#he would actually do anything ANYTHING for him and i genuinely need to lie down for a minute hold on | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

straykeedz · 29 days

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Do you think you could do felix with a reader that takes a long time to cum and is super insecure about it but he reassures her that he would love to try and make her cum even if it takes her a long time (and it does) but he actually does it and she's so shocked. Thank you!!!

𝐭𝐰: female anatomy ; mentioning of faking orgasms ; reader has had shitty exes who made her feel bad ; poor communication at the very beginning ; oral sex and fingering (f receiving) ; dirty talk ; ♡

𝐰𝐜: 2,1k ; ♡

a/n: i’m not suuuper proud of this but i had a lil writer’s block so…. also, i edited this on my phone so it might be shit shxhsh. hope u like this anon!! ♡

this contains smut. minors dni. 18+ only.

Lying in bed, spent and out of breath, Felix wonders what he did wrong.

You didn’t cum, that much is very clear to him. And it’s not that he’s offended or questioning his skills, he’s just really confused about it. He felt you clenching around him, and you did moan just a pitch higher. Did you try faking your orgasm hoping he wouldn’t notice? Did he really fuck you that badly? Maybe he should’ve communicated better, checked up with you more, asked if you were enjoying yourself.

He’d been shoved away from your pussy when he was giving you head earlier, you tugging at his hair to get him to stop eating you out. He’d been lapping at your clit for minutes when you’d muttered out a breathy “I need you now”. Now that he thinks about it, the very same thing had happened when he’d fingered you the first two times you slept together. And you didn’t cum that that day either at this point, Felix is sure.

You’ve slept together twice now and you faked your orgasms both times. Felix feels he should bring this up before it’s too late and it becomes a routine for you. Only… how? He wouldn’t want to make you feel bad about it, he just genuinely wants to understand if there’s anything he could do to really pleasure you the way you deserve.

Coming back inside the room a couple of minutes later after freshening up, you immediately notice that Felix looks lost in his thoughts. Nevertheless, he smiles at you once he witnesses your presence inside the room and pats the empty spot next to him, implying for you to come lie down and cuddle, which you do, resting your head on his chest and throwing your leg across his lap as he covers the both of you.

The room smells awfully like sex, which is a constant reminder to Felix that he has to talk to you. Your relationship is at its early stage, and he wants to talk this through with you before everything crumbles - sex might not be the most important aspect in a relationship, but communication is, and Felix needs you to know you’re completely safe to talk to him. He wants you to tell him if he’s not doing something right in bed.

He really, really likes you and wants to be with you for a very long time, that’s why it’s so important that you trust him with this kind of things.

“Baby?” His deep, hoarse voice vibrates in his chest, “you good? You’re not sore, are you?”

He feels you shaking your head. “Nope, just tired, but I’m good. Are you?”

Physically, yes, but his own brain is killing him with the constant overthinking.

“Yeah,” he just answers while thinking of an efficient way to bring up the fact he suspects you faked your orgasms.

Thankfully, though, you kind of do it for him.

“Did you… did you like it?” You ask timidly, feeling kind of stupid for asking, but the way he looks so deep in thought is kind of making you feel self conscious.

“Of course I did,” he doesn’t sound like he’s lying, and you sigh out of relief when he pulls you closer and kisses your head. “Did you?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, but Felix knows you’re sugarcoating the truth to him somehow, and he hates it.

“Baby,” he mumbles after a while - a deep sigh follows the petname. “I know you faked it.”

Blood runs cold in your veins. You open your mouth to justify yourself, thinking he’s mad at you or something, but he beats you to it. He sits up on the mattress, and you do the same, however you keep your head down, not meeting his eyes.

“Felix, baby…”

“Before you say anything, I just want you to know I’m not mad at you. I just… don’t understand? I mean, is there something I’m doing wrong? Is there something I can do better? You can tell me, baby. I won’t get mad at you, I could never.”

You shake your head, fidgeting with the hem of your pajama shorts. Taking a deep breath, you shake your head as a no, “you’re not doing anything wrong, I promise.”

“Then what is it, baby?” He asks, voice full of concern - he wants you to help him understand. “I want you to always have a good time when we sleep together. I don’t want you to experience disappointing sex with me and feel like you have to fake it to spare my feelings. We’re a couple, you should tell me if you don’t like something I’m doing. Even- even when I give you oral or try to finger you, you never finish, you just push me away after a couple of minutes.”

The room falls awkwardly quiet after Felix’s words, until you finally find the courage to speak and tell him the truth, even though it’s embarrassing - to you, at least.

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” you begin. “It just… it takes me a while to, you know… cum. A long while,” you sigh. “You… I like everything you do to me, baby, it’s just… it takes really long, and I wouldn’t want you to get bored or anything.”

“Baby, just… why on earth would I get bored eating you out or fucking you? I don’t understand, you know I’d die between your thighs, baby.”

His words go straight to your core, and you’re sure you’re red in the face by now.

“You say that now. But I can assure you, you will get bored.”

All of your exes did, after all. But if there’s one thing your relationship with Felix has taught you, is that he’s nothing like your exes.

“Baby,” he says in a serious tone, “I won’t,” he assures you. “I know I won’t, and I’ll be honored if you ever want me to try to make you cum, baby, but only if it’s something you want. You know I’d never pressure you into anything, baby.”

“You mean… right now?”

Felix pulls you in his lap, his arms around your waist. “Whenever you want to. If you want round two right now I’m down.”

You’d be lying if you said you aren’t horny right now, especially when Felix’s underneath you, completely shirtless and only in his boxers. However, you can’t help but feel a little anxious. After all, Felix knows you’ve been faking your orgasms and he’s willing to try his hand at making you cum. What if you don’t?

Felix can’t help but notice you’re too much in your own head, so he places two fingers under your chin and delicately lifts your head to meet your eyes. “We don’t have to. It was just a suggestion, baby.”

You shift in his lap and he makes a pained sound, already getting hard. “No! It’s not that. I want to, it’s just… I’m scared to disappoint you.”

He pulls your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ears. “You could never disappoint me. Understand?” He looks you in the eye as he speaks.

You nod. “Yeah, okay.”

“Good,” he whispers on your lips, “now let me eat you out like you deserve.”

Sprawled on the bed with Felix between your thighs, you can’t help but feel a bit nervous as he slides your panties down your thighs, letting them fall on the floor. Felix, however, looks completely enamoured with your pretty pussy.

When he places the first kiss on top of your thigh, your body jolts. “It’s gonna take a while.”

“Relax, baby,” another kiss on your inner thigh, “don’t think too much. Just lie down and enjoy yourself.”

Felix takes his time peppering your skin with soft kisses, all the way until his lips finally reach your most sensitive spot. You squirm when he licks a stripe that goes from your entrance to your clit, and his head immediately snaps in your direction. “You good?”

“Yeah. Yeah, felt good.”

Felix smirks and licks his lips, licking another stripe on your pussy, and then wrapping his lips around your clit, humming as he buries his face deep in your cunt. He keeps sucking and licking and lapping at your most delicate spot. His arms are wrapped around your thighs, and the wet, squelching sounds he makes are the only thing that can be heard, together with your heavy breaths.

It feels nice, really nice, but you don’t feel close yet. Maybe it’s because you can’t really empty your head and relax like Felix said.

“Felix, baby…” you try to entangle your fingers in his hair, “it’s… it’s okay if you wanna stop.”

Felix shakes his head, with his mouth full of your pussy. “Don’t wanna,” he mumbles, completely pussydrunk. “D’you want me to stop?”

“I don’t want you to get tired…”

Felix chuckles, sucking on your clit harder until you let out a whimper. You can’t see him, but Felix smirks satisfied. “Does it look like I’m getting tired, baby?” He lifts his head to look at you, and you can clearly see your arousal all over his chin, mixed with his spit. “I fuckin’ love eatin’ this pussy, baby. ’s so sweet. So fuckin’ sweet, baby, I could eat it all day.”

He grips your thighs harder, eats you out like a desperate man, very pleased with the moans you let out each time he sucks a little bit harder on your sensitive and swollen clit. Felix smiles to himself when he feels you clenching your thighs around his head, and this time he’s sure you’re not faking your reactions, because your legs are genuinely shaking. You arch your back when Felix inserts a finger inside of you slowly, inch by inch, and then a second finger, while his mouth is still on your clit. Your breathing gets quicker and quicker when he starts moving them in and out of you.

“You like it, yeah?” Felix slurs, fucking you with his fingers slow and deep, stimulating your g-spot over and over again. “You like it when I eat you out while I fuck you with my fingers, huh?”

You nod. It feels different than any of the other times you’ve done this. This time, you feel you could actually cum. “Like it. I like it, baby. Keep going, please. Don’t stop,” you whimper.

“Is my baby gonna cum f’me?” Felix kisses your clit sweetly. “Are you gonna cum for me f’real? Y’re not gonna fake it this time, baby, are you?”

You shake your head, legs desperately trembling - you can practically feel your orgasm, it’s there. Felix is about to make you cum for the first time. You moan when he latches his mouth back on your clit, eating you out and savoring the way you taste on his tongue. Entangling your fingers in his blond hair, you push him into your cunt as you feel yourself releasing in his mouth, arching your back.

“Baby, baby!” You moan, your whole body’s shaking, “‘m… ‘m…”

Your body falls back on the mattress, completely spent, chest rising and falling quickly. Felix pulls his fingers out of your cunt, wiping them on the sheets to dry them as he lifts his head from your thighs. The lower part of his face is entirely covered in your release, and he manages to lick most of it to clean himself, wiping the rest away using the back of his hand before collapsing on the bed next to you with a grin on his face. Circling your waist with his arm, he pulls you closer so that you’re resting your head on his chest.

“I’m… I’m guessing you didn’t fake it this time, huh?” He jokes, breathing heavily himself.

You hide your face in the crook of his neck, blushing like crazy. “I didn’t, I really didn’t.” After a while, you say, “I’m sorry it took so long.”

Felix only pulls you closer, kissing the top of your head. “Ah, baby. What matters the most is that you enjoyed yourself.”

“I did, baby. I liked it very much.”

“Good,” Felix reassures you. “I don’t mind going down on you or fucking you, baby. In fact, I love it. I’d spend the whole day buried between your sweet thighs, you know that.”

“Are you for real?” You can’t help but ask, lifting your head to meet his eyes.

Felix nods, then his gaze shifts to the large, watch patch on the front of his grey boxers. “Does it look like I’m lying, baby? Now gimme a couple of minutes and I’ll fuck you real good, too, baby, promise.”

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once-upon-an-imagine · 8 months

Text

What Was I Made For? - James Potter

A/N: well, it looks like this keeps on working so... I hope you guys like it!

Anonymous asked: Request for hufflepuff black!reader x James with the prompt "Forget it. Just like you forget everything else." Where reader has never had a fun birthday celebration and usually ignores her birthday but James promises to do something fun for her and gets her hopes up but then stands her up accidentally (with happy ending please). Thanks so much <;33

Warnings: this is super angsty! (and super long) but it has a happy ending; mentions of abuse and overall a not happy family life, reader feels weird for not really knowing how to express her feelings; let me know if I missed anything

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter :) gif isn’t mine :D

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

What Was I Made For?

Think I forgot how to be happy Something I'm not, but something I can be Something I wait for, something I'm made for

12:08 a.m. Your birthday was over. And he didn’t come. Of course, he wouldn’t come. You kept looking at your watch feeling a tiny bit of hope that he would come running any second, apologizing for being late. But, deep down, you knew it wasn’t going to happen. You sighed, running a hand through your hair, and decided to finally leave. You were angry. But not at him. At yourself. You should have known better. You never should have trusted a word he said. Because he treated you as if you were the center of his universe. And you were stupid enough to believe him. Because that’s what James Potter did. He made you feel as if you were the only thing that mattered to him. Damn him and his stupid beautiful smile. The one that got you into this mess…

“You actually want me to believe that you need my help in Potions?” you insisted as he raised his hands in surrender while you pointed your wand at him. “Why are you asking me?”

“B-because you’re top of our class-”

“That’s not true. Severus Snape is” you insisted.

“First of all, I would never ask Snivelly for help” he rolled his eyes. “And secondly, I doubt that’s true since you are a year younger than us and are already taking Advance Potions-”

“So ask Lilly Evans then-?”

“Evans hates me-”

“So do I!”

“Wait, y-you do?” he asked, confused, stepping away from your wand. He sounded genuinely hurt.

“I…” you weren’t able to continue. You never really hated James Potter. You hated him because you were supposed to, weren’t you? “D-don’t you?”

“I don’t hate you” he informed you. “Why would I?”

“Because Sirius does! And you’re his best friend” you told him. James noticed the hurt in your voice and in your look. He knew you missed Sirius.

“Your brother doesn’t hate you” he insisted and you scoffed, looking away and lowering your wand. “He doesn’t!”

“Look, Potter, you don’t have to lie, okay?” you glared at him a little. “Isn’t your father a famous potioneer? Shouldn’t you be good at Potions?”

“Yeah, he is… you gotta love the irony, love” he smirked.

“Don’t call me that!” you glared at him. “What if Sirius finds out?”

“He won’t” he assured you. “And I honestly don’t think he would mind if he does” he tried.

“What’s in it for me?”

“Isn’t the loveliness of my company enough, love?” he asked but he saw you raising your wand at him and he put up his hands in surrender. “Fine… what do you want?”

You thought about it for a moment. Nobody had ever asked you what you wanted. Not really. You were always just told what to do. And then, you thought of the one thing you had always wanted but could never do.

“Um… if I tell you… do you promise not to tell anyone? Or um… laugh at me?” you said, feeling your cheeks burn as you looked down. James had to admit, he had never seen you like this. You always looked so confident, like everyone else in the Black family.

“I promise” he said, making you sigh.

“W-would you teach me um… how to uh- f-fly?” you asked in a small voice, James wasn’t sure if he heard you correctly.

“Um… didn’t you learn how to fly in your first year?” he asked, confused.

“Look, it’s a long story. Are you in or not?” you asked, going back to your usual self and James let out a small chuckle.

“Fine. It’s a deal. You teach me Potions, I teach you to fly” he said, putting his hand so you would shake it. Which you did, pulling him closer.

“And Sirius is not to find about this, is that clear?”

“Perfect.”

And that’s what it was. Perfect. For the following months, you and James spent a lot of time together. In the beginning, you found him incredibly obnoxious since he kept trying to become your friend. Which he quickly managed. You let your guard down and found yourself actually liking his company. And then, it grew into more. You never thought it could happen, but it did. He had somehow become your favorite person. Granted, not many people talked to you so, it wasn’t hard. But if there was a word you would use to describe James Potter was, enchanting. And you quickly fell for him. And you hated it. Because now, here you were. Tired, hungry, alone, and upset. You made your way to the Kitchens, hoping that you could at least get some leftovers from the Elves.

“Miss Black” one of them greeted you happily. “We thought you weren’t going to make it” he said, making you frown in confusion.

“M-make it? What do you mean, Blim?” you asked, confused as two other elves carried a basket your way.

“Mr. Potter asked us to save this for him but he never came” he explained, confused. “Said it was really important for Miss Black’s birthday” he instructed as they handed you the basket. You felt yourself smiling a little but quickly wiped it away. He never came.

“Thank you so much, Blim” you told him.

“You’re welcome. Happy birthday, Miss Black” he said, as they waved you goodbye. You thanked them happily, after all, they were the only ones that had wished you a happy birthday, and then you made your way to your dorm.

“Hi, Ophelia” you greeted your beautiful black cat.

At least she showed up for your birthday. You changed into your pajamas, played some of your favorite music on your record player, and sat on the small seat you had created against your window to go through the picnic basket only to find your favorite food. He’d remember. Everything was perfect, even the cake. Except, he hadn’t been there. He promised he would and you believed him. You knew Gryffindor played today. You knew they won. But he promised. And you believed him.

But again, it was your fault, really. You should have never let him in. You should have never told him what your favorite food was. Or why you didn’t know how to fly. Or that nobody in your house wanted to share a dorm with you anymore. You shouldn’t even have told him that today was your birthday. Well, yesterday. Because you now understood what he felt for you. It was pity. It wasn’t love.

“Alright, are you ready?” he asked, holding up the broom.

“Actually… I’m having second thoughts about this. I don’t want to do it” you said, nervously.

“Come on, love. I promise you’re gonna love it” he insisted.

You had grown accustomed to him calling you love by now. No matter how much you begged him, he wouldn’t stop. And no matter how much you tried to deny it, you were starting to like it.

“B-but what if I fall?” you asked, making him smile at you adorably and grabbing your hand.

“I promise I would never let that happen” he said sincerely. “But… we don’t have to do this today if you don’t want to” he assured you.

“No, it’s okay” you said, unconvincingly. “I just… need a minute” you told him, sitting down on the grass of the Quidditch pitch.

“Look, I know you’ve told me not to ask why you didn’t learn to fly sooner so…” he said, sitting down next to you. “May I ask why you want to learn now? Why is it so important to you?”

“I don’t know” you said, quietly as you started playing with the grass next to you. “My mother has told me not to my whole life” you informed him. “She always said it wasn’t for ladies” you said, bitterly. “On my first year, she sent an owl saying that she may not be able to control which house her disappointing daughter was sorted into but I was not to ride a broom, and well… you know nobody wants to go against Walburga Black” you said with a sad chuckle. “I always wanted to learn because Siri and Reggie- um… Sirius and Regulus both know how to and they love it” you continued. “I guess I wanted to have something in common with them” you smiled sadly. “Are you… are you crying?”

“I’m sorry” he said, wiping away the few tears on his cheeks. “That was just… um, w-well, every story Padfoot tells me from your home it’s just…”

“Sad, I know” you said as James composed himself. “You can say it” you told him.

“Is it… as bad for you as it is for Sirius?” he asked, worriedly.

“A little” you admitted. “At least Sirius has you, Remus, and Peter” you smiled a little.

“You have me too” he said, placing your hand on top of yours and making you look up at him. “You know that, right?” he asked, feeling his heart beating faster when your smile got bigger.

“You’re sweet, James” you said, surprising him a little. “What?”

“I think that’s the first time you call me by my first name” he smiled.

“Oh, s-sorry, um-”

“No, no” he chuckled. “I liked it” he assured you. “I um… I like you” he said, feeling his cheeks blushing.

“Y-you do?” you asked, breaking James' heart at how genuine your question sounded. As if you were actually confused as to why someone would like you.

“Of course, I do” he said, cupping your cheek gently.

“A-are you about to kiss me?” you whispered.

“Is that okay?” he asked sweetly and you nodded smiling before James gently pressed his lips against yours.

You had no idea what you were feeling. Your entire body felt as if fireworks were exploding everywhere. Never, in a million years would you have thought that kissing James Potter would feel so perfect, but now that you knew, you never wanted to stop.

“Alright. I think I’m ready” you said once you pulled apart. James smile at you and got up, offering you his hand to help you. “Y-you promise I won’t fall, right?”

“Promise, love” he said, pulling you closer and kissing your hand.

Lies. From that moment. You never should have fallen for him. How could you have been so stupid? James may have been right, every story from your childhood was extremely unhappy, but you had never felt so empty inside. Having a best friend who then turned into something more and you were sure that you felt was something that you had never felt before, and now it was gone.

You hoped listening to sad songs would help you cry but your eyes seemed dry. You felt the pain in your heart, which was weird. You never felt that before. But you thought you might as well cry. James said it might help whenever you felt upset. But it ended up being him who cried. And not you. So, you were about to just go to bed, when you heard someone knocking loudly on your door. At 1:47 in the morning. You sighed, rolling your eyes, and quickly ran over to open the door, revealing nobody on the other side.

“James, what the bloody hell are you doing? You’re going to wake up my entire house!” you said, pulling him inside and closing the door as he removed the cloak around him.

“I’m sorry, love! I am so sorry I’m late! I swear I lost track of time!” he slurred out.

He was drunk. Really drunk. He was still in his Quidditch robes, drunk out of his mind.

“Potter, you’re-”

“No, no, no! Please don’t call me Potter” he said, walking closer to you and grabbing your hands. “You only call me that when you’re mad” he pouted. “I know I screwed up but I promise I will make it up to you, love!”

“James, you’re drunk-”

“I know! There was a party because we won and I swear I was just going to be there for a few minutes b-because I’m the captain a-and I just lost track of time and-”

“You should leave” you said, quietly, avoiding his eyes. You knew you would cave if you looked into his beautiful doe-eyed face. And you had made up your mind.

“No, no, sweetheart, please I want to make it up to you. Please give me a chance!”

“You are drunk right now-”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry” he insisted. “I can- I just need to-”

“James, please. I’m tired and you’re drunk. Just go to bed” you said, firmly. “We can talk tomorrow if you want to” you told him.

“I don’t want you to be alone” he said, his eyes tearing up. “It’s your birthday!”

“It’s no longer my birthday so… you can go” you said, getting upset.

“I don’t want to leave you” he said, getting closer to you and cupping your cheek softly, making you look at him. “Please, love. I am so sorry” he said. “Please talk to me, just tell me how I can make this right. You can yell at me! You can throw things, I deserve it-”

“James, I don’t want to yell at you” you said, sighing tiredly. “I just want to go to sleep” you told him.

“I don’t want to leave you, love” he said, with a few tears escaping his eyes and bringing you closer. He was about to kiss you and you smelled the Firewhisky in his breath so you pulled away and he kissed your forehead instead.

“Fine” you sighed. “Y-you can stay but I’m tired, I just want to go to sleep” you gave in.

“Okay” James said, feeling his eyes welling up. He couldn’t believe he had failed you. Just like everyone else in your life. He fucked up. He slowly walked over to your bed and sat down. “Is… this okay?” he asked nervously.

“Sure” you said, sounding exhausted.

You threw yourself on your bed, turning your back to him and James quickly climbed next to you. You instantly felt his arm wrap around your waist, pulling you to him. You sighed deeply, preparing yourself for what was to come. You were going to miss him. You knew that much. You hated how used you had become to him. How regular it just seemed for him to show up and spend the night with you. So, you took it in. His scent, his touch, everything about him because you knew it would be gone by tomorrow.

“I’m really sorry, love” you heard him say before he kissed the back of your head.

“Just… go to sleep, James” you whispered back and it wasn’t long before you heard his snores.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

The next morning, James woke up to an empty bed, and the realization of the night before quickly came flooding back into his mind. He quickly sat up and saw you on your desk, writing on some parchment.

“Um- w-what time is it?” were the first words that came out of his mouth and he cursed himself. He was beyond stupid.

“It’s still early” you replied as you continued doing whatever it was you were doing. “If you hurry, you can still go to breakfast before your friends wonder where you are” you said, quietly.

“N-no. I don’t want to go to breakfast” he said, walking over to you. “I want to apologize and talk to you” he said, looking down at the parchment you were working on. “W-what’s that?”

You finished writing and stood up, handing the piece of parchment to him with a serious expression on your face.

“A list of people who are not Severus Snape that can tutor you in potions” you simply said, trying to make your way to your window seat.

“W-what?” he panicked.

“I have your things here” you said, handing him a box with his things. “Oh” you said, realizing you were wearing his sweater so you quickly took it off and placed it on top of his things. “Sorry” you said, and you felt like you were freezing.

“Wait, you’re- you’re breaking up with me?” James asked, placing everything aside and walking closer to you. “Please, just… hold on a second. I promise I can explain-”

“James” you said, taking a step back. It unnerved James how calmly you were talking to him. Like you did in the beginning. Like your walls were up again and he meant nothing more than a stranger to you. “I just don’t think that this is working” you said, silently.

“Please, don’t do this, love! I swear I want to make it up to you” he said as a few tears started falling down his cheeks.

“Why are you crying?”

“Because I love you!” he shouted a bit louder than he intended to. “I know I fucked up and I am so sorry! But please, love, just give me another chance, I swear I didn’t mean to miss it-”

“That doesn’t matter, James-”

“Yes, it does! I know you’re angry, and you have every right to be, I understand that! But this is a fight, I- I can make it up to you and w-we can go back to the way it was-”

“Why would we do that?” you asked, confused.

“Because that’s what couples do!” he insisted.

“We’re not a couple, James” you said, sounding broken.

“Yes, we are!”

“No, we’re not. You never asked me to be your girlfriend. We’ve never gone out on a date. You barely talk to me outside these walls-”

“You said you didn’t want Sirius to know about us! I told you I didn’t care!”

“That doesn’t make a difference, James!”

“Yes, it does! Because I love you!”

“No, you don't!”

“Yes, I do! I love you so much and I know you love me too!”

“Okay, now you’re just being ridiculous, Potter” you said, with a sarcastic chuckle as you tried to walk into your bathroom but James blocked your way.

“No, I’m not!” he said, softly as you tried to look away. He gently cupped your cheek with his big, strong hand and slowly lifted your face so you could see him. Not even a sign of tears while his eyes were flooded. “Tell me you don’t” he said, quietly.

“E-excuse me?” you asked, confused.

“Tell me you don’t love me” he said. “I know you’ve never said that you love me but whenever I tell you that I do, you smile and you kiss me! You’ve never said that you don’t! So, tell me you don’t love me” he insisted.

“James!”

“No! If you want to break up with me, at least talk to me first! You at least have to tell me how you feel about me!” he argued.

“You wanna know how I feel about you?” you snapped pushing yourself away from him.

“Yes!”

“You really want to know how you make me feel?” you said, getting upset.

“Yes!”

“I have no idea how you make me feel, James!” you snapped, breaking James’ heart. “Y-you make me feel happy and angry, and scared, and sad, and crazy, and warm, and vulnerable, and like I can break at any moment, but I somehow know that I won’t because you won’t let that happen but then I feel so lost if you’re not there! And I feel weak and confused, and-” enchanted. “And, alive and like I can float, and sure but unsure at the same time, and like I can be myself and I want to try to be a better person but it wouldn’t matter because you still look at me with that stupid grin! And- and-” you said, trying to take deep breaths. “I don’t know! It’s just a lot all at once and I don’t know how to handle it and I don’t like it!” you said, trying to catch your breath. “I don’t like it, James!”

“Okay, okay!” James said, quickly walking over to you and placing his hands on each side of your face. “Breathe, love, please” he said quietly, as you slowly tried to catch your breath and stop shaking. James was now fully weeping but a small smile formed on his face. “Sweetheart” he said, quietly. “That’s love” he told you.

“W-what?”

“What you’re feeling” he explained. “That’s love” he insisted.

“How do you know that?” you asked, confused.

“Because that’s exactly how I feel about you” he said as you managed to even your breathing again.

“I don’t like feeling scared” you whispered.

“I know, love” he smiled. “I know, and I’m scared too-”

“Then why would you still want to be with me?”

“Because I love you” he repeated. “And… you’ve made me the happiest I’ve been and I know that I fucked up yesterday, I do, but I promise I will make it up to you and, if you let me, I will spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you make me, love” he said in a serious tone.

You took a deep breath. You wanted to. You really did. You wanted to know what was on the other side and if you could live a ‘happily ever after’ that you read in so many stories when you were a kid. But this was real life. And you couldn’t break James Potter like you broke everything else you touched.

“No, James” you said, pushing away from him.

“B-but-” he tried but you walked away, going to your bathroom.

“Please, James. Just… forget it. Like you forget everything else" you said sadly before you walked inside, locking the door and your heart broke when you still heard him cry.

James turned to look at the box you left with all of his things. He couldn’t bring himself to take it. He needed to make things right. He walked out of your dorm and your house and made his way over to the Gryffindor Tower, not even caring about breakfast. He plopped himself on the furthest sofa, and after a while, he heard giggling and a group of girls walking over to him.

“Hey, Potter” Marlene asked. It wasn’t usual to see him without his three friends and his energy was entirely different today. “You okay?”

“Um… can I ask you, girls, something?” he said as Marlene, Dorcas, Lily, and Alice sat around him. “I would ask my friends but… in this particular subject they all are just… useless” he chuckled sadly.

“Is it about a girl?” Alice asked.

“Well… yeah” he admitted.

“Oh, Merlin it is! Who is it?” Dorcas asked, excitedly.

“I can’t… say it out loud, Sirius can’t know!”

“He’s your best friend, why can’t he know?”

“Because it’s his sister” Lily smirked.

“What?” the other three reacted shocked.

“How did you know?” James asked, confused.

“I’ve seen you in Potions” she shrugged. “You two are cute together” she smiled. “So, what happened?”

“Well, we had been seeing each other for a while now and yesterday was her birthday and I promised her that we would do something and I had this whole picnic planned in the Astronomy tower but… I lost track of time and-”

“No!” Alice said, her smile dropping.

“You didn’t!” Dorcas frowned.

“You forgot?” Marlene asked, slapping his arm.

“I didn’t mean to! We were playing with our secondary team because we had so many hurt players, I didn’t think we would win! And then we did and I started drinking and I just lost track of time!”

“You are unbelievable potter!” Marlene glared at him.

“I want to make things right! I love her and I’m pretty sure she loves me to-”

“Pretty sure?” Alice asked with an arched eyebrow.

“W-well, she hasn’t said it, exactly, but I know she feels it” he insisted. “Look, this is the first time I’ve felt like this in my life and I know that I fucked up but… I also know she’s scared and it just… I want to make things right” he insisted.

The four girls shared looks amongst themselves before they went back to James and Lily nodded.

“Alright, we’ll help you” she agreed.

“Really?”

“Yes, but only because she has looked happier lately, and you seem to actually be sorry. But if you fuck this up again, Potter-” Dorcas threatened.

“I know, I swear, I won’t!” he told them.

“Alright, then” Alice smirked.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“What are you doing here?”

“For fuck’s sake!” you jumped, falling down the stairs you were on and landing on the floor. “Sirius!” you said, getting up. “What the bloody hell are you doing here?” you glared at your older brother.

“I asked first” he shrugged.

“None of your business” you said, rolling your eyes. “You?”

“Same” he said.

“Fine. This has been lovely, then” you said, trying to walk out of the class but Sirius stopped you.

“Okay, no! Wait!” he said, grabbing your arm and turning you around. “I was… looking for you” he admitted.

“If you’re planning on stealing my Potions essay, I haven’t finished it yet-”

“No, that’s not it” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I… wanted to… um… talk to you” he said, awkwardly.

“Why?” you asked, genuinely confused.

“Well, there are… a few things I wanted to tell you” he admitted. “If um… you’d like to come with me to the… Lake or something” he said.

“Well, since you asked so normally” you said, still confused. But this was the first time that Sirius talked to you in so long, you really didn’t want to take it for granted, so you followed him. Once you reached to the Great Lake he sat down near a tree and pointed his side so you would join him. “So… did you bring me here to kill me or-”

“Shut up” he said with a faint chuckle. He then looked inside his bag and got out a small present. “Here” he said, handing it to you. “Um… happy birthday” he said quietly. You raised your eyebrow at him before grabbing the gift.

“Is this thing going to catch fire or something?”

“No!” he argued. But he couldn’t really blame you for thinking that. “No, I promise, I just… I know I’m a day late-”

“You’re about six years late but, alright” you said a bit harshly.

“I guess I deserve that” he muttered as you opened your present and you saw all of your favorite candy from Honeydukes. “I… wanted to say that… I’m sorry” he said.

“Um… why?”

“What do you mean why? For shutting you and Regulus out when I got sorted into Gryffindor and then… still not reaching out to you when you were sorted in Hufflepuff-”

“No, I know but… I mean… why now? Do you need something? Are you dying? Am I dying?”

“Stop it, bug!” he said, rolling his eyes and then looking at you when he realized what he had just called you. You felt your heart stopping for a moment.

“You… you haven’t called me that in a very long time” you said, feeling warmth in your heart. Once you thought was absolutely gone.

“I know… I’m sorry, if you’re not okay with it-”

“It’s okay” you quickly said. “I… kind of missed it” you admitted, looking away.

“You used to hate it” he chuckled.

“Yeah, I know but… once it was gone…” you sighed.

“We’re both really bad at this, aren’t we?” he laughed a little and, to his surprise, you did too.

“We definitely are the worst at feelings” you admitted. “Why are you apologizing to me now?” you asked curiously.

“A couple of reasons” he said. “I miss you” he admitted and you glared at him a little. “I really do!” he insisted. “Look, I get that we are awful at feelings and all that but… I’ve kind of been working on it and… I just… I want a relationship with my little sister” he said genuinely.

“Those are big words, Sirius” you chuckled. “What do you even know about relationships?”

“Well… I’m… currently in one” he said, looking away.

“You are?” you asked, a bit shocked and he nodded. “Wow, who’s the unlucky girl?”

Sirius let out a scoff, glaring at you. “Actually… it’s not a girl” he corrected.

“Is it Lupin?” you asked as Sirius widened his eyes in surprise.

“How did you know?”

“Well, it’s pretty obvious, you sink a deeper level of idiot whenever you’re around him” you informed him.

“That’s not true!”

“Yes, it is. Last week you knocked down your cauldron and three others when he laughed” you pointed out.

“That was… an accident” he tried to defend himself.

“Sure, it was” you said sarcastically.

“So… what do you think?” he asked, nervously.

“Why would you care what I think?”

“Well, you’re my sister, and… you’re also… the first person I’ve told” he admitted.

“Really?”

“Y-yeah” he said with a nervous smile.

“Well, if I’m being completely honest… I think Remus can do a lot better than you” you said with a smirk, making Sirius push you a little and glare at you.

“That’s not funny” he argued.

“I wasn’t joking” you said. “Is he… the one that’s making you get in touch with your feelings?”

“Kinda” he admitted. “You know, he and James grew up in a functional home, and… they know how to feel like a normal person” he informed you. “So… a few months ago, I was where you are right now” he added.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, nervously.

“I’m talking about you and Prongs and how you are afraid of being in a relationship with him” he said, casually.

“W-what? D-did James say-?”

“He didn’t say anything, but he’s a terrible liar” he shrugged. “I’ve known for a while and… to be honest, I have never seen him as happy as he is with you” he told you. “And… I have never seen him as miserable as today” he added. “So, I knew you were probably feeling worse, but… had no idea how to express it” he told you.

“How would you even know that?”

“Because you’re just like me” he told you. “A few months ago, Remus and I had our first fight. He told me that he loved me and… I kind of ran away” he said. “We didn’t speak for about three days. I was in such a bad mood, even I didn’t want to deal with myself” he explained. “Look, I know that we are wired differently than everyone else because mum and dad didn’t exactly teach us how to… feel or… love” he continued. “So, when someone does, it feels-”

“Fucking weird” you added.

“Yeah” he agreed. “But… that doesn’t mean that we can’t, you know that, right? And it doesn’t mean we don’t deserve it, bug” he told you. “I know I screwed up on my part and I am really sorry for pushing you away-”

“Why did you do it?” you asked all of the sudden. “I get that you were angry when you came back home from your first year but… Regulus and I never thought any different from you and you… shut us down” you said, sadly. “And then… the next year, when I was sorted into Hufflepuff, I thought maybe-”

“I know! I should have talked to you, I know, I was an idiot!” he said, genuinely. “Remus has made me talk about it a lot lately and… I want to make things right” he sighed. “You don’t have to forgive me if you don’t want to and I don’t expect you to do it right away if you do, I just… had to start somewhere” he smiled, hopeful.

“By giving me candy and saying happy birthday a day later?” you smirked a little. “It’s a good start, I guess” you nodded, grabbing a Sugar Quill and giving him one.

“Well, I also… wanted to help you fix things with Prongs” he suggested.

“Because you love James so much now that you are an expert on feelings and don’t want to see him sad?”

“Well… sort of, but… I love you too, bug” he said, making you almost choke on your sweet. You were pretty sure he had never said that before. “I know, we don’t really say that to each other or anyone else. Remus was the first person I ever said it to. It feels good, you should try it” he continued. “I know you love James-”

“How could you possibly know that? Even I don’t know that!”

“I think that you do and that’s why you’re so scared” he told you. “And I know I’m probably the last person that should be telling you this but… there’s nothing wrong with that” he assured you.

“It’s just…” you sighed. “W-what if he realizes how broken I am and he doesn’t want to be anymore?” you asked, sadly, breaking Sirius’ heart a little. “Or if I end up breaking him?”

“Bug, you’re not that broken-”

“Really? Do you want to know what I was doing in Potions class? I was looking for something that would make me cry” you explained.

“Really?”

“Yes, James cries all the time, did you know that?”

“Yeah, he cried when Moony and I told him we were dating” Sirius laughed.

“I feel empty without him, Sirius, and yet… not a single tear!”

“Well, that doesn’t mean you’re broken” Sirius insisted. “We never cry” he continued. “Blacks don’t cry” you both said at the same time, letting out a small laugh. “We’ll get there, bug” he said, pulling you to him and kissing the side of your head.

“We?” you asked, a little confused.

“Oh yeah, now that you have accepted me back into your life I’m not leaving-”

“Can I reconsider this-?”

“Nope, it’s too late! We’re going to be best friends, bug!”

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

You had surprisingly spent the rest of the day with Sirius, and Remus had joined at some point. They took you to Hogsmeade as Remus insisted on at least taking you out for your birthday. You liked Remus, and you could see that he definitely brought out the best in your brother. They seemed very in love. And at some point, it dawned on you. You were in love with James. He had been right. What you felt for him, was love. You were still terrified but you had made up your mind to talk to him the next day. Remus and Sirius even said the four of you could go to Hogsmeade together. This was definitely the craziest thing you had ever gone through in your life. But you were done feeling sorry for your self and you were done being afraid. You definitely did not want to spend the rest of your life like your parents. Feeling nothing and being unhappy. So, you would talk to James and try to be happy for once. However, when you opened your dorm’s door, you saw that he had already gone ahead of you.

Your mouth dropped when you saw the scene in front of you. Your dorm was decorated with beautiful fairy lights above, like floating stars, and candles and flowers everywhere. James was in the corner, finishing putting some flowers next to your bed.

“James?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, love- I uh-” he stuttered, walking closer to you. “Um, I know you told me to f-forget about it but…” he sighed, offering you the last flower in his hand. “I don’t want to” he chuckled. “I don’t want to forget about it and… I don’t want to forget about you” he explained. “Love, I know that I majorly fucked up” he continued. “And you have every right to hate me and never forgive me if you want to but… I wanted to give you the birthday that I had planned for you first. The birthday that you deserved before I royally fucked it up” he said, grabbing the picnic basket on your window seat.

“Did you ask the elves to do the whole meal again?”

“N-no” he assured you. “Um… I did it myself” he said, making your heart flutter a little. “Granted, I… uh, I don’t think it’s going to be as good” he chuckled. “So, we don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to” he assured you before he placed the basket back down. “I um… I also didn’t get to give you your present” he said, grabbing a bag on your nightstand.

“You-” you felt something weird happening. “You got me a present?”

“Of course, I got you a present, love” James smiled sweetly. “Would you like to open it? Or we can eat first if you’d like. Or you can eat. And I can leave if you prefer-”

Before he could go on, you quickly grabbed the bag from him. James smiled to himself at how excited you looked, opening your gift. And then, you pulled it out. A book. And a stuffed rabbit. An exact rabbit like the one in the book. Wearing a small knitted cardigan with Gryffindor colors. Just like the one James had given you.

“What-?” you tried to catch your breath. “H-how did you-?”

“The sweater comes off” he smiled. “I asked my mum to make it, I thought it would look cute because you like mine so much” he explained.

“N-no, how um- how did you know-?”

“You told me, remember?” he frowned, confused. “How when you were a kid, and your mum took you and your brothers to Diagon Alley and you ran off and got lost and ended up in a muggle library” he continued. “And you read that book and you always wanted a rabbit like that one-”

“Y-you remember that?” you asked, in complete disbelief.

You told him that story so long ago. You remember it perfectly. It was the first night he stayed in your dorm and you ended up talking all night. You had no idea he would remember it. It felt like forever ago.

“Of course, love” he said as if it was obvious.

Before either one of you could say anything else, you threw your arms around James’ shoulders and you planted a big kiss on his lips. James widened his eyes in surprise a little before he closed them and wrapped one of his arms around your waist and he placed his other hand on your cheek.

“This is…” you sighed when you pulled apart and you looked down at your rabbit. “This is the nicest thing anybody’s ever done for me” you chuckled.

"Um... I also wanted to ask if... you would like to be my girlfriend?" he said, nervously.

"I would really like that" you nodded.

“Wait, are you… are you crying?” James asked, brushing a few tears with his thumb.

“A-am I?” you asked as a smile appeared on your face. You brought your hand up to your face and you saw that it was, in fact, covered in tears. “I’m crying!” you chuckled as you noticed James’ eyes welling up as they usually did. “James, I’m crying!”

“I can see that, love” he smiled brightly at you. “I’m really sorry I forgot your birthday” he said, pulling you closer.

“It’s okay” you assured him. “You cooked for me” you said with a small laugh.

“I also apologize for that. I have no idea what I was doing” he warned you.

“It can’t be that bad” you assured him. “Would you like to join me?”

“R-really?”

You nodded, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards your window. You sat down as James pulled out the food, smiling when he saw you playing with your rabbit’s ear and going through the pages of your book. He had never seen you smile like this. And he promised to himself that he would do anything he can to keep that smile placed there.

“James?”

“Yes, love?”

“Um… please don’t cry when I say this but… uh, you were right… earlier today” you said, nervously before you cleared your throat and you looked at him. “I love you” you admitted, feeling an enormous weight off your shoulders. And of course, James’ tears quickly ran down his cheeks.

“Y-you do?” he asked with a sweet smile and you nodded.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to say it” you said, nervously. “I just… well, y-you know Sirius and I don’t really- um… I was just… scared because we were sort of instructed to… not really feel anything and I just… didn’t want to screw things up with you because you are very in touch with your emotions and I’m a bit broken that way-”

“You’re not broken, love” he insisted, holding your hand in his. “I wish you could see yourself as I see you. Because you’re perfect” he said, making you smile a little. “And I love you so much” he said, pulling you for another kiss and he felt your smile against his lips. “Say it again” he asked when you pulled away.

“James-”

“Please” he pouted, making you laugh and roll your eyes a little.

“I love you” you said, making him throw his arms around you and pulled you to him, peppering your face with kisses as he heard you laugh, which was his favorite music.

“I love you too!”

The End

[Bonus Scene The Next Day at The Three Broomsticks...]

"Sirius... are you crying?" Remus asked his boyfriend.

"It's just so beautiful" he said, wiping his tears as you rested your head against James' shoulder. "How Prongs set everything up for her birthday after he forgot and he got her that cute rabbit" he said, while Remus chuckled and hugged him and he looked at James.

"You kind of opened the gate for Blacks to cry, you know that right?"

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

A/N: I really love how this turned out so I hope you liked it too! xD let me know what you think! Remus is coming next and then Sirius!

#marauders #marauders imagine #james potter #james potter imagine #james potter x reader #sirius black x sister!reader #james potter oneshot

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beans-in-soup · 30 days

Note

Baby i need more pervert vox, your so good at writing him, just please, take my soul and let me live in glory!

PHOTOSHOOT PT.2

—————————————————

Warnings: cursing?, explicit sexual content, DUBCON/NONCON (for reference I don’t condone any of these acts IRL) fondling, Somno, use of Y/n, Vox is a gaslighting master, p in V, unprotected, spanking, blood, Vox powers off!!

Syno: Vox (your fellow Vee) is a massive pervert towards you pt.2

—————————————

It made him laugh, the way you’d wake up in the morning and immediately begin complaining about the new found bruises around your body, especially on your chest from how hard his claws had been poking into them while he was fondling you.

Your whines about the pain also got him going a little, just the thought that he left those marks on you and you had not the faintest idea.

He’d put on his key fake smile and completely assure you that it happened yesterday when you tripped and fell, you could’ve sworn that you had caught yourself, but the way Vox was telling you that your chest had hit the floor pretty hard..you just had to believe him, of course..why would he ever lie to you?

He liked that you thought so highly of him that you’d never suspect that it was him, or that he’d even lie to you in such a way because you were such close friends.

That’s why he felt extra guilty about sneaking into your room that night.

—

His clawed hand turns the knob of your door slowly, creaking it open. Seeing you already peacefully sleeping, so sweetly.

He trails his way in, he wants to take it slower with you tonight, instead of just getting into the fun part, he wants to work himself up.

That’s all the more entertaining for him. He sits on your bed, his breathing begins to match your own, watching the rising of your chest as you mewl and shift in your sleep softly.

He smiles at you, genuinely this time, not like the fake ones he’d give you anytime you got in your pretty little head about all your weird injuries.

His hand runs up and down your shoulder feeling the warmth of your skin, he plays with the strap of your white tank-top. And then he places his hand on your chest, cupping your mound and squeezing gently, right on the bruises he left last time.

..”Ow..” His screen glows a much brighter blue, lighting up your features greatly as he hears your voice, you groggily get up.

“..Vox?” you blink in the gleaming light of his face. He tones is down a notch, apologizing quickly.

“What are you doing here?” You yawn out sleepily

“I..Well..I uh..I came to check on you…to see if you were ok..you were uhm..screaming and shifting in your sleep, I think you were having a nightmare.” He lies through his digital teeth.

“..Was I?” You question yourself, you don’t think you were even dreaming? But maybe Vox is right, maybe that’s how you’ve been getting all those bruises, shifting and tossing in bed.

“But..you are ok now, I’m here.” He installs a fake trust in you, he makes you depend on him without you even realizing it..and it works, you truly believe he can help you with anything, his words can cure all your problems.

“..can you stay here with me then..I don’t want to have another bad dream” he grins..,you actually believe him. He nods quickly, and of course sympathetically.

“Of course, what kind of friend would I be if I left you in such a pathetic state.” You are grateful you have such a nice friend like him.

Vox gets comfortable in bed next to you, adjusting himself so you can easily curl up into him. You wrap your arms around his figure and his hands come up to brush your hair.

He could totally take advantage of this, was this the perfect moment he had been waiting for, the perfect moment to pounce?

“..You know..Y/n, I think you’re one of the greatest assets of the V’s.” A compliment from Vox was like a blessing, he only gives compliment to people he thinks truly deserves it. Or to the people he’s trying to manipulate.

“You really think so?” You perk up, Vox knew just when to say the nicest things, just to get his way, and for you it didn’t even have to be nice, he knew how much you seeked validation, that even the smallest compliment would make you ecstatic.

Vox took advantage of that these past weeks, just so he has the opportunity of getting you in this state. He’d purposely find anything wrong with the work that you were doing and point it out, sure it hurt him to see the sad look on your face, but it all went along with his plan, to bring you to your absolute lowest and then skyrocket you back up so you’d feel that only being next to him you’d feel better.

He’d tell the other V’s to purposely pick on you or just leave you out of conversations..but what’s this, then Vox would come up to you, and have a conversation with you. You just thought Vox was so nice, it made you trust him a lot more than you already did.

And that’s exactly what he needed..to strike.

“And you’re beautiful.” Vox pokes your nose as he says this, it makes you blush, had you caught feelings for your best friend?

“..thank you..” You kinda move back away from him a little but he won’t let you slip from his grasp

“Y/n I’ve been thinking. We should team up, make something together, I know that the other V’s are all in different businesses, but..you and me, our things mixed togther would bring a whole new era to hell. Wouldn’t you just love that?” Vox smiles giddily and pinches your cheek.

“Uhm..well, y’know what yeah. It would, that would make me very happy Vox.” You slowly scooch back into him.

“Of course it would baby.” The look in Vox’s eye changes, his body begins to get warmer almost like an overheating device..what’s odd is that so do you, you feel your body warming up and you subconsciously shift your thighs togther.

“Listen, Y/n. You are..so perfect, in everything that you do. You’re so..pretty.” Here comes the praise again, Filling your empty little mind with the thought to do anything that would make Vox happy.

You fall right into his trap, your lips meet his. You pull back surprised at your own action

“Vox..I’m so sorry!” You panic, thinking you made a mistake, Vox just lets out a electronically reverberated chuckle.

Vox just grabs you by your chin and kisses you again, you let out a squeak noise but eventually kiss him back, the kiss than turns into a heated make out, and because of his pushing it includes a lot of tongue.

“You know what would make me so happy baby?” He talks in a different pitched voice, like in the way someone would speak to a pet, and it’s almost as if you are, ready to preform any trick just to get that special treat.

“What Vox, I’ll do anything” Anything? Vox almost snorts, this just all worked out too well.

“Take off these restricting clothes for me, ok baby?” You nod feverishly and sit up to begin taking off your unneeded layers.

Vox tries to act surprised at your gorgeous body, as if this wasn’t something he’s seen everyday.

“So beautiful baby, C’mere.” He roughly tugs you onto his lap. And begins grinding you on top of the stiff bulge in his silk pajama pants that he’s yet to take off.

He also sees that as a power move, that he’s still fully dressed and covered, while you’re just vulnerably naked infront of him. It shows just how much he hold over you, even his dignity.

“Please Vox, please fuck me” Vox just shushes you and goes down to suck on your chest, blue tongue flicking your nipple, and another clawed hand going to tweak with your other one.

His who’s mouth envelopes your boob, suckling on it rather harshly, your soft moans fill his ear, he can’t get enough of them.

He cuts it short to take his cock out, it’s a dark base with a light blue glowing tip, it’s pulsing out a sticky neon liquid from its slit. The sight makes you salivate.

You sink down onto his erection and his face contorts into pleasure, his screen gets brighter, and his body begins to vibrate, as if being a overworked device.

The vibrations are sent straight through his dick and into your gummy walls that are contorting around his cock in ways that he didn’t even imagine

You begin bouncing up and down on his cock, moaning out profanities that Vox was desperate to hear.

“Your such a slut Y/n, really, fucking me like this? What if the others hear us huh?” He ruts up into your warm pussy, your liquids mixing together and trickling down onto your bed sheets, his claws find your hips, and he bounces you up and down on his cock quicker, almost as if you weigh nothing, like your just a toy, a simple pocket pussy that is his to use.

“Vox~ I’m sorry” you so pathetic you’re even apologizing for your slutty behavior.

“It’s ok baby, you’re such a good girl.” He loves switching it up on you, going from attacking you to praising you like you are everything to him..and you kinda are..he just doesn’t know how to show it.

His cock forces it ways through your gummy walls and they are forced to take shape around him, make him the perfect fit and stretch to perfection.

“Oh fuck, your pussy was made for me baby.” He groans out as his heels dig into the bed as he begins to relentlessly pound into you from under you.

Your chest moves with the sheer velocity he’s pounding into you at, the vibrations from his body getting much stronger at this furious workout, a digital sweat trickles down his screen, as he furiously pounds into your pussy like a sex toy.

“Vox! Vox!” His name begins to pour out of your mouth unwillingly like a symphony

“Fuck, already dick drunk baby?” He scoffs as his hand goes to spank your ass harshly, loving the way your skin feels against his palm, he rubs your as and even claws into it enough to draw blood as he uses your pussy for his own pleasure

“I’ve been waiting to go this for years” he moans out, you think nothing of that statement with how caught up on his dick you are.

“Vox gonna-“ you whimper out and the vibrations from his dick and the ruthless pounding of his cock send you over the edge, you pathetically whine out, and your whole body spasms as if your were short circuiting just like him.

“Fuck, cumming already baby, how fucking pathetic are you, was I that good for you to be cumming so soon?” He scoffs at you and the mix of degradation and your tiredness and just pure overstimulation on how he hasn’t stopped his pace, catches up with you and tears begin pouring down your face.

“Haha, oh poor baby, come here honey, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make you cry.” his lips find yours again as you both begin to feverishly grind against eachother and shove your tongues down each others throats. He even pulls his tongue out of your mouth for a second, just to get a taste of the salty tears streaming down your face.

As he begins getting closer to his edge his claws dig into your skin harsher, drawing more blood, and he begins letting out spurts of electricity from everywhere, the electricity zaps you in short counts. It tingles your skin and leaves you with an itch deep inside your blood stream, it makes you feel all vibratory inside as the electricity pulses through you, his screen begins to glitch as well

And as he comes to a finish, blue sticky strings of cum painting your insides with his seed, his screen goes blank.

You take a moment to breathe

“…..Vox..?” You almost whimper out as you get off his dick, did you..break him?

Suddenly his screen comes back..he blinks.

“Woah..that was amazing baby, we should do that more often.” He grins and chuckles genuinely this time.

“..Are you asking me to be your girlfriend!!” You get so incredibly giddy

“Uh..yeah kid why not” you’re so happy that you dont care how off put he is by actually dating, he’s not used to it..he usually just..fucks and then goes..but..yeah, he can get used to being called your boyfriend.

—————

Thank you guys for all the support, I love you guys. And I’m trying to get as many reqs as I can!!! Pls be patient😞🙏🏼🙏🏼🫶🏼🎀

#smut #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #vox x reader #vox x you #hazbin hotel vees #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #vox smut #hazbin hotel vvv #the v’s

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grandline-fics · 2 months

Note

love you have given me mihawk brain worms ong, please i need to spend the rest of my days having lots of domestic but sweet moments with him

i just know that beneath his aloof demeanor he is just smitten with his s/o

DESCRIPTION: Domestic life with him

WARNINGS: none, just fluff

CHARACTERS: Mihawk

WORDS: 640

A/N: I know this wasn't an actual request but my health has been bad and I've been waiting over two weeks for test results so needed some indulgent fluff to feel better. Hope you enjoy

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

———————

With what he does taking him away from you so often, the times he does return to you means he enjoys every second he can with you. While you sleep, you’re kept protectively and lovingly in his hold; one arm around your waist and the other cradling your head with his fingers through your hair. Mihawk keeps his head pressed into the crook of your neck and his lips against your skin, not just for indulgence but to also feel your steady pulse. He always wakes first, to enjoy the warmth of your body and the soak up the feeling of calm your presence grants him. He’ll lie still and relaxed in the blissful silence. It’s rare for Mihawk to open his eyes first. He likes to wait for you to stir and turn in his hold and press a gentle good morning kiss against his lips before he’ll pretend to wake because if it’s not your face he sees first thing, what’s the point?

Mihawk has no sense of personal space when you two are together. He’s practiced and aloof enough to be subtle. When you are out in town shopping together he’ll stand close, the back of his fingers just close enough to graze against the small of your back. Or sometimes he’ll stand with his arm against yours. You’re used to it and will always gladly lean into him so to the untrained eye it looks like you’re the one responsible for the lack of space between you two. However if they looked for long enough they’d notice how Mihawk would casually follow you when you hurried to the next stall or store front to browse the wares and how he would always come to a stop beside you once more.

When you’re lounging together, him with a glass of wine and a book and you with the paper in your hands, you like to inform him of the news that he wouldn’t think to look into otherwise. Most of the time though you’re looking for old rivals of his or acquaintances with a smile, already awaiting his dry commentary on their activity.

“Love, look. Your son’s bounty has gone up!” You tell him with a genuine bright grin as you hold up Zoro’s updated bounty poster. Mihawk’s eyebrow always quirks at your affectionate term for someone he would at most call his student. Still he can’t help but feel some sort of satisfaction at seeing the other swordsman’s bounty gaining higher and higher amounts because he knows most of that is down to his instruction.

“They grow up so fast.” He notes and you grin, setting the poster aside to put proudly on the fridge when you get up later.

Mihawk will do anything you ask of him even if it’s something he would avoid. Introducing you to the Cross Guild for instance was something he would have sooner never seen happen. You understood that he was private by nature and neither Crocodile or Buggy really needed to know about his relationship with you. Still all you’d mentioned was that it would be nice to properly meet the men he was working with and as a result he took you to them. Crocodile was more surprised that you ‘deemed someone like Mihawk worthy of your time’ and Buggy couldn’t believe that someone as notorious and dangerous as you had actually settled down and were with Mihawk of all people. Now that they know about you, you do make it a point to visit Mihawk more so he isn’t always coming to you all the time. However with every visit you have to constantly refuse Buggy and Crocodile’s proposition for you to join as an official member as you’re still having fun doing your own thing and being independent from Mihawk makes your reunions so much sweeter.

#one piece #one piece imagines #one piece x you #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #one piece fic #one piece x reader #one piece scenario #one piece fanfiction #hawkeye mihawk #dracule mihawk #one piece mihawk #op mihawk

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pix3lplays · 16 days

Note

Okay so I’m hoping that you did the recent quest before I spill but: just imagine that Gallagher is the actual villain behind everything, I mean sure he’s teased as an antagonist but just imagine him doing the dirty work and just comes home to his lover who has no idea and he acts like nothing happens (like I’m in it for evil men who act sweet and genuinely want to protect those they love, for Gallagher imagine him just being all sweet with his lover but behind the scenes he goes stab stab like-) see even though I didn’t know I knew there was more to the reason as to why I am in love with Gallagher

Spoilers for Gallagher~

Cw! Violence and killing, blood

You’re on to something, I love that. Obviously we don’t know entirely what’s going on but clearly he’s Some Sort of antagonist, so…

Your husband, Gallagher, such a sweetheart, who works so hard to make sure you live a comfortable life…

You genuinely think he’s out there working Security…and the nights he has to be away…yeah your husband is also a mixologist, he works nights sometimes…he does his best to make you happy…

He always comes home so tired, but he’ll always, ALWAYS make time for you.

You can’t bear to ask much of him. He already does so much for you. You just want to give him a kiss on the cheek and pour him a drink and rub his shoulders while he tells you about his day.

Why would you suspect anything? Even when he’s gone a little longer than usual you’d never suspect a thing…he just tells you he had to work overtime and you leave it at that. He’s always so apologetic when he has to “work overtime” and his annoyance at being “stuck at work” instead of being able to spend time with you really sells it to you. Your poor, sweet husband…doesn’t he work hard enough?

How would you know that your husband is busy getting himself wrapped up in some serious trouble? Committing literal CRIMES, pursuing his own agenda…not to mention the whole “minion of Enigmata” thing…

“Gallagher” isn’t real. Just a perfect little collage of the Ideal, loyal members of the Family.

Those scars you traced so delicately? Fake. That soft brown hair that you enjoyed playing with? Fake. His enchanting eyes? It’s ALL fake. You’re in love with a lie. And if it was up to him, you would NEVER find out. He would keep you safe forever. From danger, from his true identity, from anything that might separate the two of you…

The reality is, no matter how you feel right now…if you ever found out the truth…you just couldn’t keep trusting him.

So he would just keep lying. Sink deeper and deeper into his own web just to keep you close to him. He really doesn’t want to hurt you. He would never hurt you on purpose. He’d KILL anyone who found out and threatened to tell you.

Who knows what his agenda is. But whatever it is, he wants you with him, by his side. He’ll do what he has to do. He’s not afraid to get his hands dirty. But you don’t need to know about any of that.

He’s such a good little actor. He comes home after an unusually long shift, you put a hand on his face, and you ask him about his day, and he tells a cute little story about how he was hunting down bad guys all day. That he even had to skip lunch. It’s adorable the way you gasp and drag him to the kitchen so you can make him something.

You don’t suspect a thing.

You have no idea that the path he walks is soaked in blood.

How could you suspect anything?

He holds you so sweetly at night…you love your husband so dearly…he’d never hurt anyone…you know him the best…

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr gallagher x reader #honkai star rail Gallagher x reader #Gallagher x reader

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rallamajoop · 2 months

Text

Resident Evil 7 and Mia's secrets

(Oh, did you think I was done talking about Mia? Not even close! >D)

Coming into this fandom late, I was surprised that popular fanon has it that Mia never does come clean to Ethan, post-RE7. Sure, RE8 depends on Mia not having told Ethan he died in Dulvey, but that has nothing to do with her own past with the Connections (and far more to do with Ethan's own denial, but that's a whole other thing).

Myself, I’d taken it as given that the scene where Ethan learns the truth must have just happened off-screen. Because, disappointing as that omission is, the whole damn game is leading up to it.

And having replayed RE7 lately, I realised there'd be no better way to explain my take than to catalog every time the game spells out to us that Ethan knows Mia’s keeping secrets and wants answers, and that Mia herself wants to come clean.

Heck, it’s just about the very first thing we learn about them.

“Ethan... You were right. I did lie to you. I shouldn’t have, but…”

Ethan's not actually stupid, and Mia's secrecy has obviously strained their marriage for some time. And as soon as Ethan finds her, he’s asking questions.

Here, he’s mostly asking who did this to you; it's way too early for real answers. But then Eveline takes control, shit goes down, and next we see her, it’s in her recorded message from the “Mia” video tape.

“There’s so much you need to know.”

When Ethan finds Mia again under the old house, he’s angry and has every right to be, and he doesn’t pull any punches.

“I always wanted to tell you…”

But Mia’s memory’s still a mess, and Lucas interrupts. Ethan’s next chance to ask questions comes in the boat, and he wastes no time.

“You had something to do with this, didn’t you?”

Mia’s a little more defensive here, but she’s not lying about the holes in her memory. The game’s gearing up for the big reveal anyway, and the writers aren’t about to let her spoil it early.

If you choose Zoe instead of Mia, Ethan spends the boat ride asking all the same questions, only louder.

“I knew Mia was hiding something.”

But in the end, what do we get?

Whoever you choose, Ethan only gets a few brief moments with Mia after she frees him from Eveline’s mould, and no explanations are offered. But if you do pick Mia, then we end with Ethan flying away with her in the helicopter, saying only, “Mia's back and she wants to start over,” and I’m left going, wait, what? Haven’t we skipped something here?

In defence of the fanon consensus that Ethan never finds out the truth, that does seem to be the ‘canonical’ intent ‒ at least inasmuch as there's this one throwaway bit about Mia not wanting Ethan to know buried in a bonus text file only available with this one overpriced DLC for RE8. That’s it, that’s as much explicit recognition as this thing ever gets, one way or the other. And fucking hell, but that's a let down.

Even if we assume that Mia’s desire to come clean goes away once her memory comes back, why would Ethan just stop asking? He’s been asking questions the whole damn game – was clearly asking questions long before the game began! Knowing that Eveline was controlling people doesn’t explain what Mia had to do with it all. Now he’s suddenly all, ‘killed the bad guy, saved the girl, everything’s fine’? Was all that ‘a door closed’ bullshit supposed to be him accepting he’d never get answers? Why?

There are workable ways to spin Ethan never finding out. You could suggest he just accepts that Mia’s memory is gone (hell, for all we actually see of the ending, Mia genuinely might have lost her memory again after Eveline sucked her back into the mould). After all the trauma Ethan’s been through, you could also suggest he’s gone directly into denial, refusing to face anything that might threaten his ‘happy ending’ with Mia. You could even suggest that that bit with Eveline saying 'I can make him love you' is her actively wiping Ethan's suspicions away. There's some lovely, subtle horror in any of these possibilities ‒ I would genuinely love to see all of them explored in fic! But none of them actually come through in the ending we get, and that omission is the single biggest issue that makes that conclusion to RE7 unsatisfying to me.

The whole damn game has been building up to the big confrontation where Ethan finds out the truth and (eventually, if not immediately) finds a way to forgive Mia, so we can still have our happy ending. As much OTT hate as Mia gets, the game is consistent in portraying her as someone who is painfully aware of how bad she’s fucked up, regrets it, and is committed to doing everything she can to protect the man she loves from the fallout of her mistakes.

I cannot overstate how willing Mia is to die to save Ethan, from the very moment she realises she's infected. She does die to save him if you choose Zoe over her. It's so much of why I ship them do hard.

But most frustrating of all, denying Mia the chance to come clean denies her any chance to explain herself. How did she get involved with the Connections? Did she know from the outset who she was working for? Did she genuinely buy into the idea they were finding ways to win wars without losing soldiers on battlefield, that the human casualties of all their work was worth it? If not, why did she keep working there? Was she slowly frog-boiled down to the deep end, did they have dirt on her, did she fear they might kill her if she tried to leave? What excuses did she make to herself as the months or years went on?

It's possible Mia’s the kind of hypocrite who doesn’t care about the human casualties of her employer, just as long as she and hers are okay, but nothing we see from her sells me on that interpretation. And even if she ever was, it's even harder to believe she's still that person after all she's been through.

It aggravates me that the games never gave us answers, not just because I want explanations that cast Mia in a sympathetic light, but because not giving us answers leaves this huge hole in her character. I'd even take explanations that cast her in an unsympathetic light, as long as it all ties together.

It irritates me even more because, even if Capcom wasn’t up for giving Ethan and Mia the big emotional confrontation they deserved, the solution was so simple: let Ethan find Mia’s diary on his way out of the ship. The whole goddamn franchise is filled with diaries and documents where characters lay out their backstories and motivations in ludicrous detail – why does Mia never get one? Just give us a handful of entries dated over the years, laying out her own feelings and anxieties about the job she’s doing. It would’ve been so easy!

It irritates me nearly as much that, even in the few corners of this fandom sympathetic to Mia, no-one seems to be very interested in answering these questions in fic or shared headcanons (and if there are examples out there I don't know about, please do link me to them!) How much did Mia know about what she was getting into when she started working for the Connections? Was it the job she kept telling herself was just until she could find something better, only for that ‘something better’ to never come along? Did she have stains on her record that made it hard to find another job? How much of her lying was a misguided attempt to protect Ethan, and how much was simply about protecting herself? There's so much to explore here!

This is also where I mention that I've already put my money where my mouth on this one, and written up my own take on Mia's backstory, and how Ethan might have found out the truth. You don't have to agree with my version, of course ‒ I mean it when I say I'd love to see other people's ideas too. Heck, I'd even be up for versions where Ethan ultimately can't forgive her, just as long as people come at it from the angle of looking at Mia as a character, not just a one-dimensional-villain.

But of course, I'd still prefer to think about versions where these two do find a way to make it work. It takes a lot to make me ship het this hard, but these two stealth-badasses have pulled it off with style.

#Mia Winters #Ethan Winters #mithan #Resident Evil 7 #Resident Evil Village #Resident Evil #Mia Winters week #RE lore #meta

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depravitycentral · 10 months

Text

Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer General Profile

Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer x fem! reader

Tw: stalking, kidnapping, heavy manipulation, threats of violence, threats of assault, mind breaks, Stockholm Syndrome, mentions of non-con, non-consensual touching, mentions of somnophilia, mentions of cum, threats, Chrollo has a god complex but what else is new, Uvogin is mean to you but he doesn't mean it I promise!, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

DARLING PROFILE:

Smart

His darling doesn’t need to be a genius or anything like that, but they do need to posses a certain degree of intelligence.

Chrollo considers himself a well-read, cultured man, and he feels that his partner needs to match his level of worldly awareness, of cognitive ability. It doesn’t need to necessarily lie in the same fields as his own (though he can’t deny that it would be absolutely wonderful to have a darling who enjoys the same types of literature as him, the same philosophers, the same composers), but they must have a certain area that they hold an above average amount of knowledge in.

He finds intelligence attractive, and what initially causes him to develop an interest in his darling is largely due to the showcasing of this knowledge and smarts. He’s entranced the moment his darling opens his mouth, eagerly hanging onto their every word and nodding along, actually finding himself enjoying speaking with them.

He doesn’t have to pretend to be interested in their words for his own gain, rather finding himself genuinely wondering about their opinion on this or that, curious like a child.

He finds his darling fascinating, and a smart darling will get him falling faster, harder, deeper, to the point where Chrollo develops into a love-starved, desperate man who wants to learn more and more and more, aching to become an expert of his own in his favorite field; his darling.

Creative

Similarly, a darling who leans more on the creative side is a perfect match for Chrollo. It doesn’t matter where this creativity finds its medium – perhaps his darling is particularly artistic, enjoying expressing themselves with the arts.

Maybe they love to paint, watercolors and acrylics seeming to come alive under their fingers. (He’d melt if he found a work of him, the colors making him sigh and dreamily trace the lines, joy swimming in his heart that they painted him, that he means enough to them that he’s taken a starring role in their hobby.)

Perhaps they enjoy photography, documenting small, beautiful moments in life. (He’s always trying to look his best around his darling, keeping his neck tense and posture strong, so that if they did take a sneaky, candid photo of him, they’d enjoy what they see.)

Perhaps they play an instrument, melodies ringing out and making Chrollo smile and nod along. (Learning his favorite pieces would make him struggle to not reach out and place a gentle kiss to their forehead, letting his hands wander down their shoulders and cupping their breasts, telling them he’d love to repay the favor and learn their favorite things as well.)

Maybe they enjoy knitting or crocheting, making all kinds of creations that Chrollo finds endearing. (He’d expect them to make him something, of course, subtly demanding he receives something so that when he’s away, he’ll be able to keep a piece of them with him, something made with love and care and specifically for Chrollo Lucilfer himself.)

Cooking, sewing, writing, anything and everything can fit into this category – Chrollo really just likes that his darling is thinking of him, that they spend their time doing something that makes them happy, and if he gets to be involved, all the better.

He’ll even push his way into their hobby, learning all that he can about it with eager fingers, wanting to impress his darling and make the activity into something they can bond over – a way to spend time together, a way to get them all by his side and happy, never, ever wanting to leave.

He just loves them so very much, after all.

Observant

While it would be difficult to find someone more calculating and cunning than himself, there’s something alluring about a darling who is more observant than those around them.

He likes the idea that his darling is just able to pick up on things, their eye more trained to assess those around them, to understand their motives and notice the things they do.

It’s a sign of intelligence, and once Chrollo’s obsession has formed, he’s purposefully doing things he’s hoping his darling will notice, all with the hope that they’ll spend time wondering why he’s always fiddling with his ring finger, or letting his eyes flick to them. It’s like a game to Chrollo, and he finds it beyond entertaining to watch his darling in action, seeing their expressions flit across their face as they try to interpret his odd behavior.

There’s just something that attracts him towards darling that are able to perceive their world for more than it is – he views himself as better than everyone else, a sort of God among men, but a darling that has this trait rises above the countless below him, standing out alone as a superior being, someone worthy and perfect for him.

He’s egotistical, after all, but a darling that can at least kind of match his observation skills is something that will attract him to them – whether that’s good or bad, one can’t say.

Witty

His darling certainly doesn’t need to be a comedian, but someone who can keep up with his thinly veiled banter would cause his interest to spike.

His words are almost always tinged with just the slightest amount of snark, the slightest bit of condescension that seems to be present no matter who he’s talking to.

Perhaps it’s a result of his own pride or self-confidence, but regardless, a darling who can not only pick up on this but also respond with a bit of snark as well would make him momentarily pause, before laughing a bit and wondering just how far he can push them. It excites him to have a darling who can keep up with him, bantering back and forth, and once his infatuation develops, this is one of his favorite things about his darling.

He loves that speaking with them is endless entertainment, hence how often he tries to goat them into conversations. He’s always, always asking them questions, often designed to get them speculating, philosophical questions that he’s genuinely curious to know their answer to, and in the process he gets to have a sort of playful discussion, something that makes his heart race a bit in his chest.

He just likes his darling’s ability to think on their feet, only reinforcing their intelligence and making him fall deeper, harder, more soundly.

It makes him want to keep that wit all for himself, to not let anyone else have the pleasure of indulging in his darling’s words – they’re his, and the longer his obsession festers, the more he believes in that sentiment.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Dependent

Much of what fuels Chrollo’s obsession for you is selfish in nature.

Initially, he’s interested in you because you make him feel something, some strange emotion he can’t quite place. He’s running through all the possibilities early on, wistfully trying each emotion on before discarding it.

Does he want to use you? No, you wouldn’t be especially useful - you’re not all that developed of a nen user, if one at all, so you’d just be wasted effort.

Does he want to steal something of yours? No, you don’t have anything of particular value, nor are you an important individual.

Does he want to kill you? No, something about the thought leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

He’s stumped at first, genuinely unsure of what you’re making him feel, but it’s not until he spends more time with you that he begins considering options that are more foreign to him - that is, that he may have developed more positive emotions towards you, less manipulative and more yearning.

He contemplates whether he’s fallen in love - the books he’s always perusing make love sound so obnoxious, virtuosic, grandiose, and Chrollo can’t quite say he agrees. What he feels for you is ultimately overwhelming, surely - but it’s also much more subtle, slowly taking root in every aspect of his life seemingly without him even noticing. What used to be hours spent searching out new heists and items to steal becomes twinged with just a hint of your presence.

Small thoughts in the back of his head wonder whether you’d like the diamond necklace displayed in this gallery, or how it’d look against your pretty skin, sitting in the hollow of your throat.

What used to be solitary evenings spent reading in candlelight become small daydreams about what you’d think of his current philosopher’s theories, whether you’d indulge him in hours of philosophical discussions, what your opinions on the perception of self are. What your perceptions of yourself are, and, more importantly, what your perception of him is.

It’s not too overwhelming at first; he’s mostly able to control himself, that ever composed stature of his kept carefully in place.

The thoughts are mostly just fleeting, odd off-handed curiosity about you that he doesn’t worry too much about. It’s interesting, mostly, that you’ve gotten to him at all - and it’s this, really, that drives his desire to learn more about you. The fact that you continue to become more and more intertwined with his thoughts leaves him anxiously aching for more, wanting to see the extent to which you’re able to make him feel - something he’d always thought was more or less impossible.

And what you make him feel is so, so very good; his palms are a bit clammy when he sees you, gaze raking over your figure and noting how well your shirt fits your curves, dark eyes eagerly scanning the title of the book you’re reading out of. He’s a confident man, of course, but at the prospect of approaching you and discussing the literature, he can’t help but swallow, tongue sneaking out to lick over his lips.

He feels a strange sense of peace when he’s looking at you, taking in the way the sunlight shines off of your face, the way your clothes frame your body, how your lips quirk up into a smile when you see the little bunny that hops along the grass in the public park. It’s small things, mostly, that get little butterflies fluttering in his chest – and it’s these little fleeting moments of happiness, of contentedness and fascination that lead him to believe what he’s feeling for you could be the ever famous love – or, at least, some variation of it.

Is it love when he’s letting a smile cover his features as you scrunch your brows and huff when you can’t get that stupid jar open? The way you stick your tongue out in concentration and squeeze your eyes shut is honestly adorable, forcing Chrollo’s eyes to linger on your face just a tad bit too long.

(He can’t help but imagine how you’d thank him so profusely if he opened it for you; he’d even go so far as to roll up his sleeves, exposing his smooth forearms that he knows women can’t resist. Do you fall into that category? Would you be transfixed by his strength, his physical appearance, his smooth voice when he tells you that next time call me first, please, I wouldn’t want you to struggle…)

Maybe it’s the way you look so disheveled in your oversized t-shirt and ill-fitting lounge pants as you shuffle about your apartment, completely unaware of the camera he’d had Shalnark place in your living room. You look comfortable, and there’s something about seeing you so vulnerable, so raw that gets him breathing a bit heavier.

(More than once a thought has, seemingly out of the blue, surfaced where you’re starring and wearing a dress shirt of his – white, stiff material just barely hiding the outline of your breasts and the curve of your hips, tantalizing and looking so very right on you. If that were to happen, Chrollo has already made peace with the fact that he’d hold out on washing that particular shirt – just until he’s gotten the chance to slip it on himself, occasionally sniffing the collar and getting something heavenly, something that can only be described as you and him together.)

Chrollo honestly isn’t sure what it is about you that’s gotten to him to develop feelings - he’s intrigued, earnestly trying to understand it, but as time passes and he finds himself spending more and more time simply thinking of you, he finds himself caring less.

It’s happened already - he’s in love, he’s certain, and now that he’s in that position, the only logical thing to do is pursue you. And while he tells himself it’s all because he wants to learn more about how you’ve managed to trick him into falling for you, really it’s all because he absolutely has to. The longer his infatuation goes on, the less time he can spend away from you, and the less he can justify the strength of his feelings.

He becomes restless when you’re not in his sight - his hands are shaking slightly, thin brows pinched together, every muscle in his body flexing involuntarily. His temper is heightened, irritation brewing in his chest even if he doesn’t mean it – he’s snapped at Nobunaga by accident, his words just a bit harsher, a bit more clipped when telling him the meeting time for the next month.

When he’s not been around you for long periods (a day or so), he just feels like something’s missing, something he can’t quite place. There’s a you shaped hole in his chest, and it turns Chrollo into something of an addict going through withdrawals - he’s become too dependent on the way you make something warm bloom in his chest, and the moment he’s without it, he’s counting down the seconds until he can return to you, return to the calmness and serenity of being around you.

And when you smile at him, answer his questions, brush your hand against his when he hands you a cup of tea, Chrollo can’t help but shiver slightly, his content smile twitching up at the corners ever so slightly. It’s addicting, the way you make him feel so alive, so strangely happy, so light and bubbly and horribly enslaved to his emotions. But while he’s never known himself to a weak man, he thinks he’d be okay with you being his Achilles heel - as long as you smile at him, let him stare as you talk away about your day, let him brush his knuckles against your cheek and whisper that you’re so warm and frail, Chrollo could care less.

He could care less about most things, really, once you step into his life - as long as you don’t leave him, that is. As long as you don’t abandon him, taking you and the feelings you ignite within him with you.

You wouldn’t dare, he’s sure of it.

Possessive

Tying into his desperation for you to stay under his thumb and by his side, Chrollo can’t seem to shake the way anger flares up inside him whenever another man interacts with you. He knows it’s irrational - it’s possible to have interactions with the opposite gender without ulterior motives; he regularly speaks with Machi, Pakunoda and Shizuku without any goals aside from Troupe business.

And yet, he just can’t forget the way he knows some men are - viscous, disgusting, cruel, vile in a way even Chrollo isn’t. He may be a mass murderer, mentally unstable, unhealthily in need of being in control and a pathological thief, but he’s never harassed a woman before. He’s never sneered at one, groped or touched them in a sexual way without their consent, and he’s only ever seduced a woman with the intent of getting information out of her.

But others?

He knows others are probably just as in love with you as he is - you’re beautiful, intelligent, sweet and oh so perfect, truly a naive, painfully unaware little bunny in a world full of wolves. And wolves will pounce, even if the bunny is already in another’s jaws - just the thought of another man attempting to intervene and seduce you themselves is enough to get Chrollo’s jaw clenching ever so slightly, his eyes narrowing a bit and his fingers clasping around his nen book just a bit tighter.

He’s territorial, unwilling to share the way you make him feel with anyone else - only you can bring him the happiness he craves, so therefore only he is allowed to be on the receiving end. He hates the idea that another man could start chatting you up, throwing false compliments and sweet words your way, buttering you up and trying to steal you from right underneath his nose. It makes his fingers itch, the sense of control he harbors over you slipping slightly. It scares him, if he’s being honest – an emotion he hasn’t felt since he was very young, scavenging the streets of Meteor City.

He loves the way you’re able to make him feel, but this particular emotion he very much doesn’t like, nor does he enjoy the way jealousy pricks at his heart when another man glances at you. It leaves his blood boiling, every inch of his body feeling unbelievably hot, his muscles tensing up over and over.

And yet, Chrollo is a man of opportunity – while it may be torture to see you with another man, something excruciating in ways Chrollo has never experienced before, this is a good chance to paint himself in a better light. It’s a good opportunity to sway your perception of him – particularly if the man isn’t wooing you successfully.

Before he’s stolen you away, he’s quick to observe how men approach you, with suave smiles that make you visibly nervous, your high pitched responses to his questions vague and obviously constructed for your escape. It makes some weird sort of protectiveness spring up into him, but he holds himself back. He wills himself to wait just a tad bit longer, to elongate the discomfort you’re feeling because this will only really work if you’re desperate for an escape route. It’s torture, watching, but Chrollo holds on – until he decides you’re fearful enough, his long strides towards you not nearly as quick as he’d like.

Words will slip from his tongue before he can even really think, always placing himself in between you and the man, physically separating you as he quietly but firmly tells the man off, mentioning something about how unchivalrous it is to corner a defenseless woman.

Honestly, as shocked as you’ll be that Chrollo just emerges from the shadows so often, you’ll be incredibly grateful for his presence and intervention - which is exactly what he’s hoping for. He doesn’t like the way his possessiveness eats him up, but there’s something to be said about making sure that he saves you, making sure that you perceive him as your protector and someone to trust.

It’s an insurance thing, more than anything, because there’s nothing that calms Chrollo quite like knowing that you like him, that you’re associating positive emotions with him. It makes pride swell in his chest to think that you perceive him as some sort of guardian angel to you, and while it almost makes him pity you, it just makes his job easier.

It makes it easier to constantly be trailing you (you’ll never catch him, however), and to get you falling for him just as strongly as he’s fallen for you. If you hold him in a position of power, he will be exploiting that power and control - he’ll be subtle when he starts isolating you, the power trip making him giddy because now no one will talk to you. It makes the corners of his mouth twitch up when he sees that notification on his phone, your contact flashing across his screen.

(It’s just your full name, though sometimes he’ll play with the idea of adding a star next to it, or perhaps a diamond or crescent moon - it’s too childish for him, but he’ll often type it out and quickly delete it, only to retype and repeat the process.)

It makes him feel good to know that you’re contacting him, that you reached out to him, meaning you’re thinking of him and not someone else. He’s leaving small hints of his presence in your apartment; a copy of his book that he ‘accidentally’ left there last time you invited him over for dinner, a watch of his (that he stole, of course, but you don’t know that) that you keep neatly on your dresser and glance at every morning, marveling at how pristine and silver it is.

He’ll leave his leftovers in your refrigerator from nice evenings out, internally cooing at the way you finish them off yourself, liking that you’re wanting to finish his food, obviously not disturbed by the fact that his mouth may have touched a bit of it. He’s trying to stake his claim on everything around you, no matter how big or small it may be, just to get you thinking of him.

(Of course, he’s also a fan of staking his claim in ways you’re less knowledgeable about - he’s even spent nights at your apartment, dark eyes appraising your pretty, sleeping face, spending hours simply staring before wandering around your room, picking things up and digging through your drawers. Sometimes, on days when Troupe business has him feeling just a bit stressed, or he has to deal with particularly important but irritating individuals, he’ll even settle himself beside you, sitting in your desk chair and letting his black slacks fall to his knees, palming himself and shakily exhaling. He’ll caress your cheek with one hand, letting a strained, breathless smile slip across his face while his other hand relentlessly tugs and flicks around his cock, eager to see the way you’ll look with white splattered all across your pretty face. He’ll clean it up afterwards, mostly – it can’t hurt to leave a bit on your lips, right? Just so that you’ll taste him in the morning? Just so that he’ll be with you all night, all day tomorrow, so close?)

He’s possessive in the worst way possible, and while it manifests itself as seeming chivalrous and even a bit endearing, it’s anything but. There’s nothing cute about the way he religiously thinks of you, his every free moment spent watching you or speaking to you with the smoothest, most attractive voice he can muster.

There’s nothing sweet about the way his hand lingers on the small of your back, just a tad bit too insistent when he's guiding you through the crowd, making sure you don’t stray far enough away from him to let air flow between your bodies.

There’s nothing flattering about the way he gazes at you as you slowly wake up in his hold, with no memory of how you got there, no memory of where you are, no memory of how you’d changed into a pretty, billowy nightgown, and no memory of him, at least of the tattoo across his forehead or the carnal look in those eyes.

He’s a possessive freak, and once he decides you’re his target, there’s really no chance of escaping. So don’t even try.

Manipulative

He’s good at getting what he wants, and that mixed with his natural charisma leaves pretty much everyone he encounters susceptible to his charms. He’s spent his whole life studying human emotions, interactions and what drives people, and as such he’s got a pretty good understanding of how to exploit others, how to find the cracks in their armor that leave them putty in his hands.

It’s almost fun, in a way, like a puzzle Chrollo becomes extremely skilled at solving flawlessly. But when it comes to you? Well, no matter how adept you are at seeing through people, no matter how levelheaded or careful you are, Chrollo will be getting you wrapped around his little finger, completely bending to his will.

You are certainly no exception to his charms, if only because Chrollo is trying extra hard with you, the genuine drive to get you visibly bashful at his compliments and craving his touch nearly driving him to insanity. And honestly, you probably won’t even realize it – he’s subtle, giving you a small push here or there with little comments about the people around you, or about habits he wants you to break.

When you’re out together shopping around at stores much too expensive for you (courtesy of Chrollo smiling at you and requesting you let him buy you something, because it would mean so much to me, and I know you’ve secretly been yearning for that new dress), he’ll gently chastise you about how you shouldn’t talk to him anymore – don’t you see the way his eyes are on your chest rather than your face?

(The sales clerk who had been helping the two of you was most certainly not ogling your breasts – but even if you bring it up to your companion, he’ll just sigh softly at you, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear and murmuring that he knows men better than you do, that he can see right through them, just trust me, he would’ve given anything to have you alone.)

The comments will be small but plentiful, designed to get you listening to him and coming to think of him as right, as much smarter and more observant than yourself, something that Chrollo will use to his advantage. He does love you, in some twisted, sick way, but Chrollo’s idea of love is distorted, warped and made ugly by the way he treats you.

He knows it perhaps isn’t the classic method of wooing you, but there’s nothing wrong with twisting the situation just to make sure that his desired outcome sees fruition. He doesn’t like lying to you, and would prefer to always be truthful (to an extent, at least), but he understands that it’s what has to happen in order to make his long term plans a reality – in order to get you unconditionally devoted to him, just as he craves.

It’s unhealthy, but Chrollo doesn’t mind; which is why he’ll be putting to use every possible tactic he can think of to get you returning his feelings, all twinged with just a hint of manipulation, just to get the right seeds of thought planted in that pretty little head of yours.

He’s buying bouquets of flowers every week, sent to your address by hand with a note attached in big, loopy cursive detailing how gorgeous you are; haikus he writes describing your eyes, your hair, your figure and your laugh that get your neck and cheeks feeling warm, the flowers always your favorite colors. (The note also generously makes use of the word ‘my’, preceding nearly everything pertaining to you – my darling, my beloved, my angel, my future.)

He's dressing himself to the nines, with his shirts and pants always pressed and pristine, his cologne noticeably but not too intense, just the slightest touch of gel in his hair, all just to make sure he look as attractive and presentable as possible. He knows women find men in casual business wear attractive, and he’ll purposefully choose white dress shirts with the sheerest material he can get away with – just so that when the light hits just right, you’ll see the hard lines of muscle underneath, his abs and pectorals standing out and straining against the fabric. (He’s always making comments about how other men dress when he’s out with you – claiming that there’s wrinkles in their clothing, that wearing such bright, obnoxious colors are unbecoming of a true gentleman, that their watches and jewelry are obviously fakes, even that he’s seen that shirt for sale and it’s a laughable price – some men must not care much for beauty, and if they’re willing to purchase such low-quality items, imagine how poorly they must treat their partner.)

It’s a constant with him, as if he’s actively looking for every opportunity he can to make himself look better compared to those around him – call it a result of his possessiveness, or maybe some weird, unhealthy craving to get your praise and admiration.

Regardless, it’ll eventually have you slowly seeing what he means, finding yourself nodding along and agreeing with his words, even if you’d never have independently formed such a thought. It’s a slow process and will take a while to work, but Chrollo watches with intent, bright eyes and bitten lips, satisfaction oozing out of him because he’s got you right where he wants you, and sweet little you doesn’t even know.

Of course, once he’s stolen you away and permanently attached you to his hip, his manipulative tendencies don’t just magically disappear. Oh no – if anything they grow stronger, because now that you’re truly isolated, it’s just so much easier to mold you into the perfect version of yourself, all needy and dependent on him just as he wishes. It’s easy to get you believing things about those on the outside, using tactics like ignoring you or limiting your freedoms in order to get you caving to his desires, to get you listening and hanging on to his every word like it’s God himself speaking.

And really, Chrollo likes that imagery – that he’s your god and you’re his devoted little follower, worshipping everything he says and making him feel good, important, wanted in a way he’s never experienced before. (Although, in reality, the roles are more flipped – you’re his god, the one thing he comes crawling back to no matter the situation, his unending devotion to you rooted so deeply inside him that not even his soul is unaffected by you. He’s written poetry about the idea, entertaining it through writing, but he’s always quick to rip the pages out and crumple them, not enjoying the uncomfortable sense of truth in the words.)

So while Chrollo’s feelings for you do resemble love in some ways, his methods and expression very much doesn’t – he’s not afraid to lie t you in order to receive the results that he wants, and really, it’s best not to bother fighting him. He will prevail, no matter how to try and keep your head on straight, and it’s just easier for the both of you to not try, to not attempt to make sense of the mixture of lies and truth he feeds you. It’ll save you both time and energy, and Chrollo would really, really appreciate your cooperation – you’re cute when you’re being defiant, but it grows old.

And while Chrollo would never lose interest in you, he’s not above making you believe that he has – if it gets you obeying and letting him rest his hand on your hip (dipping down to firmly grip and squeeze at your thigh too, if he’s lucky), Chrollo will do anything it takes, no matter how depraved or violent.

Anything at all.

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Chrollo, while liking to view himself as being above other men, is only human. He’s still a man, one with an intense, disgusting obsession with you, and the moment that your attention is threatened, the human side of Chrollo becomes very apparent.

It’s difficult to look at him and see it, but internally he’s simmering with jealousy every time another man approaches you, to the point where it becomes difficult to focus on anything else except you, except the way that you’re looking at someone else, talking with them and breathing the same air as them. It’s horrible, and even more so than the idea that you’ll be stolen away from another man, Chrollo doesn’t like the fact that this scum thinks he has to right to even be in your presence.

You’re perfect, in Chrollo’s eyes, and he hates the fact that others get to be around you so freely, even when that privilege is something should belong to him and him only. It angers him how other men don’t seem to understand that you’re already taken and claimed, your fate decided the moment Chrollo decides he wants you.

You’re better than everyone else, a breed above, and he's always just a bit worried that you’ll somehow be tainted by talking with other men, like your perfection will become marred when others look at you.

So, Chrollo does what he feels he must – he must interfere, even if getting closer and closer to the scene has his heart pounding, anger swimming through his veins in amounts he’s never, ever experienced. It’s cathartic, in a way, to have such sudden bursts of emotion, but as his dark gaze focuses on you, he decides that what you make him feel, all the warmth and dizziness and disorientation, is much better than the jealousy sitting heavily in his gut.

He’ll, of course, take his time; he’s opportunistic and wont’ simply waste the chance to further build his positive image in your mind, but waiting is absolute torture. He’s digging his nails into his palms with every moment he’s forcing himself to wait, dark gaze unblinking as he stares at the two of you, mentally berating the man and thinking of the thousands of ways he could torture and kill him. And once he thinks it’s finally, finally time, he’s not wasting a moment and approaching the two of you as fast as he can. It's easy to enter into the conversation, picking up something the man has said.

His voice is smooth and sure, a complete contrast from the stranger attempted to pick you up – your head turns sharply when you hear him, relief flashing over your features at a semi familiar face.

He’s maybe a regular at a café or diner you enjoy – you’ve seen him around, chatted lightly a few times, only really knowing his name and a few of the books he’s always reading.

And while Chrollo knows this, he can’t help the way his heart practically soars when he sees how visibly relieved you are for his presence. His fingers twitch with the intention of reaching out and cupping your cheek, but he refrains himself.

The man, however, doesn’t seem nearly as pleased by his sudden arrival – he’s scowling slightly, brows tucked inwards as he growls out sorry, but we’re having a private conversation.

Your relieved and awed expression suddenly returns to a grim and fearful one, and internally Chrollo feels his anger flare. His face is still neutral, however, as he responds carefully and calmly that he’s making you obviously uncomfortable, and it’s the chivalrous thing to do when I see a woman being harassed. The man splutters slightly, shocked at Chrollo’s forwardness.

He tries to argue back, claiming you were answering his questions, being polite, so evidently you must have wanted him, right?

You’re unimpressed, shrinking back further away from the man and instead subtly getting closer to Chrollo, something he notes with a distinct sense of pleasure. Chrollo doesn’t let up, however, continuing to inform the man that you don’t want to be there, that you aren’t really interested when he offers to show you his apartment that he swears is the best thing you’ll ever see.

You’re grateful, and as weak and lame as it makes you feel to have Chrollo fighting this particular battle for you, you’re glad he showed up. He always seems to show up, really, just when you need him – it’s almost magic, you think, how he seems to know when you need help. The image of him as your savior makes your cheeks feel warm, the girlish thought embarrassing but oddly accurate.

Eventually the man leaves, huffing and muttering under his breath about how you weren’t even all that pretty anyways, and Chrollo feels his eye twitch, a small flick of the wrist inserting just a bit of nen into his shoulder.

Not enough for the man to feel it, but just enough so that he can keep track of his whereabouts. You’re immediately thanking him profusely, embarrassed about how inept you’d seemed, some small part of you hoping you didn’t look as pathetic as you felt.

But he doesn’t seem to mind – if anything, he’s silent, allowing your rambling to continue on, those dark eyes meeting yours and holding your gaze. It’s intense, but as your voice dies off after the fifth ‘thank you’, he only softly smiles.

Of course, his voice is low and nearly demure, making a shiver roll down your spine, it’s no trouble at all. I’d help you out anytime you need me.

He can tell you’re flustered, and while he wants nothing more than to revel in the sight of you looking bashful, twiddling with your thumbs and stumbling over your words, he knows he has to leave. He needs to leave, really, so that he can check over his book of nen, flipping to the page where that the location of that piece of scum that had bothered you was.

He bids you farewell with a twinkle in his eye, looking over his shoulder as he turns and walks away. You look so pretty, standing there and staring at him, trying to hide the way your mouth gapes open, and Chrollo bites his lip ever so slightly, closing his eyes and reveling in the way his chest feels all warm and airy from just the sight of you. Soon he’s turning off the street where it had all happened, immediately stepping into an alleyway and flipping open the book.

The nen signature leads him to a dingy apartment – surely not the beauty he’d been boasting to you about – and Chrollo nearly snorts as he sees the man throwing back his head, drowning the beer bottle in hand. No one else is in the apartment, he finds as he slips through the front door, which is ideal. He’s quick to conjure up his giant nen fish, a smile slowly spreading across his lips as the man suddenly freezes, unable to move as a fish moves to nibble at a toe, teeth biting and crunching through bone.

It doesn’t take long – maybe ten minutes or so, but Chrollo enjoys every moment of watching the man slowly get eaten alive, those dark eyes wide and excited. It’s euphoric, really, and as he remembers the way the man had nearly had the audacity to touch you, to touch what was Chrollo’s, he can’t stop himself from chuckling slightly.

It’s only after the fact, once all is said and done, that he notices his hands are shaking, his cheeks a bit sore from smiling for such a long period of time. It’s only then that he hears how his heartbeat is loud in his ears, blood pounding as the excitement and satisfaction of seeing the sofa now empty, not a spec of blood ruining the upholstery.

He wishes he could have killed him by his own hand, perhaps stabbed him a few times, burned him alive, maybe even drowned him – but this is better, because now when you watch the news you won’t see some horrible, mangled body.

And once he’s stolen you away, it’s better if you don’t see the gruesome ways that he’s killed – how will you continue to look at him with such adoration and love in your eyes if you do? And Chrollo couldn’t stand to not have you gaze at him with anything short of fondness, admiration, desperation.

He closes the man’s apartment door, making sure to lock it, before tapping into the nen wedge lodged into your own shoulder – seems you’re walking home now. Perhaps you’d like some company from the shadows.

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Chrollo is extremely methodical with his approach towards seducing you.

He’s careful to present himself as a gentleman, a classically chivalrous man with his dark features and smooth voice. He’s never tried to genuinely make someone develop feelings for him before – it’s only ever been for a job or to place someone into the palm of his hand, but with you it’s different.

He’s actively trying everything he can think of to make you like him, pouring through romance novels to find common themes, trying all manner of approaches and tactics so that you’ll only associate him with happiness and nerves.

And frankly, Chrollo will absolutely get you falling for him. By the time that he feels he’s ready to steal you away, you’ve probably developed a massive crush on him, your feelings strong and difficult to ignore. Really, you can’t be blamed – he’s a master manipulator, and while his romantic experience is dismal, it’s not so hard to find out your favorite flower and leave a bouquet at your door. It’s not so difficult to send expensive perfumes or jewelry to you, attached with a note detailing what it is about the piece that makes him think of you.

You’ll nearly be in love, something that he’s worked extremely hard to cultivate. It hasn’t been easy, holding off all this time. There’s been more opportunities than he can count where he could’ve so easily swept you into his arms and took off into the night, never to have you seen again by anyone but himself.

He’s had to physically restrain himself more often than he’d care to admit from reaching out and grabbing you, tucking you so tightly against his chest that you can’t breath as he boards the airship, the Troupe standing guard outside your new bedroom to make sure you don’t get any funny ideas. You’re laughably weak compared to him, and while it sometimes causes Chrollo to worry for your safety, it’s ultimately an asset to him.

Because now that you’re completely under the impression that Chrollo is the perfect man for you, it’s all so much easier to relocate you without a fuss. It all happens much faster than Chrollo had expected, however – all too soon you’re seeing blurry images on the television news one night, the cereal you’d been eating forgotten as you take in the familiar earrings, the dark eyes, the forehead tattoo he’s always written off as a family tattoo.

You’re in shock, eyes wide as you listen to the anchor list off the multitudes of crimes the Troupe has been accused of, and for a moment you refuse to believe it’s true. That’s not Chrollo – not your Chrollo, the man who picks you up at 7:00 sharp for the dinner date he’s reserved at the fanciest restaurant in town.

That’s not your Chrollo, the man who opens doors for you and pulls out your chair, almost placing a hand on the small of your back to guide you through large crowds. He could never murder someone – could never be the cause of the some hundreds of lost lives the TV claims he’s responsible for.

But then you hear a sigh, that familiar voice murmuring out that it’s really all just so unfortunate, I was hoping to gain your favor a bit more. Alas, the façade is up, I’ll make sure to pack that sweatshirt you love so much. Please, love, don’t struggle too much. There’s a pinprick in your neck, those dark eyes the last thing you see before blackness surrounds you. Chrollo can only mournfully look down at you, having caught your unconscious body in his arms.

It’s a good opportunity to run his fingers over your lips, to trace the shape of your nose, to press a surprisingly sweet kiss to your forehead. It was inevitable, but I’m sure you’ll forgive me eventually. We’re made for one another, after all.

Once you’re trapped with him, a few things will become very apparent to you very quickly. Firstly, Chrollo is a criminal – the dashing man you thought you knew is not real, his true personality slipping out almost immediately. He’s no longer attempting to hide the reality of his work, discussing new jobs and elimination plans over the phone in the same room as you, not mincing words when he tells the mystery man to make it messy, the more blood the better.

Second, he’s a very important man. He’s constantly being phone called, stepping out for this or that meeting, making decisions you don’t even understand. The very few people he’s ever let you meet almost seem to revere him, unconditionally bowing to his word and only addressing him as Boss.

Third, he’s much stronger than you’d realized, the odd pressure he seems to radiate growing and ebbing at various points in the day. You’d seen the way he’s merely flicked his wrist and a man that had seen the handcuffs initially around you was suddenly headless, sliced clean off without so much as a sound.

Lastly, Chrollo Lucilfer is desperate. Despite being kidnapped, forced to jump from hotel room to hotel room firmly attached at his hip, there’s never been a lull in the way that he demands your attention. There’s never been a free moment where he’s not looking at you, that same small smile quirking on his lips that used to fluster you but now only makes your gut twist. He’s always asking you questions – some are easy, surface level and don’t require effort on your part. He’s asking what your favorite color is, what your favorite breakfast foods are, if you prefer to wake up early or sleep in.

(He already know the answers, but he likes hearing you say it.)

Some are more difficult, making you consider your words before you speak them. He’s asking you whether you’ve ever dreamed of what your wedding venue will look like (he of course pushes for details, mentally noting everything and imagining it alongside you), what you would name a pet cat (either solid black or solid white fur, you pick), asking you to jot down a few of your favorite songs so that he can compile a playlist for you, as you have limited electronic access (the playlist is really for him, so that when he’s away on missions he can still feel like he’s with you, but that’s besides the point).

And then there’s the ‘why’ questions – these are the hardest, his eyes boring into you as he asks you why you claim to love your friends, why you’re fighting him so hard, why you think life itself even exists. They make you think, and while you don’t want to answer, Chrollo will keep pushing and pushing and pushing, using your words against you and slowly taking away any privileges you’ve managed to earn.

It’s not worth the fight that ensues if you ignore any of his questions, so you’ll answer as succinctly as possible, choosing your words carefully and watching for his reactions. Mostly, he just likes to hear your voice – knowing there’s no one else in the room, so you’re talking to him and only him, thinking of ways to respond to what he asked you.

He likes to know your opinion on things, each and every word you utter only furthering his fascination with you, contradictions in your thoughts popping up right and left. Mostly, as a captor, Chrollo is really just omnipresent. He’s always there, dark eyes trained on you and listening to every little thing you say, watching every little thing you do, commenting on what feels like every thought you have.

It’s exhausting, the way he’s constantly hovering, the way he’s constantly on the look out for any kind of interaction with him, and at first you’ll find yourself growing tired, afraid, frantic to be alone.

You’ll eventually explode, yelling at him and telling him to leave you alone, to disappear, to just get away from me, you monster! He’s silent as your words sink in, his face carefully neutral, before he laughs softly, shaking his head a bit.

If that’s what you wish, he’ll ominously tell you, walking out the hotel room door and locking it behind him. It’s wonderful, the first few hours without him – finally some time to yourself, to really cry or scream or just ponder your new life.

But after a day or two passes, thing start changing – you don’t like Chrollo, you promise, but it’s sort of lonely without him. The hotel room is big but empty, his missing presence louder than the silence. You’ll slowly find yourself starting to miss him, wishing he’d come back and continue asking those stupid questions of his, to brush his fingers against your cheeks and thighs, to gaze at you with that deranged but enamored look in his eye.

By day five, you’re frantic for him to come back, taking to sitting in the corner and staring at the door, persuading yourself that he’ll have to return sometime, that eventually he’ll come back to you, that he won’t just leave you alone to die.

And when he does, ten days after leaving you fully alone (minus the cameras placed in the room), he’s shocked to feel the way you rush in for a hug as the door swings open. You’re wrapping your arms around his torso, burying your face into his chest, and Chrollo can’t help but blink widely down at you, lips parted but no sounds coming out. He knew the loneliness was getting to you, but you’d never initiated physical contact like this before. Was it an act of desperation, or was it because you were missing him?

Did you ache for human contact, or did you ache for his contact?

He’s not sure, but he finds himself humming and returning the gesture, letting a hand pet your hair as he asks you if you missed him, if you’d gotten lonely, if you’d like to lay down for a bit with him. You’re not as clingy after you pull away from the hug, but Chrollo doesn’t care – you lay with him, a good two feet of space between your bodies, but it’s progress.

You’re more open after that, not flinching away and snapping at him when he reaches out to touch you. Instead, you’re almost leaning into his touch, enjoying it – which leads to another key aspect of being Chrollo’s captive; the touching.

He’s not invasive with it in the beginning, but as time passes you’ll notice the way his hand is always lingering at your waist, his fingers drumming against your skin. You’ll realize he’s always shuffling closer to your body, dissatisfied with the space between you. You’ll get used to the way he asks for a kiss before you both fall into slumber, his arms snaking around your middle and pulling you back against his chest as he sighs into your ear.

The rational side of you is enraged, disgusted by his attempts at romantic and intimate touches, but a part of you that grows larger with every passing day stops caring, slowly accepting that Chrollo is all you have left now, and that you should take advantage of every ounce of affection he’s willing to show you. It may not be real (though the obsession that gleams in his eyes certainly is, as is the blood that sometimes stains his pale chest when he returns home from a few days away), but it’s something.

It’s enough that you can almost overlook the way he keeps you trapped in the hotel rooms, stuck by his side, with only your books and himself to entertain you. You can almost forget the way he’s freely admitted to killing for you, nonchalantly threating family members if you try to escape, telling you he’ll hear about anything and everything you do because nothing can hide from him.

Eventually, you’ll stop caring – your life is easier now, all the stress and worries of independence gone, and Chrollo couldn’t be more pleased that you’re settling down, or mellowing, as he likes to say. You’re closer to realizing your true purpose with him – to continue to give him that warmth he craves, to continue to let him kiss and hold you, to let him steal every ounce of your attention and time.

He’s a thief after all, and now that you’re his, he’s entitled to take whatever he wants.

PUNISHMENTS:

While Chrollo is, overall, a somewhat lenient captor, he does have a few strict guidelines.

Firstly, you are to never ignore him. To ignore him would mean a rejection of his feelings for you, and while Chrollo is normally a cool, level-headed man, the second you even encroach on any actions that could be considered a rejection of a his love, of him, he’s clenching his jaw and doing his best to not lash out, keeping his temper and check and calculating ways to make you recognize the consequences of your actions.

Secondly, do not try to escape. He’s lucid enough to understand that once you’ve first been kidnapped, you’re likely to try everything in your power to escape. It doesn’t matter how deeply your feelings for him have formed – it’s only human nature to not enjoy being trapped, which is why he’ll have to train you, to make sure that you correctly acclimate to your new life with him, to your new future.

And lastly, you must never attempt to hurt him. Of course, you could never do any real damage, but the sentiment will hurt him more than he’d care to admit – by reaching out and wishing him harm, you are, once again, rejecting him. You’re displaying a desire to wound him, and he absolutely cannot have you thinking that you’re in any position of power or control in your relationship with him.

(You are, of course, because Chrollo’s dependence on you is really quite pathetic and sad, but you won’t be aware of the depth of his feelings for you until very, very late into your time with him. He’s good at hiding this, if only because letting you see him vulnerable would mean letting you have a sliver of control over him, a concept that terrifies him to his very core.)

Those three things are really the only ways to set Chrollo off – he’s generally pretty adaptable, able to read you like a clock and understanding what you’re thinking merely by watching your facial expressions, and because of this he won’t often punish you. He doesn’t like the idea of disciplining you, instead preferring to simply manipulate you into thinking and feeling the way he wants you to. But, if any of the three rules are breached, Chrollo finds himself resorting to more extreme measures, doing what he feels is necessary to garner the results he’s looking for.

Even so, he won’t ever rely upon physical means to punish you – he doesn’t like the idea of you being injured or hurt, and it would be a hassle to mend the damage hurting you would cause.

So, Chrollo defaults to more manipulative measures, punishments he knows will leave you crying and terrified, inflicting more psychological rather than physical damage. It’s the only way he can get what he wants, after all, and Chrollo has always been determined to get his way – even at the expense of you, his most prized possession.

When you’re staring at him with such hard, pained eyes, it almost makes him feel bad for a moment. Almost, if only because your words are replaying in his head, the tone and wavering in your voice making pause for a brief moment.

You’d said you hated him, that he was a monster, that you were unhappy being with him. It was all things Chrollo had already known, of course, but it certainly didn’t feel good to hear them come from you, nonetheless.

He just sighs, looking at you with that same belittled, heavy gaze, telling you to calm down, darling, don’t say things you don’t mean.

This just angers you more, it seems, because soon you’re nearly screaming, throwing a pillow or two at him as you yell that you’re not lying, you sick fuck! I hate you, I will never love you, I will never need you! Please, you have to let me go, I can’t stand being with you any longer!

What you’re saying isn’t even particularly harsh – he’s heard much, much worse from his victims over the years, searing words insulting his intelligence, his appearance, his morals, his past, everything and anything. And yet, there’s something about hearing the words coming from you that makes him flounder a bit, a sinking feeling in his gut making him stand up straight, appraising your shaking, heaving form across the room. It’s silent for a few long moments, before he simply adjust his jacket, pulling the lapels slightly and turning his back to you. Very well then, if that’s how you feel. As you wish, my dear.

And with that, he’s slipping out the hotel door, disappearing to who knows where. You’re left trembling in anger, your breathing unsteady, but before you can think you’re rushing to the door, wiggling the handle violently and sucking in a sharp breath when you feel that it’s unlocked, practically begging you to throw it open and leave this godforsaken hotel room.

As you rush away, sprinting down staircases and down never-ending hallways, you’ll distantly know that this is probably a trap. Chrollo wouldn’t just let you go, you’re sure, especially with such suspicious time. But you can’t stop yourself from taking advantage of the opportunity, deciding that even if it is a trap, the few brief moments of freedom that you’ll have will be enough to warrant it all.

And yet, as you push through the front doors and take a look around the busy, bustling street you’ve stumbled upon, you nearly sob. You have no idea where you are, the landmarks totally unfamiliar, but you’re free, feeling the sunlight on your skin without Chrollo’s presence pressed into your side, his cold fingers pushing into your hip or shoulder. You don’t have any money and have no idea where to go, but your legs are moving faster than you can think, wandering through the city along back roads and side streets.

Hours quickly pass by, exhaustion beginning to settle into your bones as the sun dips back behind the horizon, leaving the city in shadows and quiet aside from the hum of cars and the bustle of city goers. It’s only once you’re stumbling through an alley that you hear it – him, to be specific.

At least, you’re pretty sure it’s a man – the footsteps are obviously trying to be quiet, but they’re not doing a good enough job to go unnoticed by you. He’s breathing loudly, too, and as you glance over your shoulder, eyes wide and scared, you don’t see anyone.

You’re sure there’s someone there, that they’ve followed you down this alleyway, and as you press your back against the slightly wet brick wall of the building behind you, you feel your heart practically about to beat out of your chest.

Who was there?

It’s silent for a moment, before a short laugh is barked out, the man emerging from behind a dumpster. Shadow falls over his face, making it impossible to see his face, but you do see his size. He’s a monster of a man, bulky shoulders easily above your head, muscles bulging along his arms and under his pants. A wild bed of hair sits atop his head, and you feel yourself freeze, fear eating away at your heart.

You can’t move as the man comes closer, face still hidden in the darkness, and it’s only when he comes down to punch at your stomach do you realize what’s about to happen, panic engulfing your senses as his fist comes closer and closer and closer – It sucks the air right out of your lungs, making you wheeze and gasp for breath, knees slamming into the concrete below you as you gasp and struggle to regain your breath.

The man laughs, a timber, horrible sound, but stops abruptly at the distant sound of sirens. He curses under his breath, and you feel his eyes on you, daring to look up at him in between your fits of coughing.

You’re lucky, bitch, he starts, voice gravelly as he begins backing up. Next time I’ll get you, the cops won’t be coming and I’ll show you why weak little things like you shouldn’t be in alleyways late at night – makes it hard for me to resist ya, and I think you’d look even better without that ugly ass nightgown you’ve got on.

And with that, he’s sprinting down the alley, running away even as the sirens get further and further away. You’re left to lay on the cold, wet ground, having regained your breath but letting tears stream down your face. You don’t want to admit it, but you’d been hoping that Chrollo would magically appear, just like he always does. You’d hoped that he would’ve stopped the stranger’s punch, that he would’ve saved you just like he used to.

The thought of Chrollo makes you flinch, but you can’t stop yourself from wondering if maybe he was right. Maybe he’s right that you can’t take care of yourself, that you’re too weak for this world, that you’re better off with a monster like him (quoted directly from him, with that signature smirk of his) rather than the everyday men.

You curl up, knees to your chest for a while, before your up again, wandering and trying to retrace your steps back to the hotel you’d run out of only hours ago. Eventually you’ll make it back, and as you wait in the lobby, rubbing at your now dirty and bruised body, your eyes will flick across every person entering and exiting, before you begrudgingly make your way to the elevator, riding up tot eh floor you knew your room was on.

It takes everything in you to knock on the door – his door, but eventually you do. And when he opens it, a small hello trickling past his lips, you can’t help but let out an ugly, gaspy sob, rushing forward and wrapping your arms around him. It feels horrible, disgusting, so very good to feel how he returns the hug, gently patting your back and smoothing down your hair, a soft hello my dear making your shoulders shake.

He won’t ask too many questions, letting you inside and nearly forcing you into the shower, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Even when he’s got you wearing a fresh set of soft, lounging clothing (with a neckline just a bit too low to cover your collarbone, something his eyes are often drawn to), you can’t find it in yourself to ask. He’s talking to you, after all, asking you if you enjoyed your time in the real world, if it was as grand as you’d hoped.

His eyes are twinkling, and although the apology you offer up isn’t as loud or insistent as he’d hoped for, it still makes him smile, his throat bobbing as he loudly swallows.

The conversation is over for the evening, and it’s only after you fall asleep (in his bed, he notes with a somewhat shy smile and a shaky exhale) that he pulls out his phone, pressing the contact name and smiling at the dial tone.

Thank you, Uvogin, he starts, letting a hand run very lightly over your leg under the sheets. This favor won’t be forgotten.

OVERALL DANGER:

9/10

The thing that makes Chrollo a dangerous yandere is less his violent tendencies, and more of the way you nearly won’t recognize yourself after being with him for long enough.

Of course, he loves you – a sick, messy, disgusting love that he quickly grows addicted to. He finds you irresistible, fascinating and growing drunk off the way your body fits with him, but he’s still a criminal. He’s still a mass murderer, singlehandedly responsible for the deaths of more than he can count, and he will not be suddenly listening to commonplace morals once his feelings for you form.

There’s no such thing as bad to him – he views you as his woman, his partner and his most precious, cherished possession, and as a result he has absolutely no qualms about doing what he wants to you. He’s manipulative, lying to you just as often as he tells the truth, making you feel as if you’re going crazy because you have no idea what’s real and what’s fake.

He’s possessive, slowly isolating you and barring you from any contact at all with anyone he deems a threat to your future with him, or anyone at all, really. He doesn’t want you to grow feelings for another man, and has no issues with cutting off your contact with everyone in your life that you hold dear. He’s always got that same look on his face; a small, prideful smile, his dark eyes so impossibly wide and sparkling as he stares at you, every ounce of his attention focused on you and only you.

He’s terrifying, and while you’ll more than likely develop feelings for him before you know of his true self, you’ll begrudgingly find those feelings doesn’t entirely dissolve even once you know that he’s a crook and a perverted, horrible man who’s stolen you away. You’ll probably still find him charming, still thinking his hair looks soft enough to touch, still finding his hands (littered with a fair share of veins) drool worthy, even when you realize how many have likely died because of them.

You’ll hate yourself for it, but you will eventually find yourself growing just as dependent on Chrollo as he is on you – and really, that’s exactly what he wants. He wants you to need him, to yearn for him and crave him, if only because he feels all that for you and more, and he needs to make sure he has you under his thumb, so that your pretty smile and lovely voice and heavenly body are never not by side.

Things would grow ugly if you were to ever be snatched away from him, corpses piling up and his own sanity slipping away until he can hold you in his arms once more, pressing his lips messily, desperately against yours, hearing you say his name with that lilt you always do.

Chrollo needs you, and it’s best if you just give in – you may essentially be ending your own life, but you’re giving meaning to his and saving so many others. So, so many others.

#yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer #_lee's profiles #_hxh #_chrollo lucilfer

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domreader-headcannon-scenarios · 5 months

Note

Hello! I really love your works sm, can i request a sfw or nsfw head cannons of the angels from WHB? Thank you!!

I’m so glad you liked them!! So I’m tryna write the angels as best I can Gabriel is the only one I’ve met outside of a event, I’ve seen the other two in the Halloween event! I like em but ngl they have…unique kinks I needed to google hifth

I hope you enjoy!!

Over all cw: blaspheme (I think?? ((Angels worshiping you)), death (not main characters), abuse of power

Sfw/nsft hcs on Angels!

Gabriel

Cw: inappropriate boners,

He basically a guard dog standing over your shoulder 24/7 to keep you safe, he calls you his ‘Lord/Lady/Highness’ and has an army of angels who think the same of you

He’s not very affectionate but if you just say ‘hold me/my hand’ or ‘kiss me’ he’d do it in a heart beat. As his God he only wants you pleased

He’s a terrible cook and somehow steals food and is terrifying good at getting away with it (it must be an angel thing??) he dosent even lie saying he made it, he’s just vague where it came from (only once have you caught him in the act and you made him apologize, but the person gave him the food regardless)

He dust a lot in your home and you cant help but notice the ‘home made’ duster he ‘found’ has feathers matching his wings…

Nsft

Canon Kink: Hierophilia; deriving sexual pleasure from religion, religious places and objects as well as find the act itself religious

He enjoys watching you participate in religious activities…maybe too much. He also finds pleasure in treating you as his god.

You jokingly thought of making him go to church, only for him to jump at the chance. He lowkey regretted it when you didn’t touch him, and made him stay squirming in his seat instead of helping him get off. He for whatever reason thought you’d let him jerk off or would touch him yourself as you were holy, nothing you did was wrong but…touching himself in this place is

You’ve actually caught him touching himself to you praying before, he got bashful upon getting caught but you swear you’ve heard him doing it after that, you just don’t catch him in the act (though you’ve caught him awkwardly standing by and adjusting himself)

He’s got a adorablely small and sensitive cock and he genuinely doesn’t need it touched to cum, roll it between your fingers for a few minutes and he’s trembling as he spills out all his cum

Michael

Cw: murder, inappropriate boners

He’s strict with everyone around you, but not you, in his eyes you are the law since he serves only you, you cant do wrong

He’s terrible if you have guest, he demands they now to you and though he’ll settle if you tell him to, he watches them like a hawk and makes sure nothing gets out of hand

You see that leash? If you get mad and pull on it, he will calm down and you have his full attention, give it another tug downwards, and he’ll drop to his knees in front of you, and anyone else in the room

He likes brushing and styling your hair, he’ll try to help you bathe, insisting you don’t need to lift a finger, he will take care of everything, just relax

Nsft

Canon Kink: Erotophonophilia; ‘Muder kink’, deriving sexual gratification from killing or watching someone get killed (BOY IS THIS A HARD KINK TO CASUALLY WORK WOTH)

If push comes to shove he has a habit of killing people who harass you too much/threaten you, but he gets…really excited afterwards and is pressing his thighs together to hide his erection, especially if you’re clearly not in the mood

You’ve seen him get in fights while still aroused from the last kill an honestly, when in public you sometimes just force a chastity cage on him to discourage him acting out

Though he believes self pleasure, or just the act in general is…sinful, he will do anything for you with no qualms, he only feels good when you touch him anyway

He suffered from wet dreams whenever you’re around him or he has objects with your scent

When he want to fool around desperately he will walk right up to you, kneel and beg you to touch his neither regions, stroking, slapping, pinching, doesn’t matter as long as you touch him

Raphael

Cw: messy kitchens, messy person, furniture abuse,

He’s messy and kinda gets annoying at times since he discovered how much fun it is to smash condiment packages

He’s good about cleaning, and he even cooks to make up for the mess…but he’s a sloppy cook too but at least it’s not intentional this time

He doesn’t understand that the furniture isn’t trying to hurt you and doesn’t need to be punished. He’s broken threee tables, one bed post and five chairs since he’s moved to being your ‘Guardian Angel’, all for tripping you or you stubbed your toe on them

He’s not affectionate but he’s not distant, he just follows your lead, he stands close by and if you ask him to come over he flops in your lap and looks up at you like a puppy. He likes when you watch tv and let him lay across your lap, he falls asleep easily that way

Nsft

Canon Kink: Automysophilia; getting sexual gratification from defiling oneself, being dirty or defiled

He enjoys getting messy with cum, blood, dirt, just about anything. He will be blissed if you strip him and cover him in…well it’s up to you ;)

He has no qualms with jerking off in front of you if you don’t want to touch him while he’s too messy, but he wants you to be fully clothed while he’s sprawled out naked in front of you

He’s fucked slime before since it feels…weirdly good around his shaft, to the point he gets excited when he sees it around the house. You had to punish him for thinking he could ‘fool around’ with it then hide it away again

He’s got a very sensitive halo, while other angels get off to them being touched like a devils horns, he avoids it since it brings him to his knees in seconds

#what in hell is bad #whb #Gabriel #Raphael #sub Gabriel #Michael #sub michael #sub raphael #dom reader #Gabriel x reader #raphael x reader #michael x reader #headcannons #nsft #sub whb Gabriel #sub whb Michael #sub whb Raphael

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pedantic-poison · 8 months

Text

golden | MS47

GIF by brawn-gp

pairing: black cat gf! fem reader x golden retriever bf! mick schumacher

warnings: fluff! and also a brief but very explicit mention of oral (f receiving) and p in v (oops lol)

requested: yes!

word count: 0.9k

author's note: second time posting this because the first time it didn't show up in the tags at all so thanks for that tumblr! anyways yes this IS so extremely inspired by the song daylight by taylor swift not that anyone asked but the second i read the request i couldn't help it

you'd met at a party, where you'd been standing quietly in a corner, drink in your hand, content to just mind your business without talking to anyone until you'd been there long enough that you wouldn't feel bad leaving

it was some friend's birthday, not close enough that you had to spend most of the night with them, but you like them enough to make an appearance, even though you hated parties

Mick, golden boy that he is, was the center of attention without really meaning to be

talking to everyone like they were an old friend he'd known for years, and at some point he looked up and realized that you were the only person in the room who he hadn't spoken to

he didn't even know your name, actually

and he couldn't help himself, he was just too curious, and he thought you were so gorgeous, he figured it was better to just go talk to you than to stare at you with heart eyes from across the room

Mick is such a sunshine boy that even when other people sometimes find you a little standoffish, when he first saw you, he just adored you right away

wasn't intimidated by you at all he was just completely enamored

initially, you were a little overwhelmed by him, kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop and show that it was an act

how sweet he was, how kind, how considerate, the way he would listen to you so intently, like the moment you opened your mouth to finally speak the rest of the world faded away

you just couldn't believe that he was being genuine, that he really cared about you that way

but the look on his face when he's watching you is so earnest

he didn't mind that at first you weren't very talkative, or that it took a little while for you to really trust that his affection for you was real

besides, he can talk enough for the both of you anyways

you finally had to confront just how much you cared about him because of the shit show with Haas

more than once Mick had to talk you down from personally fighting G*nter on his behalf

and once you finally let those walls down and let him in? Mick was stuck to you like glue

he'd come home, or back to your shared hotel room, after a long day during race weekends and just collapse onto you, laying his head on your chest while you'd scratch his head or his back

he fell asleep like that, on top of you, more than a few times

sometimes you weren't really sure what to do or say, but Mick would just assure you that you were making him feel better, that you were doing everything right, even when he was the one who needed comfort

and when you have a bad day at work or school?

that man pampers you like a princess

he literally will not let you do ANYTHING for yourself

and you don't even have to tell him that you had a rough day, he can just see it in your face the moment you walk through the door

he gives you these mini lectures about asking for help when you need it, reminding you that you help him when he has a tough time, and that it's only fair for him to get to return the favor

if you ever try to tell him that he's already so sweet to you, all the time, he won't hear it

just ushers you towards the couch or bed with your favorite blanket in hand

he'll have you lie back against his chest, nestled in between his legs, so he can wrap his arms around you and hold you to him, tight and comforting

whispering sweet nothings into your ear, planting kisses on the top of your head

bubble baths, your favorite foods and shows, holding your book in front of your face for you so your arms don't get tired, kissing the back of your neck or your shoulder each time he turns the page

supporting your body with his as he finger fucks you until you're shaking, caging you in with those big, buff arms and his warm body, your legs draped over his so he can keep them open for him, surrounding you and overwhelming all of your senses, so all you can feel or think of is him, his free hand roaming your body, massaging your tits and reaching up to cradle your throat so he can tilt your head back to give him better access

or making you ride his face so you can make yourself feel good, until you've cum so many times and so hard that you can barely see straight, and then fucking you into the mattress, deep and slow, whispering words of praise about how you're doing so well for him, how you feel so good, looking so pretty while you take his cock like a good girl

when you're overthinking and can't stop worrying about something, and his usual pampering tricks don't work, he'll just fuck you dumb, make you go mindless with pleasure so that you can't think period

he hates having to be away from you for race weekends, even now that he's with mercedes and isn't fighting for his life every weekend

even when you're both busy, he'll always manage to make time for you, dropping in and surprising you, even if it's only for a few days before he's off to the next track

he's also completely immune to any of your usual attempts at self-sabotage

he doesn't let you lash out at him or start fights or have huge blow out arguments

he just wants to give you the whole world

and you just want him

because his love isn't black and white, or burning red

it's golden

like daylight

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oddballwriter · 8 months

Note

hello! Could i please request a one shot where Steven and Marc know about Jake's existence and they have been trying to get used to him and get to know him, and during a mission where they need help they found out Jake has been having like a long term relationship with the reader (who is Sekhmet's avatar)

And Steven its totally freaking out but also crushing on her but Marc its like "wtf how long has this been going on?"

Unexpected Addition

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

Part Two

Summary: Life with a new addition is a bit tricky, but Steven and Marc are getting the hang of having Jake around. But what they don't expect is that Jake has a bit of a life of his own, including a love. Which sort of adds another addition.

Warnings: The boys are fighting. Steven being a love sick puppy. Marc is kind of a dick in this not gonna lie. Mentions of some factors of D.I.D. . It's mentioned that Jake told reader about Marc's past, to a degree. There's some arguing about you and Jake being a thing for so long and kind of referenced that you and Jake technically overlap with Marc and Layla by a hair.

This fic is actually more of Steven just having a big stinkin' crush on you and Jake and Marc yelling at each other.

Author’s Snip: I feel like this is good but not completely on the mark. Anon, if you want to throw me another scenario that's Jake centric with this idea/world then feel free. Just give me a sign.

Notes: I semi-proof read this so if there's weird grammar and shit just ignore it.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

Jake was a surprise. Well, in the logic of common D.I.D. systems not really, but in the sense that neither Steven nor Marc knew he was there. It felt like a bit of a privacy breach to think that Jake's just watched everything go down from the shadows only to leave as soon as he came, and it was a bit unnerving to know that Jake was more off the hinges. But it's not like they could really do anything about him. Jake's a part of the system, whether they like it or not.

Jake honestly wasn't that much of a change up though. He usually did his own things and kept in his lane for the most part. Even if his tactics were more... forceful than Marc and Steven's were. Otherwise Jake would be something of an allusive one. He didn't seem to do much but they had a hunch that there was more than just Jake Lockley, the third alter, cabbie by daylight, and system parachute and low key Khonshu's hitman. And there was.

Because there was you.

Marc and Steven found out about you because they were on a mission that Khonshu demanded that they do. And it turns out Sekhmet had the same idea for you.

It wasn't like the two were in on it and it was a ruse to get you to meet the others. It was genuinely just an "Oops, did know you were gonna get it." sort of thing.

"Jake? Wasn't expecting a surprise team up with you. Usually boyfriends surprise their girlfriends flowers." you laugh under your breath as you try to not catch any unwanted attention. You didn't need anymore than the " Excuse me?" from Marc to know that it wasn't Jake you've bumped into. "I'll explain once we get this done. Just follow my lead for now." you say as you move on with what you were planning on doing.

"Okay... so..." you roll out trying to think of what to say after having just handled the mission, and now sitting at an empty park bench in your regular clothes, "My name is Y/N. What's yours?" you settle on as you lift your hand for a handshake, trying your best to have a non-nervous smile. "How do you know about Jake?" Marc asked, ignoring your polite gesture of formality.

"Marc. That is so rude. She's trying to be nice." Steven scolded from the puddle at his feet.

"Me and Jake are... together." you mumble out. "How?" Marc demanded. He looked so angry and menacing while he interrogated you. You've seen a lot of mean looking guys but when it's the face of someone you recognize as your boyfriend, you felt a bit trapped by the tense energy. You barely squeak out "I met him a while back.".

"Marc, if you just let me explain without making a scene it'll all make sense." you quickly speak out before he almost interrupts you, "How do you know my name. You were acting like you didn't know it a seco-".

Marc violently twitches before the tense scowl on his face disappears and is replaced with a softer worried expression after a second less violent twitch.

He looks at you, he sees that you looks a bit frightened, and then he speaks, with a British accent "I'm sorry about that... that-that wasn't me. I didn't switch us." he says, "Must have been-" he tries to say before you speak. "Steven, right?" you ask in a soft voice. He's caught a bit off guard that you said his name. He points to himself with a "Me?" and nods "Yeah.".

You stare at each other for a bit before you speak up. "Jake hasn't told you about me, I know. He just barely started being known to you guys and he didn't want to rush anything. I understood that and did my best to stay clear so that I wouldn't shock you two but I knew that there would be a fumble at some point." you explain.

Steven listens intently till you're done. It was either that or listening to Marc and Jake yell at each other in the reflection of the puddles.

"I only know about you guys because he wanted me to be ready when the time came for him to think that it was a good time for us to actually meet. I didn't mean to throw any of you through a loop like that. It's just been a while since I've seen him and I got excited." you apologize as you explain more.

"It's okay , love. It's just that we hardly know anything about Jake and finding out something so personal was a bit jarring." Steven says. You feel a little flutter at being called "love" for a second before Steven speaks again. He subconsciously touched your hand. "And I'm sincerely sorry about Marc's behavior. You were being courteous and he was acting like you were a danger when you were making it clear that your and Jake had some type of acquaintance." he apologized.

"It's okay." you comment. "Jake told me that Marc would be a bit... apprehensive about me. That's just how he is." you add.

"And me?" Steven questions with a bit of curiosity to what Jake might have said about him. "He said that if I meet you then you might be a bit flighty. Said that you were easy to spook." you say in a bit of a laugh.

Steven got to see more of you after that. You would spend some time to get to know each other more, which Jake approved of. He thought it was nice to see the two parts of his life that he kept separate finally meet. It was kind of like having cats meet for the first time where you watch them interact and then get comfortable with each other.

Steven, admittedly, and a bit too obviously, took a huge liking towards you. And you the same. You were fascinated with the other. He liked hearing about what you did as the avatar of Sekhmet and what that entailed for you both in mission and personal life. Along with what you just did in your regular civilian life. As for you, you were amazed to see a person who acted, talked, and even moved so differently than the person you usually associated his face and body with.

Unfortunately, you and Marc weren't taking to each other too nicely. Well, you were still perfectly friendly towards him any time you saw him. It was Marc who wasn't very enchanted by you.

Matter of fact, he and Jake were still at it with each other.

"How long has this been a thing?" Marc asked with the same demanding voice he did to you. "Three years." Jake answered in a nonchalant tone. "Three years?!" Marc repeated, unpleasantly surprised by the answer. Jake scoffed "Didn't she say we've known each other for a while?" Jake mentioned.

"So you've just been seeing this random woman for three years behind our back-? Behind Layla's back?" Marc fumbled out with anger. "You," Jake interrupted, "- Sent divorce papers to Layla. Not me." Jake clarified. "Not to mention. She was your wife. You made it very clear to Steven that she was off limits and I already knew that she was off limits. So sorry I went and found my own woman instead of hitting up yours." Jake quipped.

"Yeah and now it seems like Steven likes yours too." Marc said making his own quip.

"Good!" Jake bursted, "At least he's courteous enough to treat her with some respect and get to know her.". Marc would have spoken again but just beat him to it. "You're acting like I was going to hide you from each other forever. I would have had you two meet at some point once you were used to me. You three just met earlier then I would have liked." Jake explained.

"Did she know about Layla?" Marc asked. "Of course I told her about Layla! I was open and honest about my situation and what that would spell out for our relationship." Jake answered with an emphasis on the words open and honest. "How much did you tell her about us?" Marc demanded again before Jake exploded.

"Everything!" Jake barked. "I told her fucking everything I could! I told her about you. About Steven. Layla. Our condition. Everything about us, she knows. I wanted her to be ready for when you cross paths. I told her how to behave and what to watch out for so that she wouldn't startle either of you. And you know what? She did! She was going to explain everything to you if you would just let her fucking speak instead of grill her like that." Jake lectured.

Listening to the two fight was something that Steven would usually ignore. It seemed like arguing while getting to know each other was a thing in the system. Usually Steven would intervene if it was getting too bad or he was brought into it. But neither of those caught his attention because he was busy paying attention to you. Again.

"You look so different." you say almost out of the blue. "Excuse me." Steven spoke. "You look so different from Jake even though it's the same body." you remark.

"You have such different eyes. Yours are all doe eyed and round. Jake has a resting angry face. It's so weird." you smile. "And you smile different too. Jake only smiles a little and with the corner of his mouth, so it looks like a smirk. You smile with your cheeks." you add.

Steven flustered and felt shy under your gaze. The way you were talking didn't speak ill of neither him or Jake. You were speaking in admiration at what made them so different.

"You also don't have the little paperboy hat or gel." you point out as you look at the curls on his head. "Jake usually wears a little bit of gel to slick back some of his hair. I sometimes forget just how curly it is." you say as you gently reach to play with a few little curls. Steven honestly felt like he should be coughing up wings by now with the amount of butterflies he had going in his stomach and chest as you touched him. Even if it was just to admire him for a moment.

He did feel a bit guilty for enjoying your words and affirmation a little too much. He wasn't entirely sure if Jake would act the same as Marc did when he accidentally made contact with Layla. But then again, he hasn't had Jake barging in and being defensive about you. It felt weird to think about it this way but at least Jake was, seemingly, sharing. That or he's too focused on Marc when he's not the one fronting.

Steven did wish that Marc was nicer to you and more open to meeting you. You were very sweet and treated them nicely.

Maybe Marc would get to see you look at him and complement all the details about him like his eyes and his smile. You could get to know him and what he likes and how that contrasts with you. maybe you two could get used to fighting together in the cases that you bump into each other again.

#moon knight #moonknight #moon knight x reader #moonknight x reader #steven grant #steven grant x reader #marc spector #marc spector x reader #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader

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cinnbar-bun · 3 months

Text

Popularity- Cross Guild's Day Off 2 (Cross Guild x Reader)

Summary: In which you work with the three Cross Guild officers and Buggy attempts to prove his popularity through a poll. Of course, it's never as simple as it really should be in Cross Guild.

Rating: SFW/Crack

Word Count: ~3k

Notes: No relationships are defined, so feel free to headcanon whatever you want. I know it says x Reader up there and I wrote it in mind that it's a weird ass polycule but I made sure to leave it ambiguous for your reading pleasure. Made in mind with part 1, but can be read as standalone. Features cameos from Alvida, Galdino, and Daz Bones.

A/n: I love these three goofballs so like feel free to request stuff with them or what scenarios you'd like to see them in please???

Read Part 1 here! Read this chapter on my AO3 here!

“It’s really not fair! It’s not fair at all!” Buggy screamed. Mihawk, Crocodile, and you sighed at whatever it was that seemed to be, well, bugging Buggy.

“Will you stop your complaining? Some of us are actually trying to do work here,” Crocodile growled while his fingers continued clicking away on the calculator. “(Y/n), go and hand me the reports for-,”

“Right here, Sir,” you said as you handed him the stack of papers he wanted. Crocodile smirked proudly while his eyes narrowed at Buggy.

“See, why can’t you be like (Y/n)? They know how to get work done.”

“Wha-! I get work done! Plenty of work!”

“Juggling isn’t work.”

“Is too!” Buggy stomped his foot.

“Hardly,” Mihawk chimes in.

“Grrr… you two are just jealous of me! Jealous of how I’m the Star Clown and you two will just be boring, old men!”

Mihawk and Crocodile glanced at each other knowingly and rolled their eyes.

“You’re still bothered by the fact you were not important enough to have any good cards in the deck, aren't you?” Mihawk states bluntly, not bothering to be gentle with Buggy’s fragile ego.

“SHUT UP!!! SHUT UP!!!!” Buggy shouted, gaining the attention from his subordinates outside the office.

“Aw… someone’s upset,” Crocodile teased. You huffed at the two stoic ex-warlords and tried to soothe Buggy.

“Buggy, it’s alright. They’re just silly cards. Look around you, you have so many employees happy to work for you because they really admire you as captain,” you say genuinely while patting his head. Buggy sniffles and nods.

“You’re right, (Y/n), you’re right,” Buggy agrees. He wipes his eyes and nose with his hand before he bounces back to life, clenching his fists. “That’s very true! All these people love me and would die for me! So those card makers don’t know anything! I’m the most popular one here!”

“Wait, what…” you wince, while Crocodile and Mihawk groan.

“Thanks, (Y/n), now he’s gonna do something stupid again,” Crocodile sighed.

“Buggy, all I’m saying is-” you try to fix your error, but Buggy shakes his head.

“Nope! You just gave me an amazing idea!”

“Here we go again,” Mihawk mumbles.

“W-what’s the idea?” You ask Buggy.

“Obviously, to really settle the matter, we need to hold a popularity contest!” Buggy proclaims.

“We really don’t have to. No one cares about this except you,” Crocodile says blandly while he opens the folder you gave him.

“Haha! You’re just saying that because you know deep down that I will win when it comes to Cross Guild!” Buggy eggs Crocodile on. “They love me here!”

“I really don’t care-”

“So, to finally gather once and for all who the most popular is-”

“God damn it.”

“I’m going to poll the others!” Buggy announces, grabbing a random clipboard from your desk.

“Isn’t that rather biased?” Mihawk asked.

“Biased? What are you talking about?” Buggy raises his brow. “You think Imma lie about this?”

“Yes,” all of you respond. Buggy lets out an offended gasp and frowns.

“Well then, what do you suggest, smart guy?” Buggy yells at Mihawk.

“Having only you go around and then return with results will obviously not be the most accurate. We need to send a third party that won’t lie,” Mihawk explains.

The three men turn to look at you.

“Why do I have to do it?” You fold your arms. “I have work to do!”

“I’ll pay you extra for this week in order to have Buggy shut up,” Crocodile states.

“Do you think I can be swayed so easily with money?”

“Yes,” the three men respond. You swipe the clipboard from Buggy.

“Damn right I am,” you state as you pick up your favorite pen from your desk.

“Now then, since you’re going to be polling, I expect truthful and honest answers,” Mihawk demands. “No one can lie or cheat this.”

“Before we do this, none of you are allowed to know who voted for who,” you add. “I’m not having you fire or hunt down some poor employee because they voted for Mihawk or something.” “Well that won’t happen,” Buggy comments. “No one is gonna vote for Mihawk to begin with.”

Now it’s Mihawk’s turn to be offended. “What do you mean by that, Buggy? Do I need to silence you for good?”

“Eek! All I’m saying is, you hardly ever step out of the office or interact with anyone!”

Mihawk stays silent then mumbles, “I interact with others…”

“Oh really? Name one person you’ve interacted with,” Crocodile demands.

“You can’t do that, either,” Mihawk counters.

“That’s just because I don’t give a shit about these people’s names. I still talk to them, though,” Crocodile corrects.

“Fine, (Y/n)!” Mihawk huffs.

“They don’t count.”

“Why don’t they?” Mihawk crosses his arms.

“Because we all see them every day in this office,” Crocodile chides Mihawk. “Name someone.”

“Okay, I guess I cannot name anyone,” Mihawk relents. “Not that it matters in the slightest, by the way. This is a silly and pointless little game.”

“See? No one is gonna vote for you!” Buggy laughs.

“I guess I should kill you now, Buggy,” Mihawk says as he draws Yoru.

“Gaaaahhh! No! Please don’t!” Buggy cries, latching onto you for safety.

“Buggy, please let go,” you sigh. The clown does so shakily and you begin to write on the paper in your clipboard. “Okay… Buggy, Crocodile, Mihawk. There we go. I’ll go around and ask, then. See you guys later.”

“Before you go,” Crocodile begins. You turn to hear him out while he has a big shit-eating grin on his face. “If you’re going to talk to Mr. 3… knock before you enter.”

Your eyes practically bulge out of their sockets from what this could mean as you nod and exit the office.

“Why the hell did you say that?” Buggy questions. Crocodile chuckles, taking a puff from his cigar as he shakes his head.

“Oh, they’ll see soon enough.”

“Favorite head of Cross Guild?” An employee scratches his head. His coworker beside him does the same.

“Wait, uh, they’re not gonna kill us for answering this, are they?” The other one asks.

“Crap, you’re right. Is this some way to weed us out or something?”

You shake your head. “No, no, not at all! This is just a… uh… thing they’re testing for some new merchandise,” you lie.

“Ah,” the two men nod along. “That makes so much sense.”

“Buggy,” the first man states.

“Mmm… yeah, Buggy,” the second adds. “He never harps on us like Sir Crocodile.”

You thank them for the response and tally it to the votes.

“I guess Buggy was right,” you mumble to yourself, seeing as he currently had seven votes out of the seven people you asked. “Maybe we could send these results in to those cardmakers and get a cut of the merchandising.”

Just as you’re about to walk away, Alvida strolls into the room.

“Oh, Alvida! Good morning,” you smile at her. “Can I have a moment of your time?” “(Y/n), dear,” Alvida runs a hand through her hair. “What do you need from the most beautiful woman of the sea?”

“Well, the higher-ups wanted to run a poll,” you show her the paper. “Please vote for your favorite head of Cross Guild.”

She studies the paper for a moment and purses her lips. “Hmm… you know what, I vote for you.”

“What?”

“What? Just put a tally for you,” Alvida suggests nonchalantly.

“But, um, I’m not a head of Cross Guild,” you argue.

“So? You practically are their fourth one. I’m sure they won’t mind. And if they do, they can take it up with me,” Alvida brushes your concerns aside and takes the pen from you. She writes your name down and adds a tally.

“Can I ask why you want to add me?”

“Simple, dear.” Alvida chuckles. “You’re not like those brutes upstairs. You get worked to the bone by them yet still retain your own sense of self. Do you know what that is?”

“No, I don’t think I know what that is-”

“Passion!” Alvida throws her arms in the air. “You are passionate, clean, stylish, and most of all, you are quiet! If anyone is worthy of my vote and attention- it is you!”

“Wow, thank you,” you comment, impressed that Alvida actually gave you a nice compliment.

“Yes, yes, well, what do you think about becoming my assistant instead of working for them?” Alvida winks.

“Ah sorry, I’m pretty happy where I am right now,” you quickly shut down. Alvida clicks her tongue.

“Hm… perhaps you’d prefer to be my partner instead? You would be a good match by my side.”

“Would you look at the time!” You awkwardly laugh. “Bye, Alvida!”

“Bye, darling. Don’t worry though, we’ll pick this conversation up another time~,” she waves. You sigh in relief as you walk away that she didn’t mace you immediately. Still, there’s work to be done.

You walk into the staff lounge and greet the other members there, who cheerfully greet you back.

“Sorry to bother you guys, but if you could just fill out this poll, that would be great. And don’t worry, no one will know of the results, so please be as honest as you can!”

The clipboard gets passed along by the staff members, who quickly add a tally mark to the poll. In less than a minute, all twenty people in the lounge have responded.

“Wow, thank you guys. You guys are quick,” you joke, taking back the clipboard.

“The choice was obvious,” one of the employees answers, and the others nod. You wonder who they voted for when you look at the paper, only to see your name has now over twenty marks attached to it. Your eyes widen and you politely thank the others as you step out of the room.

It was one thing when Alvida did as she pleased, but now the others were voting for you in droves. You took a deep breath. Crocodile, Mihawk, and Buggy surely wouldn’t kill you for this, would they? After all, Alvida herself said they could bring it up with her. Yeah, that was okay. This was just a silly joke anyways.

You continue to collect polls, feeling touched yet also nervous when you found that every employee had checked you off as their favorite. It got so bad that you had to use a second page to collect all the tallies that the employees were adding to your name.

As the number of employees left to ask dwindled, you remembered to get Daz Bones and Galdino’s polls. You figured the choice would be clear for them- Crocodile. After all, they were very loyal to him and even continued their work relationship into Cross Guild. It would also allow for Crocodile to at least get some vote from his current tally at zero.

You had scoured for them all around the base, but didn’t find any sign of their presence. Just as you were about to give up, you found Daz Bones peacefully sitting, probably waiting for his next assignment.

“Daz! Can I-”

“(Y/n), I have no interest,” he cut you off.

“It’s for Crocodile,” you add, knowing he wouldn’t participate otherwise. Daz nods and then urges you to step closer. You show him the clipboard and he raises a brow.

“Crocodile really cares about this sort of thing?”

“It’s mostly because of Buggy,” you explain, and Daz nods, connecting the dots. He quickly tallies a mark to Crocodile’s name. “Thank you, Daz!”

“You’re welcome,” he gruffly responds.

“Oh, and do you know where Galdino is?”

“Why should I know? Perhaps he’s in his room,” Daz shrugs. You should’ve guessed that but wave goodbye and walk to Galdino’s room. You’re about to knock when you remember Crocodile’s ominous warning echoing in your head again.

“Knock before you enter…”

You were going to do that anyways, but the weird way Crocodile said it made you grimace. You nervously rapped your knuckles against Galdino’s door. You heard a huff and a lot of grumbling as Galdino swung open the door.

“What do you w-,” he angrily yells until he gasps when he sees it’s you. “(Y/n)! Ah! Uh! Please excuse me!”

You briefly notice a large wax statue on the table before Galdino slams the door on your face. You jump when you hear Galdino freaking out and throwing things around his studio. Something metal is grating against the floor as you hear Galdino struggle to move the obviously heavy object.

“G-Galdino? Is this a bad time?” You call out.

“No, no, no! It’s fine! Perfectly fine! Hahaha there’s nothing weird going on here!” Galdino answers from inside his room as something crashes to the floor and Galdino swears.

It’s silent for a moment until Galdino opens the door, leaning against the frame and trying to give you a charming smile while some wax is now splattered against his pants and shirt.

“So, (Y/n), what brings you to my studio?” He asks while forcing his voice to sound lower, pushing up his glasses.

“Ah, the heads wanted to take a little poll. Mind answering?”

“Anything for- I mean-,” Galdino coughs and lowers his voice again. “Anything for you, (Y/n).”

He takes the clipboard from you and begins to notice the options, quickly marking a tally next to your name.

“There you go- wait a minute!” He looks horrified as realization sets in that there’s only one tally next to Crocodile- most likely Daz, he thinks. Crocodile would absolutely know right away that Galdino didn’t choose him, and the thought makes Galdino nearly pass out. “I-I need to change my vote!”

“Sure,” you give the clipboard back to him and Galdino scribbles over the one he gave you to mark one next to Crocodile.

“Kh... but we’re supposed to be honest…” Galdino mutters. He glances at you, and seeing you patiently waiting and smiling at him makes his heart tighten.

Gah! Who am I supposed to choose?! My muse or my boss?!

“Are you alright, Galdino?” You asked, making Galdino struggle to form words. Instead, he scribbled over the mark he put next to Crocodile and re-marked a tally next to your name.

He hands the clipboard back to you and you smile and wave to him. “Thank you, Galdino!”

“Y-you’re very welcome!” Galdino shouts, unable to control his voice properly around you. You turn around and head back to the office while Galdino lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He was most likely going to die after this, but seeing your smile was all worth it. He could die happy, even knowing that Crocodile would probably drain him of life later.

You, however, didn’t notice the longing look Galdino gave you as you open the door to the office.

“Well, I got all the votes!”

“Well, who won?” Buggy immediately jumps forward and steals the clipboard from you. He notices that Crocodile and Mihawk hardly have any, with only Crocodile have a mark. “See I wo…”

His face darkened as he noticed he had only seven votes.

“What’s the matter, Buggy?” Crocodile smirked. “Can’t handle the fact you lost?”

“I… wha…” Buggy grips the clipboard roughly, nearly snapping it in half. “How the hell did (Y/n) get all the votes!?”

Crocodile and Mihawk are caught off guard.

“Wait, what? (Y/n) won?” Crocodile repeated.

“I thought I told you to be fair and not cheat!” Mihawk accused you, his golden hawk eyes glaring into yours.

“I-it wasn’t my fault! Alvida was the one who put my name on the list!” You try to defend yourself.

“Give me that-” Crocodile snaps as he swipes the poll from Buggy’s hand. Crocodile grunts as he notices page after page marked with tallies from the employees choosing you. He sees Mihawk has none, but that his name has one mark (Daz, of course), and one crossed off (that bastard, Galdino-). Given Crocodile’s attentiveness, he does recognize that yours and Alvida’s handwriting is different, so your story is credible. He huffs and tosses the clipboard, making Mihawk lean over curiously.

“Not even one vote…” he murmurs.

Buggy, meanwhile, is distraught, crying on the floor and banging it repeatedly.

“It’s not fair! Not fair at all! I hate this! I’m the star!” Buggy wails out loud.

At first, Crocodile did this as a joke to satiate Buggy, but even his own ego is hurt by this new poll.

“I take it back, you’re getting docked again,” Crocodile threatens, pointing his cigar at you.

“What?! But I spent all day getting this with the promise of money!”

“I changed my mind! I wanted a good poll, not whatever the hell this was!” Crocodile yells back.

“Recount! Recount this!” Buggy shouts.

“I refuse to lose this competition. Give me an hour, I will win this,” Mihawk says, pushing himself off his couch as he walks out the door to do who knows what.

The ensuing commotion causes some of the Cross Guild members to peek through the door and watch Buggy screaming in agony at losing while you’re sobbing at the fact you’re losing money due to this dumb poll.

Alvida rolls her eyes and crosses her arms.

“Would you guys cut this noise out? It’s driving me mad!”

“Alvida! This is all your fault!” Buggy yells at Alvida in tears. “I was supposed to win, not (Y/n)!”

Alvida frowns at Buggy and twirls her mace in her hands. “Are you questioning my decisions?”

Buggy gulps as he sees the mace casting a shadow over him.

“N-no, not at all!” He quickly corrects himself, praying Alvida will not maim him to death.

“That’s what I thought.”

#one piece x reader #one piece #one piece oneshots #crocodile x reader #sir crocodile #dracule mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #buggy x reader #buggy the clown #sir crocodile x reader #cross guild #cross guild x reader #cross guild's day off #x reader #reader insert

274 notes · View notes

savventeen · 9 months

Text

you say the stupidest (sweetest) things

pairing: seungkwan x gn!reader rating: 16+ (for swearing) wc: 4.5k prompt: seungkwan + "things you said at 1am" summary: you say stupid shit on the best of days, so when seungkwan comes over when you're having a bad bout of insomnia, the last thing he expects to hear from you is an accidental love confession warnings: insomnia, mental health issues, dissociation mention tags: fluff, friends to lovers, first kiss, reader is a little unhinged but who isn't tbh, they're also highkey allergic to genuine expressions of love/affection but they're working on it, banter, stimming, wrestling like children to try and work through emotions, reader is some flavor of lgbt+ (they make an "i've never done anything straight in my life" joke), reader's pov is dramatic bc they're dramatic oops a/n: this is for @dokyeomin as a part of my emergency commissions (check out the post here) and this was only supposed to be 1k but it 100% got away from me... i hope you still enjoy the fluff and all of the attached nonsense <3

From: Y/n 🔪 [11:47pm]

yo kwannie if i impulsively decide to go to the 24h convenience store how harshly do u think they'll jusdge me for buying every flavor of gummy candy available *judge i wanna see if i can melt them down into one Ultimate Gummy u know for Science

Seungkwan pauses brushing his teeth and stares down at your messages.

To be fair, it's probably not the strangest thing you've ever texted him. He's known you since your second year of college, after all, so he has about half a decade of experience with all of your various y/n-isms under his belt now.

Which is how he knows to trust his gut when it tells him that this probably isn't your usual brand of nonsense.

He spits the toothpaste into the sink and dials your number. You answer on the second ring.

“Before you say anything,” you start, “I was only half-serious about the gummies thing. Like, it's a fun idea, you know? In theory. But in actuality? I do not want to deal with the mess that it would create. Or the smells. Well, the smells might actually be pretty good depending on—“

“Uh-huh,” he interrupts dryly. “Y/n, when's the last time you slept?”

The beat of silence that follows is enough to confirm his suspicions, and the hesitant “Um” that follows is just the icing on the cake, really.

He sighs. “The fact that you have to think about it says enough.”

“I don’t need to think about it,” you argue petulantly. “I just… don’t wanna tell you.”

“Y/n...” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Look, I know, I'm sorry.” And you do sound a little bit sorry, at least. “I'm just. Having an episode. Don't worry about it.”

His shoulders droop as the words sink in. “Episodes” are what you've taken to calling your intermittent bouts of serious insomnia.

Generally speaking, you sleep about as well as the average twenty-something with a caffeine addiction. But every few months or so, it's like your brain completely forgets how to shut off and you end up staying awake for 40+ hours straight.

“Well,” he says, putting his toothbrush away and going back to his bedroom. “You know that ship has sailed, right? You know I'm gonna worry about it.”

Your deep sigh crackles over the line. “Yeah, I know.”

“So. Where're we at this time?”

He mentally braces himself. The two of you have done this enough times now that he knows that you know there's no point in trying to lie or beat around the bush.

“Uhhhhhhh, I'll be hitting the 46-hour mark in about 20 minutes.”

“Aish.”

The fact that you can say that so casually makes his heart hurt. He knows that whenever he doesn't get enough sleep, he makes sure everyone knows it and thus babies him accordingly. But you've always been so intent on hiding anything and everything you struggle with. It's taken years for him to bully himself past the walls you keep hidden behind shit-eating grins and an over-willingness to help.

“Okay,” he says, moving to the dresser to grab an extra set of clothes. “I'll be over in an hour.”

“Wait. What?”

“You heard me.” He tosses the clothes onto his bed before going to grab one of his duffle bags, firmly asserting, “You've got an hour to mentally prepare yourself for my arrival.”

“Honey, you've got a big storm comin',” you quote at him without hesitating.

“You sure do,” he assures with a snort. “Better get ready to feel the wrath of my friendship.”

“Why do you have to love so aggressively?”

He rolls his eyes while he throws his clothes into the duffle bag with one hand. “Because it's the only way you'll accept it, idiot.”

“No, it isn't.”

Your pout is so audible through the phone that Seungkwan has to stop and glance at the screen in disbelief.

“Y/n. Y/n L/n. Do not stand there and lie to my face like that.”

“I'm not lying!”

“Not—” He gesticulates wildly with one hand like he's going Can you believe this shit? to an invisible TV audience. “Okay, tell me this: what did you do the last time I sincerely monologued at you about how much you mean to me as a friend, hmm? No bits, no bullshit, just me telling you how much I love you and how amazing you are.”

A beat. “I'll hang up on you, Kwannie, don't test me.”

He barely resists the urge to shove his face into the bedspread and scream. “You're literally proving my point right now!”

“Kwannieeee,” you whine, because you know he's right.

“Also, because I'm never letting you live it down, I will remind you exactly what you did."

You say his name again, but it's muffled, and he assumes it's because you're hiding your face in shame.

“I gave you a sincere, heartfelt speech about how much your friendship has changed my life for the better and made me become a better person—” he ignores your wordless pterodactyl screech, “—and how do you respond? By staring at me like a deer caught in the headlights, slowly raising your arms to give me double finger guns, winking, and then slowly backing out of the room like an awkward mannequin!”

“...”

“Well?” He puts his free hand on his hip. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“… I’ve changed a lot since then.”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes before moving to continue packing his overnight bag. “It was literally three months ago.”

“Yeah, and? Doesn't change the fact that I've changed,” you assert.

“Into even more of a nuisance? Yes, you're absolutely right.” He smiles when he hears you scoff playfully.

“Listen here, Boo Seungkwan. You know that well-rested Y/n is ready to throw down with you at a moment's notice. What do you think sleep-deprived, zero-impulse-control Y/n is going to do the second you get to their front door?”

“Stop referring to themself in the third person, hopefully,” he mutters, finally zipping up his bag and heading to the door. “And then after that, they're going to let me bully them into resting.”

“Hmm. The council has heard your proposal, briefly pondered it, and deemed it “unnecessary” on the basis of: they're a bad bitch that can't be stopped by neither time nor physics nor any god of your choosing.”

Seungkwan scoffs as he puts the call on speaker and sits to put on his sneakers. “Well, “the council” can go fuck right off.”

“What if the council would like to fuck right on?”

Pausing in the middle of tying his laces, he blinks down at his phone. “I'm— what?”

“Okay, real talk, what do you think it would mean in this case? Like, would this be like a 'hop on' versus 'hop off' situation? Or more like an 'I'm down for this' versus 'I'm up for this' kinda situation? Because it would have very different outcomes depending.”

Seungkwan decides that this is a debate better left for another time. “I think it means that I'm going to be at your house soon and that if you're not in your pajamas with hot Sleepy Time tea and the series Planet Earth ready to go, there will be consequences.”

“Booooooo, you whore.”

He finishes tying his laces and jabs his finger at the phone. “Consequences, Y/n.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“See you soon, love you, bye.” He hangs up before you can get another word in, but doesn't move from his seated position in the entryway.

Slowly, he takes a deep breath in and lets it out, taking a moment to lean back on his hands while he stares at the back of his front door. Specifically, at the large collage of sticky notes and pictures and doodles that have taken up residence there.

A few of the notes are ones he's gotten from other members of your shared friend group over the years (the one from Chan that reads "if u eat my rice i'll eat ur kneecaps xoxo" hangs proudly in the center, right next to a picture of him sleeping that Seungkwan managed to capture from an extremely unflattering angle). But most of them are from you.

Dumb puns, meme references, bullshit animal facts you made up just to get him to laugh… almost all of them are stupid in that extremely charming way that only you somehow manage to pull off.

But the one he's staring at now is almost completely hidden by other notes and pictures that have been added to the collage. It's a pale blue, the ink starting to fade a bit with time — the first note you ever gave him, back when you two were just people who happened to sit next to each other in an astronomy class.

Even though most of it is hidden, he doesn't need to be able to see all the tiny words you crammed into the small space to already know exactly what it says.

how do u make a space party? u planet :P u looked sad today, hope this makes u feel a little better also if this is 2 forward feel free 2 pretend i don't exist. or punt me in2 the sun idk u'd be doing me a favor tbh

He'd almost skipped class that day because of how bad he'd been feeling, but he'd decided to try and push through. And before that day, neither of you had interacted with more than a polite greeting and the occasional question about the homework.

But then you'd passed him that note, and he'd passed one back that said “that's dumb. but thank you” with a smiley face, and you'd passed another one back that said “do u think lizard people have ever been to space?” and the rest, they say, is history.

Seungkwan shakes his head with a sigh before standing up and grabbing his bag and his keys, striding determinedly out the door. He's got a best friend to take care of.

Seungkwan should be at your place soon, and you're not quite sure what to do in the meantime.

You have your laptop hooked up to the monitor in the living room with Planet Earth queued up, you have the kettle filled with water and ready to go on the stove, and you have mugs and teabags ready on the counter next to it.

The Required Tasks™️ have been completed as much as possible without the arrival of your best friend, and now all that's left to do is wait.

Which, normally, you're not the worst at. You're excellent at entertaining yourself, actually, mostly because there's always something to think about. Whether it be about cute dogs that you've seen over the past week (I wonder if the pomeranian down the street will let me pet him next time), potential plot twists for the new fantasy drama you're a little bit obsessed with (what if Gregothy was cursed the whole time???), or generic ponderings of the human existence as a whole (do souls have the metaphysical equivalent of a fingerprint?), you're pretty much always thinking about something.

Which is totally fine and dandy and cool or whatever when you have the ability to, you know, shut it off. For example, when you need to do something simple and necessary like, oh I don't know, go the fuck to sleep.

You also hate when that manic mental energy somehow translates into kinetic energy as well. It makes you feel like a hamster in a cage, watching yourself running and running and running on that stupid wheel until you exhaust yourself.

Tonight's metaphorical wheel: stimming like wild in the kitchen. Flapping, rocking, (gently) slapping, making weird and fun mouth sounds, the whole shebang.

And again, normally stimming is fun. Stimming is great. But stimming because you feel like if you don't stop moving you're going to literally vibrate out of your skin is, to put it lightly, Not It.

It takes you about ten minutes to work out all of the energy until you no longer feel like your blood was replaced with pop rocks.

With a groan, you lower yourself to the kitchen floor and lay down face first. Because despite how exhausted you feel in every possible way, there's still something like an itch in your conscious, a fucking pea underneath the miles of mattresses that refuse to let you just. Fucking. Sleep.

Your pity party must've lasted longer than you realized (or, more likely, you dissociated for a hot second there) because suddenly someone's knocking at your door at the same time you get a text from Seungkwan.

And you know it's a text from Seungkwan specifically because you got Vernon to help you change your notification settings so that whenever Seungkwan texts you, the "i love you.. bitch" sound clip plays instead of a normal text tone.

For a fraction of a second, you contemplate slowly inching your way to the door like an uncoordinated caterpillar, but you swat the thought aside like you’re swatting a gnat and you awkwardly roll to your feet and make your way to your front door.

Without hesitating, you unlock the door, swinging it open with a flourish and sticking a finger right in Seungkwan's face before he can utter a single syllable, forcing him to cross his eyes.

You open your mouth wide like you're going to say something, pause for a moment, then tap your pointed finger to his nose with a quiet "boop."

He blinks, expression turning deadpan, and sighs. "I should have expected this, honestly."

“Yep!”

You let him into your apartment, and he makes himself right at home, mildly bitching at you as he goes to get the tea ready, and something within you shifts.

The inside of your head is still a bit of a dumpster fire, unfortunately, but inside your chest... something clicks into place that you're not sure that you're ready to name. Whatever it is, though, it's soft and warm and kinda feels like your heart is being hugged.

Smiling to yourself, you follow him into the kitchen.

💤 💤 💤 💤 💤

It was pretty much straight to “business” after that, and it only takes Seungkwan one cup of tea and two episodes listening to David Attenborough's dulcet narrations for him to knock right out, leaning heavily against your shoulder on the couch.

Which means it's now the perfect time to sit there and Admire Your Bro™️.

It's rare to see him so still, you think. He's an active guy, in pretty much every sense of the word, and you always feel a little honored when you get to be witness to his quiet, vulnerable moments like this one.

He looks so serene, face smoothed out and painted in soft twirling shades of blue from the screen of the monitor, though you can't see too much of it from this angle. Mostly you just see his cheeks and stupidly adorable button nose.

And you've seen the same thing a million times before — in all kinds of states and expressions — and despite how much you've tried to ignore it, each and every time you've caught yourself noticing just how cute Seungkwan is, it's caused that thing in your heart to scrunch up, full of the L-word feeling that you've kept unnamed for what feels like forever now.

Except, maybe that thing in your heart is tired of scrunching up. Maybe it's decided that it's tired of forever.

Maybe that thing has finally decided to burrow itself out of the walls you've built up because you find yourself finally allowing yourself to think, Holy shit, I think I'm in love with you.

You don't realize that Seungkwan has completely stilled against you, but you certainly notice when he suddenly throws himself forward so he can turn around and stare at you incredulously. Only he overshoots a little bit and ends up falling off the couch with a squawk and a dramatic flail.

"Oh my god, Kwannie are you okay?!"

He stares at you from where he fell, wide-eyed like you've grown a second head or like the time you'd tried to convince him that birds weren't real and actually just a government conspiracy.

"Am— am I okay? No??"

Now it's your turn to move off of the couch, coming down to his level to see if maybe he hurt himself when he fell. "Fuck, okay, did you hit something? Do you need an icepack?"

Seungkwan being Not Okay is maybe one of the worst things that could ever happen in the entire universe and you're trying not to panic as you reach out to check for injuries.

"No, no, stop—" he bats away at your hands and you stop in your motions, now kneeling in front of him. "I'm not hurt!"

Your brain does the cartoonish screech thing as it comes to a halt, and you furrow your brows. "But.. you just said you're not okay?"

"I'm not!" His eyes are still wide in shock, but he also looks confused and maybe a little bit like he's about to cry?

Oh no. If he cries and it's somehow your fault (because it has to somehow be your fault) you think the world might actually end.

"Okay, uh. I am— confused,” you start, sure you must look as lost as you feel. “But, um, what can I do to help?"

He swallows, and a part of you realizes that he's looking at you with an expression you've never seen before. "Did you mean it?"

Knowing that it's significant but not yet knowing why, you maintain eye contact. "Mean what?"

"What you just said."

You blink. "...that I'm confused?"

He shakes his head. "No, before that."

You have a hard time remembering what you just said when you're not sleep-deprived and worried you've just somehow accidentally caused irreparable emotional damage to your best friend. "Uh... when I asked if you were okay?"

"No, fuck," and it's a shock for some reason, hearing him cuss right now. You hear him say much worse things all the time, but you think it might be the way he said it — with a kind of desperate vulnerability that you're not sure you've ever heard from him before.

That thing in your chest twinges and you think maybe you're the one who's gonna start crying.

He says your name like a plea, and then he's on his knees right in front of where you're kneeling on the floor, reaching forward to cup your face in his palms. "You said— Y/n, you said "holy shit I think I'm in love with you.””

Oh.

You're pretty sure your heart falls right out of your ass and bounces across the rug, judging from the way it comes to a dead stop. You blink at him. Full of new and sinking kind of dread, you whisper, "...I said that out loud?"

He laughs, but it's tinged with incredulity and sounds a little too close to a sob for comfort. "Yes! You did!"

And wait, no, your heart is still stuck in your chest, because you can feel it start pounding against your ribcage in double, triple, quadruple time. He must see the fear in your expression, because suddenly his eyes are narrowed in a determined scowl and he growls, "Oh no you don't."

Then you find yourself going down with a yelp as Seungkwan octopuses himself around you, trapping you within the confines of his surprisingly strong arms and legs as he basically tackles you to the floor.

You try and wiggle away even as you know it's useless, and he grits, "Y/n dammit, answer my question."

"Why were you even awake?” You deflect, getting an arm free and trying to give him a wedgie. “You were supposed to be asleep!"

"I was supposed to be asleep?!” He screeches, easily evading your reach and poking your ribs to get you to reflexively pull back your arm. “You're the one who hasn't slept in literal days! And stop avoiding my question!"

"No!" He has you trapped once again, and you resort to licking his arm.

"Oh my god!"

He muffles his scream into your shoulder, long and frustrated, and then he just... goes limp. He loosens his hold and just lets his full body weight kinda crush the parts of you he's ended up lying on and just... lays there.

This is your chance, you know — to wiggle free and escape and run away from your feelings just like you always have.

But, for some reason, you don't — that scrunched-up thing in your chest holds you back. You stay there, lying beneath Seungkwan on the floor of your living room at one-something in the morning, and the two of you just breathe.

"It's okay, you know," he murmurs after a moment, so quiet you barely hear him over David Attenborough still narrating softly in the background. "If you didn't mean it. It's okay."

Holy shit, I think I'm in love with you.

And you realize how easy it would be to play it off, to blame it on the sleep deprivation, the way you blurted it out like that — to say (to lie) you meant it completely platonically, like the way you propose to Mingyu at least once a month when he cooks you all dinner.

And you also realize, quite shockingly, that despite how a part of you still desperately wants to run away, the larger part of you wants to stay. Doesn't want to run. Doesn't want to lie anymore.

You swallow heavily, briefly close your eyes, and take in a deep breath. "And if I did? Mean it?"

This time, you do notice when Seungkwan goes still. Slowly, he lifts his head so he can look you in the eyes.

When he doesn't say anything, just continues to look at you with an unreadable expression, you try to continue.

"Would you— would that— would it be okay? If I meant it? When I— when I said that I'm in love with you? Is— because um, like you said, it's okay if it's not, and uh—"

Your nervous rambling comes to a stop when he once again cups your face, but it's gentler than before, closer to a caress. The whole time you'd been talking he'd been slowly sitting up, and now he's on his knees next to where you're still lying down on the floor, looking down at you like all the hope in the world is somewhere to be found in your expression.

"Y/n." he says your name like it's something precious, and you feel the absurd urge to burst into tears. "It would be very okay." His thumbs make gentle arcs across your cheeks. "And just to be clear: you mean it in a non-platonic sense, right?” He chews on his lip. “Hopefully, in a very much romantic sense?"

Staring at him staring at you, eyes bright with hope and a little bit of wonder... you can only imagine you must be looking at him the same way. Your chest feels like it's full of helium but also like something warm and gooey is sloshing around in there. And all that hope and wonder and holy shit is this actually happening? is causing your tongue to stick to the roof of your mouth, and all you're able to get past your lips is a breathless, "Hopefully?"

"Oh my god," he groans in frustration, but it's light and airy and makes you think of amusement park rides and fairy lights and how you want to annoy the shit out of this man for the rest of his life, if he'll let you. He's shaking his head, smiling, beaming, and he asks, "Why can you never give me any kind of a straight answer, huh?"

"Because it's my life's purpose to be the bane of your existence until the day we die," you say, reaching up to hold his face too. "Also because I've never done anything straight ever in my life."

And then your body is moving before your brain can think it though, dragging him down until you can press your lips to his and finally, finally know what it's like to kiss Boo Seungkwan.

He makes a little noise of surprise, one that you can feel buzz against your lips before he melts into you. And oh, any thoughts you might have had are forcefully ejected from your brain because all you can focus on are his lips pressed to yours, the way they move slowly, gently, turning this chaste kiss into the most scorching experience of your life. His nose bumps against yours and the heat of his warm breath sends tingles throughout your body, and his hands, fuck, his hands are still holding you gently but also with a firmness that feels like he doesn't want to let you go.

And then he's pulling away, and you whine at him because this may be the cruelest thing he's ever done to you ever in your entire life. "Noooooo, why'd you stop?"

"Because, as much as I'd love to continue to make out with you on your floor while an old British man narrates about life on the Serengeti—” he mercifully ignores the way you choke on your spit at the way he talks about making out with you so nonchalantly "—it's past someone's bedtime."

Your mouth drops open in offended shock. Was he actually going to put you to bed like a child? Like you both hadn't just declared your romantic love for each other? "Are you fucking serious?"

He just stands up and crosses his arms, looking down at you with a single raised eyebrow. You take the part of you that finds it annoyingly attractive and promptly smother it, crossing your own arms from your position on the floor.

"I'm not a baby," you definitely don't pout.

"Hmmm...” And then the bastard fucking pouts at you. “But you're my baby."

You blink at him.

"Welp, that was nice while it lasted,” you grunt, rolling to your feet, “but I suddenly need to relocate to Antarctica and become a penguin herder.”

He pulls you into his arms with a laugh, and you let him, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder.

“You know,” he starts after he's held you for a few moments. “This isn't how I ever imagined how us confessing to each other would go.”

You snort.

“But also,” he continues, “it feels very 'us' doesn't it?”

"Yeah,” you murmur, not bothering to lift your head from his shoulder.

“Mmm, is someone finally sleepy?” he teases, starting to waddle you both towards your bedroom. “Did all the emotions finally wear you out?”

Instead of nodding, you lightly kick him in the shin and the sappy part of your brain that is currently in charge of everything thinks that his indignant squawk is one of your most favorite sounds.

The sappy part of your brain is right, of course, and when you wake up in your bed 15 hours later and accidentally smack him in the face, the urge to run is a little bit smaller than it was before. And the way he flushes bright red after you sleepily kiss him on the cheek is an image you're going to cherish until the day you die.

#svtsource #seungkwan fluff #seungkwan fic #seungkwan x y/n #seungkwan x you #seungkwan x reader #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #savv writes #savv fics #in my queue world

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