he gets a clear view of your pussy, glistening under the dimmed bulb, slick coating your puffy lips and drying on your inner thighs.

His sweats are lowered, cock springing up and smacking his abdomen, the tip drips and drizzles him in honey. Oh, god—It’s like big? You didn’t expect that, actually. You’d like to say you haven’t thought of it all, but you have and you do often.

“Think you can take it, baby?” Leon asks, tapping the fat head on your bud. Heart to heart, tip to clit. “Or does daddy need to eat your pussy?”

“I can take it, dad…” You nod, giving an earnest nod of your head and sizing up his cock, doing some mental mathematics as you try to calculate how many inches deep your pussy is and how big that fucking dick is. Although… You want his mouth on you—But that cock is more important right now.

“Atta girl.” He never pushes it in. You ache and shiver with each drag of his cock along your pussy, it bumps your clit and your whole body jolts.

For a moment, your mind and body disconnect, you’re watching a terribly taboo porn video and taking gross amounts of pleasure in it—Living out your fantasy through the bodies of others because it’s the closest you’ll ever get. But this is very much real and it is very much wrong.

When dad slides in, the fat head of his dick breaching your walls, the second he bottoms out, your pussy forces him back out as you cum for a second time, fucking gushing from the weight of his dick bumping into your cervix.

“Oh, baby, is it too much for you?” Sweetly, Leon presses a kiss between your tits as your chest heaves. “Is your pussy too little, daddy can try again another day, sweetheart.” He’s winding you up.

“Noo—Dad, please, ‘m want it so bad, please,” you beg incoherently, cunt dripping with your release.

“Okay, baby,” he abides, pressing the tip to your hole and pushing into you inch by inch. Being torn in half has never felt so good. “Only ‘cause I love you, my spoiled girl, huh?”

“Oh, fuck,” you sob, fat tears catching on your lower lashes as he stretches you out, “dad—daddy!”

“I know, baby, daddy’s right here,” Leon hums, he lowers his face to press into your tits, taking a peaked nipple into his mouth and popping off to suck on the other. Then he fucking motorboats you. Because of course he does.

You cry out, pushing at his head. “That’s so embarrassing, dad!” You manage to tell him through each of his mean thrusts, poking at your cervix like he’s trying to fuck your guts.

“‘S not, baby, dad just thinks your tits are real cute.” He pinches your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pulls until you squeal, smacking a fist against his chest.

Each drag of his dick inside of you is like—Gosh, you don’t know, it’s like heaven on earth or whatever the best feeling in this godforsaken place is. The smell of dew in the morning, a can of soda with a burger, the scent of cinnamon apple candles during Christmas time. It’s his dick rabbiting into your pussy with enough force to fuel a fucking rocket ship.

The schlick of your pussy goes unheard as his balls slap against your ass, and you dig your nails into his to push him deeper, it’s so fucking soft—Why is his ass so soft?

“So little, baby.” Dad pouts down at you, one big hand on your tit and the other cups your cheek. “Daddy can’t even fit inside.”

You squeeze down on him, and your greedy cunt sucks his dick in to the best of your abilities, but there’s still an inch or two that you can’t possibly fit. The base of his cock is coated in a milky white ring, it drips down his balls and—God, you’re about to cum again. His thumb finds your clit, and thank god it does. You cum so hard you see stars and all of Saturn’s moons.

“Aw, baby, you needed that.” Dad continues to hump into your cunt, his furrowed brow and the puff of his breath on your face is almost too much for you to handle. “My baby, always mouthin’ off at me, you just needed some dick, didn’t you? Jus’ needed dad to play with this spoiled little cunt, hm?”

“Mhm…” You nod because what else are you meant to do? Say no? The man is right.

He pulls out and you whine, pussy gripping him so tight Leon groans as hm the head pops out with a lewd, wet sound. “C’mere, baby, come on.” He urges you to sit up, so you do, using your elbows to push up as you’re met face to face with his fat cock.

Leon smears the tip on your lips, and you swear to god you’d finish off a cute lip combo with his pre. You take the head into your mouth and suck on it, it’s velvety under your tongue, you wrap a hand around his shaft to make up for what you can’t suck. It’s uncut on the fat, skin folding and creasing each time you pump him, peeking out from underneath the hood so you can tongue his slit. He tastes like your pussy and something muskier.

He groans all deep and nice and smooth, low in his throat, makes your pussy tingle. You jerk his wet cock off, mouthing along the base of his cock until you suck on his sac, slurping and smacking like you oughta do for a dick like this. His balls plap, plap, plap against your hand and they tighten before he cums, thick sticky seed spilling from the tip like the slow trickle of honey. It paints your face white, dribbling down your cheeks and chin to stain your tits.

“Put those cute glasses on next time, baby.” Leon kisses your mouth, licking into it and tasting his salty cum. “The ones you wear to class.”

Dazed, guilty and giddy all at once, you look up at him with a frown. “Why?”

“‘Cause I wanna cum on them, stupid.” He flicks your forehead again, sends you out of his room with a hard smack on the ass.

“Wait, dad!” You hold onto him before Leon makes you leave.

“Hm?” He strokes your head as you pout up at him, softening so easily. “What’s up, sweetheart?”

“There’s a spider in the shower, can you get rid of it?”

“No,” he scoffs, “get outta here, ‘s all you use me for.”

“Dad!” You whine, latching onto him, “daddy, please, it’s so big! Please, we can… We can do it together, um, shower together not—not kill the spider together.”

Leon grumbles the entire time, he squashes it with a tissue and flushes it down the toilet, but any qualms are washed away by the hot water and your plush tits pressing to his chest as you stand facing him.

You could get used to this. You shouldn’t, but you will.

r/AmItheAsshole

u/bwckennedy77 ・ 1m

AITA for fucking my daughter?

#dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy x you

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xamag-draws · 1 month

Text

BBR thoughts 2024

Since I mentioned that I finally dusted off an old project of mine and was ruminating on how I'd remake it, I thought I'd elaborate a little, now that I've solidified some concepts. For funsies

This is gonna be a bit of a long and unfocused one, but I don't share my personal thoughts here often, especially the stuff about my projects I always marinate in. And for once it's something that people have existing context for, so hey why not

So for anyone who hasn't been following me for a gajillion years, The Black Brick Road of OZ was a webcomic that I posted around 2013-2015, back when I was in highschool going on college (which is kinda crazy to think about). It was sort of a darker twist on The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, although I definitely leaned a lot more into dark humor more than anything in those first few chapters

I don't think it's available to read anywhere anymore, and I know people have been asking me about it. So here's the full proper archive of BBR, as full as it can be with deceased Flash

I totally used it as an excuse to shamelessly and self-indulgently experiment. It had interactive pages and GIFs and was wayyy too overproduced for what I could handle or what was necessary, but I did have great fun making it while it lasted

Unfortunately, that excess and the fact that I've changed too much as a person by the time I was in college is what ultimately killed it. The direction I wanted to go in was practically unrecognizable from the original idea started back in 2011, so there were many old hold-ups that I felt ruined it

At the time I kinda wished I could start/rewrite it all over, but considering that I pretty much had the entire script done at that point, it felt like a pointless sisyphean task. So I just put it on a shelf and didn't look back for about 8 years, because I didn't know what else to do

Now to be fair, the nature of my art has always been iterative and cyclical; when I feel like my creative juices have run dry I prefer to leave a project to marinate and move on to something else; cycle through other old things and bring in new skills and perspectives into the mix when I'm ready again. Not very productive, but it is what makes me happy to work on my OCs; I'm doomed to hit a wall with them eventually and I need some time to be able to find a new direction

So that said, I'm glad that BBR was left to marinate for that long. I don't think I was prepared, emotionally or intellectually, to tackle it again until now. The Wizard of Oz book (and the entire series of them, really) has always been near and dear to my heart, but there's a lot of context around it that I'm only unpacking now that I'm older

I think I always inherently feel negatively about the stuff I've made in the past, like its faults always jump out to me more than the positives, especially the more time passes. I've never liked that, and I do really appreciate the kind things people have to say about BBR to this day. The fact that it still can be recognized and remembered is very sweet

When I left it, I already found it "kinda cringe", and that feeling only deepened with years. When I took my first look back at it, asking the question "how would I rewrite it now?", at first I took a very cynical approach, as in "everything would have to be torn down"

But the more I sat on it, the more I found that I still see some merit and charm in the ideas I was putting out; I just didn't know how to execute them at the time (not to pretend that I know what I'm doing now, but I certainly know more at least). Turns out a lot of my old concepts could be changed substantially with just a few small tweaks. So I'd say that's a nicer way to think about my previous work

If you haven't seen yet, I posted a first draft of my new designs for some of the characters (the main group, the Goods and the Wickeds). Definitely subject to change, but more or less how I see them now

I'm just playing with these concepts; by no means would I attempt to remake BBR right this moment. Call it a pipe dream among my other ones. But just for fun, this is the direction I'd like to take:

Nowadays I'd probably make it a visual novel, with more emphasis on the visual part than the novel because I'm no English prose writer by any means. It'd still let me play a little with the interactivity while helping cut some corners on the drawing part (only some, I imagine I'd go hog wild anyway)

I've always intended for some events inspired by the sequel books to take place in BBR's past. Stuff like Jinjur's revolt or Ozma's rule preceeds the main events here. So I think it would be fun to follow the past of a few key characters alongside the main story. One chapter focusing on the present quest to see the Wizard, then one focusing on the past events (that are maybe reflective thematically); rinse and repeat

I'm also sticking a little closer to the original text in some regards. Not everything that I enjoy from the books would be translated here, it's still just a very loose fantasy on the material; but I'd like to be closer in spirit at least

I like mature, wise and powerful Glinda, I like kind and vulnerable Tin Man, I like the Wizard being a pathetic yet loveable liar, so I'm sprinkling in more of that for example

I'd like to keep some whimsy, but make it more grounded and a bit more serious to be coherent in tone. I think the original TWWOOZ book was a more realistic fantasy in some ways, even for the standards of the time; I like its simple but vivid tactile descriptions and details like bringing attention that Dorothy needed to eat and sleep

I find it funny that Baum specifically was averse to making his books scary or unpleasant, finding that unnecessary for telling a compelling kids story, but they still can get pretty dark and disturbing, at least for our modern sensibilities. Let's just say that I intend to use the Evoldo and Chopfyt storylines for my purposes. In that way, I feel like a "darker" Wizard of Oz retelling can still mostly be tonally in line with the original and balance it with enough heart and occasional humor

I slowly grew to appreciate the quaint old-timey quality of the original series, as well. The first book is both timeless and very much a product of the 1900s. Originally I tried to give it a little modern or at least anachronistic spin, but it was moreso because it's what I knew best, so these days I'd rather intentionally lean into the time period. Still not fully historically accurate by any means, but at least directly acknowledging the influence

The events of the story span across 40 years of these characters' lives, so I'm drawing inspiration from the entire so-called La Belle Epoque: the time period around 1880s-1920s. Basically I'm cooking, and my soup is old Victorian fashion morphing into Edwardian fashion and slowly inching towards flappers

Some new Dolly outfits

Lots of crazy things, political changes and innovations were happening at the turn of the century, which I think is noted and reflected by Baum in the books as well; the character of Tik-Tok might not blow any minds now, but he was one of the first robot characters in literature at that point; and don't even get me started on Jinjur, etc. Plenty of really interesting stuff one could lightly ponder in an Oz adaptation these days

Aesthetically, art nouveau has always been a big artistic influence for me, and it'd definitely be its time to shine here. John R. Neill's illustrations of the Oz books often keep me company as well. Nouveau architecture in particular fits that fairytale whimsy extremely well imo

I'd allow myself a little bit of art deco here and there, but ultimately its intimidating geometrical splendor is an antithetical to the flowery nature of nouveau and I associate it with a completely different era. Definitely fitting some characters like my Wicked Witch of the West, but shouldn't be overused

One of my main problems with the original BBR was that eventually I lost track of what it was even about; and the original ending felt too mean and unfulfilling to be worth it. Now I'd like to stick to the theme of home and family as my main theme, but in a different, more bittersweet way than in the book

An interesting connection I made is that a lot of my aforementioned older key characters (the Witches, Jinjur, the Nome King, etc) all came from the same reformatory as kids, that's how they know each other. In my recent research I learned that in those reformatories it was usually frowned upon to release the children back to the families, which were seen as the original corrupting influence regardless of the circumstance. The reformatory did everything in its power to cut that connection and make itself the only family those wayward kids were supposed to know and love. That's an unexpected tie into the theme of home that I'd like to explore as well

So yeah that's the current state of it. I have a bunch of outfit concepts I'm slowly cooking, although I'm now sure whether I'd post them... But I do miss these funny guys, and I'm glad some people still do as well :)

#my art #xam rambles #the black brick road of oz #long post #ohsees tag

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moonsaver · 18 days

Note

Context before getting into the actual idea: I recently saw some fanart based on concept art for Dr Ratio where he has slightly longer, messier hair and the fanart interpreted this as him having a bit of a rebellious phase when he was younger.

So now I’m just thinking about Reader going to school with him when he was going through this phase. He had a bit of a crush on her but didn’t know how to express it so he just messed with her constantly.

And now they meet again when he’s changed and he hasn’t gotten over her she’s just getting massive amounts of whiplash from how wildly different he is. Could be yandere 👀

Anon. I am GRIPPINT YOU BY THE SHOULDERS. Listen. Unfortunately i doubt i did this justice but i tried my best PLEASE okay

A bit long, under the cut!

Its not exactly easy to imagine Dr. Ratio of all people being rebellious, but that just makes it even more possibly believeable in my opinion. I am deeply convinced he has had his crazy scientist, jerkward asshole phase at least once and was soo deeply embarassed the moment he left it.

But listen. His professors all probably HATED him because he would probably constantly correct them, be so disgustingly overeducated to the point they'd send him to the library or tell him to get lost just so he wouldn't disrupt class. He's the infamous asshole who sits wherever he wants, and hoardes an entire table to himself if he's at the library or at the cafeteria. Any student who needs a pen or eraser or a pencil knows he's NOT the one to ask, even if it was in the middle of an exam worth half their grade and he was the only person beside them. He does literally anything he wants and no one can stop him except probably by force, and if they do, something worse ends up happening to them instead.

Anyways, here comes in reader. Probably already knows his sour reputation. Regardless, maybe you're the poor soul who's his seatmate. If the crush is already established, he's constantly bothering you. Asking for stationaries like the entirety of his desk isn't covered by it already (he likes the miniscule interaction), taking your notebooks without your knowledge and sometimes even scribbling inside of them (its his horrid handwriting, he's just trying to help you with detailed notes), he comments on how "lame" your outfit is, asking about your social life, rolling his eyes when your response isn't exactly.. pleasing (he's actually a bit content with it. Perhaps you'll hang out with him more, instead?). You note the smell of alcohol trailing him a bit everytime you interact with him.

It's not easy for him, especially when you can't seem to keep up and look so queasy around him. Aeons, his heart is so twisted up and squeezed everytime he seems to be getting more distant from you, but he just has no idea how to convey his feelings. Not when he didn't even account for the fact he'll have a crush on anyone in the first place.

Anyways, timeskip!

You're probably a researcher of some sort, maybe not so well known. Let's just say for the sake of simplicity you're a researcher on Herta's space station. It's not too soon before he runs into you, probably after the whole mess at the station's been "cleaned up" regarding the curio and whatever. Maybe he doesn't leave right after that interaction with Screwellum, and he decides to, by his curiosity, take a look around once again before he leaves (certainly not because he's heard a familiar name thrown around a few times).

And there you are. In your little research-getup, professional vernacular, hair all neat. He's probably right behind you in an instant, and you turn around to look as the colleague you were talking to suddenly starts stuttering and becoming squeamish while looking behind you. There he is, in all his (cruel?) Glory. The infamous asshole who was your classmate.

But.. it's surprising how much more mellow he's become (at least towards you?). His hair are neatly tamed, his build is taller and more muscular than it was back then, but his attire is also quite tame (if not a little.. fancy?), compared to his brash taste back then. His eyes still seem to hold contempt, but more distantly so.

Veritas figures your mouth is agape and you're speechless considering the change in his countenance as of recent. He's also not yet come to terms with the fact that his heart still twists and squeezes whenever he sees that unsure look on your face. If you were made of clay, and if he could, he'd meld the most beautiful smile on your face with his craftful fingers. Alas, he resorts to tamer methods. At least he supposes he's a wiser man, now. He's more aware of different courting methods.

He asks about your station, your current life, family, friends, etc .. in a seemingly disinterested tone. There's a bit of resignation but hidden constrain in his voice, everytime you mention a "close friend" of yours or a colleague you worked with "closely". But he hasn't been berating you the way he would have back then. His fingers slightly constantly strain, folded behind his back, trying desperately not to taper towards you – there's stray strands of hair on your face. Your headpiece is off centre. Your pen is slanting in your pocket. Your shoulders are too tense. Your eyebrows are furrowed. your eyes look tired. Have your lips always been chapped? They were fine back then.. hold on.

While you stutter out useless formalities and pleasantries, Veritas' eyes scan you over. Time has weathered you well, in his opinion. The thin line of his pressed lips dont quite indicate that. He sighs almost grimly, shutting you up in an instant. He offers you to accompany him and possibly consider joining the Intelligentsia Guild (is it not worth a shot trying? It may be foolish, but he's a tad too desperate when it comes to you). You timidly mumble out a refusal, the words barely leaving your mouth. He nods.

Catching up makes his heart squeeze and rush all over the place. Topics he once tried to teach you back then (by.. VERY unsuccessful methods,) seem to be elementary knowledge to you now. You work more efficiently, hold yourself in a better, more confident way, and you seem to be smoothsailing in your life. Granted, it's technically the bare minimum, but its been so long since he talked to you. The chirp in your voice, the chuckle you let out every now and then despite your nervousness around him, has his heart in his throat. He can't bring himself to try and even "set you straight" by giving you (unwarranted) advice or piddling your achievements, there's a soft smile he's duly hiding behind his scorning face.

He offers you again, if you are unsure about joining the Guild, and discreetly mentions it being filled with imbeciles regardless when you deny again, pulling another string of laughter out of you. Hmph, you weren't so joyful when he made those statements back in high school.

Granted,you're obviously still not quite sure about Veritas' new look. He's still got his infamous reputation as an extremely strict teacher, the oddball with an alabastor head and having worked with the IPC, it's not a pleasant image per se, but it's heaps better than his reputation back at school. You politely make a joke about it, and he groans, earning another cautious, light chuckle from you. He has become different. You prattle on about the length of his hair, his refinement of speech, the difference in how he holds himself now.. it does leave him melting a tad bit inside. You noticed it? Hm. Clever little thing.

Of course, goodbyes are seldom sweet. He does manage to pry out your contact information once again, before. If you don't budge,he finds another way regardless. Your network of colleagues aren't exactly as strong as you might have thought. He remembers this information carefully.

Like the old days, maybe he'll manage to keep slipping notes into your reports and files. Perhaps pull a few strings back in the old days to keep you in his class, he'll slowly knot and twist a few strings to bring and budge you over to his little workplace. Sooner or later, you'll end up in his home. He's sure of it.

And just like the old days, his little seatmate is by his side once again. Care to put up with him for a bit longer? Probably forever, in this case.

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cleo-fox · 3 months

Text

Daylight

Summary: Despite your best efforts, Sunday morning doesn’t go as planned…and you couldn’t be happier about it.

Pairings: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, shower sex, fingering, vaginal sex, soft sex, sex that causes you to be several hours late for work, Loki being a (respectful) horn dog.

Series: Overtime (I don't have a masterlist for this yet, but the first fic is here). A/N: This started out as a scene in Overtime that kind of took on a life of its own. You don't necessarily need to read Overtime in order to enjoy or understand this fic, but you'll have more context if you do. Anyway, it was fun revisiting these two idiots--I've got a few more ideas for them up my sleeve, so there will be more in this series at some point.

The sunlight wakes you the next morning.

It’s the same sunlight as always, but it looks different coming through Loki’s window and streaming across his bed. It looks better, you think, splashed across his sheets.

Or maybe it’s the addition of your hand clasped with his resting on those same sheets. Or perhaps it’s the sight of your clothes and his, discarded on the bedroom floor in a pool of sunlight, combined with the fact that you’re still wrapped in his arms. Maybe all of that is why it seems better.

That seems more likely.

You lie still for a moment, simply enjoying the feeling of his arms and the heat of his skin against your bare back. You are reasonably certain he’s asleep from the steady rhythm of his breath on your neck, but you’re not about to disturb the sleepy calm of the morning to confirm that.

The clock on his bedside table says it’s just after six. Before last night, you would have said that this was a reasonable time to get up—early enough to ensure that you’re in the office by eight, which would hopefully give you enough time to meet this evening’s deadline, but not so early that it makes you question your life and your choices.

But that was before. Now…well. You suddenly find that your priorities look very different from the comfort of Loki’s bed.

You decide that you didn’t really see the clock. Neither one of you thought to set an alarm last night. Sleeping in was inevitable. That’s not your fault. No harm, no foul.

You close your eyes and allow yourself to fall into a light doze, warmed by the sunlight and Loki’s embrace.

Sometime later, you’re woken by the soft brush of a kiss against your neck.

“Did you sleep well?” he murmurs against your neck.

“Yes, though I did have a bit of a late night,” you say. “Someone kept me up.”

“Really? That was rude of him.”

“Very.”

He’s noticeably—achingly—hard. His lips brush against your neck again. “Perhaps he might make it up to you?”

Your intention is to open your eyes, roll over, and allow yourself to be ravished. But in a development you can only describe as tragic, you happen to catch sight of the clock on his nightstand.

7:38 am.

“Shit,” you say. “It’s almost eight.”

Loki is predictably unconcerned about this. “We don’t have any official hours to keep,” he says, his hand skimming along your ribs and down the curve of your waist. “We have all day.”

“Yeah, but we’ve got a ton more to do,” you say, trying to ignore how good he is at kissing your neck or how his hand is drifting down your hip toward the aching pulse between your legs. “We really need every minute.”

“That is true,” he says solemnly. “Perhaps we ought shower together to save time.”

You can’t help but smile. “I kind of feel like you have another agenda.”

“I’d never,” he says.

“The raging hard on pressing against my ass would suggest otherwise.”

You can almost hear him smirk as he gives his hips a teasing little thrust against you. “I contain multitudes.”

You wiggle out of his embrace and slip out of bed. You intend to look back and give him a coquettish look and say something sharp and teasing, but instead, the sight of him takes your breath away. He leans back on his elbows, looking everything like the sort of lounging god you would see depicted in marble at the Parthenon, all chiseled, sharp muscles and clean lines. His cock stands fully erect and deliciously thick, flushed with wanting.

“I can’t help but notice that you didn’t reject the offer,” he says, seemingly fully aware of the path of your gaze. His hand drops to his cock and he strokes himself casually, which very nearly sends your sprinting back to bed.

“You’re right,” you say, trying to keep your cool as you throw him your most beguiling look. “So you should probably hurry up.”

You turn and start walking toward the master bathroom. You don’t need to look over your shoulder to know he’s following you, his gaze hungrily devouring every inch of skin, eyes dark with purpose.

You walk into the master bathroom and are immediately confronted by several flagrant violations of the residential handbook. The TVA is many things, but it is not the sort of place that deviates from set floor plans, nor is it the sort of place that deviates from those plans to install a rainfall shower and soaking tub—in marble, no less.

You think of the stark, vaguely institutional aesthetic in your own master bath and you can’t decide if you’re annoyed at his rule breaking or jealous that he could get away with it.

“I’m not even going to ask if you got approval for this setup because I know you didn’t,” you say as you reach in to the shower to turn on the tap.

“Do you think of anything other than that cursed personnel manual?” he asks as he comes up behind you, his arms snaking around your waist and his lips again finding your neck as he draws you to him.

“First of all, it’s not the personnel manual, it’s the residential handbook, which you specifically agreed to abide by when you signed off on your lease.”

He turns you around so you face him and draws you close, a wicked gleam in his eye, “Oh, I’m going to make you forget all about those ridiculous rules.”

“That’s a pretty tall order—oh.”

His hand is slipping between your legs, stroking your already slick folds.

“I think I’m quite capable of inspiring other passions,” he says, rolling his fingers in a broad circle over the hood of your clit

You loop your arms around his shoulders. You can already feel your knees starting to tremble, but you know he won’t let you fall.

“Bold claim,” you say, “I’m going to need more evidence.”

“Oh, you’re going to get a lot of evidence,” he says softly. He curls a finger inside of you, pressing his thumb against the hood of your clit. “You will have no doubts by the time I’m done presenting my argument. You will be weak-kneed with evidence.”

You shudder as he rocks his hand slowly. He’s touching you enough to stoke the flames of desire, making your hips rock helplessly toward his hand as you try to create that extra friction and pressure that you know will send you flying over the edge. But Loki is meticulous—perhaps even ruthless—about not giving in.

“Not yet,” he murmurs softly when your latest attempt is thwarted. “Slowly.”

Your pleas become louder and more frequent, but his answer remains the same: slowly. You whimper and beg, but he is resolute.

Steam has fogged up the mirrors and is curling around you when your orgasm finally begins to crest. You suddenly find yourself grateful for his pacing as the intensity builds to a level that makes your knees shake.

“That’s it,” he breathes as you tremble in his arms. “You can come for me now, lovely.”

Like magic, the coil inside you snaps at his command and you cry out as your cunt shudders around his slowly thrusting fingers. Your arms looped around his shoulders are the only thing keeping you standing.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss against your temple as you sag against him. “Beautiful.”

He gives you a moment to get your bearings before leading you into the shower. He sits down on the marble bench, spreading his thighs wide and pulling you into his lap so you straddle his hips. The spray of the water hits your back as he kisses you again, slow and hungry.

You love everything about this. The heat of the water on your back. The closeness. The way his thighs are spread wide. How his cock presses against your bare cunt. The noise he makes low in his throat when you start rubbing yourself against him.

“Need you,” he mumbles against your neck. His hands squeeze your hips and you reach between the two of you to line his cock up at your entrance.

It occurs to you that you could take the opportunity to tease him, to make him beg for you, but pretending that you have any control over your aching need for him is several degrees beyond impossible. So instead, you slowly ease yourself down onto his cock while he groans against your neck, dragging his lips down to the curve of your shoulder.

The feeling of him inside you is still so new that it feels just a little unreal. After all that wanting and yearning and thinking that he was too handsome, too divine, too out of reach to have, he’s suddenly yours and it’s absolutely dizzying.

You pause for a moment, eyes closed, savoring the feeling of unyielding fullness, of connection. Of him.

“All right?” he asks softly.

You open your eyes and his look of sweet concern makes your heart swell. “Yeah,” you say, a lazy, satisfied smile tugging at your lips. “I just—I needed a moment. You feel—” You pause for a moment, searching for the right words, sifting through the effusive and flowery and the things that are true but too early to say. “You just feel really good,” you say.

It sounds wildly inadequate, but he seems to understand, to hear all of the unsaid parts that you’re keeping close to your heart. He could turn away, say it’s too much too soon, that you haven’t even said what you are yet, much less committed to anything serious, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leans forward, drawing you into a slow kiss, his hands framing your face, tracing the curve of your cheek and jaw with the kind of reverence that makes you want to say everything you feel.

“You’re perfect.” He says it in between breaths, with such a disarming sincerity that you can’t bring yourself to try and deflect, to name a flaw or even make a joke.

Later, he will tell you that he was struggling with a similar battle, trying to reconcile how new this was with the depth of feeling that was already blossoming in his chest. He will tell you later that he couldn’t believe you were his, just as you couldn’t believe he was yours, that there was something about you that felt right in a way that made him feel like he knew even then.

But right now, he simply kisses you with a fervor that makes your toes curl and your hips start to move.

It’s only the second time that you’ve done this, but there’s a strange blend of both the new and the familiar. The shape and feel of his body pressed against yours is new, but the way that he moves, the way that he touches you is as though he’s loved you for centuries.

The rhythm you fall into is slow, despite the excuse that this shower was to save time. His hand slides down your stomach, his fingers finding your clit to add another layer of bliss to the feeling of his cock inside you. Despite your slow pace, your ascent rushes in fast and brilliant as a comet blazing through the night sky. Your back arches, almost as though you’re presenting yourself as an offering to him as you come undone in his arms. Loki watches you with a kind of breathless wonder, brow furrowing in pleasure, his lower lip caught between his teeth at the tight clench of your cunt around his cock.

Your legs are rubbery with pleasure, but you keep going because you need his release as much as your own. You need to feel him empty himself inside of you, to hear the low groan he makes as he unravels, to see the way his eyes flutter shut. You want crescent moon marks on your hips from where his hands gripped you too tightly in that final ascent, physical proof that you can make not just a god forget himself, but Loki specifically. Loki with all his masks and tricks and artful poise; Loki laid bare below you, free from all artifice and glibness, raw and real and just as he is. All the parts of him that make you think that down this path lies something wonderful (not that you’re ready to call it love. Yet).

But Loki is nothing if not predictably unpredictable and he seems determined to make you work before granting you that little glimpse at the heaven that is the god of mischief coming undone beneath you.

“Let me feel you come again,” he murmurs as soon as you catch your breath.

“Is once not enough?” you say, trying and failing to sound cool and calm, like you’re not completely wrecked for him.

“Hardly.” His eyes flash in a way that makes you shiver as he urges your hips into a faster rhythm. “I am not so easily satisfied when my need has been so great.”

You can feel the coil in your hips beginning to tighten again.

“I’ve burned for you for years, my love,” he says, his voice going a little shaky. “Would you deny water to a man dying of thirst?”

You shake your head, your words lost to the oncoming wave of your undoing.

“Then do not deny me your pleasure, I am desperate for you.” He’s panting, barely holding on to his composure. “Now come for me again, let me feel you.”

You are so far gone that it only takes a few more strokes to make you come undone and the first shudder of your climax takes Loki with you.

You savor his pleasure more than your own release, memorizing the sound he makes, the way his lips form a silent plea in the shape of your name until he slides a hand up your neck and pulls you down to kiss him.

His kiss is fierce and hungry at first, but it ebbs to something slower and sweeter as he empties himself into you. He sighs as you tangle your fingers in the wet tendrils of his hair.

It’s a long moment later when you finally break the kiss, resting your forehead against his.

“I don’t think we saved any time,” you say.

He doesn’t even open his eyes. “I cannot overemphasize how much I do not care about being late in these circumstances.”

You grin. “Not even a little?”

He kisses you sweetly on the mouth before opening his eyes, his lips curling into a slow and satisfied smile. “I would be late every day for the rest of my life for just a few seconds of that.”

His words spark something warm in your chest and you try to hide it with a wry look. “I’m not sure that you’re getting the better end of the deal.”

He kisses you softly. “You don’t know how good you feel.”

“You’re one to talk,” you murmur against his lips and he smiles as he deepens the kiss.

The warmth of his body pressed against yours and the feeling of him smiling as he kisses you is a kind of luxury you’ve never imagined. It takes you a while to untangle yourselves, but you can’t find it in yourself to move any faster.

The actual showering part of your shower is slow and unhurried and you find that Loki’s hands are equally gifted at these mundane tasks. His fingers have a knack for finding every stubborn knot in your neck and shoulders, which he explores leisurely under the pretext of washing your back. The press of his fingers unwinds the tension in your shoulders, loosening up muscles that have been too tense for too long.

“You are way too good at this,” you say.

“Just one of my many talents,” he says, dropping a kiss on your shoulder. “Though perhaps I ought to stop—I wouldn’t want to make you late.”

“I’m so relaxed I’m going to ignore that little bit of sass.”

He chuckles against your shoulder. “You’ll forgive me.”

“We’ll see.”

The sweet, almost chaste kisses he’s been pressing against your neck and shoulders are gradually growing slower, more insistent. When you feel the tip of his tongue draw a quick, teasing line on your neck, you know that you might be in trouble.

His hands slide to your waist, drawing you close enough that you can feel that he’s hard again.

“I’m sensing some ulterior motives,” you say.

“A bold accusation,” he mumbles against your neck, pressing himself more firmly against you.

“We can’t have sex again,” you laugh.

“Mmm, we could,” he says in between kisses. “There’s nothing stopping us from having sex again.”

“We are already running late—”

“I thought I was very clear about my feelings on timeliness in these circumstances.” He nips at your earlobe and you shiver. “And would you really deprive me of the utter bliss of coming undone inside you?”

“It’s more like rescheduling than depriving you of anything.”

“I’ve waited so long, darling.”

“We just had sex like…less than an hour ago,” you say through a laugh.

“Ah, but the days before that were so terribly long,” he says.

You turn to face him, thinking this will make things easier for you. This turns out to be a grave miscalculation because now you have to contend with the fire in his eyes and the twin flame that it summons low in your hips.

Fuck.

You are definitely going to have sex again.

His eyes glitter like he knows and he slowly walks you backwards until you’re pressed between him and the shower wall.

“You are absolutely incorrigible,” you say as he peppers your neck with slow, decadent kisses. “I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

“Funnily enough, I don’t think you’ll be complaining about my mouth in about thirty seconds.”

And with a wicked and hungry grin, he slowly sinks to his knees.

It’s 10:48am when you finally walk into the office.

Even though you are now several hours later than you intended and the stack of files is no less imposing, you feel nothing but a pleasant glow of happiness as you take your seat. Loki sits down in the chair next to you and this time, he sneaks his foot underneath your desk and hooks his ankle under yours.

He catches your eye and smiles. “I can be a little more obvious now.”

You put on your most exaggerated expression of mock seriousness. “Only a little. This is a workplace, after all.”

He adopts a similar expression and nods. “Of course. I imagine there will be paperwork as well.”

“There actually is a form we’ll need to file with HR,” you say.

Loki frowns. “Wait, you’re not being serious about that, are you?”

“Yep. We’ll need to file it by next Friday.”

He sighs and throws his hands up in the air. “Is there anything that this place hasn’t managed to weigh down with the burden of unnecessary bureaucracy?”

“I see we’re in a good mood this morning.” Mobius has arrived, cup of coffee in hand. He nods at Loki and looks at you. “How long has he been raging against the machine?”

“Not terribly long,” you say as Loki rolls his eyes.

“It’s not raging against anything,” he says. “I just fail to see the point of some of this organization’s operational practices.”

Mobius raises an eyebrow at you. “You told him he has to fill out a form, huh?”

“Got it in one,” you say as Loki scowls.

Mobius chuckles and takes a sip of coffee. “You should hear him during performance evaluation season. I get entire monologues. It’s like Hamlet meets HR.”

Loki’s scowl deepens and you have to bite the inside of your cheek in order not to laugh.

“It looks like you made good progress, though,” says Mobius, looking at your completed stacks of files. “I took a look at what you pulled earlier this morning and there’s some good stuff.”

“Oh, good,” you say, hoping he doesn’t think much of the fact that neither one of you was in the office earlier this morning. “What time do you think you’ll need the rest done?”

“Right, about that,” says Mobius. You steel yourself for bad news. “I took a look at what you pulled so far and I think I’ve got what I need.”

You blink at him. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah, you’re off the hook,” he says. “Go enjoy the rest of your weekend.”

You look at Loki, who looks just as pleasantly surprised as you feel.

“In fact, you can take the rest of the week off,” says Mobius. “Triple overtime, right? You earned the time.”

“This feels like a trick,” says Loki. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” says Mobius. “You did good work.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “However—”

“And there’s the catch,” says Loki.

“There’s no catch,” says Mobius. He gestures at you with his coffee cup. “I’m just going to need you both to turn in the relevant paperwork to HR by next Friday.”

Loki sighs, though you can tell he’s fighting a smile. “There’s absolutely no privacy here.”

Mobius raises his eyebrows. “You’re playing footsie under the desk. It’s not exactly rocket science.”

You look at Loki and shrug. “He’s got a point.”

“You’re taking his side?”

You roll your eyes and stand up. “Well, you can sulk about it if you’d like, but I’m going to go enjoy the rest of my weekend.” You share a sly, secret smile with Mobius. “I’ll see you next week, Mobius.”

It takes Loki approximately twenty seconds to catch up with you.

“And you say I’m incorrigible,” he says as he falls into step beside you.

You smile at him. “I think you’ll get over it.”

“I’ll consider it.” He catches your band, fingers twining with yours. “What are your plans for the rest of the week?”

“Hadn’t decided,” you say, biting back a smile. “Did you have any suggestions?”

“Well, I’d like to start by going back to bed.”

“To sleep?” you tease.

“Eventually.” He licks his lips. “And since our respective schedules have been cleared for the week, we’ll be able to take our time.”

The hunger in his eyes is still so new and intoxicating that you can’t help the shiver that works its way up your spine.

You give him a slow smile. “Lead the way.”

#loki smut #loki x reader smut #loki x reader #loki laufeyson smut #loki x female reader #loki x female reader smut #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #tva loki x reader #overtime series

936 notes · View notes

plorpl · 8 months

Text

More info (and insane screenshots) from the House MD DS game for those who want to know.

Way, way too much info under the break!!

The game took me about 5 hours to play total, including pauses for screenshots and cackling laughter. There are 5 cases, and each one has: the main case, a clinic patient, and a small subplot about Cuddy that strings through all 5 cases and concludes at the end of the game. It's extremely linear. To solve the case, you do activities when you are prompted, each having its own types of mini games. Activities include: examining the patient, ddx-ing, running tests, running labs, questioning the patient/friends/family, and searching houses/other areas for clues. All of these mini games suck. The best one is when House has to have an epiphany so you play brick breaker with his brain:

WHEN YOU DDX THEY USE THE MOUSE BITES PHOTO

You'll notice here that the visuals are a little uncanny valley. The likenesses are... not good.

The worst offender is 13, who always looks just a little bit off.

One of my favorite parts of the game is that you get graded on your performance and if you do bad, Cuddy doms you.

And when you do good, Wilson kind of negs you?? Feels like the people who made this game were obsessed with him (same). The contrast in these two screenshots really gets me.

More insane top screen screenshots without context:

Honestly, some of my favorites need both screens to really be appreciated:

I do not recommend playing it, really. These are the best parts, and the game itself is slow and can be frustrating. There is also... a lot of problematic nonsense. Worse than the show. Not going to try to make excuses here.

That being said, it's surreal. House is like a bad stand up comic for most of the game, and so much is out of character - House visits the patient FIRST THING every case, the whole team misses very obvious deductive leaps, there's no gay sex, etc, etc, etc. But at the same time, the people who made the game clearly had a love for the show. It follows the typical structure of an episode faithfully and has some detailed, satisfying visuals in it. Everyone's clothes change each episode, even in their little bottom of the screen sprites. This Wilson makes me happy with his show-accurate mug and hand gesture:

And there are some nice interiors/exteriors of the hospital and better rendered pictures that make me smile:

It made me and my friends laugh a lot. And it also makes me a little sad. I spent a lot of my childhood playing shitty licensed games like this (remember the madagascar one???), but they are mostly a thing of the past. I know they were cash-grab trash, but it's odd that there's this genre of game that doesn't really get made any more. I guess what I'm saying is that I'm glad this game exists.

Anyway, here's an upsetting House and Wilson for the road:

#house md #hate crimes md #ds game #house md ds

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lizard-on-a-window-pane · 11 months

Text

The Reading Chair

pairing: Remus x reader

tags / warnings: NSFW! (minors do not interact), smut, smut, and… more smut; established relationship, sex, fem!reader, slight praise kink

notes: written as a continuation of my previous fic, but either can be read alone; the only context is that in this au remus and reader opened a bookshop together

word count: 2.9k

“I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for coming in,” you say with a smile to the last customer of the day. You’re completely knackered as you turn the sign from “open” to “closed” behind her. It had been a hectic day, the kind you were grateful for in the grand scheme of it all but ready to wrap up by its end. You’re rubbing your tense neck as you make your way back over to the counter, where there remains work to be done. You’re having to read the words and numbers over and over again to make sense of them, your mind not in it at all, as you look guiltily over at your book sitting beckoningly next to your paperwork. A break won’t hurt, you think to yourself. I’ll still get all this done later. I just need a little energy first. You snatch up the book and head to your comfy armchair in the corner, delving into the next chapter that you’ve so eagerly been anticipating.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been reading when you hear the door open and close. You see his messy brown hair over the shelves before you see him fully.

“Y/N?” Remus’s voice calls. “Hey, Rem,” you speak up. He walks past the counter, around the shelves to your reading nook and leans against them, observing you intently with an adoring grin on his face. You stick your tongue out at him.

Laughing, he tells you, “You know… When I think of you when we’re apart,” he starts moving slowly toward you. “Which is most of the time when we’re apart, if I’m honest…” A self-satisfied chuckle as he gets closer. “I usually picture you right here. As you are, right now.” He kneels in front of your chair and gives you a quick kiss in greeting. “So beautiful.” His eyes travel your face. “With your nose in a book.” He grabs your book from you and places it on the table. You go to complain, but he stops you with a knowing look, a cheeky grin, and continuing, “And your legs in this weird position you find so comfortable.” He’s chuckling as he runs his hands up and down your thighs. You uncross your legs and let them rest on either side of him; he keeps rubbing them. You wrap your arms around his neck. “Is that so?” you tease. “Mmhmm,” he confirms, kissing you again, lingering longer this time.

“I usually think of you naked,” you tell him, and he breaks into a barking laugh.

“Oh yeah?”

“Hm,” you nod, smiling warmly at him. He moves his hands up your sides and rubs your shoulders a bit. You let out a long, loud sigh you didn’t realize you had pent up. “Long day?” he asks knowingly. You just nod. It’s a little odd with his sitting in front of you, but he begins massaging your neck and shoulders. “I’m sorry I had to go during the rush,” he says sincerely. “Don’t be silly, Rem. That was for work, too. And it’s good — really good — business going up. And I can handle it.” “I know you can, lovely, but I don’t like seeing you so drained.” His hand caresses your face then rests in your hair and scratches at your scalp soothingly. It feels wonderful, sending tingles down your spine. You hum and lean into it. With your eyes closed, you miss the way his eyes travel down your torso. His grip in your hair gets a little bit tighter and his thumb traces the curve of your jaw. “I can help you relax, you know…” He sounds different. You open your eyes and see the way he’s looking at you.

“Oh?” Oh.

“Mmm.” His sound is guttural, and you’re not sure if it’s meant to mean “yes.” His hand on your hip tightens then slips under your shirt. “Here?” you ask, meaning to sound skeptical, sounding slightly desperate instead.

“I locked up behind me,” he tells you as he closes the distance between you and kisses you hard, his tongue immediately plunging into your mouth. You kiss him back ardently. His hand moves up your body, grazing your stomach then your chest, then resting on your neck. His hands now on either side of your face, he holds you firmly before gripping it and moving your head sideways, kissing down your jaw and neck slowly and sloppily. He stops at the sensitive spot below your ear and sucks. You moan and inadvertently rut forward. You feel his smile against your now moist skin. His teeth graze over your pulse point, and he keeps heading lower, pulling your shirt down out of his path as he kisses his way to your collar bone. He licks across it then just nuzzles into the crook of your neck. “I want to make you feel good,” he whispers hoarsely, and your whole body shivers in response.

“Remus,” you sigh. “I want to. Fuck, I want to. But maybe we should wait till we go home.” You’d messed around at the shop before, but never further than this. He shakes his head “no” where it rests flush with your body and kisses your neck as he says, “Uh-uh. Too long.” He leans back, pulls your shirt over your head, and connects your lips again urgently. You melt into him and kiss him back with matching passion. His hands are everywhere as you make out then they come to rest on your bare hips as he stops the kiss but stays close, his forehead resting on yours, his breathing heavy.

Staring into your eyes, the hint of a smile across his swollen lips, he moves his fingers painstakingly slowly up your back. You’re slightly sweaty and extremely turned on, and you shiver again at his touch. He bites his lower lip as he unfastens your bra. You feel the weight of the loss of the support, and it feels nice. His hands come up to the straps and they pull them down equally slowly. The slightest motion would make the cups fall forward now, but you stay still, staring at him from under lidded eyes and long lashes. His hands come up to where your chest becomes your breasts, and his fingers caress down with a light touch until he reaches the tops of your bra cups. He continues the motion seamlessly, dragging the fabric down until it drops into you lap. His hands still floating above your breasts, featherlight touches electric, he brings his thumbs to your quickly hardening nipples and runs them across once lightly then again roughly. You whimper in response, and he tweaks your nipples between his fingers, abandoning the teasing, pushing and tugging harshly. Your whimpers grow louder, and he swallows them with a rough kiss before quickly moving his head down and wrapping his lips around your hard nipple. Moaning as he sucks on your tit, he kneads the other, and you hold his head to you with a firm grip in his hair. He runs his tongue around and around the bud then gives it a long wet lick before sucking it into his mouth again and humming around you. You’re loud now as the pleasure shoots through you, and as he switches from one breast to the other, planting a kiss in between them along the way, he gruffly tells you, “Fuck, I love your noises,” and after sucking your other nipple harshly adds, “and your tits. Fucking hell your tits.” Your chuckle mutates into a screamy moan as he bites carefully down on your aching bud, his tongue playing with it between his teeth. He bites and licks, kisses and sucks, and when he’s through playing with you, he kneads your chest roughly with both hands as his mouth kisses yours forcefully. You squirm in the seat as you push your tongue into his mouth and your chest into his hands.

Both of your breathing is coming loud and laboured as he pulls back and stares at you for a moment. With his panting mouth open, he smiles brightly at you, brings his forehead back against yours, and moves his hands to the button of your trousers.

The idea of protesting flitters across your mind, but unable to find a good enough reason not to give in, a fraction of a second later, your hips are in the air to aid in his removal of your trousers. You’re sitting there in only your knickers, wet and panting, and he pulls further away than he has since he came down to you.

Looking you over with almost black eyes, he chuckles and says, “Sorry, love, but I have to commit this to memory. You’re so fucking hot, I think I’ll get off on this for the rest of my life.” You laugh lightly and ask, “Still going to think of me reading when we’re apart?” You stick your chest out and open your legs wider. His eyes rolling to the back of his head, he groans animalistically and instinctively grabs the bulge in his trousers at the sight.

“Sure I will, lovely. Just naked too.” And with that, he delves back into you, starting at your mouth and worshipping his way down your neck, your chest, your stomach, till his face was even with your cunt. He nuzzles it playfully, and you whine, your hand coming to his hair and pushing him into you as you rut up, making him chuckle darkly.

“Don’t worry baby,” he teases. “I’ll take care of you.” His tongue, strong and flat against you, licks over your panties from your opening to your pubic bone. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this wet before,” he says, high on it. You whimper and rut again.

He sneaks a finger into your underwear where it’s soaked at your entrance. He separates the fabric that clings to your skin with your wetness and caresses up and down your folds, examining your cunt with the utmost scrutiny as he does. You’d think you’d feel shy at this, but the look in his eyes and the feeling in your core set you on fire, and you fucking love it. You open your legs as wide as you can, and with an eyebrow quirked, he looks up at you and smiles. “Good girl,” he tells you for the first time ever, and you mewl loudly and melt into the chair. He’s surprised at the intensity of your reaction and tries it again. “You like being my good girl, Y/N? my best fucking girl?” You nod vehemently and your grip on the armchair threatens to damage it. “Fuck,” he laughs. “Then I’d better make my favourite girl feel good then, huh?”

He pulls your panties to the side and licks up your folds several times, lapping the dripping arousal. He detaches his mouth from your lower lips, and you whine, but he’s only swiftly ripping your knickers off before latching on again, moaning into you. He sticks his tongue in your hole, and you half gasp half scream in response. He continues fucking into you with more and more force, his nose sending godly pleasure through your clit with each thrust and shake of his face.

“Remus, Remus, Remus,” you pray, your thighs shaking. He hums into your hole then starts sucking on your labia till he reaches your clit and sucks there. You cum all over his face. He hums and sucks and vibrates as you scream. When your shakes become shivers, he pulls off, licks your cunt from bottom to top, plants a kiss on your clit, then brings his face back to yours. It’s shining with wetness like never before.

“You’ve never cum like that,” he says amazed. “You’ve never eaten me like that,” you retort. He’s biting his soaked, swollen bottom lip and beaming. He runs his tongue slowly around his lips, lightly humming at the taste of you. You whimper at the sight, and he chuckles. “I like you all whimpery like this,” he teases. You feel your cheeks warm and move your hands to your face, but before they even reach it, Remus grabs your wrists and pins them back down against the arms of the sofa chair. “Uh-uh, lovely. No hiding. You’re too pretty, and I’m too needy. I need to see you.” He stares into your face then looks you up and down, his gaze lingering on your still dripping cunt, your heaving tits, your blissed out face. “Holy fuck, you’re my goddess.”

You smile, equal parts shy and cheeky, and you confess to him, “I want to suck you off now,” with a boldness you hardly ever have in bed.

His eyes roll to the back of his head again, his knees weaken, and he pleads, “Please.”

You push him off of you and maneuver him into the chair. He’s yanking his shirt off while you pull his trousers down. When you’re both fully naked, without ado, you immediately wrap your lips around his rock-hard cock and start bobbing your head up and down. He whimper-yells in a way he never has before, and the sound propels you faster, deeper. Remus grunts rhythmically as you swallow him down, both hands in your hair, holding on for dear life, the occasional rough tug sending pleasure rippling down to your cunt. Your hands grip his thighs, vice-like despite the slipperiness of his now sweaty body. He lets out repeated “baby”s and “fuck”s and “please”s and “yes”s with increasing desperation, punctuating each sharp fast thrust of his hips.

You feel his thighs give a particularly violent shake, and knowing what that means, you pull off of him. The look on his face is of devastation, but his head goes back in excitement when he sees what you have in mind. You’re climbing onto him. He scoots down the armchair to give you some room to straddle him and brings his hands to your hips to help you in place and give some much needed stability.

Gripping the back of the chair, your other hand grabs his throbbing cock and guides it to your entrance. Remus is staring at where you’re about to be connected like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s seen in his whole life. To him, it is. You feel him enter you, and you clench in complete pleasure. He hisses sharply at the sensation of penetration and lets out a continuous “ahh” as you sink further and further down, your grip on his shoulder bruising. When he bottoms out, you clench and give a little bounce, and you smile at his desperate reaction. He’s nodding vigorously, biting his bottom lip, staring at your tits, gripping your hips with the full force of his strong hands. One of them goes up to clench your breast as you start bouncing on him, slow and hard for several thrusts before picking up the pace when you find a stable position. It feels incredible. The control you have over the drag of his cock against your walls drives you crazy both physically and psychologically. You bring your hips up and down repeatedly until you’re a whimpering, shaking mess above him.

Completely out of breath, he asks, “Can I?” You know what he means and nod, holding on tighter as he then starts thrusting feverishly up into you, fucking you in full force from below. It’s knocking you up and down vigorously, so you bend over more to rest your forearms on the back of the armchair. With this change in position, your tits are now smacking against each other with each thrust — right in front of Remus’s face. He goes feral for it, and starts sucking on one of them, his hands not leaving their grip on you but moving down to squeeze your arse as he pushes into you over and over.

From between your tits you hear — and feel — him give a distinctive yelp, and you rub aggressively onto him with every ounce of energy you have left, giving your clit the friction it needs to push you over the edge right along with him.

“Fuck!” he yells as your walls clench impossibly tighter and milk him of the cum that’s rushing out of him. You yelp at the sensation, and the strangled sound continues through the end of both your orgasms.

Your body gives, but Remus hums contentedly at the weight of you, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you with a chuckle. You lay like this for several moments, his hand running up and down your back, the slipperiness becoming stickiness as the chilly air licks at your still wet bodies. You shiver at it, but you’re so spent and so happy, you don’t struggle off of him yet. His softening cock still buried inside of you, Remus brings your face to his to give you a gentle kiss and adoring grin.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to relax in this chair again,” you whisper in a giggle. “I’ll get flustered just looking at it.” His laugh is warm and full, and he gives you a squeeze.

You kiss him and linger, and he says, “You know, with all the stress and everything…” a kiss, “I think it’d be good for us to make this our closing time routine.”

The sound of your laughter is muffled by his next kiss.

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