#and take the time to just be still have been the most deeply restful and growing times
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𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖕𝖎𝖙𝖆𝖑 ,
(OS Eddie Munson x reader)
summary: You catch Eddie red-handed.
word count: 3k +
warnings: +18, friends to lovers, caught jerking off, handjob, oral (m receives), cum in mouth, all this in a hospital.
a/n: hi! so, im dropping this one-shot without pronouns so everyone can vibe with it. just a random idea i had, nothing too crazy
masterlist
━━ ✧♡✧ ━━ ✧♡✧ ━━ ✧♡✧ ━━
Eddie was lying on the hospital stretcher, his face reflecting a mixture of satisfaction, annoyance and relief. "Mmhmm, fuck, yeah, right there..." he sighed, while a slight tremor ran through his closed eyelids. His toes curved involuntarily, reacting to the feeling he had longed for. His long hair, usually tied in a bun given to the summer heat, had come loose and now it fell disorderly on his forehead, dark strands stuck to his skin by sweat.
There you were, his unconditional, only person he trusted to carry out this delicate mission. With the precision of a surgeon, you had inserted one of his forks into the narrow opening of the plaster that imprisoned his hand. You moved the fork carefully, gently scratching the palm that had been for weeks without feeling the slightest touch. Eddie twisted slightly every time the fork touched a new point on his palm, sending a wave of relief through his immobilized arm. "There, there... That's it!" He exclaimed whimpering with satisfaction more deeply, every time you manage to calm that unattainable itching that tormented him so much. The room was silent, except for Eddie's occasional moans of comfort and the soft rubbing of metal against plaster. It was an intimate moment, not because of their nature, but because of the trust and connection they shared. Finally, after several minutes that seemed eternal to Eddie, he sighed deeply, a sign that you had completed your task. "Fuck...," he murmured, gratitude shining in his eyes when he opened them and met yours. "I don't know what I would do without you."
The night Eddie was injured was one of those occasions that would be remembered not because of the music, but because of the chaos that followed. Corroded Coffin, your band, had gotten a concert in a biker bar on the outskirts of the city, a place known for its rude clientele and unbridled atmosphere. The band was excited, especially Eddie, who always sought to push things to the limit. The place was small and the stage barely an elevation above the ground, only a little higher than the shoulders of an average man. Your battery occupied most of the space, leaving little room for the rest of the members. The crowd that night was scarce; less than fifteen souls gathered near the stage, lost in their own conversations and drinks. Eddie, under the influence of substances that promised a night without inhibitions, decided that it would be a good idea to try to surf over the crowd. In an impulse, he threw himself into the void, hoping to be held by the hands of the spectators. But the audience, taken by surprise, dispersed quickly, leaving a void where Eddie hoped to find support. He fell heavily, his right arm hitting the ground first. The sound of something breaking was almost as loud as the music. In a desperate attempt to cushion the fall, he extended his other hand, the left, which was still holding the microphone. His fingers were crushed between the metal and the ground, and a sharp pain ran through his body. Eddie's screams were mixed with the music as the audience, now aware of the situation, approached to help. The show stopped abruptly, and the confusion took over the place. Gareth jumped off the stage, followed by the rest of the band, as they tried to understand the severity of Eddie's injuries. Eddie's right arm was clearly broken, hanging at an unnatural angle, and his left fingers were swollen and deformed. The night ended not with applause, but with sirens, while an ambulance arrived to take Eddie to the nearest hospital.
The recovery would be long and tedious. Eddie would have to learn to do things with his non-dominant hand and endure the pain and frustration of not being able to play his guitar, and something more than this. The plaster in his dominant hand drastically limited his mobility, while the bandage in the other imposed additional restrictions on him. Every daily task became a titanic task, from tying your shoes to reaching for a glass on the highest shelf. Frustration and pain were constant companions in his day to day, and the inability to play his beloved guitar only intensified his despair. The night was particularly difficult for Eddie. Accustomed to releasing his sexual tension through masturbation, he was now deprived of this relief. His excitement was palpable, a constant reminder of his unmet need. In his mind, he relived past moments of solitary pleasure, now unattainable due to his condition.
In the midst of his anguish, he turned to you, his lifelong friend. You did all the tasks he couldn't do, except the most important, at least for him.
Although he had always seen you as a loyal partner, now he was beginning to notice a different spark in your presence. He remembered the nights in the pub, when the music enveloped the room and your presence was as comforting as it was stimulating. In those moments, he saw you with new eyes, a vision that was now intensified with his frustration and repressed sexual need. Your presence, and the minimal visualization of your collarbone through that t-shirt, only served to kindle the fire of his desire. Every adjustment in the bandage or every accidental contact caused a wave of forbidden sensations. Eddie was in a state of constant excitement, his body longing for liberation and satisfaction, and those noises were not of relief, but also of pleasure.
Eddie's cock was beating with an almost painful urgency, trapped between his thighs, anxious to be released. However, she was trapped under the thin sheets of the hospital, and the idea of being discovered in that state was too embarrassing to contemplate.
While the nurses completed their last night care, giving him medication and making sure everything was in order, Eddie got impatient. Although he wanted to be discharged, he knew it was not yet the right time. Possibly his recovery was delayed due to unexpected complications or the need for more medical tests to ensure his full recovery.
You decided to say goodbye to Munson and leave the room, since you had to prepare for the next day's classes. With a slight touch on his arm you said goodbye, and as you walked away, Eddie couldn't help but admire your movements, watching your uncovered legs move.
When you finally left, Eddie strongly separated his thighs, releasing his cock that was full of weeks of accumulated desire. The burning need for satisfaction consumed him, but with his dominant hand immobilized, he knew that he could not resort to his usual methods. However, instead of surrendering to frustration, he began to devise a plan to find relief from his sexual urgency.
The whisper of the sheets when touching each other filled the room, accompanied by the soft buzz of the lights in the hallway that filtered through the ajar door. Eddie twisted in bed, struggling to free himself from the oppression of his underpants without risking bending his non-dominant hand and causing more pain. Every move was a challenge, and sweat beaded his forehead as he strove to reach his goal. "Fuck, c’mon..." he murmured in a barely audible whisper, aware that the elderly patient next to him, separated with a sheet carefully arranged by his wife, was soundly asleep. The roommate's advanced age gave him some confidence, knowing that he probably wouldn't realize if Munson decided to look for a little pleasure in the middle of the night.
With trembling movements, Eddie finally managed to lower his underpants, releasing his throbbing erection. The temptation was overwhelming, and although he knew that it was not the right time or place, the urgency of his sexual need pushed him forward. His cock stood up with a sober and natural majesty. Its size, although not exaggerated, exhibited a perfect proportion, promising satisfaction without being intimidating. The skin that wrapped it was smooth and soft to the touch, with a slightly velvety texture that invited contact. The blue and prominent veins meandered along their length, highlighting their vascularity and suggesting a latent potency. Each vein seemed to pulsate with a life of its own, marking the rhythm of its pulse and the urgency of its desire. The thickness of its member was remarkable, filling the hand with a comforting firmness. However, its form was not only physical, but also aesthetic. A soft curve adorned its contour, adding a natural elegance to its appearance. Each strand of hair seemed to delicately caress the skin, adding a feeling of texture and depth to its appearance.
You had gone out the door, the sound of your steps was fading in the hallway. But then, a twinge of oblivion stopped you; you had left your glasses. You turned on your steps, opened the door without making any noise, carefully sliding the sheet, and there was Munson, struggling with his cock, trying to reach that unreachable point with his hand. You stood still, observing. An accomplice silence spread between you, only interrupted by the slight rubbing of his fingers against the thin skin that covered his entire cock.
You were frozen in the room, watching the scene with a mixture of surprise and fascination. Eddie's cock was just as you had imagined it, but seeing it in that state, struggling with the need for satisfaction, caused a heat to start forming in your pants. Your cheeks blushed at the intensity of the moment, feeling trapped between shame and a growing excitement.
He, oblivious to your presence at first, seemed to be trapped in his own world of despair and desire. With clumsy movements and limited by his injury, he was looking for a way out of his sexual torment. That's when he had the great idea of turning his body slightly and rubbing against the mattress, simulating the movement of a sexual relationship. His movements were cautious at first, but soon they became more fluid and rhythmic. His eyes were closed, lost in the feeling of self-induced pleasure, while you watched the scene with a mixture of fascination and bewilderment. "Mmhmm..." he moaned, so you felt as if some butterflies were hitting your stomach hard. It seemed as if they were eating you inside. You were completely hot, but you decided to intervene, since it didn't seem appropriate to be observing Eddie at a time like this.
"Edd...?" You whispered, capturing all his attention. At that moment, shame completely invaded you. You were totally embarrassed, even more than him. You felt as if you had invaded his privacy, as if you were witnessing something intimate and personal that I should never have seen.
When Eddie finally listened to you, his reaction was instant and tumultuous. He was completely startled, his body tense and his eyes wide open in a gesture of panic. He began to randomly insult out loud, a cascade of curses that filled the room and made you jump in surprise. "Shit! Fuck! What are you doing here?!" Eddie shouted, his voice full of shame and despair. He clung to the nearest sheet, trying to cover himself, but when he bent his hand he hurt himself, and a deep moan of pain escaped from his lips. The situation became more and more tense when you noticed that the old man in the bed next door began to frown, a sign that he could wake up at any moment. Without thinking twice, you rushed to where Eddie was, tightly covering his thick lips with your hand and staring at his round eyes, trying to convey the urgency of the situation with your gaze.
When you approached Eddie, with the urgency of the palpable situation in the air, you felt how his cock, through the sheet, was in contact with your side. A shudder ran through your body as she perceived the heat emanating from it, like a burning ember that burned the skin and stoked the flame of excitement. Everything in you began to tremble, from your hands to your legs that barely held your weight. You felt like a flan, on the verge of collapse, at any moment you could collapse me in the face of the intensity of the situation.
"What are you doing, idiot?" You asked whispering, your voice just a murmur full of annoyance and shame. Your eyes were desperately looking for theirs, looking for some answer or sign of repentance in their gaze. "Why you beating your meat in a hospital, asshole?" You kept whispering, your tone of voice mixed frustration and worry. Even covering his lips firmly, you hoped that your words would make him reflect on the seriousness of his behavior and the need to contain himself in a place as inappropriate as that.
With his left hand, Eddie pushed yours away, finally allowing him to breathe normally, although his face was totally reddened by shame. "I haven't come or jerked off for a month, so don't question what I do or where," he also whispered in defense, his altered tone revealed his overexcitement and the urgency of his unmet need.
His words hit you hard, reminding you of the internal struggle he was facing. "And what?! You should go to the bathroom!" You answered him, your voice equally whispering but full of frustration, gesticulating forcefully near him to emphasize your point.
"I can't! That's why I'm doing it here!" Eddie exclaimed, his despair palpable in every word.
"What do you mean you can't?" You asked, trying to understand the situation while you struggled to contain your own confusion and dismay.
"Well, I can't jerk off, that's what happens! I need to cum," Eddie explained, his voice full of anguish and shame. The vulnerability of his confession resonated in the air, exposing the depth of his need and his inability to satisfy it in a conventional way.
You were silent, observing Munson's expression under the slight reflection that emanated from the moon. You were very hot for seeing him that way, so vulnerable, that you didn't think about what you said. "And... do you need help?" You murmured, letting the words escape from your lips without thinking about the consequences. As soon as you said that, Eddie's expression changed completely. Now he was pale, his eyes opened like plates, revealing a mixture of surprise and anxiety. However, you noticed how his cock moved slightly in response to your question, a non-verbal sign that your offer had been received with interest and excitement.
An uncomfortable silence filled the room while you looked at each other, each processing the situation differently.
"What exactly do you mean?" Eddie asked with a crooked smile, still unsure of his point.
"You would do the same for me, wouldn't you? Although I don't think I'll ever get to such a... perverted state of despair," you said laughing, feeling how the tension dissipated and a sexual warmth filled the room. Eddie settled down, crossing his arms over his chest and resting his back against the head of the bed. "You're the pervert, I don't know how long you'd been watching me," he replied with a mocking smile. "But yes, I know you would do the same for me. That's what friends do, isn't it?" He joked, noticing how his cock was begging for it to be uncovered and touched.
After that exchange of glances full of complicity, a tense silence took over the room, as if you were both weighing the meaning of what had just happened. You decided to break the silence by placing your ass on the bed, staring at Eddie with determination. You began to lower the sheet that covered him up to his chest, revealing what you both wanted so much. The excitement invaded you even more when you saw his body vulnerable and exposed to you. Your best friend was defenseless, and he couldn't do anything to stop you, which gave you a feeling of power and freedom to explore. The fact of being in a hospital, sharing a room, added an element of risk and emotion to the situation. You were in a semi-public place, which intensified the feeling of the forbidden and excitingness of your meeting.
Munson breathed with difficulty, his half-open lips let out his choppy breath, while the slight movements of his cock gently hit his abdomen, setting the rhythm of his desire. You decided to stop that by grabbing his erection, noticing how hot and wet it was. A shiver ran down your back when you felt its heat throbbing between your fingers, increasing your own excitement and anticipation for what was to come.
After starting gently, your movements became more energetic and determined. With your hand in his mouth to put out any noise, you began to pump even harder on his erection. Each onslaught was greeted with a drowned moan on his part, his hips were looking for more depth, and you gave it to him without hesitation.
The tension in the room was palpable, every sigh and every moan was proof of the unbridled passion you shared. Suddenly, without warning, you took your mouth towards his cock, staring into his eyes as your tongue began to draw circles around his member. Eddie's eyes rolled backwards in ecstasy, his hips moved with difficulty, responding to the expert movements of your tongue. Each lick was received with a deep and guttural moan on his part, his voice vibrated against your fingers as he struggled to contain the overwhelming pleasure that invaded him.
And suddenly, without warning, you felt his body tense, how his voice vibrated against your fingers, and how his warm and sticky liquid soaked your cheeks inside, filling your mouth with its unique and delicious flavor. A moan escaped from your lips in response, an echo of his pleasure that mixed with yours in the air full of desire. “Uhh… fuck, yes…”
Taking his member out of your mouth gracefully, you looked at him with a naughty smile. "I thought you were going to hold on longer..." you joked, before swallowing everything that Eddie had expelled for his cock.
"I told you that I hadn't cum for almost a month..." Eddie stressed with a smile, running his thumb over your lips, picking up some of his remains. With a seductive gesture, you brought his thumb to your mouth, allowing it to enter slightly, savoring the sweet taste of its essence.
#fanfic#stranger things#eddie munson stranger things#eddiemunson#eddie munson one shot#eddie munson#eddie munson reader insert#reader#eddie the freak munson#stranger things 4#enemies to friends to lovers#oneshot#one shot#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x masc!reader#eddie munson writing#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x female character#eddie munson smut#smut
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@disastergenius replied to your post “perhaps unpopular but while I do agree the EXU...”:
re: this party doesn't talk much; i think that narratively, fcg's death isn't the call for them to talk in the way that molly's was? Molly's death happened early and bc of molly, but it was the wake-up call the party needed while separated and to actually begin to work together. bh's have different problems and fcg's death wasn't a result of party but was fcg's decision. so it also makes sense that it's not bringing the group together or anything, it's just mourning
So I think this is part of it but I also wanted to post this as a full response because I've been thinking a lot about this! In short...having experienced a death within a friend group, people respond in weird ways, and for the most part, with the caveat that this was a friend among my friends from college and she died when we were all adults in various different cities and therefore not necessarily closely in touch all the time, we did not have a big sit-down and go around talking about our feelings. It's much slower. And I've talked a lot with people who have experienced a death within a friend group that was closer. Sometimes the group falls apart dramatically. Sometimes it just drifts apart. Sometimes it's sort of a weird blank space no one knows how to deal with.
I found Ashton's behavior in particular to be really well done on Taliesin's part and deeply affecting. They're exhausted not just mechanically but emotionally, and they don't want to really talk to anyone, but they do very much want some kind of comfort that doesn't require a lot of effort and most importantly, they don't want to be alone. When I had to learn about the (Jewish) religious practices surrounding grief and mourning, one of the things they tell you about sitting shiva (and to be clear this is not unique to shiva, it's just that Judaism has very clear time delineations of the mourning process) is that sometimes you just go there and sit with someone who doesn't want to talk much. His reaction felt incredibly real and natural, is what I'm saying. Grief can be isolating and tiring and difficult to talk about.
It feels right for the others too. Like...we can talk about the rapid pacing but that's been the case for much of the campaign, and no, I didn't like the EXU decision but what's done is done. I think deciding to, as Chetney said in 92, "make it count" seems very natural. I do hope there are conversations in Zadash and/or Aeor but at this point "we're drunk and tired and aren't ready to really feel this", especially since in-world, everything might be over in a week or so, makes a lot of sense. I also think FCG's death has united the party at least in the sense of purpose, and I think some people just dislike that the purpose is "double down on the moon plot." I think at the very least we'll have to visit it when they tell Imahara Joe (and hopefully Dancer, too.)
Ultimately, again, while I do love the episodes after Molly's death, episode 27 only has three party members in it, and episode 30 is arguably more about Fjord and Jester and Yasha being rescued (and on a meta level, welcoming Travis and Laura back to the table after parental leave) and incorporating Caduceus into the group as it is about Molly being dead. A lot of the conversations are about that, and 31 is very much about fucking around in Zadash and doing weird shit! Jester and Veth make Molly illusions not long after while on Darktow! The effects of Molly's death ripple through, quite honestly, the entire rest of the campaign and the grief is very nonlinear. Again, I adore episode 2x30, but I think one should be careful not to overly romanticize it; the party is still very much working through those initial feelings throughout the entire pirates arc, which takes place over the span of a couple of months. Bells Hells might not have months, and it might not get explored to the same extent, but I do think we'll see the effects nonetheless.
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Consumed with thoughts on Earendil, Elwing and their relationship with their sons and grandchildren.
Like… you lose your children. At first you think they are dead, that they have been murdered in cold blood, slaughtered by monsters like so many innocent children before them. You agonise over it, imagining there last moments, if they knew what was happening, how scared they were, if they thought nanna and ada would save them. You grieve and you mourn, you rage at the injustice and rally against it, you tear down one of the evils that loomed of your children their entire life and wish you could take vengeance on the other.
You think that if your children do meet the fate of elves and you pray that they do, you will see them reborn into a world that is safe for them, devoid of hunger and fear and lurking monsters.
But then your children are alive. They survived. They lived as prisoners, hostages and if rumours are to be believed as the adoptive sons of their captors. All this time you thought they were dead not knowing they were waiting on you to rescue them. You did not know that the monsters had kept them and you do not know what the monsters did to them while they had them.
When you learnt this it felt like the world had stopped that you have been left to hold your breath in anticipation for what is to come. You wait by the docks and you listen to the rumours and messengers that pass through them. You fill your tower with all of the things you knew they loved. You paint their walls with murals and make sure their beds are always prepared. In the end though, the seats you prepared for them at your dinner table remain empty for millennia. That is how long it takes for your child to return to you.
Child singular because though both of your children managed to make it through the horrors that formed their lives, only one chose to continue surviving. The news of this hurts, hurts so deeply you think it might never stop hurting. You have felt this pain before but it has not dulled since then, perhaps it has worsened.Once you had a child that you knew like the back of your hand, then he became an adult that you didn’t know, and the he became nothing but memory and history books. You will never get to relearn him personally, that chance is beyond you now by your child’s own choosing. You wonder if he thought of you when he made that choice, whether he knew how much it would hurt. Still, he made the decision he thought best for himself and for that you are proud even in your pain.
The child that returns to you, that beautiful precious child that you could not protect, returns to you as an adult. Like with his brother you missed every moment of his life. You missed his first love, his coming of age, his marriage, the birth of his children. He comes to you almost a stranger.
You can still see who you knew him to be, you see the curiosity of a child that liked to stick his head in books and ask a thousand questions and you see the kindness and empathy of a little boy who wept endlessly at broken winged birds, taking them in his small hands and singing sweet little tunes until they were healed. Now though he seems to be broken winged bird in his own right. The years and all of their burdens have weighed heavy on him, his face may be ever youthful but his fea seems ancient and most of his early time in Aman is spent resting and recovering. He does not know you either, he is unfamiliar with you and though sociable and friendly he seems just as lost as you.
He comes without his daughter. It is a strange thought on its own for your baby to have hits own baby but to know that his own child has been lost to him and you is a pain all too familiar. Here is another granddaughter you will never know to go with all of your dead son’s long dead children. Your grandsons do at least come home eventually but it makes your heart twist uncontrollably to look at them, to see two identical faces and not want to weep for what you have lost.
It does get better eventually. Your son heals, the weight on his shoulders lightens and he walks and dances and sings in merriment once more. You memorise his favourite foods and when you cook them for him and he receives these meals with fondness in his eyes. He tells you of his life, all of the awful parts but all of the good parts too and by the end you think you know him again. You no longer flinch when you look at your grandsons and they are no longer so uncomfortable around you. When you tell your own memories they mock your age but listen wide eyed. Your dinner table is occupied and noisy for the first time in its existence. You sit on the golden beaches outside your home watching your son throw his own sons around in the ocean while they all laugh endlessly and the world seems to be colourful again. You think this must be what it is to be content.
#silmarillion#silm#the silm#the silmarillion#silm writing#earendil#elwing#elros tar minyatur#elros#elrond#elrond peredhel#arwen undomiel#arwen#elrohir#elladen
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I'd love to know how you honour the Sabbath and keep it holy if you do observe it, if you have certain family/community practices or traditions, what denomination you're a part of and how that affects/forms your Sabbath-keeping, how and when you started observing the Sabbath, and what hopes/goals/thoughts you might have, if you don't observe and want to/don't observe regularly/don't observe in a way that is restful!
#saturdays for me sundays for the rest of my family! (i am the only anglican in a house of non denom Baptist-adjacent evangelicals)#the baseline is no work (work work or schoolwork) on saturdays for me! and i've been trying to figure out what is truly restful#instead of what is enjoyable but secretly productive which i can shoehorn in as a 'restful' activity#i spend time with my family on most saturdays! and don't have any particular church community practices yet#(since i'm now at a new church)#i'm an anglican and started intentionally observing sabbath in high school because i had a chat with one of the teachers#who was listening to my friend complain about not having the time to observe the sabbath and who said very placidly:#we make time for the things that are most important to us. and i was like miss you're so right i didn't think of it that way!#for the future i'd like to not be so focused on Doing Things xD i think i do a lot of Productive Things on saturdays#which i relabel as 'not work' because they're not technically schoolwork. but i've found that the days where i've#completely put away social media and screens and taken the time to enjoy creation and read my Bible and spend time with people#and take the time to just be still have been the most deeply restful and growing times#anyway i'd LOVE to hear your thoughts and stories!!#songbird again#faith&history&etc
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tw - dub/con, afab!reader, cockwarming, medical malpractice, nonconsensual drug use, manipulation, unbalanced power dynamics, and obsessive behavior.
[commissioned piece. donate to palestinians in gaza here.]
“It really is a shame to lose such a lovely patient.
His hand drifted from your thigh to your hip, rocking you back as you tried to squirm away from him. He was too deep, too big, and you’d been sitting on his cock for too long. Whenever you tried to shift your weight, though, the arm wrapped around your waist would tighten its hold and drag you back into place, leaving your ass slotted against his hips and your cunt struggling to clench around his base. You didn’t know how long he’d kept you like this, but it must’ve been longer than an hour, if not two, three, four. Despite your foggy senses, you could feel slick dripping down your thighs, an empty void in the pit of your stomach where pleasure should’ve been. You could remember hearing that Harper was a good doctor, but that couldn’t be right. Doctors weren’t supposed to make you feel so bad.
“I mean, I know it should be a doctor’s goal to see their patients off as happy and as healthy as can be, but—” He paused, sighed, and you could picture him rolling his eyes, feigning wistfulness as he let out an airy chuckle. “Good, obedient patients can be so rare, especially in a town like this. I’m allowed to mourn the loss of my best charge yet, aren’t I?”
You felt him twitch inside of you, and in search of a distraction, your gaze fell to the collection of papers fanned out over the desk in front of you. You knew you were supposed to be reading them, but the text seemed so impossibly small, and your last round of medication was still clouding your senses, making it hard to focus on much of anything beyond the throbbing in your core, the feeling of his cock stretching you open despite your body’s best attempts to force him out. You could recognize the phrases, signal out words like ‘unfit’ and ‘dependent’ mixed in with the rest of the benign text, but when you tried to put it all together, none of it made sense. It was all you could do to check the boxes Harper pointed to, sign your name on any dotted lines that hadn’t already been filled by his. You could only hope that, when you finished, he’d let you stand up, get off of him, go back to your cozy room with its nice, soft padded walls. You couldn’t imagine having to sleep in his office, again.
“And you’ve been so cooperative, too,” he went on, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder. You felt his lips against the shell of your ear, then your cheek. “Always taking your medication, always following your treatment plans, always coming to our little sessions with an open-mind – the pinnacle of an ideal patient. Honestly, sometimes I think I could tell you to stick your hand in a vat of boiling water, and you’d do it with a smile on your face. All for the sake of your recovery, of course.”
It was him moving, this time – shifting forward until your stomach was pressed against the blunt edge of his desk and he was all-but draped over you, his body pressed flush against yours. You let out a pitchy whine by way of protest, but Harper didn’t seem to notice, only humming as his hand found yours. “Almost done, little mouse. Just one more page.” He was practically cooing as he took you by the wrist, guiding your hand to the bottom of the final page. Two thick, cutting lines occupied most of the available space, his neat signature taking up the first. He brought you to the second, almost daunting in its vacancy, his index finger tapping against the back of your hand. “You remember your name, right? Can you write it for me?”
It was so hard to think, to stay awake, to try and remember a time where he hadn’t been planted so deeply inside of you. “If…” you started, only to trail off. You blinked once, then twice, and did your best to force your tongue to move. “If I do, can I go home?”
Usually, Harper hated it when you talked about the orphanage, about school, about home. You hadn’t meant to, you just wanted to go back to your room, and you moved to correct yourself, to promise that you didn’t want to be anywhere but this hospital, his hospital before he frowned and prescribed you another electrotherapy session, another dose of the small, white pills that left your thoughts blurred and your body hot. But, anything you might’ve been able to spit out died with a breathy laugh, a peck to the corner of your jaw. “Of course,” he purred, rocking his hips gently against yours. “Sign, and I’ll take you home tonight.”
For the first time in weeks, you felt yourself start to smile. Hastily, smudging the ink more than once, you scrawled your name across the brutal line, dropping the pen and going slack against Harper as soon as you were finished. There was another open-mouthed kiss to your throat, then the dip of your shoulder, and he dragged you back onto his lap with a playful squeeze to your thigh, a grin pressed into the crook of your neck. You squirmed unabashedly, now, your hands graspingly weakly at the arms of his chair in hopes of pulling yourself to your feet, but Harper held you tight. “Where do you think you’re going, little mouse?”
“I need to— You said I could go—”
“Just give me another minute, darling.”
His cock pulsed against the walls of your cunt, and you felt something break open inside of you.
“I want to appreciate this moment before we get you to proper, brand-new home.”
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere imagines#degrees of lewdity#dol#harper the doctor#dol harper#harper x reader#yandere harper#dol harper x reader#yandere drabble#yandere degrees of lewdity#degrees of lewdity imagines#yandere dol#dol imagines
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honestly i think a HUGE part of the issue is that most of the left doesn't really understand antisemitism
after wwii it became wildly Unpopular to be blatantly antisemitic. obviously, it still happened. but the result of this is that instead of antisemitism being studied as a historical and pervasive form of oppression that has been around for thousands of years & has many many precedents BEFORE the holocaust.... it became:
something just simply Rude to say or do. if you're a polite liberal/conservative or a leftist, it's just something that is socially unacceptable. there is no real weight to this.
something when FIRMLY believed is ONLY held by people like nazis and white supremacists. who, as we know, are The Enemy and none of us can ever be like them at all ever by the virtue of... not being them. no need to watch your own behaviors, bc you are not a nazi! only nazis could ever be Actually antisemitic
something that erupted out of the ground in germany in the early 20th century, culminated with the holocaust, and ended after. antisemitism did not exist before that and it was solved after when the saving grace of the united states and england liberated the jews from the nazis out of the goodness of their hearts
however absolutely none of this is true. antisemitism stretches back thousands of years and it has not, for the most part, been only "fringe" conspiracy theorists and white supremacists who perpetuate it
antisemitism has been, by and large, presented as very logical. throughout, again, the thousands of years of history of antisemitism, very regular people have been antisemites. and most of them had reasons they felt were perfectly logical and understandable and most of all just. jews were trying to kill their children, of course they hated them! jews were purposefully trying to keep them poor, of course they hated them! jews believed Wrong Things and were morally and spiritually corrupt, of course there was something wrong with them. jews betrayed their country, lost them a war that ended with their husbands and brothers and sons dead, and now were living among them and taking advantage of social benefits out of the goodness of the hearts of the german people, of COURSE they hated them! and the nazis themselves were backed up by science at the time. scientific racism was THE science at the time. charles darwin was a scientific racist. it was all very logical.
and did jews actually do these things? no. but these people saw enough proof that aligned well enough with their morals and their beliefs and their fears & so to them it was completely logical and justified. it wasn't a fringe theory that only an insane person would believe in, or something impolite. it was true to them. to their morals, to their fears, to their core beliefs. it was true.
and so now we see a LOT. a lot of leftists being dragged ass first into antisemitism. because they don't even think they CAN be antisemitic. THEY aren't nazis and THEY aren't white supremacists, of COURSE they aren't antisemitic. but... well. the jews are doing things that go against their morals. they're doing things that validate their fears. the jews are violating things that go against their core beliefs! so of COURSE it is LOGICAL that they should hate them. of course, it is still rude to say "the jews are evil" so it gets replaced with "zionist". (and before you ask yes i am anti-zionism and do deeply believe what israel is doing is unjust and cruel) but even that is slipping.
it is getting all the more popular to go that one step further and instead of just making posts like "spam the hanukkah tag because the Zionists need to learn what their religion stands for" that are blatantly just replacing "jews" with "zionists", they are logically moving to being mask off. if zionism is wrong and half the world's remaining jewish population lives in israel, what about the rest? aren't they suspect? would they not ALL commit atrocities if given the chance? aren't they all racist for believing they're an ethnicity? aren't they all complicit? aren't they all threatening our deeply held leftist beliefs? it's a little weird and everyone has been too quiet for too long bc it's been rude to say but now you can get 300k notes for posting blood libel so why would you keep quiet anymore?
why WOULDN'T you just say "thank god someone finally said it i was worried about stepping on toes" when someone makes a post full of antisemitic conspiracy theory. why WOULDN'T you say "i don't care if all of israel gets bombed and every single person dies after this lmfao they deserve it"? (which would wipe out, again, half the world's population of jews- many of whom living there are anti-zionist and actively protesting their government. or. you know. children.) why WOULDN'T you make posts about how jewish identity is just nazi aryanism? why wouldn't you make posts about how the jews are privileged in america bc they run hollywood and the economy? why WOULDN'T you say the star of david is a hate symbol to you now and that you mistrust anyone using it? or that you find anyone speaking hebrew suspect?
these are all perfectly logical. to you. and YOU are not a nazi or a white supremacist. so it can't be antisemitic.
#antisemitism#long post#yall are just fucking exhausting and im going to go on a blocking spree in a moment but truly and deeply#just fucking think for two seconds about what you say
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Theodore Nott and the Fortress of Trust Issues: how to cast a patronus in 3 easy steps
Theodore Nott x reader
Summary: Theodore Nott had never been able to cast a patronus. In third year, when dementors were swarming the castle, of course he tried, but was never able to manage more than a whisp of soft silver. Come seventh year, he was painfully unsurprised when his efforts were once again lack luster. Turns out, with the right tutor, casting the formidable charm might not be as impossible as he thought.
word count: 3.8k
©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.
Theodore glowered menacingly at the students below him chattering happily amongst themselves in the courtyard. A puff of smoke slipping through his lips as he leaned on the railing of the astronomy tower. Theo knew his life wasn’t exactly one that most would be envious of. Sure his family had money, power, but add on a mother who had died far before her time, and a death eater father whose attention it was far better to avoid? Theo laughed dryly to himself.
Theo knew he didn’t have many happy memories. Truly happy memories. He was painfully, excruciatingly, self aware. Still, nothing made it quite so glaringly obvious that his life was rather pathetic than broadcasting to his entire charms class his bitter inability to force even a wisp of silvery bloody smoke out of his bloody wand. Yes. Flitwick had finally found his weakness. That damned Patronus spell. Being one of the top students of his year, it was humiliating. It wasn’t even expected that most of the class would be able to cast a corporeal patronus, yet even Draco and Matteo of all people managed to produce soft billowy clouds of silvery magic.
Theo shook his head at the thought, trying to clear his mind. His eyes once again began gazing about the courtyard before landing on a lone figure sitting beneath a willow tree, hidden from view unless one was looking close enough. Theo brought his smoke to his lips once more, inhaling deeply as he watched a burst of silver leave the tip of the girl’s wand. His eyes darkened with envy, remembering the words of his professor from earlier that day.
“Wonderful, y/n. Just wonderful! A fox! Withdrawn when necessary, but natural adaptors. Embodying intelligence, independence, mischief, and beauty. A unique patronus indeed.”
His eyes narrowed as he watched the silver creature trot happily through the air before turning and dropping his cigarette to the ground, stomping on it harshly. With one last glance at the girl sitting awestruck with her silvery companion, he descended down the stairs, determined to spend the rest of his night, moping in peace.
Step 1: Find a Pretty Tutor (read: have a tutor forced upon you under the threat of a failing grade.)
“What do you mean a tutor? You of all people?” Matteo laughs mercilessly as Theo scowls at him. “Can’t believe I’m doing better than you in a class, you must be bloody miffed.”
Theo tuned out his friend’s laughter as he continued to glower at the floor in front of him. The two boys currently sat in the Slytherin common room as Theo hastily tried to finish up his ancient runes homework before dragging his arse to the library to meet his supposed tutor. Matteo was making this quite difficult however as he continued to poke fun at the boy, rattling on about how, for once, Theo had had the nerve to not be good at something. The horror.
Snapping his textbook closed and sliding it into his book bag, Theo began gathering his things, choosing to forego the blasted assignment.
“Aww, have fun with you little tutor Teddy. Maybe it’ll be that foxy Ravenclaw you’re always staring at. Bit ironic that her patronus is a fox innit?” Matteo teases as he watches his friend’s jaw clench at the mention of the pretty girl.
While perhaps Matteo wasn’t the most entirely perceptive of the bunch, it would take a blind man to not notice Theodore’s eyes flicker over to the group of Ravenclaws throughout their shared charms class.
“Shut up Matt. Shouldn’t you be shagging Astoria in a broom closet somewhere?” He grunts out.
Matteo smirks, knowing he’d found a tick, but deciding to leave it for another time.
“Not a bad idea mate, see you later. You’ll have to tell Enzo and I all about your tutoring session tonight,” he says with a wink before sauntering off towards the girl’s dormitories.
With a heavy sigh, Theo began making his way slowly towards the library, silently cursing Professor Flitwick as he recalled their conversation from earlier that day.
Class was finally wrapping up for the day and Theo was about ready to bolt out of that blasted classroom, but Flitwick had other ideas.
“Mr. Nott? A word?” He’s called from his grand podium in the center of the room.
The summons had garnered a few raised eyebrows and surprised looks from his fellow classmates, and Theo had trudged solemnly up to the professor.
“I couldn’t help but notice that you appeared to have had some difficulty today,” the professor and stated rather bluntly after all the other students had shuffled out.
Theo blinked back up at his professor.
“You do understand of course, that I cannot grant marks for a spell you did not perform?” He asks finally.
Theo once again stares blankly back at the professor.
Appearing to grow uncomfortable under the boy’s steady, unwavering gaze, Flitwick lets out a deep sigh.
“Mr. Nott. I’m aware that you are quite the talented young wizard, and I simply do not want to have to give you low marks on an assignment I’m confident you could perform well on.”
Still nothing from the brown haired Slytherin.
“I’ve arranged for you to begin working with a tutor until you’re able to cast the spell.” He says finally.
Theo frowns. He’s never had a tutor before. Never needed one.
“Professor-“ he begins to protest.
“The two of you can begin later this evening. 8 o’clock in the library,” Flitwick interrupts before shooing him off to his next class.
Finally arriving outside the library doors, Theo made another look of distaste before pushing through the large double doors. His eyes gazed over the tables not entirely sure who he was looking for as the twat had never actually told him who would be tutoring him. He felt his body freeze momentarily when his eyes locked with another pair of bright eyes and he began silently cursing Matteo. The bloody fucking bastard had jinxed him.
You sat quietly at your table in the library, waiting for the clock to slowly hit 8 as you mindlessly worked away at your essay for ancient runes. During charms today, Flitwick had noticed one of your classmates have a particularly difficult time with the lesson and asked for you to guide them in the right direction. Not one to argue with your head of house, you’d easily agreed.
As the clock struck 8, you began casting quick glances every so often at the library doors, until suddenly you were locked in the gaze of none other than Theodore Nott. Surely he wasn’t the one you would be tutoring? You didn’t know the boy particularly well, but you did know that he was a fierce competitor for top of the class in most of your other lessons. You watched silently as he made his way over to your table, offering him a small smile.
“Charms?” He asks, tossing his bag onto the table with a gentle thud.
You give him a slight nod, eyeing his tall figure as he sat lazily across from you.
“Well I’m sorry to break it to you, but you’ll be wasting your time. Never been able to cast the damn spell. Probably never will,” he says, leaning back on the chair, eyes not wavering.
You purse your lips. Looking at the handsome boy in front of you.
“I suppose you’ll just have to trust me then, won’t you?” You reply, a challenging tone apparent in your voice.
The boy smirks at this, cocking his head as if really getting a good look at you for the first time before finally replying, “I’ve never been particularly trusting.”
“Well then I guess you’ll be learning all sorts of things.”
You take your charms book out of your bag, opening it to the reading you had been assigned earlier in the week. You glance up to see Theodore mirroring your actions silently.
“A patronus, is a concentration of pure happiness and hope, derived from the recollection of a single talisman memory which is essential in its creation,” you read, the underlined section of the textbook was one you had pre-selected as it was the concept most people struggled to grasp.
Watching Theo stiffen and clench his jaw slightly, you knew you were right.
“When someone is unable to cast a patronus, I’ve found it’s usually because they haven’t figured out yet how to focus in on their talisman memory,” you continue.
“And if someone doesn’t have a talisman memory?” Theo’s voice interrupts.
You glance up at him in surprise.
“Everyone has a talisman memory. We just need to find it.”
“I don’t have one.” He insists.
“Then we’ll make one.”
The boy sighs in frustration. Fists clenching as he glares at the textbook in front of him.
“It might not be as complicated as you’re making it. I know when Flitwick was in class, he made it seem like your talisman memory had to be a big, grande gesture, or a clear moment of inexplicable joy. But I think the little moments count too. Everyone has been happy at least once,” you say, watching as Theo slowly relaxes.
“What do you think about?” He asks, before quickly back tracking “You don’t have to answer that.”
“All sorts of things really,” you reply, offering another small smile. “When I got my first wand at Ollivander’s. Honeydukes with the rest of the Ravenclaws. Playing quidditch. Specially that time we beat Gryffindor.”
Theo snorts at that, a small grin reaching his lips.
“Point is, it doesn’t matter how small the moment is, long as it made you happy.”
You’re met with silence, as Theo continues to stare down at his textbook, a look a deep contemplation on his face.
“Think that’s enough for today. Flitwick said to keep up the sessions until you’re at least able to cast an incorporeal patronus, so, I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Theo nods his head, still not meeting your gaze.
“Does 6 o’clock on the lawn work?” You ask, only to be met with another nod.
Sensing the boy needed a bit of space, you quickly gathered your things before leaving the boy to his thoughts.
Step 2: Accidentally Fall In Love with Your Tutor (if you weren’t half way there already.)
You sit staring out at the vast lake in front of you, watching as the breeze pushed against the water, forming rolling waves across the surface and taking a deep breath in. You had been meeting Theodore here every day at 6 o’clock sharp for almost two whole weeks now, but you honestly weren’t sure if he’d show up today. Not that you’d blame him.
You felt as if you’d really failed him as a tutor after so many consecutive days of work, with nothing to show for it. On top of that, the two of you had gotten into a rather intense shouting match yesterday, the stress of the whole thing really getting to the both of you.
You lean back, laying down on the soft blanket below you, knees still propped up, and close your eyes, thinking back to the first time the two of you had met out in this very spot. You’d originally picked the spot, because it helped you clear your mind and you thought it might help clear Theo’s too.
That first day had been awkward. Almost painfully so. You had simply wanted to talk. Get to know the boy, pick his brain for any source of happiness or joy he might get out of life. You didn’t get much, so instead you talked about your own life. What it was like living in Ravenclaw tower, the time you and Cho had tried out together for the quidditch team. You told him how you had gone to the Yule ball with a big group of friends, and how you thought it was much better than going with some stuffy date, and how your favorite candies were the purple taffies from Honeydukes, and your favorite flowers were deadly poisonous despite their pretty and innocent appearance.
The second day, you borrowed Cho’s cat and brought her along to the meeting, thinking it might help further relax your brown haired companion. It did, so you brought her along the next day, and the day after that. It wasn’t until the fourth day that Theo broke. Sure he had told you a bit about his time at Hogwarts. Playing on Slytherin’s quidditch team. Sharing a dorm with Matteo Riddle and Lorenzo Berkshire. But on the fourth day, he told you about his mother. You weren’t expecting it, and it honestly had caught you wildly off guard. Theodore’s mother had been the light of his world, and after she was gone, you could understand why he thought he would never cast a patronus.
It went on like this, the two of you gradually becoming closer, as you carefully began building a sort of trust between the two of you. You thought you might even be becoming friends; which excited you as you’d never been quite able to stop your eyes from wandering over to the group of Slytherins in the back of the class, and stopping on the tall, brunette boy with pretty eyes. You tried every couple of days to cast the spell, guiding him through different memories, trying to focus in on different experiences. But still nothing. You had even tried inviting Matteo and Enzo to a session, hoping they’d help lighten his mood, but it only ended in the four of you skiving wildly off course and getting nothing done. You and Theo had laughed about it the next day, but still not even a whisp of silvery magic.
It had all come to a head yesterday. You could feel the two of you beginning to lose hope, but you were nothing if not determined. The two of you were sitting quietly, skimming the textbook for what seemed like the thousandth time, when Theo suddenly stopped and looked up at you.
“I read something the other day. Bout patronuses. And being able to cast em.”
You looked up from your reading, intrigued.
“Said that there’s a widespread, and justified, belief that witches and wizards who aren’t pure of heart can’t cast a patronus.”
Your mouth slowly formed an O shape, and the book you were holding dropped to the ground, completely forgotten.
“Theodore. You don’t honestly think. That’s ridiculous.”
“It makes sense doesn’t it? Why I can’t even cast an incorporeal charm. Why nothing we’ve tried works. There’s no point,” Theo had said, growing frustrated.
“Theodore stop. That theory is all nonsense. There isn’t even any evidence really to back it up,” you reply.
“Why else would nothing be working?” Theo asks, slamming his book on the ground.
“Theo!”
“No, y/n, honestly. What other explanation could there be. We’ve been doing this for weeks.” Theo’s voice began to rise.
“And we’ll continue until you’re able to get this.”
“What’s the bloody point? We’ve tried everything!”
“And we just need to try a bit harder!” You respond.
“You think I haven’t been trying?”
“Of course I know you’ve been trying! And I’ve been trying to do everything I can to help you succeed!”
“And everything I’ve been doing is for you! I don’t care about the bloody charm, I don’t want to disappoint you!”
Theo’s outburst had shocked you, and your breath hitched as the two of you stared at each other, Theo’s words sinking in.
Then he was kissing you. Hot lips working against yours as he pulled you onto his lap. Your fingers worked their way up to his hair, relishing in how soft his brown waves were as you tugged at them gently.
You let out a soft moan as you felt his tongue glide gently across your bottom lip before diving in at the opportunity you had provided him.
You seemed to get lost in the feeling of his soft lips and large hands around your waist holding you firmly in place. You had no idea how much time had passed by the time you were both panting for breath, foreheads resting against one another.
Seeming to really realize what he’d done, Theo looked down at you, eyes beginning to widen slightly.
“I’m so sorry, y/n,” he’d said before promptly rising and hastily making his way back to the castle.
Now, your finger tips softly brushed the soft leather of Theo’s book bag that he’d abandoned yesterday in his hurry to leave. You thought that maybe, if for no other reason, he’d perhaps come to retrieve it. Not that he needed to you thought dryly, knowing that with his Gringotts account, he could’ve easily already replaced it and its contents.
Sitting up, you glance at your time piece showing a quarter after 6. With a deep sigh, you fish your transfiguration textbook out of your bag, flipping it open to begin your assigned reading. You’re only a few pages in when a twig snaps somewhere behind you. Whipping around, you see him standing there, handsome as ever, looking down at you.
“Sorry I’m late. And, sorry for yesterday,” he mumbles, dropping down to sit next to you.
You eye him warily as he refuses to make eye contact with you, eyes appearing to be glazed over as he gazes out at the lake like you had been earlier.
Slowly, and ever so carefully, you shift next to him so that your arms and legs brush softly, and you gently lean your head against his shoulder as you join him in looking out at the water. You feel him tense initially before slowly relaxing, leaning in as the two of you sat in silence.
“I won’t give up, if you don’t,” you say finally as Theo’s hand finds yours.
Step 3: Trust
It had been a week now since that day at the lake, and you weren’t quite sure where you stood anymore with Theo. You still met each other everyday by the lake, slipping easily into your usual banter. But now it was eyes meeting from across the classroom and slips of paper making their way back and forth. Your fingertips would brush softly in the hallways, and sometimes, you’d feel a hand reach out, pulling you into a hidden nook, and warm lips would meet your own. But you’d never actually, talked, about it.
You shake the thoughts out of your mind, a shiver running down your spine, as you focus in on the present. That all wasn’t the reason you once again found yourself lying out on the lawn, Theo’s head resting comfortably in your lap.
“Can you cast it?” Theo asks, looking up at you.
“Hmm?”
“Your patronus? Can you cast it? I know yours is a full, corporeal form.”
Looking down at the boy, your fingers weave slowly through his hair as you reach for your wand.
Closing your eyes and taking a breath, you focus in, memories flashing through your mind, a sense of warmth overtaking you.
“Expecto patronum.” The spell falls from your lips and you open your eyes to see a silver fox tumble out of the tip of your wand before trotting through the air around you.
You really did love the spell and it amazed and intrigued you every time. A reflection of someone’s soul, your textbook had said. It could change throughout one’s life, should they experience a shocking event, grow more mature, fall in love. The last one had always been the most curious, the idea of someone loving so much, that a piece of their soul reflected that of their loved one.
You watch as Theo’s eyes follow the the creature in awe.
“You know this is hopeless right?” Theo asks softly, your hand in his hair freezing.
“Theodore. We agreed that-“
“But really what’s the point? So I get one poor mark. When am I ever going to need to use the spell really? No point in wasting time on something that’s hopeless.”
You carefully mull over Theo’s words in your head. You supposed that realistically, he wasn’t necessarily wrong practicality wise. But if you both simply gave up, would he ever want to see you again? You knew in your core that it was selfish, but the last three weeks really had been some of the best during your time at Hogwarts. Which was saying a bit considering you’d been there for almost seven years. You supposed you’d just hoped- hoped. Hopeless, hopeless, hopeless. Hope. A concentration of pure happiness and hope.
“Theodore?”
“Amore?”
“When you’re thinking of your happy memory, why did you choose it?”
Theo gives you a strange look.
“Because it made me happy at the time, and the talisman memory is supposed to be a happy.”
“Good. But can you tell me why it’s so important to focus on a happy memory?”
Theo blinks.
“Because the spell says so.”
You let out a small laugh.
“Because the whole point of the charm is to create protection from the dark. Something that will keep you safe so that you can continue to feel that happiness. To give you hope.”
Theo furrows his eyebrows and frowns.
“This feels emotional.” He says, his face distorting in disgust.
“Sometimes magic is.”
Theo’s frown deepens. “It shouldn’t be. I’m perfectly content being apathetic and emotionally detached thanks.”
You let out a small snort. “Come on Theo. Try it again. But this time, think about your memory and why you want to feel that again.”
Theo’s face scrunches up in distaste before he sits up lazily, picking up his wand. You watch as he closes his eyes, pausing. His chest slowly rises then falls, once, twice.
“Expecto patronum.”
Nothing. Theo let’s put an annoyed sigh.
“Hey, it’s okay. You can try again. Think about something that you love, make sure you can picture it clearly. Something that made you so happy that you would relive it over and over.”
Theo’s eyes flick over to you, a brow raised before he closes his eyes once again. You watch him closely, perhaps too closely, as a minute passes. Then two. You’re almost worried he’s fallen asleep sitting up when the words fall from his lips.
“Expecto patronum.”
A burst of silver flashes out of his wand, and your jaw drops as your eyes follow the silver creature that had emerged, gracefully moving across the lawn.
Your eyes dart over to Theo, and you reach out to grab his arm seeing that he’d not yet opened his eyes again. When his eyes finally open once more, his gaze immediately falls on the whimsical creature, eyes widening slightly as he stares at his patronus in disbelief before looking at you with bewildered confusion.
“That’s not mine.” You tell him with a small smile, giving his arm a squeeze as you both look up at the silver fox dancing through the air.
#harry potter#harry potter universe#slytherin#slytherin boys#draco malfoy#lorenzo berkshire#matteo riddle#theodore nott#theo nott x y/n#theodore nott x y/n#theo nott x reader#theodore nott x reader#theo nott fanfiction#theodore nott fanfiction#patronus#hogwarts au#astoria greengrass#theo nott
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something that fucks me up so much is that the clones were literally created for the jedi and spent most of their artificially shortened youth learning about the jedi and then when they finally meet the jedi, the jedi had no fucking clue they existed.
and then they get to swoop in and save the jedi on geonosis but they're too late. most of them are already dead. it was the biggest massacre of the jedi in the war other than the one the clones perpetrated themselves.
but then the jedi take them on, even if most of them are initially reluctant, and they live up to the hype. in fact, most of them surpass it. they're not just brave and strong, they're kind. they value the clones more than the clones value themselves, and they spend most of their spare time trying to make the clones realize their own value.
but then the clones start learning about concepts like freedom and the inherent value of life and some of them realize hey, the way we exist is deeply unethical and, perhaps even more devastatingly, the jedi can't do anything about it. the republic needs us too much. we and the jedi are all that stands between the republic and the atrocities committed by the separatists yet most of the galaxy still reviles us for either doing too much or for not doing enough.
so most of them fall back on the comfort of being a good soldier. good soldiers follow orders. good soldiers save people. good soldiers are like the jedi, and the jedi are like good soldiers, and even if the rest of the galaxy is increasingly hostile, at least they have each other. the jedi are not perfect, but they are good, and that is what matters. even if no one thanks them, even if they must die for entire planets of people who think their only purpose is to fight for them and feel little to no gratitude for it, at least the jedi are in the same boat. at least the jedi care about the clones as much as the clones care about the jedi.
how devastating it would have been to suddenly know, without quite understanding why, that the jedi are traitors. even through the sudden strange pounding in their skulls, the artificial fugue state, the clones would have felt personally hurt. the jedi pretended to care about them, pretended to share their same self-sacrificial sense of duty, of honor and loyalty before self-preservation, when really they were plotting against them all along. no wonder the clones wanted revenge.
most of the clones died still feeling that way.
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insecurity.
f1 au/fic: in which, lando and y/n have been dating for a few months, but fans are still talking about y/n’s past relationship. making lando feel insecure and questioning y/n’s feelings for him.
lando norris x singer!reader
(fc: jess alexander)
note: english isn’t my first language so excuse me for the mistakes this might have xx ALSO it’s the first time that i’m actually writing something so i hope it’s not too bad lmao. thank you for reading my aus btw <3
liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell, danielricciardo and 2 799 009 others.
y/n: happy birthday to my sun, you’re such a beautiful soul, i’m so proud to call you mine. i love you to the moon and back and promise to always love you.
_
landonorris: i love you more baby
danielricciardo: we’re at practice and he’s crying btw
fan1: they’re so absjdkdoldel
fan2: mama y papa
fan3: he always smile so brightly when he’s looking at her :(
fan4: i’m sorry but i can’t help but think about y/n’s ex… on the same day last year she was posting pictures of him
fan5: @.fan4 don’t do that… it’s about lando, not her ex
fan6: am i tripping or she also used to call her ex, her « sun »??
fan7: @.fan6 WHAT
fan8: @.fan6 no she didn’t?
_
lando sighed and threw his phone on his bed. of course he saw all the tweets about you and your stupid ex, how could he ignore them when it was all over the internet. people were speculating about if he was a rebound or a toy for you. lando was hurt, he always thought that you were way out of his league anyways so he should’ve seen it coming, right? you were an amazing and worldwide known singer, with your angelic voice and heartbreaking lyrics. you sang with your heart which made anyone who was listening to you, fall in love immediately.
that’s what happened with lando. he was always a big fan of yours, singing your songs on top of his lungs at parties, and following every single news about you, he even went to your concerts. one day, he went viral for singing your song on the radio with his engineer, he also happened to have made it to p3, which he said was because you were his lucky charm. the video was published online and went viral, you saw it and immediately found it adorable. the rest was history.
when you guys hard launched your relationship to the world, the big majority was happy for you two, happy to see you smile and happy to see that lando managed to get his crush. but a small minority saw that relationship as a rebound for you, saying horrible things about how you never loved lando and how you would dump him in a few months to go back to your one true love, your ex.
lando saw it all. and he hated it.
"lando? are you okay?" you asked, when you went to check in on him. he was supposed to bring a few blankets so you guys could watch a movie together. but he was taking way too much time so you went to see if he was okay.
"do you love me y/n?" he asked you, and the sadness in his eyes almost made you cry. lando’s eyes was what you loved the most about him, with his smile of course, but his gorgeous green eyes were full of emotions, you could drown in them and feel every little thing he was feeling just by looking at him.
"what are you talking about? of course i love you lando." you say, taking his hand in yours and softly kissing his knuckles. you saw him close his eyes and sigh deeply. you pushed him on the bed and sat next to him. "what happened?"
"it’s stupid, don’t worry about it." he finally looked up at you and faked a smile but it didn’t fool you.
"lando. tell me." you were still holding his hand and with your free hand you started to caress his cheek. he closed his eyes again and melted against your touch.
"your fans are still talking about your past relationship and how i’m nothing but a rebound to you." he said it in such a low tone you almost didn’t hear him. but sadly you heard his words and you could feel your heart shatter at how your fans words affected him. "i know that you guys stayed together for a while, and i know that you wrote good songs about him, i listened to them all, but… if you still love him you can-…"
"lando norris." you said in a serious tone, which startled him. "how am i supposed to love anyone else when you stole my heart and refuse to give it back?" his eyes lit up a little by your words. "and i literally wrote 56 songs about how much i love you so you better listen to them all once again and never doubt my feelings for you ever again, boy."
liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, charlottesiine and 6 808 009 others.
y/n: ‘you are in love’ is officially out ;) little gift from me to you sweet lan <3
_
maxfewtrell: lando listened to it and locked himself in the bathroom to cry
landonorris: @.maxfewtrell FAKE NEWS
danielricciardo: i wish someone would write 57 songs about me…
heidiberger_: @.danielricciardo excuse me? (great song btw y/n!)
liked by y/n.
fan1: ZKSKSLXPODOSOZ
fan2: y/n making haters eat their words with one song: queen behaviour
fan3: i hope haters will stop hating on lando now how can you say that y/n is using him as a rebound
fan4: CALL 911 IM ON THE VERGE OF DEATH
fan5: y/n writing a love song for lando on his birthday :(
fan6: i love them so much pls
fan7: that whole drama about her ex was so dumb, they broke up for a reason and y/n also wrote songs about how awful he was to her towards the end of their relationship, why do you guys want her to go back to that dog?
liked by y/n.
#f1 social media au#f1 au#f1 x you#f1 x oc#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 instagram au#f1 imagine#f1 fandom#f1 x reader#lando norris#lando norris x female reader#lando norris x you#lando norris x y/n#lando norris x reader#lando norris x oc#social media au#formula one#formula one x y/n#formula one x reader#formula one x you#formula one x oc
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"is... is that my sweater?"
satan notes the lethargic way you look up from your book, watching heavy eyelids lead a slow blink. whatever dusty tome lies in your hands has clearly lured you halfway to dreamland-- and from the looks of it, your cozy attire and the crackle of the nearby fireplace didn't seem to help much, either.
"huh?"
"are you wearing my sweater?" he asks, softer this time.
you let your head fall down to your own chest. you stare at the familiar green sweater on your body for a few moments before lifting your head.
"huh?" you repeat, too tired to comprehend the question for a long moment. then, "... oh. yeah."
a warm chuckle rumbles in his chest as he comes closer. satan had been looking for his sweater all day-- left only in a black undershirt, because it was more about the principle of finding it than needing it-- but he had been wholly unaware he'd left it in your room earlier that day. he couldn't bring himself to regret it, though. you look quite cozy cuddled up on the library sofa like that, swaddled in a blanket and his scent, lost in some book like a vision from an old painting. how he wishes he'd been a little quieter entering the library-- maybe he could have snapped a photo of you like this for himself.
as your lover, satan knows he should probably escort you to bed for a proper rest. but a selfish part of him wants to bask in this scene longer, to let the storm that rages in him find solace at this little slice of heaven. it's odd for a demon to crave peace like this. you've domesticated him in that way-- like a feral cat off the street finding comfort in a stranger's apartment, you've lulled him into a sense of contentness he didn't think he'd find in this lifetime.
oh, what a wonder you are.
"do you mind a little company?"
you nod, sleepily, yawning through what was intended to be a verbal response, but satan's at your side before you make yourself try again. his hand finds your shoulder and coaxes you to sit up. with a little adjusting, he slides into the space behind you and urges you to lean back into his chest. his legs stay on either side of you-- it's warm, comforting, doing nothing to help you stay awake. but it doesn't seem like satan minds your drowsiness.
his eyes fall to the nearly discarded book in your hands. emerald eyes scan over the words. they're familiar, causing a curious itch in his brain that lingers for a few seconds before his epiphany.
"is this... that book i read last week?"
"mhmm. i wanted--" another yawn, "-- to understand what you were talking about, but... i got sleepy."
he understands now. his sweater on your warm body, the library couch, the low fire nearby-- you're indulging in a small taste of his world.
what did he do to deserve someone as wonderful as you?
"i can read it to you, if you'd like," he murmurs, low and quiet. if you wanted the full experience, he'd give it to you-- complete with a nap in his arms. it's selfish, though. he really just wants an excuse to admire you up close, to lose himself in thought about how much he truly, deeply adores you. sometimes the sensation is so overwhelming that it shows on his face in flushed cheeks and soft eyes-- and that is a little too embarrassing to be caught with by anyone, but especially by you.
when you snuggle into his chest, he begins to read from the top of the page where you left off. it doesn't take long for your breathing to even out, your body to grow still and heavy in his grasp. he slides the bookmark between old pages where you originally left off. satan predicts you'll forget most everything he read to you by the time you wake up.
his mind wanders to the soundtrack of your peaceful breathing. he's grateful for lazy days like this. being able to bask in your presence is a gift. to know that you yourself were creating a similar experience by hiding away in one of his favorite reading spots, well... he's lucky you're asleep, as the flush on his cheeks only grows hotter at the thought.
maybe he'll let you borrow his things more often.
#sleepy :3#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me swd#obey me nightbringer#obey me nb#obey me satan#obey me x reader#obey me satan x reader#obey me drabble#obey me imagines#obey me fluff#obey me x mc#otome
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You Get Into A Car Accident (Non Fatal)
Xavier
When he texted and you didn’t reply. He wasn’t worried.
When he went to your apartment, and you didn’t answer the door. He was mildly concerned.
When he saw on the news that a hunter was injured in a car crash. He grew worried.
And when he logged into the news feed of the UNICORN’s association, which shows direct information on all hunters, without proper pass, to see your status, he was frantic.
Nearly got into a car crash himself getting to the hospital, and when they wouldn’t let him in to see you, he flashed his high ranking badge, which got the message through.
You were unconscious when he got there, which suddenly reminded him how tired he was.
He prevailed through after checking with the nurses that you were okay, and with that, he pulled up a chair and blanket and fell asleep next to you.
You had to wake him up yourself after you had your breakfast (Saving some for him).
He rubbed his eyes tiredly as he blinked awake.
“You sure do know how to keep someone occupied (MC)… Try not to put yourself out of commission so often, or I’m going to have to find a new partner.” He mumbled absent mindedly as he consumed the rest of your fruit.
Zayne
If you’re not being taken care of at his hospital, he’s going to whichever one you’re at and taking over immediately. He’s THE Dr. Zayne so of course, he’s going to have his way.
For plots sake you’re at Akso Hospital for now.
If he’s in his office, whatever he’s doing is stopped immediately as his main priority is you.
If he’s dealing with another patient, or in a surgery, he’s still going to remain with his current patient, but his nerves are at an all-time high, which somehow makes him work better.
Says absolutely NOTHING as he tends to your wounds. You can’t tell if he’s seething with rage at you getting hurt or deeply disappointed that you got yourself hurt.
When you finally get the courage to say something, all you can say is his name.
“Doctor Zayne…”
He says nothing as he finishes applying a bandage. Afraid to say anything else, you wait until he’s done.
He takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose, letting out a sigh. He looks in your eyes, his own reflecting a type of tiredness you’ve only seen a couple other times you’ve been injured, but with battles instead.
To him, although you put your life in danger being a hunter every day, he’s reminded that the casualties of life are another thing he has to worry about with you.
He caresses your face and just whispers. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
Rafayel
He’d called and texted, and you didn’t reply. Almost didn’t answer you when you called him the next morning.
When he saw you in the hospital bed, he got SO MAD.
Immediately hung up. You thought he was being a brat until he showed up to your hospital room exactly 10 minutes later.
“Some bodyguard you are…” He huffed, faux annoyed, as he pulled out fruit, water, a stuffed animal and balloons from his bag. How did he even get all this stuff in 10 minutes!?
Visits every day until you’re out. Argues with the nurses every time visiting hours come to a close. You have to tell him to shut up and go and apologize for him every time before they officially ban him from the hospital.
He brings his sketchbook in tow and draws scenes of you, you in the hospital, and car accidents tinged with red and dark blue. Even though they’re sketches, they still portray his feelings of anxious despair and sorrow of what could’ve been for the one he most cared about.
“Seriously, stop trying to get yourself killed all the time! … I don’t know what I’d do without you…”
#love and deepspace#lads x reader#xavier love and deepspace#zayne love and deepspace#love and deepspace xavier#rafayel love and deepspace#l&ds#l&ds x reader#love and deepspace zayne#love and deepspace rafayel#loveanddeepspace#l&ds rafayel#l&ds xavier#l&ds zayne#love and deepspace headcanons#Lauve And Deepspace
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"You Should Probably Leave" | Joel x Reader oneshot
Part 1 of Play it Again, a new series where each story is a oneshot, but all are shaped around country songs.
Song: You Should Probably Leave – Chris Stapleton
Summary: He works long days. You help out with Sarah, make her dinner, put her to bed when he has to stay late. And then when he gets home you help him out, too, even though you both know you should probably leave.
Tags/Warnings: MDNI, 18+, smut, porn without plot, prose but kind of poetry/lyrical, sexual tension, PIV, oral (m! receiving), sub!Joel, you're Sarah's babysitter, AU! No outbreak, set in the 90s.
Word Count: 1.4k
A/N: I've taken the lyrics and worked them into the story, so I'd really recommend listening as you read. I've been thinking about writing this series for sooo long because country songs + Joel is a match made in heaven. If you've got any song recommendations, let me know!
It’s like a dance, a well-worn routine that you both know, practised and perfected after months of repetitions. You both know where it leads but you’ll still follow all the steps. That’s how it is.
You put Sarah to bed ages ago, spent the last few hours of babysitting on the sofa finishing up some college work, waiting for Joel to get back. His key in the door is a familiar click, the latch sticking the way it always does, his shoulder forcing it open.
You stay where you are. When he comes into the lounge his toolbelt is still strapped around his waist, the remnants of a long day’s work painted across his handsome face and strewn in dust that’s collected on the knees of his well-worn jeans and callused hands.
He pauses in the entrance, arm stretched up above him to rest on the mantle of the door, t-shirt pulling up to reveal a strip of tanned skin above his belt. There’s a glass of wine half-drunk on the coffee table beside you and your feet are tucked up under you.
Neither of you speak for several long moments. You just watch each other, the tension too delicious to break.
“You should probably leave,” He says, but you make no effort to move and he stays where he is, too, dark eyes watching you.
His expression is open, taunting, and you already know what’s going to happen. You untuck your feet and shift them onto the worn carpet, standing to step towards him. His form takes up most of the doorway, his shoulders so broad that they almost touch both sides of the frame.
When you reach it he’s looming over you, blocking the exit off from you if you wanted to leave, but you don’t. You turn into him, press your nose to the slice of skin between his shoulder and neck and inhale deeply, smell the work of his day on him: the musk of sweat, the tang of iron and sharpness of wood shavings.
“I suppose it ain’t all that late,” he says, voice rumbling through his chest, “still time for you to finish your wine.”
You won’t finish the wine, but it’s all part of the well-worn routine the two of you have. He works long days. You help out with Sarah, make her dinner, put her to bed when he has to stay late.
And then when he gets home you help him out, too. Let him relieve some of the tension that he carries in his shoulders, on his thick-set jaw. You press the first kiss here, letting the rough caress of his stubble eat into your own cheek. When you let your hands course through his hair, scratching your nails into his scalp, he leans into it, eyebrows pitching up, something like a whimper falling from his lips.
There’s a devil on your shoulders, and its urging you each towards the same predetermined end.
“We shouldn’t.” He says, but he doesn’t move away.
“Just one kiss?” You ask, feeling him relax into your touch, the bulk of him slipping down the doorframe, bringing his mouth within reach of yours.
“Alright,” He rasps back, his voice pitching with need, and you claim the last syllable with your mouth, press your lips against his, pull a moan from somewhere deep in his chest.
“Say you want me to stay,” You tell him, and he does, whispers it into your mouth, chases your tongue with his.
When he looks at you his gaze so intense it’s almost intimidating, and you recognise the look in his eyes, the need that’s behind the blown-out pupils and hazy expression.
The slow retreat to his bedroom is well-practised, the carpet belying a well-trodden route you both know. He lets you walk him backwards up the stairs, sighs when you push him against the closed door to fit your mouths together again.
Inside, his bed is unmade and you press him into it, pin his hands above his head and lick a thick strip up his neck, following the tendons to the underside of his jaw.
His moans are the chorus of this well-rehearsed dance. They spur you on as you undress him, revealing the strong lines of his chest, the thick trunks of his thighs, the impressive bulge of his cock in his briefs, already half-hard.
He twitches in your hand when you draw him out and you shift down the bed to take him into your mouth, the head of him heavy and salty on your tongue. His cock swells, the vein that spans the underside pulsing against your palm.
It’s intoxicating and dizzying and familiar, the recognisable ache in your jaw as you take him into the back of your throat, fist gripping the part of him that won’t fit.
“So good to me, darlin’” He groans, running shaking fingers through your hair, trying to sit up against the headboard.
“Relax,” you tell him, pushing him back down to lie against the rumpled duvet, “I know what you need.”
You know him and he knows you, and you both know how this goes. You pull back, work your dress up over your head and pull down your panties, which are ruined with your slick, so damp they catch on your thighs as you peel them off. Joel’s eyes widen as he watches; he can never believe you want this – want him – as much as you do.
When you sink down on his length – the fat head of his cock catching at your entrance, making the stretch delicious and white-hot – he squeezes his eyes shut tight.
You run a finger along his eyebrows, coax him to open them and he does, a muscle in his jaw fluttering as you rise up and drag your cunt back down onto him again.
“I wanna do the right thing, baby,” he tells you, as though this – the pinching heat of him between your thighs, the tremble of his hands as he clutches at the flesh of your ass – isn’t the greatest thing that’s ever happened to either of you.
But you know he hates himself for it, hates that he’s a good decade older than you, that you’re Sarah’s babysitter, that this – this twisted arrangement you have where you stay when he gets back and then end up in his bed – is the only thing that gets him through those long works days sometimes.
“I know,” you say, “but it’s getting kind of hard to resist, isn’t it?”
“You should leave,” he says, thrusting up into you, “we should – Jesus, baby, just like that – we should stop.”
You arch up off the bed, tilting your hips so that he can drive his cock deeper, bottoming out and groaning brokenly into your ear. It’s filthy. Depraved, probably: The slap of his hips as he cants them up into yours, the breathy moans that tumble from your mouth, Joel’s desperate, needy curses.
It’s easy to make him come like this: Three steady, deliberate rolls of your hips and he’s a quivering mess beneath you, his hands fisting in the sheets as he spurts hot and wet inside you.
After, you tell him you should probably leave. He makes you come with his fingers first, tells you to finish your wine, that it still ain’t that late.
And when the sun’s on your skin at 6am, he’s there watching you sleep, hoping you’ll say you’ll stay, even though you should probably leave.
#joel miller#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#joel x reader#joel x you#the last of us fic#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#pedro pascal#joel miller fanfic#joel miller au#au! no outbreak#SoundCloud
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Picture credit: xbruised_peachx on Twitter
Sorry but I’m on my young recruit König & old colonel König brainrot again
CW: More polyamory headcanons with 2 Königs. Healthy relationship with old König and toxic relationship with young König, possessive behaviour, jealousy, NSFW 18+ only
The way he greets you when he comes back is so sweet you almost melt right there on the doorstep. He cups your face with both hands, gives you the most tender kiss known to mankind, and envelops you in a soul-warming hug. The love of your life sighs deeply as he holds you; his sweet, adorable wife. The Colonel may be a little tired but he's also extremely happy to be home again.
Colonel König, the older, calmer version of König is everything a woman could want. You married him early because he charmed you right off your feet.
You ride him on the first night because you simply want to show how much you've missed him. Colonel König never objects to you taking the reins every now and then. You see it from his eyes that he’s in seventh heaven whenever you bounce on his cock. He’s just happy to see you take your pleasure from him. He’s the luckiest man on earth because his needy young wife never gets enough of him – it strokes his ego that someone like you wants someone like him.
He always puts his things where they belong and takes a shower before walking into the living room and falling on the sofa with another deep sigh. He looks like he just fought an entire war by himself. When you go to make some dinner, he bounces back up and offers to help. You have to convince him that he can rest while you prepare some food. When you return with the meal, the tv is on but the Colonel is snoring softly on the couch.
He praises you and the meal, and you both talk about your days (or weeks). It calms your nerves just to talk with him. Colonel König is cultured and mature and you can talk to him about politics or the squirrels in your garden or some new documentary you've watched. He can hold any conversation.
He's illegally hot with his deep voice and loving stare, not to mention the thick muscles covered by a healthy layer of fat. You pride yourself on giving him some of that by feeding him so well. He already has a few laugh lines at the corner of his eyes – you pride yourself on giving those to him, too.
In the morning he’s much more vigorous. A good night's rest does wonders to any man, and König wakes up to cuddle you with a good, hard, thick erection. If you’re still sleepy, he will go down on you – he loves it when you’re too tired and warm and pleased to fight him.
He edges you for at least an hour: now it’s his turn to show how much he has missed you and how much he appreciates it that he has a cozy, beautiful home and a lovely, beautiful wife to return to. He’s sure he won the lottery with you, and you’re sure you’ve been blessed with the most attentive gentleman on earth. You feel like floating before you even get to the breakfast table.
Colonel König brings you small gifts and expensive flowers everytime he comes home, and takes you on a vacation to a new, exciting place every chance he can get, which is multiple times a year. You never have to ask for anything because he already got it for you.
You never have to fear you’re too much, or too moody, too this or too that: König appreciates you just the way you are and takes your fits and breakdowns and insecurities and PMS struggles like a champ. He stays calm during any storm and you can always trust him with all your troubles. You stopped apologizing for yourself an aeon ago because you know König doesn’t want to hear it: he only wants to comfort and console you when life has been hard on you. He will do anything to make it better, and if he can’t make it better, he will hold you long and fast until you smile again.
He takes such good care of you that you cried into his chest hair about it once. König only caressed you and said you deserve all of it and more. You could hear the calm, content smile on his lips while you were ugly crying about him being too good for you and spoiling you to bits.
When you asked if there’s anything you can do to return the many favors he’s given you, his face turned super smug before he suggested that you could always blow him. That’s probably the most obscene thing you've ever heard him say, which is why your face was all flushed when you travelled down to suck his already hard cock.
If only he didn’t have to repair the damage left behind by his younger version, you two would be the happiest couple this world has ever seen. Life would be peaceful and his home would stay nice and clean if the young, horny recruit had never walked into your life. He would have more energy and he could go back to work with a peaceful mind if it weren’t for this boy who has yet to learn how to be a man. A boy he couldn't deny you because you must always have everything you want; it's a law he lives by. You saved him from himself, and he will see you happy no matter what.
For some reason a troubled, violent young pup who shows a woman he loves them by bullying and fucking them to a quivering heap is what makes you happy at this point in life. Perhaps it's only a bonus that the rookie takes the blunt of your libido... otherwise he might be in trouble with his younger wife.
It’s just that the Colonel knows he can’t satisfy all your needs. You have a dark side, which he appreciates, and he thinks he’s being a good man when he allows this to happen. He's a good man, both to you and to the rookie who is the cockiest and also the most deranged, damaged little creature he has ever seen.
He tries his best to carve a man out of this poor, traumatized young bastard. He tries his best to give you the opportunity to live your life to the full by having two men who absolutely and utterly worship you... in their own ways.
Because when Young Recruit König comes home?
He’s not tired at all. He’s just excited and pent-up from being away from you for so long. He greets you by lifting you into a bone-crushing hug, sets you down when you whimper, and buries his face into your neck. You never get a kiss on the lips or a peck on the cheek: young König gives you a long, bruising love bite on your neck while you squirm and whine in his hold. He's something of a sadist when he only laughs and asks, “How has my sweet little Muschi* been...?” *Muschi means pussy in German :(
He doesn’t offer to help, he just throws his bags on the floor and asks what’s for dinner. If you have it ready, he nuzzles his face into your neck again and says how much he loves you, how perfect you are, and how he’s going to show how much he missed you after he's had a taste of your delicious cookings.
You watch how he eats almost all of it, a meal meant for an entire family. Colonel König eats like a horse, too, but he’s modest compared to our young rookie who goes to the gym in addition to his hectic job and probably burns 4000 calories per day just by daydreaming of filthy scenarios with you.
Don’t even think about riding him slowly into the sunset. Young König takes you while you’re on your knees, your ass and pussy exposed to his hungry gaze and hard cock. It borders on humiliating sometimes, the way he treats you. You grab for support from the sheets, knowing that it’s useless.
You’re in luck if you happen to cum, because the first round is just him using his little muschi, the tight, sweet hole he’s missed so much. He sounds like an animal until he cums, then kisses you all over when he’s done. You both sound like you're about to cry as he gives you hot, fond smooches where it tickles the most, getting some kind of sick satisfaction from the way you squirm and shudder in his hold again.
Round two is much more gentle and König is way more attentive, now focusing solely on you. Or at least on how you look under him, how desperate and wet your eyes get, how your tits bounce when he makes love to you. Well, you wouldn’t say that the younger version of König even knows how to make love – the old Colonel has tried to teach him, but he seems to get very pissed at anyone telling him what to do and how to do it. Plus he knows he can give you what the old man can or will not: a rough fucking that leaves you breathless, helpless and very much in love.
Because even if the first time is pure madness, the sessions that follow are made of intense adoration. König is obsessed with you and your desperate moans, your tight, wet cunt, the way he can make you cum three or four or even five times a day. He’s not the most gentle, attentive guy but he will do anything in his power to make you shiver, shake, beg, and clench. While Colonel tries to savour you nice and slow, the younger recruit lives for extremes. Sometimes it feels like he’s trying to drive you (or himself) mad.
The sheets have to be changed on the third day of his leave, and there’s not a surface in your house he hasn’t bullied you on or against. After a few days of fucking and living on takeaway food (König won’t let you from his sights for one minute), the young recruit finally calms down and agrees to watch some movies with you. You even get him to do some chores.
He won't help you in the garden like Colonel König because he's interested in the most dangerous, illegal or unnecessary jobs in the house, such as: can he fix the weather vane while balancing on a slippery roof, or would it be any fun if he did some DIY electrical work by himself. But he will help you with your computer, fix you some weed and turn a cooking session into a play fight that ends with you both on the kitchen floor and König sampling you instead of the sauce you tried to offer him.
This young rookie comes home with a wine bottle or some new sexy lingerie for you to wear (and him to tear right off). One day he comes home with a kitten, a scared little orange tabby, and asks if you like it while an evil grin spreads on his face. The poor thing tries to scratch and claw König but he has his gloves on, and when it gets released to your apartment, it runs under the sofa and won't come out, not before König comes up with a solution that involves some tuna. You're 100% sure he either stole that kitten or found it abandoned somewhere.
König leaves you in the good care of his older version, knowing that the aftercare he provided barely counts as aftercare because it’s filled with manic kisses and hugs that hardly allow you to breathe. The things he mutters in your ear when he holds you are usually about you being the best pussy he’s ever had, or about would you like it if he killed the old fart.
The cat turns out to be very vocal and cuddly but it also destroys your curtains and the Colonel's side of the bed. It grows up to be a violent bird hunting machine and an entire menace that, perhaps to no one's surprise, reminds you of your young lover.
Conversations with König mainly include him mansplaining things to you. He boasts a lot and you get the feeling he's actually very insecure under all that brash cockiness. But whenever you try to work on that with him, he soon gets annoyed, frustrated, or horny. Any attention is both poison and elixir for this man.
When you start to cry from him being so intense with you and mean to the man you love (the man who allows this young rookie to eat his food, fuck his wife and practically live in the house he bought with hard work) he says it’s only because he knows you’re not happy with him, not really.
But he can make you happy. He has money too. He can give you everything you want, too. And didn’t he just make you cum twice with his tongue and cock? Can the old man do that, eh? What else do you need? What else could you even ask for?
You have to make your calls and texts to the Colonel in secret even if your arrangement is known to all parties involved. It’s just that the young recruit becomes even more crazy and possessive in bed if he sees or hears you talking to his rival. You get the sense that he's not just crazy and self-centered: he's actually so desperately in love with you that he can't take the reminder that you're someone else's wife.
You tried to live together once, but it ended in both of your lovers in the hospital and you crying next to their beds. They made an uneasy truce after that, and agreed that they should take turns with you.
They mainly talk to each other through you nowadays. The "talking" mainly consist of threats which you never deliver.
Colonel König says he’ll snap the young prick’s neck if he ever hurts you in any way, your body or your feelings. You never say to him that the damage is already done – well, perhaps he hasn't hurt your body, which is sore from all the love, yes, but never abused. But he has hurt your feelings many times by being so callous, intimidating, and reckless.
Your nervous system is constantly on high alert with the young recruit who fantasizes very openly and cruelly about all the things he’d like to do to the Colonel (such as "if he tries to show me how to fuck this sweet Muschi again, I will fuck him to his grave with his own dick" or "I have a bullet with your lover's name on it. Have you ever held a gun, kleiner Schatz? Would you like me to show you how to load a rifle?")
When you remind him that you’re the Colonel’s wife, and won’t listen to such violent, stupid nonsense, the young recruit smiles with another devilish grin and says you needn’t worry: you wouldn’t be a widow for long. He would propose to you once the funeral is over and done with. Perhaps he’ll propose at the funeral. Would you like that…? Would it make you wet?
It's the only time you actually slapped him, and it only got him hard. When you were shocked about that too, he asked why do you think men go to the army in the first place, and urged you to slap the Colonel too and see what it does to him.
What you find a bit funny though is how this entitled young man seems to think about the Colonel everytime he’s inside you. He always brags about how he fucks you better than him, how he knows you prefer his mouth over the old man’s. He knows his cock is bigger too: he compared once when they were having a piss outside. He also knows you should make babies with him: they would be very healthy. Surely you’d choose him over the old Colonel if it came to breeding you? If you ever want children, you only need to ask...
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Pointing out little moments and details of my fav s3 scene.
choir practice scene • episode 2
this scene caught me so off guard, in the best way possible.
it only took simon's "you should do an activity you actually like" for wilhelm to drop everything and choose getting to spend more time with him!
simon's reaction at wille joining the choir was also mine: he can't believe his eyes and keeps looking back at him with the brightest smile on his face. and simon shifting wille's attention to where the song lyric is bc it's all new to him is adorable.
wilhelm's little proud smirk between the kisses while simon is so into it: he knew and imagined simon's surprised and happy reaction to all this, but i bet he was thriving to see it up until this very moment. so he might just be thinking that he made the best choice of his life.
having to practice and wait for everyone to leave was probably torture for simon, when all he really wanted to do since wille came in was this (simon's main love language is clearly acts of service btw *cough*). he felt important, cared for, loved - and couldn't wait to reciprocate it.
also, he's holding the key chain and happens to do the middle finger with the same hand. if you look at it as a way of saying 'mind your own business' to us is quite funny.
simon setting the rhythm and wilhelm fully going along with it. they don't even separate their lips before leaning in for another kiss - melting into it. they literally said 'no need to catch air bc we're already breathing each other in'.
simon not breaking physical contact even once. his hands are the third main character in this scene: they act like a glue for their bodies and carry so much passion. it is peak chemistry.
going on his tiptoes to push himself as close as possible and clinging to wille for dear life is the most simon thing he's ever done. love really brings out the cuddliest version of him.
smiling into the kisses and out of the kisses? insane of them if you ask me (i support it) (keep doing it lovers).
wille smiling and biting his lip bc he's the one overwhelmed by simon's presence now. physical touch is his love language and he's flooded with simon's - he must feel the luckiest boyfriend on earth.
one of their greatest proofs of love has always been to provide each other's comfort by being exactly what they lack receiving from other people or what they need most of the times - it's a constant learning of how to give and take.
they can't get enough of it: it's not even only about the kissing but more about their need to just keep pulling the other closer, leaning into each other, slowing their movements to not leg go yet but take time to touch and deeply feel instead - wille's face speaks for itself. this hug is so intimate ugh.
it's finally shown a glimpse of wille's hand on simon's back! it was always there obv but it's nice to see it more properly.
wilhelm obsessing over simon's neck and simon who tilts his head back to make it more accessible. wille could've done it all and trace the path with kisses - simon wished - but the boy knew what he was doing!
the way simon looks up at him and wille rubs their noses back and forth, keeping his eyes on him, gives me butterflies.
they're super affectionate and it's the easiest thing for them to do. the intimacy that comes with their whispering, their own personal space becoming one for both of them to share bc it's safer, warmer, a lot more comfortable. everything is such a manifesto of how much they genuinely adore each other - it's what makes this the it scene for me.
their bottom lips touching are sooo *internally screaming*.
wilhelm stands still to let simon's lips brush past his own and simon's cheek resting against wille's lips to enjoy the feeling a little longer. they look so peaceful.
it happens after wille's "i like listening to you sing": they went from "he likes it when i sing" / "i do too, don't i?" (locker room's fight in s2) to wilhelm actually telling him that listening to his voice is one of the main reasons he joined the choir. it has to be extremely special for simon to finally hear it.
idk if it's just my mind making this up but let's pretend simon is kissing wille's neck here!
wilhelm picking simon up by the waist to carry him elsewhere and keep the thing going more privately. that's my wille.
can you believe this is the face of someone who's saying that he needs to go? to not miss the bus? he just looks crazy in love to me.
wille's laugh is cute! and simon throwing his stuff on the floor bc the priority was to push his boyfriend against the lockers to make out will never not be funny.
also, @allthefakepeople once said the only thing that could've made this scene even more perfect is if simon paused when walking away and ran back to wille to steal a quick goodbye kiss - ahhh i'd have been so here for it!
#sorry not sorry for rambling#this scene deserves all the praise#young royals#young royals analysis#yr s3#choir practice scene#wilhelm x simon#wilmon
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Kinktober day 17
John Gillman/Homelander + cock warming
Hes so cute in this gif, like omg...
Readers a silverfox, aka an older hot man, cuz you can’t tell me Homelander wouldn’t climb older men who gave him positive attention.
Kinktober 2023 masterlist
The noise of typing on a keyboard could be heard throughout your office as you worked, the sleeves of your button-up rolled up to your elbows, your greying hair ruffled from its usually gelled hairstyle. You had been working nonstop for days at this point, only taking breaks for short naps or to refill your coffee cup when Ashley or other assistants weren’t around to do it for you.
You had worked for Vought for a long time, as long as Stan Edgar, though you hadn’t felt the need to be the CEO as you weren’t cruel enough for that role. So, you easily gave it up for Stan and took a lower, but still very high rank in the company. Your role involved many things, but one of them happened to be dealing with Homelander, or John as you called him behind doors, as he had always been drawn to you from day one.
You had met him for the first time when he started as Homelander, as you weren’t too involved with the whole creation of supes, as you liked having plausible deniability. Of course, you knew it happened and how it worked, you weren’t on even foot with Stan Edgar for so long and not know, but really, he seemed to gain more joy from it than you, so you let him keep it.
But back to the present, you leaned back into your seat with a sigh, running a hand over your face and massaging at the ugly wrinkle that always appeared on your face as you worked. A small moan could be heard between your legs as you changed your position, the person between them shuffling forwards to take you fully between his lips once again.
Looking down, your eyes met the sight of your sweet boy, Homelander, his eyelashes resting beautifully against his cheekbones as he held you between his lips. As you ran your hand through his tussled hair, he seemed to sigh and become even more relaxed, his tongue limp against the bottom side of your soft length.
He was so well behaved, always aching for your attention and praise. When Homelander first started out he had been softer and more anxious, but as time passed he had become quite egotistical and bratty, but you were always able to keep him on a tight leash when it was just the two of you, as he seemed to ache so deeply for your attention.
His eyes fluttered open as you brushed your thumb over his cheek, his pupils blown so wide they almost swallowed up the blue in his eyes. He looked almost drunk as he let his head fall to rest against your thigh, his mouth still securely wrapped around you. As if testing his luck, John gave a soft almost hesitant suck as he looked up at you, his glazed expression sharpening enough to see if you had any negative reaction to his behaviour.
Normally you’d have scolded him for acting against your orders, as you had told him to just warm you as you worked, but you were technically taking a break from your reports, and he had behaved so well. “It’s okay baby” you mumbled, caressing the side of his head before you ran it through his hair in an almost affectionate move.
You could visibly see him shudder as you finally allowed him to move, his head slowly bopping up and down as John finally allowed himself to start to suck and swallow around you, rubbing his tongue against the underside of your cock as he pulled his head up, swirling it around the tip, before swallowing it all the way down again.
“Such a good boy” you praise in your tired voice, watching as he seemed to twitch and shiver at your praise and affection, your touch only seeming to fuel him further as he moved his head faster, his hands coming up to grip your thighs to give him more leverage to swallow you down to the root. His throat fluttered around you, and you could see tears well up in his eyes as he gave a soft gag, though it didn’t seem to be slowing him down.
Even as the most powerful member of the Seven, John still found his gag reflex acting up every now and then as he sloppily moved through the motions, tiny huffs and whines leaving him like a pup begging for love and attention.
You felt your head drop back against the seat as you could feel your limit approaching, you weren’t as young as you used to be, and you knew it would be your only orgasm of the night. Years ago, you might have been able to get hard multiple times during one night, but age seemed to do that to a person, not that John seemed to mind at all, in reality he only seemed to become more drawn to you the older you got. When you had started commenting about colouring your hair because of the grey appearing in it, he had almost burst into tears, so you kept it.
John let out a louder sloppier moan as you spilled against the back of his throat and against his hungry tongue, letting him savour the taste for as long as he wanted. After a while you had to softly push his head back though, patting his shoulder to get him up and into your lap, as your back had started complaining about lifting him and carrying him around the past few years.
John let out a satisfied sigh as he cuddled against you, pressing his face into your neck and nuzzling against you like an affectionate cat, almost purring as you rubbed his back and muttered half formed words of praise and affection. You would let him float in your arms for a while you decided as you rolled your chair back towards your desk, at least until your legs lost circulation from his weight on top of you. In the meantime you could start working on tomorrows paperwork.
#kinktober#kinktober 2023#male reader#homelander#john gillman#the boys#homelander imagine#homelander headcanon#homelander x male reader#homelander x reader#john gillman imagine#john gillman headcanon#john gillman x male reader#john gillman x reader#the boys imagine#the boys headcanon#the boys x male reader#the boys x reader#silver fox reader#homelander is my cutie patootie i love him so much...#hes like a little kitten to me
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Okay, honestly, I'm still reeling from the entire penacony quest, but here's my take on Sunday so far;
He's manipulative, obviously.
But like.. the type that's kind of hesitant from time to time because he's still sincere to a degree. At least, when it comes to his loved ones.
So, I guess that hesitance decreases a lot if you're just some nobody. Even then, Sunday does want the better for everyone, too. It just means that others may bear the brunt of it for the most part before being able to get ahold of it.
Also, at the very least, even if some people suffer, at the end Sunday believes they will reach where they want to, after. In that case, however, Sunday suffers far more than them, without actually ever reaching his own destination or idea of paradise.
However, this view is a bit distorted. Sunday believes to be "sacrificing" himself, shouldering loneliness and burdens in order to uphold everyone else's "paradise". But to the others, he's simply a tyrant overruling everyone's will with his own idea of Order.
Sunday deeply cares. He cares too much. That's kind of the problem.
A bit of self-destructing tendencies when pushed too far, I guess.
Lets ignore logic established by the quest for a second (because i literally am still reeling from it)
Imagine Sunday first discovers this possibility. He's terrified of it, but at the same time, he truly thinks this is humanity's salvage – for everyone who has deeply suffered. He thinks of you.
You who have had your fair share of pain, who confides in him late at night in the quiet of your privacy, hushed voices like silenced by a thick blanket through the wall.
You deserve to live a sweeter life. He thinks. No. You deserve more. He knows.
The first person he ever wants to step into this paradise – you.
Now, although Sunday was defeated in the end, we all know that unfortunately, our ragtag team had to wake up again because defeating him first was a dream. This means at some point, Sunday did succeed.
And after everyone wakes, you don't. You continue sleeping soundly. So does Sunday.
The rest of the world can return to their miserable, bitter lives outside of this dream; but Sunday will be damned if he's letting you go. Perhaps.. it's not a selfless wish, anymore. Perhaps at this point, Sunday desperately, selfishly, grips onto you with the latches of a sweet, deep dream. One where he was fatally destined to never reach, only to control from the waking world. Now that everyone else has woken, he wants to return to the dream. He wants to return to you, who he has so lovingly entrenched deep into it.
Also, Robin. Im in SO much pain... PLEASW..
Do you guys think.. even if Robin was vehemently resistant against Sunday's ideas..
Even though Sunday knew she wouldn't stand for it..
Do you guys think.. he wanted her to also join him at the end and enjoy the "Paradise" he created aswell?
Do you think he would have wanted Robin to stop worrying about everything, to take rest, to finally come home, and sing to her heart's content inside the dream? The dream where they set the bird free? The dream where Sunday still has a sweet tooth? The dream where she never has to wear elaborate neck-pieces? The dream where neither of them was hurt? Where neither of them left each other?
Oh...ogh. . My heart.
Sunday would be such a scary lover, too.
I mean even normally, I don't think a relationship with him would be that healthy
Particularly because it seems so healthy
If reader was in a relationship with normal sunday, I mean.. it's gonna at least appear healthy and normal, even to them. It's probably just Sunday having to constantly burden himself with all the dirty strings he has to pull, the quiet rush of water when he washes his hands before caressing the side of your face, the tight, closed smile he would give if you ever asked him what was wrong.. he can't let you know.
I think he'll take a yandere route in an established relationship if you do happen to find out what's been going on behind the scenes. He'll have to calm you down, and you promise you won't peep about it. The build up is almost invisible, because things seem to go back to the way they were. Before Sunday starts acting a bit.. restless. That would be when his yan! Tendencies would start kicking in, for a variety of reasons.
I feel like y'know, out of all the hsr cast, he's one of the characters who is genuinely very close to becoming a yandere canonically. Control freak? Check. Twisted ideals? Check. Unchecked power? Check. Hypnotization/manipulation? Check.
Also, the slight difference of his color pallete as opposed to Robin's.
His is much more washes out than Robin's. It's more "duller" but also more professional, and the gold of his halo is more colder than the warmer tone of Robin's halo. They both still have white/grey as a major color in their palletes, but Sunday's is accompanied by deep navy blues, or washed out blues. Robin's is very vibrant and purple. The only blue segment of her pallete is her hair, and it's remarkably more vibrant than Sunday's.
Also.. Sunday's whole ideas on "weak" and "strong"
Of course, it wasn't all correct, but that doesn't mean they didn't hold some semblance of sense.
Regardless, this playing with yan! Tendencies..... HOOOOO boy
So many thoughts. Sunday manipulating his partner is quite possibly the most common theme in them.
#moonink#hsr#honkai star rail#hsr spoilers#honkai star rail spoilers#hsr yandere#yandere hsr#yandere honkai star rail#hsr x gender neutral reader#hsr x y/n#hsr x you#hsr x male reader#hsr x reader#yandere honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail x gender neutral reader#honkai star rail x you#honkai star rail x reader#hsr sunday#sunday hsr#honkai star rail sunday#hsr sunday x you#hsr sunday x y/n#hsr sunday x reader#honkai sr#yandere sunday x reader#sunday x y/n#sunday x reader#sunday x you#yandere sunday x you#yandere sunday
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