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lady-phasma · 1 month

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Don't look away

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x F!Reader

Stand alone, cross posted on AO3, app 2,800 words

Warning: 18+, NSFW, others I should add but it's Feyd

Summary: Feyd lives rent free in my head now. I’m working on an unrelated piece with an ofc but I wanted to share a pwp because this man is essentially walking and talking sex. Enjoy. Please ignore typos. This was a rush job LoL

my gif

You hold your breath as Feyd-Rautha circles you, appraising. His head is tilted down and he looks at you from under his brows. Your chest is tight. He is almost exactly what you expected after watching him in the arena. Yet, not quite. He steps in front of you.

“She’s acceptable,” he says to the Reverend Mother without looking away from you. You begin to slowly exhale. His eyes slide down to your parted lips. He slowly licks his.

“Leave us,” he growls and the Reverend Mother, the younger Bene Gesserit sister, and his Harpies slip out of the room. You glance over your shoulder as the door slides closed behind them.

“No,” he whispers as he turns your head back toward him, guiding you with his hand on your chin. His blue eyes flick from your eyes to your mouth then back again. As he smiles, you see the tips of his blackened teeth for the first time and catch yourself staring.

“‘No’, my lord na-Baron?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. He is standing close enough to hear you regardless. He nods once and drops his hand from your chin, grazing the backs of his fingers down your neck. He impertinently flicks the hood of your cloak off your head before dropping his hand to his side.

“You won’t look away from me. You will watch everything I do. No looking away, no closing your eyes.”

You swallow and attempt to nod but you feel like you cannot move. You want to move. You almost want to run for the door but you can imagine Feyd blocking your path with speed and stealth. You look at his mouth again, the lips curling, black teeth catching the light, and his tongue…

Feyd’s grip on your upper arm snaps your attention back. He undoes the clasp at your neck and slips the cloak off your shoulders, tossing it on the floor. You feel the goosebumps spread up your arms as the cool air of the room hits them. You are suddenly aware of the low neckline of your dress as you inhale. Your cleavage swells and you feel exposed, like prey out of cover.

He licks his lips, slowly. You fight conflicting urges to stare and to look away. You let your gaze travel up to his eyes. He isn’t looking at your face. He is stalking around you again, this time stoping behind you.

His hands are cool on your upper back and you shiver. Feyd makes a sound in response, a satisfied groan that is so low that you think you may have not heard it at all. His hands slip under your dress and are no longer gentle. He rips your dress down the back along the seam. He slings the shoulders of the dress down and you feel him step closer.

Feyd licks your neck, slowly, from the top of your shoulder to your ear. You bite the tip of your tongue to hold back a moan. You don’t want to like this, you don’t want to want him, but your nipples are hard and your body is a furnace.

“Let it out,” he growls in your ear, lips brushing against the lobe. “I want to hear you.”

You do. The sound comes out as a sigh and a moan. His reaction adds fuel to the fire in your core. Feyd growls next to your ear. His exhale tickles your cheek and you shiver again. Then you feel the fabric of his shirt press against your exposed back. Longing rolls over you as you realize you don’t want his shirt against your skin. You let the smallest groan escape your lips, a whining sound.

Feyd leans down and drags his lips over your shoulder. You almost relax into the feeling until you feel the pain as he bites down into the muscle. You gasp. It surprises you more than it hurts you. He releases his hold on you but his mouth stays against your skin.

Almost as unexpected as the bite, you feel the weight of his smooth head rest against your neck. He leans his weight in the crook of your neck and sighs. His hot breath makes you ache. His teeth are still grazing your shoulder. You want to relax into this feeling but he is too unpredictable.

Your mind races in an attempt to understand this man, to glean some insight. His sighs and groans make your core hot and tight. But the press of his teeth against your skin conflict with the gentleness of the press of his head against you. You can’t sort your thoughts and you can’t focus.

Suddenly, Feyd grunts and pushes away from you. Before you can decide to turn to look at him, he pulls your dress all the way off your arms and pushes it down your hips, leaving it in a puddle around your feet. You can’t think straight. You instinctively cross your arms over your breasts but it’s a fruitless action. He is behind you and you cannot cover the lower half of your body. You aren’t sure but you think the whimper you make is too quiet for him to hear.

“Stay,” Feyd growls. You do. You don’t move. You stare straight ahead at the wall opposite you and focus all your attention on listening, trying to decode the sounds Feyd is making behind you.

You hear cloth moving, one light thud, followed by another, then more cloth. Then you hear what is unmistakably bare feet on the stone floor. Then you feel him, not pressed against you (yet), but just behind you. He is still taller than you and though you cannot see him he feels like a monolith, looming and intimidating.

Feyd doesn’t speak as he runs his hands over your shoulders and down your biceps. He presses your arms against your sides and you acquiesce. Then his large hands cup your breasts as he steps forward into you, pressing the length of your bodies together. You feel lightheaded and sag slightly against him.

“Yes,” he hisses and somehow you can hear the smile in his voice. “Yes, my pet, that’s it.” His hands slide down the rises and hollows of your belly and hips. There is too much stimulus for you to focus on any one thing. The cool heat of his palms against your skin, the silkiness of his chest against your back, and the press of his erection against the curve of your buttocks.

This bliss is fleeting and you remind yourself of who he is, what you have seen him do. But the images of the arena can’t push the feeling of him on your skin out of your mind. You are almost powerless in his hands.

He guides you to turn and face him. You look up at him and involuntarily lick and bite your lower lip. For the first time you see hunger in his eyes. His head dips down and you fight the instinct to close your eyes as his lips press against yours. Not until you see his eyes close do you do the same. His mouth is bittersweet and gentle at first. Then his teeth nip and pull at your lip, his tongue pushes into your mouth, and he growls. You can’t stop yourself from pressing against his chest. Your hands find his arms as you try to get closer to him. As you pull him toward you the taste of blood crosses your tongue.

Feyd pulls his mouth back and you open your eyes immediately. The red on his lower lip is a stark line against the white skin. He slowly drags his finger across it. He gazes at the red on his fingertip as if he has never seen anything so entrancing before. Then he presses his finger against your lip and you pull the tip into your mouth. He moves before you can understand what is happening. His hand is in your hair, wrenching your head back. His other arm encircles your waste and he looks down at you, black teeth glinting in the pale light of the room.

His sneer is terrifying. Your fingernails dig into the flesh of his arms as you grip him. You don’t push him away; you can’t move. His eyes dart around your face searching for something. For defiance? He finds none and his mouth crashes against yours in a rough kiss that is mostly teeth and breath.

Something inside you gives way and you claw desperately at his arms. You kiss him back, finding his tongue with yours, inviting him into your mouth. His body is warm stone in your arms. You search for purchase, some place to anchor yourself, his chest, his arms, his neck. Then you push your hips forward, almost without thinking. His cock presses against your belly and he growls again. That sound draws wetness from between your legs and you moan back into his mouth. His hand begins to loosen its grip on your hair and you feel him smile against your lips. When you look at him you see it isn’t a kind smile.

“So that’s what you want, pet?” His smile is mocking, almost cruel. His voice is low and deep. His hand slides out of your hair to the side of your face. He caresses your cheek with his palm and rubs his thumb across your lips, lulling you with his touch.

“You want me to fuck you now?” Your response is the most undignified whimper. You are surprised by the desperation in the sound. As he straightens up to his full height you immediately miss the feeling of his skin. His smile softens briefly. Then he grips the back of your neck, hard, and walks you to the bed. Your heart pounds and you fear you won’t be able to keep your feet. If you trip you have no doubt he will drag you.

You look away from him, glance at the bed. He catches you and turns you to face him as you make the last few steps to the bed. It presses against the backs of your knees and you nearly fall. Feyd doesn’t let you. A brief flicker of understanding dawns on you: he doesn’t want anything to hurt you, only he can do that. It’s a perverse comfort, but his control is seductive. You don’t let yourself think “protective” but that’s the closest word. Then all words leave your mind as he lets go of you and you sink back into the bed.

Feyd kneels on the bed, spreading your legs with his knees. He isn’t gentle but his touch is soft. Every part of his hairless body is smooth and cool and graceful. His giant arms frame your field of vision as he props himself above you. His lower lip glistens and you want to risk defiance. You press yourself up to meet his mouth, to suck at that lip, bite and tease.

His reaction is quick. His hand presses you back onto the bed, wrapping almost entirely around your neck. You lick your lips and sneer up at him. His eyes flash with understanding. He grins. Using his hand on your neck and his legs to hold his weight he slips a hand between you and finds your slick center. He trails his fingers through your wetness and your last vestige of pride falls away. You actually whine as you raise your hips to find more of his fingers. He obliges for a moment and lets you press against them. Then he pulls his hand away.

The pressure on your neck is not yet uncomfortable. You let out panting breaths. Your mouth hangs open, eyes locked with his. Before you realize his hand is gone from your neck, you feel his wet fingers in your mouth and taste yourself. Without needing to be told you suck gently on them. You watch his face soften with pleasure. Barely opening his eyes, Feyd slides his fingers from your mouth, down your body, and under your thigh. He guides your leg onto his hip. As he leans his weight onto his other arm he guides his cock into your slick folds. You hold your breath. You don’t stop watching him and he notices. He looks at you, lewdly, as he strokes himself through your dripping cunt. You feel yourself blush, a bit too late for embarrassment, but there it is anyway. He groans as he presses the tip of his cock against your opening.

“Please, Feyd,” you groan. “Oh please.” His eyes widen at your words, at the sound of his name.

“Beg for my cock, pet. Tell me how much you need it,” he commands, his face only inches above yours.

“I need it so badly it hurts, na-Baron,” you watch for his reaction to the use of his title and you aren’t disappointed. “I need to feel you. Please.”

Feyd groans and his head dips lower, almost resting his forehead on yours as he begins to slide into you. The feeling is intense as he stretches you. You open your legs a bit wider, sliding your foot up the curve of his ass to his lower back. He presses deeper, harder, and you exhale his name. You don’t dare close your eyes yet but his are closed tight and his brow is furrowed. You gingerly slide your hands over his head and grip the back of his neck. You pull him to you slightly, giving him permission to rest his head against your neck. He rubs his head against you like a cat and you smile to yourself as you close your eyes.

Feyd’s hips press into yours, spreading you wide as he buries his face against you. He pulls out slowly and slides back in, so you can feel every inch of him. His free hand searches up your side to your breast and squeezes. His thumb grazes your nipple as he starts to pump into you. You gasp as he pinches your nipple, twists it slightly. You moan and press your lips against the smooth skin of his head.

“You take me so well,” Feyd mutters into your chest. “Such a good girl taking all of me.” The gravel in his voice makes you shiver and mewl. On his next stroke in, you slip your other leg over his hip and circle your legs around his waist. You pull him into you, as far as you can take him, the head of his cock pressing against your deepest core. He makes the most satisfied sound imaginable. You feel his lips, then his teeth against your collarbone. Your grip on his neck tightens as he slides out of you and rams back in, hard and quick.

With the next stroke, Feyd raises his head to look at you. You let your hands slide to his shoulders, still holding tight. There is no softness on his face now. His lust-blown pupils have swallowed the blue of his eyes and his brow is furrowed as he focuses on fucking you. He squeezes your breast quickly then moves his hand to your hair. He holds your head still and leans down to kiss you when he thrusts. You dig your fingernails into his skin and groan.

His control starts to falter and he exhales into your mouth. His hand in your hair gripping tighter as his strokes shorten and his pace quickens. You slide your hand down from his shoulder to touch yourself. His facial expression changes momentarily as he feels you grip tighter around his cock. You grin up at him.

“I need it, Feyd,” you whisper, holding his eye contact. You wait a beat and arch your back as your fingers and his cock bring you closer to your climax. “I need to feel you cum.” You groan. The wave of your pleasure begins to crest, your eyes squeezed tightly shut. Then you feel his teeth clamp down on the flesh above your clavicle. Your orgasm overtakes you as the sharp sensation clashes with the low, throbbing pleasure between your legs. You murmur his name through clenched teeth.

Feyd pushes through your spasms around his cock. Growling and grunting but not releasing you from his bite. He fucks you through your orgasm. His rhythm stutters and his grip loosens. He lifts his head, a string of spit pulled from his bottom lip. He grabs your head with both his hands and, panting just above your mouth, he cums. The heat fills you and you moan his name again. He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against yours as he presses into you one last time.

Then he stills, his forearms holding him up, but lets some of his weight press you together so he is almost lying on top of you, not pulling out yet. He exhales deeply and raises his head. He looks down at you.

You can’t catch your breath and your legs are heavy. You let them slide down his hips. Your neck throbs where his teeth marked you. You want to wrap your arms around him, pull him into you, stroking and soothing this wild animal. Instead, you grab the back of his head and pull him down to your mouth and kiss him until you taste red.

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utahimeow · 1 year

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home workout | wakatoshi ushijima

summary — wakatoshi works out at home. he looks hot doing it.

pairing — wakatoshi ushijima x reader

warnings — nsfw content. minors dni. smut, blowjob, cum swallowing, pet name ‘my love’

word count — 1.3k

author’s note — please listen to this audio of wakatoshi (and kuroo) breathing heavily for the most effective experience

It’s not your fault your boyfriend is totally irresistible. He’s tempting you on purpose– you’re sure of it.

You’re trying so, so hard to focus on the reality show playing on the TV, but Waktoshi is being terribly obscene. A few feet away, he’s splayed out on a yoga mat, lifting dumbbells over his head.

It’s unintentional, the way he gasps and heaves and, ever so often, groans. It’s unintentional, yet it leaves you squeezing your thighs together and biting down on your tongue because your mind is starting to wander.

If you were a better person, you’d go to any other room in the house and let him work out in peace. But you stay seated, let your eyes creep over to the titan of a man in your living room.

He’s a powerhouse in every aspect. You’d think that maybe you’d be used to it after having him in your life for so long, but your eyes widen and drool pools in your mouth at the sight of him.

Thick, hard thighs. Veined arm muscles, straining. Carved pectorals and abdomen, clenching with every movement. Corded muscle over every inch of his body–a display of pure, unwavering strength. The manifestation of years of work he’s put into the sport he plays for a living now. Wakatoshi’s tan skin gleams with droplets of sweat, too, face flushed down to his chest.

It’s terribly, horribly teasing. It’s precisely what he looks like when he’s above you, rutting his powerful hips into yours relentlessly, face morphed into a mixture of concentration and bliss. It’s what he sounds like when he pounds away at you, brings you to tears from pure bliss.

You want him. You need him. Your mouth is too empty, you decide. So you stand, shuffling over to him with an edge of guilt.

“Can you stop?” you say, standing by his mat.

He pauses, thick eyebrows furrowing. Concern quickly fills his sharp features.

“What have I done, my love?”

“You’re hot. It’s distracting me,” you tell him, crossing your chest.

His shoulders sag when it hits him he hasn’t actually done anything wrong and he chuckles, a deep rumble in his broad chest. “I apologise. Can you forgive me?”

“I will if you let me suck your dick,” you say, already sinking to your knees between his robust thighs. There’s mischief dancing behind the batting of your eyelashes, enticing your sweet boyfriend.

Wakatoshi likes to think he’s focused– it’s what he’s been told all his life, by coaches and teachers alike. His concentration never wavers, his determination ever so stable. Around you, though? He becomes entirely unrelenting.

It’s why he doesn’t stop you as you paw at his jersey shorts, smoothing a hand up his thigh, along his crotch, up to the waistband. It’s why he nods when you peer up at him for permission to pull them down his legs, no matter how simple it would be for him to ask you politely to wait until he finishes the few reps he has left.

His boxers come down and his cock, half-hard, springs upwards in its entirety. Your fingertips barely touch when they wrap around the tanned flesh which jumps when you start stroking up and down gently.

Drool pools in your mouth, your lidded eyes dropping to the sight of your boyfriend’s perfect dick. With your bottom lip caught between your teeth, you pump up and down his veiny length until he’s rock hard and blushing and pearly rivulets of pre dribble from the slit of his tip.

That’s when you start to drag your tongue along him, from his base all the way to his head, watching attentively as his head falls back and he showcases his glistening Adam’s apple. He’s always so sensitive, falling apart at your slightest touch.

Your thumb teases his slit, smearing pre over his tip as it leaks while your tongue traces the veins that adorn his cock. And then, with a lustful hunger burning deep in your abdomen, your lips wrap around him and swallow.

You hardly give yourself a second to adjust as you take half of him without hesitation, tears welling and throat clenching as you adjust to the girthy intrusion. Wakatoshi hisses as his giant hand flies to your scalp, stopping you before you can push yourself any further.

“Easy, my love,” he says in a strained whisper.

It’s hard to take his advice when you peer up and catch the tensing of his hard muscles, the parting of his lips, and the affection that glimmers in his olive eyes. It urges you on, really.

You pull back with webs of spit connecting your lips to his cock, stomach fluttering as your boyfriend brings his hand to your cheek and strokes it with his thumb. A second later and you’re dipping your head back down to envelop your mouth around him, choosing to bob your head this time.

“Oh, f-” Wakatoshi cuts himself off with a groan, your throat so warm and tight around him that he shivers. He sighs when your free hand moves to grasp at one of his heavy balls, squeezing lightly but it’s just enough to make his cock throb in your mouth.

As you bob, you take him further and further until your nose is pressed to his pelvis and the dark wiry hairs of his happy trail tickle your skin. He squeezes his eyes shut from the jolts of pleasure that travel deep into his core, his brain turning to fog from the bliss of your slippery mouth. His flesh becomes seared, the blush on his cheeks seeping down to his chest.

Your throat clicks and splutters around him–he’s so big, not meant to be taken like this, and yet you do. With wet eyes and a numb mind, you keep him shoved down your mouth as your fingers take turns fondling one of his balls at a time.

Wakatoshi thinks he’s close to passing out. He can hardly remind himself to stave off his orgasm, too busy as he’s rapt by the burning pleasure of your tongue working his cock.

You pull away, heaving for air, but it’s only to mouth at his balls and suckle at them until they’re covered in your slobber. You trail your tongue along the underside of his cock next, watching him gulp– watching him slowly fall apart.

When you swirl your tongue and suck lightly at his tip, Wakatoshi moans. His abdomen tightens, his fingers scratching at your scalp as they tangle into your roots. He’s losing all semblance of composure. You can tell, from the way his thighs tense and ragged breaths fall from his lips.

“I’m- close,” he groans, low, through clenched teeth.

You’re bobbing your head again with determination, the lewd sounds every time you lower your mouth only bringing Wakatoshi to his edge more quickly. With your hand pumping up and down simultaneously, he doesn’t stand a chance.

His cock twitches in your mouth, and with a deep, rumbling groan that shakes his entire body, he releases. His warm load spills down your throat, his muscles bulging as pleasure wracks his huge body. A Roman god succumbing.

As you pull off of him to replenish your lungs, Wakatoshi’s mind is airy. To him, one thing becomes clear, however.

He lunges forward, scooping you up with ease despite having orgasmed just a moment ago.

“Wakatoshi!” you squeal as he tosses you upon the couch. He kisses you, messy, licking into your mouth like he’s trying to taste himself on your tongue. It makes your head spin.

“I’d like to make sure you’ll forgive me,” he says, still breathless and blushing. His hands wander up your t-shirt, fingertips brushing at your skin making you shiver. “Will you let me return the favour, please?”

#ushijima smut #ushijima wakatoshi smut #ushijima x reader #ushijima fic #ushijima imagine #ushiwaka smut #ushiwaka x reader #hq smut #haikyuu smut #hq imagine #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagine #꒰ lovers. ꒱ — ushijima

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poguesprincess · 5 days

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kind of a part two to this drabble, as a singular person requested (lol). enjoy.

♱ ‧₊˚ rafe cameron can’t get his hands off of you.

the alcohol has for sure gotten to his head now, if it hadn’t before, and his eyes sting from the drastic change of lighting— now shoved into a dark bathroom with you, hard-on pressed against your clothed cunt. both of his hands are locked into your hair, tugging every so often to elicit one of those moans of yours he’s so in love with. he snickers against your lips each time you do. now impatient, your hips wiggle against his own, edging dangerously close to the edge of the counter he’d propped you on. “thought you hated me.” he muses, one hand slipping down to your waist, trailing ever so slowly towards your pelvis, “thought you couldn’t stand me, you never wanted to see me again.” annoyed, you bite down at his bottom lip with a groan, fumbling desperately at his belt in a frail attempt to get him to shut up. last thing you needed was rafe cameron to get another ego boost.

“what is it you called me? a selfish prick?”

“you are one— be quiet” you pant, breathless.

he ignores you. “and look at you, begging for this prick’s dick. can’t help yourself, can you?” your head is pounding from the constant bass of the music outside, and your core aches painfully the more he speaks. you give in. “please, rafe, just fuck me.” he can’t remember a time he’s ever heard you whine like that, and he would give you what you asked for immediately, but his pride is running too high now. he presses his palm flat against you, middle finger stroking through the fabric of your shorts as if in search of your hole. “fuuuuck, babe, can feel your heartbeat through these jeans.”

he’s now focused on the way his fingers toy and prod at your pussy, savoring the way you flinch and twitch when the heel of his palm presses against your clit, and soon he’s working your shorts down with that same hand— the other still grasping your hair, as if to keep you in place. as if you might try to run away from him again. the only light that enters the bathroom flashes from under the door. greens and blues and reds peek through, illuminating the blond of his hair; the hardened edges of his face as he focuses on aligning himself with your hole. it makes you forget about anything he ever did to upset you ever. especially when his tip now circles your sopping wet cunt, sliding up and down, head catching on your clit. his eyes snap up to yours, and his grip on your hair tightens. he stills.

“tell me you want it.” he whispers, pumping his dick slowly as he teases your hole.

“rafe!—“

“tell me you missed this dick, baby. tell me how much you need me right now, or i fucking swear i’ll leave you in this bathroom like the wet and horny mess you are.”

you give in, ears now filled with the sound of your moans and the sticky sound of his flagpole of a cock driving into your walls. he looms over you, supporting himself with a hand pressed above your head and onto the mirror, tonguing at the bottom of his lip in focus. “need it so baddd, rafey, fuck!” he mocks the way you begged for him moments before he began to pound himself into you. “gonna beg for me again, huh princess? gonna beg rafey to let you cum?” you nod as he speaks nonsensically into your ear, arousal heightened by the way he humiliates you, mocks you so loudly and shamelessly as if no one were around to hear. he’s abusing that same, gummy spot inside of you over and over again, fingers ghosting over your clit. you can feel the condensation of sweat on the mirror roll down and dribble onto your shoulder, wetting the back of your head as it lolls back and forth by the force at which the boy fucks into you. his head falls against your shoulder, hips stuttering slightly, but still unrelenting.

“gonna blow my fuckin’ load into you, babygirl.” he begins. you can hardly register what he’s saying, only the way it brings you closer and closer to the edge, “missed this tight fuckin’ pussy so much.” soon, you’re begging him to cum, and the hand over your clit finally lowers, rubbing in tandem with his thrusts.

“thats it baby, give it to me. show daddy how sorry you are.”

#꒰ ۫ ੭ requests! ୨ৎ ꒱#εïз rafe prompt !#rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe x reader

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neocentral · 17 days

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rating: 18+. mdni.

content: implied noncon

jisung’s spoon fell from his fingers, the metal clanking against the ceramic bowl in front of him. his plump lips fell open, blood flowing to his puffy cheeks, “what?”

you repeated yourself, crossing your arms over your chest as discomfort settled in your chest. you suddenly felt ridiculous. the accusations suddenly sounded absurd even to your own ears.

jisung looked at you incredulously, panic and embarrassment painting his features. he looked like he wanted to leave, palms already flat on the table, eyes shifting around the small, enclosed dining room. a few long seconds passed before he finally spoke, “are you serious?”

jisung looked unsure, the rushing of his thoughts clear in his brown eyes. you would find his reaction suspicious if you didn’t know him. if his emotions weren’t so clear on his face. jisung’s aversion to confrontation was nothing new, most of your petty arguments stemmed from it. but there was something that made a nearly unnoticeable doubt creep into your mind.

you supposed the subject matter could also justify his strange actions. sex was never something jisung was comfortable with. after years of friendship you had yet to hear of a single sexual encounter involving them friend, not that you were particularly interested, but at the ripe age of twenty two, you couldn’t help but find it odd.

still, you felt foolish. jisung recoiled when you did something as simple as tap him on the shoulder. he would never dream of such a thing. between your legs was the last place jisung longed to be, it couldn’t have been him.

the entire night was unusual, an unsettling air loomed over you the second you stepped out of the door with jisung in tow. the feeling only growing more intense as the night progressed and jisung’s presence suddenly felt suffocating. he stuck to you like glue, likely seeking comfort from the overwhelming amount of people surrounding him. that was yet another reason why it could never have been jisung.

surely there was something you missed as the night came to an end. perhaps another man followed closely behind you, managing to evade an equally intoxicated jisung’s watchful eye. maybe another man had inconspicuously slipped through the door before jisung managed to lock it, finding your bedroom and lingering in the dark as he waited for your friend to tuck you in.

you hadn’t seen jisung leave, but then again, you were exhausted. your eyes fluttered shut before your head had even touched your pillow, your heavy body falling limp in jisung’s lean arms that held you like fragile glass.

the man that forced himself between your legs could never have jisung. the brutality your foggy brain is something you didn’t think jisung could be capable of. the sweet boy that stuck by your side year after year, the boy who refused to raise his voice, or shut the door too roughly.

the hips slamming against your thighs were ruthless, the hand curled around your mouth unrelenting, the hisses in your ear telling you to shut the fuck up remorseless. moans and groans replaced his words, vibrating through your throat as eager kisses were placed upon it, occasional aggressive bites leaving you to cry out louder than you already were. it was worse when he lifted his face, scanning the tears that rolled down the swells of your cheeks and the fearful expression shifting on your face as recognition. At least, you thought it was recognition. as much as the blurry eyes above you mirrored jisung’s, the emotion swimming within them was nothing short of unfamiliar.

jisung quickly stood, face fully covered in a bright red tint that raced down his neck and crept up his ears as he tugged one. “I can’t believe you would say something like that,” he said, stumbling over the words.

you stood unmoving, feeling conflicted as he walked closer. sudden unease made you take a step back, watching as the space between you and jisung grew even larger until he was gone.

#tw noncon #starring... jisung !#screenplay…#jisung x reader #jisung smut #nct x reader #nct smut #dark!jisung #dark!nct #nct dream #nct #jisung

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actual-changeling · 8 months

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if god did not want me to over-analyse a two second video clip she would not have given me video editing software, so welcome back to alex's unhinged meta corner with me, alex, as your host.

we're going off the deep end with this one.

let's have a look at a. well, you cannot really call it a scene at this point. more of a collection of frames - aziraphale's face right after crowley leaves but before the bell above the door rings. this has been on my list of metas to write anyway, but someone kindly pointed it out which gave me incentive to make this post.

now, my leading theory is that much like his mouth movement before saying "i forgive you", which looked and sounded a lot like the beginning of "i love you", aziraphale is mouthing a silent "don't". presumably, the complete sentence would have been "don't leave".

first things first, why do i think he would say it? well, if you look back at their breakup in the park in season one, aziraphale calls him back when he says he will leave.

"you can't leave, crowley, there isn't anywhere to go".

then, after the fucking mess that is "nothing lasts forever", aziraphale also calls out. "come back". it is also perfectly in line with his previous behaviour to try and keep crowley from leaving again. especially because he almost tells the metatron he will stay just a few minutes later.

some other important things to keep in mind: aziraphale is shaking and about to cry, and also probably still in shock. so his face is doing a number of things and any words he may or may not mouth are slightly skewed due to that.

the first few frames are him taking a breath, so far so good.

this is the part where it looks like he is about to say something and silently begins to mouth don't. if you pay very close attention to his lips, you can see that they get pushed forward just a little bit as one does when saying "do".

you can try it yourself to confirm, i certainly did several times while rewatching the same two seconds like an absolutely sane person.

the last few frames are him closing his mouth again and breaking off whatever he was going to say, but in my opinion, you can still see the ending of that "don't".

alex, you might ask, how do you know that's what he was trying to say? i don't, although i hope once the strike ends someone will ask michael sheen some much needed questions. however, i wouldn't be a scientist if i didn't have evidence to present nevertheless.

i compared two of the frames from above, one from the "do" part and one from the "nt" part with another instance of michael/aziraphale saying "don't" - "i don't think you understand what i'm offering you".

the mouth shape and the movement of his facial muscles looks very similar even taking the whole sobbing and crying business into account.

interestingly enough, once the bell does ring, signaling that crowley has left the store, he not only closes his mouth but also physically steps back even more. he almost says "don't leave", restrains himself by physically pulling back, and then inches even farther from the door.

that is also when his face shifts from completely openly heartbroken to angry/spiteful and heartbroken.

the camera angle changes a little bit but not enough to explain the discrepancy, so yes, he steps backward before turning away and touching his lips. that pillar is honestly a very helpful point of reference. also completely unrelated but the face he makes at the end cracks me up it is LITERALLY >:(

to summarize: someone get michael sheen on the fucking phone before i lose my mind. also you can pry this meta from my dead, cold hands, he almost said "don't leave" and i will die on this hill.

lastly, said two second clip at half speed if you want to have a look for yourself.

#alex talks good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #good omens meta #every time i write a post like this i imagine myself as the red string meme dude #i have CONNECTED THE DOTS too

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rollinouttahere-writes · 1 year

Text

Lucky Break Chapter 1

Yandere Straw Hats x Reader

4.9k words

Now onto the real meat of the story! Just letting everyone know now, as far as yandere stories go, this one is a bit of a slowburn. It will take a while for the yandere tendencies to become blatantly obvious.

Previous / Next

The first thing you registered as your consciousness came back to you was an unbearable splitting pain in your head. It felt like your head exploded and was shittily put back together. You groaned and raised your arms to shield your eyes from the unrelenting light above, it was blinding even though your eyes were still closed.

The second was that you were soaking wet and smelled like fish.

“Look! She’s starting to wake up now!” You recoiled from the excessively loud voice, curling up on your side and covering your ears. Everything is too much right now, you want to go back to sleep.

“Keep it down, she probably has a headache from you bashing her head into the side of the boat,” the second voice was quieter but gruff. He sounded annoyed.

“It was an accident! I didn’t mean to,” he mumbled the last part, seemingly a touch embarrassed.

You try to open your eyes to assess the situation. It takes a few tries, the first attempt does nothing but blind you, and the second isn’t much better. The third time a head comes into view and mercifully blocks out the sun. Finally, your eyes are starting to adjust and you can make out some details, like the fact that this person is wearing a hat.

You rub at your eyes, trying to make them adjust and focus faster. When you pull them away, you’re seeing much more clearly. The person with the hat is still there, staring at you with pure fascination. Now that you can really look at and make eye contact with him, he flashes you a huge grin.

“Hi!”

Oh, this is the one with the loud voice. You wince slightly, but force yourself to respond. “Um, hi?” Yeah, you’re in no condition to come up with anything more interesting or complex than that.

“You feeling better after sleeping?”

Another man, one with green hair, kicks the guy with the straw hat in the side, “She wasn’t sleeping, you knocked her the hell out.”

Straw hat boy didn’t even flinch from the kick, simply shrugging it off and saying, “What’s the difference? Sleep is sleep, right?”

The two started going back and forth, arguing about what counted as sleep. While they bickered, you take the opportunity to look around. There’s only three people here including yourself. You’re all on a boat with nothing but the ocean in sight. How did you get here? You just glanced back and forth between the two in confusion before what they were saying clicked. Knocked out?

“What do you mean I got knocked out?” You don’t remember that happening. The last thing you remember is… what? Absolutely nothing is coming to mind. Trying to focus and think harder didn’t do anything but send a violent pang through your head.

“Oh yeah, you fell outta the sky and into the ocean!” Straw hat boy perked up, appearing excited all of the sudden. “You looked like you were drowning so I pulled you into our boat but accidentally hit your head. Sorry!”

“I… Fell out of the sky?” That can’t be right.

“Yeah! What were you doing anyways? How did you get up there? Can you show me? I wanna see!” With each sentence he scooted closer to you, his nose was practically touching yours now.

“I… don’t know,” you admitted.

“What do you mean you don’t know? You gotta know how you did that,” he whined.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t remember.” You’ve wracked your brain for literally anything you could work with, but came back with nothing. It was nothing but a blank slate. “I can’t remember anything,” you mumbled more to yourself than anyone.

It was silent for a moment, then the green haired man hit the back of straw hat boy’s head, jostling the hat a little, “Good going Luffy! You hit her head so damn hard you gave her amnesia.”

Luffy was as unbothered by this as the kick, “What’s that?”

Green hair groaned, rubbing his hand down the length of his face, “It means what she just said, she can’t remember anything.”

Luffy’s jaw dropped, his expression of mild confusion being traded for one of shock and horror. He whipped his attention back to you and grabbed onto your shoulders, “So you can’t tell me how you got up into the sky?!”

Him shaking you and yelling was doing nothing for your headache. You put your hands on his chest to try and get him to calm down and hopefully unhand you, “Buddy, I’m not even sure I can remember my own name right now, much less explain whatever I was getting up to before.” That wasn’t a joke, even your god damned name is escaping you right now.

Luffy didn’t let go, but he did reel back in shock. “Really??? You forgot your own name???” Finally, it seemed as if the severity of the situation hit him and he looked genuinely concerned. “Zoro, you know about this kind of stuff! How do we fix it?”

“I just knew what the word meant, I don’t know how to fix it! I’m a swordsman not a doctor,” Zoro huffed at Luffy. “The best thing we can do is take her to an actual doctor and hope they know what to do.”

Luffy nodded seriously, “Don’t worry, we’ll take you to a doctor, uh… um…” His eyebrows furrowed, “Hm, we need to give you a name.” He let go of you and instead placed a hand on his chin and went deep into thought, mulling over what to call you while making exaggerated ‘hmm’ noises.

Eventually, his eyes lit up and he snapped his fingers, “I know! We’ll call you Lucky! You know, because you’re lucky that we were here to help you!” He grinned and nodded, clearly pleased with what he came up with.

“Was she also ‘lucky’ when you gave her a concussion?” Zoro jeered. There was no real malice to the sentence, just a playful jab.

Luffy pouted and swatted at him, “It was an accident! And I said I was sorry!” He focused back on you, “Do you like it? Can we call you Lucky?”

It did have a certain ring to it, and it’s not like you had anything else to work with, “Sure, Lucky sounds nice.”

Luffy beamed and was quick to snatch up one of your hands in both of his, vigorously shaking it, “It’s nice to meet you, Lucky! I’m Monkey D. Luffy, and that’s Zoro! We’re pirates, and I’m going to be the king of the pirates!”

These guys are pirates? Do pirates even have kings? You dismiss the thoughts and reply, “It’s nice to meet you too, Luffy.” You try to pull your hand away, but he’s still holding onto it tight. Instead, you reach your other hand over to Zoro who is reclining on the side of the boat with both his arms crossed behind his head. “It’s nice to meet you too, Zoro,” he just stared at your hand for a moment, but before you could get embarrassed and pull it back, he returns the friendly gesture.

“Yeah, yeah, you too, Lucky,” His handshake was brief, simply grabbing your hand, shaking it once, and letting go. If it weren’t for the small, relaxed smile, you would assume that he hadn’t really wanted to.

After that, the atmosphere was calm and casual. You learned quickly that Luffy was an extremely friendly person. You’d just met and he was treating you like some old, long lost friend. He especially loves talking about being a pirate and his dream of being the pirate king, telling you all about things like the Grand Line and the One Piece. All things that you’d obviously never heard of.

Despite being aware of (and the reason for) your condition, your lack of knowledge surprised him. “You don’t know about the One Piece either? C’mon doesn’t it sound familiar?”

You roll your eyes, he had the same reaction to you not knowing about the Grand Line either, “No Luffy, I already told you that I don’t remember anything. Nothing you’ve said so far is ringing any bells for me.”

Luffy huffed and crossed his arms. He had his thinking face on again, and you waited with mild intrigue to see what he would say this time. Even Zoro, who you thought was napping until now, was side-eyeing him.

Luffy nodded to himself suddenly, his eyes now alight with determination, “You know what? I’m not just gonna take you to a doctor.” You froze. Did he not want to help you anymore? Was he gonna ditch you the second he could? He flashed you another one of his smiles and continued, “I’m going to help you get your memories back, too!”

“Really? Why would you want to do that?” You were baffled as to why someone with aspirations as big as his would want to waste time helping some random person.

“Because I like you and think you’re cool,” he answered like it was the most obvious answer. Then he grins even wider and scoots closer to you, “Also I want to know more about you and where you came from, I just know it’s gonna be awesome!”

You didn’t know what to say, but luckily Zoro spoke up instead, “How are you gonna do that? For all we know she could never get her memories back.”

“I’ll figure it out, it can’t be that hard. If we do lots of stuff, something has to be familiar!” Ever confident, Luffy happily told Zoro his idea, clearly pleased with himself. His eyes widened and he snapped his fingers, “Oh! I have another idea! We’ll get some meat, I bet that eating some will fix it!”

“I don’t think that’s gonna cure it, Luffy,” Zoro shook his head at his captain’s antics.

“How would you know? You said so yourself that you’re not a doctor!” Luffy stuck his tongue out at him, then suddenly snapped his head up to the sky. “Look! There’s some meat right there!”

You look up to see a bird flying overhead. You weren’t sure how Luffy planned on catching it, much less cooking it on a wooden boat in the middle of the ocean. He did seem awfully sure of himself though, so you simply sat back and watched to see what he did.

Luffy stretched and rolled his shoulder, seemingly winding up for something. “Gomu gomu no,” he spun his right arm around, reeled back, and shot his arm out in the direction of the bird, “pistol!”

His. Arm. Stretched.

You stared, slack jawed and horrified, as his arm continued to stretch and stretch all the way up to the bird. A quiet ‘what the fuck’ slipped out of you as you watched all this. Even without your memories, you knew this wasn’t right.

As soon as Luffy grabbed hold of the bird, you could see his expression shift to panic as he realized that the bird was much farther away and bigger than previously anticipated. Just as quick as his arm got up there, his body followed, essentially slingshotting him into the sky.

“Luffy!” Zoro scrambled to grab the oars and immediately started rowing in the direction the bird was flying. “You, keep your eyes on him so we don’t lose him!”

You sputtered at him, not at all recovered from the earlier shock, “What the hell was that??? How did his arm do that?

“He ate a devil fruit and is a rubber person now, don’t worry about it, just keep watching him!” Zoro fired out all of this like it was common knowledge, even having the audacity to shoot you an incredulous look.

“You’re saying all that like I know what any of those words mean,” which you did not!

“Lucky!” Zoro snapped at you, “You can ask questions later, we need to only worry about him right now! If he falls into the ocean he will drown!”

His outburst successfully quieted you down. As much as you needed to know more, you could admit that it wasn’t as important as following after Luffy. You two hadn’t made it far before you were yelling at Zoro to turn.

“There’s people in the water, you need to go around them!” With the speed he was rowing at you were sure he would give all these guys the same head injury you got.

Zoro didn’t heed your warning, “They can either get out of the way or hop on, I’m not turning or stopping.” True to his word, he didn’t do either. The three men were able to grab on and pull themselves aboard.

Briefly, you wondered if maybe they were in the same situation you were in, but realized that wasn’t the case immediately when they pulled swords on you and Zoro. You paled instantly, panic coursing through your veins as they demanded you surrender the ship to them.

Zoro grabbed you by the back of your shirt, dragging you over to where he was sitting and shoving the oars into your hands. “Keep rowing, I’ll deal with them.” You couldn’t row anywhere near as fast as he did, especially not with how bad your hands were shaking from the intruders.

If you had blinked, you would have missed it. Zoro drew one of the three swords -wait three?- and did one quick strike with it. This move sent all three of their swords into the ocean. All of them went white as a sheet as they focused on the swords on his hip.

“P-Pirate hunter Zoro! We wouldn’t have done this if we knew it was you!” They looked like they were about to either throw up or pass out from their nerves. You were frantically hurried out of where you were seated as they insisted on rowing instead. Just to be nice, definitely not to get Zoro to spare them.

The swordsman put the sword he drew back into its sheath, but didn’t take his eyes off them. You were continuing to watch for Luffy, something that was becoming harder as they got further away. By now they were little more than a speck in the distance.

Hoping that these guys were local to the area, you ask them if they know where a giant bird like that could be headed out here. They exchange looks and the one in the middle speaks up, “It’s probably headed for Orange Town, it’s on an island nearby.”

The other two nod enthusiastically and chime in, “Yeah! That’s definitely where it’s going! Tell you what, we’ll take you guys all the way there as a thank you for sparing us!” Even though you had asked the question, they were all looking at and speaking to Zoro.

Part of you questioned if they were telling the truth. Yeah, it wouldn’t be smart to piss off someone called ‘the pirate hunter’ more than they already had, but at the same time they seemed just a little too eager to go there.

As they led the way to Orange Town, you felt more and more sure of your suspicions. They started ranting about how some girl managed to trick them and steal their ship with all their treasure inside. They lamented that their boss was sure to be furious with them for such a careless blunder. While you were attempting to be polite and nod along to their ramblings, Zoro was entirely uninterested, only focused on scanning the horizon.

Finally, an island comes into view. Along with the island, you can see an absolutely massive ship docked on the side of the island. It looks like there’s a… circus tent on it? Is that normal? You suppose you don’t know enough about ships to dispute it.

The hitchhikers are ecstatic to see the ship, so you assume it must belong to that boss of theirs. You can only hope that they won’t cause any trouble for you after this, but after how they “introduced” themselves, you’re not feeling very good about that.

The literal second they docked the boat they took off towards the circus ship you saw. Zoro was next off the boat and helped you step off, too. It was amazing to have your feet on solid ground. Trailing after Zoro, you ask if he thinks Luffy is here. “Can’t be sure, but I hope so. We’ll look around for a bit and leave for another island if we can’t find him.”

As you leave the docks and enter the town, you can’t help but notice that it’s completely empty. It has to be late morning or early afternoon, yet there isn’t a person in sight. There isn’t even any noise that would indicate the presence of a human being. Something in the back of your mind tingled, like being somewhere like this was familiar.

“Do you think it’s safe to be here? Why isn’t anyone walking around?” Something about this felt off. This didn’t look like it had been abandoned for long.

Zoro shrugs, “Maybe they’re all inside?” Immediately, he approaches the nearest home and knocks on the door. No one answered. Naturally, his next step is to just barge in like he owns the place. He looks around a bit, hands on his hips, before turning back to you. “Never mind, guess they all left,” he sounded way too casual about this strange ghost town.

Hesitantly, you follow in after, taking it in for yourself. It only gets stranger when you’re inside. The table was set and there was even food on the dishes. Like everyone had to leave with absolutely no warning. It was honestly chilling. What could have scared so many people off like that?

Zoro is rummaging through the cabinets and drawers, looking for who knows what. Your eyes are drawn to a white box in one of the open cabinets. You step closer and pull it out, it’s a first aid kit! Oh, you could definitely use one of these right now.

“Hey Zoro, I’m gonna use this to clean up that gash on my head,” you hold up your find to him, hoping he won’t mind if you take a break from looking to do this.

“Clean it? I already rinsed it with sea water when you were still knocked out,” he quirked a brow, but looked unbothered. “Whatever, go ahead. I’m gonna keep looking for Luffy.”

You internally cringed at the idea of an open wound having sea water splashed on it, but kept your mouth shut and simply went to look for the bathroom. After finding it, you were finally able to get a good look at yourself since waking up. You looked like shit. There were bloodstains running down the front of your shirt, and some remaining flecks of blood on your face. There was a green bandana tied diagonally across your forehead, and it was soaked in blood. That must be where the wound is.

Gingerly, you untie it and peel it off. You can’t help but wince as the blood has adhered it to you, pulling painfully where you’re hurt at. It’s bad. The gash is about the length of your thumb and looks deep. It’s definitely going to leave a scar, but hopefully you’ll be able to use your hair to cover it.

Not wanting to waste time, you open the kit to take stock of what you have to work with. Lucky for you it doesn’t look very used. You pull out some disinfectant and bandages and set them on the counter. Checking the nearby closet, you find some towels and add them to the pile.

The water is also thankfully still running, and you wet the towel and start washing the blood off your face and around your injury. Once you got that taken care of, you cupped your hands so you could flush out your wound. It stung, but it was necessary. Now that it was rinsed out and the area surrounding it was clean, you felt relieved that there didn’t appear to be any redness around it. There was some swelling, but that was normal given this was a blunt force trauma injury. All you needed to do was put on the disinfectant and bandages to make sure it didn’t become infected.

It took everything you had to not scream the second the spray-on disinfectant made contact. It burned so bad that it made your eyes tear up, but you had to endure it. Keeping this clean until you could find a doctor was crucial, and you honestly doubt you’ll be able to find one on this weird ghost island.

Dressing the wound was the hard part. You honestly weren’t sure how to do it, so it looked sloppy to say the least. Just some wadded up cloth over the gash with some gauze wrapped around your head to keep it secure.

You looked at the green (but mostly red now) bandana on the counter and decided to try washing it out. You’re pretty sure it isn’t yours, nothing about it feels familiar to you. It might be Zoro’s, he did say he had been the one to take care of your injury earlier.

Filling the sink with soap and water, you set to work trying to get the blood out. You wind up having to drain and refill the sink a couple times, but do eventually get it to a passable state. It’s back to being mostly green again! You tied it around your wrist for the time being until you could return it.

Given that the place was abandoned, you figured it wouldn’t hurt to take the first aid kit with you. Depending on how long it takes to find a doctor, you could need to replace the bandages yourself.

As you’re leaving the bathroom with the kit in hand, you notice a bedroom with an open closet down the hall. It… It wouldn’t hurt to get a change of clothes would it? Your clothes were mostly dry, but you definitely smelled like someone who had taken an unplanned dive into the ocean. You’re already stealing one thing, might as well double down.

Lucky for you, there are some clothes in there that fit you, and you even like what you found! Maybe Luffy was onto something with that nickname for you. Being able to change into clean, dry clothes felt heavenly.

As you were folding up your old clothes to put into a bag you found, you noticed that your pockets had some things in them. Curiously, you check out what you have. In one pocket is a baggie containing some fish shaped treats and a weird tube thing.

“Aww, aren’t you just an absolute sweetheart!” You cooed at the adorable stray cat you’d stumbled upon. It was happily munching on the treat you had given it. It takes everything you have not to squeal when the cat rubs its face against your leg and begins purring loudly.

You pull your trusty laser pointer out and click it on. The cat’s eyes widen and it’s immediately on the hunt, pouncing on the light with all the ferocity of a lion going in for the kill.

Your eyes shot open as you remembered your first memory. Admittedly, it wasn’t very helpful, but progress is progress! Experimentally, you click on the laser pointer. Just like in your memory, it shines a red dot onto the floor. You shrug, click it off, and put the cat toy into a pocket in your new outfit.

Onto the other pocket. You pull out a necklace. The chain is a simple gold one, and the pendant is a skull and crossbones biting a wand between its teeth over a lattice patterned back. It looked brand new, but felt surprisingly fragile, like you could snap it in half with your bare hands. You flip it over and closely examine it. Strangely, it didn’t feel familiar to you at all and didn’t spark any memories.

Still, it looks nice, and you must have had a reason to have it on you. You decide to put it on and slip it under your shirt. A part of you felt inclined to keep this secret, but you couldn’t place why. Surely you would piece together how and why you had this eventually.

Finally done, you put the strap of your satchel bag over your shoulder and leave the house. Taking a quick look around, you don’t see Zoro anywhere. Which does make sense, you guys still need to look for Luffy. Picking a direction, you hurry off to do the same, wanting to make up for lost time.

You round the first corner and immediately run into something. Tumbling to the ground, you look up to assess what or whoever you just plowed into (praying it isn’t the person whose house you basically just robbed).

You are face to face with a giant white lion.

This is it. You’re done. You survived almost drowning in the ocean and head trauma only to be eaten by a lion. You were unable to move, locked in place by your own terror as the lion steps closer to you. His head was massive compared to you, the mouth alone would be able to easily take your head off in one bite.

Instead of immediately eating you, he starts sniffing you instead, appearing to be very focused on your pocket. Wait! The treats! Carefully, very carefully, you slip your hand into your pocket to pull out the baggie of cat treats.

“E-E-Easy there kitty, do you w-want some treats?”

Against your better judgment, you try talking to him. Instantly, his eyes snap up to yours and he growls. The sound cuts right through you, and you’re pretty sure that if you weren’t horribly dehydrated, you would have pissed yourself.

In your panic, rather than grabbing the treats and throwing them as far away from you as you could, you just dumped all of them into your lap. Great. He gets to eat his appetizer off of his main course!

Thankfully, the clear smell of the cat food made the growling stop. He zeroed in on them, and helped himself. Much to your surprise, he’s shockingly gentle and doesn’t bite you at all. Despite the baggie being completely full, he eats them all in one bite.

While he’s still chewing, you try to carefully scoot back and away from the predator. You get maybe a couple feet away before he swallows the morsel and his eyes are back on you. He closes the gap in one step and ducks his head down to sniff at you again. You internally curse yourself. Shit! Now he thinks you have food and of course he wants more.

“No more!” You shake the empty bag in your hand for emphasis, “See! It’s empty, no more!” Your voice was going higher and higher by the second. The lion sniffs at the bag, then goes back to you. Presumably trying to find anything else hidden on your person.

Just as you think that he’s about to pounce and bring an end to your existence, he does something unexpected. The lion licks your face, and then plops his head onto your lap.

Huh?

Your hands hover well above his head, having no idea what to do. His mane tickled at your nose as he nuzzled in further. What the hell is going on? Hesitantly, you lightly bring one hand down onto his fur. He doesn’t try to rip your arm off for such an offense, instead, he simply closes his eyes and gets more comfortable.

Your other hand joins in and you find yourself actually being insane enough to pet him. You’re not sure what’s more shocking. That you’re petting a lion, or that it’s letting you. The mane is so soft that you can only assume someone else must be brushing it. You suppose that makes sense. There’s no way a lion could be this friendly to you without having previous experience with humans.

“You’re a nice lion?” You say this more to yourself than the animal in front of you. Feeling more emboldened by the lack of any negative reaction, you reach up to scritch at his ears. He loves it, licking at you again.

Every single self preservation instinct left your body. You start petting the large predatory feline as if he’s a regular house cat, even cooing at him and switching to your baby talk voice, “Aren’t you just the sweetest boy?” Is this a stupid thing to do? Yes, but how many times are you going to have an opportunity to do this?

The downright magical moment is interrupted by a voice in the distance. “Richie! Where are you? We need to find that bird that got shot down and bring it back, you better not be eating it!”

The lion perked up and looked in the direction the voice came from. With a huff, he stood up, licked your face, and then wandered off to find the owner of the voice. So Richie is the lion’s name, and that must be who takes care of him.

As you’re brushing the copious amounts of hair off yourself, something clicks. Hang on. They’re looking for a bird that got shot down, and if they need a lion to retrieve it, it must be huge. Luffy! Surely it must be the same bird that flew away with Luffy in tow!

You spring up onto your feet, if he’s here he could have been hurt from the fall. Right now you need to focus on figuring out where he landed and getting to him before they do. Just because Richie didn’t tear into you doesn’t mean that Luffy is going to be as lucky.

#one piece #yandere one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #one piece reader insert #yandere #platonic yandere #monkey d luffy #zoro roronoa #lucky break

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skemford · 7 months

Text

Decided to refresh my knowledge of bendy protagonists personalities/quirks and i can say that i forget how distant canon Audrey is from fanon one sometimes

Here's relatively short list with Audrey character analysis+random tibbits (environmental/gameplay/voice lines)

(I'll appreciate if someone will interact+most of it is under the cut!)

1. Her workplace is an unorganized mess

On the right side: a couple of empty teacups, empty paper sheets, unopened envelope, books/notebooks, a toy ball and keys in the middle of the desk, storyboards that are UNRELATED to what she was working on;

On the left side: donut that she kept close to her elbow & storyboards while she was drawing + to-do list for a day

There's no WAY she'll be able to keep anything tidy. If you hc her and Bendy to have a familiar bond post game, she'll be as messy if not messier. Her home might be a wreck.

2. She easily distracts

- Audrey is working overtime and claims that she has "only eight hundred more frames to go" until the next deadline

But was she actually *actively* working?

She has unrelated items on her desk (listed above) and jumps on the first opportunity to get a coffee.

If she really did wanted to have a drink, she literally has a soda machine close to her office doors.

Some brands of soda do have caffeine in them, right? Getting a coffee looks more like an excuse for a walk.

Bonus point: if you'll stay in her office without getting up (for 15 minutes), she'll acknowledge that she has no time to waste and will return to work instead.

- "Well, the coffee's good and all. But this work's gotta get done"

Worth to acknowledge: this girl has "employee of the month" award and some kind of animation award (boris statue) in her office .

Does she stays overtime everyday to finish something? Or other Archgate employees are even worse at their jobs, somehow?

3. She uses dry sarcasm or makes jokes a lot

Honestly, it happens really often and should be brought up in fan content more imo.

Due to the images limit i can't put a lot of examples with screnshoots but I'll quote some of them.

- "i think you and i have very different definitions of alright" (toward Allison)

- "Looks like he's having a bad day" (about dead lost one with the gent pipe)

- "Ok! Yeah! And that totally makes sense" (reaction to an easter egg)

- "That's one leap of faith i definitely won't make" (about the pit in animation alley)

4. Audrey gets defensive when someone starts to talk over her or when she feels overwhelmed

Audrey either will deny what was said or will acknowledge it by being sarcastic

Prominent example of this is her reaction to Memory!Joey at the hotel:

- "Oh,now you knew my father. Well, newsflash! I didn't even knew my father...or my mother. Or anyone else in my family" (after Joey says that she has "adventurous spirit of her father")

- "What? Are you crazy?... Who do you think you are?" (after the reveal of her being created by the ink machine)

+ Similar behaviour can be seen in her short interaction with Twisted Alice (Susie).

Audrey prefers to keep conversation equal between both sides and when it fails to work, she'll either stay silent or will express frustration (which can be seen with her replying "no" to Twisted Alice and not saying anything afterwards)

5. She seems to trust Allison enough to be vulnerable around her

After leaving the spider lair, she'll try to reach to Allison through the speakers

- "Alice? Are... you there?... Alice!"

She'll acknowledge that she feels scared and after Allison won't sound reassuring enough, Audrey's hand will be visibly shaking.

Allison is the only character Audrey has opened to; you'll never see her being that vulnerable with anyone else

(She is honest with Henry but not on this level)

It makes me wish they had more interactions; Allison for sure was really important in early development of the game.

6. She's blunt

Through the game Audrey is a type of person who says whatever is on her mind without hiding her intentions too much.

She's emotional and rarely thinks twice (most of her decisions are impulsive or sometimes irrational) which reflects on the way she talks.

It's often slips out through sarcasm when she gets defensive/tries to cope but it's also happens in relatively safe environment (for example, when she talks with Betty):

- "Are you...very old?" (Wilson's mansion, bedroom)

This one liner is the most random question you can say to a stranger; I doubt it was very well thought out from her side

7. Audrey easily trusts people which makes her easy to manipulate

I couldn't skip this one.

When Wilson has created a story about his "poor lost father" as a bait and Audrey did believed in this, there are multiple reasons for "why"

This either could come from her being "goodhearted" or the circumstances being used against her

- She went through whole "father trauma" in one day without being able to process anything & get proper answers:

An idea of "saving" another father (Nathan Arch) who she could've knew more than her own father (Nathan says in one tape that he meet young animators at least once) could've hit her really close to home

- Audrey never actually got a real answer on how to leave the cycle, teaming up with Wilson (who was able to enter and leave) could've looked like the only one way back

(I do acknowledge that writing in DR could've been better at places but if you do think about it in this way,it makes sense)

7.1. She is empathetic

I think that this part says everything for itself and it doesn't need to be explained. Thought, she's the one who decide if someone deserves it.

- She felt bad for hurting Bendy on accident & apologized when she was able to

- When she met Allison for the last time, she "gave" her this name, remembering that she doesn't like to be called 'Alice'

- At the end of the game she wants to try to make the cycle better for everyone.

Twisted Alice (Susie) was included which means that Audrey doesn't hold grudges against her (even with the latest one wanting to kill her previously)

8. Audrey puts her arm through an ink container without hesitation or any side thoughts

IT IS a game mechanic and lore wise you can relate it to her being an ink creature

But honestly? It's in character for Audrey.

We're talking about someone who decided to go to great lengths to catch an aquarium fish (that's kept as a pet) and wanted to use it...for a recipe.

8.1. She doesn't mind eating out of trashcans

If you think that wanting to use someone's pet for a recipe is too weird, you're actually wrong. But eating out of trashcan (when you have other options) may be.

Thought, she drives a line on a food that has flies or other insects on it (like "chocolate cake")...i guess in other cases, it's fine to her.

~~~~~~~

Trivial things:

- Bendy seems to be her favourite cartoon character.

She calls him "little guy" in prologue and keeps close to her storyboards where he's the main character:

In the cycle, she acts joyful when she first stumbles upon the real deal.

- She loves chocolate donuts

- Audrey uses dark eyeshadows (can be seen only in prologue custscene. It's hard to notice at first)

- Her breakfast from to-do list are toasts

- She has abstract Bendy painting in her office

- It can be speculated that she's uncomfortable with being touched (or with someone being physically close), unless, she's the one who initiates it

~~~~~~~~~

#bendy and the dark revival #batdr #bendy #audrey drew #audrey batdr #joey drew #(mentioned)#allison angel #(mentioned too)#my post

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jamminvroomvroom · 2 years

Text

karma rules! part 2.

ln x fem!reader

read part 1: ‘a golf swing and a trampoline’!!

back on my lando bullshit lmao. HI! here’s part 2! i wanted to write a second part considering how things were left in part 1. very interested in knowing if y’all want a third part!! thank you so much for all the love on part 1, one of my fav things i’ve written 🫶 n e wayz, please enjoy more lando suffering and max on lando violence.

sticking to the ‘little freak’ harry vibes with this one too. karma really does rule!

in which everyone is sad and horny.

warnings: 18+!! swearing, alcohol, aaaaangst omg, smut, fluff, max being very fucking annoying, reader being a sexy girlboss, lando’s entire character

7.2k words

lando couldn’t recall exactly how long he’d been stood outside your bedroom door staring at max. he couldn’t recall exactly how long max had been stood there either, staring back at him; disgust etched across his downturned lips and an unwavering sheen of hurt clouded his eyes, greener than usual, probably from the envy scorching through his veins. lando could feel his jaw relaxing every few seconds, his mouth falling open, apologies daring to spill from his parted lips. no sound came out. what was there to say? nothing, apparently, as max turned on his heel and stormed off back towards his room.

lando stood motionless for a second too long, blinking rapidly, mouth bone dry. anxiety pooled in the pit of his stomach in the most horrific way, although he supposed he deserved it. some small trace of sense that he’d lost when you turned up on that godforsaken golf course returned, and he finally sprung into action, chasing max down. when he finally caught up to his friend, max was already on the verge of slamming the door in lando’s tanned face.

“max, please, just hear me out-“ lando was breathless, flailing helplessly as he tried to find the right words. max wasn’t keen on giving him the chance to.

“you have everything. you have everything else that i want. why did you need to take her as well?” max spat the words, rage-laced and unrelenting in their brutality. lando’s mouth once again hung agape.

apparently it was a rhetorical question, one that lando would probably think about until his last breath, as the door slammed shut in his reddened face.

what a mess he’d made.

lando’s attention had been taken away from the ceiling looming above him by the slamming of a door and the sound of suitcase wheels rolling along the floor. he’d been sprawled out on his bed, helplessly awake since the early hours of the morning, since he’d crept out of your bed, since max had slammed the door in his face. yet another wave of dread washed over lando, adding to the tally, as he dragged himself up off of the duvet that he’d melted into and arose, daring to investigate. it didn’t take a genius to work out what was going on.

cracking the door open, his suspicions were confirmed. max was almost at the staircase, suitcase in tow behind him. lando sighed, pushing the door open and stepping out into the hall. max turned around at the noise, eyes daring lando to try and convince him to stay after such a betrayal.

“you’re not actually leaving are you?” lando’s voice sounded just as pathetic as he felt. max rolled his eyes.

“what does it look like?” he scoffed in response.

“don’t be silly. come on, we can talk about this.” lando tried to ignore the guilt. an impossible task.

“silly? you fucked her, you prick. there’s nothing to talk about.” max seethed, teeth gritted. lando’s eyes fell shut, unable to meet max’s.

“it’s not like that.”

“then what’s it like? you can’t help yourself, can you? you’re so used to having everything that you want. you had to add her to the collection of things that you have and i don’t.”

“don’t make this into something it’s not.” max’s allusions were misplaced, as far as lando was concerned. lando had taken nothing from max. never a seat, never a girl. not even the one person that he wanted. you weren’t even max’s to be stolen, and yet you and lando had parted ways out of courtesy for no one other than max.

“what is it then? tell me. tell me all about how deep and meaningful it is.” max mocked, hitting lando right where it hurt: his track record with women. “tell me that you’re madly in love with her. i bet you can’t. i know you, lando,” max was pointing his finger now. “i know she’s nothing but another fuck. and you know how i feel about her!” he was getting louder, a little too loud for lando’s liking, considering they were stood right outside of your door. oh, and because the rest of their friends could probably hear every single word from the surrounding rooms.

“that’s not,” lando’s jaw clenched, he swallowed hard. “that’s not true.” he muttered, not wanting to rile max up further by admitting that, yes, he was madly, pathetically, gut wrenchingly in love with you, and he was almost certain you felt the same way.

“you’re such a fucking joke.” max threw the words and they landed square in lando’s chest, leaving him winded. max turned away, resuming his beeline for the stairs once again. lando stepped forward.

“and what am i supposed to tell the others, huh?” lando called, exasperated.

“i don’t know, maybe tell them how much of an asshole you are.”

he didn’t see max’s face again, the door slamming harshly, a line drawn in the sand, a boundary. not that lando had any issue with crossing lines, something he was bitterly reminded of when he turned away from the stairs, letting out an existential sigh as he did, only to be met with your furrowed eyebrows, quivering lips, and oceans of sadness and un-cried tears swirling in your eyes.

it hurt. it actually, physically pained lando. reaching out for you, touching you, even just for a second, just to comfort you, it was forbidden now. he knew that if he pulled you close, he’d never be able to let go. they’d have to find some way to alter his mclaren so that you could race with him. he would not be able to let you go. you knew this just as well as he did. he wondered for a moment why you were looking at him the way you were. distant, confused, sad. after the night you’d shared, the most beautiful, bittersweet turn of events, he couldn’t fathom why you looked so distraught at the sight of him.

why are you looking at me like he did? lando wondered.

that was, of course, until he realised that you’d heard everything.

“i know you, lando.”

“i know she’s nothing but another fuck.”

ouch.

“i don’t know what you heard.” lando’s words scratched the back of his throat, clawing their way out of his mouth and leaving nothing but bitter, bitter regret all over his tongue. he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. nothing would have pleased him more. he’d made too big of a mess.

“just all of it.” your voice was dusted in sleep, the very sleep that he’d peacefully left you in. you didn’t sound like yourself at all and it scared him.

“he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” lando rushed out, trying to salvage any respect you had left for him. you were not just a body to him.

“but he knows you, lando.” you whispered, delicately devastated.

“he doesn’t know anything about the way i feel for you.” if lando needed you to understand one thing, he desperately needed you to understand that.

“he’s lashing out,” you nodded your head softly as you spoke, as if to tell lando that you understood what he was trying to say. “we hurt him.”

“no, i hurt him. this is all my fault.”

“takes two to tango.” you mused, always apt at breaking the ice.

“i never should have let it happen.” and maybe that was the truth, but lando knew that he would thank whatever god he could think of for giving him that one night. the words you’d whispered to him the night before were almost worth the agony.

“do you regret it?” he admired the way you tried to control your shaky voice when you asked.

“i should.” max was right, lando truly was an asshole.

“i didn’t ask whether you should or not, lando. i asked you if you regret it. there are two answers.” this was the first flash he’d gotten on this not so fine morning that you were losing your temper with him. how could he blame you? he would have been wise to start listing all the people he’d pissed off on this trip, but he feared there wasn’t a big enough piece of paper, or enough ink in the world.

“of course i don’t. but i-“

“no. no ‘buts’. it’s already too painful. no ‘buts’.” your words were electrifying in the worst possible way. he had hurt you. this was hurting you. and there was nothing he could do that would make it any better.

“i’m sorry. i’m so, so sorry.” the emptiness of his apology, despite how much he meant it, was daunting. he had hurt you.

you scoffed. he was getting sick of that sound.

“i don’t want your apology, lando.”

“well, i can’t give you what you want.” he sounded desperate, oh so desperate, a wounded animal frantically searching for a way out. your eyes fluttered shut, a sigh settling deep in your bones. you took one last look at him, knuckles turning a pasty white from how hard you were gripping the door. slowly, it began to close, doing yourself a favour, and shutting him out.

“bye, lando.” you whispered, before you were cast out of sight. if he was counting, this would have been the third door to slam in his face and the sun had barely broken in the sky. what a miserable record to hold; the most people that cannot bare to look at you before 8am.

why would no one give him the luxury of letting him apologise? it made him sick, just how far gone the entire situation was, how out of control he was. a racing drivers worst nightmare. somehow, he’d managed to kill two birds with one stone. max was gone, and it seemed like you weren’t far behind him. maybe you and max were meant for each other after all.

that thought made him feel sicker than anything else had.

phone calls were always awkward, especially for someone as awkward as lando. the awkwardness was intensified by the fact that max was ignoring every single one of his calls, ending them before they could even ring out. there were only so many calls that you could make before you succumbed to the fact that no progress was being made. the next best thing that lando could do was catch a flight, and so that’s what he did.

lando ignored every single quizzical look, ignored the way his brother and tom looked at him doubtfully when he announced that he was leaving early “because of a work thing” that he was “sworn to secrecy” over. he just shrugged at all of their questions as he threw his neatly hung shirts in his suitcase and floored it out of his rented bedroom, taking a similar route to max. down the stairs and out the door. but unlike max, lando was weak. he couldn’t leave without one last glance over his shoulder, one last look at you.

you stood with folded arms, almost judgemental, narrow eyes glazed over with a shimmer that made lando’s heart plummet. you’d chosen him, and yet he was choosing to go and fight for max’s friendship. how tragic.

deep down, he knew he was being cowardly, running away. he needed space, needed to finally be able to breathe again and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to do that in a house with you, especially without max’s watchful eye. he also knew that if he played this right, fixed what needed fixing, there was a possibility, albeit a slim one, that he’d be able to initiate something real with you.

while he desperately needed to fix things with max, purely because he was his best friend, he also knew that max acted as a stepping stone, a gate keeper, as tasteless as it sounded. max’s friendship meant the world to him and he was grateful for it, no matter how many times he lost a round of golf, but you were like air and he knew that he needed you just as much. not more, but definitely just as much. it was a delicate balance, one that he thought of in the taxi, imagining he was rested against you again, one that he thought of as the plane took off, as it landed, and as he reclaimed his luggage.

pulling up at max’s parents house was as panic inducing as it should have been, and definitely embarrassing. lando shuffled awkwardly up to the front door, ringing the bell as he rocked backwards and forwards on the balls of his feet. when the door swung open to reveal theo, max’s brother, lando momentarily wondered if he needed to book a haircut with the younger fewtrell, before his thoughts were cast aside by the flash of confusion on the face staring back at him. lando smiled sheepishly, never more uncomfortable in his life.

“first max turns up a week early, and now you? what the fuck happened in greece?” were the first words that theo spoke, tilting his head in confusion.

“is he here?” lando enquired, deciding to cut the bullshit and skip the pleasantries, following suit.

“upstairs in his room, hasn’t said a word. what happened?” theo quirked an eyebrow. lando was always a bit strange, sure, but never so on edge. lando, of course, ignored the question. sometimes media training did pay off.

“can i come in? i need to speak to him.” he didn’t realise how urgent he sounded until the words left him, an undoubtedly suspicious theo stepping aside and letting him in.

lando threw a ‘thank you’ over his shoulder, disappearing up the stairs. he was familiar with this house, easily navigating his way through the building that held so many childhood memories, memories that he would not allow to be tarnished. it only hit him that he’d fled greece and chased max across europe once max’s bedroom door came into sight. he froze, attempting to compose himself. it was futile, his breath shaky as he knocked on max’s door.

“what?” the clipped response sounded from the other side of the wood, drenched in angst. lando held his breath, swinging the door open. had it not been for the rather tense situation, lando would have squawked with laughter at the double take max did. “what the fuck?”

“we need to talk.” it seemed easier to get straight to the point. max didn’t exactly seem interested in pleasantries.

“could you not have called?” sarcasm drenched max’s voice, eyes narrowed and unforgiving.

“that’s not funny.” lando sighed, thinking about the many, many times his finger had pressed down on max’s name in his phone.

“my sincerest apologies.” sarcasm won out again, and lando wondered if this was a mistake.

“are you gonna hear me out? i did just fly here.” lando snapped, trying to reign it in, keep himself in check. he was getting desperate.

“and the damage is repaired. thanks so much for thinking of me.”

“all i’ve done is think about you.”

silence settled between them, lando’s words hanging heavy in the air. max’s face grew angrier, jawline tightening.

“and what is that supposed to mean?” max demanded, eyebrows furrowing.

“i’m here, aren’t i? i’m fucking here.” he was here and not with you, where he actually wanted to be. that had to count for something, had to show how much he valued max. realisation dawned in max’s eyes. lando was with him.

“you knew how i felt about her.” max stated. lando nodded. of course he knew, he felt it too. max sighed. “how long?”

lando was silent.

“how fucking long?”

“since that first day. i was relieved when she dumped you, but of course, you couldn’t let her go.” lando tried to lighten the mood but it didn’t translate. it didn’t help that he wasn’t really joking.

“are you trying to blame me?” max bit, eyes narrowing, just as lando thought he was getting somewhere.

“no! for fuck sake, of course i’m not. i just need you to understand.” lando ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

“how long has it been going on with her?” max’s voice was quieter, preparing for another blow.

“just that night. that one night.” lando quickly replied, anxious to reassure max that he wasn’t a total traitor.

“then it shouldn’t be hard to let her go.” max spoke the words so simply that lando almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing. his face fell, chest tightening.

“max-“

“i don’t want to do this, but i can’t sit back and watch you and her. i can’t fucking do it.” the volume of max’s voice crept up again, voice holding an edge of emotion that made lando ache.

“don’t be unreasonable.” lando almost whispered, words holding absolutely no persuasion. he knew it was over.

“don’t be unreasonable? do you hear yourself? you fucked my ex girlfriend! and you haven’t even fucking apologised to me, by the way.” max shook his head in disbelief, hurt all over again.

“i’m sorry. i’m sorry.” lando repeated the words feebly, suddenly exhausted, utterly utterly drained.

“promise me you won’t go any further with her.”

“please don’t do this.”

“you wouldn’t be here if this didn’t matter to you. promise me, lando.” max held lando’s gaze. it was too easy to crumble.

“i promise.”

the words triggered a minor sense of relief across max’s face and a bottomless pit of dread in lando’s stomach.

the months that followed dragged excruciatingly, like nails on a chalkboard.

the season started back up again, providing momentary relief for lando, but it was barely enough. he managed to avoid max as much as he could, until zandvoort, when max had turned up on a work obligation. it was frosty, tense between the two men, anyone could see that, but no one made the mistake of asking why. on paper, things were on the mend, but lando wondered if max would ever forgive him. he wondered if he’d ever forgive max.

whilst him and max weren’t exactly on the best of terms, at least they’d managed to make contact, the occasional twitch stream doing something to chip away at their icy relationship. you, on the other hand, couldn’t have been further away, whilst remaining painfully at the forefront of his mind. he was going insane, deprived of you for the longest period of time since he’d met you. it seemed a tad dramatic to say that your absence was killing him, but that didn’t make it any less true.

the netherlands blurred into italy, into singapore, into japan. lando couldn’t remember the last time he was at home. not monaco, monaco felt too hollow. he missed the uk. he missed running into you when he wasn’t even trying to. the second half of the season was crushing, an uphill battle. he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t lonely, it did get a bit too quiet for his liking when there was no one else along for the ride, quieter than it usually. no max, no you, miserable.

there was a glimmer of rest between japan and the usa, a brief trip to the uk to breathe. he had lunch with his parents, widened his eyes at how much his baby niece had grown, ruffled his younger sisters’ hair in the way only a big brother could. he had a day on the sim, going over things at the factory. it dragged. he was exhausted. the last thing he needed was to attend a friends birthday party, especially on a thursday night after a long week.

an expensive club in central london wasn’t the most appealing of spaces to lando. he preferred restaurants with friends, maybe indulging in a drink or two over dinner if he was feeling adventurous, but he definitely didn’t enjoy the club scene as much as he was supposed to. but it was dark enough in there to hide the bags under his eyes and the music was just about bearable. he knew he wasn’t the most present person in anyones life, so the least he could do was suck it up and stay for a few.

slumped on a barstool, lando was thankful that he made the effort, because one brief glance to his right set his sights on everything he’d been missing.

sad eyes, short black dress, a smile that made the world stop and anyone with sense lose their mind. you’d arrived. was breathing essential to being alive? it couldn’t be because lando certainly wasn’t breathing, and yet there he was, ready to fall to his knees.

lando was definitely sweating, chest tightening, heart beating faster than his mclaren had ever gone down a straight. he was absolutely at a loss for what he was supposed to do. he had no idea that you were coming, perhaps naively. not a lot of the usual suspects would be attending this birthday party, so he’d ever so stupidly assumed that you simply wouldn’t be either. max, for example, had been tied down by a work commitment and wouldn’t be in attendance.

max. max. max. max max max. max!

lando felt lightheaded.

as far as he was aware, you hadn’t clocked him and he wondered if he should keep it that way, no matter how tempting the alternative was. he swirled the drink in his hand, wrist relaxing as he let out a shaky breath. downing the burning liquor in one swift gulp seemed entirely logical, and so that’s what he did, succumbing to instant regret as he shivered the nasty taste away. lando swiftly swung around on the barstool, planting his now empty glass on the counter before placing his palms down on the cool surface. perks of being somewhere fancy: it wasn’t sticky. the coolness of the marble grounded him, allowing for a moment of clarity before the liquid he’d just thrown back seeped into his blood stream and made him weak. well, weaker.

he glanced around, realising that he’d lost you in the sea of people and strobe lights, wondering if he’d actually manage to get away unscathed. what if he’d imagined you? lando felt this strange pull, something that was keeping him in place. he wasn’t prepared to leave just yet. bravely, he actually turned his head, properly scanning the bar to look for your face. it wasn’t hard to find you this time, especially not when you were already staring back at him.

lando’s throat tightened, eyes holding yours, matching the intensity of your gaze. you truly were a sight for sore eyes, easily the prettiest person in the room. he wondered if the dimly lit bar had somewhat brightened for anyone else as soon as you’d walked in. he almost fell off the barstool when you you leaned in to one of your friends, still maintaining eye contact as you whispered in their ear. next thing he knew, you were making your way over. oh god, you were making your way over. he reached for the collar of his white dress shirt, tugging it to no avail; the material was already half unbuttoned anyway. he didn’t breath any easier.

lando turned away, facing the bar as the stool next to his dragged along the floor. he watched from the corner of his eye as you navigated yourself up onto the stool, the heels of your shoes barely grazing the floor as you slumped next to him. you must have looked like a right pair, emitting high levels of irrevocable sadness, and an unhealthy amount of lust. what a combination.

you grabbed the bartenders attention, waving her over.

“i’ll have two of whatever he’s having, please.” you called across the bar, tilting your head towards the lovesick driver.

he was trying to speak, but nothing but bated breath seemed to escape. almost immediately, two glasses had landed in front of you both. without even looking his way, you held your glass out to clink it with his, quickly taking a sip once he’d fumbled his way to respond, knocking his chilled glass with yours.

“fuck, you’re on the strong stuff.” you choked out, probably not expecting something so bitter in your lightweight drinking partners glass. lando barked out a laugh, entirely humourless. he was in agony. “really? nothing to say to me?” you continued, finally turning your body to face him. he continued staring forward, debating his next move.

“thank you for the drink.” lando replied, planting his hands back on the counter to rise from the barstool and leave. he had to leave. his self control was surely fleeting, his patience for other peoples feelings wearing increasingly thin.

“wait!” he didn’t get very far, a hand much smaller than his own flying instinctively to grab at his forearm. he froze in place, eyes widening at your touch and the embarrassing rush of warmth in his chest. your eyes were stormy, some kind of internal battle taking place. “can’t keep watching you leave.” you seemed to whisper the words in the noisy club, yet he heard you perfectly, almost trembling under your touch.

“does it make any difference to know that i don’t want to leave?” lando offered.

“no.” you scoffed, pouting at him.

he tilted his head, offering you his hand, which you didn’t hesitate to take. you rose to your feet, falling into step behind him as he guided you through the club. he needed to talk to you properly, somewhere quiet. you found yourselves out in the smoking area, neither of you having the intention of lighting one up, but at least you were alone. dangerous territory. last time, it had almost cost him dearly.

“i’m sorry that i left.” lando planted himself against the wall, as far away as he could physically be, implementing what he hoped was a safe distance between you.

“yeah? you should be.” you muttered, crossing your arms defensively.

“i didn’t know what to do. i thought that maybe if i spoke to him…” lando trailed off, lost in the memory of max’s words. promise me, lando.

“that he’d be okay with it? come on, lando.” you rolled your eyes.

“not my finest plan. i tried.” he pathetically reasoned.

“wish you’d tried with me.” your comment took him aback. it seemed unfair, cruel. hadn’t you both agreed that it was a one time thing?

“we knew that night, we both knew what we were getting into.”

“yeah, well, doesn’t make it any easier.”

“what would you do? huh? what would you do if you were me?” lando practically begged for your answer, holding himself back against the wall.

you were silent. lando pushed himself off the wall, beginning to pace the small space, met with waves of frustration. you just stood there watching, arms still crossed.

“god, this is a fucking joke.” you scoffed again, moving to block his path. he stopped in his tracks, refusing to meet your eyes.

“yeah, fucking hilarious.” he muttered.

it was completely still between you, no movement but the rise and fall of your chests, syncing up as the space between you grew smaller and smaller. shit.

gently, your fingers wrapped around his shirt sleeve, pulling him a tad closer. he was in trouble. you were destined to be the death of him. he felt your fingertips graze the skin of his wrist, a shiver running down his spine.

“i missed you.” you whispered. his head shot up, finally meeting your eyes.

“you know i missed you too.” he murmured, relaxing further into your touch. lando was convinced to had your own magnetic force field.

“i didn’t, actually.” there she was, the tease that he’d missed more than anything.

“haven’t stopped thinking about you.” lando breathed, giving up the fight. he needed you to know that you were at the centre of his every thought.

“what a coincidence, haven’t stopped thinking about you either.” your hand that wasn’t working its way into his own landed softly against his chest, slowly grazing up until you were gently stroking his neck.

“don’t know if i’ll ever get over you.” all sense was lost.

“i don’t want you to.” you whispered, cupping his cheek. the fingers of your other hand were now laced with his.

“good.” he shuffled forwards, any remaining distance lost to your shared urgency.

“i want you, lando. think i always will.” mere centimetres separated you now, alcohol laced breath mingling.

“you’re driving me crazy.” you smiled at that, nose bumping against his.

“one more time.” you muttered, closing the gap, peppering kisses across his jaw. lando’s eyes rolled back.

“we can’t.” lando spoke with so little conviction that he may as well have fucked you right there in the smoking area.

“says who?” you crooned deviously in his ear.

“fuck.” lando panted, pulling you away from his neck, where you had moved your kisses.

with hooded eyes and no more hesitation, lando cupped your face, pulling your lips to his. you hummed against his lips, fingers threading through his hair to keep him close. the kiss was firm, full of things that should have been said months ago, tongues brushing slowly as he held you as close as he could. as you broke away, breathing heavy, you gripped the collar of his now creased shirt, tugging on the material, your other hand still playing with his curls.

“take me home.” you didn’t need to tell him twice.

getting you back to the apartment he stayed in when he was in the city was easy. he’d hailed a taxi, your lips attached to his neck the entire time you were stood on the pavement. he had you wrapped in his arms, shielding you from the chilly october air, while you marked up his skin. once you’d begun the journey back to his place, you managed to behave yourself, despite pulling his hand to sit up high on your bare thigh. lando paid the fare, helping you out of the taxi, the pair of you scurrying into the lobby of the building and into the elevator.

he kissed you again, pressing you against the wall as you travelled up to his floor. you rolled your hips, testing the waters, hearing him groan into your mouth at your teasing. lando held you there for the duration of the journey, lips moving with yours. the ding of the elevator broke you out of your trance and you smiled into the kiss, pulling away. hand in hand, he guided you into his apartment.

the need for one another took precedent, and you quickly found yourselves in the bedroom. the months that had passed went by slowly, too slowly. you both needed it, you could talk after.

lando paused, standing in the doorway as he watched you walk further into the room. he smiled softly, finally feeling at ease. you were so beautiful, and he needed to show you, but he needed a second to take it all in. you, there, with him. just the two of you. you noticed that he’d stopped, turning back to face him.

“hey, you.” you called, reaching your hand out for him. “come here.” he quickly obeyed. he could see the lust in your eyes, the prettiest colours in the world darkened slightly, pupils blown. something softer swirled underneath, and he lost himself.

“gonna let me show you how much i missed you?” lando lowered his lips to your ear, tongue dragging across the skin beneath it. his hands found a home on your waist, spinning you around so that you were flush against him. again, you rolled your hips, body trembling in his big hands.

“need you, lando.” you whined, feeling his fingers skim your collarbone as he pushed your hair out of his way and over your shoulder.

he hummed against your skin, lips working over your neck, open mouthed kisses leaving you panting. his hands smoothed down your back, over the material of your silky black dress. he bunched the material on the way back up, tugging it until he was pulling it over your head. the dress quickly became an afterthought, dropped to the floor in a heap. lando grabbed at your waist again, gently turning you back around to face him. you looked at him through your eyelashes, shy under his intense stare.

your fingers made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, the few that were still done up. you pushed it off of lando’s shoulders, running your nails down his bare chest. your hands trailed down his abs, fiddling with his belt, and then the button on his jeans. lando kicked them off, the both you standing there in your underwear.

“on the bed.” lando breathed, walking you backwards.

lando picked you up at the last second, lowering you down onto the duvet, quickly slotting himself between your spread legs. your arms were around his neck, bringing his lips against yours. he felt you shiver against him, his hands grazing your sides, as he kissed down your neck, over your collarbone.

lando kissed over the lace of your bra, mouthing at the material as his fingers slotted behind your arched back, unhooking the clasp. he didn’t linger, quickly tearing it away from your chest. he let out a content sigh, lapping at your nipple, fingers tweaking the other. his tongue swirled, teeth making a cheeky appearance that had you gasping as he bit down. you felt his mouth leave you, fingers still grazing your body.

“did you miss me, baby?” lando’s breath fanned across the valley of your breasts as he spoke, your stomach tightening.

“you know i did.” you muttered, staring down at him.

“how much?” he smirked, kissing the flush skin of your chest. he felt like teasing.

“lando.” you warned, threading a hand through his curls. he breathed out a laugh.

“i know, baby, i know.” he resumed his kisses down your body, fingers slipping beneath the band of your underwear. ever so slowly, he began to pull them down, tugging at the band, letting it snap against your skin. you sighed in frustration, pulling on his hair. he grinned, the most genuine smile he’d been able to muster in what felt like forever. it grew when he saw that you couldn’t help but smile back.

he kissed along your navel, finally peeling your panties down your legs. he had you naked beneath him again, finally, and he couldn’t let a moment go to waste.

he took you apart, your legs thrown over his broad shoulders. everything seemed to be moving in flashes, the room disappearing. all he could see was you, hair fanned across his pillow, glowing under the dim lighting, your taste overwhelming him. you thrashed against him, his tongue and his fingers working blissfully until all you could see was white and all you could hear was his name, tumbling from your lips like a prayer.

when he’d kept going, throwing you helplessly over the edge for the second time, you’d let out a cry, gasping through the pleasure that you’d both been so tragically deprived of for too long. he didn’t know if he could stop, didn’t know if he could possibly exercise the type of restraint he’d need to pull himself from between your shaking legs, but your hand in his hair managed to pull him back to reality. he didn’t know where you’d found the strength but he was hovering over you again.

lando took in the sight of you, messy hair, tear stained face, eyes shot with adrenaline, exhaustion. you flashed him a heart stopping grin, eyes fluttering shut as your chest heaved, and he crumbled again, for the millionth time that evening. giving you a second to breath, he brought his soaked fingers to his lips, licking away the mess you’d made. the groan he let out was animalistic, your eyes shooting open.

the kiss you shared was messy, laced with traces of you on his tongue and a clash of teeth. he settled between your thighs, your hands pushing his underwear down until he laid bare on top of you.

“you have no idea how much i missed you. no idea.” lando muttered, lining himself up. he ran the tip of his cock through your folds, slowly pushing inside. you whined, clinging onto him as he moved his hips until you were full. he stilled, hand brushing the hair from your eyes, which were piercing his own.

there was nothing else. there was no max and no time apart, no sad eyes and missed opportunities. there was you, and there was him, and that was it.

“need you to move.” you moaned, fingers digging into his shoulder blades.

lando’s hips retracted slowly, before he was setting a delicious rhythm. he rocked into you at the perfect pace, hips hitting yours. your eyes has rolled back in your head, his own remaining fixed on the way your face moved, eyelashes dusting your cheeks, the creases in your forehead, the way you kept smiling as the pleasure took its hold.

he was dizzy, utterly ruined as he fucked you. your touch left him weak, oblivious to anything else. it didn’t matter what happened after this, he would never regret it, no matter how dire the consequences. you were heavenly around him, squeezing him so tight as you had your way with him. he was teetering on the edge, on the verge of a beautiful collapse, but all that mattered was you.

lando rutted his hips, watching your body spasm as he hit that spot over and over, his fingers sliding between your sweat dampened bodies to find your overstimulated clit. a few messy circles and you’d had it, a broken scream of his name tearing from the back of your throat.

his name. no one else’s.

that was enough for lando, all he needed to hear to send him catapulting into the abyss, vision bright white as he collapsed on top of you. he could feel you shuddering, kissing your neck to try and dull the aftershocks.

you stayed there entangled for god knows how long, unmoving in one another’s embrace. you were so warm against him that lando couldn’t bring himself to move. it was serene, the peace of having you beneath him, wrapped around him, stroking his hair lazily while he panted into the crook of your neck. the peace of knowing that he wouldn’t need to sneak away at the break of dawn. when he eventually mustered the strength to pull himself away, you whined.

“where are you going?” you groaned, as he stood from the bed.

“just getting something to clean you up, baby.” lando replied, slipping into the en-suite.

he returned a few moments later with a flannel, wiping over your thighs before tossing it with his laundry. lando quickly pulled the covers back, climbing into the bed beside you. you rolled over, draping yourself over his chest, his arm winding around your shoulders securely.

“stay tonight.” lando whispered. it wasn’t a question, nor was it a demand. it was his way of pleading, of keeping you close for as long as he could. he felt you nod your head in agreement.

“didn’t wanna go anyway.” you giggled, eyes still shut. you could have easily fallen asleep.

“don’t want you to go. don’t want to lose you again.” lando mumbled. he felt you tense up. you weren’t laughing anymore.

“don’t get my hopes up.” you whispered back, burying your face in his chest, as if you were hiding from him. the cracks in his heart that your evening together had bandaged up began to splinter.

“i’ll fix this. we can fix it.” lando affirmed, begging that you’d listen. all the time spent with you reminded him that without you, he was miserable.

“i wish that was true.” you sighed. he clung on to the fact that you were still here. he could convince you, he was sure of it.

“i’ll deal with him. he has to understand.” lando alluded, cupping your cheek.

“lando, stop-“ you argued.

“please, just let me try. i want you. fuck, i need you.” he really, really did. you seemed to soften at that, frustrated expression melting away.

you craned your neck, leaning up to peck his lips. all of his worries dissipated then, and he knew that he belonged to you. lando knew that this was it, that you and him were headed somewhere. it was good, this thing between you, feelings that he’d never felt, that he didn’t even have labels for, surfacing at even the briefest glance, the softest touch.

as you fell asleep in his arms to soft kisses on your forehead, lando laid there staring at the ceiling. he’d just betrayed his best friend. again. but that wasn’t what was keeping him from falling asleep.

no, what was keeping lando awake was the fact that he simply didn’t care; how could he with you sleeping so soundly next to him? and that scared him more than anything else. as far as lando was concerned, max had his chance, and he blew it. lando would be damned if he made the same mistake.

the things you did to him, the hold you had, it was almost frightening. and with every deep breath you took, he fell deeper and deeper.

when he woke up to your body pressed against his, feeling more refreshed than he had since august, lando smiled. he hadn’t even opened his eyes yet and you had him smiling. what kind of fool did that make him?

your catlike stretching and urgent need for coffee had driven the pair of you out of bed, despite how much lando hated the stuff and the both of you wanting to spend the morning tearing one another to shreds. you figured you had the rest of the day to get to that. you’d laughed as he threw his shirt at you, the sleeves too long. it hit mid thigh, the pair of you ignoring the creases as lando pulled you into him, rolling up the sleeves. he smirked at the goosebumps that littered your skin, left behind in the wake of his touch. you shoved his shoulder at his cocky smile.

lando made you a coffee, all of that work experience at mclaren finally paying off as he slid it across the counter towards you. you smiled, grateful, taking a sip. he pottered around the kitchen for a while, mumbling something about not knowing how to cook without setting the kitchen on fire. you were endeared as you watched him, leaning across the counter, resting your elbows on the surface. it was domestic and it was a long time coming.

neither of you wanted it to end, but you knew that important steps needed to be taken. lando was already mapping out the blueprints for what he would say to max, willing to grovel on his knees if that’s what it took.

it was lucky that lando was so accustomed to quick thinking, because the sound of keys in the lock made him realise that the grovelling would be starting a lot sooner than anticipated. there was only one other person with a set of keys. you know, for emergencies. lando was pretty certain that there was about to be an emergency.

your heart plummeted as the door swung open, the dress shirt hanging loosely off of your body doing little to preserve anyones dignity. max’s face fell immediately, the cogs in his brain spinning into action as he took in the disheartening sight before him.

hickeys, bare legs and messy hair. a train wreck.

this was becoming an unfortunate habit.

sorry max lol

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emmitaaa4 · 3 months

Text

Minor HOFAS spoilers ig?

The Walmart bonus chapter just leaked and good lord some people need to be for real. I'm so tired of people picking and choosing evidence.

So you're telling me that *gasp* Azriel's shadows seem to dance when he hums?? they react to sound/music?? no way. people from all sides of the fandom have been saying that for years (and use it for different arguments), and looks like ppl are still tying anything they can to feed their ship--which is fine but at least make it somewhat accurate.

The above is the last page of the Az/Bryce/Nesta chapter, and just as a refresher, this is the oh-so controversial phrases from the Az bonus chapter:

"(...) one of his shadows went out to dance with it (gwyn's breath) before twirling back to him. like it heard some silent music." and "(...) he could have sworn a faint, beautiful singing followed him. could have sworn his shadows sang in answer."

I'm confused, which is it? Was the shadow's reaction to her breath & the singing he heard all metaphorical, thereby hinting at a mating bond between gwyn & az (as in "music between souls")? Or was it rather azriel's shadows reacting to a literal sound coming from someone who has arguably been hinted at having some voice/song-related abilities? Because if it is the first, then this new HOFAS excerpt is completely unrelated. Well unless Azriel has a mating bond with himself? pleaseee make it make sense I beg. And if the second is true, it would mean that for someone to be able of making his shadows dance, they'd have to have similar powers as him... its just gonna fuel the lightsinger theories (which btw approx 5 ppl are saying means that gWyn is eViL) so this literally changes nothing. nada. absolument rien.

Oh also.

"He says no partner right now, aka NO FUCKING ELRIEL. ELRIEL IS DEAD." (no hate to whoever posted that btw)

He literally rushes out that answer. Idk about you guys but to me the poor man still seems internally dead over the whole mate existential crisis, which as far as we know was left with him wondering "what if the cauldron was wrong". Sidenote but if I understood correctly, this all happens 2-3 months post acosf and Bryce spends ±5 days in Prythian, so it is very likely that it is all set during Acotar 5, and that the events of HOFAS in general are happening while Az is separated from the other MC (ie. the acotar5 FMC).

Regardless of all I just said, I am going to ask people once again to be for real. cause this whole chapter Azriel keeps glaring at Nes when she is about to reveal too much info, so WHY would he be mentioning Elain (or literally anyone he cares about) to someone who he is said to be highly suspicious of? make it make sense x2

Almost forgot. Last thing.

"Azriel said that Nesta killed the King! He didn't credit Elain!"

... no? for context, this is what Az said:

See my second point above. He told Bryce exactly what Nes did, and nothing more: she beheaded Hybern. We could speculate about what his look at Truthteller made him think of... but tbh I'll leave it to someone else cause perso I dont really see the point.

I am getting tired guys... guess who finally understands what "fandom fatigue" is.

-----quick edit-----

I don't mean to sound hypocritical by tagging ships, cause tbh i dont even wanna put acotar ship tags to this, mais bon c'est la vie et j'en peux plus. this fandom is kind of a mess. Goodnight loves ♡

#hofas #hofas spoilers #azriel #anti gwynriel #elriel #azriel shadowsinger #elain archeron

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ilylovelyz · 9 months

Note

play fighting with tsukishima, that turns into a heated argument after you accidentally punched him in the face?

⍣ ೋ all the lonely nights in your life

˚ · . tsukishima x gn!reader

: ̗̀➛ fluff to angst, yelling + arguments, unintentional physical harm, unresolved/dubious ending

are you crying in the kitchen? are you sleeping in too long?

boisterous laughter bounced off the walls of the shared bedroom you inhabited with your beloved boyfriend.

"heh - stop it!" you whined out, cheeks a soft red due to his unrelenting teasing. you enjoyed the moments like these, where the two of you could just laugh at the most random things forever.

your cheeks were sore, straining from all of the intense laughing you were doing. his big hands were attached to your waist, keeping you in place against him. you writhed in his grasp, practically out of breath from the hard way you were trying to escape his teasing.

he grinned amusingly at you, golden-brown eyes crinkled up into happy crescents while he watched you adoringly tried to escape him. he loved teasing you, it was just a normal instinct of his naturally, and it just seemed to double since it was you he was teasing.

he always knew not to go so far when teasing you, especially since you were much more sensitive and conscious about yourself. but, there was no harm when it came to play-fighting right? he doesn't even need to apply that much of his strength before you're pinned against whatever surface you're laying on.

though, he should've known that what is little of his strength, is very much all of yours.

"agh-kei!" you squealed out once more, trying to fight off tsukishima's tickling hand and eventually fighting it off away, holding it just above your face. suddenly, his hand moved and yours is slipping.

slap.

the sound came first before the realization. your eyes widened at sting of the impact on your hand before your eyes shot back up to your boyfriend's face, a clear red impact mark on his cheekbone.

before you knew it, the once soft and happy atmosphere turned sour and gloomy as tsukishima pulled away from you and climbed off the bed. "i-i'm sorry kei! i didn't mean to-" you cried out, a red embarrassed twinge settling onto your cheeks.

he checked out the damage in your vanity's mirror with an annoyed expression, "why did you do that?" his tone was almost scary to you, while you've seen him angry before, it was never directed towards you.

you stumbled over your words, wondering how to answer his question. "huh?! hello?" he asked once more, eyebrow raising at your silence.

you tilted your head with confusion at his taunting, is he talking to you? "w-what do you mean by that? are you saying i did it on purpose?" you unexpected said, eyebrows furrowed at the clear misunderstanding.

your heart sped up at the thought of arguing with tsukishima, a well-known argumenter, who probably has the easy ability to make you cry. but you weren't just about to let his tone slide, nor take the blame of a clear misunderstanding.

"well you did hit me? you didn't need to put your whole strength into it, what the hell?" he said back, voice getting higher and higher with every sentence. "what do you mean? were we not just play-fighting? i-is that not supposed to require strength?!" you said back sarcastically.

"you-" "do you not know the difference between a man's and a woman's strength?! i didn't even know i was using that much strength! i thought you were smarter than this." you coyly said, pointing a finger at him.

he turned red at your last statement, a stress crinkle forming on his forehead. yeah this wasn't gonna end pretty, you thought. "and besides, it's not my fault you moved last second. if there's a blame on anyone here it's you." you concluded, arms crossing over your chest defensively.

he started at you with that angry look, the one that always made you nervous for whoever he was looking at. you never imagined he would be looking at you that way in a million years, but here he is now.

still, you held your ground. "you can stare at me all you want, it still won't make a difference. we can either just get over it, or you can spend a night or two on the couch, angry, and alone."

you didn't expect him to walk out of the bedroom, slamming your door shut during his walk out, causing you to flinch at the rough sound.

regretting your offer, you were left sitting on the bed, a little too cold for your liking. wrapping a blanket around you, you resisted the urge to cry, blinking away the stinging tears brimming at your waterline.

"what a jerk." you pouted.

please leave a like and repost with tags :)

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strayheartless · 3 months

Text

I want to talk about Genesis when he’s angry with his friends. Not his performative flying off the handle but his actual anger.

I’m imagining the first time Angeal comes into contact with it is just before they sign up for SOLDIER. Maybe he tells Gen that he’s too sickly to be a SOLDIER. Maybe he doesn’t expect Gen to go silent (he doesn’t do that usually.) he expects yelling and throwing things and being generally Genesis about it.

He doesn’t expect Genesis to go stone faced and silent, to look Angeal dead in the eye and to keep looking him in the eye until Angeal can’t keep looking at him. He doesn’t expect Genesis to stand solid and immovable nor did he expect the swift, soft and extremely final “get out”.

Angeal has talked to his mother and to Sephiroth about how devastating Genesis’s rage can be.

Sephiroth doesn’t really pay it much mind. He thinks he’s seen all that Gens anger has to give. He thinks he’s seen Genesis “rage”.

But then they are eighteen and Gen and Angeal are on the cusp of becoming Firsts. They are training together all three and Sephiroth gets fustrated with Genesis’s form, his lack of adherence to direction and order. He ends up yelling that Genesis has no place as a first class soldier, that he is a disgrace to the rank of soldier.

Angeal stops moving and goes to look fearfully at Gen. he expects silence and unblinking anger, but there’s a woosh sound and as he finally looks over he sees Sephiroth’s head has snapped to the side and a deep cut trickles blood on his cheek bone.

Gen isn’t breathing heavy. Hes not yelling or getting in Sephs face. Angeal isn’t even sure Genesis has registered his own movement. But his eyes are fire. His posture is what it had been that day Angeal had questioned his ability too, but he’d never struck Angeal. Genesis never would strike Angeal, he knows that. Gen is many things but he’s not that…

Sephiroth puts his hand to his cheek and sees the blood, notices that the strike has sliced hair from his bangs. Seph is in shock, because in all the time they’ve been training Genesis has never gotten a hit on him like that. NOBODY has ever gotten a hit on him like that except Hojo, and that is only because it would be more then Sephs life was worth to fight the man back.

He starts shaking. Genesis stares at him in silent unrelenting rage and says “How weak I must be. To make a God bleed.” And then turns and leaves.

The first time Zack ever sees Genesis Rage, it isn’t directed at him. Its in Wutai and technically Zack wasn’t even part of Gens company; he was part of Angeals. Except Angeals been Cut down, and Sephiroth is further up the battlefield cutting a way through the lines of soldiers.

Genesis watches Angeal go down. He watches Zack knee slide towards the man and pack his wound as the Medic struggles to get to them.

Zack sees Genesis face Angeal’s would be executioner. He watches him cut down the man with brutal efficiency that would give post Nibelheim Sephiroth a run for his money. He tries to keep up with the swing of Rapier, but suddenly the battles over and Angeals been taken off his hands and Genesis is stood above a sea of bodies.

Zack sees Sephiroth come towards them. He sees him check on Angeal, watches his Mentor grab Sephs hand and pull him down to tell him something from the stretcher. He watches Sephiroth nod and move to Genesis, placing a hand on the man’s cheek to clean the blood that’s flecked there.

And there the two of them stand.

The demon of Wutai and his angel of death. Beautiful in their terribleness.

Zack thinks later, when Genesis has deserted that Shinra does not have a clue what they have unleashed.

Zack KNOWS after Nibelheim that it is only by the grace of Gaia that Genesis and Sephiroth did not choose to inflict their rage together.

Cloud knows upon seeing Genesis rage after the events of AC that it is only by the Grace of Genesis himself that they do not fall to his mercy. Sephiroth will always be the distroyer of worlds. But Genesis has true potential to be a vengful god.

#I don’t know what this is #thinking about Genesis and his rage #I think Genesis truely vengfully angry would rival sephiroth #and that it is only because Genesis was raised different that everyone else is safe #ffvii #genesis rhapsodos #angeal hewley #sephiroth #zack fair #crisis core #cloud strife #post ac genesis #post ac cloud

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jasonsmirrorball · 7 months

Text

I PICTURE IT SOFT, AND I ACHE JASON TODD (college!au)

↳ on being a wallflower, and the despair of the life you haven't lived

You’re silent in the car as Jason drives you home. It’s a little after eleven, and the streets are only beginning to fill up, traffic downtown stilted and loud with the roar of Saturday nightlife. Girls in short dresses run across the road, boys flanking them, hands shoved in jacket pockets and chatting casually. A car makes a turn that makes you absently wonder its legality.

Red washes over you, blinks of yellow as the passing street lights spill into through the window. Your eyes unfocus, open and unseeing except of softened edges and hazy shapes. The blinker is a repetitive sound in the silence, an on and off clicking weaving in between your jagged breaths.

You can only see the ballerina in your mind, and your lips part as if to gather a breath but your throat tightens and you feel sick with wanting. Only hours ago, hadn’t you been sat in this seat, excited and unable to stop it from pouring forth? You’d talked Jason’s ear off, when the sun had only just become to come down, when the light had dappled through the oak leaves outside the restaurant and painted everything in whimsy shades of red and gold, sunlight cast onto cobblestone like a storybook town.

You’d walked side by side on the brick path, shoulders brushing every so often as you swayed into him, the tide pulled to the moon. You’d filtered into the theatre, whispering and stepping carefully into the row, warming at the proximity of his arm to yours. You’d bent your heads together and laughed quietly.

How’d you end up here?

Jason takes a breath and it sounds muffled to your ears, only half filtering in through the buzzing in your head. “...you okay?”

You blink slowly, tipping your head. The ballerina turns in your mind, frozen under the stage lights in an eternal pirouette, arms held above her head. You think of her, so close you could reach out and touch the planes of her face.

Your fingers touch your own cheek, limbs leaden and clumsy.

You think of the crowded theatre, jagged spots from the mirrorball cast over the crowd blanketed in dark crimson–the lights, or your own cuts opening over in the middle of the show? You’d felt like an open wound, sitting limply watching the figures spin across the stage, shimmering, radiant.

And at the centre of it, her.

You feel your face heat, shame and desire clouding your vision. She stands, spotlight cast on beautiful features, eyes glittering and cheeks flushed. A hand raised in a wave, hair falling straight in an umber curtain, plastic crown resting heavy upon a head meant to wear something realer. You hear her friends in the rows surrounding you, a cacophony of her name crowed from all across the theatre.

Beautiful, beloved.

The syllables echo in your head.

You’re in the car, and you’re back there, wallflower in a rickety theatre seat, just another face in a sea of hundreds all gazing at the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen. Do you want to be her? Brilliant, bright and beautiful. Fearless and magnetic, and…everything. Or, you think, watching her blow a kiss to another girl in the crowd, is it her eyes on you that you long for?

You don’t know the answer, aching, squirming in your seat and wishing you’d never come at all. What is it about you, you wonder, what is the matter with you, deep-seated and unrelenting.

So close you could reach out and touch her, yet light years away.

Fingers brush your face and you blink, realising the car has stopped. You turn to your classmate, whose eyes are far more serious than they ever have been, a frown knitting the junction between his brows.

“You’re crying,” he murmurs.

You reach up and your fingers come away wet, water gathering on your fingertip.

“Oh,” you say, feeling your face grow warmer, mortified. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, turning in his seat to face you fully. A warm hand comes to cradle your face and you screw your nose up in an effort to compose yourself.

But the ballerina spins, and spins, and you see her frozen smile, pretty eyes unflinching under the spotlight. Water splashes onto Jason’s wrist and you hiccup, pressing your fingers to your mouth.

“Hey,” he whispers, thumb skimming beneath your eye. His touch leaves a trail of star bursts in its wake, blooming curls of heat igniting beneath your skin. A sob catches in your throat. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

You feel a little pathetic as you stare back at him, something wounded in your chest that feels to you as though it bleeds from you with every blink of your eyes.

“I don’t know,” you murmur, through stuttered breaths, shaking your head. He remains steady, palms cradling you.

“That’s okay,” he assures. “It’s okay. Can you take a breath for me?”

You frown through your tears. “I am.”

He smiles wryly. “Humour me. Deep breath, just one.”

You do, inhaling deeply, and exhaling. He nods with the rise and fall of your chest. ��That’s it. Take another one for me.”

He lets go of you to pick up the waterbottle in his cupholder, screwing open the lid and pressing it into your hands. The metal is cold, the water even colder and Jason is unfazed when you press your mouth to the lip of his bottle, a hand settling on the back of your neck comfortingly.

“You wanna talk about it?” Jason asks, when all that’s left of your tears are the stains on your cheeks, your eyelashes wet.

You look up and find his eyes on you, more green than blue in this light, watching, gauging. Don’t, you want to say, don’t look at me. What happens when you find something you don’t like?

“Not really,” you whisper. He doesn’t bat an eyelid, only nodding, like he’d expected as much. But he doesn’t withdraw, hand still on the back of your head like he might cuff a brother, so close your forehead risks bumping against his. You can smell the gum he’d been chewing on earlier, fading notes of spearmint in the air.

“That’s okay. We’ll stay here til you feel better,” he says easily. You take a breath in.

You stay.

Maybe one day, you think, looking at him. Maybe one day, the words will come easier to you. You think it may come sooner than you believe, if he continues to work his way through your defences, dismantling each brick so sweetly you believe it may not even be his hand they fall under, but yours.

For now, you sit in the car, forehead pressed to your new friend’s, and counting his breaths til yours match.

author's note: the other day i stood on the side of a street while waiting for my bus and there was a boy sitting in a restaurant across the street, eating by himself. and i don't know why, but it made me ache a little bit, as i'm prone to do in the spring. so much of life lately has been spent people watching, always sitting on the bus at dusk and watching the glow of homes lit pass by, orange and blue, orange of hearths and hallways and restaurants. it's one of my favourite times to go home, just as everything begins to darken, but it also feels a little sad.

i think there's a lot of longing in being the watcher, a lot of loneliness in being the one to keep the records, in a sense. because if you are the watcher, who sees you? even if it's all you know, and it's something you're comfortable in, sometimes it creeps in, and you're struck with that feeling of reverting to a child once again when you see large groups of friends and people sharing a meal and girls holding hands. always on the outside, always passing by, never the one in the window. jersey boy! reader is a love letter to those parts of myself, i think, just as daddy's money was. i'm sorry for rambling, but i hope this bit of seriousness gives you guys a bit more of our reader.

#jasonsmirrorball #jason todd x reader #jason todd reader insert #jason todd imagine #x reader #jason todd fanfiction #jay my heart #jersey boy au #jason todd college!au

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luveline · 2 years

Note

smutty sunday thing- what ab james accidentally making reader cry bc it feels so good (like good tears) but he doesn’t realise and he gets rlly concerned

SMUT 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI (cw p in v, tears, praise, r is overwhelmed but having a good time) ♡ fem!reader

You rub your face into the damp pillow underneath and try to breathe properly. James, his weight heavy above you, pauses to help you move your arms so you're resting on your elbows.

"Is that better?" he asks.

Afraid to use your voice and give away your current predicament, you nod voraciously, and are pleased as punch when he starts to move again.

You've never tried this position before and it's a real doozy. James presses down on you heavily, smushing you into the bedsheets with his legs between yours and encouraging your thighs that little bit wider as he thrusts in. The curve of his cock rubs up against something sweet for the hundredth time and you sniffle aloud, overwhelmed by pleasure.

Deep-seated, James stills. He works his hand under your cheek and turns your face gently to the side so you can see him in one eye. He doesn't look very happy.

He looks horrified.

"What's wrong?" he asks, a short fall from incredulous. "Sweetheart?"

He pulls out and you whine under your breath, panting as you say, "Don't stop, James."

"You're crying your eyes out."

You blink to discourage another round of tears, looking up at his figure blearily. His handsome features warped by worry, James takes the brunt of his weight off of your back and kneels beside you, leaning down so his face is level with yours.

"Was I hurting you?" he asks quietly, bringing his big hand to cup your face.

You move reluctantly out of position and onto your side, hips and chest aching and your cunt sorely missing his attention.

"It felt really good," you say.

He wipes at your tearstained face. "Then why are you crying? You can be honest with me."

"I am being honest," you sniff. You sound almost bratty, and you're kind of feeling it. Going from some of the best pleasure of your life to nothing so quickly is irritating, but you quickly tamp it down. It's not James' fault, he's just checking in. "I'm serious, Jamie, it's amazing. I didn't mean to start crying, it's just…" you turn your face into his hand as much as you can, his palm eager to receive you. "It's really nice to feel you pushing in on me."

He smiles. There's relief, bemusement, and a certain amorous twist to his words as he says, "You're fucking precious." He kisses your cheek, hands moving to rub the back of your neck. He pulls away just enough for you to see his eyes, his breath hot on your skin. "You like feeling all my weight on top, huh? Pinning you down, is that it?"

You hum. "Mh-hmm."

He presses a firm kiss to your lips. "I'm okay to do it again?" he asks.

"Yes, please."

He pushes your back so your chest is flat to the mattress again and eases himself on top. You can hear the wet sound of his hand tugging his cock, shivering when he finally pushes back into your heat. He makes a thoughtful sound, grinding down into you, the scratch of his slick-wet curls against your cunt setting you aflame. You whimper and lift your hips to force your hand between your legs, fingers searching for your swollen clit.

James pulls back and rocks in hard, his thighs slapping your thighs, the pleasure a dull ache that shoots up your abdomen. You mewl wetly, entirely wrecked.

He rolls his hips and drops his face into the back of your neck. "You'll tell me if it gets too much? Please?" he asks.

"Yes," you agree breathlessly.

He kisses the side of your throat slowly. "You're so fucking pretty, even covered in tears," he murmurs. "So pretty. You hear how wet you are, angel?" He pushes in slowly. "You're practically crying on my cock."

You laugh. A little surprised, a lot excited. "Please, James," you say, needing what you'd had before. The unrelenting pace, the crushing feeling.

Like he can read your mind he bears down on you and chuckles as well. "Anything you want," he promises.

"Want it harder," you whisper, flushed in heat.

"What was that? Can't hear you over your sniffling, babe." His amusement is unmissable.

There's your James – insufferable. He snaps his hips into you and you forget all about it.

#james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter imagine #james potter blurb #marauders era #marauders #marauder x reader #x reader #james potter smut

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javier-pena · 1 year

Text

mine

Pairing: Wolverine/Logan x f!reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You are ready for a cozy evening in front of the TV - until Logan discovers something about you.

Notes: So, I was (re)watching all the X-Men movies in a very confusing chronological order and I couldn't help but notice how many times people call Wolverine an animal. Paired with his apparently great sense of smell it made me want to write a breeding kink story because Wolverine deserves to be a dad and live a happy life. Big thanks, as ever, go to Dani @alexturner who forced me to do better with this than I had done.

***

The heat of the day is coating your neck in a sweaty sheen, a gust of warm evening air sends a cooling sensation down your spine. You straighten your back and stretch, relieving some of the tension that has been building while you were tidying up the cushions on the couch. The Canadian summer evening is still too warm for manual labor, but you want the house to look pretty for Logan.

For dinner, you’re preparing a salad and some homemade bread. All the fresh vegetables are cut and mixed, the bread is in the oven, slowly rising, a light brown crust stretching across the soft delicacy waiting inside. Now all that’s left to do is wait for your husband to get home from work. You spent all day preparing for this moment, running errands and fixing some minor things around the house. There is no special occasion justifying working through your list of chores other than wanting to spend a relaxing evening cuddled up on the couch, watching a dumb movie and sharing jokes. He deserves an evening of rest and relaxation.

Even though your senses have been on high alert for half an hour now, even though your hearing is focused on the sound of his truck tires outside of the house, your whole body brimming with anticipation, you don’t notice him coming in. But there is a presence behind you now. Something in the room is shifting; the air is thicker than before, everything is denser suddenly, and there is this tension, this strain, like a storm is about to break loose. You want to turn around and greet him, but before you get a chance, his strong, solid body is right behind you, so close you feel the warmth radiating off it. Even though he’s not touching you, you know you’re trapped, forced to stay close to the back of the couch, your gaze directed out the window opposite it, and at the mountain top you can see from here, bathed in that strange, everlasting summer glow.

Something is different tonight.

He touches you with a sudden urgency. His large hands cover your hips and part of your thighs as he pulls you back into him and you let him hold you while he towers above you. Nose buried in your neck, he breathes you in, the air tickling your warm skin. His grip is unrelenting, hard as steel – he makes it obvious that freeing yourself is not an option. But you don’t want to, not when he runs his lips over your shoulders, not when he pulls you even closer with a soft growl.

“I could smell you from halfway up the mountain,” he finally says, voice gravelly with want. And then he presses his clothed, hard length against your backside. “Did you wear a sundress on purpose? Did you leave the windows open on purpose? Admit it, you just wanted to distract me, lure me inside.”

You laugh airily, trying to downplay your confusion. “Logan, what are you talking about? How am I distracting you?”

He stops moving behind you and you can feel the tension rolling off him, you can feel how he’s holding back in the strain of his arms, in the way he gives you a tiny bit more space. Your breath catches in your throat, and you have to bite down on your bottom lip to keep from whimpering. Yes, something is definitely different tonight.

When he speaks again, his voice is so deep it sends a jolt of pleasure down your spine. “Gorgeous thing like you, completely oblivious …,” he whispers, making you hold your breath, “it’s a good thing you have me to take care of you, sweetheart.”

He pulls you back into his chest, nose nudging your jaw and neck. Before you can get lost in the sensation, he cups one of your breasts and squeezes tightly, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from you. And while he doesn’t allow you a single second to compose yourself, it dawns on you. It’s not easy to do the math when he’s all over you, but once you counted and recounted there can be no doubt. The rest of it isn’t important. You don’t care about the rest. Not when he’s pulling up the hem of your dress to grab handfuls of your ass. Not when he’s kneading it, pulling on the flesh, squeezing it. Not when he doesn’t stop until you both hear it – the lips of your pussy parting with a wet sound, and you grab the backrest of the couch to steady yourself. You know you’re adding fuel to the fire, but you can’t stop yourself from moaning his name, from trying to assure him you want this, from begging him to continue because you’re so wet for him all rational thought is impossible. Those few sounds are all he needs.

Those few sounds make him feral.

The next thing you hear is the sound of your dress tearing. He doesn’t care about ruining your clothes, not tonight, not when he’s guided by some ancient, animalistic instinct. Tightly wrapping the shreds around his hand and curling it into a fist, he presses it into your back to push you forward, make you lean over the backrest of the couch you just tidied up so nicely. Your breath comes in short bursts, somewhere between gulps and quiet moans, little pleas of anticipation. Another tear follows as he gets rid of your panties, pulls them off you and discards them carelessly. You’re starting to feel dizzy from how shallow you’re breathing, and you barely manage to remain standing, even though you have the couch to lean on. And then he unbuckles his belt.

You developed a Pavlovian response to that sound long ago, to the thick leather gliding through the hard metal holding it in place. But tonight, you don’t need it. Tonight, he already has you leaking in anticipation. You just close your eyes and wait for him, for the press of his thick length against your folds, for the way he will claim you with sure thrusts.

He makes you wait for it though, leaning down again, pressing his chest against your back, pushing you harder against the couch. The way he has trapped you now makes it impossible to escape. He breathes you in again, nose pressed against your neck. With his free hand, he lifts your hair, pulls on it to force you to expose more skin, holding it tightly wrapped around his fist once he’s satisfied. And then he bites down, hard, so fucking hard, that you know you’ll wake up a marked woman tomorrow. The feeling of his teeth digging into your soft flesh, the pain it brings you, makes you scream in surprise and need. You try to shift, to get just a tiny bit of friction against your clit because this is becoming unbearable. Your arousal is dripping down your thighs, and if he smelled what time of the month it is for you from outside the house, he’s definitely smelling that.

He pushes himself off you with a grunt and lets go of your hair. You barely have time to catch your breath before you feel his full, heavy cock press against your exposed ass. He runs it down to your soaked folds, teases you, gives you just enough to make your blood boil. And then he finally pushes inside of you, not slow and gentle like he usually does, but with one short, hard thrust that makes your fingers dig harder into the backrest of the couch as you hold on for dear life.

He gives you two more thrusts, almost experimentally, as if he’s trying to determine the right angle and the best amount of force to use, and once he’s satisfied, he grunts, “You’re taking me so well, sweetheart.” And then he lets go of the last bit of restraint that was still holding him back.

The couch beneath you shakes with his hard thrusts. It’s already too much, you feel on the verge of an orgasm, so you force yourself to focus on the way he feels inside of you, on how he’s stretching you open.

“I want to fill you.” It sounds like a promise.

He leans down again, which changes the angle slightly and makes you push yourself up on your tiptoes to accommodate him. Once more, he buries his teeth in your shoulder, worries the flesh between his teeth until tears shoot to your eyes.

“I’m going to make you take my cum over and over again until you’re swelling,” he growls right next to your ear, “until I can see it leak from your pretty cunt, until it takes.”

You struggle against him, but not to escape him. Pushing yourself back onto his cock until he’s buried to the hilt inside of you, you want to tell him how much you want this, but before you get a chance, he pushes himself back up. There is one tiny indulgence you allow yourself though, one glance across your shoulder at the man who has you in his grip, at your husband, the father of your future children. Your gaze lands on his eyes clouded over with feral lust, his flushed neck, his shirt stretched tightly over his chest, as he struggles to keep breathing.

“Please, I want it to take,” you whisper. “Please fuck me harder, please make sure it stays inside of me.”

You roll your hips forward then backward, letting your head fall down between your straining arms. Again and again, you push and push, desperately fucking yourself on his cock while he tries to match you. All that is audible between the two of you are the sounds of your shared desperation. And it’s not enough.

“Please fill me up,” you beg. “Please … I – I want to ride you afterwards.”

You’re not sure if it’s too much, if it goes beyond what he wants to do tonight. He lets go of your dress, but grabs your hip to still you, and for one wild moment you’re sure it was too much. It’s only the hard, frenzied way he starts to thrust into you over and over again that disabuses you. His other hand finds its way to your neck and closes around it, not hard, but definitely strong enough to keep you in your place.

“You’re going to look so fucking beautiful and full when it takes …” He’s out of breath now. “And don’t worry, it will take.” That thought alone, that image of your belly growing big with his child, makes your head spin. After a beat, he adds, “Everyone will know you belong to me.”

It immobilizes you. You let him fuck you like this, rough and fast, so hard every thrust pushes you into the couch and pushes the couch along the floor. He’s so strong, stronger than anyone you know, and you couldn’t wish for a better protector for you and the child he will give you. But then any thought, any feeling, any stirring at all is fucked out of your head and heart when he tightens his hold on you and his thrusts become frantic, animalistic. It feels like he doesn’t care if he breaks you, all he cares about is breeding you. Your pussy clenches tightly around his cock, fighting to keep him inside of you, and with that little bit of extra friction he comes, emptying himself with a low grunt.

You can feel his spend coating your walls, and that is what pushes you over the edge. You join him, whimpering desperately, clenching and clenching until he has given you every last drop. He pulls out roughly and you whimper more; the feeling of being used by him like this makes the edges of your ebbing orgasm flare up again. The sound you hear when he drops to his knees behind you is dull, the sound you hear when he pushes a hand between your legs is wet.

He gathers some of his spend leaking out of you on his fingers, then shoves them up between your legs roughly, trying to keep it all inside of you. You let him, even though you’re overstimulated, and every touch makes you push yourself away from his ministrations. He grips your hip again to hold you in place, pushes two fingers inside of you, and you whimper loudly, unable to escape the onslaught.

“Mine,” he growls, as he watches his fingers coated in your joint arousal disappear inside your swollen folds.

***

wolverine/logan taglist: @paintlavillered

#logan x reader #wolverine x reader #logan x you #wolverine x you #logan #wolverine #x men #fanfic #yes i did have a look at some sexy lumberjacks for this lmao

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