#something wrong with you if the only way u can manage a dog is to have it crated all night AND all day during a full work day
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Can you do Johnny and a Fem reader thats taller than him? I'm getting KINDA TIRED of the whole 'u look up at him' thing like... no I don't.
the prompt made me giggle bc i have a mk oc that's taller than most people LOL
johnny cage > improv
johnny meets his new partner in his upcoming action movie, he doesn't expect to be outshined.
notes: johnny's like 6'1 probably, so i'm making the reader somewhere around 6'4ish. just taller. like "look down at him" taller.
[ masterlist ]
a new action movie? hell yeah, no problem, johnny figured as he walked with a sway in his arms. walking onto this set and that set was something he was fairly used to, and he practically owned his little area in this particular studio, considering just how often he picked up their projects. what he didn't anticipate, though, was his usual spot by the temporary living space was taken up by a trailer that was most certainly not his. who uses that color on the exterior?
then again, he thought, maybe something changed. maybe his assistant rented a different model and he was supposed to try it out. so, like the gentleman he is, johnny tries the door to the trailer that opens with a firm click. the last thing he expected was to see a figure at the other end of the trailer, sitting at a screwed-in vanity and humming under their breath.
"excuse me," johnny calls out, crossing his arms as he takes a few more steps inside. "i believe we haven't met."
you swivel in your chair, removing the earbud that was settled in your ear. when you realize who you're talking to, you sit up straight.
"oh," you're surprised he just welcomed himself in. "hello. are... is there something you need?"
johnny swallows, a little weirded out by it all. "yeah, actually. uh... you're in my spot."
"your... spot?" you raise a brow, looking around for the imaginary chair he must have been referring to. "i don't follow."
johnny shakes his head. "it's... nevermind. this spot on the lot is usually for the lead role."
his comment makes your brows knit together. "i am the lead role."
you can see the gears turning in his head as he realizes what he got himself into. you're an A-List celebrity, just like him. johnny wasn't going to be the top dog like always. it all makes sense now, reading the script and realizing why all of the emails were cc'd and never directly sent to his manager; you're the lead, he's the secondary.
all johnny could do was step toward you, now looking down at you as you sat at the vanity. his expression is blank, though there is a flush of embarrassment on his cheeks for being wrong. god, he hates being wrong.
"oh, sorry," your hands grip the sides of the chair, snapping him and yourself from the silent tension. "suppose i should introduce myself."
you hoist yourself from being sat and tower over the actor so easily it's a shock his knees don't wobble out of nervousness. you're tall, so damn tall and it flusters him even further. he doesn't even realize your hand is outstretched, he's too busy swallowing thickly over your shadow overtaking his form.
"you're..." johnny trails off, finally attempting to shake your hand. "nice to... meet you. sorry, i—" he spins on his heel and exits the trailer with a slam. you chuckle, realizing he was covering his face sheepishly, raising his sunglasses to the top of his head. interesting first impression.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
shooting the first scenes came quickly after your introduction, the weirdness of it all still bothering johnny ever so slightly. as you stood side by side he couldn't help but steal nervous glances. his side eyeing was not only incredibly obvious but reminiscent of a dog.
he always thought he was into people smaller than him, considering he himself was a big guy. but the way you'd use your height to your advantage, or the times you could look over him, he was blushing like a maniac. tragically, one of the scenes you two were meant to shoot was one where your characters were in a heated argument.
"if we let them go now, this entire mission would have been for nothing!" his character shouts, running a hand through his hair and fidgeting with the prop gun on his hip. "i'm sorry, but i can't let you get in the way."
you weren't blind, you could tell your presence made him anxious. thankfully, just as his specialization is doing his own stunts, yours was improvisation. and boy, was now a time as ever to take advantage of this skill. letting out a faux-angered growl, you grab both of johnny's hands and slam them against the wall above his head. you lean down to get to his eye level, a snarl on your face that leaves johnny a stuttering mess. your frame was much larger than him, and with the way you bent down, he was completely caged within your grasp. you noticed the director stand up straight in amusement.
"listen here, you son of a bitch," you follow the script flawlessly, tone straight like you didn't pin your co-star to the wall. "you're gonna take an order and that's that, are we clear?"
johnny looked like he could agree to murder right about now. His eyes are hazy as he wets his lips and darts his eyes between yours. "loud and clear."
a loud "CUT!" saves johnny from further embarrassment, and you pull away from him like it was nothing. if the director was complimenting either of you, it fell of his deaf ears and johnny's far away gaze as his hand falls to his chest to check his racing heartbeat.
"you alright, lil guy?" you fold your arms and stand in front of him, a smirk toying at your lips, but you knew his fragile ego wouldn't be able to handle your full cockiness. however, you were sure the insertion of the nickname got to him like a metaphorical gunshot as he clutched the fabric of his shirt.
"peachy, doll." his grin was so strained he looked to be held at gunpoint. you had never seen an actor, of all people, to struggle this hard.
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You Know I Love It When You Beg
Pairing: Steven x fem reader
Summary: kinktober day 2, Public Play
Rating: 18+
Warnings/content: public play, vibrating toys (cock massager and insertable vibrator), Dom!Reader, Sub!Steven, teasing, cum in pants, cumming easily, who ever cums first gets fucked, mention of pegging, light mocking, name calling (just mild British insults), lmk if there's anything else i should add :).
Word count: 1,071
Credit: @automnepoet for proofreading ily.
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"Love, can we try something?"
Steven's voice echoes from the hallway as he approaches the kitchen where you're sat, phone in one hand and tea in the other.
"Mmmm depends... if it's anything like those cardboard tasting crisps, then absolutely not." You chuckle, but as you see Steven's nervous face your laughter is cut short, "Sure darling, what's up?" You put your mug down.
Steven chews the inside of his cheek (a habit you'd tried to get him out of months ago but to no avail) as he places the boxes on the table, sheepishly occupying the seat opposite you.
You examine one of them before holding it up next to your face. "Vibrators? Why are you so nervous about this? Not like we haven't used them before—"
"I wanna go out with them on, maybe to like, a posh restaurant or something," he quickly interjects. "I think it'll be... fun, if that's the right way to describe it. I'm sure I'll regret calling it that later." He chuckles a little uneasily.
"Oh."
The idea fills you with excitement, and that's evident by the grin that creeps across your face. "You sure you can handle that, sweetheart?" You batter your eyelashes at him and reach out to take his hands "You know how fast you cum."
Steven huffs in response. "All the more reason to do it! You're just as easy to work up, dear." He raises a brow at you before leaning closer "What's wrong, you scared?" The evil grin now plastered on his face instead.
"No! No... of course not— take that goofy look off your face—" you shove his head gently which results in a giggle from the man. "So you'll do it then?" He asks eagerly, and it's hard to say no to his stupid happy face.
You'd both agreed not to turn them on until you've actually reached the restaurant, otherwise it'd kind of ruin the whole fun of it… given how easy you both get worked up, despite how you argue that you don't.
Fortunately, you get seated in a somewhat closed off booth, and you notice how steven seems a little relieved at that.
"Steven."
"Yes, dear?"
"You look very handsome this evening." You compliment, and he's about to thank you for your kind words, but he's cut off by his hand slapping over his mouth.
"You bugger..." He manages to groan as he feels the vibrations already buzzing through his slacks.
You give him a smug look. "Oi, that's not a very nice way to talk me after i compliment you! Maybe I should turn it u—"
"No!" Steven's hand flies over your phone to protect his dignity. "Not yet... please." He breathes, giving those big puppy dog eyes that you always fall for.
"Oh baby, you know I love it when you beg."
That warrants a quiet whimper from Steven, and honestly you're surprised how he's already getting worked up over this; he must've been fantasizing about it for a long time.
Steven is patient though, always is, and that's one of the things you both love and absolutely hate about him, because he can edge you for hours sometimes, bring you to that cliff just to rip you away from it for the 6th time. He waits till you've relaxed before striking, waiting till you ask the waiter to take your orders to pounce on you.
A shiver runs up your back as you feel the buzzing perfectly stimulate your clit, the sudden feeling making you bite down on your lip hard. You briefly give Steven a death stare before continuing your order… only to feel him turn it up further. The vibrator is pressed against that sweet spot inside you, and you find it difficult to not rock back on it with the waiter breathing down your damn neck. You hide your moan with a cough and thankfully get through the order, and once the waiter is out of sight you turn Steven's all the way up.
His sly smirk is quickly wiped from his face as his hips buck forward instinctively and he hides his face in his hand.
"You prick," you mumble to him, now slightly rocking against the buzzing like you wanted to a couple of moments ago, "you handsome prick."
Steven looks at you, and you can see how fast his chest is rising and falling now, but the look he's giving you is one of complete submission; was it really that easy?
"Oh c'mon, you're not gonna cum yet are you, sweetheart?" You mock lightly while your hand rubs his shoulder. You lean in towards his neck and take in the smell of his cologne (your favourite one) before nipping the skin. "Don't cum Steven, I wanna get fucked tonight."
That, of course, only makes his situation worse, his face now beet red. "God, I can't help it, shit it feels so good." He moans softly and reaches for your phone to turn it down.
You let him, since you don't want it to be over too early… and you at least want your starter.
You're still rolling your hips towards the pleasure vibrating through your underwear when the waiter brings over your desserts, the starter and main having gone surprisingly easy despite both of you now huffing and arousal seeping through your underwear.
"Thank—yOU—" another moan hidden by a cough when Steven tries to embarrass you again.
You look at him darkly before running your hand over his thigh, resorting to the one thing that you know works on him; fuck cares if it's cheating.
"Please baby, I want you to cum for me..." you whisper in his ear with your best desperate tone, "Just want you to make a mess in your underwear, can you do that for me, sweetheart?"
And boom, that's all he needed as he shrinks in on himself and hunches over, his body shaking a little while his hips wildly buck against thin air. He can't moan, but there's pants reminiscent of whimpers that leave his lips, until eventually he calms down.
"Good boy." You praise and pepper kisses over his neck and cheek, hand running up and down his back comfortingly.
"I want you bent over the bed when we get home, yeah?"
All Steven can do is nod enthusiastically, his cock already growing hard again at the thought of you fucking him just the way he loves.
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Prompts by: @/flightlessangelwings
Tagging people: @cowboymarcs @sad1st1c-wh0re @poopoobuttsy @boredzillenial @mllover260 @simpforbritgents @saevenswelt @partssoldseparately @keira-kaz2y5 @theincredibleinkspitter @l-lune @red-hydra
#moon knight smut#moon knight fanfiction#moon boys#moon knight#kinktober#steven grant#steven grant smut#steven grant x reader
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I just saw the arcade post and pleaaasee can we get more? Something like arcade reacting to couriers that can speak Latin/or all of the companions reacting to someone that can speak Latin. Ty!
FNV Companions Reacting to a Courier That Speaks Latin
➼ Word Count » 0.7k
➼ Warnings » None
➼ Genre » Platonic/Romantic
Boone will actually pull a gun on you when you say something within his earshot. Even if it was some off-comment thing that some scholar said years ago. He associates the language with the Legion, so you'll have to very quickly explain yourself before he pulls the trigger on you. He'll hesitantly put the gun back down when you do, muttering an apology as he does so. He does feel bad about jumping the gun on you so fast, but you have to understand that it's a knee-jerk reaction from all his years working with the NCR and fighting Legionaries. He doesn't think he'll ever see the language the same way again. It only brings back bad memories, and he'll probably ask if you didn't speak it as much around him. If nothing else, then for his own sanity.
Arcade is... caught off guard? You're either from some sort of Legion territory or, you're a Follower he's never heard about, and he's terrified of it being the latter. He'll be very interested in talking to you further despite his lingering concerns. If you've learned Latin, you probably know many other things, and he'd love to find out how far your knowledge truly goes. He wants to pick your brain apart and see what's hiding underneath and would be glad, ecstatic even, to follow along with you, just to see where it'd take him. It's not every day he meets someone else who has similar interests to his own.
Raul doesn't really care, he just thinks it's neat. Not many wastelanders he meets are educated enough to be able to speak another language, and he's impressed that you managed to accomplish such a feat. Although, he does wish it could've been Spanish instead of a dead language only the slavers speak. He'll give you shit for it, but he's impressed nonetheless.
Lily doesn't understand a word you're saying and just assumes her schizophrenia is acting up again. That being said, she mostly just shrugs her shoulders and nods. She might not know what's happening, but she's sure that she'd probably agree with whatever you're saying.
Cass just rolls her eyes when she first hears you talking. Of course, she's traveling with a nerd. Don't take it the wrong way, she's not trying to be mean, but what is knowing Latin going to do you in the Mojave? Anyone who still speaks it also speaks English, so it's pretty much useless. All that time you spent studying the language could've been spent doing... well, anything else, and she thinks you're a little stupid for not considering that beforehand. It's not a deal breaker for her, she'll still travel with you, but she's definitely not as impressed as some of the others would be.
Veronica's more confused than anything. They don't speak that back at Hidden Valley, and she hasn't exactly heard the best things about the people familiar with the language. That's not to say she isn't interested in learning more about you or where you even learned to speak it. She's out here specifically to learn more about others, and you seem to be a good start. She'd even be willing to learn a few phrases from you. She's caught off guard but not entirely turned off by the idea.
ED-E will just beep back. You can't fully understand him, and he can't fully understand you. He sees this as a perfectly balanced relationship. Although a few others in the Divide also speak that language, and lucky for you, he remembers where they are. So, he has no issues guiding you straight toward them. Maybe you could be friends!
Rex is more attentive to your orders. His memories from before being The King's dog are a bit foggy but, when he hears you speak Latin, there's a part of him that remembers those words. Or, at least, the tone. Ceasar spoke a lot of Latin to him when he was under his care, and he may inadvertently associate you with the image he formerly had of him: powerful and demanding. He'll be sure to follow your orders thoroughly.
#fallout#fallout new vegas#fnv#courier six#fnv companions reactions#fnv companions#craig boone#boone fnv#arcade gannon#arcade fnv#raul tejada#raul fnv#lily bowen#lily fnv#veronica santangelo#veronica fnv#rose of sharon cassidy#cass fnv#ed-e#rex fnv#courier 6
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heyyyyyyy!! so i saw that your reqs were open and thought id throw one in since YK- LOVE UR WORK!
and ik ive been requesting this kind of thing only (if u dont wanna do it for this reason, i understand!!) but- Could I please have a Yanplatonic Mephisto/Lucifer/Amaimon x Reader?
This time could you maybe do it with Reader being human, An exwire and completely unrelated to them at all. They hate demons with a passion, But somehow these mfs suddenly decide "yep, new sibling" and surprise adopt kidnap her?
Thanks for considering!! Love your work, Make sure to take breaks if tired!
-TML
YES!!!working on this kind of this is what make Requests so fun!Amaimon will be kind of funny to write🤣 thanks for the Request ❤️
PD: for some reason i imagine this Reader has some Shinobu personality? It's hinch.
Platonic Yandere Mephisto Pheles,Lucifer and Amaimon x Ex-wire! Reader
Genre: Headcanons
Reader: female
Warnings: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, PLATONIC YANDERE, OBSESIVE BEHAVIOR, MENTIONS OF BREAKING READER, FORCED FAMILITY, the three of them TOGHETHER on the title is NOT enough warning?? Illuminati, Amaimon is Mean sometimes--
SPOILERS FROM THE MANGA!!!
As said above, (reader) has a very complicated past with demons, to the point of hating them.
It can honestly be anything, whether your family has been affected by the blue night, by District 13 or simply that your parents have been exorcists who have died in the line of duty.
In any case, (reader) ended up developing a great hatred towards these creatures and decided that she would become an exorcist, in order to get out all that pent-up rage.
In general, I imagine this (reader) as a quite aggressive person and has trouble opening up, so she gets her emotions out through outbursts of anger.
but at the same time he is very intelligent, he uses his environment to his advantage and knows how to take advantage of his resources.
He has what we call "street smarts"
I have no idea who would be the one to take care of (reader) during her training before being Ex-wire, although with her personality, she would run away from any caregiver she had.
(I think the only exception would be Angel because 1- he is strong like that and 2- they share a similar hatred towards demons).
(reader) manages to enter the Ex-wire class, and stands out both for better... and for worse.
First of all, her classmates have a difficult time trying to talk to her (even Shiemi) precisely because of her closed attitude, in addition to the fact that she has constant friction with Izumo and even with Bon.
and most importantly she feels something strange with Rin...
(reader) doesn't know what it is, but she already hates it.
The only one safe from his outbursts is practically Konekomaru (and the weird kid with the puppets, whatever his name is).
It is because of this very fuss that it causes that it ends up attracting the wrong attention.
Mephisto is the first to have interest in (reader)
Not from the beginning as such, no no, although Mephisto had noticed her completely wild attitude compared to her companions (which he found hilarious to say the least) I think it would not be the trigger for him to become interested in (female reader).
I think it's only until (the reader) gets to share her experience, her horrible past with demons, the pure, burning HATE she has for them, that Mephisto finds her very interesting.
Oh humans, so diverse and with many facets~
but Mephisto definitely liked how open she (reader) was in her hatred, that she wasn't looking for moral supremacy or anything like that, she just wanted blood and she loves that!
so he tries to approach in a very unsubtle way and see more of that side knowing how much she hates demons.
appearing out of nowhere in the hallways to scare her and make her curse him, appearing in his dog form in her room to parasite (and then being kicked out) and a long etc.
In this way he not only became involved in the life of (the reader) but also learned more about her in the process, giving emphasis to the growing obsession.
Mephisto wants to know more about this "problematic" student who has caught his interest, whether it is having her academic record or all the information he has and whatever he has, he is not satisfied until he has it all.
It's almost as if I had replaced reading manga with the history of (reader)😅🤣
In this way, now every time he ran into (the reader), Mephisto made jokes and pranks that were increasingly more personal, more intimate.
and that is very scary.
apart from the fact that he behaves in a more... sticky way with (reader).
and that is VERY obvious.
He greets you with a HUG or a pat on the head (no, he doesn't care if you bite him or try to hit him).
and he is even the first to ask (reader) to call him "Oni-chan"
(how fucking disgusting--)
Mephisto is like the older brother who constantly bothers you.
and it is very difficult to get out of its grip.
Do you try to go outside the bedrooms? appears in the form of a dog.
Do you try to go for a walk around campus? appears randomly. It is impossible to surprise him.
But he does have something like an agent that helps him keep (the reader) in line.
That's when Amaimon comes in.
Honestly, he wouldn't be interested in (reader) at first, even though his older brother seemed to have an interest in her.
So, when he told him to keep an eye on her, he didn't think much of it other than it was a nuisance.
While Amaimon finds the task of "taking care of (reader)" annoying, he can't really do much against his brother. Although I think that to have fun from time to time he would make some things happen to (reader) just to make her angry. Like trowing insects at her or even leaving Creepy ass things in her locker.
It's boring for him, better than being a hamster, but extremely boring, so he starts picking on her.
She clearly sees him and curses him every time she sees him about to do something "mischievous" to her or when she hears him commenting on how "weak she is" in training. He thinks it's funny to see her all grumbling.
although eventually it becomes more than that.
Amaimon seems quite carefree, but as time goes by, he takes his "task" of "protecting" (reader) more seriously.
After all, being so weak, who else could take care of her?
He is one of the first to kill for the "well-being" of (reader).
I mean, he can do it as long as it's not one of the Okumura brothers, let him have some fun.
at the same time that he begins to want to have more interaction with (reader) beyond making her angry.
fight, for example.
After all, there must be something about her that caught her older brother's attention. Maybe she has something that he doesn't realize?
although without knowing it he is only falling into the same obsessive trap as his brother.
Once Amaimon becomes a student, rest assured that he will be glued to (reader) and insist that they fight, but she either tells him to fuck off every time or tries to escape from his grasp, without success.
It's like the meme of "fight me You nerd ass punk"🤣
Although don't get me wrong, I think he would be the most manageable of the three, even the "best" brother as far as possible.
(Bonus if you are a distant relative of Shiemihaza, maybe it would explain why Mephisto likes to mess with you so much, to screw with the Vatican)
He already understood that he can't make (the reader) fight with him by bothering her, so now he's simply trying to "figure out" what the hell he does to get there.
although at the same time, being as carefree as he is, he doesn't have so much problem giving (the reader) some time alone and can even distract Mephisto for a while so that she is less irritable.
Amaimon discovers that he actually likes it when (reader) talks and doesn't just grunt.
He's like that awkward brother but if you do him a favor he'll have your back, more or less.
Because he wants you to spend time with him.
It makes (the reader) at least watch him fight if she's not going to fight him.
I think Lowkey wants to show her how strong he is because well, Ego. but it is also a way to measure the strength of (reader) by her reactions. And intimation
although I doubt this (reader) will be intimidated.
He is definitely the first to suggest eliminating (reader's) entire family if she has one left :)
He's not really a fan of (reader) calling him a brother like Mephisto, but he demands the respect of an older brother and at some point he won't let (reader) walk all over him.
Mephisto and him argue about whether it's a good idea to let him (reader) fight him or not, precisely because Mephisto doesn't want him to get hurt.
and Amaimon WANTS to understand what made him become so attached to her. Maybe by fighting he will understand.
NOW, THE MAIN COURSE.
LUCIFER
(reader) at first would only know him from certain mentions of Amaimon that came to nothing, but when the Illuminati's declaration of war occurs or in any case something related to section 13, she understands everything...
There's a small chance that Shima told the Illuminati about (reader) seeing how "close" she was to Mephisto, which would make Lucifer interested.
Why are his brothers so interested in a completely human student who isn't even related to them?
(reader: same man, same)
So naturally he makes them investigate (reader) to understand why out of nowhere his brothers seem so attached to a simple human.
Who knows, maybe it will serve the Illuminati in some way.
(ignoring the hypothetical case of being a descendant of ShiemiHaza) when Lucifer does not find anything really relevant in his search, he is more doubtful than before, but he reasons, perhaps the human has some kind of ritual that only Mephisto knows about.
There HAS to be something that makes his brother like this.
For the same reason, if Lucifer tries to ask Mephisto directly, he becomes very defensive, telling him to stay away from the students and especially from (the reader).
which only gives him more motivation to want to know more about her.
so 1- seeing that she really doesn't want to be with Mephisto and Amaimon orders Shima to recruit her or 2- (more likely) he directly kidnaps her during the declaration of war on the true cross :)
Be that as it may, (reader) ends up on the Illuminati ship more deranged than ever, and well, it makes sense, now they not only harass her, chase her and pull her from one place to another, but they kidnap her!
Even if Lucifer maintains manners and courtesy, as soon as (the reader) realizes that he is a demon, he becomes wild and tries to get out by all possible means, including jumping off the ship!
Fortunately, Homare constantly watches her and, to his relief, she is not very talkative.
But Lucifer is still quite confused. If this human has absolutely nothing special then why is he important?
although he understands a little better when Mephisto demands that he return his "sister"
Ah, so that was it. family ties.
He is the quickest to accept that (reader) is something like a new brother, so as soon as he finds out this new information, he goes to (reader) and demands to know EVERYTHING about her.
likes, dislikes, what his life was like, his abilities, his weaknesses, whatever, his most obsessive side comes to light.
and (reader) is so confused that she barely answers 1/4 of the questions.
Now, Lucifer is like combining Mephisto and Amaimon.
He is very protective, but he is not on top of (reader) all day (at least not the same one, Homare is usually the one who watches the reader)
He wants (reader) to treat him like an older brother and be referred to as such, but he doesn't force her.
uses a similar approach as with Yukio. He slowly attracts her so that she gets used to HIM.
but it doesn't mean it's not bad.
If (reader) still has a family, he will use them as a constant threat against (reader) to improve her attitude and behavior, he is not above killing them if he feels particularly jealous.
Although I think he would kill (reader)'s sibilings if she had them. After all, she already has him and his brothers, humans could never be equal.
He doesn't spend as much time with (reader) as the other two, but he makes up for it with PRETTY expensive gifts and things he knows she likes (from stalking her).
I think he would only return (reader) if a kind of agreement is reached with Mephisto, in which they both share (reader) and Amaimon goes with her when she is with both of them, that way Mephisto can ensure that Lucifer returns (reader) (reader) and vice versa.
I know this was about their relationship as brothers with (reader) but it reminds me a lot of divorced parents who share custody of their children... although of course, these parents are crazy.
going straight all together, it's not as bad as one would think.
Mephisto is the biggest pain in the ass, that's for sure. He is VERY POSSESSIVE of (reader) to an almost ridiculous point.
He likes to put clothes similar to him, it's a way of "showing dominance" and he likes to think that this way they seem more like a family.
Being with him prepare yourself for a lot of unwanted physical contact and to spend HOURS watching your former classmates suffer from his tricks and be left on the sidelines because you can no longer even carry a weapon...
INFANTILIZATION AT MAXIMUM POWER, he loves to pamper (the reader) and act as if she were a little girl, either because it amuses him to see her angry or because for someone who is thousands of years old like him, she IS indeed a baby.
he reacts VERY badly to rules being broken, if (reader) wants to save herself from punishment (most likely having broken bones, even if he speeds up time so it's not THAT bad, it's horrible) she should go to Amaimon.
He's the best, I already said it.
more than anything because he "understands" better the situation of stress under the thumb of his older brother and now he can understand affection a little better, even if it is still toxic.
but don't be fooled.
If he sees the slightest possibility that (reader) is going to leave him, then he will tell Mephisto or Lucifer to ruin any plan, that's how he is.
apart from the fact that he follows (reader) s everywhere to "inform" Mephisto and Lucifer of his well-being. and it is impossible to lose him, he has a connection with the entire earth and a great ability to find what he wants. Do not even try.
although as long as you give him some affection and treats, he's actually quite manageable, not clingy or overly jealous, just very aggressive and protective.
(another who would want to kill the reader's brothers when seeing them as a threat to their relationship).
and Lucifer...he's a mix.
he's not AS possessive as Mephisto, but he definitely wants everyone to know that (reader) is HIS sister.
He has great respect for the rules and he wants them to be followed, but when it is (the reader) who breaks them, he is much more lenient.
Be careful, I don't want to say that he is exempt from horrible punishments, if (reader) exceeds a limit of errors, then he will not be saved from one.
but Lucifer goes more for the Psychological side of things.
It makes (reader) believe that she is in control of the situation, a situation where she has no real advantage.
In this way he gains her favor but causes him to fall into his trap.
because HE is the one who is in control of everything. If (reader) goes far, it is because he allows it.
very protective, more than Mephisto, if it were up to him she wouldn't leave the Illuminati base, but at the same time he gives (reader) much more autonomy than Pheles.
It's very difficult to come to terms with him, but at least you can use his own sense of the rules against him :D
I think that the one most likely to break (reader) would be Mephisto, followed by Lucifer, these two would undoubtedly do it on purpose so that (reader) would stop trying to escape. Amaimon would only do it by accident due to his lack of knowledge of the human mind.
If (reader) develops Stockholm syndrome, Mephisto is throwing a fucking party! even LUCIFER would be happy (reader) has returned to his senses! and Amaimon would be happy but he would definitely miss the anger.
In short, it's chaos, but it balances out in certain curious ways so you get a little bit of each world.
Overall, it's a VERY fucked up yandere trio to be with, but look on the bright side! you will never be alone...
Shares, reglogs and comments are very welcome!
thanks for the request ❤️
ahhhh I loved writing this but I feel like some parts are messy?😭 or maybe because it's my longest fic so far?? I hope you like it and I'm sorry if it's too loaded!
#headcanons#fem reader#blue exorcist#blue exorcist spoilers#blue exorcist mephisto#blue exorcist lucifer#blue exorcist amaimon#yandere blue exorcist lucifer#yandere mephisto pheles#yandere amaimon#yandere platonic#platonic reader#platonic yandere#ao no exorcist#ao no exorcist lucifer#ao no exorcist x reader#ao no exorcist mephisto#ao no exorcist amaimon#blue exorcist x reader
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House of Leaves: The Perception Theory
People apparently liked my last post, so this is another House of Leaves Theory I posted on reddit
Do you know when you first enter a new place, like maybe a new video game or a town you’ve never been to before, and you are in awe of the sheer massiveness of the place. And then over time, as you become more familiar with it, it shrinks down to a manageable size? All of that happened just within your head.
Hi everyone. Some in my last post suggested I write about some of the explanations I have for the “docility problem,” or “why does the house start out dormant and become more aggressive over time?” This is something that I’ve been brewing in my head for a while: The Perception Theory.
The Perception Theory states that the house is a sort of distorted mirror. Anything the inhabitants believe about the house is reflected and becomes true. This is not only about conscious perception but memory as well. Like I pointed out in the opening, new places feel larger. To the Navidsons, the house was a place to be conquered and controlled even before the supernatural events begin. They believed the house was larger, so it became larger - the first hallway. When first moving into a new house, it’s normal to discover new areas and rooms that you didn’t find or forgot about until after a while of living there. The family wasn’t consciously aware of every facet of the house - and were away during this time - and this created a “hole” that the house filled with a pitch black hallway.
It is to be noted that this “perception” element only affects humans. Hillary and Malory (if you forgot, I don’t blame you, but they were the family cat and dog) were completely unaffected by the house, and the motion activated cameras were not triggered by the first Hallway appearing. It’s something innate within us that causes this effect. Curiosity, imagination, higher order thinking, possibly.
This becomes the basis for a snowball effect. Now that the Navidsons’ perceptions of the house were skewed by this new discovery, the whole house grew by 5/16”, then there was the bookcase event, and then the echo chapters. As humans, we can use echo as a way to gauge how large a space is. When the Navidsons first hear an echo within their house, again, the perception is altered. Larger and larger the home grows… that’s until the second Hallway manifests. Again, it is a freezing cold area with absolutely no discernible features. An uncanny mix of a familiar hallway with something extremely alien and empty.
It reminds me of 2001: A Space Odyssey. Some have pointed out that the rooms at the end of the film that Dave resides in are as if an alien with a superficial knowledge of humans tried to build a “zoo” for them. It’s familiar, it’s human, but everything is in the wrong place. The lights are on the floor and all the furniture placement seems off. Rooms are mirrored and even time is warped. In House of Leaves, the labyrinth is like an entity tried to extrude a house without knowing what makes a house… a house. The inhabitants’ perceptions made it larger, but because they didn’t know what they would find so it manifests as nothing, void, the bare minimum.
It should be noted that there are two kinds of “furniture” within the house, doors and banisters. That significance is unknown to me.
The Perception Theory also explains why the exploration team’s supply cashes are destroyed. Halloway brings a gun, anticipating a monster or some kind of enemy within the halls. This causes scratch marks to appear on the neon signs and caches. They were destroyed because the team expected to find them destroyed. The buttons on their shirts disappear not because they were arbitrarily consumed, but because they were not being kept track of. u/kingshaux pointed out something else that was interesting:
Notice how the House only really starts acting like Holloway’s enemy as soon as he starts seeing/treating it like one, almost as if it’s offended/defensive, like a person.
The house reflected Holloway’s hostility onto himself, becoming aggressive towards him but also (attempting to) protect Wax and Jed in the door shutting scene. Holloway expected to be attacked and killed by a monster, but the real monster was him, being reflected back by the house. The teamed exploration occurred at the same time the place outside the hallways started to be referred to with terms aligning with a war. Bases, fronts, attacks, SOS, outposts… the inhabitants’ intentions went from exploration to war. After they find Holloway’s suicide tape, the house tries to consume everyone like it did Holloway. It’s now an enemy in their minds.
The spiral staircase scenes are a major point of the Perception Theory. First of all, it appears that they go down forever, so they go down for a very very long distance. It takes the team days to reach the bottom. But now they they’ve confirmed that there is, in fact, a bottom to it, it takes Navidson 5 minutes to walk down it. Because the perception that it was bottomless changed, the distance changed as well.
So why does the distance stretch so far when Navy tries to leave? Not only does it stretch to an absurdly large size, it’s also a metaphorical distance, as he becomes more and more distant from Karen and his family. Because his connection to the outside is waning. He is mentally consumed by the house at this point, ignoring his wife’s wishes to enter inside (even though it was to save the team, Navidson wanted to go back anyway) the Hallways. But Navidson’s determination wins, as he climbs to bridge that distance even if it might be in vain. He makes it back to Tom. He makes it back to Karen.
This leaves some questions. If Karen’s perception of the house was so fearful, how does she save Navidson in the end? If we assume the colonials weren’t expecting to find anything in the area, why did they find stairs? How did it consume Karen’s Feng Shui and/or did she forget about it? Where does the cat go? Why can the house only manifest doors and hallways?
I get that that’s kind of a lot of loose ends but I didn’t want to make this post too long. Thanks for reading and tell me your ideas.
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hey this is lil anon 💗 i'm gonna send u another ask soon re: your recent reply, but my one lil brain cell just produced an idea and i'm just buzzing like stupid so i have to share it with you. i've been reading through your other asks and the dream kiss and the overlapping thought bubbles... and...
what if. WHAT IF. what if they have the same dream. LIKE LISTEN DGHFGDSHJK i know it's cheesy but a dream kiss in itself is already kinda cheesy tbh so why not go all the way??? we know nol's barely holding himself back he wants to kiss her so badly, the boy is gonna be dreaming some stuff no doubt about that. and they're already so connected via soulmateism so why not overlap it?? the opportunity is basically presenting itself on a silver platter !! and then they both wake up because it was too overwhelming and made their hearts beat too quickly and as the reality sets in they're just left with that emptiness because it felt so good so right but it wasn't real. argh.
ok talk to u later i need to go touch some fucking grass i think. - lil anon 😼
Oh mY GOD LIL ANON okay okay god I need you to know
I've had a terrible week and it's only half done, I've got some yucky real world/house news issues that just TANKED everything. I even woke up late for work by AN HOUR?! But I read this message RIGHT after I had my one on one with my manager and this has been the hightlight of my DAY I scurried up the walls and started howling from the rafters and then showed this message to my friends because I now, too, have this concept in my head AND I DON'T KNOW HOW I'M SUPPOSED TO GO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON
LIKE LOOK you are right okay. It's cheesy but like... we might as well go ALL IN right? Cheesy isn't inherently bad, and if you embrace it? KLAFKAFJJ WHEW!!!!! I had not even CONSIDERED the same dream, separated only by the space between them afljkafkjafkjjfa SHRIEKS a shared dream that illuminates the shared desired between them, one unaware and the other all too aware. That they are always on the same page, even if they don't know it!!!!!!!!
Because as much as Nol seems aware of her feelings what if he's wrong? What if he's Dieter, hope being sparked over and over by Shinae being relentlessly herself. What if everything he thinks he's interpreted about her and her inability to hold his gaze and the way she flusters and how she keeps dramatically confessing love for him without using the word and her dogged persistence to not let him get away isn't at all what he thinks and it really all is platonic?
They're on the same page, these feelings just overflowing AND THEY DON'T EVEN REALLY KNOW IT. She has no idea, he can't be for sure!
For Shinae, who needs that sort of wake up call to something that she feels so strongly but can't identify, it would be the perfect shock because the moment it comes to her, she can deny all she wants but it won't work. She can try and try but in the end she will see it for what it is. See the way he affects her through a new lens, understand better what it meant to be so hurt by him and to feel not even anger but just desperation and sadness. Of course it could only be love, that makes her feel so sad and ache when she thinks she should be angry. Of course it could only be love, that brings her back to him over and over, so certain she'll get through to him.
AAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH.
And for Nol, of course, a sweet sweet taste of pathetic man torture (ynow. for us). Because the moment he asked her to dance I think he was already resolute in his feelings - that he cannot pretend to not know what he does. If he had any intentions of that, he'd have played along and let Shinae believe it's all platonic it means nothing there's nothing, but he didn't because he doesn't want to hide it, he doesn't want to deny or ignore it. But he still has those instincts to pull away and run away. He still hurt her when he couldn't show himself to her. But I think to wake up to that emptiness, to get that TASTE and wake up to a reality where it's not real it didn't happen would emphasize how important it is to stop pushing her away. Because if that's what he wants, he will need to learn to try to open up, to show those parts of himself.
So much of what stops him is the fear. It's not just that he thinks bad things will happen to people, though that's true. It's what he thinks of himself and how he thinks they'll see him and I think, maybe, there's something about an admission of feelings that can make it less scary. That I know this is difficult, I know you don't like this part of you, but I like all of you, I love every bit of you, so you can trust yourself with me.
FLKAJFJKAFKJAFJ GOD TELL ME THAT'S NOT PEAK ROMANCE, LIL ANON!!!! TO BE LOVED, AS YOU ARE, FOR WHO YOU ARE, AND TO BE CHANGED BY THAT IMPRINT. ALFKAFJKAFJ GODDDDDDD
I want him to wake up SO pathetic, so full of regrets and want and yes, I'll accept the guilt because that will illuminate just how strong he feels what he does, that he knows he has hurt someone he cares about but also feelings cannot be helped and he never stood a chance, really. I am doing a light re-read - yknow, as one does every few months lmao - and just the ways that Shinae and Nol respond to each other so early in, so responsive to but unaware of that easy chemistry with each other, Nol in that phase where it was all supposed to be fake but it wasn't and he was getting so caught up in it and even though he was supposed to be playing cupid, so much of it was for himself, indulging in the opportunities.
I want him to wake up to that emptiness determined to not run away because some things are worse facing what scares you. There are people you don't throw away, you don't let go of ;A;
And I need to watch Shinae go through the stages of realization - the denial and refusal, the sheer horror and embarrassment lmao, the disgust of emotions and how did I get here how did this HAPPEN, but the aching hole in her heart of now knowing something she wants that she couldn't see before but now that she has how could she ever look away how did she never notice it when it's so big and shiny when it draws all the attention to it.
She has confessed to this man like three separate times on different occasions to different people. She knows there's something more to why he's upset but she DOESN'T SEE THE NEON SIGN FLASHING OVER HER HEAD THAT SAYS MORE
GODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD
I, too, should go out and touch some fucking grass but it's been storming all day ;A;
#I Love Yoo#ILY FP#ILY Spoilers#ILY Brainrot#Lil Anon#Lil Anon who says i'm not really a shipper but then rips open a bag of catnip and throws it all over my enclosure#BANSHEE SHRIEKING i want it i want it i want it#a shared dream is just SOOOOO them. always on the same page even when they don't know they are#when they're in sync they're SOOOOOO in sync!!!!!!!!!!!#the shared horror of being perceived of being known and loved (affectionate)#I love them SO MUCH#SOOOOOOOOOOOOO MCUH#Stalkyoo#Shinae Yoo#Nolan Oliver T. Lochlainn
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a submission for the love letters event —
hellooo! i hope this manages to get in! i love your writings a lot, they scratch an itch that many can't scratch and ily for providing a space for us to just enjoy all these fantasies <3 thank you for existing and writing and sharing your work with us!!
now that's dealt with, onwards to the details!
𝗸𝗲𝘆 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗶𝘁𝘀: shy at first, easygoing + talkative + a little cheeky when befriended. will tease people i'm super comfortable with. book smart(-ish) but not street smart. romantically dense & inexperienced in romance. logical but also emotional. prefers indoors than outdoors. enjoys cafe hopping. can't choose between coffee and tea (i love both). also can't choose between cats and dogs (again, i love both. and animals in general). would rather have a small circle of friends i can trust with my life rather than have a big circle of acquaintances. crowds and public speaking are the bane of my existence.
𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀: writing, drawing, painting, watching people play video games, recently got into cooking (although sadly it seems like i have no talents in it sob) and interior designing (again, not good at it lskdjfklsfd)
𝘀𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀: talents, talents.... hmm. i guess... i can make silly little games? uhhh i can also... fold my tongue? lol
mbti: infj
𝘀𝗲𝘅𝘂𝗮𝗹 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲: men, please!
⬥ ★ ⬦⧗ ◀ ⬤
— i hope these are enough details. thank you again for doing this <3 <3
- ꕥ
AWHH you sound like a sweetheart!! hehe your match came quite easy, i do hope you get along well!! ^u^
→ 𝗹𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗲𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗱!
𝗻𝗲𝘄 𝗺𝗮𝗶𝗹 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺: 𝘇𝗵𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗹𝗶! ←
'would nothing else be so fitting? hand-in-hand or side-by-side, could anything truly compare? a love made of gold chains and chopsticks washed together. you could draw many comparisons between yourselves and the fine wood rubbing together with only soap and spring water running through. he is the minimal sandbearer pair to your own embellished bamboo set.'
in your memory, such a meeting had been the bane of your existence and something you'd seethe over until the end of time. though as years past until the present things softened. his penchant for following you through the market and cornering you upon any encounter with a man went from overbearing to something you treasured. he cared for you. the former geo archon and current funeral consultant cared for you more than anything else. how could you not come to love him all the same?
he'd remove his gloves to give you the most tender of holdings, skin and veins alight with the gold flowing through them. nothing kept your skin warm and heart ablaze quite the way his skin on yours did. a man as firm as stone becoming as soft as sand all for you could do your heart in if it wasn't held so tightly by the man himself. perhaps it did still hurt when he'd take you so sudden and harsh without a word of seeking approval but you were not one to argue anymore. in the past, you'd thrash and hope he'd halt upon your disparity but he never would; why could you not enjoy it the way you do now? he'd wave away such thoughts and questions away, assuring you a change of heart was nothing to fret over and when was he ever wrong?
following, his lips would meet yours with such a lovely threat; you were to behave. to listen. and so, with your heart and body bound to no other, you caved like always.
'though sometimes the chains tightened, though the harsh surface of sandbearer against soft bamboo would degrade with time, though his lack-of silenced your more-of, you were one all the same.'
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TVXQ! - "DOWN"
youtube
Rose presents to us a long running K-pop duo who made a comeback this year...
[5.50]
Rose Stuart: I have to admit, TVXQ!'s newest release had big shoes to fill. Infrequent comebacks can create lofty expectations, but "Down" proves what K-pop has been missing during their five-year absence. This dreamy sex song (a genre that also has been rarely heard recently) floats from note to note, with soft, whispery vocals that manage to soar to new heights of TVXQ!'s already impressive range. It's filled with yearning to the point of desperation, the drumbeat an almost maddening ticking clock, and the relaxing guitar contrasted with an almost aggressive electronic breakdown in the chorus beautifully showcases the conflict. When the song reaches its climax, the energy is enough to knock you off your feet in the best way. Sex has been TVXQ!'s signature since "Mirotic," but "Down" feels closer to "Wrong Number" and "Before U Go" in its R&B influences. Throwing back to past songs while also carving out a new direction for themselves is the best thing TVXQ! could have done for this release, and I have only the highest hopes for what their 20th anniversary album will bring.
[9]
Nortey Dowuona: The drum programming on this is amazing, in that it's completely stationary beneath the post chorus breakdown and limp during the bridge and over compressed to the nines during the actual chorus. Truly amazing. Thank god these boys can sing.
[7]
Katherine St Asaph: Alternate 2010 history in which Justin Timberlake had a collab with Alex da Kid, with falsetto that's practically countertenor.
[6]
Will Adams: A solid update of turn-of-the-millennium boy band pop, right down to the glitchy breakdowns that BT had once provided them.
[6]
Ian Mathers: Those growly synths on the chorus come so close to having that dog in them (especially at the end when the one guy starts really wailing) but "Down" feels like just one small push away from being properly and satisfyingly OTT.
[6]
Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Sounds like something Jason Derulo would reject on account of lack of subtlety.
[2]
Micha Cavaseno: Back in 2019, I grabbed a TVXQ! single from a used book store close to my family (along with records by xbxrx, Ellen Allien and something else I can't recall), one of the ones where they still dressed up like Visual Kei artists on the cover. I found it less an interesting record and more a curious artifact given how K-pop has had its faltering existence on this continent for roughly as long as the group in question has been around in some incarnation or another. So as a result, I had to grab the CD in question just as a sort of totem, a weird reminder of where my Twice and Dreamcatcher CD books (with all its extensive paraphernalia) came from. It was more reverence than any sort of eagerness or desire. Listening to TVXQ! is kind of similar to that due to how any comeback single they make relies so much on their importance and not anything in particular that feels like a good song. It's an R&B Imagine Dragons record of swagger-step that doesn't feel particularly cool or sexy or beautiful, but you know it's important! It's not about actually enjoying it, but about respecting it. It's unfortunate that I can't respect them for making records I want to hear in 2023 though.
[3]
Michael Hong: Proven by single "Rebel" from earlier this week, SM's experiments are still alive. That one might feel tame compared to the best of what they've done -- it's further evidence that the company formula has grown rather tiresome -- but "Down" feels like nothing more than a set of ticked boxes.
[5]
[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]
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FORMULAS
non idol!jake x reader
0.5k words, fluff, math, flirting
a/n: legit stopped in the middle of doing calc just to write this i hate being so down bad for this man 💀
jakey: omg ur so cute
jakey: did u wrap this in ur calc hw?? 🤭
You laughed to yourself as you read over Jake's text messages and sent back a swift reply.
you: haha yep
Coincidentally, you were working on your calculus homework, something you dreaded. It wasn't that you hated doing the problems, per se—you actually grasped the concepts really well, especially with how your teacher taught it to you; the only thing you dreaded about it was when you didn't understand the language of the question or if the problems were super tedious and you couldn't just solve them in your head.
From your side, you heard your phone buzz low with another notification. Then another. And another. You knew Jake was texting you pictures and reactions to the package you sent over to him.
Ah, screw it.
You grabbed your phone and greedily opened the messages. It was Jake, pressing a white porcelain mug next to his handsome face. It reminded you of that one selfie he had once sent you of him and his dog Layla, and it made a smile bloom on your own face. The mug was a product of your idiocy and cheesiness—the side had a picture of you in a pair of tiny sunglasses and the words “Lucky to have this idiot as my best friend” printed on it.
jakey: ur a genius
you: i know 😎
After a couple more moments of you watching the three dots appear and disappear, he sent another picture. This one was a snapshot of a piece of the paper you had wrapped the mug in. Clearly he had tried to smooth it out, and despite all of the wrinkles, you could still make out your chicken scratch handwriting.
The day you wrapped Jake's present, you had been particularly pissed at differential equations; thus, that was what scored the entire paper now.
jakey: you did number five wrong
jakey: it's supposed to be -4e^2x, u can't keep the ±
you: ... bruh
jakey: yo is that a 6 or letter b???
You rolled you eyes, but you knew you couldn't help but smile wider. This was so utterly Jake of him.
you: can u stop insulting my math ability and compliment my gorgeous mug
jakey: first of all, what math ability?
jakey: second, yes, ur face is gorgeous
At the latter message, your face grew incredibly warm. Somehow, Jake Sim managed to make you flustered from all the way across the Pacific Ocean. You shouldn't be surprised, really.
you: ig that was smooth
jakey: u guess??? that's unfair sweetheart
you: UR unfair
jakey: yes, my godly good looks r pretty unfair
you: i’d respectfully argue against that claim
No, you didn't. You would respectfully support his claim, and maybe even respectfully stare at him all day if you could.
jakey: okay so i’m doing my chem lab right now and i have to come up with a hypothesis
you: ur taking chem?? i thought u were taking phys e+m?
jakey: humor me, sweetheart
you: okok sure whatever so hypothesis
jakey: if i called u on facetime and told u to ur face that i like you more than there are digits of pi, then...
you: i would...?
[jakey is calling you...]
jakey: shall we find out?
m.list
#enhypen#enhypen fanfiction#enhypen x reader#enhypen drabbles#enhypen scenarios#jake sim#jake sim x reader#jake x reader#jake sim drabbles#jake sim scenarios
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laszlo kreizler nsfw alphabet
so yeah this... Happened. the zemo version is coming soon, stay tuned! (probably tomorrow morning bc a bitch is tired lmao)
(gif credit to @lindir)
A = Aftercare.
Laszlo is such an aftercare king. He’s checking on you in every way he can think of: asking you if you feel alright, maybe massaging your hips if he had you in a weird position, offering you dinner or wine, maybe even a hot bath, if you’d like (and the bath would have special perfumed oils he had sent from Paris because Laszlo is SUCH a self care whore, he’s got soaps and perfumes out the wazoo).
B = Body Part.
His favorite part of yours are your breasts. No questions, hands down. He likes using your breasts as a pillow at night— just settling himself between your legs and resting his head on your tits is a dream he indulges in frequently. He also really loves seeing you in the new French-style of dresses that have a lower neckline, and, if you wear one of those dresses to dinner without telling him beforehand, he’s as good as gone. He’s staring the whole time and can only manage simple sentences.
C = Cum.
I think Laszlo likes to cum inside you, but he also wouldn’t mind cumming on your tits. If you’re on your knees, sucking him off, he’ll pull himself out of your mouth and almost rip your blouse in his haste to set your tits free before his orgasm rips through him. He only chooses to cum inside you if he can’t cum on your tits (for example, if you’re having slow, kissy sex and he can’t bear to leave your wet heat).
D = Dirty Secret.
Laszlo. Loves. To. Be. Degraded. From a psychological standpoint, he understands that his desire to be brought down and ridiculed is born from some sort of childhood trauma that DEFINITELY involves his father, but he just can’t help himself from getting so ridiculously turned on when you call him a dog for humping your leg while you try to sleep. Bonus points if you use his title while you do it: “Just like a little bitch in heat, aren’t you, Doctor Kreizler? You’re so aroused, you can hardly handle yourself. Are you too dumb to touch your own cock? Do you need me to do it? Oh, Doctor, what a dumb little thing you are.”
E = Experience.
Even Daniel himself has said that Laszlo has like NO experience. Laszlo got ZERO bitches (which I find hard to believe but ok whatever you say, writers of The Alienist), so, the first time y’all have sex, he’s more likely than not losing his virginity (let’s not get into the debate of “virginity is a social construct” because a.) IT IS and b.) Laszlo would lecture for hours about this). HOWEVER, these things come naturally to him. He is just Good In Bed. He figures it out very quickly, so, while you make fun of him for going a little stupid when he’s aroused, he makes up for it by bruising your cervix and apologizing later.
F = Favourite Positions.
Laszlo loves that soft, slow, kissy sex, so he’s into whatever position makes it possible for him to be inside you and to kiss you at the same time. Missionary is a go to, but sometimes he’ll have you sit on his desk and kiss your neck as he hikes your skirts up and fucks you all slow and nice.
G = Goofy.
Hardly ever? Laszlo is pretty serious most of the time, and the only time we ever see him Not Serious in the show is when he’s wasted after John’s bachelor party in season 2. So, maybe y’all went to dinner at Delmonico’s, then a ball for members of high society, and he had a little too much champagne and schnapps. He’s not like giggling and all, but his cheeks are red and he’s smiling more than usual, and calling you sweet names “Oh, mein Kätzchen” and “Meine kleine Prinzessin”. That’s Laszlo’s version of goofy.
H = Hair.
OK, my train of thought here is: LOOK AT THIS MAN’S BEARD. HIS BEARD IS NICE AS SHIT. If he treats his facial hair that good— regular trims, the beard oils we all know he uses, even if it isn't strictly canon— then his downstairs hair is nice too. Definitely soft, if maybe a little wiry sometimes (but tbh whose isn’t), and it’s a nice little cropping at the base of his cock. He also has a thin happy trail up his soft tummy, and a good amount on his chest (as we see in the show lol that much is canon).
I = Intimacy.
Laszlo is ALL ABOUT intimacy. You’ll know he’s in a ~mood~ because you’ll ask what’s being served at Delmonico’s that night, and Laszlo is like “I thought we might stay in tonight. John gave me his grandmother’s recipe for chicken soup”. He’ll light candles and pour you wine and play nice music on his gramophone, and he’ll romance you throughout dinner with little hand touches and sly smiles, until he’s kneeling in front of you and slowly kissing up your leg.
J = Jack-Off.
Honestly, he hardly does it. Of course, I’m sure he did it A LOT before he met you, but now he doesn’t need to pleasure himself anymore. He’s got you to do that. The only exception is if he has to travel for work and you can’t go with him. Even then, he’ll hold off until he absolutely can’t stand it, and then he’ll like read a letter you sent him or look at a sketch that John did of you while he whacks off; sometimes, he’ll just hold your letter to his face, and the faint trace of your perfume is enough to do the job.
K = Kink.
He likes impact play a lot (and perhaps a little roleplay wrapped up in it). On the rare occasion that his fucking is anything but soft and lovely, he’s gonna be hitting your ass and the backs of your thighs as you cling to him while he rails you stupid. Laszlo would try to hit your cheek, but he feels too bad when you wince at the pain of it. Spanking your tits is good to him too. His favorite though (and here’s where the roleplay comes in), is caning your ass. He’ll bend you over the desk in his home office and pull your skirts up past your hips, and he’ll make you count the amount of times his thick wooden cane connects with your soft asscheeks. The roleplay is, more often than not, you were his assistant who did something wrong and needed to be punished. If you miss one or forget to thank him accordingly “Thank you, sir”, he’ll focus the next hit on your thighs.
L = Location.
Either the bed or his desk. Laszlo is a little older (I don’t think we ever get an explicit age? But if we say he’s the same age as Daniel, then he’s 40 to 42-ish) so he can’t do it against a wall or anywhere too crazy (not to mention his right arm can hardly support much weight, so if he needs to hold you up, it’s probably not gonna happen). The bed is a special time for you two because of his arm; he’ll hold himself up with his left arm and rest his hand on your hip or wherever to give himself at least a little leverage. But the desk is usually easier because you can sit, or you can bend over and he can grab your hip.
M = Motivation.
He loves you and wants to worship you. It’s truly as simple as that. He loves you and thinks that you’re the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen, and he wants to show his reverence for you by making love to you.
N = No.
He can’t get into the role of “daddy”, nor can he call you “mommy”. Childhood trauma aside, he will be goddamned if Sigmund fucking Freud is correct about his bullshit Oedipus complex or whatever, so he just eliminates that whole thing entirely.
O = Oral.
He’s very good at it. He’s just… His lips are soft and his beard is good, and he’s not afraid to get a little messy with it. He’ll eat you out until he absolutely has to come up for air, and he’ll have a little bit of your wetness clinging to his mustache, but then he’s right back in it. His medical degree is also put to good use here because he remembers his female anatomy and he’s locked onto your clit the entire time. The first time you ever squirted, it was because Laszlo was nipping at your clit and sucking your wet little hole and pressing his thick fingers into you, and it was A Lot To Process, but you squirted and Laszlo came in his pants instantly because he’s like “I didn’t think women could actually do that… I thought that was a thing that penny novels made up”
P = Pace.
Again, he’s a little older, so he doesn’t fuck like some wild boy. He takes his time with you, touching you and caressing you and kissing you, and his pace is the same way. He’s slow and gentle, but has the capacity to go faster and harder if you ask for it.
Q = Quickie.
Hates them. Never. Never ever ever. If he can’t properly romance you and take his time with you, then what’s the point??
R = Risk.
Surprisingly, Laszlo is a little schemer, and he loves running a risk. He’s already looked down upon by other society members, so what’s the harm in squeezing your ass at a party? PERHAPS it’s inappropriate to get caught in a dark corner with your hand down his trousers and him kissing your neck, but it’s easy to blame it on the alcohol.
S = Stamina.
Once more, he is firmly middle aged, so he can do one round— maybe two, if he’s feeling particularly frisky. Usually, though, one is more than enough for both of you.
T = Toy.
HAVE YALL SEEN SEX TOYS FROM THE 1890S?? SHITS ARE SCARY. Laszlo does not like toys, but he understands their need for existing, so he may not like them but he tolerates them. That being said, he likes to watch you use them. LIke, he’ll sit in a chair by the bed and request you “put on a good show”, and he’ll watch you fall apart, and he’ll only come and touch you if you beg and plead for him to.
U = Unfair.
Mhm, so, in Laszlo’s mind, sex and pleasure are not just a give and take, it’s a two way street. They can (and often need to) coexist. He doesn’t like to initiate something if you won’t be able to reciprocate, so he’s not too into teasing or things. At the aforementioned parties, he’ll only goose your ass if he knows you’re 100% down for it.
V = Volume.
He’s fairly quiet. His mouth is usually really close to your ear, and you’re the only one who gets to hear his pretty little noises. The loudest he’ll be is when he’s come home after traveling and it’s felt like ages since he’s made love to you, he’s gonna come inside you, and his little gasp and moan are louder than usual.
W = Wild Card.
He is down to be tied up. He doesn’t like to tie you up, but if he’s the one being restrained, he’s all over it. It’s nothing too intense, just using a ribbon for your hair to tie his left hand to the headboard, not super tight but enough to make his fingers a little tingly, but he loves it. He loves the switch of the dynamic, how he’s fully at your mercy and you can use him however you please; usually, you just suck him off and ride him, but the endless possibilities get him hard as soon as you pull out the ribbon.
X = X-Ray.
Laszlo has Big Dick Energy, so he has to have a big dick. The best example of this sort of energy is in the very first episode after he goes and interviews Wolf, and comes to speak to Teddy, and Teddy is like “you interviewed the suspect? On whose authority??” and laszlo is like “Mine” like OH HIS DICK IS BIG I KNOW IT. He’s got an above average length and girth, but we know our man likes to eat, so some of his weight goes to his dick, so it’s like,,, He’s got a fat cock, sorry, I don’t make the rules
Y = Yearning.
Constantly. Neverending. He’s at work and he’ll catch a glimpse of a pastel drawing that you commissioned from John for Laszlo’s birthday that sits in a frame on his desk, and his heart starts to hurt from missing you. When he comes home, he’ll embrace you and kiss you like he hasn’t seen you in years, and he’ll want to hear all about your day. You have your doctor so whipped for you, and it’s a different kind of whipped than being pussy whipped. He’s, like, feelings whipped.
Z = ZZZ.
He’s a sleepy little baby after you guys finish. His eyes will be a little heavy and sticky as he’s cleaning up and caring for you (and you definitely coo at him “Oh, Las, you’re so sleepy!”) but when you’re both back in bed, our little man is circling his arm around your waist and nuzzling his cheek into your shoulder. He’s so soft and affectionate, and he’s out like a light when you kiss his forehead and tell him you love him.
#laszlo kreizler#the alienist#laszlo kreizler smut#daniel bruhl x reader#daniel bruhl smut#daniel brühl x reader#daniel brühl smut#laszlo kreizler x reader#daniel bruhl#daniel brühl
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take the dive - sugawara koushi x milf!reader
tags/warnings: smut, 18+ ONLY! slight dubcon, infidelity, post timeskip (suga teaches reader’s kids). overstimulation and slight dumbification, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, semi-public (in an empty classroom)
a/n: this is my piece for @ultimate-astridwriting’s milf fuckers collab, which you can find here!! thank you for hosting this astrid, and thank u to everyone in the server for ur love and support as i worked on this <33. title cred: take the dive by jonghyun
wc: 3.9k
Amidst a faculty full of stuffy old dinosaurs and suits, Sugawara Koushi is a breath of fresh air. He’s a welcome distraction, a pretty face to focus on at dull PTA meetings and assemblies. And you knew that you weren’t the only one making heart eyes at him. Everywhere that he went, heads turned, and moms whispered. At the bus stop, on the sidelines of sports matches, in the waiting rooms outside dance classes.
It was just that, though -- just whispers. Little knowing glances and nudged shoulders, dreamy sighs and brief sinful indulgences. Nothing more than a brief escape from the monotony of your everyday lives. You’d lose yourselves in the fantasy for a few seconds, and then pull your heads down from the clouds and plant your feet on solid ground. You enjoyed your gossip with the other moms, and then you returned home, to your husband and children. To your family.
You love them, of course. Your children are your world, and your husband is a good man. He’s a good man, and that’s what made it so hard. He treats you well, keeps his words soft and never once put his hands on you.
He may be good, but, God, was he boring. You can’t remember the last time that he’d even kissed you, let alone fucked you. He came home later and later each night, too tired from work to do anything but silently scarf down his dinner and plant himself on the couch in front of the television. He dragged himself into bed hours after you did. He tried to be quiet, he really did, but he woke you up every single night with his stomping and shuffling. When you snuggled closer to him, he pushed you off. My back hurts too bad, he’d say, voice tinged with regret. Remind me to book another appointment with the chiropractor.
It was always some excuse or another.
So, really, you couldn’t blame yourself for your wandering eye. You weren’t going to act on it, of course -- you weren’t a cheater -- but the young teacher was something to occupy yourself with. A pretty face to fill your thoughts as you wrangled your horde of screaming kids from swim lessons to dance practice to art classes. A pretty, pretty body to imagine as you fucked yourself with your fingers, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to muffle your moans. You couldn’t help but imagine that it was him, lithe body leaning over yours. No complaints of aching backs and sore muscles, none of the complications that came with age.
You’d leave your husband catatonic on the couch, put the kids to sleep, and then go dream of their hot teacher. You should’ve been more ashamed, but there was a part of you that loved the thrill of it. You flushed whenever you saw Mr. Sugawara the next morning, memories of your illicit thoughts filling your mind, but it also made your body feel electric.
Of course there was a part of you that longed to throw caution to the wind and jump the young man, but your conscience was much stronger than your weak, lustful thoughts. You were happy with the way things were now. As dull as your husband was, and as insufferable as the children could sometimes be, you were happy.
This was all you had ever wanted. A house in the suburbs, a husband with a well-paying job, three kids and a dog. You’re living the fucking dream. You’re happy, you tell yourself.
So why the fuck are you so unsatisfied?
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
With a deep breath, you stare down the heavy glass doors at the school’s entrance. You want nothing more than to find the idiot architect who designed this building, and strangle him for installing pull doors. Your arms are already sore from carrying the giant tray of brownies from your car to the front of the school, and you worry that if you put the treats down to open the door, you wouldn’t be able to lift them up again. A quick glance at your watch tells you that you have two minutes left to reach the gym where the bake sale is being held. The PTA president is notorious for hating latecomers, and you weren’t in the mood to get your head bit off.
You’re debating doing some gymnastics and using your foot to grab the handle, when you notice footsteps approaching from behind you. You open your mouth to ask for help, but they beat you to it. “Let me get the door,” says their syrupy, melodic voice.
Their familiar voice.
Your body practically freezes as a strong arm reaches over your shoulder. Long fingers – fingers that you’ve fantasized about too many times to count – twist the handle and push it open easily. You don’t know how you didn’t notice him approaching sooner, but now that he’s here, your senses are in overdrive. The sweet scent of his cologne, the sound of his breath, the warmth of his body – it’s all too much, and it makes your knees feel weak.
“Mr. Sugawara,” you say, voice coming out much breathier than you intended. This must be some kind of Pavlovian response from all your fantasizing, because there is no reason for your stomach to be twisting right now. “Thank you.”
He grins sheepishly and steps away, and you hate the way that your body screams at you to lean into him. “It’s no problem. Is that for the bake sale? Here, let me carry it for you.”
You try to protest, but there’s really no point. His long fingers are already pushing yours to the sides, and you swear you’ve been electrified as he pulls the tray out of your hands. It’s a shame, really, that he’s wearing a button-down. The sleeves are rolled up to his forearms, at least, but you would’ve loved to see his biceps flex as he carried that tray…
What am I doing? You dig your nails into your palm to snap yourself out of your thoughts, but it’s hard to stay lucid when he’s so beautiful. He carries the brownies with ease, using just one arm to support their weight as the other holds the door open for you. It should make you upset, that you’re so weak in comparison to him, but the thought just makes you feel even more breathless. He’s so strong, so young, and so unlike your husband.
“Thank you,” you say again as he steps into the building behind you. You reach for the tray, but he waves you off.
“Nonsense. I’ll walk you to the gym.”
“Oh, really, you don’t have to—”
“I insist. Anything for my favorite mom.”
His…favorite? His words leave you too stupefied to protest any further, and he takes your silence as compliance. Your body automatically follows in his footsteps as he paces down the hallways.
He looks over at you and smiles comfortingly. It lights up his entire face, but does little to ease your turbulent thoughts.
Your mind is still fixated on his words as you step onto the squeaky wood flooring of the gymnasium. Sugawara calmly walks over to the PTA president, who looks like she’s about to rip her hair out. She’s surrounded by a gaggle of other moms, all jabbering away with concern painted across their faces.
“Is something wrong, ladies?” he asks. His voice snaps them all out of their conversation, and their eyes widen as they take him in.
“Yes,” says the PTA president scornfully. “We were supposed to have the brownies here already! The sale starts in ten minutes, and if this keeps up, I won’t have enough time to inventory everything and make it presentable, and –”
“I have the brownies,” you cut in, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.
She blanches, and looks from you to the tray in Sugawara’s arms. An oh is all she can muster before grabbing the brownies and rushing off.
“Is everything okay?” one of the other moms asks, her voice laced with fake sweetness. “Oh, and you look so tired, dear. If you couldn’t manage your part, you should’ve just said so!”
“It would’ve been no trouble,” another woman says. “I’d have had no trouble whipping up a tray for you! Everyone always does love my baking.”
You grit your teeth and resist the urge to snap at them. It’s always like this – the other moms seem so in tune with their lives of domestic bliss, playing games of politics and constantly competing to be the best. Try as you might, you just can’t satisfy yourself with a life like theirs.
The material of Sugawara’s shirt brushes against you, and you start. He doesn’t pull away as you flinch, instead gently resting his hand on the small of your back. “Sorry to interrupt, but can I steal her away? Mrs. (L/N), I have your son’s science fair project sitting in my classroom. He keeps forgetting to bring it home. Would you like to go collect it now?”
You nod, relieved at the excuse to escape these women and their sickening artificial sweetness. Sugawara gently guides you with the hand on your back. You can’t help but internally smirk at the thinly-veiled jealousy on the faces of the other mothers.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
“This is why you’re my favorite,” Sugawara says, once you’re safely out of earshot. “All these PTA moms are so fake. But you’re not like that, are you?”
You nod, still a bit convinced that this is all a dream. He doesn’t remove his hand from your back as you walk down the hallways, and only pulls away when you reach the door to his classroom. He fishes through his pocket and pulls out a ring of keys, before insert one into the knob and pushing the door open. He gestures for you to enter first, and so you do, blinking at the harsh sudden brightness of the automatic lights.
You awkwardly glance around the room. You’ve been here plenty of times before, but that was all during the daytime, when it was packed full of energetic children. It feels…strange, to be alone in a classroom as an adult. Or, well, alone, except for the stupidly attractive teacher that you’ve been lusting over.
“Where’s the project?” you ask, trying to diffuse some of the tension building in your stomach. “I should head home soon.”
Sugawara leans his back against the door and cocks his head. “You know, I know what you say about me.”
“What?”
“Don’t play dumb.” His eyes rove across your body, lingering on your chest for far longer than they should. “I’m not deaf, you know. I hear all the things you say about me. You’re just like all the other moms.” He pushes off the door, stalking closer to you. You instinctively take a step back. “Only difference is, you might actually have the guts to do something about it.”
Your heart thuds in your chest, so hard that you think your ribs might bruise. “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Sugawara. I-”
You take another step back, and another, and suddenly your back collides with concrete. Your body jolts, and you yelp at the sudden pain.
Sugawara leans closer. One of his hands braces against the board behind your head, and the other one comes up to cradle your face. His long fingers hook under your chin and press, forcing you to tilt your head up and meet his gaze. His thumb brushes against your lip, and you can’t deny how the sensation makes your body feel like jelly.
Every rational thought in your mind is screaming at you to run, to leave, to get away from him and go back to your husband, but God, it’s been so long since you’ve felt like this. It’s been so long since someone’s made your heart race and your breaths quicken, since someone’s made you blush like a schoolgirl over a simple touch.
“What was that you said?” he asks, his voice dripping with honey. “You don’t know what I’m talking about?”
You swallow and bite the inside of your cheek. The pain does nothing to clear the fog inside your mind. “I-I don’t, I-”
“You do,” he interrupts, his thumb still toying with your lip. “You’re so fucking obvious. I bet you’re wet already, aren’t you?”
“Mr. Sugawara!” His lewd words make you gasp, but more than anything, you hate the fact that he’s right. Your body has a mind of its own, and it wants nothing more than to wrap your lips around his thumb and pull him closer. It wants to feel his arms wrapped around you, feel his body towering over you.
But you can’t. As much as you want to, you can’t, because you have a husband at home who’s waiting for you. Sure, he isn’t home right now, because he’s putting in extra hours at the office. And sure, he hasn’t touched you or made you feel desired in weeks. Hell, you haven’t had a genuine conversation in weeks. But he’s still your husband! You try and remind yourself of that. You roll the thought around in your head, hoping that it’ll push your thoughts of Sugawara away.
But the young teacher is persistent, and there’s a glimmer in his eye that makes your chest tighten. “Call me Koushi, princess.”
“Don’t call me princess –”
“What, you’re going to pretend that it didn’t make you wetter? Going to pretend that you aren’t clenching your thighs together right now?” He leans in even closer, so that his breath brushes against your ear as he whispers. “Your body doesn’t lie, baby.”
A whine slips past your lips at his words, and then you gasp, mortified with yourself. But the grin that covers his face makes your transgression worth it, because God, he’s handsome. His hand squeezes your chin even tighter, and then trails down to your neck. Your breath catches in your chest. You’re hyperaware of his every movement, of his fingers trailing across your skin, his touch feather-light. It leaves you aching for more.
You instinctively whine again, and he lets out a noise of surprised delight. “Whining like this, and you’re still denying that you want me? What’s got you so embarrassed?”
“I have a husband,” you hiss – or, at least, you try to hiss. It comes out more like a whimper than anything else.
Sugawara looks at you for a beat – and then throws his head back and laughs. It catches you off guard, and you furrow your brow. “Why the fuck are you laughing?”
He collects himself, but his eyes are still gleaming when he looks back at you. “Sure, you have a husband. But that doesn’t stop you from thinking about me, does it? Tell me, when’s the last time that your husband took care of you? When’s the last time that he touched you, or fucked you, or made you feel good?”
“Mr. Sugawara, this is inappropriate–”
“Stop lying to yourself.” His voice suddenly drops, his stare forceful and deadly serious. “Say the word, and I’ll go. We can pretend this never happened. But anyone with eyes can tell that you’re unsatisfied.”
“I…I don’t…” Your thoughts feel like a wave, building higher and higher. They bounce around your head, reverberating against your skull, so loud that you can’t even think.
“Why are you settling?”
“Mr. Sugawara, please, I–”
“Why are you settling, when you know you want more?”
The wave crests.
You don’t know who moves first, but somehow, your fingers are tangled in his hair, and his lips are slotted against yours. It’s not soft, or sweet – it’s a mess of teeth and tongues and feverish breaths. His hands are everywhere. They trail over your skin, explore the curves of your chest and your stomach, grip tightly at your waist to pull you closer.
“Mr. Sugawara,” you pant against his lips. Your lungs scream for oxygen, but you can’t bear to drag yourself away from him for even a second. He kisses so well. It may be rushed, and messy, but there’s so much hunger behind his actions that it makes your head spin. It’s like his lips are a live wire, and every second that they touch yours, they send a thousand volts of electricity arcing through your body.
“Koushi,” he breathes. “Call me Koushi, please.” You nod, and then hurriedly undo the buttons of his shirt, popping a few off in the process. Neither of you care. His hands finally dip beneath the hem of your dress, and he wastes no time in unceremoniously tugging it off your body.
Your hands instinctively go to cover yourself. Age and childbirth have changed your body, and you know that Mr. Sugawara – no, Koushi – is probably used to beautiful young women. You still don’t understand why his eye landed on you. He surely has dozens of girls his age fawning over him, with flat stomachs and perky tits. Why you?
He grips your wrists and pries your hands away from your body. “Don’t do that,” he says, so gentle in contrast to the fire from just moments ago. “Don’t cover yourself up. You’re beautiful.”
Oh.
You can’t remember the last time that someone called you beautiful. You can’t remember the last time that you felt beautiful.
But right now, with Koushi staring at you, eyes blown out with lust… you feel it.
He sinks onto his knees, lips already pressing little kisses against your hips and upper thighs. You try and protest – really, Koushi, you don’t have to – but he shushes you instantly. He hooks one of your thighs over his shoulder and dives in without hesitation. Even through the fabric of your panties, you’re in fucking heaven. His tongue laves against your clit, focusing so much attention onto the swollen bead that you can’t help but let out a moan.
You slap your hand over your mouth to silence yourself. You’re in an elementary school, for God’s sake. The bake sale is at the other side of the large building, but you’re terrified of someone walking past and catching you. Guilt swirls around your heart, but it’s quick to dissipate when Koushi tugs your panties off and throws them over his shoulder. He buries himself into your cunt again, and it’s even better without the barrier. The coil in your stomach is tightening embarrassingly fast, but you can’t seem to find it in yourself to care. His tongue laps at your folds, slurping lewdly.
The pleasure is overwhelming. Your body moves of its own accord. Your hips grind against Koushi’s face, and he moans right into your cunt. His lips move up to your clit again, alternating between licking and sucking. You’re so focused on his mouth that you barely notice his fingers, so long and pretty, collecting your wetness.
You do notice when he fucks two of those pretty fingers into you. He immediately starts scissoring his fingers to stretch you out, before hooking them against that spot inside of you that makes your head spin. Your entire body is shaking with euphoria, so much that you can’t handle it.
“Close,” you cry out, trying to keep yourself upright. “Close, close, please, don’t stop!”
He moans into you again when you tug at his hair. It’s the push that you need to finally fall over the edge. You bite into your palm to keep from screaming as you gush all over him, chest heaving and eyes tearing up.
He keeps curling his fingers, keeps lapping at your clit, until you tug on his hair and cry that the overstimulation is too much. As he lets your leg down and stands up, he makes a show of licking your cum off his fingers, slurping on them loudly. It would make you embarrassed, but you’re too focused on his other hand as it dips down to his belt. The muscles of his stomach flex as he undoes the buckle. You take the opportunity to rake your eyes over his toned torso. He seems so slender when he’s dressed, but his shoulders are surprisingly broad.
He looks up at you with a little smirk. “Caught you staring,” he teases. You blush as he pulls his pants and boxers down in one go, freeing his cock. It’s already hard, and so pretty, just like him. His tip is red and dripping with precum. You want so badly to get a taste, but Koushi has other plans. He spins you by your shoulders, and then presses at the small of your back to make you lay across his desk.
You groan when you feel him slap his cock against your ass a few times, before running it through your folds to collect your wetness. “Please,” you gasp. “No teasing, please.”
“Just came, and you’re already needy?” he chuckles. “That husband of yours must really not be satisfying you.”
You’re spared from having to think of a retort by him sinking into you. A cry leaves your lips, but it’s too good for you to even care about the sound. He feels like heaven as he sinks into you. His cock stretches you out deliciously.
You’re already feeling delirious as he starts to shallowly thrust and work his way in. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he mutters under his breath, more to himself than to you. “So – fuck…”
You can’t do anything but moan and scratch at the table as he starts to fuck into you in earnest. His cock is perfectly curved to hit your spot every time, and soon you’re reduced to a mess underneath him. His balls slap against your ass with every thrust. It hurts, it’s all too much, but it’s so fucking good. You don’t think you’ve ever felt pleasure like this – mind numbing and all consuming, so powerful that it makes your eyes roll back.
“Fuck,” he groans again, bending down so that he can loom over you and leave little bites all over your back and shoulders. “Not gonna last if you keep squeezing me like that, shit!”
“Faster, please,” you beg, and he obliges. He sets an absolutely brutal pace, somehow managing to fuck you hard, fast, and at the perfect angle all at once. Moans and cries spill freely out of your open mouth. When he reaches forward to toy with your clit, it’s all too much, and it sends you over the edge again. Your body practically spasms as he fucks you through your second orgasm. He shows you no mercy, gives you no time to come down. You don’t know if you’re coming again, or if you just never stopped. Your mind is hazy with pleasure and overstimulation.
You’re a twitching mess by the time that he pulls out, but you still whine at the loss. You’re far too fucked out to turn around and look at him, but in the corner of your consciousness, you can hear him panting and stroking himself furiously. His moans are so beautiful. Within a few short seconds, he’s coming all over your ass, painting your pretty skin white with his seed.
You don’t know how long you’re laying there before he taps your cheek to get your attention. “C’mon now,” he says, a tired smile on his face. “Let’s get you cleaned up. We wouldn’t want your husband finding out, would we?”
#sugawara x reader#sugawara x reader smut#sugawara smut#haikyuu x reader smut#haikyu x reader smut#haikyu x reader#haikyuu x reader#sugawara koshi x reader#koushi sugawara#sugawara#haikyuu#haikyu#haikyuu smut#haikyuu imagines#haikyu smut#tw: dubcon#tw: infidelity#tw: overstimulation#tw: dumbification#suga x reader#🌘.collabs!!
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help girl i just woke up and im already thinking abt mag s/o again. anyway please consider ;
[ tw body horror, some brief light gore and violence ]
[ note ; reader is SLIGHTLY described. the only thing mentioned is that they have a noticeable, identifying scar on their face
hank + mag s/o
-he knew you even before the boombox incident. he doesn't even really remember how you two first met, he just remembers that you started talking to him and then just kinda kept coming back. at first he wasn't the biggest fan of you since he was 'doing just fine on his own,' but...he admittedly was already really attached to you. they've never been much of a talker and that's especially noticeable to you at that point in time but ,,, they respond enough with signing, nodding / shaking their head, or the occasional speaking that you're able to carry some conversations pretty well.
-he doesn't really. have. a lot of people in his life. you're really his only real close friend, it's kinda hard for him to fully wrap his head around it so !! they chose not to, instead focusing more-so on whatever it was you were rambling to them about that day.
-not super sure of where to put this lmao but ummm ehe . he's actually surprisingly touchy with you????? like. you've hung out at his house a few times and he just like. you'll start out sitting next to each other and you'll end up either laying with your head on their chest or vice versa . its . a little funny . you tease him about it a little and he just flicks your shoulder. also traces your scar a lot if you'll let them, they're not entirely sure why they do it, they just . like asking you about it occasionally.
-also you have scary dog privileges. they might look like any other grunt at that point but they're still tall as fuck and idk man !! something abt getting a blank stare from someone who towers over u would probably make u shut up and mind ur own damn business.
-again, he's not super good at fully recognizing / acknowledging certain thoughts and feelings of his but . yknow. he can definitely tell he at least worries about you a lot more than he would some other grunt he just met. he can definitely tell there's a reason he doesn't mind you touching him, whether by grabbing his hand to go show him something or just placing a hand on his shoulder or arm (most likely arm, again. hes tall. ). they can definitely tell there's a reason that they find themself genuinely enjoying your interactions.
-after the park thing you don't see them for a long time. everytime you try and call him the lines dead, everytime you try and ask others about him you just get choice words, all in all you're pretty much lost on the entire thing. sure, you know what happened but . it just never sits right with you. it doesn't help whenever people ask questions about them or give you wary looks because of your association, half steps back when you take one forward.
-anyway. yeah nevada goes to shit and you get magnified for the aahw. by now you just. don't really talk about hank. surprisingly, you have a little more of your old memories than the average mag !! congrats. problem is they're all foggy enough that you only really distantly decipher them. lmao. you aren't super high on the ladder but you're a pretty tough mag to beat. you're well known enough that other mags tend to hang around you when there's not much else going on. v2 mags especially think it's fun to mess around with you by jumping on your back or otherwise clinging onto you . idk man u've got like . a little family here .
-at one point or another there's an outing youre on that ends up going wrong. you get split up from the rest of your unit and are forced to hide out in some old abandoned building while you wait for backup. you're a little too injured to try and walk all the way back, a heavy gash on your side preventing you from doing too much in the moment. when you hear heavy steps on concrete you're able to give some sort of noise of relief, turning your head to look over your shoulder at whichever agent in your group had finally found you-
-you're instead met with red goggles and the end of a gun.
-any kind of relief is snatched away, you know damn well who it is by just the bit you can see in the dark alone. even standing in the shade between two windows (one of which you were sitting by, probably how they seen you in the first place- if that's the case though, it's a little weird they hadn't just shot at you through it.) you knew it was him. you're already stumblingly forcing yourself up to as much of your full height as you can manage, taking some kind of defensive position even as one of your hands ghosts over your gash. the throbbing pain of it and the feeling of blood sticking and running down your skin is enough that you can't seem to focus on the fact that he won't stop staring at your face.
-it doesn't take long before your legs seem to fail you, forcing you forward a bit as you kneel in some sort of attempt to keep upright. you're too busy hissing under your breath and screwing your eyes shut in pain as your hand covers your side to notice your company stepping forwards. you're snapped back to attention when there's a hand on your face, fingertips digging into your skin as they yank your head down a little further. you know you should be grabbing him, that you should be digging your claws into his torso and ripping him clean in half, throwing whatevers left aside and leaving. you know thats what you were told to do, what you were told they deserved anyway. yet, you aren't. instead, you're just giving some warning growl as you stare at them. you notice how the end of the gun is pointed away from you, how their touch seems to outline the mark on your face.
-"If you try and hurt me, I'll kill you." That's the only real heads up you get before he's crouching down and shoving your hand out of the way, grabbing something from his pocket to get to work on you. you don't fail to notice how little attention they're paying to you (aside from the focus on your wound, of course), that you could just rush forward and slam them into the ground if you really wanted.
-ok im skippin g ahead bc this is already way too goddamn long for hcs DEJWJCS
-anyway. it's a complicated relationship for a while. the others tend to avoid you a little but he just keeps showing up around you. they keep staring at you and just hanging around in your general area. it's not that much of an irritant if you ignore all the weird emotions and thoughts it keeps bringing to the forefront of your mind, forcing you to once again try and meddle with your memories.
-eventually he just starts walking over to you and sitting down next to you. sometimes he doesn't say anything at all, just sitting there and seeming to wait for one thing another- he never seems to find whatever that is, as he always gets up and leaves without a word at some point or another. then they start talking, its just little things at first, point-blank statements you can't say much on. sometimes they're just saying they and the other three will be gone for a bit othertimes it's some half-demand to let them look at the stitches they did on you (semi-related, he's not good at them. the stitches are pretty rough. at one point or another sanford has to redo them properly lmao)
-but then there's one particular night. they do the normal thing, come over, sit down next to you, not say a word. this time though you note how they're facing you. instead of some reminder or a demand for anything, he's pulling his ask down and asking a simple question. 'What do you remember?'
-it's a long conversation. he's talking more than he normally would by a long shot, occasionally stopping whenever his words seem to especially fail him and get stuck in his throat. you don't even really remember moving around, or even him pulling you in any way, you just know you somehow end up laying next to him with your head on his chest.
-whenever the memories do seem to click into place, it's hard. you have a lot of choice words for them yourself, months of being left alone without a word bubbling up with a vengeance, they listen to them. while some mags (such as yourself) do have the ability to speak, the san and dei don't think they've ever heard one with that much emotion in their voice. they've especially never seen a mag just break down like you do, they're both tensing up a little from their far away spot when hank's walking closer to you. instead of you lashing out or swiping at him though, you just sit there while he wraps his arms around you (as best as he can at least, it's a little difficult but he's able to get them around your neck and reach his other hand behind you well enough). you're eventually doing the same to him, though it's more so just your hands resting on their back.
-it takes a good while for proper trust to be rebuilt along with an honest, proper explanation from hank that only you're privy to. eventually though, there's enough trust that you're able to hang around him again without narrowly avoiding an argument or anything. they don't like being super affectionate or 'vulnerable' in front of the other two, so most times they prefer being in your or their room. also they're still touchy lmao, doesn't help that you're mag sized now and so they just want to hold you . its hard to explain, he's never been super affected by others heights and even when he is it's usually a negative thing for him but . for some reason . he just likes being shorter / smaller than you lol ,,,,,,,, hope you like holding them a lot bc that's what you're gonna be doing
-holy shit these are long so . i think .i am going to stop here.
#hank j wimbleton x reader#madcom x reader#madness combat x reader#madcom imagines#madness combat imagines#rot writes#hank 'jmy s/o is twice my size and could turn me into a fine wine if they really wanted to and i love them for it' wimbleton
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Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 4)
(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)
series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself. except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.
word count: 5.3k
warnings: smut!!, overstimulation, oral f receiving, lots of dirty talk and begging, very very subtle d/s dynamics if you squint, slight angst??, awkwardness, pining
Bucky’s heart was racing as he tried to prepare himself for what was coming. It was never easy to watch that scene of you being fucked by somebody else— even if it wasn’t real, and even if it was technically your character that was getting fucked— but it was going to be an entirely new struggle with you a foot away, laying next to him on your bed.
“We only did two takes of this,” you remembered, talking over the conversation on-screen. The smash cut to you being shoved against a wall, lips fighting for dominance in a searing kiss, made you chuckle. “This we had to do, like, a million takes.”
Bucky’s hand tightened into a fist at the idea of you kissing this guy over and over. “I’m sure he was real broken up about that,” he grumbled sardonically.
“No, I promise he actually was,” you defended, “I was terrible. I kept laughing and ruining it, and it meant we had to keep starting over.”
That relieved some of his jealousy, hopeful that laughing meant you weren’t attracted to your co-star or turned on by filming a love scene. He still felt his heart clench as he watched your shirt get pushed up and two hands (both flesh, like he was showing off or something) grab at your breasts. Sooner than he was prepared for it, you were being thrown down onto the bed and moaning loudly, nails digging into his back as he stared down at you.
“I can’t even imagine how many guys have gotten off to this scene,” you shuddered.
I can’t believe I’m one of them, Bucky thought as he swallowed dryly. “What about the guys on set?” he wondered aloud. “Do they ever, you know, get…” he whistled and pointed his finger up straight, hoping it was enough to get the idea across.
You laughed, playfully shoving him on the shoulder. “They have tape for that, to keep everything down in case they get a little too into it.”
Glancing to the screen, he wondered how this guy didn’t pop the tape right off.
“Have you ever…?” Bucky pressed, heart rate picking up as he pushed the boundaries a little bit.
“Have I ever… been turned on, while filming?” you finished his question. “No,” you scoffed, sounding bemused and taking another swig of your drink.
“Why not?”
“I guess they’re just not my type,” you shrugged.
“Movie stars aren’t your type?” Bucky joked, but your answer was completely serious.
“Nope.”
He nodded slowly as he contemplated that, taking a moment to build up the courage to ask his next question. “What is your type?”
You smirked a little, and he wasn’t sure at all what it meant aside from the fact that he was done for. Whatever you were gonna say was sure to break his heart. “Tall, dark, not famous…”
He could so picture you picking up fans at bars; you must have no trouble at all finding guys to mess around with. Yep, totally heartbreaking.
“Good driver…” you continued, voice a little quieter and a little deeper.
Bucky cleared his throat anxiously. “I guess that rules me out.”
“What? You’re great; haven’t even blown any red lights or made illegal U-turns.”
“I mean, good drivers don’t eavesdrop on their passengers,” he explained, “especially when they’re with tall, dark, not-famous friends of theirs in the back.”
You laughed a little, half-lidded eyes looking him up and down. He felt very exposed under your gaze. “I didn’t mind,” you shrugged.
Oh god, oh fuck, Bucky’s mind raced, we’re talking about it. All this time and we’re finally talking about it. What the fuck do I say? “I still shouldn’t have—” he began.
“I wanted you to,” you interrupted firmly.
“You… wanted me to look?”
“Wanted you to do a lot more than that,” you admitted.
He looked back at you with wide eyes, entirely devoid of thoughts or words or ideas on what to do in the moment. Sure, it was pretty heavy flirting, but it wasn’t necessarily an invitation. You said wanted, past tense, it didn’t mean you wanted him now. Maybe you were just letting him know he missed his chance. If he did the wrong thing and upset you, he’d never forgive himself.
“Seemed like you were pretty satisfied with what he was doing,” he remembered, hearing the waver in his voice and cringing.
“Only cause I was thinking about you,” you grinned. “I do that a lot, actually. I’m just usually alone when I do it…”
He shivered as you shifted onto your side and leaned towards him, reaching across his body to set your beer down on the bedside table next to him; with you so close, he feared his heart would beat out of his chest. With the beer set aside, all you had to do was let your hand pull back to rest on his chest, and lift your leg up to rest on his, and you were straddling his side like it was the most simple, casual thing in the world.
But it wasn’t. It was the most insane thing that had ever happened to him. He looked down at you and blinked a few times, confident the hallucation would end but nope, he could feel the warmth of you radiating through his clothes, threatening to burn him alive.
“I’m usually in this bed, right here,” you continued slowly, and he had trouble keeping track of what you were saying with your finger trailing along his chest through his shirt, “warm under the covers, wearing a lot less than this, knowing you’re just a few rooms away and wishing you would come in here and touch me…”
"I’m here now,” he replied, just louder than a whisper. “Can I touch you?"
“Take off the gloves,” you requested softly. He was quick with the right one, but hesitated before removing the left— the moment of truth. Your breath hitched as the light caught the golden and black metal, and he winced.
“That bad?”
“No, no,” you denied, “it’s… sort of beautiful, actually.”
With you wrapped around his left side, it was natural for his right hand to move up your thigh. His left hand brushing against your face seemed to surprise you, though.
"I'm sorry, is it cold?" he asked gently.
"A little," you giggled, "but I don't mind."
Demonstrating how little you minded, in fact, you slowly kissed the tips of his bionic fingers, getting more and more adventurous until you were suddenly slipping two of them into your mouth and down past your throat.
"Fuck," he shivered, silently thanking whatever gods were out there that technology made him capable of feeling the wet warmth of your mouth on his fingers.
"Just skin everywhere else, right?" you smirked. "It's not a Swiss army knife down there?"
"Nope," he laughed, "flesh an' blood."
The blood aspect was especially salient as his cock filled so fast he thought he might pass out. Your hand slipped down and started to ghost over the front of his jeans, and he fought every instinct to keep from bucking up into your hand. You started to go for his belt but he sat up a bit.
“Wait,” he requested, clutching your shoulders a little; as soon as you looked back at him, he pulled you into a kiss, probably a little too aggressively but he was too pent up to care. After all this waiting, he actually had to hold himself back a bit compared to how he really wanted to kiss you. He moved his lips against yours slowly but with determination— and it was you, in the end, that started to slide your tongue along his lips until he opened them, giving him a chance to taste your mouth like he’d dreamed of for so long. Past the beer was the unmistakable flavor of you, and he was instantly addicted to it. His arms wrapped around you and held you close, one hand tangling in your hair a bit as you started to lean into his palm. Your hands clutched at his shirt, the warmth of your touch managing to permeate through to his skin, and he heard the softest moan from you right against his lips. It was perfection, and he would’ve been happy to stay like that forever if it weren’t for you sitting up to straddle him. He couldn’t decide if it was the sight of you on top of him, or the weight of your body on his, or the feeling of your thighs clenching a bit just above his throbbing cock— it was probably all three, but he suddenly became so needy for you that his head was spinning.
Still absorbed in the kiss, he reached down and gently pulled at the knot holding your robe shut, letting it fall open before pushing it off your shoulders slowly. You smiled against his lips and sat up, taking it off the rest of the way to reveal your entire nudity underneath. You’d think that he would’ve wished to be naked with you, and that certainly would’ve made a few of his ideas a lot easier to act upon, but something about your bare body compared to his covered one— something about your mound grinding on his jeans like that— drove him fucking wild.
“God, baby,” he praised with a purr, running his hands all over whatever he could reach. A movie could never do a body like this justice. It deserved to be appreciated and worshipped in person, which was exactly what he planned to do.
“Your turn,” you giggled as you leaned down, unbuttoning his shirt hastily. He was proud of the way you bit down on your lip as his skin was exposed, though he was also a bit embarrassed to reveal he was wearing his dog tags underneath. “A little more metal under here than I was expecting,” you smirked, trailing an errant finger over the silver chain. “There’s always more to you than meets the eye… what other secrets are you hiding, hm?”
Right now, he wanted you to have all his secrets. He wanted to give you everything. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he admitted first.
“I don’t think that’s that much of a secret,” you smirked as you finished the last button.
He sat up to help you discard the shirt, shivering as your touch trailed over his chest, his abs; then his scars, and the rest of the arm. He used it to pull you down by your neck for another kiss, testing the waters by getting a touch rougher and letting more of his desperation seep through. You responded very well, your moans gliding from your tongue onto his as your hips started to rock on top of his. “Needy little thing, aren’t ya?” he gently mocked, smiling as he started to kiss down your neck and onto your shoulder. “Ridin’ me through my jeans, like a damn teenager dry-humping after prom.”
“Hnng, Bucky,” you choked, slowing down.
He grabbed your hips with both hands. “Hey, I didn’t say to stop.”
With a moan and renewed vigor, you moved faster on top of him, the rough denim clearly a bit too much for your sensitive clit as your thighs began to quiver where they were clamped down around his. The stimulation on his cock, alternatively, was rather dulled through such thick clothing— it was just enough to keep him desperate, but not enough to get him too near coming, which was the way he wanted it at the moment. If anything, it was the sight of you rubbing yourself on him desperately that put his restraint at risk.
“Can you feel how hard I am, baby?” he growled a little. “Can you feel how hard you make me?”
You nodded with a little gasp. "God, Bucky, I want it in me now."
"Not yet, pretty girl,” he soothed with a smirk. “I need to taste you first."
He flipped you onto your back and settled on top of you between your legs; he kissed you one more time, resisting the urge to rub his hips on yours again before heading down south to suck your nipple between his lips. You were so sensitive, moaning loudly each time his tongue circled the bud, and he moaned at the feeling of the skin hardening against his tongue. He made sure to give some attention to the other one before making a show of kissing down your chest and stomach, looking back up at you with a stare that he could only hope carried all the weight that he was feeling.
"I get it," you grinned down at him, "this is how you reclaim your territory. You're gonna do what he did to me, but so much better until I can't even remember his name, right?"
"Sweetheart, you didn't even remember his name thirty seconds after it happened,” he reminded you between kisses, moving lower and lower on the bed.
"So you're not trying to assert dominance over sexual competition?" you pressed with a gleam of challenge in your eyes.
"You need to stop reading those evolutionary biology books," he laughed, but then got a bit more stern. "Think of it this way: I don't see any of those stupid boys as competition. They're nothing. It's you who needs to know that nobody can make you feel as good as I can."
That seemed to shut you up for the moment, and he smirked before getting back to work kissing along your spread thighs and shaking hips. He could already smell your need in the air, intoxicating to the point that he struggled to stay focused on mercilessly teasing you. He wanted to taste you so bad, but he needed to hear you beg him for it. He started with one finger gently exploring your folds, slow and light, until he felt your hips trying to push up into him for more stimulation. Then all he had to do was kiss that spot right on the inside of your thigh that wasn’t quite where you wanted him, and you arched your back with a desperate whine. “Bucky, please,” you whimpered.
He laughed a little, amused by your little sobs and the way your hands clutched at the comforter beneath you. “Tell me what you need, sweetheart.”
“Your mouth,” you gasped.
“Where do you want it?” he asked innocently.
You snarled with irritation but answered anyway. “My pussy.”
“I don’t think I understand,” he encouraged, voice getting deeper on accident as his own arousal became too intense to ignore.
You growled frustratedly but got what he was getting at. “I need your mouth on my pussy, Bucky, please…”
“Well, why didn’t you say so, darlin’? All you had to do was ask,” he grinned as he roughly grabbed your thighs and buried his face in between them, sloppily exploring you with his tongue until your taste coated his mouth and overwhelmed all his senses.
“Fuck!” you yelped, shivering against him. “Oh god, yes, Bucky, oh my god…”
“Is this what you wanted, pretty girl?” he asked, pulling back just as much as he needed to to speak.
“Yes, Bucky, just like that,” you nodded wildly, “feels so good, don’t fucking stop, please—”
He dove in again, finding a pattern that allowed him to suck on your clit and push his tongue inside you simultaneously. That was the combination that seemed to rile you up most, your hands searching for something to hold on to until they suddenly found purchase gripping his hair, guiding him as your hips bucked against his face. That was fine with him— more than that, in fact, cause he thought it was so sexy when you demanded control like that— until you switched from pulling him in to pushing him away. That wouldn’t do at all; with a growl, he grabbed your wrists and forced them down beside you, holding them firm as he licked at you rougher and faster.
“Fuck, Bucky,” you sobbed, back arching so much that he had to fight to keep you in his mouth, “right there, right there— oh fuck, I’m gonna come.”
He nodded, but it wasn’t permission; it was ‘of course you are.’
Your walls clenched so hard that your entire sex was pulsing in his mouth, your taste getting stronger in the same way your moans got louder. He wanted to hold you there as long as you could, and that turned out to be quite a while; he stopped when your screams of pleasure started to push too far into pain, finally letting you rest… for a moment, that is.
He watched your panting breaths catch as he slowly pushed a finger into your hole; it was still pulsing a little bit from the orgasm, and was unbearably hot and wet.
"Fuck, this pretty little pussy is tryin' to suck me in, you see that? Wants me so bad…"
"M-more, Bucky, please," you whispered. He obeyed and slipped in a second finger, slowly twisting and trying to open you up for him.
"You like that, pretty girl?" he asked with a smile as he watched your back arch, returning to suck on your clit without waiting for an answer. He relished the weight of your thighs on his shoulders, taking mental note of where he had to touch you to make them clench around his head. You kept repeating 'yes' but he didn't think it was intended as an answer to his question because he was pretty sure you hadn't even heard the question. Still, it was answer enough nonetheless.
He could tell it wouldn't take that long to get you there again, with your g-spot all swollen from the last one. He didn't push too hard on it yet, just letting his fingers curl ever so slightly to apply a teasing amount of pressure.
"Don't you wanna fuck me?" you moaned between sobs.
His cock seemed to process that question before his brain did. "Yes," he answered quickly, even though he thought it was rude to talk with his mouth full.
"Then get on with it," you suggested desperately. "Come on up here and fuck me."
"I'm not done with this yet," he insisted.
Your head fell back as you hissed frustratedly through your teeth. "Damn you and your… thoroughness."
"No point in doing anything if you're not gonna do it right," he laughed. "Besides, I couldn't stop now when you're about to come."
You looked back at him for a second like you didn't agree with that assessment, until he curled his fingers again and your walls rippled erratically around him. "Fuck," you shuddered. “Please fuck me, please fuck me, please,” you sobbed, “I need it so bad, I need you inside me— Bucky, pleasepleaseplease—”
He growled against your skin, struggling to resist that but desperate to make you come just one more time before he gave in. His cock really hated that he wasn’t giving you what you wanted, throbbing and weeping another drop of precum just to remind him of his own desperation. But he stayed strong, focusing on his task as he felt your walls tighten around him with another orgasm.
You nearly screamed with this one, your voice breaking as your nails dug into the bed beneath you. You looked fucking perfect with your head thrown back in pleasure like that— and you tasted even better as a gush of your arousal coated his tongue.
He kept circling your bud with his tongue until you started to sob a little and try to push him off of you, “can’t take anymore, please—”
And he took pity on you, for once— or maybe it was moreso pity on himself as he sat up and palmed himself through his jeans. He was so hard it hurt, and you looked like you could tell by the way you looked up at him: a glimmer of mischief in your eyes, still, even with the way they’d glazed over a bit from coming so hard. “Get over here,” you purred as you sat up and pulled him down on top of you, kissing him again as your hands slipped down to clutch at his chest.
Of everything he’d imagined, he had never even thought to consider what it would be like to be undressed by you. Those nimble fingers fiddling with his belt, working open his fly and zipper with such unabashed desperation, like you needed him more than you’d ever needed anything… truly, it was intoxicating.
Then again, it was nothing compared to your hand slipping into his boxers and wrapping around his cock. He was sure he’d never gotten so much out of just one touch before, and he had to fight off the moan bubbling in his throat. Your hands were so soft as they started to gently stroke him; his hips moved of their own accord as they started to thrust into your grasp.
“God, I need you to fuck me,” you groaned, “please, Bucky, need it so bad.”
Entirely speechless as this point, all he could do was nod as he pushed your hands off of him, pushing his jeans off quickly so as to be away from you as briefly as he could manage— and then he was on you again, kissing you everywhere he could reach, moaning when he finally let his cock brush between your legs for a moment. Even just that and he was already coated in your slick: the rewards of demanding to be thorough, clearly.
“Please,” you sobbed, “put it in me, can’t wait any more, I’ve waited so long…”
It almost made him stop to think, because it was ambiguous if you just meant tonight or more. But you were begging him for his cock so he wasn’t really in any position to think.
So many times he had wondered if your real moans sounded anything like your fake ones from the movie. He fantasized for months about a chance to make the comparison. But with you in front of him, under him, biting down on your lip as he pushed into your perfect warmth, he couldn’t even remember that you’d ever been in a movie. He couldn’t think about anything else but this moment, right now, and he didn’t want to.
“God, Bucky,” you sighed, as if the two were being regarded at the same level in your mind— and he wasn't even halfway in yet.
Equal parts of him wanted to ease you into it and to tear you in half. You'd always ignited this paradox in him, this instinct to protect and to destroy, this desire to cherish you and dominate you, but it was most apparent now. It made him worry that he could never really give you what you deserved, but naturally, he was at his most selfish in this moment. He had only just begun to push himself into you and he was ready to justify anything to get the rest of the way and bury himself to the hilt.
Your body opened up to him slightly, enough that he felt mostly right about going a little deeper; you gasped and clutched at his forearm, and that was only just barely enough to stop him as a sick pressure of arousal made his gut twist. Oddly enough, your nails biting into his skin did more to egg him on than it did to slow him down.
He kept his eyes trained on where your bodies were joined, watching in awe at the way you looked stretched out around him; he could feel your struggle to take him in the way your walls quivered and quaked, but he could hear how much you enjoyed it as you moaned and gasped beneath him.
"I want it all, Bucky, please," you begged. Just because he needed to, he was rough with the last inch— not enough for it to be really brutal, but plenty to elicit a precious little sob from you.
It felt so good to be all the way in you that it nearly made him dizzy.
"Baby," you whispered, and it sounded just like the way you'd said it in the back of the car, just like the way he'd committed to memory and stowed away in his mind to visit whenever he needed to feed his addiction.
How could his chest not burn with jealousy when he remembered that night? How could he cope with that jealousy with anything but pinning you down and fucking you hard and fast like it was the end of the goddamn world?
You all but screamed as he did it, your whole body shaking as he pounded into you. He feared it would be more than you could handle but you went from wet to dripping in an instant, your moans loud and hoarse but undeniably a sound of pleasure. It turned him on even more to know that you liked getting fucked this hard; maybe he didn't need to worry so much about holding back, if this was gonna make you bite your lip and look up at him like that.
"Bucky, oh my god," you sighed, a hint of disbelief in your tone, "it's so good, fuck, you feel so good…"
He wanted to hear more, but he couldn't resist capturing your lips in a kiss first, sloppy and aggressive and needy but overall perfect. It was almost like he could taste your moans as they vibrated over his tongue, until he could barely tell his apart from yours anymore. Pulling back, his dog tags were dangling over your face, and you looked so damn good with his name tickling your skin.
When he lifted your legs and pushed them back up into your chest, you snarled and clutched at the sheets beneath you. "Too deep?" he asked, not sure himself if it was concern or taunting or somewhere in the middle.
"So fucking deep," you answered, "but not too deep."
"Then maybe I'm not deep enough," he smirked, and you laughed.
"You're trying to ruin me, is that it?" you pressed.
He was afraid to be entirely honest, but your tone wasn't one of fear. "Something like that," he admitted after a moment.
"It's working," you sighed as you pulled him down by the chain of his tags, kissing him again as your arms slipped around his neck and held him close.
His hands squeezed your thighs, before taking a detour to run up and down your legs. It made you shiver, and he felt it from inside you which was overwhelmingly erotic. The time he’d spent making you come so many times was paying off: for one, you were so wet it made him feel a little-lightheaded, but also it meant that he felt familiar with your body now. He knew what it meant when your walls tightened just so, when you bit your lip that way, when your moans sounded all breathy and strained. That being, of course, that you were about to come— and he couldn’t wait for you to come just from being fucked, make a mess all over his cock.
And yet, there was still so much more to discover: like how it felt when your legs wrapped around his hips to keep him inside, or when your fingers dug into his shoulders as you looked up at him.
“Gonna come,” you warned him with half-lidded eyes and your mouth fallen slack, “oh my god, Bucky, you’re gonna make me come.”
He growled and tightened his grip on your thigh— something to stabilize him as he fought so hard to stave off his own orgasm. You felt so good and he could probably come just from the sight of you like this anyways, let alone being inside you right now. Think about baseball think about baseball think about baseball—
“Yes!” you screamed. “Right there, oh fuck, Buckyyyyy!”
“Fuck,” he hissed, completely unable to think about anything but you, lost in the way you cried out his name as your walls fluttered and pulsed around him so perfectly.
Maybe he was disturbed for thinking you looked pretty with your eyes filling with tears. He was definitely disturbed for taking some pride in making you cry. Of course, only because he was making you cry from this. If he had it his way, Bucky would make you cry in only this way, every day, forever— and make sure nobody made you cry in any other way, while he was at it. You hiccuped your sob as he continued to pound into you, refusing to let up even as he leaned down to kiss away your tears. “S-so good,” you mumbled weakly, “Bucky… please…”
"Fuck, gonna come— I'm gonna come," he stammered his warning.
"Inside me, please," you whimpered, "I want it inside me."
"Jesus Christ," he hissed, shaking his head in some form of exhausted shock. You grinned, wrapping your hands around his neck and pulling him closer to you until your lips brushed against his ear.
"Bucky, I want you to come inside me," you repeated in a slow whisper. "I want every drop of your come in my pussy, I wanna be so full of you, I wanna feel it leaking out all night, I want you to make me yours."
How was he supposed to hold back anymore, with you talking like that? With you weaving your fingers into his hair and tightening your legs around his hips, with you kissing him deeply and suddenly? A weak moan was lost to your lips as he filled you, warmth washing over every part of him until he thought he might just melt. You smiled against him, and he summoned just enough strength to not collapse on top of you and surely crush you with his weight. Instead, he gave you one last kiss before burying his face in your neck, laughing exhaustedly.
"Mine, huh?” he remembered. “You really mean it?"
You hummed quietly, holding him tightly. "I probably shouldn't answer that question just after you made me come a dozen times."
"No no, you should,” he pressed as he pushed up to hover over you.
You smiled and looked back up at him. "I'm yours, Bucky."
He growled, leaning down to give your neck light teasing kisses. "Fuck, keep talkin' like that and I'll double that dozen."
"My body couldn't take it," you asserted.
"I'd make you take it," he promised.
You bit down on your lip, and he couldn't help but chuckle a little. You weren't as good at feigning innocence as you seemed to think.
"Oh, you like that," he posited. "Maybe someday I'll tie you down and make you come until all you know how to do is say my name, hm?"
"Bet it wouldn't even take you that long," you admitted. "I already feel pretty braindead."
Testing that theory, he reached down and drew light circles over your swollen clit with his thumb, even just that subtle touch making your legs and inner walls quiver as your back arched.
"Bucky," you whimpered as you tried to push his hand away, "s'too much, please…"
"Nuh uh, pretty girl, I wanna see you fall apart again. You know how many times I dreamed of making you come?"
You shook your head.
"Me either, but I wanna keep doing it until I feel like I've reached a number that at least comes close. I've finally got you in my arms and I won't let you go until I've made up for all the time I wasted."
Notably, his cock which had begun to soften inside you was now getting hard again, from some combination of watching you and feeling you in this moment.
“How do you feel about a second round?” he suggested with a smirk, even as his muscles ached already. Your eyes went wide but your walls clenched, too. That was answer enough for him. “I might break you,” he warned.
“Promise?” you smirked.
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#21 and #46 for kiss prompts, maybe? I can't get enough your writing tbf
kiss on a dare- a little jonmartin season one fluff <3
All in all, this is one of Tim’s better Friday nights.
It’s been ages since Jon’s hung out with them, and never with Martin along for the ride. The Archives had been off to a messy start after the Dog Incident and Jon’s subsequent panic over the state of the place. What used to be an ‘every couple of weeks’ tradition turned into an almost-never one as the newly-assembled team got buried under more and more boxes of dusty statements. He’s pretty astounded that Jon agreed to dinner and drinks- although it’s a Friday night, Jon’s been apt to stay weekends more often than not. He figured if he arranged for it at one of theirs instead of a pub, Jon would be more likely to come. He always preferred less crowded settings.
No, the real feat was getting him to come knowing Martin was invited.
Jon’s been getting...better around him, that’s true. He was perfectly fine at his birthday party, going off about emulsifiers for a solid fifteen minutes. Tim’s always been rather fond of Jon’s infodumping, and if he’s comfortable enough to do it around Martin that must be a good sign. Despite an initial freeze-out, he now thanks Martin for his tea and saves his most pointed comments for Martin’s more egregious screw-ups (and even those have less bite than usual). Still, a colleague does not a friend make, and Jon’s never been good at opening up to people he doesn’t know all that well. However, Jon just nodded at the Martin caveat, seemingly not giving it a second thought. And Martin didn’t seem all that worried either.
Whatever, Tim’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He’s just happy they’re all here, having a good time. It’s late and Jon’s had enough wine to keep a smile on his face. He missed that. It’s nice how easily they slot together, even with all of the upheaval and a new addition. Martin himself isn’t so shy after a drink or two, more willing to engage in banter and keep the conversation going. This is what it should be like all the time, Tim thinks. Shitty archive job or not.
It’s when they retire to the living room, drinks in hand, that he finally notices the little grin on Sasha’s face. And Tim, knowing exactly what that means, is both a little afraid and excited. Four-drink-Sasha has always been a host unto herself.
“Why don’t,” she begins, a hiccup interrupting her as she slumps into an armchair. Tim snickers and ignores the glare this earns him. “Why don’t we play one of our old games-”
Tim raises a glass in agreement as Jon, predictably, groans. Martin looks quizzically between them. Ah yes, time for your initiation, Marto! Not that they’ve played this in about a year or so, of course, but it's always fun to revisit the good old days.
“Seriously? We’re not children-”
Tim gives Jon a playful slap on the back that sends him flying forward on the couch, spilling a bit of wine on Sasha’s rug. He hopes she doesn’t notice. “C’mon, it’ll be fun, boss! Nothing like it to break the ice, and there’s definitely some ice that needs breaking.”
Martin blinks, hand tightening on his glass. He looks nervous, like he always does when he doesn’t know exactly what’s going on. Which is a shame, because he’s been so nice and open all night. Even chatting with Jon. “Sorry, what are you talking about?”
Jon rolls his eyes, giving Martin a commiserating look. “Truth or dare.”
Martin lets out a disbelieving laugh, relaxing minutely. “Wait, really?”
“Yes, really.” Jon’s foot reaches out to shove at Tim’s leg. “Tim loves pulling ridiculous stunts-”
“-Hey, you loved the karaoke idea-”
“You sing?”
“No.” Tim would dispute that, but the look on Jon’s face declares it a bad idea. “And Sasha likes to ask probing questions.”
Sasha preens, though the remark was certainly not meant as a compliment. “What can I say, I’m the Queen of Truth-”
Tim snorts. “Hacking and blackmail more like-”
“Anyway-” Sasha sings out as Tim dodges a pillow to the face. “Tim….truth or-”
“Dare, always dare.”
“You’re absolutely no fun,” Sasha pouts, though it doesn’t take long for her eyes to narrow in thought. There’s very little Tim won’t do, but that’s a dangerous look. “I dare you...to text…”
“Text? You can do better than that, Sash.”
“Text...Elias.” That’s more like it.
Jon immediately scowls. “Tim, no-”
“I don’t have his number-”
“I do-”
“Sasha!”
“Jon, it’ll be fine! He’ll just say ‘oops, wrong number’ afterwards, no harm, no foul-”
Tim takes this time to snatch at Sasha’s phone, sitting precariously on the arm of her chair. She doesn’t notice, too busy gesturing at Jon empathically. He scrolls through her contact list.
“And then it’ll come down on me-”
Sasha rolled her eyes. “How is he going to connect it to you? It’s not like he knows we’re all together-”
“Done!” Tim tosses the phone back onto the couch with a little grin. Sasha blinks, looking down in confusion.
“Wait, that’s mine-”
The screech and smack on the arm at Tim’s hastily fired off ‘u up? ;)’ to Elias Bouchard were definitely deserved. He’s sure he’ll face consequences for that in the near future, but Jon and Martin’s immediate laughter had been well worth it. Shouldn’t dish it if you can’t take it, that’s Tim’s motto.
In the next round, Tim manages to get Martin to confess to his poetry-writing habit, an admission that has him turning an attractive shade of red. Jon just giggles quietly to himself as Martin reads through one of his poorer attempts at rhyme saved to the notes of his mobile. Tim watches the two of them; Martin keeps looking up at Jon throughout it all like he’s the only one in the room and god, his crush is so evident and yet Jon is oblivious, smiling at him like he’s not on the receiving end of some of the most loaded glances of all time.
Martin gets Sasha to admit to her most recent perusal through confidential institute records, which turned out to be previous archival expenses (solely to find out what Elias would cover with their new jobs, of course). At first glance, there wasn’t much in the way of extravagant meals or supplies, but a bit more digging had her finding Gertrude’s extensive travel budget. For an old woman, she certainly was a globe-trotter.
“All I’m saying, Jon, is that we could definitely do with a trip to China-”
“Yes, I’ll be sure to ask Elias about Gertrude’s trip to China, something I certainly shouldn’t know about, and he’ll have to let us go.”
“Refill?” Martin’s on his feet, taking Jon’s wine glass in his hand and Tim watches as their fingers brush- go Martin!- and yet Jon just nods his thanks, completely oblivious to the seduction taking place before him. Tim’s given it some thought and honestly, he thinks they’d make a cute couple. An odd pair, for sure, but Jon’s so soft once you get to know him, and Martin’s one of the funniest, sweetest guys he knows. They could be good for each other.
“Well, I still think it’s worth a try.” Sasha’s eyes are starting to blink heavily - she’ll be out for the count tonight, for sure. “Anyway, it’s your turn. I dare you-”
“I didn’t even pick!” Jon says, though he doesn’t seem too put out by it. This is the Jon Martin should know, the easy-humored, smiling man sprawled out before him. He’s even taken his little sweater vest and tie off, looking more like the familiar friend from research Tim knows so well. It warms his heart.
“Fine. Truth or dare?”
“Dare, I suppose. Seeing as how you already have one queued up.”
“I dare you to...to...to give a little kiss to someone in this room.” She waves her glass around imperiously. “Anyone you like.”
Silence. Tim gives Sasha a warning look that she ignores. She’s well in her cups, and he supposes any sense of propriety has gone out the window along with her sobriety. He’s actually seen Jon give quite a few kisses on a particularly memorable New Years Eve, but that was a different time. He doesn’t want him to feel pressured, not when he’s just starting to open back up.
“Jon doesn’t have to if he doesn’t want to-”
Sasha rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, you remember-”
“It doesn’t matter- Jon, you can skip this one if you like, we can think of something else-”
“Tim, it’s alright.” Jon puts a hand on his arm to stop the argument, and there’s a strange look in his eyes that can’t be attributed to liquor. It’s mock-serious, almost playful paired with his little sly smile. He thinks for a moment that Jon’s going to lean in and kiss him but instead he gets up from the sofa in a smooth motion and walks across the room to Martin, who’s just turned around with two glasses in hand. He freezes in place as Jon gets on his very tippy toes, takes his face in both hands, and kisses him.
Jonathan Sims. Kissing Martin Blackwood. Against a kitchen counter. Martin Blackwood, who, once he’s over his surprise, puts the drinks down behind him and kisses right the hell back, arms winding around Jon’s waist like they belong there.
What. The. Fuck.
_____
“The leg bit was a nice touch.”
“Hmm?” Jon’s in Martin’s lap, sprawled out on his couch back at his own flat, eyes closed in contentment as he leans back against the other man’s chest. Martin’s got one hand in his hair, and the other entwined with Jon’s, twirling the black ring on his finger. It’s heavenly.
“Thought you were trying to climb me.”
“Well, you usually pick me up at that point, make it easier.”
“Sorry, next time.” Kissing Jon’s always fun but kissing him out in the open, in front of their friends? Was that something they could do now? “Should we tell them we’ve been dating for two months?”
Two whole months since that night in Document Storage when Jon had finally let his guard down. When Martin had held him in his arms. Jon was very particular about keeping up appearances, though that all seemed to have crumbled tonight. Sasha rather fashioned herself a matchmaker, and Jon didn’t do anything to dissuade the fact. It’d been nice, having their relationship to themselves, the secret of it, the obliviousness of their friends who still thought Jon only tolerated him. It’s not that he wanted to keep it that way, of course, but it was nice while they were still figuring it out.
“If you’d like. Maybe it’s time.” Jon tilts his head back, giving Martin a fond look. “Though I know how much you enjoy playing the lovesick fool-”
“There’s something so poetic about unrequited love, yknow?”
“All the more when it’s requited, I’d say.” Martin couldn’t argue with that. He leans down to give Jon’s forehead a peck.
“Hmm. Give it a few more weeks. Act out the honeymoon phase for a bit, it’ll be fun.”
And when Jon squeezes his hand and smiles back, Martin thinks he won’t need to do much acting at all.
ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31318724
#tma#the magnus archives#my writing#jonathan sims#martin blackwood#jonmartin#fluff#kiss prompts#i have a little backstory to how they got together in this one that maybe one day i will write#but heres a lil something something#jonmartin secret dating is fun okay#v enjoyable#jaybirdsfall#reblogs appreciated <3
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Ranboo's death but Fate's Favorite flavored Endersmile
bro ur literally so evil and fucked up for this one /pos have two fun little things i wrote !! not sure which one i prefer so i wrote both, but they're unlinked and also unlinked with canon in that au :)) hope u enjoy!
warnings: MAJOR character death, MAJOR grief, emotional distress, unhealthy coping mechanisms, blood, minor character death, hurt no comfort, c!ranboo hurt, c!dream hurt
Dream fights like he has nothing let to lose.
Tommy hadn't realised how much he'd been holding back until this fight - Wilbur's had to pull him out of the way of Dream's aura more than once, the purple glow dangerous and volatile and leaving anyone that walks into it a rambling lunatic. The archvillain isn't shielding anyone from his powers: villains and heroes alike drop, and Tommy fears the fight against Dream isn't one he can ever win.
Something has happened. Something has changed Dream, and he doesn't know what.
He soon finds out.
One-on-one battle with Dream is killing him. Eyes watering under the strain of dodging Dream's attacks while also focusing on boosting every other hero's power, Tommy feels himself tiring: it's only a matter of time, he knows, before he's caught out, before Dream kills him for good.
So he goes to his next best strategy: talking.
"What's up, green man?" He taunts, slamming his shield into a burst of pure power that shoots from Dream. "Wake up on the wrong side of the bed? You're being more villainous and evil and fucked up than usual."
"Tommy." Dream's voice is hell; croaky and ragged, but his words never falter. "Not today."
If he'd been smarter, he would have listened. Instead, Tommy grits his teeth and laughs. "Why? There is something, isn't there? What is it? Did you step in dog shit on the way here? Lose your favourite mug? Bet it's something stupid-"
This time, he misses the sword Dream pulls out, and barely manages to counter it in time. His own axe clashing against Dream's sword sends a throb up his wrist, and Tommy swears darkly under his breath.
"Tommy," Dream spits, "drop it."
"Get in a fight with your little apprentice?" Tommy mocks, past caring now, and from the sudden stillness that settles over Dream's posture, he knows he's hit the nail on the head. "HAH! I mean, I knew you were a shit friend, but if other fuckin' villains think that too, that really takes the fucking cake. How'd you mess up?? Too much of a little bitch that they don't wanna hang out with you anymore?"
Dream is silent. And then he's not. And then he's sneering, the expression etched into an ugly permanence on his face, and then he's sending purple daggers whizzing at Foolish and Puffy, piercing their shields like butter and peppering their skin with splatters of burning purple power.
"He died." The words come crisp, jagged, from Dream's mouth. He looks a mess: now that he's closer, Tommy cringes at the sight of the tension radiating from the other's body, cringes at the twitch of his hands, cringes at the greasy hair and venomous words. "He died, Tommy."
And maybe, maybe, if he'd been a better person - maybe, Tommy thinks after, if he'd been less hurt by Dream, if he'd been to therapy, if he'd been kinder - he might not have smiled at that, might not have laughed in Dream's face at that.
"Aw," he says, savouring the brittle, vicious expression on Dream's lips, "that's what happens when you care about people, Dream. Isn't that what you told me?"
Dream snarls, wordless in his devastation, and Tommy knows immediately that he's made a mistake.
---
"Ranboo!"
It's the cry of a man losing something he didn't realise he could lose. It tears itself from someone's throat in the middle of battle, and Tommy is horrified by the sound of it; horrified, even more so, because he recognises that name, because he's fearful it's Tubbo screaming like that, voice shot to hell and back, ripping through the clash of swords and the general din of fighting.
But Tubbo isn't at this battle. Tubbo is fighting against the Egg and BadBoyHalo, hundreds of miles away - it's only him and Wilbur and a handful of L'Manburg's best fighters against Dream and his little apprentice, which means-
Which means-
Tommy is shoved to the side by a blur of green barrelling past him, quicker than he can let his brain process. Staggering, he's steadied by Wilbur, who watches ahead, lips pressed tightly together, something like justice and regret twisting through his gaze.
Because the green blur is Dream, and he's heading for his apprentice, who is on their hands and knees, gently cupping their side - there's a dagger sticking out of his side, twisted upwards and ripping a gash down his side, and it doesn't take much to know it's fatal.
Which means-
Which means, Tommy realises, numb horror growing into a cavern in his chest, that the scream had belonged to Dream.
The villain is on his hands and knees in front of his apprentice, holding him up, but the boy is slumping forwards, clearly already half-dead. Dream whispers, half beside himself, and Tommy can't make out the words, despite half the battle ceasing, stopping - nobody has heard that noise leave Dream's mouth before, or anyone's: the cry of grief, regret, the cry that signals he'd known it was too late to save him even before he'd fallen.
And then the boy goes still, lifeless in Dream's bloodied hands, and Dream goes still, clutching onto his apprentice- no, Tommy thinks, chest tightening, they'd been more than master and apprentice.
The kid had been Dream's family, hadn't he?
And now he's dead.
And now he's dead, and Dream isn't moving, but his powers are: Wilbur barely pulls Tommy down fast enough to avoid the burst of purple that comes rushing at them, millions of tiny shards of glass exploding out from Dream's aura, that crackles around him more dangerously than anyone has seen it before. And it's only now that Tommy understands how much Dream has been holding back, only now that he realises the extent of Dream's power - around them, heroes and villains alike drop dead, purple shards embedded in their skin, and Dream barely seems to notice. His attention is fixed on the body in his arms, breathing ragged, head bowed.
There's blood pooling around him. Tommy and Wilbur, not daring to stand up for fear of another explosion, exchange glances.
He hasn't felt this helpless in a long, long time.
"If you come after me now," Dream eventually says, voice shot to hell and back, "I will kill you. And I'll revive you. And I'll kill you again and revive you until your soul is nothing but dust."
Wilbur says nothing. Tommy sees his brother's hand curl around his bow.
"Okay," Tommy says, before Wilbur can do anything, "okay. We- We won't follow. We won't do anything, Dream. Just leave."
With the weight of the universe crushing him, Dream gets to his feet, and gently pushes Ranboo's body into a lying position. And he doesn't once look back as he picks up the body of his little brother and walks away, cradling the body more gently than Tommy thought him capable of.
They don't see Dream again for a few weeks, don't hear anything from him.
And when they do, he's undone.
warnings: MAJOR character death, MAJOR grief, emotional distress, unhealthy coping mechanisms, blood, minor character death, hurt no comfort
#> fate's favourites fic#> my writing !!#> c!endersmile#> endersmile#tw character death#tw death#tw grief#tw emotional distress#tw unhealthy coping mechanisms#tw blood#tw wounds#tw injury#tw hurt no comfort
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Adrien and Sawdust part 6
cw: pet whump, whump recovery, bodily mutilation, self harm, brief and vague mention of past noncon, dehumanization, conditioned whumpee, unreliable narrator, brief mention of dissociation
masterlist
Sawdust was searching for his bag the second Master was gone. He hopped out of bed, punctuated with a fit of dizziness as he got to his feet, and crawled around the room looking for his duffel bag. The bright blue bag was nowhere to be found, and Sawdust wasn’t great at seeing in the dark either.
He started to wonder, to second guess himself. Did Master put the bag somewhere in the room and Sawdust just isn’t seeing it? Is he overlooking it? Did he even have a bag at all? Did it come with him to this new house, or was it left with his previous master? No, no, he remembered seeing it next to his kennel with those other people.
If he left the room now, Master would surely hear it and question him, or worse, punish him for disturbing his sleep. As much as Sawdust wanted his ears back, he just had to trust that Master would return them in due time.
Sleeping was difficult without the familiar squeeze of his headband around his head, but with a full stomach he managed to eventually fall asleep even if it took a while.
Sunlight came all too soon for Sawdust. The light peeked through the curtains and he couldn’t physically sleep any more. He was dreading going downstairs and having to face his master, having to eat beside him. He could only imagine what his master was going to do to him. Would he record him? Bring his friends over and show him how pathetic and stupid he looked eating out of a bowl on the floor? Sawdust shook himself out of his thoughts; he was just a dog anyways, he shouldn’t have enough of an ego to be embarrassed.
He was getting himself out of bed, going down onto his hands and knees when he heard a soft knock on the door, followed by Master’s quiet voice.
“Sawdust?” Master said from the other side of the heavy wooden door. “Come on, let’s go get some food.”
Sawdust got to the door and opened it with his paw, stepping out and following Master.
Master gave him a bowl of dog food once he was downstairs. Sawdust half contemplated asking Master about his ears, but really, if Master had taken them away then it was because Sawdust did not deserve them any more.
“Master,” Sawdust murmured, “Is- is there anything your pet can- can do? To assist?”
Master looked thoughtful for a moment then laughed, laughed at Sawdust.
“I think my work stuff is a bit advanced for you,” Master took a bite of his own food, “I want you to focus on… recovery, for now. Okay? That means you rest up and come get me if you want anything, food, water, whatever.”
Sawdust nodded, “Yes, Master,” before he continued eating, the hard kibble crunching satisfyingly between his teeth. He couldn’t work up the courage to ask Master about the ears or his bag, or where they’ve gone.
Lunch and dinner went similarly, with Master coming, getting his pet, and taking him downstairs to eat. Each time Sawdust couldn’t work himself up enough to ask Master about his ears. The lack of his ears made Sawdust feel… Wrong. Like he wasn’t a real dog, like he was a subpar pet. He wasn’t good enough to this new Master who had otherwise been so kind to him. What had he done to deserve this?
Night eventually fell, and Sawdust did his best to do as Master said and get to sleep. He curled up in the nest of blankets and pillows that his Master had made in the corner for him, and let himself begin to drift off. As he was doing so, he couldn’t help but wonder why his Master was withholding his belongings from him. Nevertheless, his eyelids grew heavy, and he eventually fell into a deep sleep.
--
Adrien was still getting accustomed to feeding someone using a dog bowl, with dog food, on the floor. It was a strange experience, and doing it made him feel dirty, but it was all Sawdust was going to accept so if it was between that or making the pet starve again, he would have to go with the former.
He was still very aware of just how lost he was in all of this. He searched the internet and scoured his social media for something that could give him some kind of life preserver in all of this. Finally, finally, he found something. A chatroom for pet owners. From the looks of it, it was heavily moderated and geared more towards pet liberation activists, and pet rehabbers, and people who actually cared for their pets. He requested to join and was accepted within the hour. He immediately sent a message to the ‘help’ section.
Adrien:
>> Hey guys, I’m a new owner and I didn’t do as much research as I should have.
>> Long story short, I didn’t keep as close an eye on my pet as I should’ve, and he ended up not eating because I wasn’t giving him dog food. Is that a normal thing? How can I help him?
It wasn’t five minutes before one of the other owners responded,
1Y4N4:
>> oof, thats no good dude.. definitely watch him harder and probably just stick to feeding him what he wants for now. u said hes new right? let him stay in his comfort zone for a little bit probably
Adrien:
>> Thanks. I’ll do that.
1Y4N4:
>> np, im a bit more experienced as an owner but i dont think mine were as conditioned as urs
>> at least not in that way
Zo:
>> Bro wtf? You’re the source of your pet’s whole life and shit, you really should’ve done more research.
Adrien sat and watched as this ‘Zo’ person continued to rip into Adrien for his irresponsibility, though the ‘1Y4N4’ user at least tried to defend Adrien. It wasn’t long before Zo quieted down and 1Y4N4 was able to speak up again,
1Y4N4:
>> lots of actual dogs eat things that arent dog chow
>> maybe show your pet some videos of people feeding their dogs other stuff, maybe hell be more open then
Adrien thanked the user, and used the rest of his evening compiling some videos and researching, finding the outer bounds of what dogs could eat in hopes that he could convince Sawdust. It was far from exactly what he wanted, but he felt some semblance of satisfaction that there was at least a way to progress forwards.
--
Sawdust finally came up with a plan when he was coming out of the bathroom the next morning. It was before Adrien had gotten up. As Sawdust was leaving the bathroom, he caught sight of himself in the mirror.
His hair was all matted, and the fringe at his forehead was beginning to grow to hide his eyes. He looked lacking without his ears. There were deep circles under his eyes. At least the peaks of his cheeks and his lips were starting to regain some color now that he had a steady supply of food which he undoubtedly did not deserve. The scratched scar across his nose bridge and cheek that one of the other dogs gave him was still there. He looked at that and followed it across his face to his second ears.
His dumb second ears, the ones on either side of his head that his last master hated so much. His previous master had always told him that they made him look less like a dog, less like a pet, when a pet was all Sawdust ever wanted to be. Because if he wasn’t a pet, then he was a toy for both Master and the other dogs, and that was one step above the most reprehensible thing he could be. He had been downgraded to ‘toy’ for a short amount of time previously, and he was eternally grateful that he was never dropped even lower, to being nothing but food for the other dogs.
Master threatened that sometimes, chopping him up and feeding him to the other dogs.
Whenever Sawdust looked at himself in the mirror, he couldn’t help imagine it. Being cut up and thrown to other animals to eat. He found some part of himself that felt that- even if he could never do anything else right- he could do that right. He tried to halt that train of thought as quickly as he could, before his mind shunted him off to some dark, foggy place where he couldn’t think or feel until the bad thoughts went away.
But at the root of those thoughts, he found the problem, as well as the solution. He scrambled down to the kitchen as fast as he could go, wanting to work quickly before he could stop himself.
He got to the kitchen sink, and stood up on trembling, unused legs. They could hardly support his weight, he had to lean onto the granite countertop with his elbows as he reluctantly removed the tape from his paws using his teeth. He would need his fingers for this.
Sawdust’s breath was quick in his throat, the edges of his vision grew blurry as he tried to focus on this and only this. He had one task and he was not going to fail it. He wanted his ears back. He wanted his master to be happy with him again. Maybe this way he could earn his master’s attention and... Maybe even his affection, if a pet was allowed to hope.
Sawdust’s paws were shaky and clumsy as they took out the biggest knife out of the wooden blog. It was heavy and cold in his paw. With one paw he held the tip of one of his second ears and pulled it as far away from his head as he could.
The cold edge of the blade rested on his skin, at the valley between his second ear and his head. He squeezed his eyes shut, he couldn’t break down now, he couldn’t stop now. He took a deep, sharp breath and pressed down on the knife as hard as his feeble paws could.
--
Adrien shot out of bed to the sound of a piercing, howling scream from downstairs.
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