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wifeyoozi · 2 days

Text

Kim Mingyu : Best Friend Rule 57

w.c : 1.6 k ┊ synopsis : the 57th rule of the bestfriend rule book states, "thou must giveth a head to thy bestie in the time of need." ┊ content warning : smut ,, best friends to ...?? ,, blowjobs ,, gn!reader ,, coming down the throat

a/n : mdni !! not completely beta read. This is just me being horny af for mingyu recently.

This is fine, Mingyu thinks. He has shared rooms before. He has shared rooms with you before as well – with his best friend and, for a long while now, his crush. He could do this. He forces his focus on the sappy rom-com movie playing on the cable TV in the hotel room from the fact that you are pressed closed against him on the hotel bed, sharing packet popcorn with him. You are mostly eating it, he's barely even watching the movie.

Some time ago after you settled on the bed beside him, you'd huddled over to him, “Gyu, scoot over. The TV is kinda weird, I can't see properly unless I'm looking right from the centre,” You said as you snuggled against him.

Snuggled against him, until you were pressing your bare thighs to his clothed ones and your arms pressed up till there was a thin sweaty layer in between, your head resting on his shoulder.

He tried to change his position a little, gripping on the comforter tighter around his waist, just hoping you wouldn't notice his, well, little developing problem in his sweatpants.

The movie ended too soon after that and you sighed, “fun movie to waste a Saturday on, no?”

Mingyu hums, about to suggest another movie, because he's a sucker in love who'd spend two more hours suffering in silence in his pants to spend some quality time with his crush.

Instead, you opened your phone screen, reading a text, “uh, the team is doing a campfire night, you wanna join? They brought beer and all.”

“Uhm, no I'll pass tonight. A little tired,” Mingyu said with a smile as you stood up and yawned, stretching your limbs a little. The last thing he wants is to take his little problem outside this room to the rest of the coed basketball team. He'd never heard the end of it from soonyoung, and the thought alone makes him wanna die already.

He watched as you stretched your arms, your shirt sticking tight to your chest, your nipples pebbled under prominently visible. He has never looked away faster. Were you not wearing anything under that flimsy shirt? Were you planning to go to the rest of the team like that? The thought simultaneously made mingyu jealous and turned on and he tried not to let either show up on his face.

“Alright, suit yourself! Don't miss me too much,” you said, winking playfully as you walked outside the room, closing the door behind you.

Mingyu let out a big breath he didn't know he had been holding. He shakes his head before getting up and leaving to the bathroom briefly to get the box of tissues papers. He didn't have lube – of course he wouldn't bring one to his college’s basketball team picnic – so his spit would have to do.

He sighed, taking his aching dick out finally. It's not his ideal style. The bedsheet is scratchy and cold and the headboard hits his head at an awkward angle, but he shifts himself till he's fairy comfortable.

He pulls his shirt to his armpits, fingers of his one hand brushing over his nipple as he spits over his other hand and takes his dick. He gives himself a few lazy strokes, trying to bring his dick to a full erection. He glanced over to where you say beside him, impulsively grabbing your pillow and putting it against his face. Just as he imagined, your perfume lingered on the fabric of it.

He wasn't in a hurry, he knew you would take time if you were going to drink with the boys. He had plenty time.

He thought of you as he stroked himself sensually, occasionally reaching up and flicking and pinching his nipples. He feels intoxicated by your scent in him. He tugs off his boxers till it's pooled around his ankles. He slowly increases his speed, his thumb pressing over the tip where the precum leaked.

He was getting closer to his releasing, your name softly leaving his lips in whimpering whispers.

He heard the door open. Shit.

He has the exact time to either pull down his shirt or pull up his pants before you'd be face to face with him.

Not being able to think properly with his fogged mind, he chose to pull down his shirt instead, leaving his fisted cock out in the open for you to see when you entered.

Your eyes widened, a brown bag in your hand, “i, uhm, thought that, uhm, I'd get us some take out.”

You're flustered, but not as much as him. He is completely frozen, his hand doing little to hide anything about the size or hardness of his cock.

“I-i uhm,”

“That's okay!” You rushed in to say, “I, uhm, I'm your age too! People have, err, urges! That's completely normal, y’know.”

Mingyu is strongly aware of your gaze over his penis as you keep the bag of take out on the floor and climb on the bed beside him. He retreats back of shyness, bringing his knees closer to conceal himself a little.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, “uhm, y/n-”

“Shit, you're, like, so big, mingyu,” you chuckle breathily, pushing his knee away. Mingyu would almost think that it was yet one of his sick fantasies, except it wasn't. Mingyu was aware and proud of his well endowed body, but he never knew the things it would do to him hearing it from you. Suddenly mingyu didn't know what words were.

“Should I help you?” you ask him as if you were offering coffee, “friends help each other, right?”

Friends help each other. Friends help each other with a fucking erections.

“Y/n,” mingyu shudders as your finger gently hovers over his red angry tip. He'd meant to say, don't say stuff you don't mean or will regret later. Instead, the words that slip his tongue are, “don't tease.”

You chuckle slightly, “okay, gyu, I won't,” taking a firm grip of his cock above his own fist. A breathy moan leaves his lips. You meet his eyes once, staring deep before looking back at his dick, “gyu, do you think I can fit your dick in my mouth?”

And that is how kim mingyu (born 1997, sex male) died at the tender age of 21. The team would have to carry his body tomorrow. His tomb stone would say, died of blowjob offers. Mingyu thinks – nevermind, Mingyu can't think anymore. His brain is fogged up with the thought of your pretty pink lips around his cock. Fuck.

“You can try,” he mutters softly. He takes his hand off his dick, allowing you full access. You pushed your hair back and wrapped your soft lips around his head. No foreplay, no kitten licks, no jerking him off. You took him in his mouth directly, pushing your head down till you felt his dick filling up your mouth.

You sucked on the length in your mouth, wrapping your hand the remainder of what you couldn't fit in your mouth. Mingyu groaned, his hands grippinng the sheets tightly. Your mouth was hot and warm and wet. So fucking wet. Your technique is a bit sloppy, but mingyu loves it nonetheless. He'd love anything with you and his dick in a single picture.

You take out his dick from your mouth, looking up at him with red lips and flushed face. Fuck, are you pretty.

“Shit, I didn't know it was this hard,” you say, chuckling, “sucking a dick, I mean. You are as hard as it can be.”

“You've… never given a blowjob before?”

“No, why would I?” It was a dumb question on his end, dumber on yours. Neither of you was thinking straight about it though, so it's fine.

“friends can help each other,” he thoughtlessly echoed your words.

“Well, not any friend,” you chuckled. “You're my best friend, gyu!”

Mingyu momentarily wondered if you were even hearing yourself. It felt like a unspoken bestie rule mingyu was unaware about till now, that you must give your best friend a head in time of need. Because you seemed so serious like this was a normal best-friends activity to do, casually sucking their dick.

“Can you shift here? The angle is awkward like this, I think I can take it better if I kneel in front of you,” you tell him, motioning towards the end of the bed. He nods without even bothering to think, shifting at the edge of the bed till his legs hungoff the bed. You shifted on the floor, in between his legs. You looked up at him, taking his leaking erection in your hand and placing it in your mouth.

You forced your gag reflexes to relax and took him as deep in your throat as you could, till your nose was buried in his pubic hair. You sucked him off genuinely, eyes staring deep into his the whole time. He held your hair back, guiding your head to bob up and down on him. He threw his head back, moaning shamelessly despite being aware of the cheap hotel walls as he recieved what felt like one of the best blowjobs he's ever had.

It didn't take long for him to cum spilling down your throat.

“Shit, I'm sorry,” he took out his dick as you choked on his cum, the remainder of it spurting on your lips and cheeks. You coughed a little but swallowed his cum. Mingyu looked at you with wide eyes, realising what you did.

You grab a tissue paper from the bedside table and wipe your mouth. You flash him a smile, “I'll take a quick shower and then we could continue watching another movies while eating the take outs. Why don't you pick this time?”

“Aren't you going for the drinks by the bonfire with the rest of the team?” Mingyu asks dumbly.

“Nahh, I'll pass. Soonyoung and Chan always end up getting super drunk, causing a mess,” you say, getting up to head to the shower.

If Mingyu saw a super wet spot in your shorts and that made his dick twitch, it's nobody's business.

Though he would be down to give you a head if you needed it after your shower. Isn't that what the besties do after all!

#svt #seventeen #svt smut #svt x reader #mingyu #kim mingyu #svt mingyu #mingyu x reader #mingyu x you #mingyu smut #mingyu imagines #best friend mingyu #just filthy mingyu smut #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader

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leilanihours · 2 days

Note

Anything with Kate Martin pleaseee!

# GOLD RUSH

pairing: kate martin x teammate!reader

word count: 1780

warnings: none !

summary: kate being the cutest most adoring girlfriend ever while you get ready on live !

from lani: this was heavily inspired by this video bc kate actually might be the cutest human to ever walk the earth ty

"WHAT IS UP guys, welcome back to yet another game day prep," you greet to the camera propped against the mirror in front of you, "today we are going up against lsu, so there's gonna be a lot of tension in the arena today."

user1: hi y/nnnn

user2: is caitlin there?

user3: team lsu lol

user4: y/n what shampoo/conditioner do u use??

it's become a tradition for you to go live and do a little "get ready with me" on the most highly-anticipated gamedays, as you wanted to get fans excited for the face-off.

the first one you hosted got lots of love, viewers falling in love with your bubbly personality and witty remarks to your teasing teammates.

you were currently in your hotel bathroom, one you shared with your teammate, gabbie marshall. but all the girls have borderline separation anxiety, leading to half the team hanging out in your room as you all prepare yourselves for the game.

"are you on live?" you hear a voice whisper. turning your head, you see kate peeking hers into the bathroom a small smile on her face.

"yeah," you reply sweetly, "you wanna say hi?"

she nods, immediately sliding the door open to join you.

"looks like we have a special cameo today, folks, y'all got lucky," you laugh

"hi, live, how you guys doin?" kate says.

as you begin doing your skincare, you see kate take a seat on the closed toilet in the corner, carefully observing your routine.

"you okay, babe?" you ask with a grin once you notice her puppy-dog like stare. the nickname slips from your lips like first nature, appearing cordial to the camera but the two of you know the hidden meaning.

user1: help kate looks so starstruck wtf shes adorable

user2: omg wait i use that same moisturizer

user3: "BABE"?

user4: not kate just sitting on a damn toilet LMAOO

you and kate have always been close, ever since your freshman year at iowa. on the court you two bounce off of each other's energy constantly, frequently managing to raise the stakes of the game.

fans have noticed it too, of course, with proud taps after one of you makes a shot and suspiciously long post-game hugs.

the team is fully aware of your private relationship, respecting your wishes of secrecy. there have been pointed questions from reporters and interviewers, but you all know how to dodge a personal question one way or another.

a few minutes go by of you telling a funny story from the bus ride to the hotel, consisting of caitlin getting caught on video singing horribly off-key. with promises of posting the recording later that evening, you and kate both laugh at the memory.

as you start on your light makeup look, you begin reading some comments popping up on your screen.

user1: thoughts on reese and clarks rivalry??

user2: wheres caitlin and gabbie

user3: y/n can u say hi alyssa

user4: what are your guys' top 3 music artists

"'thoughts on reese and clark's rivalry?'" you read, "i mean, they've said it before, there's no bad blood between them, just some good old basketball competition," you state with a small smile as you start blending in a light layer of skin tint.

"yeah, i mean some light-hearted teasing and trash-talking always makes a game more fun in my opinion," kate chimes in, "especially when it leads to an increase in viewership."

"for sure, for sure," you smirk at her in the corner of your eye, sneakily suggesting your own dating rumors circulating before every game.

"'top three music artists?'" kate reads, "dude, mine changes 24/7 so i have no idea anymore."

"ooo," you contemplate the question as you look up in thought, "gotta be taylor swift...sza...anddd frank ocean? no, kehlani! wait actually-"

"i don't think you know either, y/n," kate laughs.

"oh whatever," you say, rolling your eyes playfully, "speaking of music, can you put some on?"

"i gotchu," kate responds, picking up her phone to connect to the bluetooth speaker on the counter.

soon enough, you hear the familiar tune of "gold rush" by taylor swift, a song publicly known to be your favorite (kate knows this, naturally, which is why she played it first).

once she notices your stretched grin and quiet hum to the lyrics, she mirrors your expression, feeling light in her chest at the sight of your happiness.

she stands up from her spot on top of the toilet seat, slowly coming up behind you to observe you even closer.

the two of you make eye contact in the mirror, immediately blushing and smiling like madmen. and, of course, nothing goes unnoticed by the live watchers so comments of you two rush in.

user1: aww the way they smile at each other im crying

user2: okay when is it my turn to get a gf like y/n or kate 😢

user3: not kate stealing my gf..

user4: they gotta be dating right??

you and kate scan over the messages, trying to keep a straight face as to not give away anything.

"kate can you do me a favor and get my setting spray from my suitcase? its in a clear bottle with a pink cap," you ask her, but shes too entranced by your beauty to hear.

"sorry, what was that?"

you giggle, "my setting spray please?"

"oh! okay, be right back, guys!"

you return your focus to your makeup and the song playing, the melodies too addicting for you to not sing along.

as kate comes back into the fairly spacious bathroom, you thank her for getting your spray, placing it on the marble counter. she reclaims her spot behind you, continuing to watch you work as if you were the most interesting movie she'd ever seen.

she wishes she could place her arms around your waist and rest her chin on your shoulder to whisper sweet words into your ear. sadly, for the sake of your private relationship, she had to settle for admiring from afar (which is really only like a foot away from you).

"y/n!" you hear one of the girls call out from the bedroom, "can i borrow your eyebrow gel? i forgot mine in my room!"

"sure, it's in here, come grab it!" you yell back. a few seconds later, jada comes sauntering into the bathroom, immediately taking notice of kate's presence and the phone displaying your every action.

"oh my gosh, heyy livee," she smiles, waving her fingers at the camera.

user1: omg jada ilysm

user2: still waiting on catilin tbh

user3: JADA!!

user4: my fav girls :((

as you apply small amounts of blush to your cheeks, jada stands next to you fixing up her eyebrows wih your gel. and, yes, kate is still behind the both of you. she has begun to fix her hair into her signature ponytail braid, quickly maneuvering her dirty-blonde locks with ease after working the style for so long.

"my teammates are so prettayy," she exclaims to the livestream once she'd finished with her hair.

"you're prettyy," jada replies, singing.

"pretty beautiful," kate sings back while you're simply giggling at the girls' antics.

you're too concentrated on curling your lashes correctly to notice that kate was specifically gazing at you with that last comment, nothing but pure love and admiration behind her words.

jada, who is now out of the frame and catching kate's longing stare in your direction, turns around to face her, mouthing: "you're so whipped."

kate playfully shoves her out the bathroom and returns to her former seat on the toilet.

"okay, guys, sorry we haven't been talking to y'all that much," you say as you step back from the mirror, "the last step of my makeup look is to apply some setting spray that, thankfully, the lovely kate martin has gotten for me."

"wait, can i do it?" kate asks, eager to help you out.

"yeah, come over here," you respond.

kate shoots up and over to you and takes the bottle from your hand. her fingers brush against yours for a split second, sending a tingly feeling throughout your body. at this point, you don't even need to put blush on, kate's subtle touches bringing more than enough color to your face.

"i'll tell you when to stop, okay?"

"okay, close your eyes for me," kate mumbles, putting a delicate hand on your shoulder.

obliging, you feel light spritzes of mist fall on your face as kate controls the bottle nervously, not wanting to mess up.

"don't t hold back, i'll tell you when it's good, don't worry," you laugh.

almost a whole minute goes by, which slightly concerns your girlfriend.

"more??" she exclaims.

finally, you tell her you've received a good amount, opening your eyes to look at her. you're instantly met those blue eyes youve grown so fond of. and again, you can't keep the smile off your face when she maintains eye contact in an irritatingly addictive manner. you practically forget about the phone pointed on the two of you, stuck in your own worlds.

"gametime, guys, let's go!" you hear a voice echo, snapping the two of you out of your trances.

user1: OMG WAS THAT CAITLIN

user2: i know my wifes voice when i hear it

user3: are we just gonna ignore the eye contact between kate and y/n??

user4: yall r so delusional lmaoo

returning to your phone, you pick it up off the mirror and follow kate out of the bathroom.

"okay, guys, hopefully you enjoyed today's live," you cheer, "make sure to tune in to espn tonight to watch the game!"

you hear an overlap of voices, each one saying goodbye to the viewers.

"bye live! see you soon!" from kate.

"bye my lovely people!" from gabbie.

"mwah love you guys see y'all at the game!" from jada.

"go hawkeyes!" from caitlin.

you snicker as you watch more and more comments about caitlin pour in, your followers going crazy at a small glimpse of their favorite athlete.

as soon as you end the live, everyone begins rushing out of your hotel room and down to the lobby to wait for the bus. hurriedly, you grab your backpack and make your way towards the door, but an eager hand pulls you back.

before you know it, a set of soft lips is placed against your own and two hands are glued to your waist. instead of jumping in surprise, you immediately melt into the kiss, finding comfort in your girlfriend's familiar embrace.

"sorry," she blushes once you pull away, "been wanting to do that all day."

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liveontelevision · 23 hours

Note

I saw someone do headcanons on Lucifer and I know you'd write it perfectly. They basically said that if you were to ignore him, he'd practically BEG and WHINE like a bitch to have you talk to him. Even if it's telling him he's pathetic. As long as he hears your voice.

Ofc don't feel pressured to do this if you're busy or anything else, Ily🫶🏻🫶🏻 keep up the great work! :]

OKAY MORE SMUT (seriously, mdni 18+)

Sorry this one took forever but I'm prettyyy sure it's worth it. Let's just say this is Lucifer discovering some new things about himself :D

And ILY THANKS FOR THE REQUEST BBG

Ignorance is Bliss | Lucifer x Reader

♡♡♡

Becoming comfortable with the King of Hell as his partner was easy. He made sure to cater to all your needs and give you everything you asked for. Overall, Lucifer was a sweetheart and a gentleman. And this was especially the case in bed. Considering his immense powers, he was giddy to fulfill any of your fantasies you'd have, no matter how bizarre. After being with him for long enough, fantasies dissolved into curiosities. Some nights became spicing things up in the bedroom in ways that you'd never consider, just to see how much you could handle. Now? you wanted to see how much he could handle.

Neither of you were comfortable with bringing intimacy to the public, not without proper care, at least. But what if you could work him up in a way only you knew about? Tease him throughout the day? How desperate could you make him without touching him? You couldn't recall where you picked up this idea, maybe somewhere online at some point. Knowing how deeply devoted he was to you, he was sure to hold a great reaction to this.

You were together when the hotel was renovated, so it was an easy transition for you. Everyone already aware of your relationship and loving you in turn made your afterlife seem like less of a punishment.

His top priority was your comfort when you both moved. He made sure to be close to you in group settings, keeping a hand on you at almost all times. Whether that be a hand on your thigh or the small of your back, or simply having his fingers intertwined in yours, it felt like a relief for both of you.

But with this little act you were pulling, you would lean away from his touch, and make excuses to disappear for the afternoon. Or in the halls, where he'd usually greet you with a quick kiss or I love you, you'd pull out your phone as you approached him, or simply smiled with your eyes barely looking his direction. He would swear, if anyone asked, that this wasn't bugging him one bit. Not. At. All. You were all his at the end of the day, you could treat him however you want and he'd submit. He's fine. He's acting fine.

When it came to the hotel, there weren't many demons jumping at the chance of redemption in the beginning, so some nights turned into drinks, games, and music. You felt so incredibly lucky to be a part of this family, your eyes scanning across the room and taking in just the pure enjoyment of everyone around you. The center of it all tonight was Lucifer. He was going on about some fantastical story that involved a circus in some other ring of Hell, that then evolved into sharing baby photos of Charlie. His eyes always sparkled when he would talk about his daughter. You loved her too, of course, but your heart always fluttered when his admiration would show.

Still, you had that little experiment to play with tonight. As Lucifer went on about his stories, either entertaining demons with their content or his ridiculous retellings, everyone was drawn in. Not to mention, he was drunk and was acting like a fool, so he was even entertaining Alastor. With one foot on the barstool and the other propped on the counter, he acted out some ridiculous story that you paid no mind to. In fact, you made it a point to not react to anything, despite how intense he was becoming. You'd look down at your phone as he spoke. Or you'd start some random conversation with Husk, who really could care less, but he at least responded to you.

Keeping your eyes off of him was a challenge, but you could tell he was trying to get your attention when he'd brag about something. With no response, he would stutter mid-sentence, then change the topic after not getting the reaction he wanted out of you. With each ignorant glance, he took a swig of his drink.

He was seated after that, being scolded for scuffing the tables with his heels. That's when the ridiculous jokes began. You loved his jokes! You could listen to them all day, even laughing when he told you the same joke over and over. But not tonight, you had to remind yourself. You bit your tongue and sucked in your lips to hide any smile or laughter that might pass through. Still avoiding looking in his direction entirely, Lucifer was suddenly silenced. You looked up at him through half lidded eyes, then back down to your screen, mindlessly scrolling through essentially nothing. Charlie was quick to distract him with a story, he was nodding along and smiling as best he could for her. The party dwindled, leaving you, Lucifer and Husk.

“I-uh.. think our royal highness has had enough. You should take him to bed, kid.” Husk finally draws your attention to Lucifer, who has laid his head on the countertop, incoherently mumbling. You sigh and nod, taking his drink from his hand and rising to your feet. Just barely touching his shoulder, he immediately straightens his posture.

“Good call, kitty!” He had a habit of calling Husk that when he wasn't entirely there, it made both of you cringe, “Bedtime, my love?” He takes a hold of your hand in both of his and you have to remind yourself this is just for fun. The endgame has to be worth it. You pull away, already walking through the portal he had created when he was talking. He looked at you as you stood in your shared room, still seated at the bar. Finally turning, you sigh and place your hands on your hips.

“C’mon, Lucifer.” You said absentmindedly, using a beckoning finger to draw him in. He eagerly jumped from his seat following you in, even with his chest aching. You didn't normally use his name. Usually it was darling, or my love, or good boy if he was acting accordingly. He takes a hold of your arm as the portal shuts, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, then running small pecks along the length of your arm, stopping at the start of your shoulder. You let out a small, almost nervous sounding chuckle, before reeling back.

“Didn't see you around the hotel today, darling. Did you do anything fun?” Lucifer sways as he speaks. Maybe small talk would help? He was trying his hardest to act casual and keep a clear conscience considering how much alcohol he’s had at this point. You shake your head, pulling your top off. You decide to sort through your clothes long enough to let Lucifer catch the sight of you bent at the hips, rummaging through a dresser drawer while topless. You could hear him gulp. He starts the same way, but struggles with the buttons on his vest.

“L-love, I might need-” his intoxication is clear in his voice at this point. After throwing on some sort of silky slip, you sigh and turn your attention to him. Looking down and fiddling with the buttons, he begins to lose his balance and finds himself leaning against a wall for stability. You approach him silently, and easily undo each of his buttons. You'd be lying if this alone wasn't making your stomach flutter. Even then, it was easy to keep your cool after seeing that he was clearly enjoying this too much. You notice his labored breathing as he braces his arms against the wall, allowing you to run your hands across his bare chest and slipping his shirt and vest to the ground with some maneuvering. You keep your hands at his hips for a moment, he lifted his pelvis away from the wall, maybe hoping for some kind of friction. You were lingering barely an inch away from his lips. Hearing the smallest whimper seemed to remind you of your mission, so you quickly pulled away.

“Good night, Lucifer~” just that sentence alone sent him spinning. Your lips so close to him and your voice so smooth, he was beginning to enjoy the sound of his name in your mouth.

More. He needs more.

As you crawled under the covers, you made it a point to hum and moan as you stretched and settled in. Pulling your phone back up to your face, you barely had time to look at anything before a clawed hand had slowly pushed your device down, revealing a very red-faced Lucifer.

“Is something wrong, love? Can I.. help you?” He was genuinely worried. You almost felt guilty at that moment. With a final sigh, you set your phone aside and cupped his hot to the touch cheek in your hand. He immediately let the weight of his head fall into your hands, humming contently at the long overdue contact. Still, you shake your head in response to him, keeping your lips sealed. His lip finally starts to quiver and he lets out a shaky breath.

“Please, I need your voice, love.. I miss it- I miss you.” He almost breaks you, so you decide to reward him for this display at least. You silently press a kiss against his eager lips. He's ready to pull you in and ravish you with that alone, he’d do anything to hear your voice. You pull away. He tries making connections in his foggy mind, tracing through the past few days to see if there was anything he might’ve done for you to be this cruel to him. He can't think of any wrong doings, but.. he'll do anything.

“P-please? darling?” He stammers out, continuing to crawl towards you and sitting prettily on your lap. The view itself drove you mad. You could keep your lips sealed, but you couldn't prevent the blush becoming apparent across your cheeks. He hums, satisfied with this reaction at least.

“I don't know what's going on with you, but.. I love you.” Oh, shit. “.. I love you~” He repeats.

You keep your eyes away from him. This one was a struggle.

“T-That’s fine, don't tell me about your day.. o-or laugh at my jokes, but, darling-” he turns your head to face him, a hand lightly bringing you forward by your chin, you notice his eyes glowing. “I love you.”

…

Fine.

“I love you, too.” You said it quietly, a hint of defeat in your tone. He immediately perks up, shifting his grasp on your chin to thumb at your jaw, nearly encompassing your throat with his hand. Closing the already very small gap between your lips, he eagerly explores your mouth with his forked tongue. You yelp into his lips in surprise, before pushing him away carefully, seeing how much of a mess you've made him from just that phrase.

“Lucifer, that wasn't very nice, was it? You have to ask.” You said sternly, sitting up to rest your back on the headboard and pulling him with you to keep him seated on your thighs.

“W-Wha.. Ask? To kiss you? Well that seems.. rather…” He questions with a nervous laughter, waiting for the punchline. You only nod your head in agreement.

“Well.. can I kiss you, then..?” He asks awkwardly. It was cute enough, But this wasn't your original vision.

“Mmmm- no.” Making a big show out of tapping your chin and letting your eyes wander around the room, you finally look back at him.

“What? Oh- um.. please?” He clarifies, a now nervous smile present on his face.

“Please, what?” You start running your hands across his abdomen, letting them interlock behind his back and pulling him just a bit closer.

“C-can I kiss you.. please..?” You thought he'd be agitated at this point, but his voice is dripping with desperation. He likes it. You see his hips shifting just above your thighs.

“Hm. Maybe.. I just don't think you want it enough, my love.” You say sweetly, pouting as if you felt any remorse. You ran your hands up his chest, then back down his sides, brushing your fingers just slightly below his belt. He huffs.

“Sweetheart! I-I do want it! please..? I want you, p-please..” He finally moans out, panting heavily only from your hands along his bare skin. You couldn't help but smile, and finally give him what he wants. With a gentle kiss onto his lips, it's clear that he's shaking with anticipation. He wasn't jumping you like before or taking the lead to suffice his own desires. It's as if he was waiting for permission. You weren't going to give in that easily, though.

You pulled away after that single kiss, looking at him like you had just asked a question and were waiting for a proper response. Finally catching his breath, he braces himself up by keeping his hands on your shoulders. He looks at you with the sweetest puppy eyes, shifting his weight on his knees to ease the growing discomfort pressed in his pants.

“More, my love.. I need more- I-I need you to-” He's still rambling. You hum, letting the hand that had been sitting on his hip palm at the bulge in his pants. You learn forward, pressing your lips against his skin and running your tongue up his neck. He shivers, the sudden sensations after being ignored for so long already forces a pathetic sound from him, music to your ears. Your kisses become sloppy, and your little nips will surely bruise and shine by the next morning.

“I-I want- ahh~” He’s keeping up with it? You thought for sure this little game of yours had ended. You won and you're giving him the attention he finally needs, yet he's still begging for you? “talk to me.. darling-” he chokes out, moving his hands that had been tightly gripping your shoulders to cup your cheeks. You were pulled back by his touch, a slightly shocked expression on your face. “Please.” His eyes were brimming with tears. A single line of golden blood and saliva dripped from his mouth from biting a little too hard on his lip, in an attempt to keep his noises at bay. You moved your hands away from his buldge, which had accumulated a wet spot onto his trousers, then went back to trailing your fingers across his skin again.

“Okay.” You respond. He perks up at your acceptance, the little sparkle in his eyes brings a smile to your face. “Since you asked so nicely.” you said sweetly, “So.. how badly did you miss me? Only a few days like this and you’re already a mess.. did you miss our little conversations? My voice?” You question softly, brushing your thumb across his cheek to wipe away some stressed tears that had fallen. He nods, holding onto your hand and burying his cheek into your palm.

“-My touch?” You massage his hip, letting your hand drift closer to the clasps on his pants. He nodded again, much more eagerly this time. “Hm. Good.” with one final kiss to his lips, you push him to the side, swapping your positions, to where you were hovering over him with your arms caging him in. He barely has time to process the quick switch, before feeling your hands tug his pants. He's moaning at the sensation alone, holding onto whatever he could find, gripping your wrist in one hand and balling up the sheets in his other.

You linger above him, your lips just above his. You could feel him panting heavily against you, even before touching him. You'd normally be passionately entangled at this point, But here, you got the chance to see his face. You were enjoying taking your time with this one.

“You're being such a good boy for me.. you're doing so well.” Your eyes flutter shut to capture him in another heavy kiss, and you reach unto his pants, planning to slowly relieve his stress. A sudden request leaves his mouth, stopping you for a moment.

“N-no..! Nono.. love, my name. Use my name- please..” He's shaking his head, finally mustering the courage to make his request. Another new development. God, he was perfect. You move to his jaw, pressing kisses up to his ear before breathing heavily against it.

“Lucifer-” you finally say. He lets out a pathetic whimper, clamping his grip down onto your wrist and bucking his hips into your sudden, yet tantalizingly slow, palming. “You're doing so good for me, Lucifer. My Lucifer. My sweet, Luci~” you mutter into his skin, beginning to pump your hand a bit faster. He is doing so good for you, afterall, he deserves it.

This wasn't the only game you wanted to play tonight. you wanted to fully take care of your poor neglected king after all you've put him through. After toying with him for long enough, edging him from release each time, you finally let him rest. You pull away, after bringing him to the brink and tearing him away each time, you were reveling in his pretty tears. All the senses you were enrapturing suddenly put to a halt, forced him to look at you desperately. You fully dismount him, leaving him nude under your gaze. Slightly embarrassed, he pulls his legs together. You rest your hands gently on the top of knees.

“I’ll need both tonight, Luci.” You say casually. This was something you've tried before, and it was definitely due for a second round. You felt he needed the extra love. He nodded, his face completely heating up. walking your fingers across his legs and helping him take his trousers completely off, you were treated with the pretty sight of his already soaked pussy, that sat quite nicely below his already overstimulated cock. The combination of his two sexes was enough to drive a whimper even from you. You quickly dip down, your own desperation meeting his. After bringing him to the brink beforehand but not letting him finish, it wasn't long before he was squirming and whimpering under your touch.

Even with all that, he was still begging you for more. Drunk off his juices already, you ran your tongue up from his folds, flicking at his clit, then sending a heated trail right up to the head of his cock. he arches his back into the full exposure, and you have to keep your hands on his thighs to keep his legs from shutting. The agonizing moans and gasps he was letting out only made you want to hear more. Hastily pushing three fingers into his entrance, his voice cracked out some resemblance of your name. He doesn't use his other sex often, so when you get the chance to eat your fill, he's almost always struggling to keep any composure. pumping his cock in one hand, you skillfully pump and curl your fingers into him with the other, all the while maneuvering your tongue and lips to suction onto his clit.

“Mm-! I-I can't- ahha- take… anymore- m-mmy love-” He's stammering. You pull away for a moment to let out a single phrase,

“What do you say, Lucifer?” Before continuing your brutal overstimulation. Only hearing more whimpers, you slowed your motions, waiting for a proper response. You only speed up your movements, after keeping your thumb lightly pressed against the top of his head.

“P-Please-” he shoots his head back into the pillows, his legs already shaking. “Please, can I-I-” You hum against him, sending a mild vibration that still made a big impact, before lifting your thumb just slightly.

“You may, Lucifer.” You run your tongue across his entirety again, enclosing his cock into your mouth and taking in his final thrusts.

Still whimpering and gasping, you continue to bob your head, moving slow circles across his clit, and causing his body to fully tremor beneath you.

You finally sit up, enjoying the view beneath you, while wiping away anything that you didn't manage to already swallow. Even with his eyes closed from the pure exhaustion, he's muttering your name under his breath. You still don't know how you managed to get this lucky, so you appreciate his drunken appearance for a moment longer before cleaning him up and eventually settling him under the covers. You hold him tight to your chest, your limbs intertwined. Even with immense angelic power, he returns your embrace weakly, with shaky arms.

“I love you, Lucifer.” You hum, pressing a kiss onto his forehead while brushing some hair from his face. He's still catching his breath, “Luci-” you say just as sweetly. He barely opens his eyes to meet your gaze, still silent. With a gentle grip on his chin, you pull him upwards to fully face you. “I love you~” You repeat.

“Mmn- love you.. dear…” He grumbles, still clearly dazed from the events of the night. Running your thumb along his lower lip, you muffle his tired moan with a kiss, before letting him rest his chin comfortably against your chest. You’d say your little experiment was a success. And you're sure Lucifer learned a lesson along the way; He has to ask for what he wants.

♡♡♡

Hope you like intersex lucifer bc I recently discovered I LOVE INTERSEX LUCIFER

More requests and the next part to Suffer is comin' up soon 🫶

!Taglist!

( @vififofum / @thornwolfy235 / @tinywolfiegirl / @chipper-chip / @bat-boness / @misfitgirlwrites / @nayomi247 / @lonelynmisunderstood / @escapistoftherealworld / @b4ts1e / @hamthepan / @kyo-kyo1 / @looking1016 / @polytheatrix / @littledolly2345 / @lillianastuff / @yourlocalcryptidbee /@0strawberrysorbet0 / @themageofblood / @jayyyayaysblog / @floralsightings / @azmosposts / @8har0ley8 / @actuallyspiderwoman / @sirenetheblogger / @christineblood / @kaytemchugh / @cimadreamer / @simpdevil66 / @azmosposts / @m3ow1 / @acrazyartist / @redfoxwritesstuff / @4k1to / @meesachan / @corvusskid / @alientee /@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx / @alon3lylov3r /@sapphireravensworld / @mjmdragons / @catticora )

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #lucifer morningstar #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fandom #lucifer hazbin #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel smut #lucifer x you smut #lucifer x you #lucifer x reader smut #lucifer x reader #hazbin lucifer x reader

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maidenvault · 2 days

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Okay so, Crosshair’s hand.

Has anyone pointed this out? When Crosshair kills Nolan, he doesn't use his shooting hand.

He uses his left. Just as he very significantly has to in the series finale.

I don't know if the writers knew as far back as "The Outpost" that Crosshair was going to lose the use of his shooting hand and by extension everything he believed made him strong, a "superior" clone, and safe from being discarded when he was kind of fascism-pilled. But it feels extra significant in retrospect that his first action taken against the Empire is not done with the hand associated with the terrible things he did as an Imperial sniper. And it's after he just got a difficult lesson about how his own personal strength and skills aren't enough to protect him - he was saved twice by Mayday, then possibly only survived through the night because he wouldn't leave him behind and could share his body heat. He may be using his left hand when he shoots Nolan because his other arm is tired from supporting Mayday all the way back, which only adds to the symbolic touch I love that Mayday is using his rifle as a crutch to help him walk as well (and of course, he's at close range so quite meaningfully Crosshair doesn't use the rifle to shoot here either). It all supports the idea of this as the first huge moment of transformation for Crosshair when he's finally turning his fire on the real enemy out of a desire to protect others, however futile and too late it is in this particular situation.

Going back and noticing this really reinforced for me that Crosshair's hand injury probably isn't just meant as a manifestation of his trauma related to Tantiss. It would make sense considering it's his shooting hand that it also has something to do with his inner conflict regarding his changed relationship with violence and killing.

The Batch were introduced as these stereotypically macho soldier characters, an impression that's softened a little as early as the pilot of TBB but still distinguishes them a little from other clones. In a kind of funny way you can look at the whole series as being about these guys who were only brought up to fight gradually discovering and finding peace with their more traditionally feminine sides - literally because of Omega, a female version of themselves who shows them the possibilities of being a family and living for others instead of for violence.

For Crosshair this journey is much more difficult and like a painful rebirth than it is for anyone else because being a soldier was so much of his identity. He's always been the one to most pointedly distinguish his squad from regs because of their "superior" traits that he thinks will make the Empire value them, and he clearly internalized the way the Kaminoans only care about clones as weapons to be used in war. And it all betrays how little value Crosshair actually believes he has deep down. It was easy to go into S3 being especially worried about his fate because he's believed so long that he's not good for anything but fighting and he's the character it was the hardest to imagine adjusting to a different life.

But in retrospect, it was stupid to think they'd let him off that easy and of course the whole point is that it takes a lot to get him there. What exactly he went through on Tantiss beyond the electroshock torture we've seen is never delved into but personally, I think being a soldier is something that's poisoned for Crosshair after he becomes a victim of the Empire himself and subject to their attempts at reconditioning. He's not psychologically able to be that person anymore, but for a long time is still trying to largely rely on himself and his own strength. He tries to sacrifice himself for others because he's still holding onto that part of himself in a way.

But for once in Star Wars we've gotten a fully realized redemption arc showing that sometimes what's harder than giving your life in a redemptive way is to actually have to figure out how to live with the bad things you've done and be better. Some of the people Crosshair hurt were his family, and he has to learn he can only make things better by being there for them. He has to learn that he actually can survive and figure out a way forward from his life as a soldier if he lets himself rely on them, just like he only survived Barton IV with help from Mayday. As @moonstrider9904 explains so well in this post, that is what's so important about Crosshair losing the hand and making that final shot to save Omega with Hunter's support. Symbolically he's had that toxic part of himself actually cut off and it's the final, most painful part of his rebirth. But because of that he's forced to find that he can live on without it, that he's surrounded by people who love and believe in him anyway, and that having superhuman skills as a killer was never what gave him worth.

No, having his shooting hand cut off doesn't "fix" anything or mean that Crosshair is healed. He's probably only begun to recover from everything he's been through. But all we really need to see is that he's firmly found his place as part of a family instead of a squad, and he's not going to be alone as he deals with all of that.

#the bad batch #the bad batch meta #crosshair #tbb crosshair #commander mayday #star wars #meta #my meta

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katsu28 · 3 days

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hi Kait! congrats!! ☕️ "Why are you mad?” “I’m not mad, I just think you can choose better people to kiss.” with bradley bradshaw please!! ily

thank you! this is unbelievably late so i apologize but you know what the french say! soo la voo, or whatever (that's from tiktok, french tumblr girlies (gn) pls don't come for me)

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x roommate!reader (2k)

“I had a really nice time tonight, Jake.”

“Yeah?” Jake smiled, letting your joined hands swing between the two of you as he walked you to your front door. “Me too.”

“We should do this again sometime.” Was it too bold of you, asking for a second date when you were only moments away from the end of your first? Probably. But Jake was nice and charming and made you feel special all night.

“Can I kiss you right now?”

Your smile grew even bigger at his words. Of course you wanted this very sweet, very handsome man to kiss you. You were hoping he’d do it this whole night. “Please.”

Jake slid a hand around the back of your neck, bringing you closer and closer until your lips connected. The kiss was everything you’d hoped it would be, but before either of you could deepen it, you faintly heard the sound of the locks unlatching from inside your apartment. Before you could warn Jake, the door swung open with a gust of wind.

“Well hello there, you crazy kids!”

You fought the urge to scream at your roommate’s smug as shit voice, pulling away from Jake with what you hoped was an extremely venomous glare aimed at Bradley. The smile on his face matched his tone of voice, shit eating and absolutely enjoying it.

“Rooster.” Jake nodded awkwardly. He stepped back like he’d just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, rubbing at the back of his neck. He avoided Bradley’s gaze, looking to you for any ounce of comfort you could provide, but there was little you could do when Bradley got like this.

You’d been living with Bradley Bradshaw coming up on a year now, and for the most part it had been smooth sailing. He was a great roommate and tidy to a fault, always keeping his space neat and the shared space even neater. You probably had the Navy to thank for that. In addition to that Navy instilled tidiness, as a person he was kind and funny and a little bit of a dork, but you loved that about him.

Something you didn’t quite love about him, however, was the way he acted whenever you went on dates.

You couldn’t even really call it jealousy because you’d never been together—not that you hadn’t thought of it occasionally. With someone as perfect of a person as Bradley, the thought was bound to cross your mind sometime. It wasn’t quite territorial, but definitely more than him just looking out for you.

“Hangman.” Bradley responded coolly. He mirrored Jake’s crossed arms, leaning against the door frame. “Getting back a little late, aren’t we?”

“Shut up.” You said, words a near hiss through a tight smile. You turned back to Jake, splaying a hand across his chest. “Ignore him.”

“He can’t ignore me, he’s standing on my doorstep.”

“Bradley, I swear to god—”

Jake patted your hand, giving it a squeeze before stepping away. “No it’s fine, I can take a hint. I’ll be on my way.”

“Okay.” You sighed, trying hard not to sound too defeated. “Text me when you get home?” Jake nodded, but judging by how quickly he walked back to his car, it was safe to say there would be no second date. You stormed into the apartment without waiting for Jake to drive away, shouldering past a madly grinning Bradley with a frustrated huff.

“You’re an asshole, Bradshaw.” You scowled, throwing your sweater at him. He dodged it easily, tossing it across the back of the couch with a snort.

“I don’t like him!”

“He’s from your squadron. He’s your friend.” You deadpanned, raising a brow. “You’re the one who introduced us to each other, and now you don’t like him?”

“I don’t like him for you.” He corrected himself, crossing his arms over his chest. “He used to be a playboy, you know that, right? I don’t want him playing with your feelings!”

You whirled around on your heel, fixing him to the spot with a glare. “Then why did you set me up with him?”

Bradley’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, like he was searching for any excuse to answer your question. He could say he just wanted to help. He could say a whole lot of completely bullshit things, anything but the real reason. Bradley couldn’t give an honest answer to your question, not without exposing his own feelings for you. So he just shrugged, letting his hands slap against his thighs helplessly.

“Don’t act like you did me any favors, Bradley. I don’t know what you have to gain from messing with my love life, but however funny you think you are, you’re not. So just stop it, please.”

“Y/N, I—”

“I’m gonna head to bed. See you in the morning.”

You left him behind at that, hurrying to your bedroom before he could get in another word.

-------

Bradley’s knuckles rapped against your door, echoing through the empty hall.

He wasn’t used to you being upset with him (not that he didn’t deserve it this time, because he definitely did). There was usually some sort of noise coming from your room, whether it was music or the show you were binging, or even just you having a conversation with yourself in the confines of your own space. Things that annoyed him a little at first, but soon grew to love about you.

The silence right now felt weird. Foreign. Just another sign that he’d massively fucked up.

“Hey. It’s me.” No answer. He knocked again, a little more insistent this time. “I’m sorry for being a dick.” Still no answer. “C’mon, Y/N. I hate it when we fight. And I really am sorry. Feel free to open the door and kick me in the nuts or something.”

The door swung open with a creak, and Bradley squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation for a foot to the nether regions that thankfully never came. He cracked one eye open to see you retreating over to your bed.

You’d changed into your pajamas in the time that it took him to formulate an apology in his head. Showered too, judging by the whiff of your citrusy shampoo he got when he came to settle at the edge of your mattress.

“Thanks. For not actually kicking me in the nuts.”

“I was thinking about it.”

“I deserve it.”

“You do. You were petty earlier, Bradley. Kinda mean too.”

He bobbed his head quickly, agreeing. “I was. And I’m sorry.”

“You set me up with Jake only to sabotage any chance of a relationship with him. And you can’t even tell me why.”

“It doesn’t matter why.” Bradley blurted. He cleared his throat, composing himself despite the disbelieving look you threw his way. “I know it was wrong of me to do what I did, but Hangman wasn’t right for you.”

“That’s none of your business though!” You said shrilly, rising from your seat with anger. You all but stormed across the room, putting enough distance between Bradley and yourself so you wouldn’t feel tempted to strangle him. He was being impossible and way out of line. “My love life—who I date, who I like, it’s none of your business!”

Bradley was growing angry too, but not at you. At himself, for letting his feelings for you get to this point. “It is! It is my business when I know there’s someone better out there for you. Someone who understands you and supports you and loves you—who would never even think about treating you like anything less than the amazing person you are.”

“You’re not making any sense. Why do you even care so much?”

“Of course I care! I care about you, Y/N, you know that!”

“I know you do, but that’s not—” You let out a frustrated huff. “Why are you so mad?” You exclaimed, genuinely exasperated at the way he was acting.

“I’m not mad.” Bradley scoffed. “I just think you can choose better people to kiss.”

“Like who, Bradley? Who’s this someone better you keep talking about?”

“Me.” He said simply. It was blunt—maybe a little too much so, but maybe it was necessary. Dancing around the fact hadn’t done any good, so maybe this unexpected approach would give a different result. A better one.

All your anger dissipated in a flash, replaced with hurt. He had to be kidding. This had to be some sort of fucked up joke, because there was no way Bradley Bradshaw had feelings for you. Not in the same way you felt about him. “Bradley, that’s not funny.”

“I’m not trying to be.” He insisted, shaking his head. “I mean it. I saw you from the side window, him walking you up to the step, and when I saw him kiss you, I just—there was this feeling…like I’d been kicked in the chest. And when I see you, every morning, every night, every day, I feel like I—”

“Stop.” You whispered, barely audible. Bradley’s voice died mid-sentence, brows knitting together at the sight of your seemingly pained expression. “What are you doing? What do you want from me, Bradley?”

“I want you. You’re all I’ve ever wanted. All I still want.”

You didn’t reply for a scarily long time, and when you did, your voice shook. “If you cared about me like you say you do, you wouldn’t have done what you did earlier.”

Bradley’s stomach dropped, tendrils of guilt creeping their way up the back of his neck like vines. He hadn’t even thought of it that way. He’d been so preoccupied with his feelings, he hadn’t even stopped to consider yours. From your perspective, Bradley was doing this all out of spite. (Which wasn’t at all true, but things weren’t looking too good for him.)

“It was stupid. A mistake, I know. One I’ll try my damndest to amend.” He insisted, reaching out with a reassuring hand on top of yours.

The moment his hand touched you, you stiffened. Didn’t pull away, didn’t retreat like you’d been burned, but it had the same effect. Oh, he’d definitely fucked up. You’d never reacted to him like that before, never had any reason to. Now you did, and the reason for it was entirely his own doing.

“I think you should leave.”

“...The apartment?”

Your shoulders crept up to your ears, dropping in a haphazard shrug. “No. I don’t know, just—let me be alone right now?”

He murmured out a soft okay, rising from his seat. He knew when to leave things be. Or he did now, at least.

What he really wanted to do was to reach out as he passed you, to hold your hand or brush along your cheek or something, anything, to make you understand that he hadn’t told you to hurt you. But he didn’t, because he knew it would only make things worse. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen, I—yeah, I’m just…sorry.”

You didn’t respond, just kept your eyes trained on your socked feet like they were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. It made his guilt grow a thousandfold. He lingered at the threshold of the room a moment, hoping you’d garner one last glance at him and see just how sorry he was.

You didn’t.

Bradley let the door click shut behind him on his way out. He let out the biggest, heaving sigh, letting his head tip down towards his chest, because seriously, he was such an asshole.

He’d never been good at the whole “talking about his feelings” thing, and it was clearly showing, bleeding into his words and actions as if it were some sort of excuse for him to be acting the way he did.

He hated how it made you feel like he was trying to sabotage your love life. It had never been his intention, but intentions didn’t matter in this situation.

How could he even begin to try and make this better? Would you even let him have the chance?

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

#kait's 2k!#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster bradshaw angst #bradley bradshaw angst

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padfootagain · 1 day

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Only an Almost (X)

Chapter 10: Too Sweet

Hello!! Here is another chapter! This one is very fluffy!! (Surprising, I know) Also, some heavy make-out… let me remind you that this is not written for minors!

We are already halfway-through this fic, as it will be 20-chapters long!

I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!

*************************************

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.

Word Count : 1549

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Fucking adorable, that was what you were…

As you looked at Andrew with a grin on your lips, expectant, excited, a tidal wave of affection washed over his heart. A warm, peaceful, affectionate feeling that made him giddy, created butterflies in his stomach, made his heart speed up and a dreamy smile form on his lips.

You were trying to get a peek inside his cupboard, to see his brand-new harvest of honey. He had promised you would get some to take home, and had prepared a little honeypot for you. He wasn’t sure why, but seeing you this excited for something as simple as this was turning his heart into a puddle.

“There you go, this one’s yours.”

He handed the small jar. It was nothing special. A plain glass jar filled with honey. You were grinning as you took it in your hands.

“Thank you!”

You rose to your tiptoes to drop a peck to his cheek, and he couldn’t help but blush as he hurried to close the cupboard.

“It’s nothing…”

“It’s your honey! Of course, it’s something! You’ve worked hard to make it.”

“To be fair, the bees are the ones doing all the work,” he dodged the compliment, scrubbing at his cheek in a nervous gesture, feeling his cheeks get warm.

“True,” you admitted in a giggle. “But even if that’s the case, you’re still doing more than I would.”

“Taking care of bees isn’t that hard, you could do it.”

“I don’t know… I’m a little scared at the idea of being surrounded by bees.”

“You’re wearing a suit, it’s alright. It’s perfectly safe. Besides, you’re not harming them, so they won’t harm you either. Perhaps one day, I could teach you. And you could make honey too!”

It would be our honey…

“Hmm… still… I’ll leave the making of the honey to you, and focus on the eating!”

You opened the jar, smelled the sweetness of the nectar inside. You hummed, closing your eyes.

“Smells so good.”

You dipped your finger inside, licked it clean. Andrew struggled to swallow, looking away, trying to control himself.

“It’s delicious! God, Andy! This is so good!”

But Andrew wasn’t looking at you. Instead, he was looking outside, at the rain falling on his garden, holding on the kitchen counter, trying to forget the thoughts that had come up in his mind, the sins he wanted to commit with you…

“You know what would be delicious? Some fruits! Some fruits with your honey would be delicious!”

You opened the cupboard, picked up a plate, and then you reached for the drawer and picked up a knife. Andrew washed an apple and handed it to you without a word. You had spent too much time in his house for this not to be natural. You in his kitchen, making snacks. In silence, he filled up a kettle, still unable to look at you but hiding it well.

You took some mugs from the cupboard above his sink, rising to your tiptoes to reach them. It made Andrew grow a tender smile.

And it was easy. Being there, doing something so insignificant and domestic in his house with you… like you belonged there. It was obvious, the way you moved in this space he called home, like it was yours more than his.

He could picture himself doing this every day with you. Letting you in the spaces that were most private to him, the ones that made him feel safe. You belonged there. You belonged in the warmth of a home he would call his…

“I’ll let you cut the apple, or else you will criticize what I’m doing. I’ll make tea instead,” you told him, a playful smile on your lips, bringing him back to earth.

He rolled his eyes, but couldn’t deny that you were right. So, he picked up the knife and cut the apple into slices, the way his mother had taught him years ago, in another kitchen, in another safe place he called home.

You chose your favourite tea, there was always a stache of it in his home. Your favourite biscuits too. Your favourite ice-cream. Your favourite book. Your favourite movie. Your shampoo and soap had been added recently, now that you stayed for a shower. But pieces of you had always been here, you had always been here…

You put the pieces in a bowl, added a little bit of honey, just enough to make the fruit sticky and sinfully sweet. You gave a happy wiggle when you ate the first piece, not waiting for Andrew to give you a fork, and instead, picking it up with your fingers, making them sticky as well.

“Delicious!” you complimented him, making his heart jump.

This afternoon was lovely. It was raining hard outside, the sky a mournful shade of grey; but it was warm inside Andrew’s home, and you were happy and smiling, and joking around, and life was good for as long as you were in it…

Andrew didn’t think as he bent down, capturing your lips with his. He barely registered his movements when he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, a hand sprayed across your spine, the other holding firmly your waist. You let out a surprised sigh, and then you blinked your eyes closed, hands coming up to cradle his face.

You tasted of apple and honey, sweetness at its finest. Too sweet to be real…

Your lips were sticky with the juice of the fruit and the sugar of the honey. Andrew didn’t care. He didn’t mind either when your fingers ran down his neck to open the buttons of his shirt. He could feel the sugar on them too.

You broke free from his embrace, leaving him dizzy with your taste and your warmth against his body. He blinked down at you.

“Sorry, my hands are all sticky. Hang on.”

You washed the honey away, and Andrew waited impatiently next to you, opening and closing his fists, trying not to reach out, not to scare you away.

You were so beautiful…

“Better,” you smiled, showing your clean hands, and he smiled back at you without noticing.

God, he loved you so fucking much, and he couldn’t say it. But then again, he saw how your gaze softened, how your expression grew peaceful with tenderness. And he caught himself dreaming that this could be love, that you could feel the same.

It was stupid, perhaps, it was him forgetting about the major obstacle that was his career, and your fear of living a lonely life because of him. Still, as he looked at you then, he let himself believe for a second that one day, he could finally speak the words that rested for now on the tip of his tongue.

Still, your touch was soft when you took his hand in yours.

“Andy?”

He hummed, raising an eyebrow to encourage you to speak.

“Can we go to your bedroom now?”

You added mischief to your smile, it made him dizzy; thoroughly addicted to the sight too.

He gently pulled on your hand so you would follow him. You didn’t steal kisses until you were both standing in front of his large bed. And then your lips were back on his, you were freeing his hair from the messy bun he had been sporting. His hand slipped under your t-shirt and your jumper, spreading his fingers over your bare skin. Warm. Soft. Making his entire body burn with desire.

When his lips moved to your neck, you let out a moan, and he reckoned that this ought to be the sound of heaven, the perfect melody he had been looking for all his life.

“Can I be on top?” you asked in a tone made shaky by his fingers pulling on your bra.

“Whatever you want, honey,” Andrew mumbled into your skin, before attaching his lips to yours again.

You didn’t correct him, let him have the pet name. Perhaps your mind was as blurry as his while you kissed passionately, while your fingers finished to unbutton his shirt. The blink of an eye, and somehow you were shirtless, skin exposed to the air and to Andrew’s angry lips while you stumbled to reach his bed.

He lost his shirt before you gently pushed him on the bed, and then you were lying on top of him, and Andrew had to pinch himself to remember that this was real, no matter how many times he had lived this scene before.

You hovered over him, just a breath away, looking at him like you were admiring him…

“You’re so handsome, Andy…” you let out in a whisper, like a confession. It made his body slightly tremble.

“You’re gorgeous, Y/N.”

You shook your head, and he caught himself thinking that this look in your eyes held more than infatuation or physical attraction. Something closer to adoration, the kind of gazes he aimed at you.

You blinked, eyes glimmering in the light made dim by the rain outside. Your voice was deeper when you spoke, almost hoarse, as if tightened with emotions.

“Andy… I lo…”

But you stopped, left him suspended to your words. You let out a shaky breath, and instead of speaking, merely kissed him again.

#hozier #the hoziest #andrew hozier byrne #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier x fem!reader #hozier fanfiction #hozier fanfic #hozier series #fanfiction #writing #fanfic #series

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htchnr · 6 hours

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♰ pure bliss ༻ C. HOWARD.*ೃ˚

➻ masterlist. ➻ buy me a coffee!

CW ➻ pure fluff ⋆ i made up the plot to Cooper's movie 'Under The Covers' purely based on the fake movie poster ⋆ but i kinda really like my take on it ngl ⋆ fluff so sweet it'll rot your teeth ⋆ if i missed anything, lmk!

PAIRING ➻ Actress!Reader x Prewar!Cooper.

SUMMARY ➻ tired late night couch cuddles, based on a convo i had with the lovely @sandy-rat ☺️💕. WC ➻ 300~.

AUTHORS NOTE ➻ i'm not quite back from my break yet, i just wanted to put this out cause UHGGGG i wanna cuddle on the couch with this man 🫠😭🥲🥹 also trying a new writing format, PLEASE let me know what you guys think!

Cooper looks up from the television at the sound of the floor creaking, " what're you doin' up? " your southern drawl thick with sleep. his eyes meet your form, standing tiredly in the doorway to the living room in your silk nightgown.

Cooper quickly turns the volume on the television down, one of his movies playing. " was i too loud? i'm sorry honey, " he offers, watching you rub your eyes and yawn as you make your way to him.

" you weren't, jus' missed you 's all. " you yawn, melting into the couch as you lay down, your head in his lap. he sighs, a warm yet tired smile pulling at his lips as you settle down. " what're you watchin'? " another yawn.

your tired eyes watch the screen for a second, catching on to the scenery of 'Under The Covers'. " 'course you're watchin' this, " you smile, nuzzling against his thigh. he wraps an arm around your shoulder, calloused hand massaging gentle circles into your skin.

you knew Cooper loved Under The Covers, mainly, cause you two starred in it together — you were the female lead in it.

it was his character's goal to seduce your character in order to learn company secrets and get closer to the man he was after. though, in the end his character falls in love with yours, disregarding the operation to get away together,

it was where the pair of you properly talked for the first time, actually. sure you two had crossed paths in the studios while crossing sets, but you had never sat down long enough to have a meaningful conversation.

and here the two of you are, happily together, rarely apart from each other. he sighs happily as his eyes return to the screen, one of your big scenes playing. " what else would i be watching? " he chuckles, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze before trailing his fingers to your hair, carefully combing the strands that lay across his lap.

you practically melt into his lap and the couch as his fingers lovingly scratch across your scalp. your eyes drift shut at the pleasure. " y'know we have other movies t'gether right? " letting out another long yawn as you curl up more against him.

" i know, but this one means the most to me, " he smiles tiredly, the rhythmic massaging of his fingers and the tangle of your hair around them slowly tiring him.

the two of you did many movies after your first, varying from the same type of spy movies, to westerns, to plain romance movies. and you loved them all dearly. you don't think you had a favourite that you did with him, you loved them all equally in your heart.

the ' tik! ' of the old grandfather clock and the rhythmic movements of Cooper's fingers slowly lull you to sleep, cheek pressed against his warm thigh as he tiredly watches the movie. it isn't long before he drifts to sleep either..

TAGLIST ; @live-logs-and-proper @looonytooons @seeingstarks @thewastelandwriter @lacey-mercylercy @marina-and-the-memes @p4rsuade @anonymous-creep @likoplays @iceviolet11 @https-junebug @silverose365 @athanza @songbirdemerald-blog @justt-myth @looneylooomis @v3lv3tf0x @keyofgigi

#⋆୨🩷©2024 htchnr #⋆୨⭐️cooper howard #cooper howard x fem!reader #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard oneshot #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #the ghoul oneshot #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul fallout #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul #walton goggins #walton ghoulgins

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highdio · 3 days

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Pleeease, write your thoughts about the musical lol. I really like your Dio meta posts <3

Just a disclaimer: this is really opinionated but I don't like to drag media for its own sake. There were lots of things to like in the Phantom Blood musical, just ... Dio wasn't one of them. Also, Mamoru Miyano threw himself into the performance he was asked for, so it's hardly his fault. It's just always amazing to me that people feel the need to rewrite Dio into someone else when the way Araki's written him is already perfect, complete and a lot of fun.

So, where to start? Basically, the Phantom Blood musical re-writes Dio, giving him a different personality and different motivations through OOC stage direction along with a bunch of original dialog and scenes. What results is a version of Phantom Blood where "Dio" is just a normal guy without charisma who had a bad childhood and spends most of the story being miserable. Dio as he's written in canon has an uncommon charisma and appeal that's allowed him to remain relevant as one of those 'all-time great' villains. Scene after scene in the musical prove that its creative team either didn't read the manga or just really didn't like Dio.

fwiw Araki wrote Dio as thoroughly fleshed-out, with consistent traits and behaviors and consistent motivations behind his actions. He also left a paper trail of interviews and author's commentaries that develop Dio even more fully beyond the manga. So there's really no excuse for media that treat Dio as some sort of empty vessel waiting to be filled by narrative cliches we already know and expect.

It's annoying too, because, along with its OOC content, the musical is peppered with occasional manga-consistent moments. It's like the musical is camouflaging its Very Bad Take on Dio by having Mamoru Miyano periodically re-enact the canon character's most famous panels. The musical wants simultaneously to take credit for bringing Araki's vision to life on the stage, while at the same time completely undermining its most important element: a capital V "Villain" who, according to Araki, "accepts and embraces his evil nature, and follows his dark path without hesitation." This is the biggest change the musical makes to Dio: musical!Dio has none of the confidence that allows canon Dio him to move so decisively and destructively through the narrative.

Musical Dio is introduced by a scene where he's bullied on his way home, before breaking into a song about how terrible his life is, where "everything is always taken from [him]" ("it's hell …I feel nauseated …[I'm] under a cloudy sky.") The song is alternately tearful and hopeful. "I'm going crazy from being robbed!" he laments and then pollyannaishly muses, "hey, Joestar, can you turn my [cloudy] skies to blue?"

If Dio being introduced as a sad sap and self-described perennial loser hoping for any break sounds attitudinally unfamiliar that's because it is. Araki went in the opposite direction: he started his story by subverting the cliche - wide-eyed poor boy victimized by circumstance leaves his sorrow-filled life hoping for a new start - and instead gave us a kid with surprising, even sinister agency. Dio is not just given a hero's upward narrative arc (something Araki crafted very deliberately), he's introduced improbably in his first scene from a position of control. This fact is important because in the manga it's a position he won't lose until four chapters and nearly 100 pages in, when Jonathan finally fights back. From the time young Dio is introduced - reading a book with his back turned to his bed-ridden father who he's secretly poisoning -

- to the time he's systematically broken down his adoptive brother's spirit by alienating him from his friends, taking Erina's first kiss, and of course kicking his dog, Dio is shown as being in control and on top (Erina drinking the muddy water is the only exception). It's OOC to imagine 12-year old Dio feeling sorry for himself because at the time he's introduced, he's already made a habit of getting what he wants. By the time he sets off for the Joestars after killing his first dad, he's already developed full confidence in his abilities and the inevitability of his rise to riches (something Araki has him explicitly state and then underscores with a panel illustration of a steam train signaling the rise of Modernity).

But the writers and director of the musical don't find this characterization interesting enough or something. So they lose the canon entirely and in its place they invent a version of Dio who's despondent. And they didn't get Araki's steam train memo so they miss the Modernity theme (even though Araki's tied Dio so tightly conceptually to the idea of the Modern that he has him "use a 20th century boxing technique in the 19th century"); instead they double down on class difference being determinative. It never occurs to them that Dio is written specifically by Araki with the freedom to move outside of his social status because he sees it as artificial (the "evil elite" monologue later reveals Dio thinks of the whole social contract thing is arbitrary and voluntary).

Throughout the musical, Dio (although it's not fair to Mamoru Miyano since he isn't responsible for writing this mess, let's use mamoDio from now on because it's easier) seems to idolize the Joestars for what he calls their "beautiful blood." Not "beautiful" because usable calories for the vampire he will become but "beautiful" because noble. The Joestars' noble status and the honor that's apparently behind that status become the shining "star" toward which mud-bound mamoDio flailingly, failingly reaches. I don't need to tell you that in canon Dio doesn't have respect for nobility.

"Mud and stars" is heavy-handedly introduced as a dominant theme of the musical. According to the play, Jonathan, noble and bright, looks to the stars while human Dio, pathetic, conflicted and even confused, can only see life as a mud-soaked prison.

Now, the mud and stars thing was only used in Part 1 as a single text element on a Volume 1 illustration but, in spite of its marginality, it's becomes a liturgical text for some fans looking for an explanation for Dio's actions beyond what Araki gives them in the actual narrative. To this sort of fan, a guy who embraces his inner talent for evil and never had the misfortune of developing a moral compass isn't the right type of villain because he's unapologetic. If the villain doesn't have excuses how can you apologize for him? So they need Dio and by extension Araki to give them a "good enough" reason to accept Dio's ever-escalating atrocities. If the reasons Dio has for doing the things he does lie outside of what's considered good or acceptable, they are simply rejected and new reasons are invented in the hope of making Dio much less objectionable.

Now, like I said earlier, Araki's repeatedly told us in his writings that Dio has an upward narrative trajectory, not a downward, "mud"-bound one. The mud and stars duality fails to describe the narrative journey of the two main characters: both look upward to transcend their circumstances and travel along a shonen manga hero's rising path. (In fact, it's Jonathan who needs a good push to realize his potential, something Dio happily provides). And it's Jonathan, not Dio, who Araki first gives a downward arc, being handed defeat after defeat for those first four chapters before gaining his footing and progressively rising to Dio's challenges. "Mud and stars" isn't just a bad choice of metaphor, it's a misleading one.

Back to the musical, mamoDio is the exact opposite. An air of sadness and insecurity haunts his performance. An original scene where George presents the mud and stars dilemma as a lesson highlights Dio's lack of confidence and the depression that lurks behind it, as Dio bemoans how people doomed to "struggle and die" cannot possibly summon the hope it takes to look up to the stars (he's talking of course about himself).

Likewise, and here's where mamoDio's failure as a character really comes into full relief, seven years after this, when Dio's machinations are revealed and he's about to be arrested, before he uses the stone mask, mamoDio drops to the floor and spends the better part of a musical number in tears, bemoaning his sorry life ("I'm trapped in a prison covered in mud… no matter how hard I struggle I'm crushed…") and his lack of noble blood.

(btw this is after the manga scene where Dio fake cries; here, mamoDio is genuinely distraught).

Contrast this to the actual scene in the manga. His expressions in these panels are memorable because of how assured Araki draws him. Dio's entire world - his poisoning scheme, his grab at what one can assume would have been the entirety of the Joestar estate - is about to end but instead of despairing, he launches into a philosophical soliloquy. His body language is haughty: this isn't mamoDio crawling on the ground and decrying his upbringing and lack of noble blood, instead this is a man who apparently, almost irrationally, perceives himself as noble. When he uses the mask, Dio is smiling widely. Metaphorically speaking, he's looking at the stars.

When mamoDio uses the mask? He's on his knees. He's in tears. On one night he interjects, "Mother…" In short, he's conflicted.

One of these depicts Dio. The other does not.

Now obviously the writers and director of the musical must think making these seismic changes adds something to Dio's character. But (and I feel like this is a theme whenever I write these things) I'd argue it only makes him more basic. It makes him predictable and formulaic, someone we've seen in countless other stories.

(Oh! and did I mention mamoDio repeatedly calls himself "useless"!! Because he does this.)

Now, because mamoDio has no confidence and as a human acts out of desperation, when he becomes a vampire he still isn't Dio. Mamoru tries to make his vampire Dio evil and scary by expending a lot of energy, running about the stage and sticking out his tongue ad nauseum. When you look at how Araki has Dio move physically throughout the manga, it's the opposite of kinetic. Dio is a point of fixity who's charisma draws others toward him (ask me for more on this if you want because there's enough here for its own post).

Now for the worst of the worst: at the very end of the production, after the manga ending that features Jonathan's death and Dio's (presumed) defeat as a head imprisoned in Jonathan's arms, the musical takes an original twist in which, following a finale number featuring most of the cast, mamoDio is lead offstage by Jonathan. You read that right. mamoDio is hunched over, resigned, and Jonathan seems to take on a paternal role. Although the lyrics would have you believe this has something to do with "two fates becoming one," it's clear from the stage direction that any embers of Dio's ambition are being tamed and extinguished as Jonathan takes Dio's grasping hand, subdues him, and leads him docilely into the darkness.

It turns out Dio's vampire arc was just a phase, a hurt and lonely child lashing out and making a mess for attention.

His body language here is obscenely out of character. Consider the following because, as I said in the opening, in spite of what all these re-writes of Dio would have you believe, Araki crafted Dio with specificity and consistency: Araki only draws Dio (with very few exceptions) 1) standing tall, looking down at you; 2) back turned, looking back and down at you; or simply 3) back turned, (performatively?) ignoring you. Dio is never on the ground except when he's knocked down (think, young Jonathan finally fighting back in the Joestar home or, much later, Jotaro stopping time and landing those punches). By constrast, mamoDio has spent an incessant amount of time of the ground, crouching, kneeling,, bowing, hunched down. Who is this guy? So his hunched-down exit in the final moments of the production, literally being led by Jonathan (controlled??), is so amazingly stupid that if I didn't have a gif as proof, you might think I'm just making this stuff up:

There's plenty more to unpack that I won't address here: ghost Dario. The lack of grave-spitting. The complete absence of true joy or leisure expressed by Dio especially during his vampire era: no woman eating her baby, no owlcats, no Poco's sister. No chaise lounge. No roses(!). No fun. Not for Dio. That would be too manga-consistent. That might mean Araki wasn't giving us the appropriate message that bad guys are actually just sad guys.

tl;dr Dio isn't in the Phantom Blood musical. He's replaced by a normal guy who's motivated by a lack of self-esteem and despair that he wasn't born into an upper-class household, or something. He's boring. The result? There can be no Part 3 in this musical's world (and presumably no Parts 4, 5 or 6, no Giorno, no Jolyne, … you get the picture) because mamoDio just gives up. It's a nicely produced little tale about Jonathan Joestar and some random other guy who at some point gets a funny green coat.

#Anonymous #replies tag #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #dio brando #mp #dioposts #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo #phantom blood #phantom blood musical #dio talk #long post #the fact that media that's otherwise faithful to the text goes out of its way to rewrite Dio and only Dio consistently sends me

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tellmeallaboutit · 3 days

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give me all your NSFW Raphael headcanons, please <3

GLADLY! TW: those are for Dark!Raphael as always, I don't have any other flavour of Raphael in store.

The more excited Raphael gets, the more he loses control of his tail. It waggles, it slashes the air, it twitches, it lives its own best life.

Generally has a crazy and hard to control libido due to his infernal nature. He is not very happy with this as it makes him easier to influence and control and he is very aware of this.

Absolutely loves tears. Especially licking tears. Has his own rating system for tears based on their purity, roundness, saltiness and clarity. Tav's are 12/10.

Does have problems with finishing too quickly, but his refractory period is so short it doesn't really matter.

Couldn't care less when people stroke his horns. Laughs at the fascination mortals have with them. Plays right into it and doesn't leave his house without giving his horns a thorough waxing for extra shine.

Raphael can generally take a jab, but not about his performance in bed or perceived dominance. Haarlep knows it. If Haarlep could, they would post posters all over the hells with RAPHAEL SUCKS DICK FOR A SOUL COIN AND HE SUCKS AT IT

100% sadomasochistic (mostly sadistic) to the point of not wanting/understanding vanilla sex at all and only having it for ulterior seduction purposes. 'Everything is about sex, sex is about power' is his motto.

Selfish in bed, not only with Haarlep. His orgasm is an absolute must and a goal we should all strive for, yours is optional unless he wants to make it a point of control/domination. You should be coming in your pants at the sight of him anyway, and if you're not, that's a clear 'you' problem.

Haarlep gets less respect than a dildo, because at least a dildo gets cleaned afterwards.

You'd be hard pressed to find a kink that would be a hard no for him. Tentacles and illithids maybe.

But when it comes to favourites, it's humiliation, degradation, fear play. And a corruption kink, of course. His whole life is a corruption kink.

Has strong hunting instincts, which he generally finds BENEATH HIM, but absolutely cannot resist when they kick in.

His sperm burns. Not the nice warm fuzzy feeling, it burns. Not to the point of actual damage, but to the point where you're screaming for him to finish somewhere else.

Doesn't care much for virgins. Like, it's nice, he definitely wouldn't turn them down, but it's much more important that they have a SUCCULENT soul.

Don't ask me about the chamber pot guy, I don't want to know and you don't want to know either.

On a totally unrelated note: he doesn't find things (fluids, excretions) that we humans find repulsive so repulsive; I suppose sulphur smells pleasant to him, and sulphur smells like… yeah, go smell some sulphur yourself.

He actually likes to curl up around something, tail and wings included, and press his weight against his bed partner. It's hot, uncomfortable, leaves you with a high chance of suffocation, and again, a 'you' problem.

Aftercare? What aftercare? He is a busy man, he has more important things to do. Haarlep can do it, they don't have shit to do anyway.

Unless it's mind games and the purpose is to break you. Then okay, he might have five (5) minutes to caress and praise the poor mortal.

Obsessive, has had several obsessions in his life (they didn't make it out alive) It's not always the same thing that triggers the "gotta have it, gotta have it, gotta have it". With Hope it was her purity, but with other objects of affection it was different. Must be something he feels is "very special" though, because all things very special should by definition belong to Raphael.

#raphael bg3 #raphael the cambion #headcanons #bg3 raphael #raphael headcanons #dark!raphael

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bunnys-kisses · 6 hours

Text

like rum on fire

simon "ghost" riley

cw: angst/fluff/smut, homecoming, slight mentions of ptsd, gentle sex, plus sized!reader, body worship, missionary, sleepy sex, a gentle fic

bunny says: like the fic? leave a comment! really like the fic? suggest your own <3

to come home was to rest his tired head, to finally let himself relax. he had been away for two months, and every day felt like an eternity away from you. how he longed for the smell of your hair and the softness of your skin. he was a man primed for war, but when he was curled up in the bed you shared, he felt human.

like he was made of the pieces that made a human being, not manufactured to be a killer. that he was capable to be loved, to be adored by a you.

the roundness of your face, the thickness of your thighs, the smile you had. it melted away the facade he carried. coming home to you was like finding new life after living in the shadows.

to love you was an inferno in his chest that he couldn't ignore. and as he curled up closer to you on the bed, he felt content with life. his large hand grazed your soft middle and his nose was up against your neck. he could feel the laziness of your pulse as you slept.

"i love you." he said softly into your skin. his mind felt scarred with layers that went inches deep, his face fared no better. but yet you kissed him with passion.

you were not afraid to be seen with him in public. he softly kissed at your skin and held onto you tightly. not tight enough to hurt you, but enough to make him feel secure that you wouldn't slip away.

"i love you. i love you. i love you. i love you." he whispered, his voice caught your ear which caused you to stir. he watched you closely as you turned in his arms and reached out to grab the front of his grey t-shirt.

"what was that?" you asked, your eyes opened a little wider as you yawned, "did you say something?"

"nothin', love." he said softly.

you let go of his shirt and reached for his face where you softly touched the scars on his cheek and mouth. you blinked away and yawned again, "no, no. tell me."

he smiled at you and leaned in to kiss you on the forehead, "it was nothin' special."

you shook your head a little, "i wanna know."

"i love you, doll." he said as he took your head from his face and held onto it. he kissed your knuckle, "you make me feel human."

you felt more awake, "well, simon. i've always thought you were human. don't worry, i made sure to check for any robot parts. you're made of the same squishy stuff as me." you chuckled.

he slowly put you onto your neck and hung over you with his hands planted on either side of you. he kissed your face, which only woke you up more. "my love."

you giggled at his kisses, "oh, simon." you tilted your head to the side and embraced his warmth against you, "you're tickling me."

"i can't get enough of ya, love." he said as he continued to kiss your neck. his hands touched your arms and soon your breasts, "i see you, and i feel like a new man."

"i'll always love you, simon riley."

"and i will love you." he replied as he slowly took your shirt off of your body. he admired the softness of your breasts. you were so curvy and soft in many ways. he thought it was beautiful.

"are you sure you want to do this?" you asked as you reached for his face and held it in your hands, "i know homecoming can be tough."

he nodded, "of course. i want to feel close to you."

you nodded and let go of his face and started to work towards getting your bra off. he watched with a keen eye, you were divine. he was a worshiper of the beauty of your body.

he always thought men who wanted the smaller girls were weak. a real man wanted a woman who looked beautiful in all her curves. he licked his lips at the sight, "beautiful."

you blushed, "oh shut up, simon. this bra is stained as hell."

he cupped your breasts once you got your bra off and leaned in for a deeper kiss. he said simply, "i don't care, you're beautiful." then played with them, massaging them in his larger hands as his lips pressed against yours. he was starting to feel hot all over.

he wanted his love. his inferno, his sun, his angel. like a man begging for salvation, he begged to lay you out on the bed and show you the pleasure you two had been missing for some time.

you moaned into this kiss and later broke it to get fully undressed. he watched you as he got his own clothes off and soon you were both naked on the bed together. he got between your legs and admired your body.

he licked his lips and met your gaze. one hand on your hips, the other on your cock as he rubbed his length up against your slit. the room felt hotter than when he first entered it. the blood flow had long left his head and was now solely in his painfully hard cock.

"are you sure?"

he nodded, "certain." then slowly slid his cock into you. the breath left his lungs as he bottomed out into you and soon held onto your hips with both hands. his pace was slowly, he wanted to admire every inch of you. every noise your made, the way your nose scrunched up when it felt especially good.

his eyes raked your body as he began to move at a steady pace. he wasn't bouncing you on his dick, but it was consistent enough that pleasure ran through you.

your pulse was quick and your skin was hot as the two of you made love. it wasn't fucking, it was making love. two people came together to make something beautiful.

he went back to kissing you, he was bent over you as he thrusted his hips. your sweet noises was muffled by his tongue in your mouth. the kiss was the most aggressive part of his movements against you. he wanted to make sure that his love was taken care of.

he just adored you. his sunlight between the leaves. the comfort of home, the safety of being loved. his cheeks were rosy, the sweat drew down his back.

your back arched a little as the pleasure melted in your core. your nails dug into the pillow under your head. he parted the kiss and wiped the sweat off his forehead and neck.

"you're beautiful."

"you're not too bad yourself." you whimpered.

he curled further over you, he leveled your hips up a little bit to hit your core at the right angle. he panted as he continued to thrust into you. the air of your bedroom was hot as the sun beamed through the big windows.

"please, simon." you moaned.

"my sweet." he replied as he picked up the pace a little.

pleasure mounted between the two of you. he kissed you once more as he gave a few more thrusts and finished. you moaned into the kiss as you clenched around his cock and came as well. the heat stung your cheeks as you climaxed. you held onto the pillows tightly as you hit your peak then relaxed once more.

simon broke the kiss and looked down at you with nothing but sheer affection. he let go of your hips and rested on his heels, his cock slipped out of you and rested against his thigh. he wiped the sweat from his brow once more.

"still beautiful."

you panted and looked at him with hooded eyes, "not as beautiful as you." you then laughed sleepily as he got back to your side on the bed and curled you up in his arms. you melted into his touch as he kissed at your hairline.

"i'm happy to be home."

"i am too, simon." you looked into his eyes, brown like fresh coffee but they lit up when they were locked onto you, you cupped his face and smiled, "i love you."

he kissed you once more on the lips and replied, "i love you. now and forever." <3

#bunny writes #reader insert #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty smut #simon ghost riley #ghost call of duty #call of duty x reader #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon my beloved

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daenysx · 7 hours

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hi I can’t stop thinking about an aemond fic with his girl graduating university. I graduated today and can’t stop thinking about how supportive your modern aemond would be!!

thank you for requesting, angel! i'm sorry, this is a bit short but i hope you enjoy, congratulations!! requests are open

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader ♡

aemond watches you take your make up off as he does every night.

this time, it's a bit different. the hour is later than usual, you are a little tipsy because of the celebration drinks but you insist on completing your skin care routine. he lays in bed, his eye following your movements in the little bathroom attached to his bedroom. you give him a smile when your eyes meet, he likes being the person you smile at night.

you apply your night cream on your clean face and turn off the lights as you leave the bathroom. aemond adores how your face looks without any make up on, he likes it either way but your clean face reminds him how safe you feel with him. you trust him enough to create a night time routine with him, it's so nice to be the person you sleep and wake up next to. he opens his arms, you willingly lay next to him, your head on his chest and your arm wrapped around his waist.

"you don't have classes tomorrow." he says. "how does that feel?"

you sigh, nuzzling closer. "it's so weird. i don't think i ever remember a time when i don't continue studying after summer."

"you'll get used to it." he graduated three years ago. "and you can always continue studying if you want."

"i feel free." you say. "and i'm kinda proud of myself. i mean at some point it was really hard like it's never gonna end."

aemond is proud of you. so proud, he can still remember how his posture got straighter the moment you finally graduated. he is the person who has been with you all the time when you were studying, when you were crying because of your papers, when you were finding out about your grades and celebrating them. now, it's all over. you finished another important part of your life and he is one of the main characters. such a nice feeling, he thinks.

"i totally remember that point." he smirks. he does remember the time of your final week during your last semester at uni. it's safe to say he won't let you forget it either. it was a hectic week, you don't remember you ever studied harder in your life. one night, you were literally talking about your lecture notes in your sleep and aemond had the pleasure of learning your class.

"it happened once, aemond." you roll your eyes. "i can't control what i do when i sleep."

he changes your positions to be on top. he kisses your nose, your cheeks. he feels delightful tonight, you cup his cheeks to start a kiss that plays with his heartbeat. he brings his finger to your chin, tilts your head back for a deeper angle. you are both very tired but aemond thinks he can kiss you for an eternity. it makes him feel like he's the lead of one of those cheesy romcoms but he can't help himself.

"do you think it's gonna be okay?" you ask him, breaking the kiss. he knows you are nervous about what to do with your life now, university was hard but it had consistency. your every day was planned, routines were safe. right now, you need to build yourself a new life, it's a new chapter. beginnings are always scary.

"of course it's gonna be okay." he says, playing with your hair. "no matter what you decide to do, i'll be here."

"i think i'm afraid of stucking into a thing i'll hate and then never being able to change it."

he smiles, your pout has always been this cute. "trust me, sweetheart, you can change it. if you ever feel like you're stuck into something, i promise i'll help you with the change you want."

your pout turns into a smile. there she is, his brilliant girl. he kisses the corner of your lips fondly.

"i'm so proud of you." he says before kissing your forehead.

"thank you." your eyes are shining, you kiss him as a way of telling how much his words mean to you.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond x reader #house of the dragon #modern!aemond #hotd #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #modern!aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fics #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfic #modern!aemond imagine #modern!aemond targaryen #modern!aemond fic

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itsabouttimex2 · 3 days

Note

I've been brainrotting on your LSO au so much and the bot is very fun to mess with. I've been brainstorming angst comfort, etc in my head, and I gotta ask

If Clover met Monkey King, and asked him to train them, since the Monkie Knight is, ahem, 'postponing' their training, would Monkey King do it? If he did, would MK find out? How would he feel about that? Especially since one of Wukong's way of training is just to throw them into battles

I don't know if this counts as a request, or a question, so take it as either!

Let’s Start Over:

Second Option

(Part One) (Part Two)

“I’m not mad at them,” the Monkie Knight hisses into the phone, gripping the metal tightly. “I’m not mad at them. I wouldn’t go to confront my own student if I was still mad.”

Mei giggles from her side of the line, lighthearted and airy. “You sound mad, dude.” The sound of metal clinking and fire hissing emanates from the background- she’s probably getting her bike worked on. “Like, super mad. Like you’re about to blow your lid.” Even after a full decade, she hadn’t lost her sisterly teasing and frequent ribbing.

“I’m not mad,” MK repeats. “I can’t be mad at Y/N. I did the same thing when I was a kid.”

“But you’re calling them by their first name, though?! You only do that when you’re mad, MK!”

“Or when things get serious. And if my kid might be in danger, then things are serious.”

“…promise you won’t blow up at the kid, alright? They came to me for advice before running off, so it’s not like they were running around recklessly.”

He’s not surprised to hear that. You had dubbed his best friend as “Auntie Mei”, and frequently went to her for help that he couldn’t provide, or information that he might be a little embarrassed to provide. Not that the Monkie Knight wouldn’t sit through an awkward chat about bodily functions or crushes with you, of course. Just that Mei was much better at it.

“I swear, Mei. Clover is just a kid- making the same mistake I made. I’m not gonna get mad at them. I’m worried sick because I haven’t seen them since yesterday, and they weren’t

“They’re… the kiddo’s out at that new burger place with the Monkey King.”

“…with who? With who?”

“Look, I’ve got the restaurant cam pulled up right now- I’m making sure nothing happens. They just ordered their food.”

“Nothing is happening?”

“Nothing,” she reassures. “They’re just treating the kid to a meal.”

“…thanks, Mei. Talk to you soon. Friday?”

“…yeah. Yeah, Friday works fine.”

MK smiles, just a little. He’s gotta be better for you. No letting his close relationships fray. He can’t set the example that fighting and living alone is acceptable. You need to learn to rely on others, so he has to put his best foot forward with at least a few people.

He has to be better for you.

———————————————————————-

“Aww, you’re the sweetest! But I’m not sure MK would want me doing that, bud. He’s pretty insistent on teaching you without help.”

You look away from the Monkey King with a sigh, focusing instead the basket of fries in front of you. You haven’t had much of an appetite recently. Lunch was especially miserable, given that your mentor insisted on big meals to promote proper muscle growth and high amounts of energy.

“Oh, don’t look so down! Look, MK’s just trying to do what’s best for you, alright? If he’s putting your training on hold, it’s probably what’s best for you. Here, lemme see your wrists…”

Sun Wukong takes your hands gently, turning them over to observe your still-bruised skin. His thumbs drag reassuringly across your knuckles, offering some small comfort.

“You haven’t even healed yet, kiddo. MK is just a little worried still, okay? He’s got your safety in mind, trust me. That’s what all of this is for.”

His hand drifts over one palm, the seal crackling into sight. And though a slight frown mars his exuberant face, the king fights it off to reassure you.

“I’m sure things’ll get better once you’re all fixed up, okay? You can bear with it a little longer- I know you can, Y/N.”

“Of course they can. They don’t have a choice.”

Both of you whip around to see MK stood near the table, his foot tapping impatiently. Arms folded over his chest, the man leans forward to meet Wukong’s eyes.

“Any reason you’ve got my kid miles from home without telling me, Monkey King?”

Though he expects to see anger, Wukong finds worry and exhaustion on the man’s face instead. Sleepless nights and long patrols.

Maybe it’s time the king stepped in, huh?

“Hey, hey- let’s talk outside, alright? No arguing in front of the kid.”

The simian leaps over the table with a fluid start, clearing it without trouble. He lands easily in front of a very unamused MK.

“…fine. Outside. As for you- I want to see you at least halfway through that basket by the time I’m back inside. Do not make me say it again.”

Folding under your mentor’s stern tone, you snatch a handful of the greasy appetizer and a condiment package, tucking in without a word. MK tries to remake the best out of even a bad situation- getting you to fill your stomach after a long period spent rejecting food makes him a little less upset about the whole thing.

“Are you mad?” Is the tentative question from between your lips.

“I’m not mad. Stay here and eat, Clover. Can you do that for me?”

With a nod, you return to the basket of fries, grabbing more packages from the end of the table. He’s angry (somewhat) at Wukong, not you. He wouldn’t still be calling you ‘Clover’ if he was.”

The Great Sage doesn’t have the same worried and upset expression- he reaches put to ruffle his old student’s hair, grinning ear to ear. With a lopsided smirk, he hauls MK away from the table and out of the burger joint.

And though the renowned Knight wants to launch into a lecture, or maybe even get physical- Sun Wukong interrupts his intentions with a big hug.

“I missed you, bud! I’m glad you’ve been doing well, huh? Sorry I haven’t been staying in touch with you!”

The hero freezes for a moment, overwhelmed by the sudden surge of warmth and unconditional support. God, when was the last time that he was just held? He really should be tearing into Wukong for taking you so far from home without permission or notice, but… it’s so hard to focus on anything but just how right the world feels at the moment.

“You… you need to leave a note next time. Or- or send a text. I worry. You know that I worry about everything.”

“I know,” the king chuckles, holding the knight like he was still a kid. “I know, bud. Just take a minute to catch your breath. I’ve gotcha, MK.”

“…you’ve got me?”

“Always, bud.”

MK allows himself to go slack, collapsing in the warm arms of the sunny simian. Wukong hauls him back inside, waving to you with a smile. He props the man against your side and slides into the booth with a hearty laugh, slowly rubbing his back.

“It’s gonna be okay, bud. Everything is gonna be okay.”

If he were less tired, less worried, less “running on four hours of sleep”, MK might have not believed him. He might’ve put up more of a fight. But his head is foggy, his limbs are already limp.

So MK puts his trust into the king once more, and chooses to close his eyes.

And for just a moment for the first time in months, maybe years- his life is peaceful.

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere LMK #Let’s Start Over #Yandere MK #Mei #Sun Wukong

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mlmxreader · 2 days

Text

Conflict Of Interest | Dean Winchester x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ “Sit down. We need to talk about whatever the fuck this is between us”

With dean please? ❞

: ̗̀➛ You and Dean certainly have a conflict of interest when it comes to one another.

: ̗̀➛ [trigger warnings] swearing, alcohol consumption

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Dean watched with a clenched jaw as you made your way around the bunker in just a pair of boxers and a tight camouflage vest; his green eyes almost as dark as the fabric on your torso, if his grip on his beer bottle grew any tighter he would have shattered it with ease.

But you didn't seem to care as you draped yourself over Castiel's back, leaning against him with your chest on his back and your arms dangled over his; asking him about the book he was reading. Sam and Jack were in the other room, talking quietly and going through the different ways to kill monsters.

Of course, Dean wanted to say something, to stand up and snap at you and tell you to quit acting like that; but he couldn't. He knew he didn't have any right to.

So he sat there, clenching his jaw and his bottle all the same.

You kept doing it, walking around the bunker in tight, revealing clothes whenever Castiel and Rowena were around, so brazenly flirting with them. Dean fucking hated it.

He had always had his eye on you, ever since his father had introduced you; thanks to Bobby being your "uncle" and raising you when your family were killed by a vampire nest.

It was instant infatuation, and with only two years between you both, you had a lot in common.

Over the years, the more you both met, the more Dean had grown infatuated with you. With you now living at the bunker as well, it was only getting worse.

So much worse.

You came to sit opposite him, legs spread and a soft smile on your lips; you tilted your head to the side, gently taking the bottle from him and taking a purposefully long and slow swig. Dean couldn't take his eyes off of you, licking his lips and doing his best not to just blurt it all out.

But then you passed the bottle back, and stood up about to leave all over again. Dean couldn't risk it, shaking his head.

"Sit down."

"Beg pardon?"

"I said, sit down. We need to talk about whatever the fuck this is between us," he said, almost harsh as he tightly clenched his jaw.

You obliged, daring to sit beside him instead as you leaned back slightly and folded your hands on your stomach. "Dean."

"What's with you?" He asked, his voice low and grumbling. "Flirtin' with Cas, with Rowena - walkin' around in next to nothin'."

You shrugged as you smiled. "It's called having fun and being comfortable."

He didn't seem convinced, eyeing you with great suspicion and leaning back slightly. "Is that it?"

"Why?" You scoffed, playful as you raised your brows. "You jealous?"

He looked away, hoping that it would conceal the small amount of blush on his features but knowing that it would never. "So what?"

"You can just tell me," you told him, your voice a lot more stable, less playful. Almost serious. "You never know, it might even be reciprocated."

Dean glanced your way, debating whether or not he should; it would make things awkward, surely. You and Sam were good friends, after all, and although you had always been closer to Dean, he still felt like it would put a rift between him and his brother.

After all, you were probably the only one who stuck around throughout, and despite everything; you never gave up on either of them, always at their beck and call even when you shouldn't have been.

But then Dean caught your gaze, and his breath hitched in his throat as his eyes went a little wide, his throat suddenly feeling rather dry. He licked his lips, time going by like a massively slowed down heartbeat. Seconds turning to days as he swiped a hand down his face and glared at you.

"It doesn't leave this room," he told you lowly. "You don't tell Cas. Or Sammy."

You nodded, smiling. "Keep things casual?"

He shook his head, daring to sit beside you as he cleared his throat. "I'm thinkin' more in case anythin' happens. Like if you wanna call it quits."

You could understand where he was coming from. It might have gotten awkward otherwise, and then there was the conflict of interest whilst hunting as well - it made sense to keep it a secret from the boys. "What about during hunts? Pretend married couple?"

Dean relaxed a little, seemingly relieved as he held his hand out. "You got it."

You shook his hand, pulling on it gently to bring him closer so that you could look right into his eyes. "It's a deal, partner."

The blush returned to his face, a little darker and a little more prominent on his cheekbones and the tips of his ears and nose as he swallowed hard and audibly.

"Partner? Gotta nice ring to it."

You rolled your eyes, trying not to laugh as you hummed softly and dared to pull him a little closer. "You wanna hash out some details... or do you wanna get to business?"

Immediately, Dean perked up at the suggestion, grinning brightly and nodding slowly as he followed your lead; taking a quick look to make sure no one noticed that you were escaping together. But as you lead him down the hallways, he paused in front of his room. "Mine or yours?"

You considered it for a moment, knowing that your room was a little further down and a little more private - but his was right there, and the temptation was almost too much to actually resist. But you had to be smart, so you tugged his hand gently.

"Mine - more private."

Dean was all too eager to agree, nearly tripping over his own feet as he chased after you in the corridor; laughing softly the second that your bedroom door closed behind him and grabbing you to pull you close.

"You sure?"

You nodded, putting your hands on his shoulders and grinning. "I'm sure."

if you made it to the end of this fic and you enjoyed it, then please, if you have any cash to spare, maybe donate to Tahani to help her save her children & husband in Gaza 🫶🏻

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k-odyssey · 3 days

Text

I've finally watched episode 8 of Lovely Runner.

First of all, Sun Jae's so cute! I love the duality of him, being both a cool superstar and the kind of man who barely manages to act normal around his crush. He works so hard to conceal just how much he likes her!

Second: that was a good first kiss. (Yes, I remember the drunken teenage kiss but that doesn't really count for me. They didn't have the same level of information back then. He was a teenager and she was drunk.) I liked that he sensed her pulling back, and let her meet him halfway instead. She had a choice in this, and she decided she wanted him.

It especially matters for him, I think, because he's very conscious of the fact that he liked her first and (kinda) liked her more. She's turned him away before/there's history. So it's basic decency but also, of course he wouldn't force anything on her. He wouldn't have said a word if she hadn't spoken about her feelings first. Thanks drunken friend spilling all of Sun Jae's secrets in front of the girl he likes, I guess. And he didn't do it on purpose either lol.

I don't usually get how a character would still be in love with their first crush at age 30 but Sun Jae does a convincing job. And the Sol he knew is pretty much exactly the same Sol as now. So it tracks. Plus it must be hard, as a celebrity, to figure out if people sincerely like you. So there is the appeal of someone from long ago, who knew you before they turned you into a marketing product. (Although technically Sol never knew him as anything other than Sun Jae who is/ who'll become an idol. But he doesn't know that. Will she ever tell him the whole truth?)

Third: this is exactly what I expected from the psycho taxi driver, and my point stands about the crime aspect of the story. Though you could argue that Sun Jae not being depressed, he didn't take anti-anxiety drugs, which might be why he's alive this time. But I have a feeling he opened his door even though he knew he was in danger!! Which they always do, and it kills me. Would it be so hard to write a scene where a character does NOT have a choice in being harmed? But I should reserve judgement, I haven't seen the flashback yet.

Also, as always, I'm sad that we rarely get dramas about people with visible disabilities and when we do, that part gets erased as the story goes on. It was cool to see a character in a wheelchair, but of course she'd walk again in her happy ending... And it feels like she gets a job because she can walk, pretty much. I hope we get to see her try to change the world for wheelchair users, even if it's in the background, just a little bit. That'd be cool, knowing what she went through.

#kdrama thoughts #lovely runner

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alwaysonf1 · 1 day

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now?

Pairing: Charles LeClerc x Hamilton!OC

Genre: Slice of Life; Fluff

Word Count: 502

Warning: N/A

Rating: PG-13

Author's Note: Dates and times don't matter.

The days before media day are usually ones where drivers aren’t expected to be at the track for long, but this is a track that has been off the calendar for so long that none of the twenty drivers feel comfortable enough to leave exploring it for later in the week. Especially Charles, who has walked the thing twice and is halfway through a scooter “walkthrough.” His mind is focused solely on mapping things out and imagining himself in his car taking the route. It’s a struggle, but it’s helping calm his nerves.

A hand slamming down onto his shoulder throws off his concentration and startles him. Other drivers have gone by him, but he’d been alone for several minutes.

As he calms his racing heart he meets Lewis’ gaze. He wishes he hadn’t though. Charles has rarely seen the older man look angry, he hides it well even when he’s voicing displeasure, but right in this moment Charles feels fear enter his body. Something tells him he’s in danger, though he can’t fathom why. He opens his mouth to ask questions, but Lewis raises his phone so that it’s eye level with Charles. That makes him a little more confused, but then he squints at the screen and his heart rate picks up again.

“No, no, no, no. It’s not what…”

“I know it isn’t. At least it better not be?”

Charles shakes his head. “It is not.”

“Then how are you going to fix it? I don’t appreciate my sister seeing shit like this. And I don’t like the comments it’s bringing to her social media.”

“I… I didn’t know that that was up. I would have… This would be down and I would have dealt with it if I knew.”

Lewis softens, but not much. “Well, you know now, fix it.”

With that he leaves. Lewis’ scootering away doesn’t deescalate the heightened emotions Charles feels and George appearing and following Lewis doesn’t either. Even if the Brit turns back to give Charles a tense, but reassuring smile.

Another thing he would know about him, but at least this time Charles would know how George got the information.

But he couldn’t even find it in himself to think about that for too long, pulling out his phone and hopping online to see all the posts he’d been tagged in. They’re tamer than the ones he wasn’t tagged in and his hand unconsciously moved to his hair to tug at it.

Of course, the one time he would have preferred to not be seen with an ex he is, while all the other times it wouldn’t have mattered, he'd flown under the radar. He’s sure that the rumors about him and Iman are partly to blame for the increase in eyes on him, but he can’t bring himself to blame the girl who’d seen them that first time or the people at the club.

“Fuck!” he shouts.

After taking a breath, he pockets his phone and races back to the garage.

charlesleclerc Maybe be sure about who I give my affection to before posting.

immyham charles

‎ ‎↳charlesleclerc mon ange, I told you I couldn't help myself

logansargeant RETWEET

‎ ‎↳lewishamilton retweet

‎ ‎↳georgerussell retweet

↳alex_albon retweet

↳lilymhe retweet

↳oscarpiastri retweet

user not him just full on hard launching

↳user It's not like we didn't know

user Oop not the grid in the comments also calling y'all out? Even Oscar. Apologies with tears from all of you immediately.

user They're so cute

hateruser Oh...

user And y'all better not bring up his ex either.

user he told y'all to shut the fuck up LOL

immyham well my soft launch is ruined, but i'm still going to post this because it's cute. maybe when someone learns to not go rouge he'll get his own dump

lewishamilton Why you make it look like I was flipping you off?

‎ ‎↳immyham uh because you were????

charlesleclerc I won't say sorry, mon ange.

‎ ‎↳immyham 🙄

user he calls her mon ange 😍

user They're so cute

user and y'all swore charles would never

user HA I WAS RIGHT

user logan and her looking like menaces to society

user not her failed soft launch including all three of her favorite men. immy is so cute

hateruser Ew, he should have gotten back with his ex.

#charles leclerc x black reader #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x black!reader #formula one x black reader #formula one x reader #formula 1 x black!reader #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 imagine #formula one x oc #formula 1 x oc #charles leclerc x oc

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oliversrarebooks · 3 hours

Text

The Rare Bookseller Part 51: Oliver's Anticipation

Prev > Masterlist

tw: burns, mind control, body control

October 1925

Alexander's sire would be here at midnight sharp.

Oliver had woken up in his master's chambers, pitch black and smelling of woodsmoke and book bindings, with cold arms wrapped around him. For just a moment, it felt like a strange nightmare, until he remembered where he was.

Perhaps still a nightmare, but an increasingly familiar and strangely comforting one.

Warming his master's bed really hadn't been unpleasant, though. Oliver had enjoyed a truly restful sleep under Alexander's spell, and with all of his anxiety over the next evening's social call, it was just as well.

There was a sore spot on his chest, and when he reached for it, he found it was protected by a thick bandage. Where did that come from? His memories of the night before were so fuzzy. He remembered fretting by himself, Alexander coming home drunk... and Miss Lily was there too...

"Mmm." Without warning, his master stirred, and gripped Oliver tight to his chest. "Fitz..."

Oliver's chest clenched. "Um, it's me, sir. Oliver. Your thrall."

"Hm? Oh. Sorry. Yes. Don't know what I was thinking." Alexander's grasp mercifully loosened, and he rolled over on his back, freeing Oliver. "What are you doing here?"

"Um -- I think Miss Lily told me to -- warm your bed, sir? I confess I don't quite remember, but if I've broken any rule and you want me to leave, I'll leave right away, sir."

"No, no, no. You're fine. I don't quite remember either, but no doubt I wanted you to be here." He reached out and touched the bandage on Oliver's chest. "Oh, yes. That was why."

"What is it, sir?"

"...A mark. An unfortunate but necessary one."

"A mark, sir?" The wound on his chest throbbed.

"You can see when you take the bandage off. You'll need to clean it, too. We'll both need to get cleaned up before midnight," he said. "And you'll want to eat, as well. I can take care of my own preparations. It's better if he's distracted by my faults, anyway. Less attention for you. Anyway, you should go on."

Oliver looked around the inky black room, remembering what a mess Alexander's floor was. He wasn't even sure quite where the door was located.

"Is there something else, Oliver?"

"I can't see, sir."

"...Yes, of course. Wait a moment, I'll light a lamp."

Oliver could hear his master fumbling around in the dark.

"This one's out of oil, damn it. Hang on, I know there's another just... here."

The dim flame lit up the room just enough for Oliver to get his bearings. He was surprised at how reluctant he was to roll out of his master's bed. He could get used to this, and he'd probably need to, given how much his master seemed to appreciate his presence or at least his temperature.

Emerging back out into the drafty, cold manor brought Oliver back to his worries and fears, the ones he had spent the previous evening turning over and over, the one that his master's spell had taken away from him for a while. "...Master?" he said, impulsively poking his head back into the door, hoping he wasn't breaking any rule.

"Yes, what is it, Oliver?"

"...If it's not too much trouble, sir... could you help me to sleep again, at the end of tonight?"

"Of course I can," said Alexander, who sounded quite pleased. "It would be my pleasure, any time."

"Thank you, sir."

The thought of his master's spell of bliss helped calm Oliver's nerves enough to attend to his breakfast and hygiene, and to ignore the ticking of the clocks on the walls.

But he was still acutely aware of the fact that his master's sire would be here at midnight sharp.

Breakfast was a sombre affair, as Oliver found himself without much appetite, choking down a few slices of toast solely because he didn't want to face the night on an empty stomach. Hygiene was an equally somber affair, a short and joyless bath and shave. Oliver peeled off the bandage to find a round and painful scar, swollen and indistinct.

A burn? His master had burned him? Alexander had called it "unfortunate but necessary," and Oliver couldn't figure out what that would mean. He must have been very deeply under his master's spell to not remember a thing.

When he returned to his bedroom, there was a modest blue dress laid out for him on his bed. He donned it and looked at himself in the mirror, heart thumping in his chest.

His master's sire would be here at midnight sharp.

As soon as Oliver descended the staircase, he was met by Alexander, who looked more put together than he had at any other point Oliver had seen him. He was wearing a sharp suit and his mop of hair was neatly combed. Oliver couldn't help but wonder how had he groomed himself without the aid of a mirror or assistance -- but that was hardly the most pressing question on his mind.

"My sire will be here at midnight sharp," Alexander repeated the words stuck in Oliver's hand like a protective mantra. "Here, let me straighten your dress. You have a lock of hair out of place here, too."

Oliver let himself be fussed over. "Sir, can I ask about the mark on my chest?"

"My sire requires his thralls to be branded, and requires the same of me," Alexander explained. "I don't intend to be under his thumb forever, but for now, I must acquiesce to his rules." His face grew even more grim and sour. "That's why I must allow him to drink from you."

Branded. He'd been branded. That little voice buried deep within him wanted to protest about a permanent mark done without his permission, but it was easily overruled. After all, he was here to serve his master forever, wasn't he?

"I understand, sir," said Oliver, swallowing hard. Why was this so difficult for him? It was a service his master required, and Miss Lily had taught him that his primary purpose was to provide blood for vampires. But Alexander's unease made it impossible for his heart to calm.

"I would provide a spell to soothe you or prevent you from feeling pain, if I could, but he would detect it and make things worse for both of us. Unfortunately, I have to ask you to be obedient once more. Do not struggle against his control, do not lie, and do not disobey."

"Yes, sir," said Oliver, shivering as he recalled how it felt when his body moved on its own. "Sir, may I ask another question, one which is possibly impertinent?"

"Of course, Oliver, you have free permission to ask questions, as always. I just may not choose to answer."

"...Why is your sire so terrifying, sir?"

His master looked up at him in surprise, then let out a sharp laugh without mirth. "Straight to the point. An excellent question. One which has often kept me awake through the day." He sighed. "Well, he does have the power to puppet your body against your will on a whim. He can do that to me, as well -- since a sire always has power over their sired. But even that, terrifying as it is, is not the whole of it, is it?"

"No, sir, it isn't."

"He's a traditionalist, of course. He believes that humans only exist to serve vampires and should have no will of their own. But if that's all it were, he'd merely erase his thralls' minds, as some of my kind do," he said. "I've always thought that, despite his unparalleled power, he is simply... miserable."

"Miserable, sir?"

"Miserable and perhaps even lonely. He doesn't allow himself companions among vampires or humans. He only takes pleasure in cruelty. I could almost pity him, if he weren't the greatest threat to me and mine." Alexander once again reached over to fuss with Oliver's dress and hair. "I expect that's not a satisfactory answer, but it's the best I can provide to you."

"It's satisfactory enough, sir." An image flashed through Oliver's mind, one long buried. His father, stumbling in drunk once more, towering over him. He shook his head. No, it wouldn't do to think of that now. He had to be brave.

His master's sire would be here at midnight sharp, and all too soon, the chimes rang throughout the house. One, two...

And one beat after the twelfth chime, exactly in rhythm with the grandfather clock in the library, there were three knocks on the front door.

"You must answer the door, Oliver. I'll receive him in the music room."

His master disappeared before Oliver could respond, leaving his heart to thump out of its chest as he walked to the front door. As he opened it, he found himself frozen to the spot before he could even fully take in what he was seeing.

He caught a glimpse of the man from the ballet as he was forced into a low, uncomfortable curtsy. Alexander's sire was dressed much as he was then, all in black with a long silver ponytail, posture straight as an arrow.

"Good evening, sir," said Oliver, trying his best to keep himself relaxed and not fight against the bonds gripping his limbs. He had to be the perfect thrall, for both himself and Alexander's sake.

"Good evening," said that entrancing voice. If Alexander's voice was like gentle waves washing over his mind, the Maestro's voice was like a metronome, forcing Oliver's thoughts into an inflexible rhythm. "I trust your master is prepared for this social call?"

"Yes, sir, he will be receiving you in the music room."

"Very well. Follow." With a crisp snap, Oliver was marching behind him like a toy soldier at attention, his thoughts racing even as his body's movements were unnaturally precise.

He could do this. He could. He could make his master proud.

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Thanks for reading! Next week, the conclusion to Oliver's evening.

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