#Horny's retirement ceremony
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#Patric Hornqvist#Carl Hagelin#December 8 - 2023#Sunrise Florida#Horny's retirement ceremony#Pittsburgh Penguins#vs the Panthers
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This somehow has been bugging me, but don't you think it would have been better if the Belle ceremony started before the King retired or died? I mean, if Rhodolite doesn't have a King, which means it is in a very vulnerable state and everyone knows that if the Obisidian knew about this then they would immediately attack Rhodolite. Everyone knows how much of a threat Obsidian is. Keeping that in mind, it would have been much better if Emma was chosen the next Belle before the king died because after the King died, the next King (chosen by Emma) could immediately take the throne. So they won't be needing to lie or hide Emma from the other Kingdoms. I know someone's death is unpredictable, but they could have taken this precaution.
Some spoilers ahead!
Also another thing, (I feel like Ikepri fans are hating me right now because I couldn't stop nitpicking their fav game...but I can't help it! These questions are actually bugging me!)I hate the previous King. The previous King and Belle fell in love. But because Belle was a commoner, the Royal Court didn't accept their marriage. So their social status is the big villain here. On top of that Belle got pregnant and was banished from the Kingdom. The King became the fallen beast (lol) and had to marry a hotter woman a.k.a Chevalier's mom, and rule the Kingdom while being depressed (and horny at the same time). On top of that, he got, Leticia (my personal fav mom) pregnant for no reason? Why? They didn't make it clear at all and Chevalier's mom was okay with it? And it all happened before the King went crazy!? Whatever, that's not my question. My question is if social status was the villain, why didn't the King himself try to change that rule? I mean, he is the King, after all, the man with the highest power in the Kingdom. Can't he give a noble title to Belle? But the King was dumb and as a result of this, the 99th clause happened so that the 'tragedy' doesn't happen again. I mean, it certainly is a tragedy. Not only Belle and the King suffered, but along with them the mothers of other princes' have to suffer as well. I can understand the King is heartbroken, but that doesn't mean that he can go around sleeping with every woman he comes across in search of 'love'. He has a beautiful wife sitting at home, he could have just moved on and started fresh. You're MARRIED FOR GOD SAKE! DON'T RUIN YOUR SPOUSE'S LIFE JUST BECAUSE YOU ARE HEARTBROKEN!!!
I wish in the future, they release past stories about the former King, former Belle, and the stories about Queens cause I'm really interested in what actually happened. Actually, fuck it! I don't care about the King and Belle, at least give me a clear story about Chevalier and Clavis's moms.
The 99th clause was not clear at all. First of all, what the hell is this clause about? Is only Belle not allowed to marry the King because she's a commoner or no commoners are allowed to marry the King at all? Which is it? In Chevalier's route, if I remember correctly, he tells Sariel that he is taking Emma as his girlfriend and when Sariel tells him about the clause, Chevalier is like---"Well, the Belle ceremony is over and now Emma is not Belle anymore. So it's fair."
But I'm here like----"She's still a commoner!!!" What happened to the whole social status problem?
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skin, hands, ink, lavender
In which you meet Viktor and come to the humiliating realization that you would let him do the most horrible things to you. Also, you’re really into his hands.
viktor/gn!reader, 10k words, cw: 18+, themes of domination/submission and bondage, hand kink, either fingering or a handjob depending on the reader’s junk, kink based sensuality, dirty talk, praise, begging
dedicated with much warmth to my dearly beloved @taitbahs for matching my horrible simp energy so fervently and to the insanely talented @arcanescribbles because their art basically single handedly inspired this whole thing !! <3<3<3
this has been a work in progress for a while now and is essentially a culmination of all my horny feelings about viktor. originally it was gonna have four chapters but then i got overwhelmed and made it just one thing instead adgshfjgk, also i’ve never really written porn like this before ?? so fingers crossed it’s not terrible lmao anyway i sincerely hope you enjoy !!!! it’ll also be posted on my ao3 if you prefer to read it there :>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It started small, as most things do.
The first time you saw Viktor in person, it was at the opening ceremony for the upcoming semester. Piltover’s most esteemed academy didn’t welcome in new students every day, so whenever there happened to be an income of attendees, a celebratory banquet was thrown. It was an arrant thing; to you it always felt a bit egregious, a bit decorative, with everyone gathering in one of the usually empty ballrooms and mingling about aimlessly, sipping champagne and eating hors d'oeuvres until the dean cleared his throat into the mic, signaling that the ceremony was to begin in earnest. Normally you wouldn’t even attend– big crowds and awkward small talk weren’t exactly your favorite things– but you didn’t have anything else to do, and you were sort of bored that evening, and you’d heard that the food was supposed to be pretty good, so you figured you’d stop by for half an hour or so and eat a few fancy appetizers before you retired to your room.
You were munching on some sort of miniature quiche (the ingredients of which you couldn’t even begin to guess at) when the familiar voice of Councilor Heimerdinger sounded from the stage. He waited patiently for the chatter to quiet down, and then gave the room a broad smile before beginning his opening speech.
“Good evening, students! Thank you very much for attending our welcoming day ceremony for the new academic semester. As I’m sure you’re all aware, our beloved institute has been a beacon of scientific progress and achievement for almost as long as Piltover has been standing, and with a little luck it will continue to be so indefinitely. Perhaps it will even outlive me– though I must admit I do doubt that.”
Polite titters wafted up from the crowd. Heimerdinger chuckled a bit at his joke, and then continued.
“With that admittedly grand hope in mind, I’m very pleased to usher in yet another influx of bright young pupils to these most acclaimed and hallowed halls…”
Heimerdinger was a sweet man– you’d heard nothing but good things about him from your peers and his contributions to the city you all called home were nothing short of incredible, but gods, did his speeches run on. You settled yourself down in a chair by the far wall of the ballroom and focused on consuming as many miniature quiches as possible. Your thoughts wandered as you chewed, and you quickly found yourself admiring a luscious bouquet that decorated a pillar near the stage. The petals were a deep, delicate purple color, effervescent against the whiteness of the marble walls. You passively wondered what type of flowers they were– maybe some sort of carnation?– and where you could find them, and if you would be allowed to plant them in the box on your dorm room’s windowsill.
“.... But enough pontificating. I’m sure you’re all eager for me to get to the point, hm? Well, I won’t dawdle any longer. Let’s welcome our newest additions to the stage and get on with the ceremony. Ah, Viktor, would you mind..?”
You blinked and forced your gaze away from the flowers, looking up just in time to watch a tall brunet make his way over to Heimerdinger’s podium and hand him a long scroll, tied with a deep white and gold ribbon– the academy’s colors. Turning to retreat to the back of the stage, he gave the crowd a glance, his expression one of vague discomfort as he took in the numerous faces staring back at him. His eyes swept your way and then–
Oh…… He’s beautiful.
It was an almost subconscious notion, flitting in and out of your mind in a blink, but the moment you thought it, you knew it was true. The light of the ballroom’s ornate chandelier cast a honey-colored hue over his frame, tinging the ends of his chestnut hair. Your gaze met his for a fraction of a second before he looked away– and suddenly you desperately wished you weren’t currently holding a handful of miniature quiches.
You’d known about Viktor long before ever meeting him– something you were certain you would never do, as the two of you were from such drastically different realms, such completely separate worlds. He was the Dean’s assistant, respected and admired by all, and you… you were just a nervous astronomy student. You weren’t particularly exceptional in any real way, you hadn’t contributed anything extraordinary or dedicated yourself to some sort of noble cause; by all accounts you just really liked stars. Most days you could barely even comprehend why you’d been accepted into the academy in the first place, but your mother had taught you all your life to be grateful for what few opportunities you received, so you weren’t going to complain. No, you and Viktor were never going to meet. He was too far away from you for that.
But in that small moment, when his eyes met yours, you were filled with a quiet, desperate longing to be close. Close enough to see the flecks of dark auburn in his eyes, to count his delicate eyelashes. Close enough to be touched by him.
What a disgustingly saccharine thought.
You grabbed a napkin-full of miscellaneous hors d'oeuvres on your way out and spent the rest of the evening in the observatory, editing star charts and trying not to think about how much the color of Viktor’s irises resembled precious metal.
Three whole months passed before you saw Viktor again. Though there had been assemblies and banquets– the academy seemed to really enjoy throwing lavish parties– which would have allowed the two of you to be in each other’s presence, you couldn’t risk making eye contact with him while holding miniature quiches again, so you opted to skip the gatherings. Most of your time was spent in the observatory, working on your research into constellation patterns, or in your room, admiring the mauve carnations you’d planted in your window box (turns out, you’d been right about the flowers in that bouquet). Every so often you would hear his name in passing in the halls, usually someone discussing his newest accolades, and your stomach would flip so viciously you’d need a moment to catch your breath.
You felt silly. You’d locked eyes once. Honestly, it was like you were a little kid with a crush on their school teacher.
This is ridiculous, you thought. I’ve never even had a conversation with the guy. I’ve never even been in the same room as him for more than fifteen minutes! Besides, in a school this gigantic, what’re the odds we’d even run into each other again? It’s better if I just forget about it.
Not even a full day after you’d resolved yourself to this, Viktor tapped you on the shoulder in the library.
“Pardon– sorry to interrupt, but I was curious about that book you’re reading.”
He nodded to the hefty tome in your lap, his tone polite and casual. You stared at him. After a moment of silence that dragged on for just a bit too long, he tilted his head at you, squinting slightly.
“Are you alright? You look, ehm, taken aback.”
You swallowed hard, the back of your throat coated in shock and sand. Your brain was having a hard time catching up to what was happening. You looked from Viktor’s vaguely confused expression, down to the textbook resting on your thighs, then back up again, and all at once reality seemed to crash into you, the world speeding up in a single second. Letting out a quiet noise of surprise, you scrambled to respond.
“Um– no, I’m fine,” you stammered. “What– sorry, what was your question?”
He gestured once again to your reading material, shifting the majority of his weight onto his cane so that his hand was free. Your eyes locked onto the movement. “That book. I’ve been interested in it for a while. It’s not a scientific text, is it?”
“Oh, uh, no. It’s not. I mean, not– not technically, I suppose.” You nervously rubbed the corner of the page you were on between your thumb and forefinger. “One could argue that it is, but I’ve been told that’s… a controversial subject.”
“I presume that’s because it discusses the connections between science and magic, yes?”
“Mm-hm. Um, astronomical entity theory, to be exact.”
Viktor quirked an eyebrow, looking mildly impressed. “Astronomical entity theory? I must admit I’m not particularly familiar. Are you a theoretical science student?”
“Astronomy, actually. But my independent study is based on parts of that theory, so, well...” You held the book up in order to show its cover. “Book,” you finished lamely. Viktor didn’t seem to notice your nervousness– or if he did, he paid it no mind. He laughed, soft and airy, and the sound made your heart shudder in your chest.
“And this, ah, independent study–” he motioned vaguely with one hand as he spoke– “May I inquire as to what you’re researching?”
You hesitated; you didn’t think your measly research project would be of much interest to someone who was one half of the duo that created Hextech, but the golden-eyed man in front of you had a look of such genuine earnestness on his face that you couldn’t bring yourself to refuse.
“Ah, well–” You tilted the textbook slightly so that the pages were visible and pointed to the chart you’d been looking at before Viktor showed up. “It’s nothing too exciting, but I’m studying star configurations, and there’s a theory that mages used constellations in order to… harness their power, to put it simply? It’s pretty well-known that magic is a natural force, but a lot of people just assume that it only exists in the terrestrial realm. Astronomical entity theory is the idea that not only can magic also be pulled from space, but that it actually might originate from it, with the stars and planets acting as these sort of generators, and that maybe ancient magic-users found a way to take that magical energy and imbue it into the world around them, and…” Your cheeks flushed as you realized you’d been talking for much longer than you’d anticipated. “Well, the theory gets a little odd after that, talking about ancient celestial monsters and whatnot. All sorts of crazy things. I’m mainly focusing on the mathematical side of it. Gods, I didn’t mean to start rambling, I’m– I’m sorry–”
Before you’d even gotten through your apology, Viktor was waving a graceful hand at you, as though to dismiss the very notion. “Do not be sorry. I asked, did I not?”
“I…” You blinked, feeling flustered. “I suppose you did...”
“Shame on me were I ever to interrupt someone speaking on something they are passionate about,” he continued, flashing you a small grin that had your insides doing cartwheels. You attempted to return it as confidently as possible, but your face wasn’t quite cooperating with you, so you settled for a slightly awkward, albeit thankful smile. With that, Viktor straightened up– reminding you quite suddenly of how much he absolutely towered over you– and glanced at the clock on the wall, his eyes widening as he read the time it displayed.
“It’s that late already? Дерьмо, I was supposed to be back at the labs by now...” He murmured something under his breath that you couldn’t quite catch and tutted to himself before giving you another polite nod. “Thank you for letting me interrupt you, and for telling me about that book. I’ll, ah, leave you to your studies.”
You managed a weak “have a nice day” in response, your brain effectively reduced to mush, but as Viktor turned to walk away, he paused and looked back over his shoulder, meeting your gaze one more time.
“Apologies for my abruptness, but… could I get your name?”
You had never struggled with telling people your name before, but for some reason, giving it to Viktor was one of the most nerve-wracking things you’d ever done, and you had to push your way through a false start before you managed to spit it out fully. He echoed it back to you, as though testing the sound out on his tongue.
“I see.” He smiled at you. His eyes glowed in the dim light. “I’m Viktor. I hope to see you again.”
And then he was gone.
For a good hour after that, you could barely think straight– hell, you could barely think at all. You opened and closed your book, turned the page just to turn it back again, and stared unseeingly at the same four star charts until your eyesight went fuzzy. Every time you blinked, you saw Viktor’s subtly lopsided grin branded on the back of your eyelids, and like a record on an unending loop, those six simple words turned over and over again in your mind.
I hope to see you again. I hope to see you again. I hope to see you again.
You didn’t get much work done that night. You sat in the library until the sun had fully set and the halls had grown silent, thinking about how Viktor had a beauty mark right above his lip, and wondering how it would feel to press your mouth against it.
You wanted to see him again so, so badly.
Fortunately, it seemed fate– or chance, or perhaps just pure dumb luck– was decidedly on your side when it came to accidental meetings with the man of your affections, because you bumped into him again not even a week later. This time, it was early in the morning. You were making your way to your first lecture and just as you were passing by the door to Councilor Heimerdinger’s office, Viktor stepped out, carrying an armful of heavy-looking notebooks and appearing a bit frazzled.
“Excuse me– oh.” He blinked, his face lighting up in recognition. “Oh, it’s you! From the, eh, from the library. Good morning.”
You quickly shook off the initial surprise of almost running right into him and focused on not letting your voice shake, giving him what you hoped was a semi-casual smile. “Good morning to you too. It’s nice to see you again. Um…” You glanced down at his stack of notebooks. “Would you like help with that? It just seems like a lot to carry.”
“Ah, yes, it is a bit much, but– are you not heading somewhere? I wouldn’t want to make you go out of your way.”
“Oh, no, it’s fine!” you said quickly. “Honest! My class doesn’t start for another thirty minutes. I’d be happy to help."
Viktor studied you for a few seconds, seemingly mulling something over in his head, before that familiar half-moon smile spread once more across his face. “Well, then, I appreciate it. I’m just heading back to my lab, it’s not too far.”
You took a few of the notebooks from him and together you walked side by side through the halls, the quiet of the early morning interrupted only by the sound of your shoes against the tile and the polite conversation you made as you went. He asked you how your research into astronomical entity theory was going, and you gave him a general run-down of the progress you’d made since your initial meeting (neglecting to mention the long stretches of time you wasted daydreaming about kissing his beauty mark, of course). He listened with keen interest, his small grin growing as you spoke. He was so close to you. You noticed he had a second beauty mark, right underneath his eye.
The two of you reached the lab far more quickly than felt fair. You insisted on helping him put his things down despite his gentle protests. Though you attempted to convince yourself that it was mere politeness that moved you to do so, deep down you knew the achingly humiliating truth: you just wanted to prolong your time with him. Even if only by a moment.
When finally you knew you could stall no longer and you resolved yourself to take your leave, Viktor called your name just as you were about to walk back out into the hall.
“I was just thinking,” he said, once you’d turned back to look at him. “We should really sit down and discuss your research at a greater length. I have some, ah… notes, you could say, that I would love to hear your thoughts on. If you’d be open to something like that, of course.”
You practically tripped over yourself in your haste to say yes, yes, absolutely, you’d love that, to ask what days worked for him, what time he was usually free, to confirm that you were also free at those times, so maybe this weekend? Sometime after lunch? Or during lunch, maybe? Yes, lunch would work just fine. Lunch would be perfect.
Viktor nodded, his smile warm like melted butter and gentle as a breeze. “Then I suppose I’ll see you for lunch. Oh– and bring that book you were reading the other day, yeah?”
That was how it started.
Small, almost inconsequential; interactions dictated by soft touches, softer words, and half-moon smiles like silver bullets to your chest, and though you bled, you bled deliciously, the sensation ambrosial. It was embarrassing to admit, even only to yourself, but after that evening in the library, you knew without a doubt–
You would bleed for the rest of your life if it meant Viktor would tend to your wounds.
Meeting for lunch to discuss your research appeared to be gasoline on what was quickly becoming a wildfire. Viktor invited you to have lunch again the next day, and then again the next week, and then again the week after that. You quickly ran out of new things to tell him about the project– as intense as your passion was, the process was unfortunately slow-going– and you worried that Viktor would grow bored of you without the academic icebreaker that was your independent study, but it seemed your anxieties were ill-founded, because he simply waved your apology aside and asked if you’d like to watch him and his partner work on the blueprints for a new Hextech-based technology. You happily (almost a bit too happily) accepted. It was at this point that you felt comfortable enough to call Viktor a friend, albeit a casual one.
Your relationship with the golden-eyed scientist was slow-going, gradual, and it took you several lunches, study sessions, and noncommittal meetings before Viktor invited you to spend time with him outside of a vaguely academic setting. It was even longer before you felt comfortable enough to drop by the lab unprompted. You knew that he was a dedicated man, you knew his work always took priority, so you felt an exponential need to make sure your presence was never a bother, never any sort of inconvenience. Perhaps it was childish, but a part of you desperately wanted to be of use to him.
(You could think of quite a few…. other ways you’d like to be of use to him, but that was neither here nor there.)
So, you took to bringing him things. At first you framed it lackadaisical– the woman at the cafeteria gave you too many scones, or the little cafe down the road had messed up your order and you’d ended up with an extra coffee. You neglected to mention that the pastry bar in the cafeteria was a buffet where students served themselves and that you didn’t even really like coffee, but Viktor never questioned your intentions, only accepted the gifts with polite thanks and his signature half-moon smile. Slowly but surely you worked up the courage to bring him things “on purpose”. You found out he was rather fond of sweet milk, and thus you spent multiple afternoons teaching yourself how to make the perfect cup. When it was late and you knew he would still be up in his lab ignoring everything but his work, you’d bring him something simple and warm to make sure he ate. And on restless nights when the hours ran long and lonely and he refused to leave his desk, you sat in a chair in the corner, reading quietly, the only noise being the scratch of pen against paper until finally Viktor drifted off, hunched over notes and textbooks and sleep-deprived scribblings. You’d get up and gently shake his shoulder until eventually he roused enough to move to the couch. And then you would leave.
You and Viktor were friends, certainly– but you didn’t think you could hide the way you truly felt if you were alone with him all night.
Still, it was clear that Viktor was becoming more comfortable around you. You spent almost every free evening in the lab, listening to him talk about concepts you could barely wrap your head around in that enthralling, anesthetic voice of his, watching his hands move as he rambled. Staring at his calloused palms, his elegant fingers. Wishing those fingers were entangled with your own, or buried in your hair, or digging into your thighs, hard enough to leave plum-colored bruises, hard enough to break the skin…
You were shaken out of your fantasies by Viktor saying your name. He’d been standing at the blackboard, hemming and hawing over an equation he was attempting to crack, and you flushed as you realized he’d been trying to get your attention for a good thirty seconds.
“Ah– oh, um, sorry, what’d you say?”
Viktor raised an eyebrow at you, turning away from his work to peer towards where you were sitting. He shifted to rest one hand against his folded upper arm, and you felt yourself track the motion almost subconsciously.
“You’re awfully distracted this afternoon. I’m not boring you, am I?”
“What? No, no, not at all!” You shook your head quickly, attempting to look more alert. “I’m just a bit, um… it’s nothing, honest. I’m not sure what’s up with me today.. I’m probably just tired.”
The raised eyebrow raised even more. You tried your best to smile at him convincingly, though your insides squirmed and your face still felt uncomfortably hot. Finally, Viktor’s expression softened.
“Not that I, eh, don’t believe you, but… you know you can tell me if I am boring you, no?” he joked. “I promise I won’t be too offended.”
You laughed. Your voice shook, partly from relief and partly from nerves. “Thanks. But I swear, Viktor, I’m not bored. Cross my heart! You were, um, in the middle of explaining this problem you’re working on, right?”
Viktor’s eyes lit up and he rapidly returned to pouring over the numbers on the blackboard, the subject effectively avoided, and you breathed a silent sigh of relief. In your lap, you gripped the fabric of your shirt in an attempt to stop your hands from shaking.
The rest of the evening went without incident, but that night, you dreamt of oil-painting skin. You woke up sweaty and gasping, your fingers curled into your bedsheets, searching for the warmth of a body that wasn’t there, and in the haze of lust and yearning and desperation for release, you reached under the covers to finish what your fading subconscious had started.
You couldn’t quite look Viktor in the face for a few days after that. Every time he made eye contact with you, your legs would shake. Every time his hands entered your line of sight, or drifted close, or pressed briefly against your shoulders as he moved past you, a blossom of heat would erupt in your stomach.
Ignore it, you thought, again and again, day after day. You’ll scare him off. It took you so long to get here, don’t ruin it just because you’re horny and desperate and he’s incredible. Just ignore it. It’ll go away. It’ll go away. It’ll go away.
It did not go away. It got exponentially worse.
Every moment you spent around him was wonderful agony. Though Viktor was gorgeous from afar, he was positively hallowed up-close– being so near to him felt borderline sacrilegious, and what most certainly didn’t help was the fact that he actively seemed to enjoy being near you. It wasn’t obvious; Viktor was, amongst other things, a very subtle man, and thus how he chose to express affection was just as indirect, though not hidden. He made it clear that every smile, every touch, every breach of personal space was deliberate, through the way he met your eyes with purpose, his irises so bright, and so golden. It stole your breath from you every time.
You could deal with this. You’d had crushes before; perhaps this one was stronger than the others but that was nothing you couldn’t handle, and it certainly wasn’t worth risking your relationship with him. You shoved your feelings to the pit of your stomach and hoped they would rot away. When you were with him, you forced yourself not to stare at his hands. And when you were alone, in the darkness of your room, you made yourself come to the thought of him choking you out on the desk. It was a shameful routine, but you got used to it.
And then, one night, everything shifted.
You weren’t sure what made that particular night different. By all accounts, it was exactly like the countless others you’d spent reading in the corner of the lab as Viktor poured tirelessly over his notes, erasing and writing and then erasing again. The room was silent as usual, nothing but the gentle thrumming of rain against the academy’s roof breaking its quiet atmosphere. You slowly worked your way through the textbook you were reading, attempting to focus but, as you so often did, finding it difficult to stop your mind– and your eyes– from wandering. Every few minutes you stole a glance at the golden-eyed man sitting mere yards away from you, your gaze continuously drifting down to the pen in his hand, his long, elegant fingers waltzing gracefully across parchment. When finally you noticed you were beginning to stare and went to return to your reading, you looked up and realized with a start that Viktor was looking back.
“You haven’t turned a page in over five minutes,” he said, cocking his head to the side and giving you a bemused smile. “Is everything alright?”
Shit, he noticed me staring at him! You felt your face grow warm, and you hurried to reply. “Oh, yes, everything’s fine! Sorry, I was just.. thinking.”
“What were you thinking about?”
“Um–” You. Your hands. Your hands on my body, or between my legs, or around my throat. “Just, um, my independent study. I haven’t been making much progress lately and it’s a tad frustrating, I suppose.”
Viktor hummed, his eyes sympathetic. “Ah. I understand. I’ve run into an intellectual roadblock myself, so to speak.” He gestured to the notes he’d been editing and shook his head, his brow scrunching with disgruntlement. “These damned blueprints should be perfectly accurate, and yet all of our beta tests have ended in failure. I’m missing something obvious, I just know it…”
He fell silent again, glaring down at the paper. You felt a pang of worry as you looked at him, taking in the tightness of his jaw, the faded exhaustion under his eyes.
“Maybe… a break would help?” You faltered a bit when he glanced back up at you sharply, but continued on. “Just a short one, to give your mind a rest. I was thinking of making tea. I could make you a cup, too.”
There was a pause as Viktor hesitated, pondering the offer. He looked from his work to your hopeful expression and back again, and for a moment you were almost certain he was going to refuse, but then he met your eyes once more, slowly setting his pen down on the table.
“Would you, eh, be willing to switch that tea with sweet milk?” His expression turned slightly sheepish, almost shy. “I am… rather fond of how you make it.”
Your insides grew warm and fluttery at the compliment, and you beamed at him, unable to hide your elation as you placed your book aside and stood. “Of course. I’d be happy to, Viktor.”
Ten minutes later, you reentered the lab carrying two steaming mugs, rose tea with honey in one and warm sweet milk in the other. Viktor took the drink from you with reverence, his face lighting up like a sunrise.
“Спасибо, солнце,” he said softly, giving you a grateful smile before eagerly bringing the cup to his mouth and taking a long sip, his shoulders dipping as he did. You smiled back and sat down in the empty chair across from him.
“What’s that word?” you asked after he’d set the drink down on the desk and shifted his attention back to you. He furrowed his brow slightly, supposedly unsure as to what you were referring to, so you clarified. “That word. Um, ‘солнце’, I think it was? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you use it before.”
Viktor blinked at you, processing your question, and then suddenly his eyes grew wide. Perhaps it was just a trick of the light, but it almost looked as if he was… blushing.
“Oh. Oh, er, that’s–” The brunet cleared his throat, his demeanor uncharacteristically nervous. “Ah, it’s just a word from my native tongue. Nothing too, eh, interesting.”
“Oh! That’s neat. What does it mean?”
It wasn’t a trick of the light. Viktor was definitely blushing. He reached up to scratch at the side of his face, his eyes jumping to and from your own. “Well, translated literally, it means ‘sun’.”
“‘Sun’?” You tilted your head. “Like, sun as in sunlight?”
“Yes. It’s, ehm…” He steeled himself, as though bracing for your reaction. “It’s a term of… Of endearment. Like– like a pet name, I suppose.”
Silence. You stared at him. Viktor, interpreting your lack of response to be negative, grimaced, running a hand through his hair.
“I’m– I’m sorry, I should have known that would be…” He cursed. “Пошло все к черту… I apologize, it’s clear that I’ve overstepped. I truly did not mean to make you uncomfortable, I promise I won’t call you that again–”
“No!”
Your voice came out much louder, much more frantic, than you’d intended, and you winced, quickly lowering your volume. “I– I mean, no, you didn’t make me uncomfortable. Really, you didn’t! I was just surprised, I… I didn’t think you were the… the type to use, um…” Your cheeks flushed hot. “.... Pet names.”
“Yes, well…” Viktor twisted his fingers together in his lap. “I did not think I was, either, but…”
He stopped, hesitating, the look on his face unsure, almost nervous– as if he’d been testing the waters and wasn’t certain how much more weight he could apply before something cracked. Your heart hammered, its erratic beat pounding in your eardrums, every atom in your body vibrating, and you waited, breathless, for him to continue. Finally, he met your eyes.
“I did not think I was, either,” he repeated. “Until I met you.”
The ground seemed to fade from under you. You couldn’t look away from him, your gazes interlocked. You felt as though your blood was burning. Your mouth opened and the words spilled out like rain, like a flooding river, like a waterfall.
“I love you.”
Viktor’s jaw dropped in surprise. “What–”
“I love you,” you repeated, almost fervent in the way you looked at him, the way you pressed yourself closer in order to emphasize what you were attempting to express. “I have for ages, you– you’re the most brilliant, most wonderful person I’ve ever known. Ever since that night in the library– no, ever since I first saw you, I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind.” You paused to take a breath, your speech so urgent that it bordered on mania. “Every day I wake up and I think of when I can see you, what I can do to be of use to you. The fact that you allow me to be around you in the first place is– is a blessing–”
“Oh, oh, любимый–” Viktor reached out and grabbed your hands, cutting you off, his eyes wide and deep as an ocean trench, bright as a golden flame. “I– I don’t ’allow you’ to be around me, I treasure your company, your input, your– your very presence, I… Is– is this..? Are you….” His voice wavered with emotion. “Are you confessing to me?”
You looked down at your entwined hands, then back up at him, your expression terrified, vulnerable, and so, so, so hopeful. “If I was, what would you say?”
Viktor paused, and then, in a single movement, he leaned forward and kissed you.
It had been a long time since you’d been kissed, so long that you could barely remember the sensation, the tangibility of it. What did lips feel like when they were pressed against your own? What did hands feel like when they were curled against your shirt? Sometimes, late at night, you would trace those lips of yours with shaking fingers, attempting to recall faded memories of clumsy mouths and heated gasps and imagining, fantasizing, that the person from those memories was actually a familiar face, and that he was there with you, pushing you down into your mattress, gazing at you with those molten metal eyes.
None of your fantasies held a candle to how this felt.
There was no heat behind it, no lust or desperation, only a deep, quiet, aching need; a gentle yearning. Viktor merely kept his lips on yours, not moving, simply allowing your mouths to meld into one another, until finally you couldn’t wait any longer and you let go of his hands in order to grab onto his upper arms, or his shoulders, or the lapels of his vest, or anything, anything at all that would allow you to touch more of him. You felt him sigh against you, felt his warmth against your face, and you melted; he tilted his head, bringing you ever closer, your chins bumping slightly. You closed your eyes so that everything around you drifted away and the only thing that existed was him. Your hands left his lapels to travel upwards until they met his cheeks. Delicately, as though afraid he would hurt you, you felt his fingers curl into your hair.
When finally, finally, finally you parted, neither of you spoke for a long moment, your eyes slowly fluttering open in tandem as you both attempted to catch your breath.
“Was that answer enough?” Viktor asked, practically murmuring the question into your skin. “Or would you prefer I say it out loud, as well?”
You barked out a shaky laugh, short and sudden, the sound bordering on abrasive in the quiet of the lab. In lieu of responding, you cupped his face in your hands and pressed yourself as near to him as you could manage, the tip of your nose in the crook of his, breath ghosting over shaky breath. You wished for time itself to grind to a halt, if only to prolong this sacred moment.
“Солнце,” Viktor sighed. “Солнце.”
He said his chosen nickname for you once, twice, like a prayer, like the ravings of a mad man, like a desperate plea. You could feel the wisps of his eyelashes against your temple.
“Viktor,” you exhaled in reply; reverent, worshiping. “Viktor, you are– you– you’re–”
“What? Солнце, what is it?”
“Everything.” It came out as a gasp. “You’re everything. Everything in the entire world, you’re– oh, gods, if I could– I can’t believe I get to– to look at you, to hear you speak, to– to touch you–”
“You can do whatever you want,” he said. His hand moved from the back of your head to your cheek. When he swept his thumb over your cheekbone, you had to choke back a sob. “Anything you want. Oh, солнце, you are brilliant, you are– you are so warm– so good–”
A muted sound escaped you, high and wanton. Embarrassment burned in your chest, but you paid it no mind– instead you wrapped your arms around him, as though if you just held him tight enough, you could disappear within him entirely. He smelled like ink and lavender. His skin was so soft beneath your fingertips. Before you knew it, the words you swore you would never voice out loud spilled from your lips like holy nectar, forbidden and intoxicating.
“I would let you do such horrible things to me.”
Viktor stilled. His fingers, still placed gently on your cheek, twitched, the movement so slight you could almost convince yourself you’d imagined it.
“.. What?”
You flinched, cold, icy regret washing over you, and you brought your eyes up quickly to scan his unreadable expression. “I– I mean– oh, gods, I’m sorry, that was weird, that was– that was a weird thing to say, just– oh, fuck, just forget I even said that, I–”
Suddenly, Viktor tightened his hold on the side of your face, his thumb moving down to brace against your chin, gently but firmly forcing you to meet his gaze head-on. You were centimeters apart, so close you could see the flecks of dark auburn in his irises.
“Солнце,” he said softly, the emotion in his voice all-consuming. “Don’t apologize. Please.”
You swallowed. Your skin was prickling with something unidentifiable. “… Okay. I.. I won’t.”
“Good,” Viktor murmured, letting go of your face and moving his hand down to your arm. You suppressed a shiver. “Now…” His tone dipped, low and hot and burning, and his lip turned upwards. “What sort of horrible things?”
The world seemed to skip like a scratched record. You heard his question– certainly, you did, how could you not?– but you couldn’t comprehend it, couldn’t catch up to what he was asking. You stared at him, wide-eyed and flushed, trying to force your frantic thoughts into some semblance of clarity. “I– I– what?”
“What sort of horrible things?” he repeated, his voice just as low, just as burning, but still brimming with gentle affection. He gazed at you patiently through half-lidded eyes. “Tell me. I want to know.”
“Y–You….” The words came out strangled. “You… you do?”
“Yes,” Viktor said. He leaned forward so that your noses bumped slightly. “After all, how am I to know what to do to you if you do not tell me what you want, солнышко?”
You felt your breath leave you. You couldn’t quite find your voice, as if it had died in the back of your throat, crumbled to dust just behind your teeth. You stayed quiet, your mind swirling with unspoken words, unsaid desires. After almost a minute of silence, you opened your mouth.
“I want–”
You paused. Swallowed, took a breath. Your heart was beating so hard you feared it may just stop altogether. You didn’t know how Viktor was so collected, so straightforward, when he was asking you to say such embarrassing things. His calm expression made you want to squirm.
You tried again.
“I want you to… pull my hair.”
Viktor’s expression didn’t change, though his eyes seemed to flash. Slowly, he lifted his hand from where it was resting on your forearm, the action deliberate and intense. Fingers traced across your cheekbone, over the shell of your ear, and finally back to the nape of your neck to tangle once more in your hair.
“And how, precisely, do you want me to pull your hair?”
The word came out as a whimper.
“Hard.”
The golden-eyed man paused for a moment, for a single second, before suddenly his grip tightened and he tugged. The force yanked your head back in a way that bared your throat and you almost cried out, your entire body instantly being filled with an innate feeling of vulnerability.
“What else?” He spoke against the hollow of your throat, his mouth angled there so that his lips just barely grazed the sensitive skin. “What other horrible things do you want me to do to you?”
The noise you made then was a shambled mix of a whine and a sob, and part of you wished desperately that you could bury your face in Viktor’s shoulder so he wouldn’t be able to see the desperate flush branding your cheeks, but at the same time, all you wanted in the entire world was for him to never, ever take his fingers away from your hair. You squeezed your eyes shut.
“I– I want you to– to–”
“Yes?” Breathy, teasing. He was enjoying this. You felt as though you were going to dissolve in his hands. When the warmth of his tongue hit the underside of your jaw, you couldn’t hold it in any longer– you gasped out the thought that’d been boiling in your mind.
“I want you to fuck my mouth with your fingers!”
A pause, and then Viktor slid his hand down to your shoulder, pulling away from you just slightly. Instantly, panic swarmed you; he’d had been playing along thus far, but maybe that was too much? You jumped to apologize, to backtrack, to brush it off as a joke– and then you felt the cool touch of fingertips against your collarbone.
“You know…” Viktor’s eyes were hooded as he traced shapes into your clavicle, the motions soft and gentle enough to leave goosebumps in their wake. “I have been wondering about that.”
“About– about w–what?” You were having a hard time focusing on anything other than his touch on your skin, but Viktor’s voice had grown light in the way that it often did when he was curious, and so you forced yourself to meet his gaze earnestly– a task that proved to be difficult once his fingers traveled higher.
“About your, eh.. how should I phrase it? Fascination with my… hands.”
Your eyes widened. “You– you–“ You tripped over your words, voice cracking with embarrassment. “How long have you– how long have you known that I…?”
He flashed you that small, half-moon smile of his. “Well… you’re not very subtle, солнце.”
You groaned and leaned over to rest your forehead against his chest, hiding your expression. “This is humiliating.”
Viktor laughed. It was bright and warm, the kind of laugh angels would be envious of, and even in your flustered state, you couldn’t help but smile at the sound of it, couldn’t help but laugh along a little in spite of yourself.
“To be fair to you, I am very observant,” Viktor said good-naturedly, running a soothing hand down your back. “Even if you were any good at hiding it, I most likely would have found out eventually. Though admittedly it did help that you are not any good at hiding it.”
“Oh, thanks, that makes me feel better,” you grumbled into the fabric of his vest, though you had to fight back a grin. Your mock-gratitude earned you another chuckle.
“My apologies,” he replied, not sounding very apologetic in the slightest. “Now come on, солнышко, don’t pout. Show me your face. There’s no need to hide.”
“I would argue that there most certainly is,” you muttered to yourself, but complied regardless, reluctantly raising your head to meet Viktor’s gaze. He smiled at you.
“There you go. Very good, умняшка.”
Your cheeks flushed hot once more and you averted your eyes. “You’re– you’re teasing me.”
“I’m not. I’m praising you. There’s a difference.”
“Is there?” you replied weakly.
Viktor moved his hand back to your neck, trailing his fingers gently up your throat. “I believe there is. For example, if I wanted to tease you, I could simply make it so that you couldn’t hide your face from me. Perhaps by restricting the use of your hands. Perhaps, even, by restricting your movement entirely.”
You gasped as he suddenly took hold of your face again, gripping the underside of your chin tightly and forcibly tilting your head forward so that you had no choice but to look at him. For the first time since your kiss, you realized that his expression had changed.
He was looking at you as though you were one of his experiments, as though you were a fascinating specimen, something unique and mystifying that he longed to understand, longed to dissect and then put back together again. As though he was just barely holding himself back from taking you apart completely.
“But I won’t do that,” he breathed. “Though I’m sure you’d let me. No. You’ve been good, so I don’t want to tease you. I want to reward you.”
He pulled you closer, so close that if you wanted to, you could kiss the beauty mark on his upper lip, just like you had been daydreaming about all those months ago.
“Would you like that, солнышко? Hm? Would you like me to reward you, and fuck your mouth with my fingers?”
Before you even registered yourself doing so, you were nodding. “Yes,” you gasped, practically begging, though you were too far gone to care. “Yes, yes, I’d like that very much.”
Viktor let go of your chin, so quickly you had to physically stop your head from dropping down and bonking him on the nose, and sat back, raising his hand up to your face.
“Go ahead,” he said simply.
You swallowed. Shakily, you took his hand in your own, lifted it close, and pressed your mouth to the middle of his palm in a gentle kiss. Viktor took a sharp intake of breath through his nose but stayed still, merely observing you. For a moment you let your lips linger there, before parting them slightly, your tongue darting out to taste the coolness of his skin. You kissed across his palm lines, traveling slowly up to his fingers. When you got to his fingertips, you paused, looking up at him through your eyelashes in a silent request.
“Can.. can I please, um…”
Viktor nodded, his gaze filled with something unidentifiable.
You breathed out, mumbling an embarrassingly desperate ‘thank you’, before tilting your head and slowly taking his fingers in your mouth. Viktor didn’t move his hand, simply allowing you to get comfortable. As soon as his fingers slipped past your lips towards the back of your throat, you let out a quiet, almost involuntary moan, your eyes fluttering closed. After a second of holding them in your mouth, you tentatively started to suck. As you did so, you just barely registered Viktor letting out an almost inaudible groan, before suddenly you felt his other hand grasp a fistful of your hair. Your eyes flew open just as he began to pump his fingers methodically in and out of your mouth, and you suddenly recognized the emotion that had been smoldering in his brilliant golden irises–
Hunger.
Your grip on his wrist tightened as he pulled your neck taut, and you choked out a whine. Saliva dripped down your chin, but Viktor didn’t stop, didn’t pause. A haze of arousal was beginning to settle inside your head like morning mist, and in the fog of it all, you didn’t even notice as your hips bucked slightly, beginning to grind against the chair in search of any friction, any sort of release. Faintly, you felt Viktor’s fingers slow in their assault until finally he pulled his hand away, and you looked up at him, gasping, spit smeared across your mouth.
“Солнце,” he breathed. “Sit on the desk.”
You scrambled up, legs quivering, and hoisted yourself onto the table, carefully pushing aside loose notes and equipment that, even in your extremely horny state, looked far too expensive to risk breaking. Despite your desperation, you cast an uneasy glance towards the door of the lab.
“No one will come in,” Viktor reassured you, noticing where you were looking. He gave your fingers a squeeze. “The academy’s dead at this time of night. We’re alone, I promise.”
Even in the middle of something like this, he was still so thoughtful towards you. You squeezed back and smiled gratefully at him, brushing your free hand through his hair. “Thank you, Viktor.”
He arched into your caress, humming against your touch, before leaning forward and kissing you gently. You melted, allowing him to slowly push you back until you felt your shoulder blades hit the wall behind you. You shivered against the cold plaster, though the warmth of Viktor’s lips on your own quickly chased away the chill.
“I would like to touch you more, солнышко,” Viktor mumbled against your mouth. “I would like to… make you come. Do I have your permission to do so?”
You gasped, shakily, just barely stopping yourself from moaning. “Y–Yes.”
“And do I have your permission to make you come in whichever way I please?”
This time, you couldn’t muffle the sound that escaped you. “Yes, yes, you do. You can do anything you want, Viktor, just– please,” you said, tugging desperately at his shirt as you pleaded. “Viktor, please.”
“Good,” he murmured, and then his tone shifted once again, growing deep and commanding. “Put your hands behind your back.”
You obeyed without a second thought, watching breathlessly as his deft fingers made quick work of the buttons on your vest, gently pushing it over your shoulders before trailing his hands to your waistline. He paused, waiting patiently for you to lift your hips, before pulling your pants down to your feet in a single fluid motion. You moved to kick them off completely, but he grabbed your shins, stopping you. When you blinked at him in confusion, he held a single finger up and then reached down to open a drawer, rustling around for something. After a moment of searching, he pulled out a small piece of what looked like jewelry wire, and quickly twisted it around the crotch of your pants, firmly fastening your ankles together. Goosebumps erupted on your legs where the cool air of the lab hit your skin. Viktor stepped back and gave you a glance-over, as though surveying his handiwork. His appraising gaze made you feel far more naked than you were.
“Perfect,” he said, almost completely to himself. You shivered, shifting slightly against your makeshift bondage, but remained silent, waiting for him to instruct you. Finally, after a long pause, Viktor leaned over you, placing a hand on your knee.
“Here’s what you’re going to do, солнце.” The hand traced up the curve of your leg to your thigh. You bit the inside of your cheek in an attempt to keep quiet. “You are going to keep your hands behind your back. I am going to touch you exactly how you ask me to. And then, when I say you can, you are going to touch yourself, until finally, you come. Do you understand?”
You nodded fervently. Viktor’s eyes flashed.
“Say it out loud.”
Another shiver rocked your body, this one far more violent than the last, and you rushed to respond audibly. “Y–Yes. Yes, I understand.”
“Good. Good, умняшка. And as a reward for being so obedient, you get to tell me what you’d like me to do to you first.”
You took in a deep, shuddering breath, and slowly dragged your gaze over Viktor’s form, trailing from his burning golden eyes, down the slender slope of his neck, and finally stopping on where his hand still rested atop your thigh. Seeing those graceful fingers so close to where you’d yearned for them to be sent a rush of heat to the pit of your stomach.
“I want you to– to kiss– to kiss my thighs.”
The request came out in a rush, and you quite nearly winced at the desperation in your voice, but then Viktor’s lips twitched into a smile that quickly stoked the growing fire in your abdomen. He rubbed a gentle circle into your upper thigh, and then leaned forward, pressing his open mouth to the sensitive skin just above it. You gasped and immediately started to squirm, but Viktor grabbed onto your legs and kept your knees apart with a firm, unrelenting grip.
“Ah, ah, try not to move, солнышко,” he tutted lightly. You could feel the curve of his grin against your flesh. “We wouldn’t want you falling off the desk.”
You whimpered as you felt him kiss a slow path up and down your inner thigh, the heat from his breath just barely misting against your underwear. He moved from your left leg to your right, and as he did, you felt the tip of his bangs brush against your lower stomach. You had to physically stop yourself from writhing at the sensation.
“You know,” Viktor said after what felt like an eternity, his voice slightly muffled against your skin. “Since I’m down here, it would be a shame to do nothing but kiss. Do I have your permission to… bite?”
“Oh, gods,” you gasped. You shut your eyes tight as though doing so would somehow hide the burning in your cheeks. “Yes. Yes. Gods, yes.”
Viktor chuckled, and that singular sound threatened to unravel you completely, but before you could even consider the act of doing so, he parted his lips even farther and sunk his teeth into the soft flesh of your inner thigh.
You were usually good at being quiet. The walls of the academy dorms were thin, and you couldn’t risk your neighbors overhearing any of your nighttime fantasies, so you had long since trained yourself to muffle your noises. But this was different. This was far, far different from anything you had ever experienced. Nothing else in the world could compare to this. You couldn’t help it. You cried out– a strange mixture of a yelp and a moan escaping from your lips as Viktor left faded scarlet bite marks along the inside of your thighs. By the time he had traveled back to the leg he’d started with, you were shaking, your breath coming out in gasps. He lifted his head from between your legs and pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder.
“Are you alright, солнце?” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the flames in his eyes having dimmed to a low flicker, soft and concerned. “Was that too much? Do you want to take a break, or stop–?”
You rushed to shake your head. If he stopped now, you were fairly certain you would crumble to pieces right then and there. “No! No, no, please, I’m fine– please, please don’t stop, Viktor. I– I don’t know what I’ll do if you stop, I–”
He kissed you once, twice, quick and reassuring, interrupting your frantic pleas. “I won’t stop, солнце. I won’t. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”
“I’m… I’m alright,” you said, your breathing still shaky, but beginning to even out. You gave him a smile, though you were sure it was a wobbly one. “I’m alright, honest. I promise.”
Viktor smoothed your hair behind your ear again. “Alright. Then… May I continue?”
Another moan threatened to escape you, but you quickly silenced it, opting instead to bite your lip and nod. “Yes. Please.”
“Good.” Keeping his hand in your hair, Viktor dipped his face down to brush the tip of his nose against your jawline. “I do like that you say ‘please’ so much. It’s very… mm… cute.”
“Y–You– you think so?” you stammered, your eyes fluttering closed once more as you felt him press soft kisses to the side of your neck.
“I do. I also think that I would like to hear you say it some more.”
His kisses traveled downwards, to the start of your collarbone. You arched your spine to give him better access. Behind your back, you clenched fistfuls of your shirt in your palms, your nails digging into the material. “I can– mmh, I can do that.”
“Ah, my apologies. I do not think I was clear enough.”
You glanced down at him in confusion, only for him to shift his hand from the back of your head to the nape of your neck, gripping firmly– not tight enough to hurt or obstruct your breathing, but tight enough to hold you in place. He brought his head up to look you dead in the eyes.
“I do not just want to hear you say it. I want you to moan that word. I want to hear you gasp it out, to plead with it, to beg with it.” Viktor brought his free hand up over your leg and traced a single finger across your sex. You instantly writhed at the feeling– you hadn’t even noticed just how overstimulated you were. Your hips bucked uselessly, aching for the friction you were being denied, but Viktor didn’t even spare a glance. He kept his gaze firmly on you.
“Will you beg? Will you beg for me, солнышко?”
You let out a sob. “Yes,” you gasped. “Yes, yes, Viktor, I’ll beg. I’ll beg for you. I’ll– I’ll get on my hands and knees, I’ll weep, I’ll– oh, for you.... For you, anything. Anything.”
“Go on, then,” he said, pressing himself ever closer. “Beg.”
The words spilled over your lips before you even truly registered opening your mouth to speak; countless nights of yearning solidified into a desperate, feverish cascade. Overwhelmed, your eyes burned, and so you closed them; your voice no longer sounded like your own, too mangled and wretched to be truly recognizable, yet you relished the ruination, like an unholy indulgence made to an ancient god, and in this sinful prayer, you begged, and you begged deliciously. In the back of your mind you faintly worried you weren’t making any sense; your face was wet; with tears, maybe? With spit? You didn’t know. You didn’t care. You felt Viktor press his palm against your cheek and like a child yearning for comfort, you leaned into its warmth, pushed your face into his hand so that your senses were flooded with him.
“That’s enough, солнце,” you heard him murmur, his praises a welcome comfort in your overwhelmed state. “You’ve done beautifully. Would you like to come?”
You babbled out something that just barely resembled a “yes”.
“Alright. You can touch yourself now–”
You shook your head, cutting him off. You could hardly think, could hardly string together a sentence, but you knew without a doubt that you needed Viktor to touch you. You needed him to make you come. You wanted to give up everything to him.
“Do you want me to touch you, солнышко?” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Is that what you want? Do you want me to make you come?”
“Please,” you sobbed, half-delirious. “Please.”
Viktor didn’t respond. Instead, he slipped a hand into your underwear.
In all of your fantasies, you’d imagined that Viktor would be good with his hands, and perhaps part of that was wishful thinking on your part, but now you were confidently able to say that you were right. Viktor was good with his hands. So good that he turned you into a mewling instrument, played brilliantly by his graceful, gorgeous fingers. You already knew you weren’t going to last long, but from the moment he began to touch you, you could feel your orgasm building, fast and intense, and you reached up to grasp his upper arm, choking out strangled warnings in between your wanton moans.
“V– Viktor, I’m– ah–!” You dug your fingernails into the fabric of his sleeve. “Viktor, I’m– close–”
He pressed a chaste kiss to your temple in encouragement, in reassurance, his domineering persona having completely melted away. “Go on. Go on. Feel good for me, солнышко.”
And you did. You clung to him, limbs locking up as your orgasm wracked your body, your eyesight blurred, yet even in the haze of that gentle undoing you could hear Viktor murmuring soft words into your hair, into the side of your neck, the shape of his body against yours feeling more like home with every passing moment. He kept you riding your high for far longer than you’d ever done yourself, until finally you pushed weakly at his wrist, overstimulated and writhing with sensitivity. He slowly withdrew his hand, his fingers glistening, and quickly went to work undoing your bonds, fixing your clothes, and helping you sit up.
“Good?” he asked. You had to laugh– you could barely move, you thought it would be obvious.
“Yes,” you breathed. “Yes, Viktor, yes. Thank you.”
“Thank you,” he said, kissing you gently and resting his forehead against your own. After a moment of respite, he spoke again. “Are you alright to stand? I can’t imagine the desk is too terribly comfortable, especially after something so, ehm, strenuous. Would you like to move to the couch?”
“That sounds lovely,” you began, then stopped, frowning. “But wait, Viktor, I didn’t… I mean, I haven't done anything for you, yet.”
Viktor laughed and pressed another light kiss to your temple. “Don’t worry about that now. You’re exhausted. Besides, getting to watch you unravel underneath my fingers was pleasure enough for me.”
You ducked your head, tucking your face into the crook of his neck to hide the blush rising to your cheeks. “Alright,” you murmured. “If you’re certain.”
“I’m certain,” he replied. “Now, come on. I think the couch is calling to both of us.”
He offered you his hand as you climbed off the table, though you were careful not to put too much of your weight on him, and slowly, the two of you made your way over to the worn sofa that sat in the corner of the lab. Viktor laid down first, his back pushed up against a pillow, and then you followed suit, curling into him, one hand on his chest and the other draped over his arm. Your muscles felt as though they were laden with iron; your body sinking heavily into the cushions. If you weren’t careful, you could see yourself drifting off right there.
“I fear I might fall asleep like this,” Viktor mumbled, echoing your unsaid thoughts. You glanced up and smiled at the sight of his eyelids fluttering, snuggling in close and wrapping your arm around him a little tighter.
“You can if you want. I won’t judge.”
He snickered softly. “As much as I appreciate your open-mindedness, милая, I would prefer not to give Jayce a heart attack when he comes in tomorrow. I’ve already gotten a fair amount of lectures from him about spending the night in the lab.”
You hummed in understanding, rubbing gentle circles into his shoulder blade. “Fair. How’s this, then: you close your eyes, and I’ll stay awake to make sure you don’t oversleep.”
Viktor pursed his lips as he pondered the offer, raising an eyebrow at you, before finally his mouth twitched into an amused smile. “And you’re positive you won’t fall asleep yourself?”
“I swear to you, I won’t.”
“Hmm. Well. Alright, I will trust you with this.” He brought an arm around your waist and dipped his head down to bury his nose in your hair. “You promise you’ll wake me up?”
You kissed the underside of his jaw. “I promise, Viktor.”
Quiet once again settled down around you. Outside, the storm continued to rage, every so often interrupted by muted rumbles of thunder. When finally you felt Viktor’s breathing begin to slow and you were certain he’d fallen asleep, you let out a gentle sigh, and went to drift off yourself.
“Солнце?”
You shifted slightly to look up at him, blinking in surprise. His eyes were still closed. “Mm-hm?”
“I just remembered something I forgot to tell you.”
“What is it, Viktor?”
He pulled you closer, as though he feared that if he loosened his grip, you’d fall away like sand.
“я тоже тебя люблю,” he murmured.
You didn’t ask what it meant. You knew. The two of you fell asleep together, the thunderstorm outside whispering a lullaby in the form of raindrops.
#glow writes#arcane viktor#viktor arcane#viktor x reader#arcane#arcane x reader#viktor x gn reader#cw nsft#nsft#gender neutral reader#the machine herald
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How goes the 7 Deadly Sins au? Any new headcanons or snippets you can share?
Hmm Clarke owns a potions store and Lexa works at a library that she’s trying to modernize, but her boss Nia makes life a bit of a living hell. Here's a rough excerpt with some exposition:
They sat behind the counter on two wooden stools.
“Little Sicily was closed so I went to Gustav’s instead,” Lexa said as she pulled out wrapped sandwiches from her handbag. “I got avocado and cheese and a brownie.”
“You spoil me.”
“It’s my only virtue.” Lexa smiled.
“Speaking of, I made those Seven Sin cookies this morning. They have to settle for a few days so they’re in the cupboard above the oven.”
Lexa nodded. “Stay away from the cupboard cookies—got it.”
Clarke sunk her teeth into her sandwich. She hadn’t realized how famished she was. “I’m excited for Saturday.”
“What exactly…” Lexa swallowed her bite. Clarke reached out to wipe the bit of avocado at the corner of her mouth. “What exactly is going to happen? Don’t get me wrong, our bachelorette party was a lot of fun, but it was also very… human. Raven is making it seem like this’ll be a congregation of horny witches.”
Clarke laughed. “It won’t be that different from ours, don’t worry. She rented out the club’s magical section and there’ll be about forty witches—tops.”
Lexa paused. “That’s the complete opposite of ours. We had seven friends at the quietest bar on the docks.”
“Okay, true, but Raven works fifty-hour weeks in dank labs. When she can party, she goes all out.”
“Is Finn doing something?”
“Lincoln and Wells are treating him to a hockey game and dinner.”
“How boringly human,” Lexa said. “Why is Raven making a life commitment to him again?”
“Because despite being an oaf, he’s got a good heart and he makes her happy.”
Lexa wrinkled her nose. “He’s all right.”
Clarke set her sandwich down to sit on Lexa's lap. “Honey, you don’t have to see him until the ceremony.”
“I know.”
“Lexa…” She cupped the back of her neck.
Lexa looked up at her.
“I’m madly in love with you, so you better not be thinking anyone in the world—let alone Finn Collins—could ever threaten that.”
“I’m not. But I also can’t imagine anyone getting over you, no matter how long ago the heartbreak was.”
“I promise you Finn is completely over me. He’s crazy about Raven. He climbed Mount Weather in the dead of winter just to get the right gem for their bracelets. He survived on warmth potions and crushed honeysuckle powder. Trust me, witches only do that for who they know is their greatest love.”
Lexa considered this. “I’d climb Mount Weather for you.”
“Err, no you wouldn’t. I forbid it.”
“I’d survive it.”
“Lexa, you get cold shopping in the frozen aisle of the grocery store. You don’t even like breezes in the summer.”
“I could still do it.”
“Okay, fine.” Clarke grabbed the rest of her sandwich, knowing it was best not to argue such a trivial matter. Mount Weather had never been scaled by a human and never could be, but Lexa liked to be stubborn sometimes. “How’s work? Did you talk to Nia?”
Lexa shook her head. “As soon as I mention digitization she walks away.”
“I don’t get her. You have one of the largest collections of rare magical books but only witches with badges can access them—it’s a waste.”
“I know that. Everyone at the library knows that. But she’s worked there for forty years and she famously resents change. She thinks digitization of magical books will lead to humans accessing them too easily.”
Clarke huffed. “That’s the point. Education was the number one tool to facilitate the Liberation. She should know, she lived it!”
Lexa frowned. “She’s not that old.”
“She’s retirement age.”
“Didn’t you say you’ll work at the store until you drop?”
“Yeah, but I don’t have a hot, competent, forward-thinking employee lined up to replace me.”
Lexa blushed. “I’m hardly qualified. But it would be nice to get a promotion…"
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Who wants a sneak preview of some Sokkla sexy times?
I have at least rough drafts done of all four scenes for my Short Stories Chapter 69 special, so I thought I’d celebrate by posting a snippet of one of them! Since I’m evil, I cut the preview off before it got to the actual sex...but all the more to look forward to once I get it on AO3, right? I’m hoping that’ll be within the next week.
Azula couldn’t quite comprehend the sequence of events that had ended with her leading the Water Tribe peasant boy by the hand to the first vacant room she saw. It had started out simply enough, with her sneaking furtive glances at him any time there was an opportunity during Zuko and Mai’s lengthy wedding ceremony. She had been fairly certain that he was aware of this and doing the same. And why shouldn’t he? She was nineteen, in the prime of her looks, and had regained her healthy appearance after a year of being out of the hospital. Sokka had changed quite a bit himself. Five years ago, he’d had all the awkward proportions of someone mid-growth spurt. Now, he had completely grown into his body and had filled out quite nicely. And Azula had always appreciated a nice pair of toned arms on a man. Also, he’d grown a sexy little beard, which was a nice bonus.
Then, they’d ended up just a few seats apart from each other at the subsequent dinner, which facilitated the eye sex even further. (Mai, of course, had been the one in charge of finalizing the seating plans, and Azula couldn’t help but wonder…) The newlyweds had retired early to much hooting and hollering, and things in the banquet hall started to get rowdy. People started pairing up looking for slightly more private locales…lots of male-female couples, but also plenty that were two men, or two women, and even, in a few cases, more than two people. It was as if, after more than a century of such relationships being illegal, everyone was making up for lost time now that the laws had been repealed.
Sokka was not one of the ones who left. Azula recalled hearing from Ty Lee that he and Suki amicably separated a year or so ago because the necessity of a long-distance relationship was getting to them. The Kyoshi Warrior was at the wedding too, of course, but she was quite a bit farther down the table, deep in conversation with…Anshi?! Well, Azula didn’t think that her bookish eldest half-sister was Suki’s type, if that was indeed what they were planning…but whatever. Sokka glanced over that way briefly too, and he didn’t seem concerned or upset in the least.
Azula’s gaze drifted back to the Water Tribesman’s biceps, and she found herself wondering what other delights might be concealed beneath his clothing. Before she knew it, she was on her feet. Fuck it, why not? She had been in a constant state of at least mild horniness lately; Ty Lee had been so busy at the university that Azula hadn’t been with her in that way since the semester started. Still having no idea how to flirt, she merely walked over to Sokka’s place at the table and stood there silently until he noticed her.
“Well?” she asked flatly, arms folded. “Do you want to or not?”
He took a moment to consider; if he said no, Azula was certain that she’d have to leave the hall anyway to go masturbate in her rooms. But then he was rising from his chair, and she breathed a little sigh of relief.
“Wow. Not what I was expecting,” he commented. “But okay.”
Azula took his warm and slightly sweaty hand into hers. She noted approvingly that Sokka still had a fairly steady gait as they started walking. Not drunk out of his mind, then. She herself had only stuck to one cup of plum wine for politeness’s sake. Everyone else remaining at the table, however, was so inebriated and/or preoccupied that no one noticed them leave; at least, Azula thought they didn’t. And now they were wandering the palace, looking for an appropriate place for their little liaison. There were currently many unused rooms, since the huge families and sprawling harems that had been the norm when the palace was built were no longer customary, and Zuko kept a smaller court in general than their father had. Even so, the first several rooms they passed had already been claimed by other intrepid lovers; the sounds emanating from behind the doors made that much clear. Finally, Azula located a tiny closet that she knew was sometimes used to store cleaning supplies, although it was empty now except for a few cobwebs.
Sokka eyed the closet with some trepidation.
“There’s no furniture in here,” he observed. All Azula did was smirk at him.
“We won’t need any furniture,” she informed him. “Now close the door before someone decides to gawk at us.”
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Eli/Ba’kif fluff and smut! Melt ❄❄
I just... can’t stop adding tiny ships to my fleet 🙈
Anyway, this is fluffy and smutty and honestly kind of adorable in a horny way (at least I think so), and also all @confuzing‘s fault.
Without further ado:
“Eli’v— Eli!”
Eli perked up at the now-familiar deep voice calling to him from down the corridor, and turned back to greet Ba’kif with a little wave and a grin. “Director,” he started; but the retired Chiss General waved him off.
“I’ve told you, just Ba’kif. No need to stand on ceremony when we’re off duty.”
Eli smiled as Ba’kif fell into step beside him, shortening his ridiculously long strides so Eli wouldn’t have to hurry to keep pace. “Sorry, si- sorry.”
“The Steadfast is heading out in two days, I believe?” Ba’kif said conversationally as they walked.
“We are,” Eli answered, surreptitiously glancing sideways, and up, at him and wondering what this was all about. Ba’kif, of course, knew full well Admiral Ar’alani’s ship was slowly making ready to depart his facility again now that all ten officers— including Eli— had finished their training. A few would be remaining behind, having failed the test. Eli’s cheeks warmed at the memory of how close he’d come to failing as well, not to mention nearly doing himself physical damage, through sheer pigheadedness and not wanting to come in last. Fortunately Ba’kif had helped him through that, and in the week or so that Eli’s crew had been waiting for the stragglers and recuperating— to Eli’s continual surprise, he and Ba’kif had become… close.
It may have had something to do with Ba’kif warming him up after his brush with hypothermia in the, er, old-fashioned way— not that Eli had minded that in the slightest— but even more than that, Ba’kif had been giving him some very welcome advice to help him get settled with the CDF a bit better. They had even talked about Thrawn a fair bit, and it had been beyond just nice to do that with someone who seemed to genuinely understand and share Eli’s particular blend of fond exasperation, frustration, and confusion with his former CO— and Ba’kif’s former protégé, amazingly enough.
In fact, Eli had quickly grown so comfortable around the semi-retired general, he’d found himself actually spilling his normally closely-guarded thoughts and worries on whether Thrawn really cared about it him all; even admitting that he and Thrawn had been… involved. Though that one had been after a sight more than just a few drinks in the officer’s lounge together, late one evening…
-
“You’d think… you know, you’d think after breaking regs and sleeping with him on ’n off for what, almos’ a decade? That I’d’ve manage’ to get some idea of how he actually felt about me,” Eli said morosely. He peered into the bottom of his glass, surprised to find it empty. Again.
Ba’kif huffed a wry laugh. “With anyone else, sure. But this is Mitth’r- Mitth’raw’nurrodo—” he slurred the name slightly and Eli giggled— “we’re talking about here. He was like that with me, too.”
Eli’s head jerked up in surprise. “You mean… you ’n Thrawn..?”
“Hey, now, look, I know I don’t exactly hold up in the looks department next to him, but—”
“Oh puh-leese.” Eli cut Ba’kif off with a loud snort and shot him a lopsided, appreciative grin. “I bet you’wre a silver fox back then too. Naw, I meant… I mean… you were the Supreme General, right? Isn’ that… like… against so many fratern- fratern’sation regulashuns?”
Ba’kif sent him a look over his glass that sent a swirl of heated interest through Eli’s belly, entirely separate and distinct from the heat of the very strong Chiss whiskey—
-
“I’ll be sorry to see you leave,” Ba’kif said into Eli’s wandering, and somewhat inappropriate, thoughts. Eli blushed again, cursing himself inwardly as Ba’kif’s lips quirked in a subtle, knowing smirk. “I wanted to show you something before you go, though,” he added, pausing at a side corridor. “If you have the time?”
“Definitely,” Eli said, intrigued. “I’m still off duty till we leave, after all.”
His curiosity and confusion both grew as Ba’kif led the way towards what he eventually recognized as one of the doors exiting the complex to the snowy planet surface outside. Following Ba’kif’s lead, Eli bundled up in the heavy outer layers from the shared lockers by the exit; then followed Ba’kif out of the warm, brightly-lit entryway and into the cold, dark night.
#van'kif#eli vanto#ba'kif#eli x ba'kif#star wars#thrawn ascendancy#smut#chaosfic#winter prompt challenge
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For the ultimate ship meme, Lion and Doc? I'm sorry, I'm LionDoc trash-
it’s all good!! whenever someone sends in an ask, i get an excuse to talk/write about one of my interests! really, it makes me so happy to be able to create content that people hopefully enjoy!! 💝💝💝
General:
Rate the Ship - Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs
How long will they last? - until the end of time, babey
How quickly did/will they fall in love? - it was love at first sight but then they started talking i do think it was some form of ~interest~ in one another at first sight, but then all that drama and lack of communication happened so they didn’t really allow themselves to even dream about the possibility of a relationship. HOWEVER! once lion joined rainbow and they talked their shit out like people who know how to cope, there was a period of a few months that is now referred to as The Four Months of Pining™, during which glaz did a lot of paintings where the subject (who usually bears an uncanny resemblance to doc or lion) is staring at something (or someone) longingly. he calls it his french period. when they finally get together, a LOT of money changes hands. and goes straight into sledge’s pocket (he was the only one who bet that it would take them this long). diana gets a brand new collar (handmade), bed (handmade), dish (handmade), and many new toys (some handmade, some store-bought. sledge’s craftsmanship can only get him so far)
How was their first kiss? - you know how the french are supposed to be super suave and confident??? and how gay people are trying their hardest but they’re just Not Good at things????? (i know these are stereotypes but stay with me). well, with their 5/8 french blood (i hc one of doc’s parents is fully algerian while the other is half french, half algerian), and their 4/4 gay blood, they have an 81.25% chance of success in matters of the heart. sadly, that 18.75% chance of failure came into play during this situation. picture it. doc and lion. romantic, home-cooked dinner. le festin is playing in the background. they’re holding hands over the table. suddenly, doc’s cat goes into labour. all hell breaks loose. lion is getting flashbacks to his son’s birth, so now he’s hyperventilating. doc carries him to the couch and turns on the fan so he can cool off and catch his breath, before carefully moving his cat, Rayie (arabic for gorgeous, pronounced rye-ah) to the living room in his handmade Birthing Box, then grabs a pile of blankets and a heat lamp and situates himself on the ground nearby so he can help her if she needs it. once the kittens are born (they’re twins!! Sadiqi is the boy, and Amirti is the girl!!!) doc makes sure they’re nice and warm and that Rayie is recovering, and gives her pets while she cleans her babies. once the happy family is all settled in for the night, doc walks over to the couch and just. lays down on top of lion. once he’s gotten over the adrenaline of the birth, he takes lion’s face in his hands and says “promise me you’ll be more calm if we ever decide to have kids” and gives him a BIG smooch while lion’s just short-circuiting like “does he know i have a son???? did i forget to mention my son?????? also what about these kittens??? are they not sufficiently childish to count as children????? DOES HE WANT KIDS????? does he want to marry me??????? wait why is he getting so clo-”
Wedding:
Who proposed? - lion. it was the day of their two year anniversary (yes i AM saying they got together the august after outbreak don’t @ me) and they were on vacation at doc’s family’s Secret Beach House. they were vibing on the balcony, watching the sunset, when lion suddenly clears his throat. doc turns to look at him and finds his boyfriend down on one knee, looking like he might flee to Bermuda. he’s reaching for something in his pocket. doc starts laughing. lion, completely misunderstanding his reaction, flushes and stammers out an apology. doc sees this, and immediately stops, though he’s still smiling gleefully as he catches lion by the biceps, then reaches into his own pocket and pulls the ring he was going to give olivier. they exchange rings, giggling like little kids, and spend the rest of the night making out on whatever surfaces are available.
Who is the best man/men? - for lion? montagne. (his son is the ring bearer and doc’s niece is the flower girl). for doc? rook. he’s so happy he gets to participate in his dad’s wedding
Who is the bride’s maid(s)? - for lion: finka. for doc: twitch
Who did the most planning? - both of them!! do you know how hard they worked to ensure the ceremony was valid in the eyes of both of their religions
Who stressed the most? - s e e a b o v e
How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.
Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - lion’s parents. they tried to call him during the reception but doc’s grandma grabbed his phone and started cussing them out, talking about dishonor and how they tried to disown him so they’re not his parents anymore, and besides, his new family absolutely adores him, so really, it’s their loss. once she hangs up, she pulls lion into a hug and he calls her his favorite, if only, grand-mère
Sex:
Who is on top? - who’s topping? lion. but sometimes doc gets bitchy so he gets to set the pace if you know what i mean
Who is the one to instigate things? - they are both lowkey horny 24/7 so 👀👀👀
How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now (only because they do get to see each other fairly often. if one goes on a long mission without the other, once they get back they will bump it up to a 10 real quick)
How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head
How long do they normally last? - idk long enough ig. maybe longer if someone feels they’ve been left ~unsatisfied~ they might go a few more rounds ;))
Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - ok it depends on what they’re doing but usually it’s one or two each, but on ~special~ occasions it’s either doc getting edged and denied for hours, OR doc getting forced to come over and over again until he’s begging for something, whether it be more or a goddamn break even he isn’t really sure. either way he’s crying and lion is consistently asking if he needs to safeword and otherwise checking in because they may like it rough but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care
How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.
How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.
Children:
How many children will they have naturally? - unless someone’s hormones and organs get fucked, zero
How many children will they adopt? - probably none?? idk they’ve already got lion’s son and they’re both busy enough with work so
Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - NEITHER!!!!! DISGUSTANG!!!!!!!!!
Who is the stricter parent? - god i wanna say both. like lion and his attachment to rules??? but doc and his Mom Friend energy????? but ig lion BUT HE’S NOT STRICT TO THE POINT HE’S A BUZZKILL OR ANYTHING HE’S JUST RESPONSIBLE (he will NOT allow his husband and son to go vandalize the property of some islamaphobic brits, as much as he agrees with the sentiment)
Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - doc will only allow vandalism if it’s in the name of righteousness. meaning, he’ll allow their son to spray paint the walls of a goddamn walmart with shit like “eat the rich” and a portrait of robespierre and a guillotine, but it is a HARD NO on defacing places like the library or community center (unless he has a good reason to do so). lion spends his time praying and making sure his son knows which acts of civil disobedience are acceptable and which are distorting their goal
Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - doc. he (privately) dreams of retiring (eventually) and living out his lifelong dreams of being a househusband. so
Who is the more loved parent? - SHUT THE FUCK UP RIGHT NOW GET OUT OF MY HOUSE IM GONNA BEAT YOUR ASS. but ig lion??? BUT ONLY BECAUSE THEIR SON HAS KNOWN HIM LONGER. doc is half Dad and half Cool Uncle Who Gives Me Spray Paint And Tells Me To Make Myself Heard (to clarify, i know doc is a pacifist, but im kinda projecting my own sentiment of “we’ve tried to be peaceful but you wouldn’t give us the time of day. now that we’ve “acted out” we’ve gotten your attention, and rest assured, things are going to change.” he won’t hurt anybody, he’s just tired of having to be everyone’s “muslim friend” and educating people on things they could google themselves)
Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? - it used to be lion out of necessity, but when people started asking about his “wife” he was really torn between telling them that he and his son’s mother separated, but now he has a partner and his son seems very happy about it. when doc finally attends a meeting with lion, people really struggle to hide their shock. a few clunky but well-meaning “we support you”’s and “we’re sorry for everything that’s been going on”’s later, doc has used his charm to make friends with literally everyone. from then on, he is on pta duty on behalf of lion and his ex
Who cried the most at graduation? - lion! his parents purposefully didn’t show at his, so it’s a big deal for him to show his son just how proud he is. doc tears up a little too, but manages to mostly keep it together so he can support lion, who spends most of the day heave-crying about how proud he is into his husband’s shoulder. gustave just pats him on the back and tells him that they’ll run out of donuts if they don’t get to the concession stand soon
Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - doc. civil disobedience, baby!! he has never been caught. lion fears the law after his youth, so he tries to avoid any visits to law enforcement. he also can’t stand to see his son behind bars
Cooking:
Who does the most cooking? - doc. househusband, remember?
Who is the most picky in their food choice? - doc, but only because he can be a bit of a spice supremacist. he has to get his ingredients from these very specific farms and markets or else his great grandmother will begin manifesting in their house to curse them
Who does the grocery shopping? - doc, bc he does NOT trust lion to not just sweep all of the microwave ramen and kraft mac n cheese into the cart then sprint to self-checkout
How often do they bake desserts? - whenever possible. doc and maestro live by the philosophy “don’t do anything halfway” if they’re going to go through the trouble of making a meal, it will have multiple courses.
Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - doc is more of a salad eater but only for ease of consumption with halal laws. he adores filet mignon
Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - lion! maestro enlists himself as assistant head chef after walking into the base’s kitchen one day to find lion covered in flour and lying facedown on the floor, crying
Who is more likely to suggest going out? - also lion! though he’s memorized doc’s order at all of their favorite restaurants, so he usually just gets take out and puts on a big show of being a “tired housewife who works in the kitchen all day just for this one meal” and setting up the table so it’s all nice and romantic
Who is more likely to burn the house down accidently while cooking? - lion. he tried crème brûlée once. never again
Chores:
Who cleans the room? - lion. organization is everything to this man. doc helps with laundry and such, but for the most part he leaves organization to lion and his systems (think leslie knope levels of planning and organization)
Who is really against chores? - neither! they both understand that teamwork makes the dream work, baby!!
Who cleans up after the pets? - doc, since lion’s already asked him which color hanger should represent “clothes i can tear off my husband before we fuck” and he needs a Moment
Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - neither. they don’t own a broom
Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - lion because of the deep-seated catholic urge to appear perfect in front of others, and doc because people will gossip, olivier!
Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - lion. he immediately called doc into the room and asked “is this your stash of drug money?” doc, who had been asleep because it was 3 in the morning on a saturday, just stares at him
Misc:
Who takes the longer showers/baths? - it is so bold to assume they don’t shower together to “cut costs”
Who takes the dog out for a walk? - lion is known in their neighborhood as the man who walks cats. there is a facebook page where people post pictures of him walking his cats. vigil is an admin
How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - LITERALLY EVERY HOLIDAY GETS DECORATIONS. lion makes his own for the muslim holidays since there really aren’t many “of good quality” in stores. when they first started dating, doc came home to find his house covered in ramadan decorations, and lion standing precariously on a ladder, trying to string up fairy lights while learning how to pronounce important arabic words. needless to say, doc cries
What are their goals for the relationship? - mutual joy and contentment!!!!
Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - doc. he’s sleepy
Who plays the most pranks? - lion, but they’re stupid ones like replacing certain pictures with danny devito. doc gets back at him by replacing pictures of jesus with ewan mcgregor, and putting yoda into his nativity scene. lion doesn’t notice
#ask#anonymous#r6s doc#r6s lion#doc/lion#ass alert!#could you tell i forgot whether or not lion's ex and son had names#thank you for interacting!
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MICHAEL CORLEONE X MOB BOSS READER ( SFW & NSFW )
Anon Request: Can you like do some badass Don oc+Don Michael corleone headcanons?please and thank you
- To say the two of you didn’t get along at first would be the understatement of the century.
- Like, you just walked into his city and acted like you owned the place. What the actual fuck?
- Michael had never been more pissed and intrigued in his entire life - so, naturally, he arranged a meeting between the two of you.
- Spoiler alert: It was a fucking disaster. He tried everything to bring you under his control - from flattery, to bribe, to good ole intimidation tactics. And you wasted no time calling him on his bullshit and walking out on him with an offended scowl on your face. Like, seriously, who the fuck did this guy think he was, insulting your intelligence like that.
- At this point, mark him down as furious and horny. He’d never met a stronger, smarter and more confident person than you in his entire fucked up life. And a part of him was truly impressed at you - while the rest of him wanted to teach you some manners.
- Your first impression of him was that Michael Corleone was strong, small and bitter like a human espresso. He was smart, calculated and obviously thought of himself as the hottest bestest shit in town - and you were ready to prove him wrong.
- Several failed negotiations, pissing contests and mutual assassination attempts later, it was a miracle you were both still alive.
- The rivalry between the two of you would have continued for goddamn years, were it not for that idiot mob boss who tried to have you two killed.
- Though far from ideal, the situation prompted you and Michael to join forces and destroy your common enemy.
- The poor bitch was in for a ride.
- Then again, he’d managed to piss off two of the most powerful, intelligent and petty mob bosses that ever existed on God’s Earth.
- Your guys’ vendetta was a thing of great beauty. You didn’t just kill the guy, you destroyed him, his family and his criminal empire - thus ensuring that nobody would dare defy you and Michael ever again.
- Apparently terrible acts of vengeance can bring even the most unlikely people together, because the two of you became trusted business associates afterwards.
- I won’t lie, it was a very slow burn type of relationship. It went from enemies, to professional allies, to friends - and, finally, to lovers.
- It took you guys fucking years - and ungodly amounts of sexual tension and frustration - to actually start dating.
- It was Michael who made the first move and asked you out for dinner.
- And thank fuck for that, because you were already on the verge of throwing in the towel and climbing him like a tree at that point.
- The feeling was mutual, so the situation escalated rather quickly between the two of you.
- Your first date ended with the two of you having sex on your living room floor, after Michael escorted you home like a true gentleman, and you invited him inside “ for a cup coffee “.
- In your defense, you did serve him an espresso before things took a turn for the raunchy.
- Your guys’ relationship evolved organically from that moment on, turning from a passionate affair into a beautifully balanced romance.
- Eventually, you two gor married, and Michael made sure the ceremony was everything you’d ever dreamed of. No expense was spared.
- You two are the very definition of a power couple.
- You don’t argue very often, but when you do, it’s like the Third World War, with lots of casualties and collateral damage.
- Michael respects and loves you with his entire soul, and treats you like royalty. Your wish is his command, and he always makes sure you are safe, happy, content and surrounded by his affection. He is a dependable partner, both from a romantic and a professional standpoint.
- You are his most trusted ally, his beloved and his entire world. He would trust you with his life, because you are a brilliant strategist and a clever business partner. On top of that, you protect, cherish and adore him just as much as he does you.
- God help anyone who dares pick on either ( or both ) of you. They are as good as dead.
- Do I have to mention that your sex life is wild ? Because it fucking is.
- Michael Corleone is a switch - but you are the only one who has ever managed to bring him down on his knees, through the sheer power of your love. He also happens to think you’re sexy when you’re on top of the situation in more than just one way * wink wink *. Basically he is a powerful man who doesn’t feel like his masculinity is in any way threatened by the act of bowing down - sometimes literally - to his s/o’s will.
- That being said, there is nothing sexier to you than when he dominates you - pinning your wrists above your head as he thrusts into you with enough force to rock the bed, all the while whispering sweet dirty things in your ear.
- Slow dancing. Lots and lots of slow dancing to your guys’ favourite song. If you don’t know how to dance, don’t worry, because Michael is a very good teacher.
- Michael would like nothing more than to start a family with you, but he would never pressure you into doing so. If you accepted, however, he’d be the happiest man on God’s Earth. Biological or adopted, Michael would put his heart and soul into raising your children and surrounding them with love, attention and support - no matter what they choose to become in life.
- You two would eventually retire from the criminal underworld, and retreat somewhere in Sicily, where you would live the remainders of your life.
- If you thought Michael was a father was endearing, grandpa Michael is definitelly gonna melt your heart. He mellowed considerably in his old age, but shhhhh don’t let him know.
- Even after all these years, he still sees you as the most gorgeous and wonderful person in this world.
#michael corleone x reader#michael corleone imagine#the godfather x reader#the godfather imagine#the godfather fanfic#my writing
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You sent them over earlier in the day so I could finesse the fit. We have plans to attend another kink party with our circle of like-minded hedonists… and potential partners this weekend. You’re notoriously stingy with my affections and perhaps thought these dark feathered wings would seem menacing and foreboding to keep brazen comers at a distance. You prefer the voyeurism of others while you pleasure me so they can admire your talents and the delirious effect on me, your personal treasure. I have no objections being on the receiving end of the attention and respond with a sexual abandon that is admired among the attendees. Of late, despite my sexual satisfactions by your hand, my nymphomaniacal tendencies have been bubbling to the surface. You have noticed my wandering eye and curiosity about the techniques of others in our gatherings and torment yourself with guessing who I favor as a possible third to join us. I assure you of my desire for your involvement and frame your role as a chaperone and guide. Instinctively, I know you will be hands-on, so the idea of two men collaborating my releases from a favored front row seat has easily piqued your libido. I question your choices of a possible ‘suitor’/team member for the impending scenario and you promptly name a luscious young stud that is new to our group. I feign indifference to salve your ego, but tease you affectionately about your own appetites and proclivities. The grin and blush is telling and I find it adorable. The pillow talk quickly devolves into a rousing round of climaxes that we both marvel at in the afterglow. The deal is sealed and plans are set in motion with horny anticipation and this scheduled test run with my fresh feathery attire. Seeing me adorned takes your breath away and we immediately engage to gauge the logistics and verify their effect on arousal. Check and check, check, check. You heartily approve of the costume and dress yourself in a tuxedo, adding matching silk capes, effectively collapsing my new appendages beneath, for our entrance. I am exhilarated with the promise of the evening ahead of us, but until you confess your fears of my fleeing your possession, I realize the wings are more of a metaphor for you. All eyes turn our way as we greet the other guests, ceremoniously unveiling me which triggers the spread of the wings in all their glory. Eyes light up as you caress my undulating body, murmurring lasciviously, that tonight, I am too much for just one man. All in attendance agree as they devour the spectacle hungrily. Drinks are poured, as if the social lubrication is required for this crowd who came to play, and the focus drifts to their personal pursuits. You whisper an invitation to our intended mark as I circle him, letting the feathers graze his face. There is no misunderstanding between us as we lock into a smoldering gaze and I place a dangling tie from my thong into his fingers. He toys with it giving it a soft tug, which brings me into his embrace before it falls away from my hips. You have dispensed with your jacket and tie, retired to a fireside chair and direct him to “Dance her over here for us to share.”
I am intoxicated with his unfamiliar scent and nuzzle his neck as he glides me across the room.
“She’s curious about your moves, show us…”
Your voice trails off as he strokes my backside tenderly before dragging his long finger down the furrow between my cheeks. I am silent until it delves into my dewy sex and I can’t help but whimper breathlessly into his ear. He muffles my response with a deep kiss, maintaining eye contact even as my lids flutter in surrender to his busy fingers below.
“Apologies… this is for you too”
he mumbles as he twirls me around to face you, flushed and tantalized. After he sniffs and licks his fingertips, he reaches around to gather more of the nectar he has triggered.
“She’s as delicious as she looks…”
Kneading me while I gasp and purr, he looks to you for guidance and you suggest slowing the pace, to “edge her for a bit… I’m craving a bit of sweet torture.”
I smile wanly and moan in consent. I can also sense his growth throbbing patiently in the cleave of my derriere as he presses me back into it. You suggest that my breasts are going to waste…
“They’re my favorite”
so he sashays me nearly on top of you, bending me at the waist to serve them to you at lip level. My front enclosure is unlatched and the bra opens for your tongue kisses to my stiff nipples. You reach forward as you nibble to sample the progress between my thighs. Your fingers meet and you guide his into my depths with yours. The filling is exquisite and I cry out with one joyful plea… “More”
Both of you oblige with additional digits, and my deep groan rewards your obedience as I push back against your slow easing in and out in tandem. I tell you both I am nearing an orgasm, and the rhythm slows to a standstill as I throb around the combined girth. Fingers are removed and I whimper at the brief withdrawal knowing that an epic release is building… but being denied. My breathing is ragged and slowing as I glow from the exertion. I recognize the gleam in your eye, as you ease off to calm me. It is that familiar pride because you now have an audience. Indeed we are surrounded and it’s my turn to call some shots and share my desires… for your enjoyment. I turn to face our new partner and plant a deep tongue-probing kiss as I unzip his fly to free him into my hand. Looking pleased and surprised as I rub the tip against my swollen folds, he moans his pleasure at the sensations. When I whisper my request, he nods with a smirk and turns me around to thread himself through my legs with long slow strokes. You are preoccupied with savoring the flavor of me from your fingers, but smile broadly when I position us for your service to me and the hard length of him for your mouth.
“Plenty more… help yourself”
You seem hesitant, but I cradle your head to guide you toward the combined juiciness. Once there you are voracious and insatiable, lavishing my lips with tongue strokes before accepting his stiffening staff past yours. You grasp his hips to bring the combination of us closer, earnestly dedicating yourself to satisfying us together at once. The easy push and pull causes the air in the room to flap my wings in a lazy seductive motion. Our groans of ecstacy are simultaneous as the slow pace suits us all. Soon, enough of his now full grown length has filled your eager mouth completely while you nurse it with gusto, your nose nudging my tenderness repeatedly in a most delightful way. You meet my eyes with gratitude and hunger as you continue. I stroke your hair as you become lost in the connection and subtly grind between you both to gratify myself. This is beyond my imagining of the power of a forceful appendage to inhabit a suckling partner. Now, having been in both positions, my memories have set my mind spinning out of control. Behind me, our newest friend is gnawing on my shoulders and neck like a feral animal in heat. He massages my plump breasts, roughly telegraphing his responses to your talents by kneading my nipples with an intensity I desire. My wings rustle in the melee, and I imagine the sight of our twisted archangel sandwich of thrusting bodies and reassigned probes to those that watch us. I sense his approaching release between my legs and into your mouth and signal my own impending climax and how helpless I am to hold back in this wild configuration of probing you relentlessly with our shared member. I meet your eyes again and you are ready to recieve it all, all at once, throttling yourself to match our cumming. It is then, I realize that these new-found satisfactions has forever changed our dynamic, and as I imagine the possibilities… I cum in an unfamiliar but spectacular new way.
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YOU KNOW I'M GONNA SAY CHARLES/PICKLES FOR THAT SHIP MEME :D
Shipping Meme [Open]
AAA AND I LOVE YOU FOR THAT-
My ADHD is incredibly strong tonight so enjoy the rambling headcanons I have because I just love them too much ;^;-
General:
Rate the Ship - Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs
How long will they last? - Forever obviously, they’re in it for the long road ahead!
How quickly did/will they fall in love? - I think it was a gradual thing for sure! Definitely met during the SnB era and Charles was the one who fell in love quickly though wasn’t much aware of it until later. Pickles had probably become a bit wearier of falling in love then so it took him a bit longer to admit he even had feelings for him. They probably didn’t even admit it until years later when they began to work for Dethklok-
How was their first kiss? - they probably didn’t have a first kiss until nearly a decade or two of meeting each other, they were really fucking awkward haha-But I think their first kiss together would be sweet; they probably had a really well needed heart-to-heart talk and just eventually, it happened.
Wedding:
Who proposed? - Charles 100%-it’s nothing elaborate or extraordinary, just quiet and probably between them while they’re alone or planned with the boys.
How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.
Technically the rating would be a 2 as their first ‘ceremony’ would be those quick courthouse weddings. I mainly like the idea of them getting engaged and possibly married sometime after Doomstar and before they have to confront Salacia. Kind of in a ‘now or never’ kind of situation but they both would’ve gotten married regardless of the prophecy or not. Though once the prophecy is fulfilled, the boys will insist they have a proper big red wedding
Who is the best man/men? Pickles initially chose all of Dethklok to be his best men to avoid a battle to the death combat. Though, later on it became safer for him to officially choose one best man and that would be Nathan. For Charles, it was easier and he chose his best man to be Huey Lewis, no explanation further needed.
-Who did the most planning? Definitely not them-the boys, Dick, and Abigail would’ve insisted that they do the planning. Magnus and Murderface were the only ones to actually know about organizing a wedding surprisingly, actually asked for their input but kept it as vague as possible, and despite the ridiculously typical setbacks, managed to pull off a pretty elaborate wedding that they were both pretty pleased with.
-Who stressed the most? Charles definitely-since everyone wanted to keep it a ‘surprise’ and he knows pretty well that a surprise from them is going to either be really extravagant, out of this world wedding or a Hot Topic Parking Lot wedding. Luckily, they got the first.
-Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - Rockso and Pickles’ family for sure. They didn’t even know they got married until it ended up on the Dethklok Minute and they were pissed but Pickles probably got his new family through Charles (if they’re alive and decent?) and by extension, Dethklok so to Pickles, his real family was at the wedding (no matter how many times they tried to argue that to him.) Seth probably sent him that blender as a wedding gift though
Sex:
Who is on top? - Top/bottom roles are non-existent to them; it’s really on whatever they’re up for at the moment.
Who is the one to instigate things? - Pickles obviously; if he feels like Charles is working a bit too much or they haven’t done it in a while (three days), he’ll definitely instigate. Considering how well he knows him and what gets him riled up, Charles never says no-
How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now
How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head
How long do they normally last? - It can depend on how horny they both are or if they just want to take their time-probably lasts between under half an hour to an hour.
Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - It’s probably hard of them to be completely sure if they’ve been going at it repeatedly but really it’s all up to when one has had enough and the other will stop for the night. Or if the other doesn’t feel satisfied enough, they’ll easily come up with something quick to do. Overall, it’s just making sure that the other is satisfied at the end of the night!
How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.
How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory. (Pickles accounts for like 80% of this, hands down-)
Children:
How many children will they have naturally? - none-Pickles is a Trans Male is a theory I take to the grave but I do headcanon he got bottom surgery. Even if he didn’t, they’re both too old (fuckin rip), and raising children is way too much responsibility/commitment for their lifestyle and there’s probably that lingering feeling that they might get called to fulfill their roles again so it would be borderline selfish to put kids into trauma/danger. (Charles spent years basically raising man-children he needs the retirement haha)
How many children will they adopt? - I don’t think they’ll adopt either, for reasons I stated above. I kinda like to think that when they retire or move away from Mordhaus to create their own home, they become that couple that opens their home to whatever troubled teens/kids/young adults need a place to stay, no questions asked. They might end up fostering a teen or two or take temporary custody if a situation calls for it. It just never turns to an official adoption and if the kids stay for a longer period of time, they end up making sure they get put in a good foster/adoptive family.
Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - Probably Pickles though the situations where he had to watch over a baby/toddler while their older sibling went to school/work was very few and far between (the dude lived through the 80s with hairspray and everything, no smell can get to him now-)
Who is the stricter parent? - I think it depends on the situation. Pickles can be a bit stricter than Charles surprisingly because there is no way you’d be able to lie or try and go behind his back. If he sees that a particular kid reminds him of himself, he may just be a bit stricter than usual and it has to be Charles to remind him that the kids are in good hands now. Besides that, Charles is definitely strict but fair. He’s just as hard trying to go behind his back and can actually ground them (he’s not even their legal guardian, they just know he can’t be messed with.)
Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - Charles definitely-But usually he’s the last to find out about it haha-
Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - Charles (though mainly he remembers to tell Pickles as he’s the one who has the time to make it in the mornings)
Who is the more loved parent? - They both are for their own reasons! Charles is loved for helping them with advice, homework, whatever they need and being the stricter parent needed for the troubled kids’ lives and Pickles is loved for being the laidback parent who genuinely takes interest in their interests and helps encourage them to follow their dreams.
Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? Neither; both are too busy in their own lives. Charles tried once for the hell of it. He realized it was the most difficult meeting he had ever sat through, even hosting meetings for Dethklok. Never again.
Who cried the most at graduation? - Pickles; he’s especially emotional about it if it’s the most troubled kids that invited them. Very proud of all the kids who remembered them enough to invite them to their graduations.
Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - Pickles-but he might fuck up in the process and Charles would have to bail them both out of jail-
Cooking:
Who does the most cooking? - There are klokateers for it but Charles does sometimes like to surprise Pickles with some of his favorite food!
Who is the pickiest in their food choice? - Charles; Pickles’ food palette is non-existent so he’s willing to eat anything. Charles? Not so much.
Who does the grocery shopping? - Neither; thank god for living in Mordhaus- (And even after that, they just hire someone to do it for them-)
How often do they bake desserts? - Fairly often, it’s become a pretty quick date night for them! They like to make macaroons, pies, or whatever they have their heart set and just enjoy the next few hours of getting some quality alone time.
Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - Meat all the way-
Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - Charles once again! Though Pickles does surprise with an anniversary dessert. It’s not really a surprise if they both know the other will cook them something but it’s the thought that counts!
Who is more likely to suggest going out? - Pickles; while it’s fun having small dates inside, he definitely suggests going someplace else whenever they have the time.
Who is more likely to burn the house down accidentally while cooking? - Toki
Chores:
Who cleans the room? - Charles cleans his own room, Pickles gets a klokateer to do it though recently he’s been cleaning his own room? Wow, Charles is rubbing off on him.
Who is really against chores? - Pickles; they can just hire help like the rich jackoffs, who the fuck needs to do chores?
Who cleans up after the pets? - They don’t have pets but it’d probably be Pickles.
Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - Pickles but thank God he’s never really asked to clean much-
Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - Charles
Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - Whatever klokateer cleans mordhaus and/or their house--
Misc:
Who takes the longer showers/baths? - Charles; he knows self-care very well and often makes sure his schedule has a few hours to himself so he can do just that! Definitely has fallen asleep in the bathtub more than once but Pickles luckily memorized his schedule haha
Who takes the dog out for a walk? - They both would! By the time they adopt a dog, they probably both would have time to do it together :)
How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - They hate the idea of it; probably hire klokateers or whoever to do it for them-
What are their goals for the relationship? - They just want to be able to complete the other without overstepping boundaries. There are probably things that both are afraid of bringing up or reminding the other. It’s no longer become a game of walking on eggshells because they have known each other for so long and know what their intentions will be. They aren’t going to change the other unless the other genuinely wants to change. They will simply help fill in the gaps the other lacks so naturally like they fit in together.
Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - Pickles, not that Charles lets him anyway-
Who plays the most pranks? - Pickles but even then the pranks are pretty rare or more of ways to get Charles out of the office (’Hey Charlie, Nathan is tryin’ to sneak a whale in his room again’ But then it turns out that Nathan really tried doing that so who knows if it was even a prank-)
#lampmeeting#Charles Offdensen#Pickles the Drummer#chickles#I'm surprised how long this came out slkjdf#but this got me focused so thank you so much for asking ;-;#I hope you enjoyed!!!
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In defense of Bluestar
So this is a popular topic in the Warriors fandom, calling Bluestar a bad character and giving some reasons.
I agree with most of those. She broke the Warrior Code just because she was horny (it was a literal one-night stand with Oakheart) and acted like an incredible prick towards Thistleclaw and Snowfur.
But with people saying stuff about ‘Lostface’ and how badly she reacted when she had depression I just can’t.
Bluestar had depression and possibly even dementia. She was delusional and clearly not in control. When people say that she was a terrible person because of the things that she did when she couldn’t control herself it’s honestly kind of illogical to me. The actions were terrible and she acted like a terrible person, but that doesn’t mean that she is a terrible person because of that!
Also about Lostface and all of the name changes. If they’re given with consent, they could be positive, like honoring the fact that the cat survived. It’s amazing to be able to get through something like that in the wild and name-changes celebrate that.
Let’s not forget that Warriors have a culture different from ours and that could definitely be plausible. They name themselves after their traits already, both physical and mental, which humans don’t. So I don’t see why naming someone after their most defining trait would be negative there (of course, as long as there’s consent, which there wasn’t in Brightheart’s case).
But wait! Some random person says. She shouldn’t have pushed her mental illness onto others, she was a leader! She should just push past it.
As I said before, Bluestar couldn’t control herself.
SO WHY THE FUCK WASN’T SHE JUST TAKEN OVER BY FIREHEART?
Seriously. Fireheart was already essentially a leader, I don’t think anyone would complain about a delusional, out of control leader being retired. The nine lives thing is bullshit. It changed how it worked multiple times in the series so the Erins could figure out a way to write around it, like a special ceremony to return the lives to StarClan.
Now that Bluestar is Bluefur and Fireheart is Firestar, no one is hurt, the Clan is in competent paws and not much changes. Bluefur still gets her moment of clarity and decides to sacrifice herself for ThunderClan and Firestar is still leader, but for a little longer.
Fireheart’s incredible incompetence when dealing with Bluestar was what allowed her to act out.
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The meme for Moxrider and William and Dorothey Kingsley.
I’m gonna do Moxrider in a separate post because this is long. Readmore for length.
How did they they meet?
At a bar whose location was convenient to the bootcamps and bases, so more often than not you’d get a smattering of people from all different corps in one place. Dottie only really went to make sure Bradford didn’t drink himself under, but she met William there. It wasn’t a love at first sight, but the two had electrifying chemistry.
Who developed romantic feelings first?
William, though it was more or less at the same time.
Who is their biggest “shipper?”
Bradford. God, he teased Kingsley ENDLESSLY about it, as she’d done the same to his ‘sweethearts of the week’ (a phrase she coined, not him.)
When did they have their first kiss and under what circumstances?
When they started dating semi-casually (Kingsley didn’t expect much, it was military life), more or less the first few days. It wasn’t anything special, and William wasn’t the first kiss Kingsley ever had.
Who confessed their feelings first?
William, the big softie.
What was their first official date?
Just a nice quiet café dinner and chat, honestly. Nothing big.
How do they feel about double dates/group dates?
Bradford joined them as the third wheel constantly when they went out, so, they didn’t mind so much.
What do they do in their down time?
God, the only time they probably HAD down time was when Kingsley had her first child, and that was, WAY ahead. Basically. Parenting.
What was the first meeting of parents as an official couple like?
Father Kingsley had the typical “I want what’s best for my daughter that being said if you so much as harm one (1) single hair on her head, William, I will break your spine.” talk, and Mother Kingsley could kill you with a smile, so, that went well for William. I joke, really. They loved him, they love them as a couple and he’s Bradford approved.
William’s father is a retired Air chief marshal, so. He approves of Kingsley. His mother on the other hand, wasn’t so keen on the couple at first. But, she supports her son.
What was their first fight over and how did they get past it?
William fought with Kingsley over how much work and stress she puts herself under. It wasn’t one that ever really got resolved, and it cropped up very frequently in their marriage, so, they didn’t get past it.
Which one is more easily made jealous?
Neither are really jealous people, but I suppose Kingsley if I HAVE to answer.
What is their favourite thing to get to eat?
Kingsley is damn keen on chocolate strawberries, and William had a sweet tooth for Turkish Delight
Who’s the cuddly one? What their favourite cuddling position?
WILLIAM. He loved to play the big spoon. Tiddies soft and warm. Hands perfect for grabbing. Kingsley loved it.
Are they hand holders?
In private, yes.
How long do they wait before sleeping together for the first time? What’s the circumstances?
Honestly, not that long. A week at best. As much as I joke Kingsley being old now, she was once young and horny, and sex is a good stress relief, especially in the kind of intense training they’re in. They hit it off well they messed around A LOT.
Who tops?
Kingsley, of course.
Who does the shopping and the cooking?
Whoever has the less work on their plate.
Which one is more organized and prone to tidiness?
Kingsley. It comes with the job.
Who proposes?
William, the traditional sap.
Do they have joined Bachelor/Bacheloette parties or separate?
Bradford hosted a bachelor party for William, just an excuse for The Military Boys(TM) to watch football and get shitfaced drunk. No girls involved there. Kingsley was more or less invited around halftime because they needed a designated driver and she hated (read: loved) them all.
Who is the best man/maid of honour? Any other groomsmen or bridesmaids?
Shit, Bradford would play both best man AND maid of honour if he could. Mainly just people in their respective units.
Big Ceremony or Small?
Small.
Do they have a honeymoon? If so, where?
They don’t have a honeymoon.
Do they have children? How many?
Six. William and Kingsley got, uh, quite busy.
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Toy Whorey
Night fell onto the house of Andy Davis. Twas the hours before he left this room for good.
He looked to his floor and found Sheriff Woodrow Pride, though as a kid he called him “Woody.”
“I know you'll be riding Bullseye forever in here… stay strong, ok?”
’How silly am I,’ he thought, ‘talking to a damn toy.’ But there was an unmistakable depression that washed over him. He hadn't really played with them for years. But he was struck with a need to play with them. One last time.
He got out all of his favorite toys: Jessie the Yodeling Cowgirl, Bo Peep, Hamm, Rex. Then he set the scene: it was sunrise in Arizona. Woody and Jessie are beginning a long day of chasing bandits and saving lives. And just in time too, because they find Bo Peep on the train tracks! And what’s worse, evil Rex is driving the train! But out of nowhere, Hamm, Bo Peep’s trusty sidekick, sprints to gnaw at the ropes tying her down.
It’s just too slow, he needs help! Jessie and Woody race to the rescue and like the expert marksman he is, he shoots the ropes off of Bo Peep, foiling Rex once again.
Meanwhile, in the minds of the toys, this was fucking torture. The night before he leaves, and he plays with us?! We’ve already waited so long and he has to tease us like this. Figures.
Every time Andy’s finger hovers over Woody’s woodpecker, it quivers and stiffens. Each firm hand around Jessie’s sensitive breasts makes her hotter. Hamm loooves biting, it makes him sizzle more than bacon. So biting Bo Peep’s ropes just makes it worse. And Rex is violent in bed; he will tie up his mate if she were already tied by another guy. He just wants her to be his.
And poor Bo Peep had it the worst. She was the queen of BDSM: she was the toy box’s dominatrix and coquettish prostitute all in one. She would fuck you up and she would let you fuck her up too. So when Andy tied her up, she just about fainted from anticipation.
At last, Andy was done. “Ok, little guys. I better hit the sack. I got an early drive tomorrow.” He suddenly got teary. “Damn… I’ll miss you guys.” He started sobbing, unable to hold back a 18 years of childhood emotion.
But the toys were getting fed the fuck up. They couldn't take it anymore.
Bo Peep sprang up: “Could your bitch ass shut the fuck up before my pussy starts to drown?”
Andy jumped back in fright, confusion, and a strange horniness, and told himself ‘I've been talking to my toys too long, there is a reason I stopped playing with them. I'm crazy, I'm going to bed.”
The toy chest was silent that night. No one dared to touch one another. They wanted the tension to build until it exploded in brilliance. One more night.
To all the toys, the next morning was an eternity. Andy got up 3 hours later than he needed to, and when he finally awoke his frantic attitude didn't make anyone less anxious.
But a lifetime later, Andy was… gone. He was actually gone. The box tentatively opened, no one really sure if this was real or not. But it was real. And it was time.
Buzz Lightyear began speaking. But his tone was much more light and free than before. “My friends, today is no ordinary day. Do not retire to your rooms tonight, do not go hide in the corner. Tonight, we are open. Tonight, the room is ours!”
Cheers erupted from the crowd as Buzz removed his suit and letting the twitch of his cock begin the ceremonies. Except this time, he would never put his suit back on.
Clothes were ripped away and thrown into the wind. All the toys ran out into the fresh air of Andy’s room like wild dogs.
Mr and Mrs Potato head looked at eachother for a moment, and swiftly both ran the opposite direction. Mrs Potato head was going to get to bond with Bo Peep today. She always wanted to taste taco.
Mr Potato head was so excited to hook up with Hamm. They had been eyeing eachother for years, admiring both their luscious curves and delicious skin. Finally, the entree was complete.
Hamm wasted no time. He bent MPH over and stuck is already lubed cock into his asshole. Hamm bites into his ass like the potato slut he is.
Meanwhile, Bo Peep is taking her time with Mrs Potato Head. Caressing her nipples, nibbling on them, before kissing all the way down her body and plunging into her pussy.
Not far away, the sarge and the bucket o’ soldiers are amidst their own wild fuckfest. War is hell.
The Little Green Men are aggressively rubbing their ears together, their alien genitalia pulsing like a quasar.
Buttercup the Unicorn is sticking his fuck horn into Trixie the Triceratops’ quivering Dino pussy.
Slinky has Bullseye wrapped snugly between his body as he facefucks the horse senseless.
On one hand, Barbie is in a lesbian daisy chain with dozens of other Barbies, and on the other, hundreds of Kens are running the train on Barbie’s bae.
Buzz, the man who started it all, is demolishing Wheezy the penguin. Buzz gets off at any sex noise (probably because he misses noise whenever he’s up in space) and the high pitched, strained squeals that are Wheezy’s moans drives Buzz crazy.
And on Andy’s bed, towering over it all, is Rex. Below him, he has tied up Woody and Jessie and is about to shove his puny T. Rex arms into both subject’s assholes.
This festival of lust would last for 4 more years straight. Every man and woman was in ecstasy.
Then Andy came back. Fuck.
THE END
submitted by /u/adanhensley
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from FanFiction: Where Magical Ponies battle Imperial Titans http://ift.tt/2xGDEtA
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