#and there's no reason to worship your love because it's just 'casual'??!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

uravichii · 1 year

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pov: you're drop-dead gorgeous (and they don't know how to deal with it)

character/s: bakugo katsuki, shinsou hitoshi, kaminari denki, todoroki shouto

genre: fluff, crack (?), them hyping u up like there's no tomorrow, uhh reader wears makeup 🤕

notes: this is for all u pretty mfs aka all of u whether u believe it or not YOU ARE PRETTY AMD HOT AND AMAZING 😡‼️ also disclaimer: the boys love u not just for your face. they think you're so cool for being beautiful inside n out and this is just them appreciating the out 🧎‍♀️

bakugo katsuki thinks you're so pretty that his only response to it is to be angry. he'd watch intently the way you'd smooth your clothes down and cutely fiddle with your hair in the mirror as if there's even anything to fix. he'll cup your pretty face in his hands and squeeze your cheeks together (cuteness aggression probably), "tell me why you're so fucking pretty all the time? what are you so pretty for, huh?!"

bakugo katsuki would always watch you do your makeup and hair and then slip into the prettiest clothes only you can pull off and he's just mesmerized by the whole thing.

"katsuki, please stop drooling and get dressed. we're gonna be late."

his only response is: "fuck off."

because he can never deny nor hide the fact that he constantly admires you every chance he gets. he storms his way to you and snatches a shimmery eyeshadow from your makeup bag. "tch, you don't even need any of this shit."

"you don't like it, katsuki?" you stare up at him doe-eyed, easily making his heart skip a beat.

"h-hah?! i didn't say that!" he shoves it to your hand, "now do this glittery shit next!"

and you just ditch whatever plans you'd made and spend the rest of the night trying on different makeup looks. he'll insist that you sit on his lap while you doll yourself up just because, and you gladly do so but then you both end up wearing a full face of glam makeup 🧍‍♀️ he doesn't know how he just let it happen but he's like, "whatever makes you fucking happy, y/n."

he then proceeds to tell you that, "every one of those ugly extras should grovel at your feet, worship the ground you walk on, and then beg for your forgiveness."

"forgive them for what?"

he stares blankly at you. "for breathing the same air as you."

bakugo katsuki's not active on social media at all but on his instagram, his first and only post is a photo dump of just youー the selfies you took on his phone, your date outfits, candid photos (by courtesy of bakugo katsuki) of you smiling at a stray cat, the power nap you took on his shoulder, and his favorite one by far: a photo of you wearing his black tank top that completely swallows you up, holding up two little peace signs on your cheeks.

and of course, he captions it, "u and ur ugly ass wish u were y/n."

shinsou hitoshi is convinced he's dating a model. he doesn't know how it happened, but he is a little proud of whatever the hell was in him that managed to rizz you up.

he thinks you look amazing in absolutely anything. so when you go clothes shopping together, he casually picks up all types of clothes from the racks until there's a whole pile of them in his arms.

when you shoot him a questioning look about it, he only says, "think you'll look amazing in these, babe."

he also picks up some accessories and just wears them on youー hats, sunglasses, hair pins, and you just let him because each time you let him accessorize you, he gives those little comments like, "amazing." "cute" "this one's tacky; i put it on you as a joke but you pull it off for some reason." "yes. slayed." he made you wear cat ears one time and he just melts right there, immediately taking a photo of you for his new lockscreen.

it bothers shinsou hitoshi a lot when people stare at you even when they can clearly see his hand on the small of your back. he'll slide closer to you and kiss the top of your head all the while he gives them a death stare he wishes he could do more.

he squeezes your waist a little to call your attention.

"hm? what's up, hitoshi?"

he looks at you blankly, taking in your features in awe as if for the first time again. then he stuffs your face into his chest, your legs staggering as you grab a hold of his forearms.

"hey, what are you doing?" you giggle in his chest. he's relieved you can't see his flushed cheeks. "hitoshiii"

"you're too good for this world, y/n. i need to start gatekeeping you."

what blows shinsou hitoshi's mind the most is how you're probably unaware of your effect on him, no matter how many times he's called you all synonyms of the word, 'beautiful'

he's sat on the couch, a tiny smile of adoration tugging on his lips when he sees you running up to him. your eyes brim with excitement as you call his name, truly the prettiest ones he's ever seen.

"something happened?ー" he pauses when you lean your face so close to his. he sinks back into the couch as the tips of ears start to turn red.

it takes a moment until he realizes that you're showing off the purple eyeshadow you had done on yourself, batting your eyelashes at him as you wait for his response bc right now he's just staring at you like 😦💘‼️‼️‼️

"it's the one you picked out from the mall yesterday. is it pretty?"

"y/n." his hands slowly find their way to your waist, "i don't believe you're real sometimes. you are possibly the most beautiful person i've ever seen."

"really?"

"god," he pulls you by the waist until you're sat on his lap, your legs straddling him. "you have no idea."

remember how bakugo said all those extras should be groveling at your feet and worshipping you? yeah, it's kaminari denki. he worships you.

he thinks you're beautiful and he's LOUD about it.

he's constantly bragging about you to his friends and showing off your photos (if you're comfy w/ that), "oh this? oh yeah, this is is y/n, the coolest, funniest, drop dead gorgeous, most ethereal person on earth and they're dating ME."

and bakugo would just grab his phone and knock it against his head with a thud 🤕, "WE FUCKING GET IT. NOW, SHUT UP, DUMBASS."

he'll rub his head while cackling, "whatever, i'm dating Y/N. who cares about anything if you're dating y/n?"

kaminari denki doesn't love you just for your beauty though. you're not just some eye candy to him. if someone ever called you one though, you bet he's zapping their ass and with the whole bakusquad by his side because somehow they feel obligated to protect you now too. 🧍‍♀️ (denki's effect)

and just as much as he compliments your beauty everyday, he never forgets to let you know how beautiful your heart is too. in fact, he calls you 'angel' because how could someone be this beautiful and be so kind and caring to him at the same time?

"sometimes.." he looks up pensively from his lap where you lay your head, "i feel like i've been blessed by the heavens when i got to date you.

"denkiー"

"don't even think i'm exaggerating, y/n!" he pokes your cheek when you turn your head to look at him, "you're amazing. i don't know what i did for you to give me a chance."

there are times though when a part of kaminari denki feels a little insecure because he thinks he looks quite stupid next to you, and it doesn't help either that the bakusquad never lets him hear the end of it 😔

"denki, you don't look stupid because you're next to me. you do that on your own."

"aww, thank yー hol' up." 🤨

he's pouting but you immediately wipe that off by apologizing and peppering his face with kisses, ending it with a loud smooch on his lips with a "mmmwah!"

kaminari denki now can't remember what you're even apologizing for in the first place.

you and todoroki shouto are so beautiful, the visuals are blinding 😩 you'd walk to your classroom together, him opening the door for you and you smiling at him, lovingly squeezing his arm as a silent 'thank you,' and people just stare with their mouths agape, not knowing who exactly to be jealous of.

shouto definitely stares the most though until it concerns midoriya, "t-todoroki-kun, you haven't moved in three minutes. are you okay?" because he might as well have drawn hearts on his eyes and stab an arrow to his heart with the way he looks at you.

todoroki shouto always kisses your eyes, nose, cheeks, hair, and your lips, of course, just to let you know how beautiful he thinks they are.

he thinks whatever you do or wear is so pretty, hence, the many, many photos of you on his phone. his lockscreen changes every 2 days because everyday he just gets a prettier shot of you, and he always shows them to you and to his friends and siblings ☹️ because everyone, including you, should appreciate what a beauty you are!

"this looks great! you'd make a great photographer, shouto" you lean in to kiss his cheek, immediately sending a flush across his face.

"well..." he looks to the ground, the feeling of your lips still lingering on his right cheek. "that's all you... you're beautiful. i don't know how it has anything to do with me, but thank you."

and then he leans closer, tilting his head to the side to silently ask for another kiss. you laugh softly at this, and when you cup his cheeks in your hands and start planting kisses all over his face the way he does to you, shouto confirms it in his mindー y/n is an angel.

todoroki shouto would get a little overboard with the photos though because he'll spam that button and keep every single one. when you ask why keep the blurry ones, he explains, "that's still a photo of you. why would i delete it?"

he also has a photo of his point of view from when he had his head on your lap. he said he wanted to capture "the happiest moment of his life." you convince yourself it's sweet but it's literally just a photo of your chin in a weird angle.

"shouto, that's just my chin."

he looks at you dead in the eye. "y/n, you have a lovely chin."

you call him a weirdo, which surprises him a little, but then you drape your arms around his neck and pepper kisses all over his face again because who else in the world would say that to you?

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idontknowreallyidontcare · 5 months

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Silly Husband!König decided to give it a try to one of Soap’s girlfriend’s ideas. Out with the boys for a beer, he let it slip that in some weeks you’d celebrate your first anniversary and he’s just scared of not being able to make you live a night full of passion, he’s getting a bit old after all.

Some of the girlfriends were trying to give him lots of advice, “don’t watch porn, don’t masturbate, don’t be overly sexual because you might not be able to get it up”, Soap’s girlfriend casually mentions just taking some aphrodisiacs and calling it a night (better if taken some hours before the act, so sexual tension can be built up). Soap ends up telling König how it actually works and how his girlfriend never had a complaint while they used them, just make sure not to exaggerate with the dose/the amount of times you use it.

Husband!König returning home to you, finding your precious self asleep on the couch as his heart starts pounding and blood rushing, he just loves you so much, he will not risk anything to ruin the day of your anniversary. He brings you to your shared bed and gently tucks you in, kissing your temple as he gets out the room, closing the door slowly so he doesn’t wake you up.

Husband!König that spends the night on the computer and researches the topic of aphrodisiacs, writing down every pro and con he finds. He goes thru a list of the safest ones to buy and chooses the absolute best one, paying a good amount of money for it, but it’s all for his sweet lady upstairs, he would pay millions just to make sure she’s safe.

Husband!König that receives his package and runs to hide it asap, so you don’t see or suspect anything. Your anniversary it’s in a week, he can’t risk to ruin the whole surprise. The bottle it’s actually small, or maybe his hands are too big (umm.. DUH?), but he reads the instructions very well, aside from trying to remember what the website he bought this thing from said. A maximum of 2 drops mixed with anything, or just plopped in the mouth and swallowed, if taken more, there was not really any risk, the state of the aphrodisiac would just last longer, but don’t go over 5 drops, it’ll be painful to deal with the effects for DAYS!

Husband!König is getting ready for your dinner, being finally the day of your anniversary, and as you’re still stuck on your make up, he prepares two glasses of champagne for you two to drink before going. Of course he has a reason to, he squeezes, well he tries to, some drops of the aphrodisiac. He’s careful to remember not to go above 5 drops, and decides to be precautious, he’s squeezing in 2 for you, you’re a young lady, your stamina still pretty high, while he gives himself double, 4 drops hoping he didn’t fuck up, still, he’ll think later about consequences. He brings the glasses upstairs to you, and you both drink, you thank him and notice how he is not able to keep his hands off you already. You have to drag him outside the house, or you’re risking your dress ripped off and your makeup destroyed, but it’s still too early for that!!

Husband!König that’s being tasted for the whole duration of the dinner, you caress his hands, your foot seductively touching his leg, running up and down his calf, your eyes focusing on his face and never breaking eye contact, your lips, your voice, everything about you is so sexy and seductive, and he can’t wait to just bring you home and give you a proper fuck, one you’ll never forget, and not because it’s your first anniversary together, but because he really plans to fuck you good, worship you but still get you all dirty and messed up for him. He’s a man of thought, he bought condoms, he has lube, even bought one that tastes like strawberry, he’ll pour it on your pussy and enjoy himself between your legs for a good amount of time. He has cuffs, ropes, toys that you would already regularly use, but tonight he wants to push you to the limits, he’ll probably stick his cock inside your pussy while he fucks your ass with a dildo, he’ll make sure to torture your clit with a vibrator while he fucks your ass, and play with your tits, maybe even sticking his cock between them too! Night’s young and he has a lot of plans, he can tell that his magic drops are working on you also, not just on him, because the moment you both leave the restaurant you’re leeched onto him, grabbing, touching, tracing his body and hungrily kissing his lips when he allows you to. He’s a taste, he’s not lowering himself on purpose just to hear you beg and whine about wanting his lips.

Husband!König who stands on his title as a silly man, because he might be actually good with technology, but why would he not delete the chrome history on a computer he knew very well you were using too. Maybe it was a slip, maybe he really didn’t think that his searches would pop up on the search bar the moment you typed an ‘A’ onto the keyboard, eager to look for ‘Austrian foods’ to make for him, just to have ‘Aphrodisiacs for couples, pros and cons’ pop up as a recent search. Needless to say, you left it be, your silly husband was onto something and you were really exited to see how it would all play out. You knew the moment he brought you the glass of champagne, you knew what he had put inside, and you still drank all of it. Careful not to spill a drop. The night was long ahead, you knew, but were more than happy about it. Feeling your panties already sticking to your folds while in the car was an indicator that the aphrodisiac was indeed in your champagne, and it was working its magic already! Of course he wanted you to suffer a bit by giving it to you before dinner, but he mostly wanted to edge himself, force himself to have you all wet and ready for him the whole time you were at the restaurant, having to wait till back home to have you in every place and position he wanted.

#cod x reader #konig cod #konig smut #konig x reader smut #husband König

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circeius-invidioso · 29 days

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I do not get why the Red Corsairs are not a popular choice.

Like.

Like here is the elevator pitch for the warband and then we can come to some justified conclusion.

What isn't there to love?

You want me to turn into an infomencial and make a top 3 reasons why the Red Corsairs are great?

Cause I can.

And I will.

The Diverse Working Enviroment

Here in the Red Corsairs we might have started as Ultramarines but the barrier for entry is on the floor. So anyone can join.

You are Night Lord with a bad rep and no ship.

Buckle up we got you covered.

You are a Fallen and have 20 Dark Angels all up in yo business? Trying to shoot down the boss babe you are?

Fear not, or in our case. Know no Fear. We are strapped and don't get clapped.

You are a traitor that likes their Legion but sadly you got in our way?

Tough luck buddy, you will join or die and your geene seed will join our cause. Nothing personal battle brother. Just business as usual.

Everyone is welcome as long as they follow Huron's guidelines and don't aggitate the topless sweaty Khorne worshipping Ultramarines in the basement.

Sustainability

Unlike the corrupt Imperium of man and the corpse Emperor our leader is powered by miracles (which is trully a miracle how he survived but that on the next section), and we use 0 psyckers to power our crap.

Our carbon footprint is also minimum as we use salvaged goods and don't indulge in toxic industries that destroy worlds.

The Red Corsair base of operation is in the Eye of Terror and from there we expand our scope. A place greatly known for its constant shifts, and horrible conditions but the tan our serfs have are spectacullar from all that cosmic radiation.

Finally we are commited to recycling. As in we take from our victims benefactors and put those stolen goods to some great use. Nothing goes to waste, neither mortal, nor static object. If something is not nailed on the floor we will take it.

In fact we might take the floor too and the nails used to set it in place.

Nothing goes to waste!

Unmatched Leadership

Last, but certainly not least.

The man.

The myth.

The Legend.

Huron Blackheart.

Aka Lufgt Huron.

Aka what would happen if we gave a compressed Guilliman a daemonic familiar and left him to ferment in a warp storm.

Not only the name is so edgy you might cut yourself by saying it out loud. But also it's complex enough that if you say it quickly three times without twisting your tongue theres is a chance furniture might start levitating.

The man has put his Ultramarine brain to use and amased enough influence and power to put the Black Legion to shame.

Huron went from 0 to 100 in no time, he is a self made Warmaster. With no daddy issues or troubles in the world, he goes into battle blasting Alestorm in the voxxcasters.

He does not care.

He probably wears this when he wants to relax.

You think he cares?

He does not care.

He has a biker gang specifically organized to hunt down those who have betrayed him.

They slap those things on their armors not for the usual biker reason

(which fun fact the meaning is, 99% of the bikers are law-abiding, where the 1% are not. That's where the 1% comes from. The more you know 🌈)

no they wear that 1% because that's how high are your chances of escaping from them are.

Is that a bit extreme?

Yes.

You think he cares?

He does not care.

The dude once gathered his buddies and decided...

to you know. Have a casual outing. Nothing too serious, it was a sunday afteral.

So they decided on.

Kidnapping Guilliman.

Which they almost did if not for a Fallen of all people getting in the way.

But still.

The mad lad took Macragge's Honour and went on a joyride/ mini civil war.

Who in the galaxy can turn and say.

Yeah, I stole Macragge's Honour, almost captured my old Primarch. Told a daemon prince they are irrelevant on my way there. Anyway after crushing a fool who thought he could take my crown as king of the space pirates, I went to the home planet of the White Scars and kidnapped and tortured their Chapter Master. What did you do this week? 💅

Who wouldn't want to be a part of that?

You tell me I can be an immortal, gorgeous chaos Ultramarine goth boy going on pirate adventures across the galaxy?

Where do I sign up?

I don't need ink for a signature.

I will use my own blood.

#warhammer #warhammer 40000 #warhammer 40k #wh40k #shitpost #red corsairs #chaos ultramarines #chaos space marines #games workshop #black library #huron is the chaos ultramarines representation we deserve

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rebee-sweetie · 2 months

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*Slight smut and some fluff*

Bakugo can be such an ass. During the times he does his patrols and hero work he is honest to God, a jackass. Constantly yelling at pedestrians and his friends working along side him. His pride becoming of him. Even though he’s aged and matured in his adult years, not much changed in his mannerisms. Bakugo’s a top Pro Hero but still doesn’t realize kindness isn’t a weakness. But when you are doing hero work with him or doing a patrol he is so much worse. The yelling and degrading is constant. Even though the public knows you’re both in a relationship, it sure as hell doesn’t look like it. In the public eye he’s constantly telling you to,

“Keep up!”

“Ur’ such an damn idiot!”

“Fuck you!”

“DIE!”

The list could continue on. But today you had stepped a little too close to Katsuki and it just set him off. It was like you could see a nuclear bomb go off in this man’s eyes. A large, gloved hand palmed your face and pushed you away. His face seething and eyes burning a dark crimson. Bakugo’s eyebrows were knitted together and his glare was sharp as daggers. You felt like you could choke on the tension in the air as people around you watched the sight unfold. His thick fingers gripped at your rosy cheeks as he chewed your ear off about not paying attention to where you were walking. The chewing became a lecture on how letting your focus wander is an opportunity for a villain to take advantage. That was until Kiri stepped in and scolded him on talking that way to his significant other. But all you could do was smile. Because you knew something everyone else didn’t.

Your Suki was rough and angry on the outside, but he had a huge soft spot for you. When it was just the two of you, he was incredibly sweet and gentle. A side no one but you were allowed to. There were constantly flowers in your apartment sent from Bakugo. He always knew when they were starting to wilt because a new bouquet of flowers would be at your doorstep. The card would always read:

“Only the finest for my prettiest and only sweetheart.”

He knew your favorite flowers, foods, colors, and even childhood memories. When he first laid eyes on you, he knew he wanted you, your body, everything. He was going to have you. He was going to make you his and his alone. He made it his mission to know everything about you. He constantly spoiled you and when you’d casually mention something was cute or nice, you’d see it appear in your apartment quickly after. He loved cuddling you every chance he got, pulling you on top of his chest when laying on his couch. Overtime, he would slowly move you into his home, too prideful to come out and ask you to move in.

So even though you got the same treatment as everyone else in public, you were being treated like a Princess in private. You loved it, and even though he was rough with you when others were watching, there was never a bruise or scratch on you contrary to what some of the media might say. He was an asshole but he wasn’t abusive.

The cuddles were sweet but the kisses from him were even sweeter. His lips and skin like honey to you. He worshiped your body away from the prying eyes of the public. He knew each and every curve like the back of his hand. Sex with Katsuki wasn’t just hot but out of this world. He wasn’t lying about being naturally gifted at everything. His body always seemed to move so perfectly in line with yours and he knew your body in ways even you didn’t. When he was finished with you, you’d see stars. Sometimes he’d get you so good you’d wonder if you had seen God. You became a drug to him that he simply couldn’t get enough of. But in public, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He would rather die than show the world he could be soft. His whole personality was jagged like the callouses and scars that littered his body. You thought that maybe the reason he acted this way is because he was terrified of the idea of having vulnerabilities to the creatures that lured in the dark, waiting, praying for his downfall.

All you knew is that you loved the way he was, and you wanted nothing to change. You were extremely content being loved so passionately in the darkness. Because at the end of the day, that was your man and you were his woman. You even had the markings on your body to prove it.

#bakugo x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x you #slight smut #some fluff #comfort character #pro hero dynamight

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youremyheaven · 9 months

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Fated Love in Astrology

So, every person has a divine partner that they are meant to be with. Your union with your other half (I hesitate to use the world “twin flame” only because of how misconstrued it is in mainstream astrology/spirituality discourse) depends entirely on both of your individual spiritual awakening and commitment to the spiritual path.

In astrology, the 7th house represents marriage, or, as I like to call it “union”. The 7th house, is the 7th house from the 1st house. It is the descendant to your ascendant. It is the shadow to your ego. Whenever we cross paths with an individual whose luminaries fall to our 7th house, it creates a very magnetic & intense attraction. It’s almost inexplicable what you feel for each other.

With that said, this sort of connection is not logical or rational. It defies all norms. The key to recognizing your divine partner is the intense attraction you feel towards them right away. There is no hesitation or second guessing, you’re simply awestruck by them. Nowadays, we all have a very tedious approach to relationships (due to our collective trauma and bad experiences), everybody walks around with a checklist to find someone who will fit their criteria but that is not how Divine Love works. You just know instantly that there is something different about this connection. That is not to say, the nature of the relationship will be easy. Fated connections are never easy and not everyone is meant to find their Divine Partner.

When such a person comes into your life, it usually triggers your ego death; they become responsible for you losing the shell of identity you held close to you. All your fears, your shame, your vulnerability comes to the forefront and you have to confront everything you’ve ever repressed. It leads to a dissolution of self.

In Sufism, there is the concept of “fanaa” which can be translated to “annihilation”. In order to merge oneself with God, it is first necessary to annihilate everything that you consider to be you. It’s important to "to die before one dies". Love & Worship are very closely intertwined. This is exactly what “twin flame” connection feels like. You rid yourself of your ego, you dissolve your sense of “self”. Sounds intense? That’s because it is. It irks me when people talk about twin flames in a casual way because a) not everyone has a twin flame b) this is not a fun experience in any way, shape or form c)This is the least casual of experiences

(I am using the word twin flame here only because it is a term that more people are familiar with, I wanted to speak of the spiritual background of that experience whilst using a term that’s already familiar)

In Jungian psychology, there is the concept of anima/animus, which refer to the unconscious masculine aspect of a woman and the unconscious feminine aspect of a man respectively. One aspect of being a “whole” human being is to integrate these unconscious parts into yourself. This is similar to what a twin experiences, your other half seems to be in the shadow, hidden from your view, crossing paths with them, brings that realization to you and now in order to unite with them, you must first dissolve yourself and merge with that unconscious image of them.

There is a reason why twins “mirror” each other; they are a reflection of you and vice versa. This is why every interaction with them strikes a nerve in you and you feel their absence like a phantom limb.

If you’re on a twin flame journey or would like to know more about it, I suggest immersing yourself in Sufi philosophy. To a lay person, the Sufi concept of Love may seem dramatic and over the top but for those in the know, it will seem deeply familiar, because ultimately your longing and yearning for your “twin” is your innate longing to seek union with God/the Divine. We were all made in pairs and to know the other is to know God and to know God is to know Love.

These connections are presented to you in order for you to ascend. Why were you chosen for ascension over millions of others? That’s the divine plan, not up to us to question. It is entirely possible to meet such a person at a time in your life when you’re completely spiritually unevolved (this is very common) and they usually trigger your dark night of the soul. This leads to positive disintegration although nothing about this experience feels positive in any way, shape or form.

Actually uniting with your twin and sharing a life with them is a long shot. Its often an unrequited love. It requires A LOT of work by both people. There is a lifetime of purging, integration and inner work before union could ever be a possibility. Most people who use the term “twin flame” are using a fancy spiritual label to describe their excessive interest in someone. You don’t have a twin flame, you’re just manic.

In Arabic literature, there are 7 stages to love, it is as follows:

1. Dilkashi or attraction

2. Uns or attachment

3. Mohabbat or love

4. Akidat or reverence

5. Ibadat or worship

6. Junoon or madness

7. Maut or death

If you believe you’re experiencing a twin flame connection, you have probably gone through these stages, maybe not in this order but you’ve probably experienced all of these.

You experience an inexplicable attraction that draws you to them, regardless of how far you stray from them, your heart clings to them & forms a deep attachment, even though you don't seem to understand it, you're consumed by love for them, without even knowing why, this love morphs itself into reverence and soon enough it's eclipsed even that & embedded itself as worship. Your feelings for them are so strong, intense and powerful even in separation, even in their absence that you feel yourself going mad. This madness is key because it brings you to the death of "self". You lose all sense of who you were before you met them. You're ripped of your ego. You die and die and die again, hoping to taste the love that will give life to you.

There are astrological indicators obviously but just because these aspects/placements are present, does not mean they are your twin flame. The biggest indicator is the deep sense of knowing you have in your soul, you don’t even have to know the word “twin flame”, you’re experiencing a magnetic, excruciating and tortuous kind of attraction.

Some indicators:

1. Venus in 12h

2. Venus in Scorpio

3. Primary Scorpio or Taurus placements (the Taurus-Scorpio axis creates the most intense chemistry between two people)

4. Moon conjunct Mars

5. Opposite signs occupying many placements (Virgo-Pisces, Cancer-Capricorn, Gemini-Sagittarius)

5. 7h synastry

6. Bharani nakshatra

Uniting with your twin can trigger your kundalini awakening. It is not for the faint of heart. Union is a very intense experience. Much has been said about twin flames and tantric sex. Imo? What we call Tantric sex is essentially the heightened feeling and intensity of sexual experience that a Tantric practice brings about. (its possible to feel this way with a non-twin if you have a disciplined Tantric practice).

Sex is the source and root of everything. It is the cause of creation and nothing less than divine. Eros is the first god that could be conceived by man, he is the creator of all beings and ruler of the universe. He is son of Chaos, the original primeval emptiness of the universe.

Longing, desire and Eros, all go hand in hand. When your soul has longed for someone for so long, the sheer passion and enormity of desire will make it a very one of a kind experience. Short answer being that sex with your twin will be out of this world and life changing.

In Sufism, there is a concept called baqaa which is subsistence through God. Someone who has experienced fanaa, or annihilation of the ego and self, finds God, unites with him and sees him in everything. This is what love of a “twin flame” nature does. It is all consuming and potent, you cannot walk away from it, even brushing with it briefly, transforms you. It purifies you and strips you of your pride, shame, fears and everything that you thought was “you” but the reward for this is understanding through first hand knowledge, a love so all encompassing, expansive, deep and profound that it forever alters the way you look at the world. You begin to love everything and everyone because you’ve tasted true love and its generosity.

Karmic Partnerships

These are extremely common and almost everyone has one. They need not strictly be romantic. Many non-romantic associations can be karmic. These people to put it very plainly, come into your life, to teach you lessons. They need not explicitly be “bad relationships” but the energy is definitely not light hearted and its absolutely not meant to last a lifetime. You are meant to learn your lessons and move on from them and break the karmic cycle. However there are people who do not do this and stay stuck in the same patterns and perpetuate the same cycles.

Some indicators of Karmic Partnerships in astrology:

1. 12h synastry

2. 8h synastry

3. Saturn aspects

4. Capricorn/Libra placements

Soulmates

These are the most wholesome, fulfilling bonds between two people. Soulmates need not always be romantic. The bond is kind of instant and inexplicable. You just get each other. It feels fulfilling, empowering and light. It fills you up. There is no angst and there’s no chaos.

Some indicators:

1. Moon signs that are compatible with each other

2. Moon aspects that are positive

3. Venus-Ascendant aspects

4. 5h synastry

5. Strong Venus or Jupiter aspects

6. Element compatibility (fire & air vs water & earth)

🧜🏼‍♀️🧜🏼‍♀️🧜🏼‍♀️🧚🏼‍♂️🧚🏼‍♂️🧚🏼‍♂️🦋🦢🦢🦢🦋🧚🏼‍♂️🧚🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♀️🧜🏼‍♀️🧜🏼‍♀️🧜🏼‍♀️🧚🏼‍♀️🧚🏼‍♀️🧚🏼‍♀️🦋🦋🦢🦢🦢🧜🏼‍♀️🧜🏼‍♀️🧜🏼‍♀️

I’m sorry if I sound a little too esoteric on this post 😭😭😭idk how else to talk about this stuff and I tried my best to make it sound as simple as I could 😭I hope this was interesting and if you guys have any questions feel free to ask me💛💛

Further reading:

1. Plato’s Symposium

2. Sufi philosophy and poetry

3. Carl Jung’s works

#soulmates #twin flames #twin flame astrology #twin flame #soul mate connection #astrology #sufism #carl jung #bharani #vedic astrology #astro observations #soulmate indicators

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delusionalwings · 1 year

Text

― synopsis -> when he doesn’t expect to "fall in love", especially with a human

― characters -> lucifer, mammon, leviathan

― gender neutral reader

― headcanons

― warnings -> yandere, toxic behavior, manipulation (luci), obsession and rude behavior (mammon), obsession and camera installed without permission (levi)

― a/n -> i spend way too long on this but it was fuuuuuun

LUCIFER

It would have amused him had the actors in this ridiculous play been different. But he is neither a fool nor a procrastinator so he accepts the fact readily with his usual calmness. It seems that he is interested in you, a mere human, but also Lord Diavolo’s choice for the exchange programme. He needs to play his next move cautiously.

When you become entangled with a nasty rumour, you approach Lucifer. Since the start, he has been the one to provide assistance to you unbidden so he seemed like the best choice. After getting his advice, you ponder the best course of action and carry out the execution. He watches you closely with amusement.

Diavolo praises the way you handle the situation. Lucifer announces indignantly that if anybody messes with you, he will deal with them personally. Everybody believes that you share a special bond with Lucifer because of the additional edge to his speech, the glare and the sadistic promise of pain in his smirk.

It is like Lucifer to kill several birds with one bullet. Now he knows that you are worthy of his thoughts, given your intelligent reaction. You must think a little better of him owing to his help. The others will leave you alone. And he has an excuse to stay closer to you for at least a fortnight. He will stick close and keep testing your competence. It’s no joke that the Avatar of Pride has taken a fancy to you, more so when he expected to never feel this way for anyone.

MAMMON

He knows quite well that his greed is not restricted to materialistic items only. So when he starts obsessing over you, he freaks out dramatically, gambles all his money away, gets beaten up by moneylenders because of his carelessness and when you patch him up and smile, he finally accepts that the human ain’t too bad. Given the bad treatment he had been subjected to, he wasn't expecting to fall in love but then you came along and now you are all that goes through his mind.

He is very non judgmental so he doesn't care that you are a human. However, he thinks that associating with a demon may get you enemies. He tries to distance himself in the beginning but being someone who has difficulty denying his urges, he ends up giving you the special treatment. From the dark.

He thinks of the best gift ideas and executes them flawlessly without revealing his identity. Good fortune seems to follow you these days. The only reason for suspicion is his behavior. He goes overboard with the tsundere act, so that now it feels stifling and hurtful. Every time you get a present from this “secret admirer”, you notice how he acts more supreme and offensive with the “I am the Great Mammon and you are only a puny human”. His bullying reaches an all time high, cutting you deep and scarring you, as the pace of the gifts catch up like a rope tightening around your throat.

LEVIATHAN

Eh? EHH?? No no, this can’t be happening! What is this era of cringe where he feels obsessed with a 3D character?! You must be an anomaly in the system! How can you just come along so casually and shatter his hope of staying single forever? He was quite content with his waifus and husbandos! They don’t expect anything in return and he knew that it was impossible for him to end with them! Life was simple! Oh now he is overthinking and gulping down energy drinks and dreaming about how wonderful you are!

He isn’t really bothered about the mortal part since he has watched enough anime to know that demons fall for humans all the time! Key information about upcoming cosplay conventions keeps slipping from his mind like his sanity! It is the end of Leviachan, OMG he needs to worship the anime gods for mercy.

Now instead of bingeing his favourite anime, he is watching you sleep at 3 in the morning through the cameras he installed in your room without your permission. He can't forgive you. Before your arrival, he was a dedicated albeit a gross, yucky otaku but now he is a normie who is thinking about puke-inducing lovey-dovey stuff like holding hands and going on a date! What a downfall for the Lord of Shadows! You must take responsibility and help him get his passion back. He can’t lose the Levi that has lived till now just because of you. He must have you right in front of his eyes so that he can go back to focusing on anime rather than watching your every move. You make him so unhappy by talking to those other demons. He can’t even sleep at night. You are terrible, you know that? Stay close and he won’t hold a grudge. He will be sweet like all those normies in love with fake promises at the tip of their tongues.

#obey me #yandere #gender neutral reader #gender neutral mc #obey me yandere #forbidden path #male yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere lucifer #yandere leviathan #yandere mammon #x mc #x reader #yandere scenarios #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me mammon

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vespidphoenix · 20 days

Text

Entirely at your service

Tag list: @fanaticsnail @turtletaubwrites @weaversofnulbundin

It's Sanji's turn to stay on the Thousand Sunny while the rest of the Straw Hats explore a new island, so he makes his way up to the crow's nest for his watch. He is pleasantly surprised in more ways than one by what, or rather who, he finds up there.

Notes: NSFW, minors begone, lots of swearing, friends to lovers, porn with feelings, idiots in love, chubby OC, some angst, lots of fluff, praise kink, breast worship, consent really is sexy, inappropriate(?) use of observation haki, etc; word count 6.3k

AN: Baby's first fan fiction! Ya girl can have a little a shameless self-insert, as a treat. I've only seen OPLA and I'm not past the East Blue in the manga/anime yet, but I've done my best to keep everything consistent with canon.

AN 2: I use French as the language of the Celestial Dragons, and both Sanji and Amy are fluent. Most of the time, I'll put the English words in brackets at the end of the paragraph, but there are some recurring phrases that I'll leave untranslated: mère bleue is 'blue mother', as in Mother Ocean; merde is 'shit'; mon amour, chérie, and ma chère are endearments

Chapter One: you are here! | Next chapter: coming soon | Masterlist: coming soon

Edit: read this chapter on ao3!

(Banner courtesy of @cafekitsune)

As soon as the hatch leading to the crow’s nest clangs shut, Sanji sets his snack tray on the floor mats and collapses with a dramatic groan.

“Fuck me raw,” he sighs.

“As appealing as that sounds, that’s gonna have to wait another couple days per Chopper’s advice,” a feminine voice deadpans behind him.

Sanji sits upright with a start, nearly knocking over his water bottle. “Mère bleue!” he exclaims as he turns to face his crew mate; “for some reason I thought you were in the landing party today.”

Amy’s reply is drowned out by the pounding of Sanji’s heart when he blinks and notices just how casually she is dressed. He recognizes her sarong as a recent gift from a grateful cloth merchant—he would stand by the assertion that everything looked good on Nami, the original recipient, but he’d have to agree with her that it suited their crew’s interpreter better—and the crocheted halter top as Amy’s own handiwork. He feels a sudden itch to find out for himself just how soft a yarn she chose for this particular work of art…

For lack of a mirror, Amy could not see what her face looked like; but she imagined that if she could, her eyes would be wide and sparkling with mischief. It’s certainly the feeling she always seems to get whenever she’s face-to-face with the handsome blond before her: a grin pressing at her cheeks to escape through the seam of lips pressed together, eyelids spread as if to take in more of him.

(Sometimes, she reckons she could spread other parts of herself for that purpose, if she thought him willing to put his money where his mouth always seems to go.)

“I’m not complaining, mind you,” she continues to say, “but this is the third—no, fourth time in a row!”

Sanji gulps and shakes the slightly-glazed expression from his face. “I’m sorry, can you say that again? I was…distracted by your beauty.” He winks one piercing blue eye, and skepticism be damned, she feels heat creeping over her body and pooling between her legs.

Amy rolls her eyes and fidgets with her sarong in lieu of making a snarky comment about blindfolds.

“As I was saying while you were ogling me, I was going to be one of the landing party, but Nami insisted on having Usopp join her in mapping the island because my handwriting is so much better than his, so I should be the one to help you with inventory. She’s not wrong, per se, but this is the third or fourth time in a row this has happened, and part of me wants to call bullshit.”

“Part of you? What about the rest of you?” Sanji asks, resolutely fixing his gaze on Amy’s eyes instead of letting it drift to her bust or the soft rolls of her exposed torso.

This time it’s Amy’s turn to deliver a blush-inducing wink. “The rest of me is simply happy to be spending time with you.”

“Well, lucky for us, sweetheart, I took the liberty of doing inventory earlier this morning so that Miss Nami would have a grocery list,” Sanji replies after taking a deep breath, “so I am…entirely at your service.”

Entirely at your service. The words tickle Amy as she takes in Sanji’s shirtless form, supine once more and sporting that megawatt grin. As her gaze trickles down from his abs to those steel-hard thighs, she can’t even bring herself to be annoyed by how smug he looks; Mother Ocean knows how handsome he knows he is, how hard he’s worked to earn those well-toned—

“Have I rendered you speechless, mademoiselle?”

Sanji’s voice, sultry and teasing, interrupts her train of thought.

Entirely at your service.

Sanji knows he’s close to some sort of victory when Amy’s face flushes even more deeply and she still doesn’t answer right away. There’s something uniquely thrilling about fencing with words and looks the way Mosshead trains with Wado Ichimonji—maneuvering, testing, anticipating, parrying, scoring—and he reckons it has to do with the way both parties win something if one goes about it correctly.

He watches and sits up as Amy walks around to his front before she settles next to the tray of snacks. His heart thumps harder in his chest the same way that foolish thing does every time they’re in such close proximity, not quite touching but close enough that he wouldn’t even need to fully extend his arm were he to caress her cheek—

“You don’t need to sit up on my account, handsome. Maybe I’ll take you up on your offer later, but right now maybe I’ll serve you some—how does that sound?” Amy plucks a single grape from the cluster and holds it above his mouth.

Maybe I’ll serve you some.

It’s not often Sanji allows himself to contemplate what he might do with such an offer. As a child, he’d served in order to live; as an adolescent and now as an adult, he lives to serve. But sometimes it occurs to him that letting someone serve him instead can itself be an act of…well…service.

(It will take some time before he allows himself even to think the word ‘love’ in place of ‘service’, and longer still before he allows himself to speak it; but it’s there, waiting like a daffodil bulb in early March for safe conditions to bloom.)

There will be time for Sanji to unpack all of this later, when a beautiful woman is not offering him a grape that looks as sweet and delicious as the person holding it, looking at him with the inviting heat of an onsen—or perhaps it is the sort of hunger that no amount of grapes can quench but he might be able to satisfy anyway.

All Blue forbid he keep a lady waiting. He lowers himself back onto the floor mats and opens his mouth.

“Good boy,” Amy teases in her best attempt at a sultry purr, frowning when Sanji gives her a strange look and shifts uncomfortably instead of rolling his eyes. “Sorry, does my femme fatale impression need work? Too over-the-top, not campy enough, too demeaning?”

“No, that was—no, no, you’re fine,” he replies, suddenly a little breathless. “How about that grape?”

If Amy notices the hunger filling both his mind and his gym shorts, she mercifully does not comment on it.

There’s a look in Sanji’s eyes that, if she didn’t know better, Amy might call naked desire, and the idea renders her dizzy with want, or it could be dehydration—she’s not sure, not in this weather. She drops the grape in Sanji’s waiting mouth, pats his jaw, and gets up to let a breeze in through a window.

She can hear the slight frown in Sanji’s voice when he calls, “Are you alright, darling? Can I get you something to drink? I think I saw a fountain somewhere…”

“You’re not beating the waiter allegations from Zoro anytime soon, are you?” Amy chuckles, the cooler air having relieved her flustered state.

“He can call me a scullion for all I care; it’s a small price to pay to see you satisfied.” The chef curses under his breath; there are no spare cups up here, so sharing his canteen will have to suffice. He brings it to Amy with an apologetic smile.

She takes a sip and smiles gratefully, and allows her eyes once again to wander over Sanji’s chiseled body. “I have a tall glass of water to drink from, and that’s a good place to start.”

Sanji draws a sudden breath and runs a hand through his hair. “Keep talking like that, and we might not get to finish the snacks I brought up.”

A wicked grin spreads over Amy’s face, and Sanji knows he’s fallen into his own trap.

“How about I help you finish your snack, and you help me finish mine?”

He groans and tilts his head back, and the creeping heat that became smoldering want is stoked into flame by the huskiness of his voice, by the way his neck seems further exposed, there for the kissing—

“Say the word, Amy, and all of it is yours.”

Amy merely smiles. She steps past him, hooking an arm around the far side of his waist as she goes; when he spins around to face her once again, she tugs on the hand suddenly holding hers.

“You gonna have a seat or what?” she asks, nodding toward the tray.

A moment’s hesitation, and Sanji steps forward into the gap between them.

“Are you gonna call me a good boy if I do?” he asks almost under his breath, just above a whisper.

They’re standing so, so close together now, Sanji is sure Amy can feel his breath on her forehead and the place where his shorts are almost too tight to contain him—because she might have called him a tall glass of water, but to him her eyes are Dressrosi kahlua, and he is so drunk on her gaze he would confess to a lot more than his longings, just for another shot.

“I can call you anything you like,” she breathes, “when I am entirely at your service.”

Their lips meet now in a kiss that, for all the repartee and flirtation that preceded it, is gentle and unhurried, a moment to be savored. After a few moments they pull apart, all smiles, long enough for Sanji to remark:

“I’m pretty sure that’s supposed to be my line.”

The pair dissolve into giggles and quick pecks as Sanji finally lays himself down beside the snacks.

To his left, recumbent and supporting herself on one arm, Amy realizes her mistake and gestures to the tray. "Would you mind passing me those?" she asks.

"I thought you were supposed to be serving me," he replied with a mock pout and still-twinkling eyes.

"I was always taught it was impolite to reach directly across someone's personal space." Amy raises an eyebrow, still looking amused.

Gently, tentatively, as if reaching out to pet a cat, Sanji places his left hand on the small of her back. The hitch in Amy's breath at his touch and the way her eyes widen send a tingling sensation down his spine, straight to his groin. He flashes her the most charming smile he can muster.

"Chérie, in case I haven't made it clear, I want you in my personal space; and unless I am reading you wrong, in which case I apologize sincerely..." He begins to remove his hand.

"No, no, keep doing that—"

(Amy almost doesn't recognize that plaintive voice as her own, but the way his broad palm spread across her back and the soothing way he moved his thumb in little circles have seared themselves into her mind like an addiction.)

Sanji, that smug, sexy bastard, grins and does as he is told.

“…if I am not mistaken, you want me in your personal space, too.”

Amy is speechless for a moment with an embarrassment she can’t quite explain, but she knows exactly how to get back at Sanji. With his hand back in its place holding her, she smiles sweetly and says:

“Thank you…”

—she moves not only to reach across him for the food, but also to straddle him entirely, which she is sure was his plan to begin with; but then she leans her head close to his, and her smile turns impish—

“…or should I say ‘good boy’?”

Pulling her waist closer with one hand and pushing himself up from the floor with the other arm, Sanji kisses Amy again, trailing along her jawline with an unmistakable urgency.

“Mon amour,” he pleads, “laisse-moi te montrer ce que tu m’inspires…” [Let me show you what you inspire in me...]

“Ho-hold on, lover boy,” Amy gasps, giving the smallest yelp when his hand squeezes a plush asscheek and presses her body against his hardness. “Don’t forget what you came here to do. We don’t—fuck—we don’t waste food.” She pushes against Sanji’s chest and hopes he can see the sympathetic reluctance in her face.

He whimpers. Sanji whimpers, and the sound of it is almost enough to break her resolve; but she knows that if he loved anything in the world more than women, it would be food alone. She presses her forehead to his and a gentle kiss to his nose.

“We don’t waste food.”

If Sanji didn’t know better, he’d think he was dreaming. If he’s dreaming, then woe betide the person who wakes him up, he thinks.

The afternoon sun backlights Amy’s head like a halo, and the breeze through the window causes her brown hair to flutter like a curtain or a sacred veil. Sanji thanks whatever deities are listening—for surely the vision above him is divine in source as well as appearance—for every person before him who fumbled their chance at the privilege that is now his. Hell if he knows what a rejected-princeling-turned-pirate-cook could possibly offer that is worthy of a goddess like this; but he would devote himself to her, be her high priest, beg her to take him as her throne—anything for the heaven in her embrace, if she would only let him.

We don’t waste food.

The reminder nudges Sanji out of his angst, and he grins. “Let’s have those snacks, then, before we get carried away and fill up on something else.”

He gives Amy one more kiss on her lips, chaste yet searing, and lets her go.

The absence of his hand on her waist feels like a loss, until she sits back to reach for the grapes and feels something pressing below her tailbone. She exchanges a knowing smile with the man pinned beneath her, handsome as a demigod.

“You know, if we share those snacks, they’ll be gone faster,” he muses, before dropping his voice even lower. “Then you and I can have our ways with each other.”

“Someone’s eager.” Amy winks and picks up a piece of bruschetta.

“Eager to please you, eager to serve you, eager to feel you in the throes of bliss—yes, I am eager, and you deserve an eager lover, Amy.”

Amy looks stunned. Sanji gestures to the bread slice in her hand.

“Mind telling me how that bruschetta tastes?” he asks. “I used a different combination of cheese and seasoning since we couldn’t find any mozzarella in the last port.”

You deserve an eager lover.

Amy knows this to be true, knows that a lack of sex is better than mediocre sex; but knowing is one thing, and hearing a would-be lover echo the sentiment is another. Not only that: Sanji says it with such conviction, as if pleading with her to believe it too. It's refreshing. Arousing.

So...maybe she leans forward a bit more than necessary when she brings a morsel to Sanji's waiting mouth, and delights in the way his noises of appreciation seem to be as much for the heft of her breasts as for the acidic tang of the diced tomatoes. Maybe she grinds her bottom on his clothed cock just a little when she reaches for another handful of grapes, and smiles with the knowledge that his moaning isn't only for the bursts of sweetness on his tongue. Maybe she is uncommonly thorough when licking the sticky tangerine juice off his fingers.

Entirely at your service.

Maybe I’ll serve you some.

Swimming as their heads are with heady lust, it takes Sanji and Amy by surprise when they find the snack tray empty. They stare at it in silence for a long moment, before—

“Should I, uh—”

“That went more—”

“No, sorry, you go—”

“You go—”

Sanji sits up, laughing, and Amy kneels in front of him, head cocked to one side.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any condoms on you, or know whether Zoro keeps any up here?” Amy asks quietly.

“Hm? I think Mosshead keeps all his in his belt thing; Franky’s shooting blanks and exclusive with Miss Robin, so they don’t need any—”

“Wait, how does Franky know…”

“Apparently the Surgeon of Death also does vasectomies from time to time—wish I’d thought of that the last time we ran into them.”

“Damn. But do you have any?” Amy asks, leaning closer and poking him gently.

Sanji sighs deeply. “Don’t got any rubbers on me, but I keep some in the bunk room…”

“Hmmm, mais je ne peux plus attendre.” With her left hand on his right cheek, Amy pulls Sanji in for a lingering kiss. “J’ai besoin de toi maintenant.” [but I can't wait anymore; I need you now]

“Fuck, Amy,” Sanji groans between hungry, open-mouthed kisses, “how’m I supposed to resist you when you talk to me all sweet like that?” He slides a hand just above the waist of her sarong for emphasis, and cautiously slips a couple fingertips between fabric and skin.

Amy allows her fingernails to lightly scrape his skin as her free hand finds his spine; the hand already on his face threads through his hair. “You’re not supposed to resist me,” she murmurs into his jawline as she pulls his head back to expose his neck. “You’re supposed to forget about that snack tray, forget about our crewmates”—she places a cluster of kisses along his neck—“and enjoy some time alone with your lover—”

Your lover. The words send shivers coursing over Sanji’s skin.

“—just…enjoy yourself for a while.” She looks up at him through half-lidded eyes and allows one hand to drift down to his waistband.

“Well, when you put it like that—merde, ça me sens bien—let me at least put a towel down for us?” Sanji reluctantly extracts himself from Amy, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand when he catches a pout on her lovely face. [that feels good]

“Make it quick, mon amour…vraiment, j’ai besoin de toi…” [truly, I need you]

Sanji pulls a couple towels from a nearby rack, drapes the larger one so that it flows from the bottom step onto the floor, and sets the smaller one beside it. Approaching Amy, he holds a hand out to her with the air of a gentleman at a ball asking a lady to dance. She takes it and pulls herself up to stand in front of him.

“We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” she asks with an adoring smile.

Sanji cups her face in both of his hands and looks her in the eyes. “We can stop at any time and it won’t cause problems between us, y’know that, right? I want this to be enjoyable for both of us.”

Amy lets her eyes flick down to Sanji’s parted lips before meeting his gaze. “What would really be enjoyable right now is you kissing me…”

“So needy,” he teases, but obliges Amy anyway.

“‘Needy’? The love cook calls me ‘needy’?” she replies with mock outrage. “You’re the one who tricked me into straddling you and got so horny over a simple pet name that you reverted to Celestial!”

Sanji gives her a mischievous smile and another peck. “You stepped into the trap very willingly, though, didn’t you?” Another kiss, lingering a moment, and he adds: “And I know for a fact you loved it when I switched languages.”

“Quoi d’autre peux-tu faire avec ta langue, hmm?” Amy whispers against Sanji’s lips. [What else can you do with your tongue]

“S’il te plaît, chérie,” he whispers in kind, his fingers dancing lightly along one arm as he lifts it to his shoulder, “je peux te démontrer…” [If it please you, I can demonstrate]

Suddenly he bends down, and with a grunt he lifts Amy by her thighs, one on either side of his waist. He sets her down on the towel.

No sooner does Sanji let go of her legs than Amy is on him, gripping his face with both hands and kissing him voraciously.

“That’s so—ungh—so fucking hot, Sanji,” she moans. “Fuck, you’re strong.”

“You’re not that heavy, are you?” Sanji manages to say between kisses—not that he’s complaining. “Ten stone, twelve?”

“Fourteen last I checked,” Amy murmurs into his chin. “You’re so good at what you do, I’m always hungry for more.”

Sanji chuckles at her double entendre. “Fourteen’s nothin’, long as I let my legs do the work.”

“Definitely the sexiest legs I’ve ever seen.” Amy sucks lightly at the base of Sanji’s neck, and almost erases his train of thought completely.

“Merde—since your own, of course, right?” He places his hands on her knees and ever-so-slowly moves them upward.

“Mmm, naturally,” Amy murmurs, more interested in Sanji’s collarbone.

“Are you even listening right now?” Sanji asks, grinning with amusement as he pulls away. He laughs when Amy makes a whining noise and chases him with her lips.

“Your tongue is doing way too much talking, lover boy. Starting to think maybe you’re all talk.”

Sanji narrows his eyes.

Before Amy has time even to discern anything from his smile, Sanji’s gripping the back of her head in one hand and nudging her mouth open with his tongue. His other hand slides higher along her thighs, tantalizingly close to where she suddenly realizes she needs his touch the most. She moans into Sanji’s hungry mouth, the noise sounding more like a whimper than she would have liked to admit were she clear-minded; but her senses are consumed with him, and she can’t bring herself to care. His appreciative groans are like held notes on a saxophone; he smells of musky cologne and sweat in a way that registers as the essence of virility in the back of her mind; he electrifies her skin with the slightest contact; she can taste fruit and spice on his tongue, and—

“Sanj, there’s something metal in your mouth, is that a piercing or…?”

Amy leans back to peer into Sanji’s grinning mouth, and sure enough, the frenulum is pierced with a horseshoe bar.

She puts her arms around his neck and pulls him close again. “You know, I’d heard you described as having a silver tongue,” she teases, her lips a hair’s breadth from his, “but I didn’t think Nami and Usopp were being serious.”

Sanji kisses her again, delicate and sweet like a meringue. “It’s surgical steel, love, but I appreciate the sentiment.” He chuckles and Amy rolls her eyes fondly.

“Now, why don’t we go back to your talent show?” she suggests.

“A show, hmm? I’ve never tried exhibitionism, but we can talk kinks later, sure.”

“You know what I meant!” Amy laughs, giving Sanji’s shoulder a playful backhand.

“Oh, yes, that’s right: the talent show in which I”—Sanji places one more kiss on Amy’s smiling mouth—“pleasure this lovely lady”—he whispers before kissing behind her ear and sliding his hands to the laces of her top—“with my tongue until she”—loosens the knot holding the halter-neck in place and nips an exposed shoulder, prompting her to buck against him—“begs me to make her cum on my face.” He presses his face into her cleavage, and looks up to gauge her expression. “That one?”

Amy combs a hand through Sanji’s corn-silk hair, pushing it back from his forehead, and gasps with something like awe marbled with need. His lust-darkened eyes peering up at her from between her breasts might be the most erotic thing she’s ever seen.

Entirely at your service.

You deserve an eager lover.

“Oh, Sanji…” she sighs and leans back against the bench. “Please, yes, I need it…

“…do I get to serve you after?”

The question is so airy and quiet that Sanji almost doesn’t catch it, occupied as he is with the scent of Amy’s perfume and the solemn task of unbuttoning her from the other side. “What’s that, darling?”

Amy holds his face between her hands and pets his flushed cheeks with her thumbs. “Do I get to return the favor once you’ve made good on those wonderful things you said you want to do to me?”

“You may not need to. I’m pretty, ah, worked up right now—might be that I’ll follow you over the edge when you cum for me.” Sanji kisses her palm and, taking hold of her hand, guides it along the faint trail of hair leading to where he needs her touch the most.

Amy wants to press the question further, but contents herself with pressing her hand to the bulge in Sanji’s shorts. She gasps in wonder at his size and the needy cry that pours from his lips.

“Let’s find out for sure, shall we?” She turns her back to Sanji and lifts her hair out of the way.

Seating himself on the bench beside Amy, Sanji can reach the buttons just fine, but he welcomes the chance to lavish her neck with a flurry of kisses. He smiles against her skin at her giggling, and thinks of how quickly the sound is becoming one of his favorites.

Amy’s breath, already shaking, hitches when she feels her top come loose, and again when Sanji sucks lightly on the skin joining her neck to her shoulders.

“Sanji, please…”

“Shhh, darling, I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs as his hands snake over the bare skin of her waist to cover hers in the front. “Your body is so soft, so beautiful. I love it.

“Can…can I just…feel it for a moment first? Explore it, admire it for a bit before I ravish you?” Sanji continues, tracing with his fingers the places that had previously been covered.

“Just as long as your body stays on mine.” Amy sighs dreamily and leans against him, eyes closed, happy to let him fill her senses once again.

There has, historically, been precious little in Sanji’s life that could be described as soft or tender. Such is a hard-working life at sea, to say nothing of what came before his stint on the Orbit; even on such a well-appointed ship as the Thousand Sunny, piracy is piracy, and the oceans swallow the weak. So when something comes Sanji’s way that could be construed as even the vaguest promise of devotion, he has learned to seize it, to enjoy it while he can, before the Blue Mother’s waves inevitably carry it out of reach.

He does not seize Amy, for she is not a pipe dream or a fantasy: she is substantial, in multiple senses of the word, generous in the warm plushness of her body and likewise in the beauty of her soul. He paces himself, like a man who has known starvation followed by plenty; though he does have to take a steadying breath when she sets aside the bralette and turns toward him, now bare-chested. One hand goes to her heartbeat, one to her shoulder, trailing downward and leaving a tingling heat in its wake.

“I want to figure you out, chérie, before I take you apart,” Sanji rasps in Amy’s ear as he engages his haki.

Amy has a hunch she’s in for some of the best sex of her life. Not that she has a great deal of first-hand experience for the love cook to exceed—men did not often stay in her life long enough for attraction to develop—but even if Sanji is as much of a serial womanizer as Nami and Zoro make him out to be, he has already proven attentive and empathetic enough to be above average. It’s not his skill she’s worried about—

The casual flick of a thumb across a now-stiffened nipple jolts Amy back into the moment with a squeal.

“Fuck, Sanji, that feels so good, do it again…”

He obliges, of course he does, and pleasure like an electric shock goes straight to her cunt, suddenly flooded with slick. She arches her back, leaning forward into his touch; and he must have heard the needy impatience in her wordless moan, because he pulls her flush with him and nibbles her ear.

“Où d’autre, where else do you need me?” Sanji murmurs. “J’ai besoin de te plaîre…” [Where else; I need to please you]

Where doesn’t she need him? Amy wonders. “Everywhere, babe, jus’—fuck—everywhere. My neck, my hands, my tits, need you inside, everywhere.”

Sanji’s face lights up like he’s received the best news of his life, and he kisses her again.

“As my lady commands.”

As he nibbles at her ear and her neck, Amy can’t resist rolling her hips against him, flush as she is with his hardened abdomen and his cock, and spirits it feels so good—

“Amy, my love,” Sanji pleads, “I don’t want to cum yet, let me do this for you—”

“But Sanji…”

“Amy. Don’t you want me to keep my promise to you?”

He stands and pulls her up as well, and continues: “Don’t you want to find out what my tongue can do? I should think you wouldn’t want the talent show to end so early.”

“Your fingers untying my skirt are giving me a mixed signal,” Amy mutters, though her fingers digging out the knots belie the annoyance in her words.

“I’m going to have you lay back for me, darling,” Sanji says as he folds the sarong, “and I want to have a cushion for your beautiful head.” He holds the garment out to her, and he’s looking at her with such tenderness that she feels something clench in her chest. “Your comfort matters to me.”

“And you feeling good matters to me.”

“Tell you what,” Sanji offers as his hands push gently on Amy’s hips, encouraging her to sit. “I get to taste every part of you, and you get to shower me in praise and ‘good boys’ to your heart’s content. How does that sound?”

“And then I get to play with your cock?” she asks, pouting slightly but positioning herself on the towel nevertheless.

Sanji makes a choked gasp. “Merde, yes, then you can play with my cock.”

“Sounds good to me.” Amy leans back and watches as he hems her in, elbows on either side of her shoulders, powerful legs astride her own.

Sanji takes a deep breath and considers what he learns from his haki. Amy shudders almost imperceptibly with each heaving breath; her eyes, wide and dark, dart between his eyes, his lips, his chest, and occasionally his groin. Her back is arched just enough to not have the steps’ wooden lip pressing into her, or perhaps she means to draw his attention back to her sizeable breasts; and her knees are turned outward, as though readying her legs to cage his lower torso close to her own. She smells of jasmine, sweat, and the spiced tang of arousal, so much arousal.

He can’t wait to taste her. With no dissonance of thought or feeling in her aura to give him pause, the tasting begins.

He starts, quite naturally, with her mouth: lips that capture his sight whenever she has occasion to wear lipstick, staining his fantasies a pomegranate red; gasps and moans that spill from her like an overturned glass of sparkling wine; the lingering taste of sweet words and peppery olive oil on a tongue seeking out its counterpart to pull him closer. When the cruel need for oxygen forces them to pull apart, Sanji and his own clever tongue find the sensitive spot just behind Amy’s ear that he knows will make her nerves sing—

“SANJI, oh gods!” she cries, sure enough—

“Amy, chérie, would you be very offended if I were to leave a souvenir on your skin?” Sanji asks in a husky voice while he has her ear. “A mark of my passion, so to speak?”

Amy does not answer right away and her frenzied groping stills, but her embrace remains steady, which soothes his unease. She’s considering it, Sanji reminds himself.

Finally, she caresses his cheek, and he takes the chance to kiss her inner wrist. “Put them in places that can be covered with ease,” she replies decisively. “Whatever…this is”—for the first time since he found her in the crow’s nest Sanji hears a note of apprehension in her voice—“it’s our treasure, and I’d like to enjoy it that way for a bit before making it known to anyone else.

“We may be Straw Hats, but we are still pirates,” Amy continues with a smile returning to her face. “I think we’re allowed to be a little cagey about our hidden treasure.”

Whatever this is. Our hidden treasure. When he looks back on this afternoon, with Amy’s words hanging in the air between them, this won’t be the moment Sanji falls in love, much less when he recognizes his heart as belonging entirely to her; but something does shift in him, a moment he will later describe as Amy beginning to take root in his soul.

In the meantime, Sanji’s cock is twitching at the prospect of marking this woman as his, and again with the thrill of keeping a secret. “Such an angel,” he groans into her neck, “such a privilege just to touch you.”

Such a dangerous business, this whole falling-in-love thing, Amy thinks to herself. No, she’s not in love, not with one of the most notorious flirts on the Grand Line, even if he does look like he belongs on a magazine cover instead of a pirate vessel. Even if she isn’t merely imagining the heartbroken look on his face at the words ‘whatever this is’. Even if he is the most caring lover she’s ever had—because that’s just the thing: he does love generously, he loves in defiance of the sire he left behind, he loves and he loves and it would be selfish of her to want some part of it to be hers alone, wouldn’t it? No, she’s not in love with Sanji, but the cliff’s edge is right there, and the call of the void is strong.

“Chérie, have I lost you again? Is everything alright?”

Sanji’s handsome, smiling face is hovering above her chest again. Amy runs her fingers through his hair—he closes his eyes and hums at the sensation—and tucks it behind his ear.

“I was just…distracted by your beauty.” She smiles and winks.

“Using my own lines on me, are you?” Sanji growls in mock annoyance.

“What?! I’m just learning from the best.”

“Flatterer.”

“Clearly flattery works, or else you wouldn’t be straddling a mostly-naked woman right now.” Amy begins to drag one foot along Sanji’s leg for emphasis.

In lieu of an answer, he shudders and trails a finger along the side of one breast, which he lifts toward his mouth. While Amy lets her head fall back against the improvised cushion, he mouths at one pebbled areola with relish and strokes the other with a firm thumb, basking in her babbled praises over the next several minutes.

“That feels so, so good, darling, so good…

“Gods, your tongue is incredible—yes, just like that!”

“Oh, fuck—could let you do just this to me for hours…”

…and Sanji thinks, feeling the way she bucks and tenses under his caresses, he’d be willing to do it, too, his own erection be damned, if he didn’t think muscle cramps on his part would put a damper on her pleasure. If nothing else happens between him and Amy, he could at least go for months touching himself just to this memory.

Mercifully, the sound of a soft chuckle interrupts Sanji’s anxious thoughts before they have a chance to spiral. He leaves off the sucking motion of his tongue and looks into Amy’s half-lidded eyes. “Chérie?” he inquires tentatively.

She again combs his hair back with her fingers, still smiling. “It just struck me as funny, the way you looked like a boy licking his first ice cream cone of the summer.”

Sanji stares a moment before spluttering with indignation. “And what is a man supposed to look like as he is worshiping at his lady’s breasts?”

Unfortunately, this serves only to make the lady in question laugh harder, albeit with fondness, and touch her forehead to his.

“I don’t know, I don’t know! It felt so good, but when I opened my eyes, there you were, swirling your tongue like you were afraid of letting your mint chocolate chip melt—”

“Melt?!” Sanji echoes, still playfully indignant. “Oh, I’ll make you melt—”

—to which end he pushes Amy back down and renews his ministrations with a vengeance, licking and sucking and nipping the sensitive buds, and tickling her sides. His hands slide lower and lower along her hips until he’s teasing the skin just above her panties; and when she makes no move to bat his hand away, he dips two fingers into the heat of her folds.

Amy never knew sex could be so fun.

Well, no, that’s not quite true; she’s long known, in an intellectual sort of way, that feeling safe and relaxed emotionally is conducive to both having fun and to having good sex. But the wisdom gleaned from others feels like an understatement compared to the euphoria and the anticipation suffusing her right now.

“You—” she pants, smiling, “you’re as good as your word, ah-aren’t you?”

Sanji releases a reddened nipple with a lewd smack. “And you, love, have been melting for a while already, haven’t you?” He runs a finger along her slit, grinning wickedly at her wetness.

“Oh fuck, Sanji, keep—keep doing that…”

“Tell me, Amy, is all of this for me?” Sanji all but purrs. Her pussy clenches at the sight of him licking her slick off of his hand and she whimpers.

A whimper is not enough for him: his fingers tease her clit, dancing around but never touching it. He flicks a nipple with his tongue. “I need words, ma chère…” he says.

Amy does not have words, though. There is nothing in Amy’s world save her body, and Sanji’s touch, and pure sensation.

“Answer me,” Sanji insists in a rumbled voice; and when he hears no answer but more wordless whimpering, he bites on Amy’s nipple and strokes her clit at the same time.

“Fuck! SANJI!” she screams, mustering the last two words in her brain as her world turns from pure sensation to white-hot ecstasy.

Likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated, especially if somehow I fucked up post formatting or my French grammar LOL

#one piece #one piece live action #black leg sanji #one piece fanfiction #one piece oc #oc: Amy Lovejoy #sanji smut #sanji x oc #oc x canon #one piece smut #my fictional husband #my ocs #my fanfiction

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imrllytootiredforthis · 1 year

Note

BROOO STOPPP 🐟 ANON QITH THE BRIGHT IDEAS I WAS HAVING A BAD DAY BUT THAT LITTLE YANDERE FELIX STORY BROUGHT ME BACK TO LIFEEEE i feel like most of the yandere stories i come across are the ones where he’s crazy possessive i saw one fic one time where the idol had y/n kidnapped and under house arrest until she learned to “behave” and not try to escape like ummm…🗿

but that sweet little yandere felix where he’s just obsessed with you and utterly in love. maybe stalking is ok if it’s fefe like he just has to know all your preferences so he can appeal to you the most before any other guy comes along and tries to take you away from him :((( and then he can casually bring up some of your interests under the guise of having them in common with you (when in reality he’s memorized your schedules, where you go to eat, shop, your hobbies, likes and dislikes, favorite things, etc etc) also he would definitely keep a secret notebook to keep track of things about you like a list of everything you like and hate. & on his phone he’d definitely have a hidden album with thousands of candids of you he’s taken secretly whether it’s of you out in public when he’s “watching over you from afar to make sure you’re safe” or pictures at home, pictures of you sleeping, or in the shower or getting changed bc he saves pictures like that for nights he steals your panties

and he’s just so in love with you he’d let you do absolutely ANYTJING to him. ruin him, dress him up all pretty, put him on a leash and drag him around the apartment like a pet (omg yes making him kneel in front of you on the couch like a good kitty for hours while you do other things and he waits so patiently bc he’d do anything to make you happy), tie him up, and his faveee: treating him all softly and lovingly, whispering praising to him, telling him that he’s the only one for you, stroking his hair and body softly while he cums the hardest he’s ever came:(( poor baby just can’t take you doing something so dirty while being so sweet to him and the fact that it’s YOU of all people making him feel that way makes his head all hazy

in conclusion: felix the sweetest yandere sub he just wants to be with you for life and doesn’t want anyone to take you away from him!!!

-🎀

no because one of the reasons i love sub!yandere so much is because i'm not really into the whole kidnapping and controlling and domineering type thing,

with sub lixie it's definitely straight up obsession, wanting to be anything and everything to please you, doing whatever you want-his only goal is to make you happy.

he learns everything he can about you and memorizes it, commits your favourite flower to memory-he knows if you're allergic, he knows if you think roses are overrated, he knows which one you like and what makes you love them so much, whether it be a memory or the way it smells or if you simply like the way it looks.

he knows all of your interests and tries his very best to get into them so that he can talk to you about them<3, suggesting you go out together to do them or if you could teach him more to get better so he can spend more time with you

he knows all your favourite places, he'll buy you plane tickets and plan a whole vacation for you to go on together-coincidently in your favourite city or somewhere you've been wanting to go to for a long time.

date nights are the best because he knows just what you like, the chocolates you one mentioned that you loved, the restaurant that you had said you wanted to try but was too expensive, the movie you said made you happy and the one scene in it that you'd gushed about how it was the most romantic thing you'd ever seen.

baby gets off to whatever you want him to, as long as you're enjoying it he is. so needy and desperate that every touch is something he worships, each kiss is with a kind of passion and love that like it's your last

he's more than willing to get down on his knees and worship everything that is you, treating it like it's a privilege to even be around you

degrading him and humiliating him is nothing, step on him and call him a dirty little perv, dress him up in the panties that he's stolen from you and the tiniest little skirts, take pictures and spit on him and drag him around in a leash in collar. he loves every second, taking it all without a peep (other than moans and whimpers for more).

anything and everything and he'll take and take with no complaint, still looking at you with a kind of admiration as if you were the one that hung the stars in the sky

praising he loves so, so, so, so, so much tho<33. soft touches and even softer words, calling him pretty and adorable and your sweet little kitty, he feels his heart fluttering and cock throbbing and is a million percent sure in that moment that this is the thing he was made for,

to please and make you happy, to adore and love you, to see that sly smile on your face and receive your gentle kisses as you call him yours-only yours-the possessiveness in your tone, the way a dark glint that enters your eyes when you tell him that no one else will ever have him like you do,

god it drives him insane, it makes every other thing go away because all that really matters is you and he needs nothing else in this world except for you and to see you so adamant that he is yours makes him know that you feel the same way

#inbox💌#sub!yandere #sub yandere #lee felix x reader #felix x reader #lee felix smut #felix smut #yandere felix #sub stray kids #sub skz #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #hard thoughts #stray kids hard thoughts

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makeyoumine69 · 1 year

Text

Yours to Claim

◥ PAIRING: Sub!Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader; Sugar Daddy!Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

◥ SUMMARY: To prove his trust in you, Patrick has decided to give you absolute control over him. Only to find out how needy he can be.

◥ WARNINGS: NSFW │porn with feelings, handcuffs, oral (both receiving), face sitting, anal fingering, body worship, cum eating/play, handjobs, masturbation, teasing, edging (kinda), vaginal sex, reversed cowgirl sex position, a lot of creampie, nipple play/tits sucking, Daddy kink, Praise kink, dirty talk, pet names, touch starved baby Patty himself.

◥ WORDCOUNT: 3.3k

◥ SONG REC: Trevor Something - Lovesong🥵

◥ A/N: This song is everything, it makes things to me, so I highly recommend you listen to this song while reading! Many thanks to my dear @tres-spades-hotel for proofreading! 🥰

Hope you like it! *hugs*

◥ LINKS: [Sweet like a Cupcake Masterlist] [Main Masterlist]

A sweet scent of aroma candle hit your nose once you entered Patrick’s bedroom, it was enveloping you like a mist, and you couldn’t help but exclaim:

“Can’t believe you are using them.” You kept looking at the candle on his bed table. “I thought you didn’t like my gift … you always don’t.”

Bateman only chuckled, strolling around his bedroom. Soon, you watched him stand near the window as he was definitely reflecting on something. Now, you were pretty sure that his weird behavior was not just your suspicion.

“I really love it, these candles seem to have a relaxing effect,” he smirked, in his casual arrogant way, so sexy and so Patrick. “Cupcake, I have something for you too.”

After saying that, he quickly reached into his bed table and took out two pairs of black leather handcuffs. From seeing them, your heart almost stopped beating.

“W-what are you going to do with that?”

His mysterious laughing only made you even more nervous. “It’s not for you, silly. It’s for me.”

Frowning, you gave him a confused look, stepping backwards slightly.

“Do you remember our talk about trust and control?” Bateman muttered, coming closer with a cocky grin on his face.

“Yes, I do.”

“Good.” Still sneering, Patrick stood face to face with you, fumbling with the handcuffs in his hands. “You probably can’t trust me after all the things that happened.” He pressed a palm against your cheek, and you closed your eyes from the delightful feeling of the warmth his skin was radiating. “And it’s reasonable … but I trust you, because I believe you won’t do me any harm. Am I right, honey?”

You nearly purred from the pleasant sensation as he stroked your chin and you nuzzled against his gentle fingers. “Mmm, yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl,” Bateman mused before leaning down to leave a passionate kiss on your lips, impelling you to whimper against his mouth as his wet tongue was sliding against yours. “Never in my life have I allowed anyone to do this to me. I want you to know that … besides, you always wanted to have some control over me, huh?”

“Why do you think so?” Panting, you let him press you against his firm body and when he did so, you immediately felt how hard he was, so stony, damn it. “Maybe it’s one of your sneaky tricks?”

“Uh, Cupcake … sometimes you love to struggle, right? You love to be a brat.”

You didn’t even notice being pressed against the doorway to his bedroom; his dark brown eyes were looking right through you, as if they were searching for your hidden, dirty desires. “Now, do you need my help to undress?”

With a cunning smirk, you glided a finger across his sharp cheekbone, crooning: “No, Daddy … if this time I’m in charge here, I want to watch you undressing first.”

Some kind of a muffled groan escaped Patrick’s lips, which were suddenly dry from a high level of arousal. “Mmm, you’re such a tricky little foxy. I like that.”

Breathing sharply, Bateman licked your lips and moved away to his bed as he started to undo his clothes. The way he was doing it was permeated with a pure arrogance and self-confidence, which was not surprising at all, because his body was just a piece of art.

Mesmerized, you watched him remove his suspenders, and unbutton his blue shirt, not breaking eye contact with you. You gasped, as your ravenous gaze was roaming all around his solid torso, his perfect relief was forcing your blood to rush faster in your veins.

“You like that?” He suddenly asked, slowly removing his pants. Obviously, he was expecting your praises.

“Yes, Patrick.” You bit your lower lip, your hands were clutching the thin fabric of your dress. “Can’t wait to touch you, Daddy …”

"Mmm," he growled, and oh God, he sounded so good, so hot. You almost started shaking when you heard him make that noise. When he was down to his Calvin Klein boxers, he sat on the edge of his bed and beckoned you over. "Maybe you can help me with this?" Bateman pointed at his underwear, cupping his groin and rubbing his rock hard dick.

“Maybe,” you gasped and finally moved to his bed. “But first, let me put your suit somewhere safe, I don’t want to listen to your rants about spoiling your expensive clothes.”

Patrick froze in a shock, a pleasant shock, as he watched you take his suit and walk into his living room. He didn't say anything, so you just put his clothes on the back of his white couch, panting heavily and trying your best to calm down - your heart was beating so fast it was probably going to break your chest. You couldn't really believe it was happening … and the thing that frightened you the most was that the feeling of being in control of him turned you on so much. Closing your eyes for a moment, you admitted that helping him with his clothes was an excuse to run away from the bedroom to catch your breath.

"Baby?" His slightly annoyed voice brought you back to reality, so you quickly took off your dress, leaving only the sexy black lingerie he bought you a few days ago.

“I was busy undressing myself.” With a shaky voice, you leaned against the doorway, admiring the view of his muscular body. “Are you sure you want me to do this?”

“Yes, dear.” He tapped the place next to him. “I’m yours to claim.”

Was he actually bluffing to cloud your mind? You couldn’t think about it anyway, as you stepped in his direction, spellbound.

With a slight push, you forced him to lay flat on his back before you got on top of him, petting his tiddies here and there, making his breath heavier. Nervously, you grabbed the handcuffs and insisted:

"Put your hands up, Patty.” You watched him obey and in response you moved your hips, grinding against the arching bulge in his boxers, coaxing a low gasp to fall from his kissable lips. “Mmm-D-Daddy, you’re so needy, I can feel it…”

“Yes, Cupcake.” He tensed under your touch when you cuffed his hands above his head – he certainly didn’t feel comfortable not being in control, because it was making him so vulnerable. But Bateman tried his best to hide it. “You think that’s tight enough?”

“I’m sure.” You cupped his beautiful face and teased him as you drew near to his lips in order to kiss him. At the very last second, you broke away, not giving him a chance. “Keep your legs together.”

Though the handcuffs looked durable you doubted that they would stop him if he got really savage, according to how strong he was. When you finished cuffing him, you looked into his eyes, watching his lips tick – he definitely wanted to say something, something mocking or triggering, but he didn’t.

“Look at you, Daddy.” You slid your palms against his bare chest down to his abs, and then you finally touched his engorged cock, massaging it ever so lightly. “So exposed and cute … mmm–you want me to remove them, right?”

“Ahrgh-yeah.”

It seemed like he was about to crest his high at any second, as you felt his dick twitching in your grasp and you couldn't stop yourself from bowing down to his groin to suck his long shaft through the expensive fabric of his boxers.

“C’mon, pull them down already.”

“Not so fast, Patrick.” You smiled at him, giving his cock a long lick and when you heard him moaning louder, you decided to spare his torments, slowly dragging down his underwear to free his fully erected dick. “Gosh, it’s so big … mmm.” there was no way to resist as you got down and took his leaking tip inside your mouth, swallowing his sweet pre-cum with the whimper of pleasure.

“F-fuck.” He started to fidget around his perfect white sheets whilst his cheeks became notably flushed. “C-Cupcake…”

“You taste so delicious, Daddy…” you mewled before cupping his ass to shove his cock deep inside your throat, that set him completely on fire, his balls tensed intensively so you had to stop your ravenous attack. You didn’t want him to cum yet. “Mmhm-does it feel good?”

Huffing, he nuzzled against the pillows to brush away his already sweated locks. “Too good, baby… go on.”

“Uh, uh,” you refused and teased him again, rubbing against his glistening dick, making your lingerie so wet with the mix of liquids and spreading it along his pubis. “You have no say in that, Daddy …” You continued to roll your hips against his manhood, not pushing too hard, and bent down to his face to help him with his messy hair. As you did so, Patrick tried to reach your lips to plant a kiss on them, but you pulled away and pressed a finger to his mouth, which he obediently took in, sucking it and tasting himself.

Shit, this was turning you on so much, you didn't even realize you were about to fall over the edge, just watching him desperately suckle your finger with his eyes closed and his brows knit together from tension.

"Ahh, you look beautiful when you're so needy," you mused from above as you took your finger out and removed your bra. When you pulled down your panties, Bateman couldn't take his eyes off your dripping pussy as his mouth began to water uncontrollably.

"Let me taste you," he huffed, watching you touch yourself with light strokes. "I'm going to make you feel so good, b-baby." His voice wavered with a carnal urge to touch you, he wanted to tear you apart right here, but now he could only submit, it was his idea after all. "Cupcake, please ... sit on my face."

"Mmm, Daddy, you want this?" You raised yourself up a little to give him a better view of your blushing cunt as you spread your legs wider and rubbed your clit to taunt him even more. "Maybe you just want to watch me touch myself? You always love that ..."

"Jesus." Patrick slumped his head down on the pillow as he couldn't just look at you anymore, his stony cock jerking constantly, especially when you 'accidentally' brushed against it. "Baby, I'm so f-f-fucking close ..."

“I k-know, Daddy.”

“Mmm-hmm, please!”

"Please what?" you repeated, shaking with the impending rapture as you continued to stroke your sensitive little nub, slipping along his thick shaft and watching him writhe beneath you. "Do you want me to make you cum or ... do you w-want to have a taste of me?"

Bateman let out a guttural sound from the friction of your soaked pussy sliding against his beefy shaft. "I ... I want both ..."

"Choose one, Daddy ... and ask me nicely." You gave him the illusion of a choice, but in your mind you already had a plan for what you were going to do next.

"I ... I beg you, mm-ahhg, holy fuck!" He almost screamed as you sat backwards so he could now see your tight hot pussy right in front of his eyes as you sucked his throbbing cock really vigorously and played with his heavy sac.

Almost choking, Patrick tried to get closer to your cunt to at least lick your folds, but as soon as you felt his hot breath, you distanced from him, setting the pace of your bobbing and stroking his full length with both hands, while your juices were almost dropping down on his face.

That was too much, even for a man like him.

“F-fuck…aahh-fuck, (Y/N)!” Bateman was moaning shamelessly, withering around his big bed as if he was lying on burning coals.

“Mmhm,” you wailed around his fat girth, making obscene wet sounds each time his cock was slipping inside your mouth but once you felt him shaking, you quickly pulled his dick out and knelt beside him, letting him cum all over his perfect stomach. “Yes, Daddy … mm-gimme your cum.” You spurred him to tremble even more as you pushed two fingers into his tight asshole, massaging his prostate and prolonging his vivid orgasm.

“S-shit …” He hissed, still quivering and loading his hot seed to the last drop.

“Good boy,” you whispered and caressed his face, leaning down to smear his cum around his brawny torso, licking it off from your digits and closing your eyes in delight. “Gosh … It’s so tasty.”

With that said, you grinded against his pubis once more to get covered with his warm fluid before you lifted yourself up a bit and towered over his extremely blushing face. Patrick was breathing so hard that you even started to worry, but when he opened his hazel eyes and saw your pretty little pussy, he gave you a look full of desperation and need that left you almost speechless.

Arching your back, you lowered yourself a little and let his extremely wet tongue brush against your very sensitive clit - you moaned immediately, almost falling on his face, but you managed to balance yourself, controlling the distance between your pussy and his greedy mouth.

“Cupcake,” Bateman murmured and made a few little kitten licks along your folds. “Fuck, I will make you cum so hard, you will drown my face in your sweet flavor … if you let me.”

Damn, he was always saying the right words, which were driving you crazy. Moaning, you slowly straddled his gorgeous face and as soon your hips hugged his head, Patrick latched to your cunt like a starving man as he was literally devouring you like his life was dependent on it.

“Aa-aww, Patrick, mmm-I’m about to cum, aahh!” You squeaked, clinging to the ledge in the wall over his bed. “Yes, yes … eat my pussy like a good D-daddy you are, aah …”

These candles didn’t just have a soothing effect, but an aphrodisiac one as well; you couldn’t control your body as your mind was completely dazed. The only thing that was important right now – his heated tongue fucking you from below.

Your climax washed over you like a fucking tsunami, forcing your toes to curl almost painfully as your whole body rocked erratically, but it only caused him to slurp at your cunt even more eagerly, Patrick was shaking his head to rub his nose against your pulsating, swollen tip.

"Mmm-mhh, Pat-" You froze in a silent shriek, squeezing his head between your legs and rubbing against his face to prolong your fierce orgasm, fearing you might even break his nose if your humping became too intense.

But Bateman only moaned against your lower lips, drinking in all of your delicious wetness, clinging to your pussy so tightly you thought he wouldn't ever let you go.

Nearly sobbing, you got up from his abused face, leaving him completely breathless but satisfied, as Patrick couldn't stop smiling smugly, looking at you from under his eyelashes … God, his completely dazed look nearly made you cum again.

Sudden exhaustion hit you hard, but you wanted to continue this spicy game as you didn't know when you would have another chance to control this delicious man.

“Uh, Jesus …” Bateman muffled, fidgeting beneath you from uncomfortableness. “I think I can do it forever, your luscious pussy tastes so amazing.”

You just grinned in response, bending down to his face and pressing him against your boobs, rubbing them against him. Almost immediately Patrick started to wiggle his head, trying to catch one of your taut nipples, but you didn't let him as you watched him stretch his neck as far as it would go.

“My pussy was not enough? Such a starved, needy boy.”

“I’ll never get enough of you, baby.” He licked his lips briefly, his eyes were fixated on your hard peaks, and his chin was so fucking sleek, it was literally glistering like it was oiled. “Never …”

"Oh, is that so?" You let him take one of your nipples and he moaned in pleasure, sucking it like a baby, causing your throat to tighten with a loud whimper.

“Mmm, yes …” He was literally wild, consuming your hot flesh with a squelching sound and making your legs shake again. Panting, you turn around to wrap your hand around his already hard cock, and it seemed like he hadn't cum at all.

"You want me to fuck you, Daddy? So you can cream my little hole?" You provoked him by pulling away from his face.

Tightening his hands, Patrick pulled desperately at the handcuffs, but he was already too tired to wrestle, so he just pushed his hips up against yours, making his answer pretty clear. "Do whatever you want with me, Cupcake."

His voice was all that mattered to you at that moment as you suddenly pressed your lips to his, feeling the cocktail of different liquids on them and kissing him harder than you had planned, but he answered with no less effort. And then you stuck out your tongue, and without a word, Bateman took it into his mouth and sucked it obediently.

"You're such a good Daddy, so good." You stroked his cheek before turning around and bending over so he could see your pretty butt and pussy. "You always take good care of me ... and now I'm going to take care of you."

Grinning, you looked at him from behind, his thick dick buried in your overstimulated womb. Fuck, his was so big, every time you had sex you had to adjust to its size, but today you couldn't wait to embrace the feeling of being so full. So you took him as far as you could, spreading your legs to give him a proper look at how your feverish pussy struggled to encircle his beefy girth.

“Aaah, Daddy … mmm, it feels so good!”

“Mmm, fuck … oh shit, babe, your pussy clenching around me so tightly, aah-fuck,” Patrick moaned even louder than you, watching his dick slipping in and out of your moist cunt with wet shameless sounds as you were bounsing on his hips, with your back to his face.

The friction was too intense. You doubted you could last long, even without stimulating your clit, just hearing his loud whimpers was enough to make your next orgasm settle in your womb. Mewling, you had to bend over and hold on to his ankles for support as you rode him really hard, almost rough, not to mention his thrusting firm hips that he couldn't use at full power since he was cuffed, but he couldn't just lie still.

"Ahh, Pat-Patrick ... I love the sounds you are making! Moan louder!" you blurted out, feeling yourself almost numb and fucking him deeper; you could feel every vein on his huge cock twitching in ecstasy.

"(Y/N), you will be ... the fucking death of me, oh GOD." He wanted to slap your ass, he wanted to squeeze your fucking neck and make you choke, but instead he was watching you bob up and down on his creamy cock. "Mmmhm-fuck, yes ... encase my dick with your pussy, fuck yes ..."

Those were the last words you heard as you pressed against the spot between his spread legs, shaking so badly you couldn't even utter a sound, your saliva running down your chin as your inner walls continued to spasm. With all the strength you had left, you continued to impale yourself on his cock, and the next second you felt him pumping you with his hot cum, making you so fucking full that it even poured out of your pussy and floated down his dick and his used balls.

A white veil soon covered your vision and you couldn't even remember if you had released Patrick or not, along with the things that happened next, as a feeling of total insanity took all your thoughts away. It consumed you like a tornado, leaving nothing but the nasty sounds of your bodies slapping against each other and your pitiful high-pitched cries as you seemed to accept your fate and let the beast tear you apart.

There could be no mercy, when it came to Patrick Bateman.

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader

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cherrycola27 · 8 months

Text

false god

Series Warnings: Mythology!AU. Language, alcohol, drinking. Military inaccuracies. Mutual pining, unrequited love. Allusions to and eventual smut. Minors DNI. 18+. Individual chapter warnings will come as needed. Banner Credit @thedroneranger

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Chapter 8: Daydreams

You were giddy when you went to bed that night. Bradley had given you the best birthday you had ever had, and he told you that he has feelings for you and he wanted to take you on a date. An actual date!

You couldn't believe it. If this was a dream, you didn't want to wake up from it. Bradley had changed your life so much in seven months, and it got you thinking about what Minthe had said to you. Maybe you should try to complete your quest. But you weren't sure what it was. That was the tricky part. You had tried and done so much.

You had battled with it for so long that you accepted that you would live on Earth for eternity, but now, even that wasn't true.

Now, you weren't even sure you wanted to be a fully powerful Goddess again. You should want that— right? You should want to be immortal and powerful and worshipped, but—but it didn't sound as appealing as it did so long ago.

If your powers were restored, you'd have to go back to Olympus. You'd have to go back to the people who didn't want you there.

You would have to leave Earth.

You would have to leave Bradley

You didn't know if you could do that now. Before Bradley, you had no reason to stay on Earth, but now, could you live an eternity without him?

You could see a future with him. A life, a house on the beach, a marriage, kids, growing old together. It was a beautiful picture painted in your mind.

But that was the tricky thing about being a God. You couldn't love a mortal, not for long anyway. And you certainly couldn't marry one. If you wanted Bradley to be your forever, you'd have to give up your powers. You'd no longer be able to protect him from certain death, but you would be free of the burdens that you carried for so long.

You shook your head. You were getting ahead of yourself. Bradley had asked you on a date, not proposed.

You went to bed with your thoughts swimming.

The next morning, you were excited when you woke up. Bradley said he would pick you up at six, which meant he'd be at your door no later than five forty-five because he was notoriously early to everything.

That still gave you several hours to get ready.

You did a few chores around your house to kill some time. You watch some TV with Cerby and Hydra and read a chapter in your book.

Eventually, you couldn't take the anticipation any longer, so at two o'clock, you went to your room and flung open your closet doors. You had texted Bradley asking what to wear, and he said something casual, but what did casual mean? This was a date, so you couldn't just show up in any old thing. You riffled through your hangers, looking at garment after garment, trying on outfit after outfit before settling on a powder blue sundress with a square neckline and ruffled straps.

It was casual but cute enough for a date. You figured it would pair nicely with whatever Hawiian shirt Bradley inevitably showed up in.

You decided on some white sandals and a woven bag to go with your dress. After a shower where you shaved, exfoliated, and scrubbed everything, you sat down at your vanity to apply some simple makeup. Bradley had seen you at both extremes when it came to what you were wearing on your face.

He'd seen your punk rock glam, your everyday makeup, and your bare face. You decided that today called for a winged eye liner, a neutral eyeshadow, a dash of mascara, and of course, a pop of red on your lips. You chose a bright red with blue undertones that popped with your dress.

After setting your face, you dried your hair and went over it with your curling iron to add a few beachy waves throughout it before pulling it into a high ponytail.

After confirming you were happy with your hair, you grabbed the bottle of your favorite Jo Malone, "Scarlett Poppy" perfume and spritzed your neck and wrists. You packed your purse and pulled your phone off the charger. It was half past five. Bradley would be here any minute.

You took a seat on your couch and nervously tapped your foot. Why were you so nervous? This was Bradley.

A few moments later, you jumped off your couch when you heard the familiar rap of his knuckles on your door. You sprinted across your living room to open it but paused and took a deep breath before turning the knob.

"Hi, Bradley." You smiled as you opened the door to greet him. You sucked in a breath because you almost didn't recognize him.

He was standing before you with a dozen sunflowers in his hand. But what shocked you the most was his attire. Instead of his usual unbuttoned Hawiian shirt and white t-shirt combo, Bradley was wearing a sky blue polo with a subtle floral print. He'd also traded his light washed jeans for a darker, nicer pair.

"Hey, Angel, you look amazing." He complimented you as you stepped out of the doorway to let him in. The scent of bourbon, tobacco, and sandalwood from his colonge filled your nose as he walked by you.

"You don't look so bad yourself." You told him. "Bradley, you brought me flowers yesterday. Why did you bring more today?" You asked him as you too the bouquet from his hands.

"Those were birthday flowers. These are date flowers." He told you. You shook your head as you pulled out a vase for them.

"They are beautiful. Thank you." You told him. "You're welcome." He replied. "Ready to go?"

You shook your head enthusiastically before both of you stepped out and you locked the door behind you.

Just like he had from the beginning, Bradley opened the door to his Bronco for you and helped you in. But this time, he pulled the setbelt across your lap and buckled you in. "Date privileges." He said when you gave him a questioning look.

You had asked him where you were going, but he didn't tell you. Instead, he threw on a new playlist for the drive.

Twenty minutes later, he was pulling into Shell and Sun, a waterfront bistro that you had seen in passing but never been to.

After parking, Bradley jogged around the front of the car and opened your door, and helped you out. Bradley hesitantly placed his hand on the small of your back as the two of you walked towards the entrance. He was afraid that you would think he was being too forward, but you didn't shy away from him.

He quickly gave his name to the hostess at the entrance, and she led the two of you to a table near some picture windows.

"I know being in water isn't your thing, but I hope this is fine." Bradley said as you sat down to look over the menu.

"This is perfect." You assure him.

He smiles at you over the top of his menu before encouraging you to order whatever you want.

The waiter comes to take your drink order as you look over the menu. Everything sounds delicious, but you settle on some braised short ribs with fingerling potatoes and broccoli. Bradley orders a steak with roasted vegetables and and baked potato.

Throughout dinner, he asks you more about your life, your family, your career.

You tell him the well practiced lie of growing up in the piedmont of North Carolina and how your father was a lawyer and your mother a teacher. You tell him that they took a trip to visit family in Greece during your first year at the Naval Academy and never made it back home.

You also tell him about some of your favorite places that you've been stationed. His eyes light up when you say that Oceana is your favorite.

"I'm from Virginia. I grew up right near the base and graduated from UVA!" Bradley tells you excitedly.

"You didn't go to the Academy?" You ask him.

"No, there was this thing with Maverick—its a long story." Bradley shakes his head. "What about Captain Mitchell?" You continue. "Mav flew with my Dad. He was the pilot when my Dad had his accident. After that, my mom never wanted me to fly. She made Maverick promise that he would do everything he could to keep it from happening. So, he pulled my papers for the Academy. We had a falling out after that. He was my godfather and the last family I had left, and I pushed him away. We are better now, though." Bradley tells you.

"Well, I'm glad you are." You tell him.

The two of you fill in more gaps for each other, and you can't believe how easy it is for you to talk to Bradley. He gushes about his mom, and it makes your heart ache. You'd met her, and if you had your full powers and life was different, you'd be able to take Bradley to see her and his father, but you couldn't.

You were too busy thinking about that to hear what Bradley had just asked you.

"What?" You ask him. He chuckles. "I said, 'Angel, don't take this the wrong way, but it never occurred to me, I don't know how old you are.' It doesn't matter, but I'm curious." Bradley says.

"Oh." You say a bit startled.

You can't tell him your real age

"I'm thirty-one now." You tell him. That seems believable. "How old are you?" You ask him.

"I'm thirty-five." He tells you. "Not too much of a difference in age." He says.

If only he knew

At the end of dinner, Bradley swipes the bill before you even have a chance to look at it. You glare at him and arge that you were more than capable of paying for your meal. He fires back that this is a date, he is a gentleman, and his mother raised him better than that.

After dinner, you expect to go back home. You were surprised when Bradley pulled into the parking lot for the boardwalk amusement park.

"What are we doing here?" You asked him.

"We are going ride some rides, eat some junk food, and I am going to absolutely destroy you at skiball and air hockey in the arcade." Bradley said.

You threw your head back, laughing. "You're on." You said to him as you hopped out of the vehicle.

Bradley convinced you to rider a roller coaster and the drop tower with him before you dragged him to the bumper cars and had way too much fun terrorizing him. After a lap on the spinning cups, he got both of you some lemonade before pulling you into the arcade. He was quickly humbled when you beat his score at skiball and air hockey, and the other arcade games the two of you played. He did, however, narrowly beat you at Dance, Dance Revolution.

The two of you were laughing so hard when you exited the arcade and walked along the old wooden path.

Bradley wiped his palms on his jeans before tentatively slipping his hand into yours. You paused for a moment, caught off guard. He tried to pull away, but you grinned at him before lacing your fingers together tighter, laughing at the way his cheeks turned pink when he asked you if it was okay for him to hold your hand.

You walked along the midway and watched some people play games. You stopped dead in your tracks when you saw the cutest stuffed shark with little aviator sunglasses at a ball toss game.

"See something you want?" Bradley asked you as he followed your gaze. "Sharks are my favorite animal." You told him as you nodded to the prize.

"But these games are impossible to win." You say as you gesture to the stand.

"I played baseball in college. You want the shark. I'll get you the shark." Bradley said as he walked both of you up to it.

He quickly paid the attendant who told him the rules of the game. Three balls in the bucket won a prize. He then set five baseballs in front of Bradley. He tossed the first one in with ease.

The second one followed behind, and you got your hopes up. Unfortunately, the third and fourth balls bounced out.

Bradley took a deep breath before tossing the final one and it dropped into the bucket perfectly.

"We have a winner!" The attendant announced as Bradley told them what prize you wanted. He quickly handed over the stuffed shark, and you jumped up on your tiptoes to hug him and peck his cheek.

"I'm going to call him Fin-ley," you declared as the two of you walked hand in hand to the ferris wheel. "Why Fin-ley?" He asked you.

"Fin, because sharks have fins, and Ley, like Bradley." You tell him as if it is the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh." Bradley says, not sure how to respond.

He smiled and squeezed your hand and pulled you closer to him. You curled up against his side and buried your face in the soft material of his shirt. While you thought it was sweet that he'd worn something nicer for your date, you missed his usual attire.

Soon, the two of you were seated close together as the ferris wheel climbed higher and higher. It stopped when the two of you reached the very top. You had the most breathtaking view of the city and the ocean.

By the time you were back on land, the sun was setting.

You and Bradley made your way down the pier to the beach and kicked off your shoes before trekking along the sand. Both of you paused at the edge of the water and enjoyed the feeling of the waves washing over your toes.

The sunset was especially beautiful today, painting the sky in hues of orange, yellow, red, and pink. It's a view that you would never get tired of seeing.

"It's so beautiful." You told Bradley. "Yeah, it sure is." He replied. Only Bradley was watching the sunset. He was watching you and the way you were captivated with the sinking sun with childlike wonder. He was watching the way the last few rays cast a golden halo around you and how the salt air caught the wisps of your hair and ruffled the hem of your dress.

He loved how the warm of it turned your cheeks the perfect rosy shade to match your lipstick. Bradley couldn't help himself, so he took out his phone and snapped a picture of you, with your back to him, staring at the sunset like it was the most magical thing in the world. And maybe it was.

Bradley had always wondered what his place in the world was supposed to be. He thought that it was up in the sky, but maybe, just maybe, it was supposed to be right here, with you, the sea, and the sand.

As the rays faded, you gladly took Bradley's hand and let him lead you back to the Bronco to go home.

..............

Tonight had truly felt like something out of a movie or one of your wildest dreams. Dating wasn't something you did often because it ended in heartbreak for you. You could never fully give yourself to that person, or they only wanted one thing from you, and that's not who you were.

But Bradley—oh sweet Bradley was different. He had treated you with so much respect tonight. He never made you feel uncomfortable or pressured. He was so patient with you.

Now, as the night was coming to a close, his fingers were threaded with yours as you walked down the hall. You chuckled to yourself, as you thought back to earlier in the evening, and how pink his cheeks had been when he asked you if he could hold your hand on the boardwalk. He was so tentative when he took your smaller hand in his, but now he had a firm grip. His silent way of saying he was never going to let you go.

And you didn't want him to

You came to a stop in front of your door. You turned to face him, and he had the biggest smile. "Do you—do you want to come in?" You asked him sheepishly. Bradley wanted to come in. He wanted to sit on our couch and pull you in his lap and kiss you until you were begging him for more. But he couldn't do that. Not tonight.

"I do, but I can't. Not tonight. Not yet." He told you. As tucked a stray piece of your hair behind your ear. You slumped down against your door, but you understood what he was saying. You had both agreed to take this slow.

"Okay." You replied with a small smile. "Okay." He breathed out as he placed one of his large palms on the door above you. He looked down the hall to make sure no one else was around. It was late. Everyone else was probably in bed.

"It's just us out here." Bradley stated. "No prying eyes or loud crowds to interrupt us. No Jake to remind us about cake." He said. "Yeah. You're right." You said. You hoped this conversation was going where you thought it was going.

"So— I was hoping that maybe—I could—we could—" Bradley hesitated as his eyes flicked from yours down to your lips and back up again.

"Angel, can I kiss you?" He asked in the most polite tone ever.

"Yes." You breathed out just as he brought his lips down to meet yours. His free hand grabbed your waist and pulled you closer to him while you brought yours to his neck to hold him there.

Bradley brought his other hand off the door and tangled it in your hair as his tongue swept over your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to deepen the kiss. You gladly granted him it as you slotted your mouth against his.

This kiss was everything that you had hoped it would be. Bradley's lips were soft and firm and fit perfectly against yours. He tasted faintly of the lemonade and cotton candy the two of you had shared earlier that evening

You gasped as he squeezed your hip and pulled you closer to him. You were flush against his chest now, and his presence overwhelmed your senses. All you could think, smell, and feel was Bradley. He clouded your mind in the best way.

You were vaugly aware of his hardness pressing into you, and you wonder if he knew how turned on you were from this too.

You didn't want to stop kissing him. You wanted to make out with him in the hallway all night like a lovesick teenager because it was that good.

He pushed one of his thick thighs between your legs. You moaned into his mouth as the denim of his jeans caught the flimsy lace of the panties you were wearing and dragged them over your sensitive clit.

You ground yourself down on him as you continue to kiss him. You pulled your lips away from his and kissed along his jaw and nipped at his earlobe before he brought your mouth back to his.

You were sure that there was going to be a wet spot on his jeans from how turned on you were, and if he kept this up, you were going to cum right here in the hallway.

But you didn't care

His kiss sent a spark through you. The kind that almost made you want to believe in soulmates.

Almost

But sooner than you would have liked, Bradley pulled away from you.

He pressed his forehead against yours as the two of you panted in an attempt to catch your breath. Both of you were wearing goofy grins as you took in each other's swollen lips and ruddy cheeks.

Bradley smiled at you and kissed you one more time. "Goodnight, Angel." He said as he pulled himself away from you. "Goodnight, Bradley." You smiled at him.

You ran into your bedroom and squealed as you jumped onto your bed.

You couldn't believe that you had kissed Bradley. You also couldn't believe how incredibly turned on you were.

Your mind wandered to the bottom right drawer of your nightstand and how to relieve the sche between your thighs. But before you did, a wicked thought crossed your mind. You slipped into your bathroom and pulled your dress off, tossing it into the hamper.

You then grabbed your phone and posed in front of your full-length mirror and snapped a picture of the baby blue lingerie set that you had worn just in case.

You quickly found Bradley's contact and sent him the pictures along with the caption of "You should have come in." You locked your phone and headed back into your bedroom.

Bradley wasn't sure what he was expecting when he heard his phone chime and saw that it was a notification from you.

He had just come out of an extremely cold shower after your heated session in the hallway. He kept replaying the sounds you made for him over and over in his mind, and he was as hard as a rock under the white towel he had tied around his waist.

When he unlocked his phone, he thought that it was probably a good night text from you. He certainly wasn't expecting a picture of you, clad only in a lacy blue bra and panties with a red lipstick smirk on your face as your free hand cupped your breast.

He quickly read the caption, and now he regrets his decision of not accepting your invitation to come in. Bradley bit his knuckle before deciding that two could play at this game.

He stepped in front of his mirror and wrapped his hand around the band of his towel, and snapped a picture. He quickly sent it to you.

When you opened the phone, you audibly gasped at the sight of Bradley, still damp from the shower in nothing but his dog tags and a white towel. He had captioned the photo with "Next time I will."

You grabbed your vibrator from the drawer and laid back on your pillows. You carefully positioned it over your thigh tattoos before taking a picture and sending it back to Bradley.

When your next text notification came in, Bradley hastily opened his phone.

A low groan sounded from his chest when he saw what you had sent him.

It was a picture of you on your bed, legs spread. You had a navy blue vibrator resting on your thigh over your tattoos and one hand over your panties. You sent it with the caption. "Take off the towel. Coward."

Bradley chuckled to himself before before doing just that. He slipped off the towel and gathered it to where it was just covering his erection. He cupped himself and the white fabric in his hands before taking another photo and sending it to you along with the message, "I'll take off mine if you take off yours."

Several minutes passed after Bradley sent that last message, and you hadn't replied. He was worried that he had taken it too far. He was just about to call you when another text from you came through.

"Go check your front door."

Bradley was a little taken a back, but he slipped on some grey sweat pants that hung low on his hips before going to see what was waiting for him.

He opened the door, half expecting you to be there, but you weren't. He looked down the hallway and didn't see you or anything, but when he looked down, there was a surprise on his doorknob.

There, dangling from the smooth silver handle, was a pair of baby blue lace panties. And not just any panties, the exact ones you had been wearing in the photos you sent him.

Bradley quickly checked to make sure no one was in the hall before he snatched them off and slammed the door.

He darted back into his bedroom and ran his fingers over the delicate lace. They were soaked in your sweetness. Bradley brought them to his nose and inhaled your intoxicating aroma. He grew impossibly harder at the fact that he was the one who got you this worked up.

He wondered if you knew just how much you affected him.

Bradley brought his free hand down to his crotch and stroked himself a few times. Then, before his brain could catch up with him, he wrapped your panties around himself and fisted his cock tightly.

A while later, as you were coming down from hour high and tucking your vibrator away, your phone chimed with a message from Bradley.

You couldn't wait to open it. You were hoping he had enjoyed the little surprise you had left for him. And when you saw the picture, you realized just how much he had.

There, on your screen was a picture of Bradley fisting his cock with your panties wrapped around it, covered in his cum. You moaned at the image and found yourself getting flushed all over again.

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vasito-de-leche · 4 months

Note

okay I read your analysis on Forget Me Not and I'm in tears now thank you. (No but really thank you, it's such a touching piece.) Can you PLEASE for salvation of our fans souls write anything to like,,, give him hope? Forget Me Not x reader but it doesn't have to be actually all-out with hugs and kisses. We may,,,,,,,, just show him a new hobby? Any hobby of your choosing or idk play an instrument together. Just to give him something else to focus on, to channel at least part of his energy from self-destructive activities to something less hurtful. I'd personally like to bandage his (not actually wounded but still) hands as if they were bleeding. Something of the kind. Sorry for mistakes writing is incredibly inconvenient cuz tears aaa.

;R1999 FORGET ME NOT - "hands, fingers, scales"

Forget Me Not x Reader. 2.3k words. self-harm implied You've befriended Forget Me Not the same one befriends a rabid, beaten, old dog. And while he's much too busy fighting his inner demons, you're more worried about stopping these "pernicious habits" of his. A casual afternoon trying to make sure he's taking care of himself turns into something deeper.

thank you so much for the ask, nonnie!!

I got a little carried away with this request because thinking about how fucking insufferable and confusing FMN has to be just to indulge in HAND HOLDING and GETTING A FUCKING HOBBY made me so deranged and feral as if hes not fucking TOUCHSTARVED lmfao. this guy's love language is straight up worshipping, mf is not subtle about it

either way, hope you like it! here's the lil preview!

Sometimes, Forget Me Not understands the reason men and women kneel at the pew to worship and pray.

Devotion is something arcanists and humans share, whether honest or not. He's witnessed the rich and the poor, the pure and the depraved, and every binary that rules this world - all of them begging, pleading and praying at the end of their lives, casting away the pride they've held on for so long for the chance of salvation. Once stripped down to their core, there is nothing to do but hope God has enough love in His heart to look their way.

And sometimes, Forget Me Not prays that you’ll find someone else - anyone but him - to fill the role of devotee.

The gentleness in your eyes whenever you look at him is enough to bring him to his knees, and Forget Me Not doesn't know what to do with himself but to worship and pray. Praying that you'll continue to look at him for a little longer, silently begging for your attention until you finally tire of him. Do you think yourself holy enough to replace the vitriol in his veins?

He does.

On good days, he even hopes that you can save him.

You never asked him to become your one and only believer, of course. You're not even aware of the space you take in his mind, nor the conflicting images he keeps conjuring of you at night, he's certain of this. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here, holding his hands and inspecting them for any injuries. This role is one of the many self-imposed tragedies in his life.

Your thumbs knead and massage his palm, as if you could soothe the pain away, and yet you refrain from pressing down hard. He's at your mercy, why hesitate? What do you see that he cannot?

Something is bothering you. It's obvious in the way you touch him, like you're afraid of hurting him, as if you were the one with a body count between the two. Every so often, your movements come to a halt and you both sit in silence, until you return to your ministrations, filling the nothingness with your sighing and humming.

All he needs is to look up, right at your face, to know everything he wants to know - but he's too much of a coward for that. Instead, light grey eyes follow your index finger as it slides under the cuffs of his shirt. You trace over the bone of his wrist and continue upwards.

He can't tear his eyes away.

Normally, Forget Me Not wouldn't mind. There is an addictive thrill to witnessing the shock of anyone who dares get so close and personal, but he feels himself shrink when you brush against his scales and recoil away on instinct. That's when he raises his head and finds your eyes in the dimly lit staff room.

That expression on your face - surely, you were regretting every choice that led you to him. By now, you might've surely realized that there is nothing for you to salvage in this shipwreck he calls a life. All attempts to check on him were surely a façade for whatever ulterior motives you continued to withhold from him. He's stubborn, believing that he can read you like an open book, but now he's just as lost as you are. When he opens his mouth to speak, you beat him to it and he grows a little restless at your words.

"Sorry, sorry! Did I, uh, hurt you? Dumb question, you would've definitely told me if that were the case. Anyway, it looks like you're okay! I don't know why I was so worried, actually."

His silence prompts you to continue, and all Forget Me Not can focus on is the absence of your warmth.

You raise a hand to gesture dismissively at your behaviour, brush it off to ease your embarrassment, that much he understands - though it's painful to watch you fumble like that, to deny what he hides under his clothes. Forget Me Not thinks of filling the space between your fingers with his own, just to drag you back to that quiet, albeit suffocating, moment of peace. Instead of doing that, he retreats and places both hands neatly on his lap.

"Thanks for indulging me and, yeah uh, again - sorry about that? It just caught me off guard. I should've been more careful."

But you were never careful with his space or his rules, plunging in and out of his life and leaving him to figure out where he stood in his game of push and pull. Why were you being careful now?

"It's nothing, I understand," he lies. Everything you do means the world to him and he doesn't even understand why. "It cannot hurt to know what sort of things the person pouring your drinks might be hiding under their sleeves."

The word "hypocrite" lingers at the tip of his tongue, threatening to spill out with as much venom as he can muster, but it stays lodged behind his teeth because he knows he's even worse: Forget Me Not prays that you'll stay with him, while also opening the door right out his life for you. As much as he wants to, he has no right of calling you out.

He's not used to receiving apologies and so he chooses not to think too hard on yours - though he's dreamed countless of times for the perfect situation in which he finally rips out one apology after another from the throats of those who wronged him, this one feels different. Undeserved, even.

His heart, that wretched lump in his chest, finally settles down and he prepares to end this interaction to save you the awkwardness of addressing his "deformities". But then you go and surprise him once more.

"Come on, I already told you..." You sigh and he inhales in tandem, but you're much too busy rolling your eyes to notice. "That whole thing you do, when you start scratching or, like, picking at your hand? You've been doing it more lately. It had me worried you might've been doing, I don't know - something."

Forget Me Not's eyes widen in surprise. The audacity to notice such things about him? And to put them on display without a warning? What else did you find out?

Part of him wants him to embrace his nature and scare you away, but that's the side of him that's been slowly losing this battle of attrition in his heart - you're a bad influence for him, after all. The other part... Well, it's still trying to sort itself out.

He settles for slowly undoing the buttons on his sleeve. It only takes a moment to roll up the fine fabric to his elbow, knowing you're staring right at him, through him maybe. The expression on his face is one of indifference, one he fights to maintain - this is the most vulnerable he's felt in decades.

That unsightly pattern begins exactly where his sleeves usually end, coiling around his forearm not unlike a snake and traveling upwards. The scales are dark, an iridescent black that reminds him of an oil spill in the middle of the ocean, and the ones at the edges fade away into lighter hues until they mix with the pale, sickly tone of his skin. He knows the sort of beauty he holds, one that can only be admired at a distance, turning into a grotesque imitation of a man when up close.

Forget Me Not presents himself to you and, with his free hand, gets ready to pluck one of the scales off.

"Wait, don't do that-!"

Seizing his arm and holding it close to your chest, you deprive him of the catharsis that comes with this level of self-mutilation. He knows you're connecting the dots, feeling the scattered, empty spaces from all the times you saw him pick himself apart and more. Your fingers brush against his bare skin looking for said spaces, counting them in your head, mourning their loss.

Some scales are in the process of regrowing like unwanted parasites, and he wishes he could feel anything at all just to be closer to you.

"God, what is wrong with you?! What was the point of that?"

Something compels him to laugh (perhaps it's your heartbeat reaching out to him loud and clear through your clothes, he feels it faintly) it comes across as sinister and condescending, the only way he knows how to express joy. Like he's making fun of your concern.

"Apologies," Forget Me Not begins to say, readjusting his glasses. The way you try to keep his own arm out of his reach doesn't go unnoticed. It's such a petty, childish gesture that makes his grin widen and your frown deepen. "I was under the impression you found this little oddity distasteful. There's no need to worry - they will return in a few days, they always do."

"Still, don't do that. It's not funny. It must...hurt a lot."

"Ah, but it doesn't. If else, I'd compare it to being pricked by a very small needle."

"You're just going to find something to nitpick and contradict everything I say, aren't you?" It's the least he can do to repay all the headaches you've given him, and for forgiving his transgressions too easily.

An intrusive thought makes itself known from the depths of his mind - would you forgive him just as readily if he were to kill someone in front of you? If he showed you just how destructive his arcane skills could be when given free reign? Where would you draw the line? And how much could he continue to push his luck before he lost you?

Before Forget Me Not realizes it, you've loosened your grip on his arm and returned to that previous moment of suffocating peace - the only difference is that you've gone from being deep in thought to troubled and miserable, one hair away from darting out the room and refusing to speak to him. At this, his pinky finger wraps around yours and neither of you mention it.

"Can't you... I don't know, do something else?"

"I could be doing my job, but alas, you're keeping me prisoner here." He says, like he's not delighted to be given your undivided attention. There are no complaints when you step on his foot with a huff, he deserved that one.

"I'm talking about the scales thing! You could wear gloves. If it happens when you get distracted then, I could hang around to make sure you stop in time." A pause, and then the sound of your voice becomes unsure and so very small. "Maybe if we covered them with bandages...? But that could be annoying. Band aids? No, no - too unprofessional. It would ruin the whole aesthetic you're going for."

You continue to trail off, coming up with many different ideas and solutions to a problem he caused. He doesn't understand why you'd even bother in the first place. For you to reciprocate the attention he gives you, to care about him? That's the hardest pill Forget Me Not has ever swallowed - it's something he twirls around with his tongue, as if deciding whether to poison himself with bliss or spit it out and continue latching on to his doubts and insecurities.

Outside, in front of everyone at The Walden, he's the one leading the crowd and talking for hours on end, commanding their attention and manipulating the flow of every conversation.

Behind closed doors, all he does is listen to every nonsensical thought, unnecessary opinion and strange anecdote you throw at him.

"...No, that won't work either." Absentmindedly, you fix and button his sleeve back into place.

You've grown used to his silence the same way you've adapted and grown used to his flaws.

"I mean, it worked on me - getting a little slap on the wrist whenever I started biting my nails, but..." Without even thinking, you rub circles with your thumb across his knuckles.

You might as well be the stupidest angel in heaven.

"Why don't you just get a hobby? That's good enough, right? It's been so long since I've heard you play piano, the one by the stage." And just like that, you're on your feet attempting to drag him outside for a demonstration. "You could teach me! That way, we get to do something fun and I get to keep an eye on you."

Forget Me Not knows he has nothing to offer to this world, but when his saint looks at him with such hope, he cannot refuse. The path to recovery seems almost doable when you bump your shoulder into his, challenging him to play the hardest song he knows.

The stars in your eyes whenever you recognize all the songs he plays becomes intoxicating, more so than the sweet, sweet revenge he's yearned for since he spiraled into decadence.

Some days, his patrons join with their own singing or humming, and he forgets that he hates each and every one of them for as long as his fingers dance across the keys - a momentary reprieve from the constant stream of negativity. It doesn't take long for his body to remember his training and soon, he's improvising.

A melody for gloomy, rainy days. A whimsical tune here and there for celebrations.

A song for you and himself - the first one he teaches you and the only one he plays in private, when he's all alone with nothing but his thoughts. Solitude has gone from a noose wrapped around his neck to the perfect time to compose and hone this long forgotten passion. For the first time in forever, he doesn't dread the silence of an empty room, the endless wait between his shifts at The Walden - not when he can simply fill them with more and more music.

And so, Forget Me Not plays, hoping that you'll continue to cheer him on. Hoping that this tiny spark you've ignited in him can truly become his salvation.

#reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 #r1999 #reverse 1999 x reader #reverse 1999 fanfic #reverse 1999 forget me not #forget me not #outing myself as a huge fuckin religion/devotion as a metaphor for relationships freak #and as a hand freak as well. love it when the smallest acts of intimacy are the BIGGEST FUCKING DEALS for characters who are touchstarved #i love writing reader inserts from the pov of the character instead of the reader like #what goes in their head and shit??? THE INNER MONOLOGUES AND DRAMA ?????#FORGET ME NOT'S WHOLE ACT IS A COVER FOR THE FUCKING MESS HE IS WHEN YOU LOOK AT HIMMMMM!!!!!!!#soggiest wettest most pathetic man at manus vindictae #i hope i got his whole fuckin two faced and contradicting mentality across. mf is not having a good time healing but my GOD hes. trying #he hates you but he loves you but god he hates you so much but yeah he'll still worship the ground you walk on #the title is a pun btw. scales. musical scales. his snake scales #IM VERY SMART

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