#I’d apologize for being in his presence just because of that smile

[atomsminecraft]

Me rn:

[hazelfoureyes]

for your consideration:

a reader who’s genuinely more powerful than Alastor is. maybe they’re royalty or another overlord or maybe they simply just have a more commanding presence than him, but in any way, he hates it. he goes out of his way to try to one-up them (much like how he did with Lucifer), but the reader never falters, ever-calm and ever-in control. it infuriates Alastor to no end— not only because of the simple fact that he isn’t the strongest person in the room anymore, but also because the reader never treats him like he’s lesser than them. they treat him like an equal, and it makes him even angrier.

when they fuck for the first time, it’s a last-ditch attempt for Alastor to regain control— and it fails, because even though Alastor is on top with his nails digging into the reader’s skin, doing his very best to cause the pain he knows he can cause, the reader still just stares up at him, taking it like they always do. no tears fall from their eyes, no pleads fall from their lips. Alastor is dissatisfied— very much so. so they do it again. and again. and again, until it’s something of a game between them. until one day, the reader’s composure finally shatters.

they’ve had enough of Alastor’s attitude and disrespect, and they tell him as much. they pin him down, snarling about his god complex and his twisted sadism and how long they’ve been waiting to put him in his place. and Alastor finds that no matter how much he struggles, he can’t get that control that had been so rudely snatched from him back. but the thing is— a part of him likes it. really, really likes it— that loss of power that should be his and his alone, being held just out of his petulant reach. it brings him a sick feeling that he’s never felt before and can’t get enough of.

that part grows and grows until he’s the one crying and begging and squirming weakly underneath the reader, both his smile and his mind threatening to break as the reader fucks him relentlessly. no matter how many times either of them cums, the reader doesn’t stop, not until Alastor is screaming his apologies, over and over and over again. he hates it. he loves it.

when it’s all over, and when the reader has settled, Alastor makes them promise that they will never speak of this again. without a hint of smugness, the reader agrees— but maybe the next time Alastor is acting up, the reader will only have to give him a look. and he will know.

I know this wasn’t a prompt necessarily but don’t think you can come into MY HOUSE and lay a feast in front of me and not expect I’d dig in 👏 face 👏 first 👏 so here’s me just kinda riffing off your DELICIOUSLY WRITTEN MESSAGE. NO TIME TO EDIT A CUTE REPLY IMAGE

Wrapped around Your Finger (Ace Alastor bottoms for a GN!Seraphim Reader short smut)

Warnings/Promises: 🗣️ ALASTOR GETS FINGERED, Gender Neutral Reader x Alastor smut, hate fucking, bondage, initial dubcon, Ace Alastor, scratching, kinda degradation kink, Angel Reader, Reader is a good friend, Protect Angel Dust at all costs

minors dni

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ When Lucifer introduced a defected Seraphim to the hotel, Alastor’s smile dropped. You had feet yet to him you seemed to glide through the hotel halls effortlessly. You were impeccably dressed, ever polite, well mannered, clean. It was driving him mad. Yes, Alastor knew the importance of being well groomed. He exalted manners and gentility. He disliked grime and thought a lack of personal hygiene was an actual sin. But the sight of you, every fucking day with that ever present soft smile on your lips? Your gaze, always gentle as you listened to sinners explain their dreams of redemption. Nails on a chalkboard. Every room you were in, all eyes turned to you. It was if the air itself was pulled into your charms.

Every one in the hotel either feared Alastor or, at least, failed to hide their annoyance when He’d sneak up on them or touch them without warning. Of course, not you. Alastor shocked himself with his antics in attempt to make you react to him at all. Charlie would pull him aside weekly, asking what the actual fuck? “Why did you say that? They know they aren’t from here, we all know that, but telling them they are most unnatural creature to ever exist in Hell? And I don’t think it was an accident you knocked their drink over. Al, you are being a bully.” Yes, and he was sorry. Sorry he was so ineffective. Not even a fucking knitted brow so much as flashed at him when he spilled your drink down your chest. You smiled, you had the audacity to smile at him and say, “Whoops. Your monocle isn’t prescription, huh?” He only had one option left to push you beneath him—-rip you to pieces. Any thing to get you to look at him differently than all the other weak souls mulling about in hell.

Alastor had seen you fight, when an overlord came to the hotel to taste seraphim blood, all of the Pride Ring saw your power. Arms out stretched, a glow came from your palms, yellow and bright. With the speed of someone enjoying a breakfast on the patio on a Sunday in hell, you knelt down and pressed your palms into the ground. A flash of light and power rung out from you and blinded everyone watching, but Alastor could see you as he melted into the deepest shadows your light created. White and gold glowing shards erupted from the dirt, fracturing the grounds of the hotel lawn as they formed a jagged but intelligent line straight for the demon. The overlord barely recovered from the blinding effect of your power before a glass-like piece shot from the ground and straight through his chest. It was over in seconds, and you had never dropped your soft grin.

He was prideful, but not stupid. A test, a little experiment first. When you watched sweetly from the sidelines and Charlie directed yet another meaningless activity, Alastor stood opposite you. Your eyes flitted from person to person, your smile small but genuine. Were you glowing? He had had enough. He reached his shadow appendages out and wrapped one around your ankle, as it gripped and prepared to drag you to the floor in what he hoped would be an embarrassing display, nothing happened. As the tentacle touched you, it dissipated. Your light entirely erasing the shadow.

He felt his mind breaking. Every night he paced, feeling your overwhelming presence in the hotel even at such a distance. He decided to try the one thing he’d never tried. Atleast, not since coming to hell. You were always so accommodating, maybe to a fault? He found you in kitchen, alone, making yourself some sickeningly sweet drink. Your body froze when Alastor pressed against you from behind. But, you didn’t make a sound. “Apologies, I don’t think I can suffer any longer.” He ground his hips into your ass, “I never do this, a gentleman through and through. But you see, as a deer demon, sometimes there are periods of—- unbearable discomfort. I can’t focus on redemption like this.”

Alastor was shocked when you swiveled around, eyes closed from your smile, and said, “I came here to help. What can I do?”

He couldn’t understand it. Bent over the counter in the common area, his nails cutting lines down your sides that healed with a frustrating speed, you just sighed into him. Little moans, soft exhales. He slammed your hips against him, the sound ringing through the kitchen. But still, your eyes were closed but not clenched. Your sounds small and even. The only thing keeping him hard was your hand, reached back and digging nails into his thighs. The tiniest hint of your true feelings. He’d bury his mind where your hand tore his skin and find release. Happy to see you at least a little less perfectly assembled after.

Alastor would find you at the most inconvenient times, in the most public settings, and find some excuse to need to fuck you. At one point a sinner even walked in on you two, and to Alastor’s palpable dismay, you apologized to the sinner for blocking the ice machine.

Your resolve finally snapped, however, when Alastor stepped past a line he didn’t know you had. Alastor had you, uncharacteristically, in your bed. He always spoke during sex but now, now it was genuinely grating you. “You’re such a whore, coming to Hell just to eat demon cock. If you drowned in cum you’d probably respawn as an even bigger slut than Angel Dust.” You sat up, one hand on his chest and the other under his armpit, and flipped him onto his back. Alastor’s arm moved to push back, but he found both wrists held down to the bed with a signature glow.

“If you knew Angel half as well as you pretended, you’d know how fucking stupid you sound.” Your hands gathered his cum from earlier that evening, slowly dripping out of you with the sudden change in position. “He’s the whore? Who stalks this hotel, hungry for any ounce of attention? A petulant child willing to embarrass others just so teacher notices them?” Your hand began to pump his cock. Alastor thrashed, he hated people handling his dick, but that was overshadowed by his disgust of having his semen spread over his skin. The sensation made his skin crawl and he would have gone soft but when he met your gaze he only grew harder in your fist. Your eyes were alight, figuratively and literally. The rage on your face made his smile drop entirely. You looked like you hated him. “If he is a whore, then you are Mary Magdalene. I’ll wash your feet for you, sinner.” You used your knees to spread open his untethered legs.

“I know you, Alastor,” the fingers of your other hand slicked through the lathered cum dripping down his ass and began to massage at his hole. “Your greatest sin wasn’t murder. It was pride. Never could let anyone see the famous Radio star with even a hair out of place. You’d drop your morals for even a taste of an improved social image. Even in death, you abuse and hound others who dare to make you feel less than how you demand you look from the outside.” He wanted to say anything, argue, roar, but his jaw was locked in place. Your eyes never left his, and soon his vision was darkening around your luminescent stare. A finger slipped into him, slowly but with resistance.

“Tell me to stop.” Your hand slowed to let his muscles relax around your digit before picking up speed again, curving your palm over his head with every pull upward, “Tell me to stop and I will. I’ll go right back to who I always am, and always will be. I’ll smile at you every morning and move out of your way with a nod in the halls. Say ‘stop’.” Your words were threats, not idle or hollow and it made Alastor’s thighs twitch. Go back? Return to looking at him like you truly wanted the best for him despite how dirty his hands were? Soft eyes threatening to make him melt into a lesser, weaker man?

You were in him to the knuckle, finger prodding and twirling.

His eyes were wide but focused on you. Alastor thought his soul would evaporate, your face a sneer he’d never been so lucky to even imagine before now. He could feel you around him, in him.

A tiny, halted, “S-,” was forced through his teeth.

Stop?

Slower?

He shook his head, eyes fluttering closed.

“God, you’re pathetic. What about a sorry? Can you manage a single apology for your comments tonight? I’ll let you roll me back into the mattress, for a sincere ‘sorry’.” Alastor's knees hitched, his head fell back, and he came over your knuckles with a pained groan. But you didn’t stop. You’d get your reply, eventually.

Alastor gave a threat of his own when you finally got your apology, half screamed through his third orgasm, and let him flee your bed. You nodded and agreed, yes yes, this never happened blah blah yet another example of your enormous pride.

After that night, any time Alastor wanted to yank on Husk’s chains, or double speak someone into a deal, he’d pause and look around. Expecting your two golden lit eyes to be staring, ready to flip him onto his back and drag several more apologies from him.

༻Masterlist༺

[mangowillow]

last to know | ch. 2: as always, even now

pairing: jungkook x (f) reader / kim woosung x (f) reader

summary: you and jeongguk got together at 16 years old, married at 20, and divorced at 21. what was once love ever after turned into nothing but pain and unfulfilled dreams. you keep going despite the pain in your heart that never really went away, until one day, jungkook comes back— to seoul and in your life.

general story tags: divorce au, childhood friends, angst, hurt & eventual comfort, kind of a slow burn, OC is an adopted child in this fic, a lot of flashbacks later on because context is important; and the others that a lot of people seem to dislike: a love triangle and a LOT of miscommunication. look away if this isn't your thing. tags and warnings will be updated as we go along with each chapter!

warnings: mentions of weight loss and a hospital, jeongguk has a panic attack (semi-detailed), problematic parent-child dynamics. let me know if i miss anything and please be kind!

word count: 5.3k

author's note: *peeks into the void* why hello there! let's pretend i didn't disappear off the face of the earth. earlier this year i went to see The Rose live for their dawn to dusk tour and it was so much fun! there's just a lot of things that have happened and continue to do so; please accept my sincerest apologies for being inconsistent! BUT. know that i haven't forgotten about this story. heh.

also a few more things: ♡ to put things into perspective: jeongguk, OC/reader, and woosung are all the same age; that also means they're as old as seokjin and yoongi in this fic. all the other members maintain their age. honorifics may or may not appear at times. if that bothers you, well, can't please everybody! ♡ this fic isn't beta'd nor proofread by anyone. we go rogue, always.

tags for interested readers will be open for as long as this fic is ongoing! let me know in the comments or message me, whatever fits your preference!

fic masterlist

Woosung plants a big, sloppy kiss on your cheek and giggles.

Looking at him, you ask, “What was that for?”

“Do I need a reason?” Woosung teases as he chews on his jjajangmyeon. You chuckle at his candidness and reach out to wipe the sauce that landed on the corner of his lip. The both of you resorted to sitting on the floor, surrounded by boxes, using one of them as a makeshift table to place the food.

“I’m really happy you got to come today,” you muse, enjoying Woosung’s calming presence as he delicately places a piece of chicken karaage on your noodle bowl before setting his own down. You haven’t seen him for a few days because he needed to get some new music done in preparation for his application to a recording agency as a performer and a producer. You were more than happy to support him in any way you could, including giving him his space to figure things out. It was also who Woosung was— a quiet soul who liked working in solitude. 

You and Woosung are so much alike.

“Why? Did you think I’d forget?” Woosung teases, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“No, I just thought… maybe you needed more time to prepare for your application. That’s important.”

Woosung gently shakes his head, ready to disagree— “Nothing will ever be as important to me as you.”

A slight pink dusted your cheeks. You didn’t expect him to be this cheesy so early in the morning so you smile and cast your eyes back down to your meal. 

“... I do have news for you, babe.” Woosung starts. He turns his body to face you. Giving your hundred percent attention, you cut the noodles with your teeth and place the bowl down. Wiping your mouth with a napkin, you hum at his statement, “What is it?”

Woosung smiles and looks at you lovingly. You feel a bit self-conscious every time he stares at you so intensely and like clockwork, you feel your cheeks heat up. 

“I got the job, sweetheart.”

Hearing the news leave his lips leaves you surprised— your hands fly to your mouth and your eyes start to water. “R-really?” Woosung nods and chuckles through his own teary eyes, you throw yourself at him to give him a tight hug. “Woosung, oh my god— this is— “ you hold him by the shoulders, explore every inch of his face, elation in both of your hearts— “this is great, oh gosh I am so happy for you,” you hug him again. 

You feel Woosung’s body relax instantly in your hold; it has been a journey, walking with Woosung through his own painful moments struggling with his art and passion. Two years ago, he came to Seoul desperately needing a break from life and music after many unsuccessful attempts to make it into the music industry back home in the United States. Although he and his bandmates have put out several songs in the past, they never really gained as much traction with an audience as they had hoped. Going back home to his roots in South Korea also meant leaving his bandmates behind— they have been nothing but supportive of him and his time as they also needed to re-assess their own lives and figure out what they truly wanted. 

Two years ago, Woosung also met you. Both your lives changed ever since.

“Thank you for all your support, ____… you know I wouldn’t have been able to get through all this if it weren’t for you.” Woosung whispers, tightening his hold on your waist. You feel this, you feel everything when it comes to him— so you wrap your arms tighter around him, too. “This is all you, babe. This is all your hard work.”

You both stay that way for a while. Unspoken words are left hanging, as well. You both know well what might become of all this as you always try to communicate. You believe it is what has sustained your relationship for so long. 

Both of you know that Woosung will always belong to music— it’s his dream and the reason why he took so many risks along the way. It was only a matter of when. The possibilities have always been there— should there be a moment where Woosung would return to his career, to his band, to becoming a global star. The fears that come along with those possibilities were also ever-present: what you and Woosung’s future would look like. 

All of these thoughts come rushing to the both of you, but neither of you said anything.

For now, the both of you are happy. And that is enough.

When you parted from each other, you pushed away some of the hair that fell over Woosung’s eyes. “When do you start?”

Woosung takes a deep breath, “As soon as the higher-ups get settled in. I’ve been told they’ve recently landed in Seoul so it shouldn’t be too long now. I’ll be meeting with the owners and one of them is the lead producer. I heard he was a genius, but also a bit scary. They’ve also given me a signing bonus and a potential collaboration with him… that was new… he said they liked my work so much…”

“Wow, that… that sounds so exciting, baby. How are you feeling about all of this?”

“I’m nervous, for the most part,” Woosung murmurs, readjusting the collar of his shirt. It’s been a while since I talked to someone else about music professionally and… this company— I’ve heard so many wonderful things about it. For one, it was built by musicians, too. So I’m hoping they’re not just doing all of it for the business.” 

You smile warmly at Woosung and hold his hands. “You’re going to do great, you know that, right?”

Woosung draws in a breath and nods before meeting your eyes. 

That night, Woosung couldn’t sleep. He watches over you as you dream and when a strand of your hair falls on your face after moving a bit, he tucks it behind your ear. His fingers lightly dance while grazing the side of your face. Woosung sighs as a feeling of anxiety starts to creep into his heart. He loves change, but he cannot help but feel somewhat scared about it anyway. He gets so lost in his thoughts about you that he doesn’t notice you wake up.

“Baby, hey… you’re still awake.”

Your voice brings Woosung back to the present. Seeing your sleepy eyes under the sliver of moonlight that passes through your window makes his heart do a mini somersault— it always does.

“Hmm… I couldn’t sleep,” Woosung says. You scoot closer to him, his arm going under your shoulders to support your body in an embrace. 

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” you whisper, eyes closed, inhaling his scent— him. 

“Just… things. I’m not sure how to articulate them yet…”

You hum, “Then I’ll just stay like this with you to keep you warm… warmth helps you sleep, right?”

Woosung nods, bringing your body closer to his. “Hm… especially your warmth.” Seconds later, he feels you breathe deeper, letting him know that you’re about to let yourself succumb to sleep once more. “I love you.”

When no response came from you, Woosung closed his eyes. Then suddenly, in the stillness of the night, he feels your hand squeeze his ever so lightly.

“I love you, too.”

“Hyung, I think that’s the salt—” Jimin starts.

Seokjin snorts, stopping with the shaker in his hand mid-air, “What do you mean, Jimin-ah, I think I know the difference between salt and sugar.” He was about to potentially put salt on the croffle in front of him, leaving Jimin feeling both very nervous and distressed.

“Last time, I remember you put the sugar in a different container because a customer accidentally broke the original shaker. The color of the cap was blue, not red. This—” he pointed at the shaker Seokjin was holding, “— is obviously not blue.”

“Yah, that happened last week, but I already switched them out two days ago—” Seokjin tries to argue.

They didn’t notice Woosung enter the cafe until he spoke, “Why don’t you just taste it?”

“Oh hey, Woosung-hyung,” Jimin greets.

“Hey, Jimin. Good to see you,” Woosung replies as Jimin nods, his eyes turning into crescents as soon as he smiles.

Seokjin scoffs once more before greeting Woosung, but he relents and tastes whatever is inside the shaker. When he makes a funny face, Jimin and Woosung chuckle.

“Told ya, hyung. Tell us I saved your life.”

“I can’t believe this is salt, I knew I already switched it out—”

With possible disaster averted, Jimin doesn’t listen to Seokjin’s monologue anymore, “You’re here early today, hyung. Would you like to order the usual?”

“Actually, I am here to buy a mango parfait… ____’s fridge is crazy cold and the frozen mangoes are, well, too frozen. I might actually break the blender. I also forgot to make her usual overnight oats. We had to move a lot of things very quickly yesterday so she could have a bed to sleep on.”

“I got you, hyung. We just finished making a fresh batch of parfaits. Do you want one, too?” Jimin asks.

“Are there other flavors?”

“Blueberry and strawberry,” Seokjin adds.

“I’ll take one blueberry, then. Thanks.” Woosung gets ready to pay, but Seokjin waves him away. “It’s on the house.”

“You always give us free stuff, Seokjin—” Woosung tries to argue, but Seokjin shakes his head immediately.

“Taking care of my sister is more than enough, Woosung-ah.”

Woosung gives Seokjin a tight smile and nods. Seokjin then asks, albeit softer, “How is she doing lately?”

“She’s doing better,” Woosung reassures. “She has been painting more recently; not just because of her job at the university, but also at home. We’re going to set up her studio today so it should be fun.”

“That’s good to hear, right hyung?” Jimin turns to Seokjin, who nods. Jimin hands Woosung a paper bag with the parfaits. “I put some new desserts we’re experimenting with. Please give them a try.”

Woosung peeks at the paper bag and sees croissants and greenish muffins, presumably matcha-flavored. “Oh wow, thank you Jimin… I won’t take up too much of your time, guys. ____ is still sleeping and I need to clean up the mango disaster I left on her kitchen counter before she wakes up.”

Seokjin chuckles, “You really came all the way here for parfaits when you could have bought these anywhere near ____’s apartment.”

“Ah, but nothing beats your parfaits, Seokjin. A wise man once told me that,” Woosung smiles. He and Seokjin instantly formed a bond the moment they met two years ago, much to your relief. You’ve always been nervous to tell your brother anything remotely new about your love life— and you understand where he is coming from.

“Well whoever that wise man is must be pretty smart,” Seokjin replies. His eyes soften right afterward. “Go. Let’s have a drink sometime, yeah?”

“Sure thing,” Woosung waves goodbye to Seokjin and Jimin.

Jeongguk walks the hallway of the recording studio, still groggy from sleep. Hands in his pockets, he stood outside Yoongi’s door, staring at his peculiar mat: a cat with its middle finger raised, the words ‘fuck off’ glaring at him. Figures, he thought. A doormat won’t stop him from ringing Yoongi’s doorbell, though.

“Who is it?” he hears Yoongi call out.

“It’s your favorite person in the whole wide world,” Jeongguk says, sarcasm lacing his voice. He pinched the bridge of his nose; a habit he developed in college whenever he felt the exhaustion seep out of him. He hears scuffling from the other side of the door until the sound of the door’s automatic lock rings. Jeongguk sees Yoongi clad in a plaid shirt, ripped jeans, and a gray beanie— his signature style. 

“Dumbass,” Yoongi mutters under his breath before turning his back to return to his equipment. “Good morning to you too,” Jeongguk teases as he closes the door behind him. 

“How are you already set up? It’s barely a day since we arrived!”

Yoongi chooses not to respond. 

“You’re kidding me, right?” Jeongguk asks in disbelief. “Please tell me you at least went home to get your shit sorted? Or maybe sleep like normal human beings do?”

“I did… for a brief moment, maybe?” Yoongi starts.

Jeongguk shakes his head, “You have to stop spreading yourself thin, Yoongi. It’ll be the death of you.”

Yoongi fiddles with a few knobs on the synthesizer before muttering, “That doesn’t seem so bad— spreading myself too thin, that is.”

Jeongguk throws his hands up in surrender and rolls his eyes.

“Have I succeeded in frustrating you to hell and back, yet?” Yoongi smirks while continuing to flit his eyes through the numerous screens in front of him.

Jeongguk was about to say something but then the door alarm clicked. Kim Namjoon’s head peeks out from behind the door.

“I came to say my welcome remarks,” Namjoon says as he lets himself in. Jeongguk’s mouth falls open because he couldn’t believe Namjoon could just easily waltz in without any resistance. What’s even more astounding was that he knew Yoongi’s passcode— while he, on the other hand, had to ring the fucking doorbell.

“Oh, great. So your boyfriend knows your passcode and I don’t?” Jeongguk asks.

“He isn’t my boyfriend,” Yoongi states, matter-of-factly. Jeongguk couldn’t help but glance at Namjoon’s way, who seemed unfazed.

“Right, and I’m Neil Armstrong,” Jeongguk plops down on the couch.

“You’re the CEO, Jeongguk, of course, you should know the passcode… right, Yoongi?” says Namjoon, ever the oblivious one. 

Yoongi continues to do work on his computer, his fingers deftly flying across his keyboard, “Don’t encourage him, Namjoon.”

Namjoon looks back at Jeongguk who has now taken an interest in the plant beside the couch. When they met each other’s eyes, Namjoon just shrugged, his dimples showing. 

“How was your flight, you guys? I hope everything was easy peasy.”

“Easy peasy lemon squeezy,” Jeongguk responds. “Not sure about Yoongi here though. He looked like he was about to puke.”

“Shut up,” Yoongi retaliates.

“I can’t imagine the both of you tolerating each other while in another country. It’s a miracle this production company is still standing upright,” Namjoon says chuckling. 

Namjoon met Jeongguk first in university while they studied in New York. Although Jeongguk was a business student and Namjoon double majored in music theory and composition, they ran into each other at a frat party-— with Jeongguk being drunk off his ass. He was about to fall into the pool full of piss (which the other frat members thought was funny) when Namjoon saved him in the nick of time. 

Apart from Yoongi, Namjoon also served as Jeongguk’s confidant, especially after things went south between you and Jeongguk. When the dust settled and Jeongguk was sober enough to realize the gravity of his mistakes, Namjoon helped Yoongi pick up the pieces of Jeongguk’s brokenness. As with time passing by, Namjoon and Yoongi started to develop into something more, too. Much to Jeongguk’s delight and envy.

However, neither Yoongi nor Namjoon has admitted their feelings to the other. And truth be told, Jeongguk is sick of them dancing around each other.

But he also knows it’s none of his business.

“Hey, Jeongguk, is that family dinner of yours still happening tonight?” Yoongi decides to ask. Also probably to change the subject.

Jeongguk lets out a deep sigh. “Yes, it is.”

“Ouch. Will you be alright?” Namjoon asks out of genuine concern.

“I don’t really have a choice.”

“You always have a choice, Jeongguk-ah,” Yoongi inserts. “You just need to work on making the right ones.”

Jeongguk slacks his jaw and runs his tongue across his lip ring. He doesn’t really have an answer to that.

Because once again, Yoongi was right. Not just about the damn family dinner; Jeongguk also knows his best friend’s words run deeper and imply a whole lot more than just feeling forced to sit down with his parents over steak and champagne.

“See you on the other side, then,” Namjoon says as he pats Jeongguk on the shoulder before leaving the room.

Jeongguk mulled over bringing flowers to the family dinner but decided against it.

He knows that the house would be filled with them, anyway. And his efforts won’t matter, either.

As he got out of his car, a chauffeur was already by his side ready to take his keys for him. When the car drove off, Jeongguk took a moment to look at the house he hadn’t lived in for years. It feels odd to come home; it feels even odder to feel numb about all of it.

It took Jeongguk a few seconds to ring the doorbell; for god’s sake, it was his house too, he thought. Ringing the doorbell meant he was a stranger— which he felt was appropriate.

He was greeted by a new housekeeper. He gave her a nod before stepping inside. Almost instantly, his mother appeared at the top of the staircase. They look at one another for a moment, before his mother breaks the silence.

“You finally decide to show yourself.”

Jeongguk doesn’t move. Doesn’t respond, either. He was prepared for a stare-off match with his mother, but that was until his father showed up from the kitchen. With a dish towel in hand, Jeongguk’s father smiled at him as he placed a hand on his son’s shoulder.

“It’s so good to see you, son.”

Jeongguk, once more, doesn’t have it in him to respond.

At the dinner table, the silence was so loud, that Jeongguk thought it could break glass.

“Did you settle in fine, Jeongguk?” his father asks.

“Yes, father, I did.”

“You should have chosen a place that was nearer to us, Jeongguk,” his mother chides.

“Honey…” Jeongguk’s father tries to put out a fire that is about to ignite. Jeongguk, on the other hand, was so tired from the flight and emotionally, that he felt a need to retaliate.

Because why not? Whether he speaks up or not wasn’t really up to him. Between him and his mother, he has nothing to lose.

“I don’t know, mother, I chose that place because I wanted to get away from here as much as possible.” Jeongguk remarks. He knows he hit a nerve because his mother downed her champagne rather than respond.

“How is the company going, son? Everything doing alright?” his father asks, trying to mitigate a conflict that neither of them could recover from.

“I guess. Yoongi and I haven’t managed to burn anything so that’s nice,” Jeongguk eats a spoonful of mashed potato. He knows he really needs to shut up and regulate his emotions, but he just can’t help but be sarcastic.

Once more, the silence won. However, Jeongguk’s mother is the type to not back down.

“You should think about getting married soon, Jeongguk—” she starts. Jeongguk feels himself grow cold as if on instinct. 

“—and this time, we want you to marry someone your level,” she finishes. Jeongguk felt his heart twisting so painfully that he didn’t notice how tight he held on to his cutlery.

Jeongguk swallows the once-repressed pain that used to consume him whole. He knows this is futile because he never dares to face his regrets square in the face. Instead, he allows the pain to make him angry. He allows his resentment to consume him in ways he doesn’t know how to handle and in a pained effort to avoid causing further damage, he remains quiet. Unresponsive. Cold. Withdrawn.

But his own mother is even more cold-hearted than he is. She is the one who made him like this.

It’s her fault.

“You need to marry a good woman who can keep up with your social status. Remember you’re not just anyone, Jeongguk. You’re a Jeon. And you have a legacy to uphold,” his mother condescends. 

Tears start to sting Jeongguk’s eyes, but he doesn’t want to let his mother win. So he keeps still.

“I have a few prospects for you, dear. We should set dates for them, don’t you think so? I chose the most refined and educated—” Jeongguk hates how his mother knows how to push his buttons and hurt him.

He knows that his mother knows his ultimate weakness.

You.

And because his mother cannot contain her insecurities and prejudice, she projects it all on her son. But most especially, you— whether you were in the room or not.

Jeongguk’s mother continues her monologue. His father miserably fails to become the referee (he always does). Heat starts to rise Jeongguk’s neck and he swears he could hear his own blood pumping through his ears. What almost immediately follows is the high-pitched ringing that only he can hear. 

Jeongguk starts to feel dizzy; like he’s about to lose control.

But instead of releasing, instead of crying, instead of getting angry— he does none of them. 

He finds himself standing up, his hands dragging the plate full of food to the ground. With all his might, Jeongguk tries to breathe deeply.

“That’s enough, mom.” Jeongguk croaks. A tear escapes his eye. “Please.”

Jeongguk rarely addresses her as “mom”. But in times of vulnerability and helplessness, it’s the term he ends up using.

“As I expected… you are still weak, Jeongguk.” his mother states with absolutely no remorse.

Jeongguk feels like he is about to throw up. To save himself, he drags his legs to leave the dining area. Housekeepers try to help him, but he brushes them aside. Security guards around the house up until the gate tried to support him, but Jeongguk just waved them all off.

He just needed to get away before his vision completely blurred. He needed to get out of this godforsaken house.

It was a miracle that Jeongguk got far away from the house as he had. But in doing so, he felt physically weaker and weaker. His mind isn’t done with him yet as thoughts of you start to resurface. His chest starts to tighten again. He feels cold and afraid and tired.

Jeongguk falls to his knees on the side of the road; he allows his body to go limp and fall to the ground. 

He barely remembers what happened next.

When Jeongguk opens his eyes, bright, stale lights greet him. 

He hears beeping, faint footsteps, a voice over an intercom.

He feels something brushing his leg so gently that it takes him a while before realizing that someone is standing over him, wiping the edge of his slacks.

Jeongguk squints his eyes to get a better look at the person touching his leg. When he tries to elevate his upper body, the person in front of him feels him moving.

Jeongguk couldn’t believe who he was seeing. His panic attack must still be happening because it was impossible.

It was you.

“Oh… hi,” you start. Jeongguk is at a loss for words so he continues to stare at you.

You immediately feel self-conscious so you start to wrangle the damp cloth you were holding. 

“Are you okay? Hang on, I’ll call the nurse—”

You start to leave, but Jeongguk catches your wrist. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. You look at his hand on your wrist before Jeongguk lets go of it.

“W-what happened?”

“You’re at the hospital… um, I– I got a call from them saying you were here,” you say.

Jeongguk’s eyebrows met. He is still confused as to how or why the hospital would call you. As he looks at you, in the flesh, in front of him, the familiar ache in his chest threatens to overwhelm him again.

You look as beautiful as ever, even more so than the last time he saw you. The last time he did, you were crying to him. He did that to you. That was his fault.

“Are you hurt, anywhere, Jeongguk? I think I need to call your doctor, just give me a second—”

“No… please. I’m okay. I don’t feel any pain.” Except for my broken heart.

“Oh… okay.”

Jeongguk observes you, more particularly your hands. You still have that habit of fiddling with your fingers when you didn’t know what to do, he thinks. 

“H-how did the hospital call you? You didn’t change your number?” Jeongguk is a hundred percent sure his choice of questions was dumb, but he doesn’t have any idea as to why you’re here.

“The hospital told me I was your emergency contact… they uh– they only found your wallet on you and found this,” you explain as you handed him his wallet. Inside was an old piece of paper with your emergency contact number and e-mail address.

“The e-mail address is now defunct, but my number is still the same because I had it reactivated when I came back here…”

When I came back here, Jeongguk repeated to himself. 

Jeongguk wanted to ask you a million questions, but his throat feels dry and he is unable to speak. 

“I um, I also called Yoongi. He should be here any minute,” you continue. When Jeongguk looks at you funny, you give him a small smile— the first one you’ve given him since he woke up. “We talk sometimes.”

There is a lot of information that Jeongguk needs to process but his head hurts a lot and he makes a mental note to interrogate his friend later.

You move to grab and open the plastic bag that is on the bedside table. You pull out a pair of black socks. Jeongguk sees you hesitate a bit before speaking again.

“I got these across the street… your socks got wet from the rain.”

“Oh.” Jeongguk feels really dumb.

“May I?” you tentatively ask. “Your feet will get cold if we don’t—and you have the IV on so you won’t be able to use your hands—”

“It’s okay…” Jeongguk’s response startles you. “Thank you.”

You nod and sit by his feet to put on the new socks. Jeongguk feels the tears again but he tries to hold them back as he feels your touch and your warm fingers graze his bare, cold skin. When you’re done putting them on him, you smile to yourself.

“Does that feel better?” you ask.

Jeongguk nods and hums. He took his time to look at you and to his mild surprise, you reciprocated. A sense of stillness seemed to occur like time stopped just so Jeongguk could fully take in the sight of you.

He hurriedly tries his best to memorize all your features—old and new. Your face is smaller, your cheekbones higher; both indicative of you losing a bit of weight since he saw you last. Your eyes are softer, but also more tired. You also grew out your hair. 

To Jeongguk, you are still so beautiful.

And he missed you so much that his heart hurt again at the thought of losing you.

“How are y—” Jeongguk tries to ask, but the door to his hospital room slid open, revealing a disheveled Yoongi.

“Jeongguk, are you okay? What happened?”

Jeongguk notices you quickly moving aside to give Yoongi room. 

“I’m fine, Yoongi. I guess I just passed out and—”

“You had another panic attack, Jeongguk. That’s the second time this week. Have you taken your medication?”

Yoongi’s string of questions had Jeongguk feeling anxious. He just had the unexpected chance of seeing you again but under the most dire circumstances. Surely, it wasn’t the time for you to hear about his mental health issues.

“Yoongi, can we—” Jeongguk tried to save face, but Yoongi was faster. 

Yoongi turns to you and hugs you. “I’m sorry, ____, you must have been so confused.”

“No, not at all, I’m… I’m glad I could be of help,” you reassure. More so for Jeongguk because you know this must be very awkward for him. 

A bit of awkwardness did happen because none of you spoke for a bit. Your phone ringing was the only saving grace.

“Hello? Oh, okay. I’ll be right out,” you answer the other person on the line. Hanging up, you say, “Um… I should get going.”

“Is someone picking you up?” Yoongi asks.

“Yes, Taehyung’s just a few minutes away,” you answer.

Yoongi nods and pulls you in for another hug. He whispers his thanks and you respond by hugging him tighter.

You also approach Jeongguk a little closer. “Take care of yourself, Jeongguk.” You see the pain in his eyes, but you refuse to acknowledge it to yourself, even if Jeongguk’s eyes were brimming with unshed tears and his nose was already pink.

Jeongguk doesn’t want you to go. But again, he has no choice but to let you.

“You too, ____.”

As soon as you close the door, Jeongguk allows his tears to fall.

As soon as you get into the car, Taehyung asks his questions.

“Why the hell did you just come out of a hospital?”

“Tae—”

“Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere? You’re the only one there? What happened?” You can feel the panic rising in Taehyung as he inspects you, but you just chuckle.

“Yah—you laugh?”

“I’m fine, Taehyung,” you tell him but he doesn’t look convinced. “I really am.”

“Then why were you in there?”

“I saw Jeongguk again, Tae,” you calmly respond.

Taehyung freezes. “You’re joking, right?”

“I’m not,” you answer.

“And you’re… are you okay?”

“I am.”

Taehyung knows you better than that but he gives you a pass because he could also tell you were tired and your short answers mean that you didn’t want to talk just yet.

“Do you want to talk about it over ice cream and fries?”

For a second, you felt tempted, but you just also wanted to go home. “Maybe some other time, Taehyung.”

Taehyung understands immediately and nods. “Should I take you to Woosung hyung or do I take you home?”

You do want to see Woosung because you know he is what you need, but you also don’t want to burden him with a bombshell of an event so you opt to be alone for the night. “Take me home, please.”

“Okay, ____,” Taehyung answers.

The rest of the car ride was a quiet one.

The short walk in the hallway leading to your home is a heavy one. As you punch in your passcode, you deeply sigh. You want nothing more than to collapse on the bed and ruminate on what just happened over the past few hours.

However, the moment you open the door, a wave of delicious scents welcomes you home. As you take off your shoes, you see a familiar pair. You smile to yourself as you place yours beside it. 

You enter your home further and see Woosung with his back to you, working his way in the kitchen. As if on cue, Woosung turns around and walks toward you. 

“Hey you,” you say with a smile.

“Hi,” Woosung responds, gathering you in his arms and pulling you into a tight embrace. “Did you have a good day, today?”

You feel yourself swallow once before nodding. Woosung, ever the sensitive boyfriend, holds you tighter.

You know you can’t hide from him. So you hold on to him tighter, too.

And you allow yourself to break down and cry.

Woosung feels your body shake and he runs his hand across your back to soothe you. 

He may not know what’s going on right now, but he also knows you will talk to him when you’re ready. So he continues to embrace you; kissing the side of your head after a while.

Woosung whispers against your ear, “You’re safe with me, sweetheart.”

taglist: @whoa-jo @nays2112 @junecat18 @jk97bam @butterymin @smdnai

tags for interested readers will be open for as long as this fic is ongoing! let me know in the comments or message me, whatever fits your preference!

[emeraldkniight]

Could you do an enemies to lovers NSFW with Damian?

p.s. I’d just like to say your writing is SO good for someone whose first language isn’t English! I would not have known

ANIMALS !

older!damian x fem!reader

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀. . . drabble. smut. porn without plot. Dirty talk, degradation. Dacryphilia, humiliation kink, praise kink, Damian is mean. Some bdsm. Aggressive sex, bondage. Oral sex and fingering, p in v.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁. . . no copying of my work is allowed. Free translation is allowed as long as I am credited.

𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲. . . as I said in my other posts, English is not my first language. I have tried to make corrections with the translator, but as you all know, it is prone to making mistakes, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or if anything sounds weird.

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲. . . Okay, I get it. Damian is your favorite character on my account, I get requests for him all the time and I love that because who doesn't love Damian? So here we go again. By the way, I'm glad you liked my writing! It is almost impossible for me to write without any grammar or vocabulary mistakes, but I keep trying! Thanks🌷 (Pd: if you reblog this post it would help me a lot) <3

— Do you want to stop?

From the vulnerability of your bed, shackled hand and foot, you thought it was a bad decision to bother Damian for so long. You thought you were just being funny, that no one would care that you were harassing Bruce Wayne's son. You had no idea what he was capable of doing to you.

— No.

A mischievous smile played on his lips as he stood over you; you could feel his weight on your body. In an instant, however, you felt yourself fall hard against the mat in the room.

— What do you have to say now? — He admired you from on high. — Aren't you the same funny girl you always were?

The sole of his shoe brushed your cheek. You felt incredibly humiliated, as if you were an inferior being in his presence. He looked at your body as if it were worthless.

— This would be amazing for anyone to see you: tied up, naked, on my bedroom floor. I can see your dripping pussy from up here. Who knew the amazingly cool girl would like this? — His shoe began to press harder against the flesh of your face. — You like it rough, guess what, I'm the best at it when I put my mind to it.

The wetness from your pussy dripped down your legs, leaving gray stains on the carpet. Damian, aware of this, walked around to stand behind you to get a close-up view of your ass. He easily slid a finger through your swollen folds and instantly it was stained with so much accumulated moisture.

— Damian, what are you going to do? — you asked, somewhat anxiously, but received no answer.

He bent his face down until his breath was in contact with your pussy; you quickly felt a mere shiver from your nervousness. Soon you felt his lips, and not long after, his whole hand making an obscene sound inside you; sliding up and down your wet folds, not yet reaching the pleasurable point that made you go wild.

— Damian... — You moaned softly as you buried your face in the carpet.

He didn't stop moving, he just kept playing with every part of her crotch, making you wish he'd concentrate on the throbbing clit that needed attention.

One of his fingers hovered around your clitoris and began to caress it gently. Just as you thought you were about to come, he pulled away.

— Didn't I tell you, y/n? Bad girls don't have orgasms.

You quickly began to cry. You knew that if he didn't give it to you, it would be incredibly impossible for you to get that orgasm on your own. So from your position, you just moved closer and started begging.

Kneeling down, you approached him and looked at him with your tearful eyes. Lamenting, with your face at the level of his knees, you still looked at him from the ground.

— Damian, please... — You sobbed. — I'm sorry for all the things I've done to you, but I really need you. I want you to fuck me. I'll do anything you want.

The young man simply smiled as he watched his enemy from his clearly superior position.

— Lool at this, the famous y/n now begging losers for some attention? I feel sorry for you. — He said in reference to how you used to tell him he was a loser.

He cut your bonds with a knife. You felt relief as the blood began to flow again.

You didn't notice as he grabbed your neck, almost choking you. He pulled you roughly close to his face until his lips collided with yours in a dirty, loveless kiss.

Finally, he pushed your face to the floor and lifted your ass until it was in the ideal position to fuck you. Without further ado, he rammed you hard and began to move hard inside you. As hard and precise as if he were an animal.

— What's the matter? Is it incredibly hard to believe that only I can fuck you like this?

[revasserium]

college fencer!zoro headcanons; not nsfw but a bit risque below the cut, fem!reader, in the same universe as death before decaf, prev fic knowledge not required but helpful. enjoy ;)

college fencer!zoro who is just as shit at studying as you’d always expected, falls asleep in any class that doesn’t have to do with sports and food (though you were truly shocked at how many subjects your uni has that do involve either one or the other), but comes with you to every single one of robin’s academic decathlon contests, just because he knows its important to you.

college fencer!zoro who tugs off his shirt the first time you bury your face in his pillow to complain about the upcoming anatomy quiz, smirking when you blink up at him, cheeks dusting pink, a question in your eyes as he lets out a protracted sigh, glancing away with, “well — you’ve got a live model right here so…”

college fencer!zoro who realizes he’s bitten off way more than he can chew when you press him down onto the tiny twin bed, a trio of colored skin-safe markers in hand, your eyes glinting in the dull light of his feeble dorm lamp, tracing a delicate finger along each muscle group before reciting the name and function out loud and labeling the name on his bare skin; he tries not to think about the softness of your thighs as they straddle his waist, or the way the curve of your ass shifts just above where a gnawing tightness is gathering between his legs.

college fencer!zoro who spends the rest of the night forcing you to name the different muscle groups in your upper thigh while he traces them over with his tongue.

college fencer!zoro who glowers at anyone who tries to partner with you in practical applications, even when you roll your eyes and tell him that you’re supposed to be learning about how to treat a variety of body types — not just him; who pins you with a look and asks, completely seriously, who the fuck else you think you’ll be treating for the rest of your sports medicine career, who, when you ask him what he means, only cocks his head and says, “as if i’d let you touch anyone else.” before stalking away.

college fencer!zoro who never lets you out of his sight at frat parties, sticks close even if he’s drunk enough to laugh at someone else’s jokes, who makes a habit of grazing the tips of his fingers along the bend of your waist just to remind of you of his presence, who only grins when the rest of the fencing team teases about being secretly whipped, responding with, “yeah, and?” in such a casual tone that no one else dares to say anything else about it; who tells you that jealousy looks good on you whenever you pout at him talking to another girl, but will let you talk to other guys so long as you know you’ll feel it in the way he sinks his teeth into the skin of your neck later on that night.

college fencer!zoro who calls you when he’s five minutes late to your date, admitting that he’d gotten lost somehow on the campus that both of you have been frequenting for the past three years; who grumbles an apology when you finally find him clear across campus, in the entire opposite direction, and you’ve definitely missed your reservations, but still insists on going on a date anyways; who laces his fingers between yours and lets you pull him into a shop with pink walls and too many neon signs and the fruitiest cocktails he’s ever tasted, but who will still smile sweet and wide as you look over the menu with contented, eager eyes, because your happiness has always been more important to him than any missed reservation.

college fencer!zoro who, in the midnight dark, shifts to pull you into his chest and murmur into your hair, “stay with me…” to which you reply with a sleepy, “yeah… ‘m not going anywhere…” and him, “good. cause forever’s a long time and i don’t plan on spending it alone.”

[leclsrc]

could i req a threesome with charlos :))) thank u so much and happy holidaysss!

motorsport – cl16, cs55

genre: pwp, drabble

Carlos joins in on some fun between you and your boyfriend on the way back to the hotel.

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... threesome, car sex, dumbification, degradation, dirty talk really, voyeurism/exhibitionism, edging

auds here... hope u like it anon and everyone :) sry this came so late!

You giggle into Charles’ hair when he bites into your neck, mumbling a flirty stop it when he nibbles another mark just under your jaw. His lovebites are notoriously difficult to cover up, always settling into the darkest of blues and purples that no concealer can win against. 

But that’s not what you’re worried about. That’s not what’s slowly dragging you out of the reverie of your inebriated state, forcing you to sober up and think with clarity. Charles is busy, kissing along your jaw, letting his thumb ghost over your tits, alternating those touches with hasty yanks of your dress upward.

It’s the fact that Carlos is fully sober, barely two feet away, driving all of you to your hotel.

“Charles, baby,” you say, louder this time. You suddenly feel shy remembering Carlos’ presence, like a kid caught stealing a cookie. “This can wait.” He stops moving against your neck, lets his lips travel upward until they’re pressed against your ear, then turns away from you and toward the driver’s seat in front.

“I really don’t think it can wait,” Charles says. “Do you mind, Carlos?”

“Mind what?” The latter coughs, feigning disinterest. 

“Watching my girlfriend cum in the backseat.”

A thick, tense silence spreads like fog over the car. You shut your eyes, body welling up with shame and yet arousal at the thought of being watched, played with. Used. You push your raked-up dress down further, but a hand circles your wrist to stop you. It’s a signal. Wait.

“I don’t,” Carlos says, voice low. Something stirs in the pit of your stomach. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” Charles says, smiling, “why don’t you give him a show?” You bite your lip, nodding, letting your boyfriend drag your dress upward, higher, until all you see is black lace. The delicate material is pushed aside to make way for Charles’ fingers, teasing against your pussy.

He runs a knuckle in between your folds, his thumb rough against your clit. You throw your head back. “Please,” you whimper.

Carlos can’t believe what he’s listening to right now. Prior to this, you’d been Charles’ girlfriend, the funny, pretty girl he saw every so often during race weekends. But it takes one bottle of Fireball—now you’re moaning in his backseat. Giving him a show. He knows he shouldn’t like this so much, but he’s painfully hard, and even more painfully close to swerving this car off the highway.

For his own sake, he’s actively trying to hold off on looking into the rearview mirror unless he feels he truly needs to, because he knows what he sees is going to be the death of him.

Behind him, you rut against Charles’ fingers, a silent plea for him to stuff them into you. He’d gotten you into this mess, might as well grant you an orgasm, too. But your grinding does nothing but make you so much wetter, until his fingers are almost dripping with your slick. A frustrated, quiet moan slips out of you. It’s not enough.

“Carlos, mate.” You blink—why is Charles calling his attention? “Apologies for this little brat beside me. She’s made a bit of a mess.”

Your eyes travel down, shame running through you at the sight of your slick dripping onto Carlos’ car seat. You really did make a mess, you think, whining when Charles knocks his thumb against your clit to gain your attention.

Carlos clicks his tongue. “I’d been told you were a good girl,” he says. You pretend to remain nonchalant, eyes trained on the road ahead, suddenly cornered. Charles chuckles beside you, remarks some crass sentence about how you just got even wetter. 

“I am good,” you insist. “I’ll prove it.”

Your boyfriend shoves two thick fingers into you, watching and feeling you clench around him, more slick pouring out of your tight hole. He thrusts them in and out, pushing you into a blissed out state. You grind harder against his hand, involuntary moans escaping your mouth as you near release.

You’re so tight, so close, in such a short amount of time—Charles can guess why. He stuffs a third finger in, doesn’t wait up for you to feel the stretch as they pump in and out of you. Your brain is clouded, focusing only on how his fingers press, hard and insistent, against the spot inside of you that makes you whine.

He doesn’t slow down, reaching deep and rubbing against your g-spot when his other hand grabs your jaw and forces you to look at him. Your mind is barely coherent, eyes fluttering with ecstasy. You gonna be a good girl? He asks. 

You nod, delirious. Then he says: Go apologize to Carlos.

Suddenly shy, you freeze and shake your head, but his fingers slow as a result. It’s clear he’s telling you, not asking, and you grit your teeth and throw your head back. “I said apologize, sweetheart,” he says, voice deceivingly charming as he feels you pulse around him.

“Carlos,” you say, shaky, “I—I’m sorry.”

Charles takes a moment to thrust even harder, to muddle your brain even more, get you drooling and dumb just for them. You’re losing your train of thought, Carlos knows this, but still he asks, “Sorry for what?”

“I’m sorry for making a mess,” you say. You could sob with how intense Charles’ fingers fuck into you, fast into your greedy, sopping cunt. “A big mess. Made a big mess.” Your voice is damp and breathless with the need to cum, your hips rolling to meet Charles’ hand. He rubs your swollen clit in tight circles, knocks louder whimpers out of you. All anyone can hear is the squelch of your pussy and your pathetic moans.

“Gonna cum, princess?” Charles asks, voice rough against your ear. You nod desperately. You can almost taste release, climax—then. “Carlos, should we let her cum?”

Charles continues thrusting and you stave off your orgasm, whining. He’s basically using you, holding a coherent conversation while he drives you to finishing. Carlos tuts. “She’s been good, Charles. Go ahead, let her cum.”

“You have, haven’t you?” Charles asks, and you nod along, biting your lip to channel your pleasure somewhere. Your eyes gravitate toward the rearview mirror, glassy and huge, waiting for Carlos to look. To give you attention, to see how wrecked he and your boyfriend have gotten you in the backseat of his own car. Charles has you shaking and eking out whimpers and moans then, so overwhelmed with pleasure you’re gushing slick all over the seat again.

Your tongue lolls out and you gasp, meeting Carlos’ eyes right then. “Fuck, Charles—I’m—I’m gonna cum, Carlos, I—!”

He thrusts one last time into your overstimulated pussy, your thighs shaking as your release spills all over his wrist and the seat. You pant, spent. Blinking through the haze of your orgasm, you find yourself belatedly realizing you’ve been parked at the basement level already. 

Carlos unbuckles his seatbelt. “About that apology, baby...”

[ashlynredonovitch]

Saw you're looking for requests 😁 i haven't seen the wonka movie yet tbh but the gif of him covered in chocolate lives in my head rent free and I'd love to see wonka x fem!reader where they're friends and both have a crush on each other. she's helping him clean up from chocolate incident and it turns into some silly fluff and one of them accidentally says "i love you" and they finally confess :)

Thank you so much for the request, and don’t worry about the double-send it’s completely okay! I hope this is what you envisioned!

Warnings: none it’s just cute

Chocolate Towel

Willy, who’s covered in some brown, thick, substance. Assumingly chocolate knowing the trio of unliked chocolatiers. You start your way over to him as Noodle skips over to Abacus for a hug. You take notice that she’s covered in the same thing.

“Y/n,” Willy almost yells once he notices your presence,excusing himself from the family he was talking to. He wraps his arms around your waist as you reciprocate his hug.

“Hi, Willy,” you giggle lightly, taking in the chocolate scent, cause now it’s definitely chocolate, “what did they do to you? You’re so sticky.”

Willy’s brows furrowed at your worried expression as he took a glance at your appearance as well, making sure you were alright, “well, I’m fine now, they tried to drown Noodle and I in chocolate, but the little orange man saved us.”

“I’m sorry, what?” You questioned, backing up out of the hug. No way the little orange man was real.

“Yeah, we were being lifted by thousands of gallons of chocolate, we both took a breath, and then the next thing I knew I heard Noodle and I gasping for air and the tank was lowering,” Willy said, as he looked at your now even more worried expression, “it was scary, though, I swore that last breath I took was it. That I’d never see light again, that I’d never see you again.”

“Oh, Willy.” You muttered, throwing your arms back around him, simply taking in his presence, as you feel his arms squeeze tighter around you, his face in your neck, “I was so worried.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Willy apologized as you leant against each other.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Mr. Wonka, you almost died. I’m very glad you didn’t though.” You teased as Willy let his face contort to a smile at the name, “come on, we have to clean you up.”

You take Willy’s hand as you lead him down towards the dock, where you take off the hand towel from your waistband, to dip it in the lake water below the stairs.

“Y’know, y/n, this is where the Cartel sent me off on the boat,” Willy explained as you wrung out the excess water, convenient that you had a towel on you, the one perk of you being trapped in a laundry, he supposed.

“You did tell me that,” you dabbed the now wet towel along his face, clearing some of the chocolate, avoiding looking into his eyes.

Willy watched in amusement as you kept dipping the towel in the water because of its small size against the rather thick layers of chocolate on him, “I appreciate your effort, thank you.”

You smile as you take the chance to look directly at him, “of course, I’d do anything to help you, Willy. Besides, your chocolate smells better than this anyway,” you confess as he squeezes your arm with the towel, stopping your motions of cleaning him up. With your free hand, you bring it to his once curly hair to try to break apart the matted chocolate covering it.

Willy just leans into the touch as your fingers try to thread through it, his fixed gaze upon your lips, “I love you,” he whispered before his eyes slightly went wide.

You focus your eyes on his as he quickly snaps his up away from your lips, smirking slightly, “Willy-“

“No, sorry, I didn’t mean that. I mean, I did, just not now, while I’m half-covered in chocolate.” Willy rants as you stare affectionately at him.

“Y/n, what is it?” Willy asks as he brings his right hand up to cup your cheek.

“I-” you started to say, before you saw his eyes glance back down to your lips, “I love you too.”

Willy’s eyes, once again, grew as he looked into your eyes for any glimpse of the truth.

You smile as you put your hand on his, which was still on your cheek, your other hand still in his hair, “I do, I love you Willy Wonka.”

Willy beams as he throws his resting hand in your waist to bring you closer, putting his forehead against yours, “I want to kiss you, y/n,”

You smile as your hand starts to massage his head, putting your other hand over his shoulder, “please.”

Willy wasted no more time as he closed the distance between you, his soft lips covering yours as you leaned into the kiss. Getting even closer as you feel his hand tighten around our waist.

“Willy,” you gasp, pulling away, seeing his now kissed-pink lips, breathing heavily.

“Yeah?” He asks leaning in for a much more simple peck this time, taking one of his hands to tilt your chin up to his. Both of you with rosy stained cheeks.

“I’m glad you didn’t die, but I’m glad you got covered in chocolate,” you whisper with a giggle as Willy holds your chin in his hand.

“Me too, y/n, me too.” Willy says as you lean back in for another passionate kiss.

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Padawan pt. 1

Padawan Anakin x Padawan F Reader

Warnings: fighting (sabers), Muay Thai, underage drinking, masturbation

Info: Padawan Ani is painfully awkward, confused and sad. Poor guy. Reader nickname is Bunny.

“Anakin.” You called, smiling softly.

“This one getting the best of you?” You asked teasingly “me too, everytime I try it.”

Anakin's head snapped up at the sound of a feminine voice, his eyes widened in surprise as he saw you standing there. He took in your appearance; covered in dust and sweat, your normally neat appearance had taken on a wild look.

He took not of your eyes filling with amusement as you leaned against the wall, arms crossed over your chest. He couldn't help but notice how different you looked in the revealing top that clung tightly to your curves, accentuating your figure.

"Bunny! What are you doing here?" Anakin asked, quickly getting to his feet and wiping off the sweat on his forehead before straightening his robes.

His brow furrowed in realization that he had called you by your nickname, something he hadn’t done in a long time.

As you locked eyes, he felt a strange mix of relief and unease wash over him; relief because seeing someone familiar calmed him slightly, and unease because there was something about your presence that tickled those old feelings deep inside him. Ignoring it, he cleared his throat nervously.

"Uh, anyway.” He grumbled.

“I was returning from the gardens… Muay Thai practice. Alone again of course.” You sighed.

You smiled softly, none of the other Jedi used martial arts, but you had found it an important skill to incorporate into your daily lightsaber training.

“I felt your presence and thought I’d say hello, I sensed your annoyance.” You giggled shyly.

Anakin raised an eyebrow in surprise before a grin spread across his face. "Wow, you really are observant."

He chuckled lightly, taking a few steps closer but kept a distance between you as a custom required of Jedi.

"Well, thanks. I apologize for being such a mess right now; this damn simulation... it always gets the best of me."

He rolled his eyes playfully, reaching out his hand towards you with a hopeful expression.

"Could you... help me with something? Just for practice?" His voice held a hint of desperation mixed with determination, praying you’d agree.

“Yes of course!” You agreed, pushing off the wall and accepting his hand, feeling a strange energy between you that you both chose to ignore.

Anakin led you to the center of the training area, motioning for you to stand in front of him.

"Just act like one of those droid targets you see around here," he instructed, moving his lightsaber along the outline of your body slowly and deliberately.

He began by starting at the feet and worked his way upwards, stopping briefly on your thighs, waist, chest, and finally positioning the blade's edge against your neck.

"Now, try to dodge me.” His voice was steady but firm, almost commanding, trying to focus solely on the task at hand rather than the fact that it was actually you standing there.

“Gotcha.” You nodded happily. “Lightsaber for me or no?”

Anakin grinned, handing you a lightsaber hilt-first.

"It's just a training weapon," he said reassuringly, trying not to look at it in your smaller, more delicate hands. He could help but notice how small you were compared to him. Yet something about this situation calmed him down slightly, maybe because it wasn't Obi-Wan standing there anymore?

"Remember, try to dodge and counterattack when you feel ready." His brow furrowed in concentration as he prepared himself mentally for what was to come. As much as part of him wished for you to fail miserably to prove his superiority, another part hoped you would surprise him with agility and skill.

“Do I have your permission to use… non-traditional fighting forms?” You grinned slyly. “After all, you never know what you’ll encounter on the battle field.”

Anakin paused for a second, considering the request. He knew using non-traditional forms wasn't something Jedi should typically resort to but desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Alright,” He finally agreed reluctantly. "But remember, I won't hold back if you start crossing lines."

He took a step back, ready for whatever she had in mind.

This was going to be interesting…

“I expect your best work.” You teased.

You waited for him, watching his upper body as he swung in slicing motions toward your chest. You ducked, landing on your knee and swiping his feet out from under him. Anakin's eyes widened in surprise as he lost his footing, panicking for a fraction of a second before landing on his back. But instead of hurting him, you simply held the practice saber against his chest.

"H-how did you do that?" He panted heavily, heart racing faster than usual.

This newfound physical contact with a girl was too much for him to handle right now; it only served to further inflame those old feelings he tried so hard to suppress. His face flushed from much more than the physical strength he’d exerted.

“Watch my feet and waist. Not my head and saber.” You replied simply, shrugging. “It’s easier to anticipate your opponents next move that way.”

Standing up and offering him your hand, you pulled him up, and started an offensive attack once he was ready.

You lunged forward, using a one handed stabbing motion at his waist. He used a two handed downward stroke to block it, leaving his side exposed. You quickly struck him in the side with your hand, and spun out of reach before he could hit your arm.

Anakin, caught off guard by the speed and agility, barely managed to block the strike aimed at his waist. He grunted in pain as you landed a solid blow on his ribcage, sending a searing jolt through him that left him winded. Staggering backwards, he tried not to show how much it hurt as his vision began to blur around the edges.

"That... fucking hurts!" He growled out, holding his side with one hand while keeping the other stead on his lightsaber's hilt.

Despite his words, a small part of him couldn't help but admire your skill and determination. Maybe there was something to learn from this after all?

“Like I said. Non-Traditional.”You laughed.

Anakin shook his head, trying to regain some composure.

“Are you okay? I didn’t mean to hit you that hard.” You asked genuinely.

"I'm fine," he lied through gritted teeth, taking a few deep breaths to steady himself. "Your move."

His eyes narrowed as he prepared himself for another attack, this time focusing on your movements more closely. He didn't want to let you catch him off guard again like that. You talked while moving, using traditional saber techniques that he could easily parry. Luring him into rebuilding false confidence.

“I trained in Muay Thai, martial arts.” Our lightsabers cracked against each other. “Remember?”

“I use my saber like an extension on my arm.”

He grunted in response to your words, nodding as though he did remember this fact about you.

“When you’re fighting in the ring, you never use two hands like you do when you hold your saber. I strike with one and block with the other.” You grinned, watching his face falter as he reevaluated the way he held his saber.

“People automatically assume my saber is my offense. But it’s not, it’s my way of blocking an attack.” Your voice low as Anakin approached.

Anakin tried to mimic your movements, using his lightsaber in a similar manner. He found it challenging but also liberating; he hadn't practiced this style before and it felt... fresh. The clash of your blades resonated loudly in the otherwise silent training room as you engaged in an intense dance of strikes and blocks.

After several minutes of grueling combat, sweat pouring down both of you, Anakin stumbled backwards, raising his hands in surrender. He panted heavily, leaning against the wall for support. "You are damn good."

His chest rose and fell rapidly as he attempted to catch his breath.

“I can teach you.” You offered genuinely, “if you want?”

Anakin's eyes widened in surprise at the offer, considering it carefully. He nodded hesitantly, "Alright... maybe that would help me..." His voice trailed off as he realized what he had just agreed to.

"Umm.. thanks," he managed to choke out, unable to tear his eyes away from your lithe form moving gracefully around the training area. "We should probably clean up now though..."

“Yeah of course.” You started cleaning up, talking to fill the uncomfortable silence as you worked.

“Discuss it with Obi-Wan and I’ll make sure it’s alright with Plo-Koon. I wouldn’t want them to be upset.” You said matter of factly. “Our masters are in charge of our training, but it’s always beneficial to learn from each other.”

"I'll talk to Obi-Wan about it later," he assured, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

"Uhh... umm..." He cleared his throat uncomfortably, not knowing what else to say. This was definitely new territory for him—training with a fellow padawan instead of just observing or being observed.

“Hmm?” You mumbled at his stuttering.

“I-I’m. Thanks for helping.” He muttered, “I’m gonna go grab something to eat.”

“Alright. Let’s get out of here. I’m hungry too.” You grabbed him by the corner of his robe and tugged him behind you.

Anakin followed, still processing the intense workout you had just shared. His heart rate was finally starting to return to normal, and his headache subsided slightly as adrenaline wore off.

"Sure," he agreed, trying to mask the lingering traces of exhaustion in his voice. You headed towards the 5th level cafeteria, walking side by side without an air of awkwardness that you hadn’t felt with him before.

“That was kind of fun I think.” he said finally, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“Yeah?” You smiled. “it was fun.”

After arriving in the crowded cafe you grabbed a plate and piled on some food, getting a tall glass of ice water as well, and heading toward a table in the corner with Anakin in tow.

Anakin followed closely behind, making sure his own plate held enough food to seem normal for a moment. Once he sat down, he took a small bite of his meal before putting it down on the table and crossed his arms again.

"So... what's up? You never just talk to me without wanting something," He said with a slight tone of suspicion mixed in.

“Well it’s been a long time, that’s all.” You said quietly, masking the hurt from his cold tone.

Anakin studied you carefully, unsure of what to make of her sudden re-interest in him. "Well... yeah, it has been," he admitted reluctantly, choosing not to push on the matter.

"So, how are things with you?" He figured asking about your life would keep the conversation away from himself and prevent any awkward silences.

“It’s been pretty normal. I just got back from Christophsis on a mission.” You sighed. “that task was a waste of time in my opinion.”

“Plo-Koon kept us there for far longer than necessary.” You whispered, not wanting anyone to overhear.

Anakin's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, really?" He took a sip of his water before setting it down on the table.

"Well, at least you're back now," He said hastily trying to keep the conversation flowing. "So, uh... anything interesting happen while you were away?"

“No, that’s just it. Nothing happened. We were there for a whole week and not a single thing occurred worth noting. I’m not sure why we even went.”

Anakin nodded, having shared similar experiences on his missions. "Same here," he admitted, reaching for another mouthful of his food before placing it down again. "But I guess that's just how things go sometimes, huh?"

“Yeah I guess.” You smiled softly. Thinking about my next choice of words carefully.

“Anakin? You know it has been a really long time since we’ve talked. I feel like… we used to be pretty good friends right?” You asked, head tilted.

“Did I do something to make you upset all those months ago?”

Anakin froze mid-bite, his hand still halfway to his mouth. His eyes widened in surprise as he processed the question, a mix of shock and confusion clouds his usually intense gaze.

"Wh-what are you talking about?" He managed to stutter out, setting down the half-eaten food on his plate.

"We weren’t friends," he muttered defensively, feeling irritated by the memory you seemed to be dredging up. "We were just... acquaintances."

The word sounded so false in his own ears, but it was better than admitting they once had shared a bond stronger than mere friendship.

“R-right.” You nodded, soft smile faltering.

“I guess I worded that incorrectly… what I meant was: we used to see each other more often, and I wondered if I had done something to upset you. You’ve hardly looked at me since that assignment we had together a few months ago.” You tried again, talking quickly to get it all out before he could stop you.

Anakin let out a frustrated growl, running his hands through his hair in frustration.

"No, it's not that," he snapped harshly, slamming his fist on the table.

"I... I don't know what's wrong with me lately! I just... I guess I've been dealing with a lot of stuff." He paused for a moment, considering the question more carefully.

"Look, it's none of your business anyway, okay?" He pushed his plate away, feeling exposed and vulnerable sitting there with you watching his every move.

Ani,” You started to reach out, hoping to calm him and then thought better of it.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” You nodded.

Anakin glare for a moment before reluctantly softening his tone. "Fine," he muttered, picking up his food and starting to eat again.

He sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. "And then there's this stupid feeling that won't go away whenever we..."

He stopped mid-sentence, realizing what he had almost confessed. Quickly changing the subject, "So, uh, how's your new droid companion treating you?"

His voice sounded forced, but it was better than admiting his true feelings.

“Um. She’s good, I need to do some repairs though.” You answered quietly. Trying to hide your confusion. What had he started to say?

"Oh yeah? What model is she?" Pretending he hadn't paid much attention to your new droid companion since you’d stopped speaking all that time ago.

“She’s a BD-1. The hydraulics in her left leg aren’t working properly. I call her Betty.”

Well, I'll go check it out then." Anakin said confidently as he walked towards the workshop.

He used his keen senses to navigate through the dusty corridors of the old facility until he finally found the source of the clanging sound. There he saw your little BD-1 droid named Betty struggling with its leg lifted off the ground due to lack of pressure from the damaged hydraulic system. Carefully, he approached the disabled machine and knelt beside it, examining the problem closely.

After several moments of analysis, he determined that a simple replacement part would fix the issue. Pulling out some tools from his utility belt, he went back to his workbench where he rummaged through various compartments until he found what he needed. Returning to the area where Betty was trapped, he began working diligently on repairing her malfunctioning parts.

As he focused intently on fixing the robot companion, something seemed different about him now; almost calmer than usual. Maybe this task provided enough distraction from whatever was plaguing him.

You watched him work on the droid in silence, trying not to smile when Betty kept beeping in protest at Anakin’s tools.

After several minutes of persistent work, Anakin finally inserted a new part into place and flipped a switch. There was a click, followed by a reactivation hum from Betty's systems. Slowly, she lowered herself back onto all fours and spun around in delight, testing her newly repaired leg with quick movements.

"All fixed," Anakin announced with satisfaction, wiping his hands on his pants.

"You can thank me later." He turned to walk away but stopped short when he felt a gentle tug on his arm.

Turning his head, he found himself face-to-face with you standing behind him, your eyes filled with gratitude and something else...something that made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

“Or I could thank you now.” You smiled.

“So, thank you Anakin. I really appreciate it.” You looked at him hopeful that maybe he would start to warm up to you again.

“I had fun today. I’m excited to do it again tomorrow.” You grinned.

"It's fine, Bunny.” He sighed.

“Look, I apologize for acting like that earlier. You didn't deserve that." Rubbing his hands over his eyes before taking a deep breath to calm down.

Turning back towards the door, he forced himself to smile weakly. "Well, we still have some time left today; maybe we could explore a bit of city together?"

Pausing for a moment as they stepped out into the busy streets, he reached out and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Let’s go out for a drink?” You asked slyly, knowing we were both too young to do so.

Anakin chuckled softly, a rare genuine laugh escaping his usually stoic countenance. "Alright, one drink," he agreed, not wanting to disappoint.

You made your way through the bustling streets, blending in with the crowd of various species and ages until you found yourselves in a dimly lit cantina filled with melodious music and smoky atmosphere.

Finding an empty booth, you settled down, ordering two glasses of iced blue milk for you both. As you sipped on your drinks, conversation flowed naturally, topics ranging from favorite foods to random acquaintances met during missions. For once, time seemed to slow down, and the weight of your respective troubles seemed lighter than usual.

Throughout the evening, Anakin couldn't help but be drawn to your radiant smile and laughter; he loved that you had a contagious energy that was hard to resist. Despite his best efforts to maintain distance, he found himself leaning closer, subconsciously seeking more contact.

Your eyes suddenly lit up at the sound of familiar notes being strummed on the guitar.

“C’mon! Please come dance.” You asked excitedly. “please? I love this song I don’t wanna go by myself.”

Anakin hesitated for a moment before reluctantly standing up from the booth.

“Fine," he muttered, following her onto the dance floor.

As you moved in sync to the rhythmic beat of the music, bodies brushed against each other repeatedly, sparking new waves of desire within him. Despite his best efforts to control himself, he found it increasingly difficult to resist your charms.

You moved with such grace and confidence that he almost forgot about everything else around them; just enjoying the simple pleasure of moving with her was addictive. The alcohol from your drinks slowly loosened your inhibitions further, making it harder for him to stop himself from pulling you closer.

See?” You aughed. “it’s not so bad.”

You drank in the electric atmosphere, clinging to Anakin while you danced. Happy and laughing as you saw him finally relax, finally having fun.

Despite his better judgment, Anakin found himself enjoying the dance, losing track of time and space. Bodies pressed against each other intimately, faces mere inches apart. The intoxicating scent of your perfume filled his nostrils, making it impossible for him to remember why he had ever wanted to push you away.

Breathing heavily, he finally pulled away from your embrace, his heart racing faster than before.

"This... isn't appropriate," he managed to croak out, trying to sound stern but failing spectacularly. "We can't..."

Maybe not in here.” You breathed out, looking at his flushed cheeks. “but no one will know out there.”

You nodded toward the back exit where there was an alley way.

Anakin hesitated for a moment longer before relenting, unable to resist temptation.

"Okay... fine," he muttered reluctantly, following you out of the cantina and into the dimly lit alleyway.

As you stepped outside, the cool night air hit you like a cold shower, making him shiver slightly. With renewed determination, he tried to pull away from your grasp, but he stopped— your body radiating warmth against his icy exterior.

"Bunny, please..." He pleaded weakly, attempting to reason with himself as much as with you.

“Do you really want to go your whole life without knowing what it’s like to kiss someone?” You asked quietly, almost pleading with him.

“I don’t.” You said firmly.

Anakin closed his eyes, feeling torn between his duty as a Jedi and the primal desire burning within him. With a deep breath, he lowered his head slowly, lips brushing against yours softly. At first it was tentative, hesitant, but soon enough, the kiss became more passionate, tongues intertwining in a dance of forbidden desires. Bodies pressed harder against each other, fueling the fire burning inside both of you.

Your hands roamed freely, tracing each others' forms without shame or hesitation. Despite knowing better than to succumb to these base urges, he couldn't resist the pull towards you.

Anakin boldly pushed you against the brick wall. You let your hands find purchase in his hair, gently tugging on his locks while your tongue hungrily explored his mouth. You felt yourself shudder at an unfamiliar feeling.

Anakin groaned into the kiss, his hand reaching down to cup your ass cheek, squeezing it possessively. His other hand reached up to grab your waist, pulling you closer still. The sensation of your bodies pressed against each other was driving him wild with desire.

Breaking the intense kiss for a moment, he panted heavily, "Bunny... I—" He couldn't finish the sentence; all coherent thought had flown out the window.

His hands traced slow circles on your bare stomach before sliding upward towards your pert breasts, kneading them roughly . They were small in comparison to his hands fitting perfectly in his palms, nipples hardened and erect from their shared heat.

“Ani- I… I want,” You blushed, involuntarily groaning as he thumbed over your nipple, rolling your core against his hardened cock through layers of clothes.

“Take me home, please.” You whispered into his neck, sucking softly on the tender skin below his ear.

Anakin's heart raced, his mind a chaotic maelstrom of lust and confusion. He knew this was wrong, against everything he believed in—but the pull towards you was too strong to resist. With renewed determination, he broke the kiss, breathing heavily.

"We can't... we shouldn't..." He swallowed thickly before taking hold of your hand again, releasing it reluctantly.

"Come on," he managed to croak out, half-dragging you back inside the cantina. Once you were safely seated, away from prying eyes, he finally pulled away and took a deep breath. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

You felt like crying, everything was feeling was so intense.

“I’m sorry. It’s my fault.” You nodded, my eyebrows furrowed. You stood up, ready to leave.

“I’m so sorry Anakin. I should’ve- I mean…” Your eyes watering. “I’m gonna- I’ll just go back to the Temple.”

You turned away, pushing through the crowd and wiping at hot tears.

Anakin followed, desperately trying to catch up with you.

"Bunny wait! I'm sorry!" He yelled out, but you didn't turn around or slow down.

With each step he took, the pain in his chest grew worse until all he could feel was emptiness inside him. When he finally reached his quarters, Anakin burst through the door and slammed it shut behind him. Jogging through the living space he shared with his master.

He sat down on the edge of his bed, head in his hands as he scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. Staring over at the empty space where you should be beside him.

A shuffled at his bedroom door caught his attention, suddenly he was face to face with Obi-Wan.

“Anakin? What’s happened?” He asked softly, walking over to place a comforting hand on the back of his neck.

Anakin's eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected intrusion, quickly composing himself. "Uh... Master Kenobi," he managed to croak out, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"I was... just... uh..." He gestured vaguely towards the door.

"Well, um... I actually need to talk to you about something." Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to continue.

"B-Bunny and I... we kinda... crossed some lines today."

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe casually. "I see."

He crossed his arms, studying Anakin closely. "And what exactly does that entail?"

Anakin sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. "Well, we danced... and then well-“

He paused, struggling to find words. "We... kissed."

His cheeks burned crimson at the admission. "I... I don't know what came over me. She... she... I mean, it was just... wrong. I apologize."

"Master Kenobi, I—I don't want you to tell anyone about this. Please, I beg of you. It won't happen again." His voice cracked slightly, betraying the turmoil inside him.

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan sighed. “Is she telling her Master?”

“I don’t know… she ran off crying.” Anakin answered, on the verge of breaking out in sobs. “I assume she came back here.”

"I'll handle it myself. Please, I swear it won't happen again." His eyes pleaded with the older Jedi for understanding.

"I... I just need some time alone to clear my mind." With renewed determination, he walked Obi-Wan toward his door and shut him out.

Anakin paced his small room, hands clenched into fists. He knew he should be overwhelmed with guilt and shame but all he could think about was the taste of her lips on his, the feel of her body pressed against his. How did she make everything feel so right?

The clock ticked loudly in the silence, reminding him that time wasn't on his side. With a frustrated growl, he threw himself onto his bed, covering his face with his forearms.

"Why? Why does she have this effect on me?" He muttered to himself, feeling utterly lost.

Anakin's mind was a torrent of conflicting emotions—shame, guilt, desire, and confusion. He couldn't shake the image of your plump ass in his hand, those perfect breasts pressed against his chest. His cock twitched violently, growing harder beneath his robes.

In frustration, he stood up and began to pace again, cursing under his breath. Finally, unable to resist anymore, he stripped off his clothes, exposing his muscular frame to the cool breeze coming through the open window. Moving his hand towards his throbbing member, he closed his eyes, envisioning your soft lips wrapped around him.

With a groan, he began to stroke himself slowly, moaning softly as visions of your curves while you were dancing flashed in his mind's eye. Each thrust of his hips matched the rhythm of his strokes, his muscles tightening in anticipation of release.

Anakin's breath hitched as warmth spread through his core, faster than he could handle. With a strangled cry, he came all over the floor, spurting hot semen everywhere. Breathing heavily, he collapsed onto the cool tile floor, spent and drained.

Whimpering softly, he curled up in a ball, face pressed against the tiles, trying to compose himself. He hadn't cum that quickly in months and certainly never touched himself while thinking of you. Amazement mixed with shame washed over him like waves crashing onshore, leaving him feeling both dirtied and empty inside.

Anakin remained on the floor, panting heavily, trying to calm down his racing heart. Slowly, he stood up and cleaned himself as best he could with a nearby towel, shivering slightly in the cool breeze. He had never felt so exposed or vulnerable in his whole life.

As you slumped to the ground in your own quarters, you couldn’t help but wonder what Anakin was doing. Was he back? Should you go find him? Was he going to tell the council?

You decided it was best to stay in your room. You went to shower and wash away the night’s mistakes. But no matter how hard you scrubbed, you only felt worse.

Finally giving up on washing away the feeling of his skin against yours, you dressed in a night gown. Completing your bedtime rituals as slowly as possible. Pacing the floor snd hoping to the maker that Anakin wouldn’t ruin everything.

As you laid in bed, rest evaded you. Your mind was so loud you couldn’t sleep. You couldn’t even be still, mind racing, body still tingling.

Your thoughts kept drifting to him, the feeling of him pressed against you. Finding yourself wondering what he looked like beneath his robes. What his cock would feel like… and soon enough you found yourself slipping your hands beneath your panties. Pleasuring yourself to the thought of him, praying that he wouldn’t ever find out you were doing this. The Force works in mysterious ways, thinking of someone like this, especially another Force user, could prove disastrous.

You couldn’t stop, couldn’t help yourself, you had to get some release. Softly gasping and moaning his name as you fingered your wet cunt, every second closer to orgasm, the less you regretted your choice.

As your eyes fluttered closed, your memory became reality as you saw Anakin, standing with his hand against the wall. Much like he had been when he was kissing you, only this time he was naked, his hard cock in his hand.

You moaned lowly as you felt a sudden pull of energy, your orgasm washing over you without warning. You laid there breathing heavily, confused and wanting more. Never had you finished so quickly, it was as if it had been stolen away from you, fast enough that if you blinked you’d have missed it.

Tag-List:

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@bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay

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@joshfutturmansrighthand @chaoticantihero @vadersslut @luvvfromme

[amalthea-fictions]

Don’t Mess with MC

Summary: When Sebastian hears about MC’s encounter with a bully her first day in Beasts Class, he decides to take matters into his own hands.

A/N: Inspired by this post from @hogwartslegacypics and some of the comments there! The bully’s name is a play on “Leighton Lawley” from The Raven and the Snake by choccy-milky 😅 Hope you enjoy!

“There she is!”

Sebastian flashes MC a wide smile as she jogs over from across the courtyard. Even without being able to see, Ominis can sense the way Sebastian instantly perks at the girl’s presence.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” MC apologizes, setting her things down and taking a seat on the stone bench next to Sebastian.

“Not at all,” says Ominis.

“Got held up in Beasts Class, did you?” Sebastian makes the inquiry through his first bite of his lunch.

“Not quite,” MC says, pulling her own food from her pack. “I made a new friend, actually.”

Sebastian dramatically flourishes his hand against his chest. “What, Ominis and I not good enough for you?”

MC laughs and shakes her head. “Don’t be silly. The two of you are invaluable to me.”

“Best not to exaggerate, lest it go straight to Sebastian’s head,” Ominis tuts. Sebastian smacks his shoulder.

“It’s not an exaggeration, though!” MC insists.

“Thank you!” Says Sebastian. “At least someone here has my side.”

“Do go on, then,” Ominis prods, ignoring Sebastian. “I, for one, would like to hear about your Beasts Class.”

“Mm,” MC nods through a mouthful of food. “Yes. I was partnered with Poppy Sweeting, who was very kind to me. She even let me keep her brush.”

“Wow, Poppy gave you her beasts brush?” Sebastian says. “You must’ve made quite the impression on her.”

“Indeed. Poppy has a…” Ominis hesitates, finding the polite word. “Reputation for her love of beasts in the school.”

“Hm, perhaps that’s why we hit it off,” MC speculates.

“How do you mean?” Sebastian asks.

“Well, there were some awful bullies picking on a Kneazle—”

Sebastian leans forward. “Bullies?”

“Yes,” MC nods, continuing her lunch. “They were trying to steal a whisker from the thing. Poppy defended the creature, but they mocked her for it. So I stepped in and told them they really weren’t clever for it.”

Sebastian sets his jaw. “Who were they?”

MC quirks her lips. “I’m not entirely sure— I think it was Leight something?”

“Leightly Lawton,” Ominis offers.

“Yes, that was him. Awful fellow.”

Sebastian hums to himself, his brow furrowed. MC had won Crossed Wands, yes, but he had heard the rumors that it was only through his help. Not many people in the school are aware of how talented MC truly is— how, on top of her unyielding kindness and patience, she is an incredibly talented and powerful force, truly in her own league. Out of all the students in the entire school, even 7th years, he wouldn’t pick anyone else he’d want to have his back clearing out a cave full of spiders. And yet, idiots like Lawton would be unkind because of stupid rumors.

“You said you have a Rudimentary Beasts Class, yes?” He asks.

“That’s right,” MC nods. “Why?”

“Oh, just wondering.”

• • • • •

“Professor Weasley, do you have a moment? I’d like to discuss enrolling in the Rudimentary Beasts Class.”

Professor Weasley dips her quill in ink and continues scrawling on the parchment in front of her. “Rudimentary Beasts Class, you say?”

Sebastian nods. “Yes ma’am.”

She finishes her sentence in the menial report for Professor Black and looks up to the boy. “If I recall correctly, Mr. Sallow, you completed your Introductory Beasts Class in third year with no issues.”

Sebastian offers her a charming smile. “That’s correct. However, with O.W.L.’s right around the corner, I am finding I could stand to be refreshed on all I learned third year.”

Matilda sets down her quill and folds her hands. “And you believe you are truly in need of such refreshers, Mr. Sallow?”

He nods earnestly. “Indeed. For example, MC had to recently remind me that spiders are not actually insects.”

Ah, there it is— the real reason behind the request. After years of working as Hogwarts faculty, Matilda has had quite enough practice schooling her expression. So her neutral face went unchanged at the mention of MC’s name. But she wondered how oblivious students thought their faculty truly were, to assume that they wouldn’t catch on to how often the Sallow twin and the new fifth year were seen together, smiling sweetly at each other, laughing and sharing lunches…

However, enrolling in an additional class certainly wasn’t the worst request to make, and Sallow could certainly handle his schoolwork when he actually wanted to pursue something.

“Spiders as insects? My, that is quite discomforting,” Professor Weasley raises her eyebrows. “But are you certain you can handle the additional course in your schedule, Mr. Sallow?”

“Yes ma’am. I think if anything it will be good to keep me occupied with more schoolwork. Staying out of detention, and all that.”

Clever boy. Couldn’t argue with that. “Very well, Mr. Sallow. I will add the Rudimentary Beasts Class to your schedule. However, please note that the second your marks drop, we will revisit this conversation.”

“Of course, Professor. Thank you.”

Matilda doesn’t miss the way that he smiles brightly as he leaves, and heads straight in the direction of MC’s Common Room.

• • • • •

Sebastian wakes up early to make sure he’s the first one to Beasts Class. (Something Ominis would add to his list of ‘things Sebastian does for MC’ to tease him over, later on).

As the class time approaches, the students begin trickling in. Poppy goes straight to the Kneazle pens to feed them. Everett shuffles in begrudgingly, still recovering from a bought of the flu that kept him out of classes even in spite of Sharp’s Pepperup potions. And finally—

“Sallow?” Even from the entry of the pavilion, Sebastian can see the way Lawton’s throat works at the sight of his new classmate.

“Ah, Leight!” Sebastian smiles— but his eyes narrow and expression darkens. “I’ve just transferred into this class. Wonderful, isn’t it?”

Lawton swallows. “Yes, a pleasure. But, um, what made you transfer?”

Sebastian smiles and says, “No reason in particular,” but his icy glare says otherwise.

The boy waits for Sebastian to elaborate. Instead, Sebastian maintains eye contact until Lawton begins to shuffle nervously. Finally, he awkwardly moves to his desk. Sebastian follows him with his gaze, making the bully squirm. Until—

“Sebastian?!”

He snaps towards the voice. MC is beaming as she enters the pavilion, framed in sunlight trickling down through the surrounding trees.

Sebastian utterly melts at the sight.

“Are you in my beasts class now?” MC inquires, ecstatic.

“Indeed I am,” he smiles to her—and, this time his eyes filled with nothing but warmth. Lawton would not fail to notice the difference.

She sets her things down beside Sebastian, and he happily makes room for her. As she settles and unpacks her things, Sebastian leans over her.

“Are these all of the materials I’ll need for class?” He asks, one arm framing her figure as he gestures to her brush and kibble.

“I believe so, but mind I’m still relatively new as well,” she says. As she speaks, Sebastian isn’t looking at her. He’s slowly turning his head to lock eyes with Lawton.

“Are these things any different from when you took the class in third year?” MC asks, rummaging through her bag for her quill.

Sebastian is still wrapped around her. “Oh,” he says, looking directly at Lawton. “I think this time around will be much different.”

Sebastian is sure that if Lawton were to retract into his shirt collar any further, he would become a turtle.

“Oh, but wait!” MC gasps, looking up. “If you’re my partner, there will be an uneven amount of students. I don’t want Poppy to be alone again.”

“Actually, there will not be an odd number of students,” says a new voice from behind them both.

Sebastian and MC spin around.

“Natty!” MC exclaims. “You’re in this class now, too?”

Natty clasps her hands together and smiles. “I am. I am happy that we can be here together.”

“Me too!”

Sebastian and Natty lock eyes. The small smirk on Natty’s face may have been lost to MC as her just being happy to be there, but it was a loud and clear signal to Sebastian.

“Actually, MC,” he says, “I think you probably couldn’t have a more knowledgeable partner than Poppy Sweeting for this class. I think you would be better off to stay with her.”

“Oh,” MC tilts her head, “will you and Natty partner then?”

“Actually, I think it would be best to differentiate, so that the new students are not together,” Natty says thoughtfully.

“Exactly!” Sebastian follows up loudly. “I can partner with Leightly. We are in the same house, after all.”

“And I will take Leightly’s previous partner,” says Natty.

Sebastian casts a wicked smile and waves with fake enthusiasm to Lawton— who has gone completely pale.

Poppy enters the pavilion and MC moves to excitedly explain how all of her friends are now in the same class together. Sebastian takes the opportunity to stride over to his new partner.

Lawton flinches as Sebastian throws his arm over the boy’s shoulder.

“This is going to be a fantastic semester, don’t you think, Leightly?”

[in-my-shifting-era]

Not In The Mood

(Draco Malfoy Angsty but ends Fluffy)

Summery: Having a playful academic rivalry with Draco Malfoy results in some mainly playful banter. What happens when reader has a bad week and Draco is the only person to try and fix it.

Warning: Some mature language. Maybe some strong language. Draco is kinda a softie in this.

Authors note: Draco won my poll! This is my first blurb of him for let me know what we think.

————————————————————————————————————————

You’ve been having a bad week. On Monday you got detention for being late to class because your alarm didn’t go off. Tuesday you spilt ink on your brand new uniform shirt. On Wednesday you snapped at your best friend and she’s giving you space. Then on Thursday you lost 15 house points for laughing at a prank pulled on Snape during class. When Friday came around you prayed it would be a good day. All was good throughout the day. That was until you got back your Transfigurations test from the last class and getting a bad mark.

To get away from the week you’ve had you decided to hide away in the Hogwarts library to try an escape into your new book. This plan didn’t last very long because a smug laugh interrupted your peaceful moment. “How did I know I’d find you here? A bore like you would spend their Friday evening in the library.” You looked up from your book to see Draco with his signature smirk as he leaned against the shelf you were sat by. You gave him and exhausted sigh and closed your book. “I’m not in the mood for your shit Malfoy; I’ve had a bad week.”

Your voice was flat. You didn’t really sound annoyed or rude with your words. To the blonde you just sounded numb. He wasn’t getting the rise out if you that he wanted. He shifts himself off the shelf to stand closer as his playful gaze softens. “Yeah I’ve kinda noticed you’ve been in a mood all week. I even heard you called Granger a stick in the mud. I actually want to talk about what happened their?” He’s pushing at your buttons but you won’t give him the satisfaction of his comment getting you to talk back to him.

Rolling your eyes at his comment you look at him fully now “Seriously Draco leave me alone. I’m on a streak of saying things I regret and I’d refuse to apologize to you if I hurt your feelings.” Your tone was playful this time making Draco’s lips turn up into the slightest smile. You take this moment of neutrality to get up and put your book back into your bag. You start to walk around him. You’re stopped when You from walking past him by stepping in your way.

“Go for a walk with me. Going for a walk always helps me clear my head” A look of uncertainty falls onto your face not knowing what to think of Draco’s offer. Draco notices your hesitation and sighs softly. “Don’t be a stick in the mud now. I promise to play nice.”

A smirk finds its way back to Draco’s face as you roll your eyes and give him a playful glair. You push your shoulder against him playfully as you walk past him towards the door. “ Can you do something nice for someone without making a snarky comment Malfoy?” He smiles to himself seeing your attitude return and follows behind you. “What would be the fun in that? My snarky comments are part of my charm darling.” You roll you eyes at him and let out a small laugh as you walk out of the library with him.

The comfortable silence that followed as you two walked the empty corridors brought you a small moment of peace. You look at the blonde and see his usually tense and guarded demeanor is replaced with an comforting presence. His eyes scan the many paintings that line the halls of Hogwarts. He turns his head having felt you staring into him and cover yourself by asking him a question.

“How did you know about my test score? We don’t have Transfigurations together so I know you didn’t see it some how.” Draco looks down lightly and let’s out an awkward laugh. “Uh Blaise actually told me. He sits near you and he told me you looked disappointed when you got your test back.” You give him shocked look. “Do you have your friend keeping tabs on me Draco?”

Draco scoffs lightly and rolls his eyes. “ No I don’t. He knows about our academic banter and he was telling me to leave you alone on this one. I had to still poke my fun but I wanted to make sure you were okay. Failing a test is not like you at all so I figured something more was going on.” He gave you a sympathetic smile as he says this. Something you’ve never seen often from the tough Slytherin.

Your demeanor softens and you smile up at him. “You’re the only person to notice I was struggling this week so thanks Draco.” A soft smile fall onto his face Draco’s face. He hold your gaze with his gray eyes staring into yours. “I may like to get under you skin sometimes but never aim to intentionally be cruel do you.”

In this moment you’re seeing a side of Draco you’ve never seen before. The burning blush that hides on your cheeks as you both bicker back an fourth if fully dusting your cheeks a rosey red. Talking like this with Draco feels nice. You like seeing this side of Draco. Truly you bring it out of him. Through he would never admit that.

[thedeerman]

RadioApple Fic:

Do You Want To Know?

Hey all, this is the first chapter of my little slow burn radioapple fic. Please let me know what you think, I don’t write much!!

Ch1: A New Idea

It’s been three weeks since the attempted extermination. Three weeks since Lucifer just barely saved the life of his daughter in a fight that nearly killed everyone she cared about. Three weeks since he helped to build the new hotel and moved into his very own suite. It’s been both terrible and beautiful for Lucifer. He had hardly spoken to another soul for years and now was thrown into daily gatherings with sinners he didn’t know. Some of which he certainly didn’t care to know. But those gatherings also included his daughter. His wonderful, smart, passionate, forgiving daughter. I don’t deserve her, Lucifer thinks constantly. He spent years neglecting their relationship, burying himself in his own sorrow, and yet Charlie welcomed him in without a second thought. Without even asking for an explanation or apology for his years of absence. He’s not sure where she got such a big heart, but he’s beyond grateful that she has it. And as an attempt to show her just how dedicated he is to helping her see out her dream, he’s been showing up for every morning meeting. Every ‘family’ dinner. Every chore list, cooking schedule, errands run, nearly anything that could be signed up for, he does. Lucifer didn’t mind chores much. Cooking was fun and he could be experimental (in a way that didn’t include human remains, much to the other residents’ delight). Doing dishes or laundry was something as monotonous and calming as making ducks and other little trinkets. And on the days when he really just wasn’t in the mood to deal with it, he simply used his magic to help him get it done quickly. No matter how emotionally taxing, how time consuming, or how frustrating the task was, Lucifer was ready and willing to do anything he could to help his daughter succeed.

It’s because of this that Lucifer ends up on the attendance list for all of Charlie’s ’family’ activities for the hotel. It doesn’t seem too bad at first, but as the activities get to be a little more personal, Lucifer ends up regretting how agreeable he was to his daughter’s every request. A bit too late to be kicking myself for that now... Lucifer thinks as he sits in yet another hotel ‘family’ meeting. The ‘family’ being Charlie of course, her girlfriend Vaggie, the spider demon/porn star Angel, the grumpy bartender Husk, the scary little maid (the one that killed Adam, no less) Niffty, Angel’s one eyed bomb loving friend Cherri, now Lucifer, and... Ugh. This guy, the fallen angel thinks, as the final ‘family’ member graces them with his presence by appearing from the shadows. Alastor... What a pain in the ass. Lucifer doesn't actually have much reason to hate the demon aside from his frustrating theatrics and his need to always be the one Charlie pays the most attention to. Whatever game you’re playing, I’ve got my eye on you, he’s always thinking.

“Alrighty everyone!” His daughter’s voice catches Lucifer’s attention. “Now that we’re all here, I’d like to announce that we will be trying a new activity!” There are a series of groans from the group. None from Alastor, of course. But his creepy, always there smile seems strained, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as Charlie continued. “So! You all know how we’ve been trying out some new ideas as test runs for new residents,” she starts. Yes, and it’s been excruciating. No one involved has been enjoying being guinea pigs for Charlie’s therapy experiments. The only silver lining being that the new residents wouldn’t have to suffer the same fates, as each and every “new activity” so far has been tossed out after a resounding failure of some kind or another. Fights, tears, broken furniture, and excessive day drinking have occurred both during and after a few of these sessions. Her ideas weren’t terrible in concept, but in practice, with demons and fallen angels and souls under contract, they just weren’t working. Lucifer’s attention is once again brought to the front of the room as Charlie continues.

“And yes, I understand that the past few exercises we’ve tried... haven’t exactly ended well.” Lucifer hates the sad look in her eyes as she considers her failures, but it’s gone as quickly as it arrived. “But after a lot of discussion and thinking about how and why our previous activities went so....” She pauses, looking for the right word. “Awful? Terrible? Destructive? Shitty? Depressing?” Angel adds. Vaggie glared his way but the demon wasn’t paying any attention. “Yes, thank you Angel,” Charlie says hesitantly. “So! I took those... experiences... into account while creating this one!” Lucifer shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He was a huge fan of Charlie living out her dream, but he wasn’t a huge fan of having to be this close to the action. He lets out a small sigh. I can’t abandon my place as her dad again. Charlie paused for a moment to reach into a bag and hand a bundle of items to Vaggie. Small strips of paper and markers. As Vaggie started passing them out to each of them, Charlie explains. “First thing’s first, I need everyone to write their names down. Once you’ve written your name, please give your paper to Vaggie.”

Lucifer’s anxiety starts up, as it always does when he’s involved in one of his daughter’s ‘family’ activities. He just hopes whatever comes of this involves less property damage than before. He hands his paper back to Vaggie as she walks around to collect them. Giving the papers back to her partner, Vaggie continues the instructions. “You will now each receive a randomly chosen name. The name on your paper will be for your eyes and your eyes only. Do not tell anyone else the name that you got.” Charlie excitedly passes the papers back out, now folded shut. “Except for me!” she interrupts. “I’m going to make a note of who gets who for the sole purpose of understanding the effectiveness of this activity. Don’t worry, no one else will get to see!” Her smile is infectious, Lucifer just can’t help it. He always smiles when he sees his daughter this way, so full of hope and joy. Vaggie hands him a folded strip of paper. Before he can open it to see who he was assigned, Charlie speaks again.

“Now, unlike some of our previous attempts, this activity will not be done as a group.” Multiple sighs of relief are heard, and Lucifer notices that Alastor seems to relax ever so slightly. At least that’s one thing we can agree on... “However,” Charlie continues, “This will be a week-long exercise-” multiple groans again, “that will involve a prompt each morning. That prompt will be a question or instruction that each of you will respond to in a letter. The letters don’t have to be long, but must include a full response to the prompt. They don’t have to be short either, just go for whatever your honest answer is!” She’s practically bouncing up and down with excitement as she says “The recipient of what you’ll be writing for the week will be the name on the paper youve been given. You’ll have a full 24 hours to write your letters. Tomorrow you’ll hand them in to me during the morning meeting, and will then be given the next prompt. Any questions so far?”

All of them are silent for a long moment. Vaggie breaks the silence. “Here are the rules. Rule number one: You MUST be respectful. OUR version of respectful. No insults, no petty jabs. Just answer the prompt. Rule number two: No discussing who each person is writing to. I mean NO discussion. Do not ask, do not tell. If we find out that this rule is broken, the offending parties will be sitting in on Charlie’s hotel-wide group therapy sessions for a month.” Lucifer’s eyes went wide at this. Several others did as well. Group therapy wasn't an uncommon ‘punishment’ (though Charlie wont ever call it that) but the sessions are held four days out of the week and last for one to two hours at a time. And with new arrivals slowly trickling into the hotel to be redeemed, the sessions were getting larger. Lucifer tensed, thinking of the last time he was forced to participate after getting into a spat with the only sinner in the building he just couldn’t stand to be around. Lucifer was not meant for group therapy, that was for sure. The most any of them have been forced to attend for bad behavior was one week. None of them wanted a whole month.

Vaggie looked amused at the group’s reaction to this. She spoke again. “This also includes revealing yourself to the person you’re writing to. These letters are supposed to be anonymous.” Charlie speaks up. “This exercise depends on honesty and anonymity, and I have really high hopes that this one can be used by new residents learning to redeem themselves.” She pauses. “Okay. So now that we’ve gone over everything, I’m going to call each of you over to note down who you’ll be writing to. I’ll then give you a paper with today’s writing prompt and an envelope to put the letter in once you're done. Make sure to seal it! After that, bring your envelope with you for tomorrow’s meeting and I’ll mark the intended recipient on the front. At the end of our meeting you’ll get the letter addressed to you and the next writing prompt.”

All of this information takes a moment to register in Lucifer’s head, but after he’s gone over it all in his mind he’s left with a sense of pride for his daughter. Out of all of her experiments so far, this one is the first that Lucifer doesnt think would turn into an all out war. It seems... feasible. He smiles as she makes eye contact with him, clearly ecstatic with her plan. Vaggie calls each one of them over to the desk that Charlie has against the room’s far wall. One at a time, each member of the ‘family’ does as they’re told and then leaves the meeting room. Lucifer spends a moment wondering who got his slip of paper, the one with his name written on it, until he suddenly remembers that he never looked at his own intended letter recipient. With no one close enough to peer over his shoulder, Lucifer slowly opens up the folded paper to see whose name is written.

Of course. Go figure. Yeah, why not just make the next week my own little slice of Hell? I mean honestly- His thoughts are interrupted by Charlie’s voice. “Dad! It’s your turn!” He looks up and realizes he’s the last one to be called. Everyone else, save Charlie and Vaggie, have already left the room. He attempts to smile as he stands and faces his daughter, but she sees through it immediately. And it's obvious. “Come on Dad... I know who you got.” This surprises him. Was his face really that revealing? “Everyone else’s name has already been marked on my chart, so...” She smiles awkwardly. “Listen, I think this will be good for you! Please, just try your best?” Lucifer slowly walks to the desk and sighs heavily. “Anything for you, sunshine. I’ll try my hardest.” He hands the strip of paper to his daughter and she gives him the paper with the prompt and envelope in exchange. “I dont think I’ve got you on the chores schedule today, but I’m gonna be pretty busy so I probably won’t see you until dinner.” She smiles at him, that glowing warm smile that he’d missed out on for so many years. She encourages him with an “I love you, Dad. You’re gonna do great!” and gives him a thumbs up.

He leaves the room smiling, just loving being in his daughter’s presence, until he walks into the lobby and sees him. Sitting on one of the many comfy chairs, sipping black coffee out of a mug that says “Oh Deer” on the side. The asshole. The worst demon in the hotel. The piece of shit that loves to torment Lucifer to no end. The name on his strip of paper. He strides by as quickly as possible to avoid any contact. Damn it... He thinks on the way back to his side of the hotel. Why, of all people... He can’t get the vision of the neat, cursive handwriting out of his head. His mind focuses on one name and one name only.

Alastor

Read Chapter 2!

[turtlecleric]

I'm in Hell

SPOILERS FOR SYMPHONY CHAPTER 22 - THIS POST IS LONG YOU'VE BEEN WARNED

I'm so Unwell. I have never had any misunderstandings like the thing with Donnie, but I have been betrayed by someone who was my best friend for years, so this chapter... it's hitting me really, really hard.

---

When Leo first met Vi, he was studying her a lot. Remember the near-physical weight his scrutiny had felt like? You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. ... like a pinned rabbit ... you see an obsidian edge beneath his smile that feels a little sharp as you lean into it.

And then later in her apartment:

[Leo talking] “…You know what really got me interested in talking to you?”

“What?” you ask, tilting your head. 

“Donnie came back from talking with April and he was talking about you."

This is literally Vi and Leo's first time meeting - I don't think Leo started to really hate her until after she started coming to the Lair and he saw how Donnie reacted to her presence, but he mentions that Donnie talked about her already. It's framed within Vi's mind as him being careful with his family. He's the leader, he's careful around new people, he wants to make sure she isn't a threat, etc. But even though this is before the touch thing started, there could've been the seed of hatred already there depending on how Donnie spoke about Vi to Leo.

---

He [Leo] peers at you like he can read your life story where it’s written on your soul. ... “…You don’t have a lot of friends, do you?” he asks, his voice soft and yet cutting you all the same.

and this:

[Vi talking] “I had a lot of fun tonight. I’d… like to have more nights like this one. To. To have a family. If I can.” “You can,” he [Leo] says

He knew from the first fucking time he met her that she was lonely. That she wanted friends, wanted a family, wanted to belong. He knew that better than anyone else in the family, not only because of her saying this to him but also because of how well he reads people and how much time he spent with her. He's the only one who has seen her in her apartment, too, caught her in those few vulnerable moments in her home. I'm so fucking angry.

There are so many times in the fic that... I can't even articulate... here's some quotes early on -> "you hate how much you like this guy [Leo]" and "you smile when you see [the text notification is from] Leo" and when Vi is sick in the store she says "I miss Leo" and on and on. And that whole fucking time! He was!! UGH!!!

---

When Vi agrees to make Leo some bread so that maybe he can get some of Donnie's apology cookies he texts her "ttyl i gotta go rub this in donnie’s face" and yeah that's him being a little shit as always, but it's ALSO proof of him using EVEN THEIR PRIVATE TEXT CONVERSATIONS as ammunition rile up Donnie.

---

Hey look! Bits that hit different/hint at more going on/might be Leo's mask slipping!

“How long do we hafta wait before she ain’t a guest anymore?” Raph asks, causing you to snort a laugh. 

“That’s up to Donnie,” Leo says, voice heavy with an undercurrent of meaning you’re not picking up on, causing you to look at him with a raised eyebrow. He smirks, reaching over to poke your cheek with his finger. “Y’know. He’s the one who met you first, and all that.” 

…Something tells you it’s more than that, but he’s good enough at hiding it that you don’t feel comfortable calling him on it in front of the others.

...

you have no idea how you fit in [to the family], and Leo had all but told you that the space is here, ready and emblazoned with your name on it. You don’t quite see it yet, even if he apparently does.

...

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. It’s complicated,” Leo says easily, and it’s only just, but you pick out the thread of iron bars in his tone, ready to come crashing down if you push even a little too hard. So, you don’t.

“Okay,” you say easily, causing him to get that piercing look he gets sometimes, the one when he feels more like a ninja than a funny turtle man who tries to see how many cookies he can shove into his mouth at once and sends you pizza rat memes at four in the morning. “…Dude, we’ve been friends for like, a week. It’s cool that you aren’t ready to spill your guts yet, you know that, right?” 

His eyes go sharp, but then he hums and smiles. You feel like you did the night you first met him, like there’s a test here and it’s in a language you don’t understand. It’s a bit uncomfortable, prompting you to grab your own drink and swallow a healthy bit of it just to have something to do.

...

[Vi talking] “…He [Donnie] seems lonely.”

Leo hums under his breath, cutting a portal that feels a little like home. “Well, lucky he has you, then.”

...

“Uh, I met her first,” Donnie says, scowling, while Leo just gives him a smug look. 

...

You do, however, lean in while the others are occupied, whispering to Donnie, “So, ten dollars, which one of them tops?” and laughing when he chokes. You catch Leo’s eyes and give him a devious grin, spying him look to Donnie with a curiously blank look before shifting to a catty smile of his own when he looks back to you

...

“One portal home for a lovely lady,” Leo says as he steps through, his face going a little flat when he looks over your shoulder to Donnie behind you.

...

Leo is… astonishingly quiet for a moment, his face blank of anything for you to read as he stares at the piece hard. Then he looks up at you, and you see an unusually capable person that doesn’t feel like your best friend, even as much as it feels like the real Leonardo, here for the first time for you to see.

...

[Vi talking] “I don’t… I don’t like keeping secrets. Or lying. Not from people I care about.” 

The weight of Leo’s eyes is almost physical. It makes you remember that he’s asked you to keep secrets, and your eyes snap to his, wondering if that’s the reason why he’s gone still like this. “I—I haven’t told anyone. About the ninja thing, or the Krang thing. I’d never—”

“I know,” Leo interrupts, threading his hand through your hair so he can cup your nape and press your forehead to his own. “I trust you.” You release a sigh of relief, nodding. “I’m just… thinking it might be time for us to repay that back.” 

You blink, gaze darting between his eyes. “I don’t… what do you mean?”

“We’re a pretty close-knit family. There’s a lot of… baggage. A lot of history. A lot of stuff we haven’t told you. And it’s… it’s starting to feel a little disrespectful,” he says, looking a bit displeased. “You’re one of us. It’s only fair.”

---

We all know about the constant comments Leo makes about being Vi's "favorite turtle" and "best friend" in front of the others/in the group chat. He talks in Chapter 22 about purposefully draping himself across her and pulling her close, hugging her, scenting her, touching her in front of Donnie to piss Donnie off. But there's all these other little things that seemed so innocent at the time and now I'm losing my mind wondering about each of them, wondering - is that something he did with malicious intent? How many nice things were ONLY done to piss off Donnie? There are so many times that he compliments her - for example:

“What? I can’t compliment my bestie and her fine legs?” Leo coos, reaching over and flicking your nose gently.

“Leonardo,” Donnie warns, folding his arms.

And I remember, during my second read through after I finished Chapter 20, being so happy and grateful that Leo was pretty consistently giving her compliments, because she deserves to be complimented and taken care of and loved, because she deserves good friends who hype her up, and this WHOLE TIME-

(Side note - that time that Leo complains she smells like Donnie's lab, he shoves her away and she falls to the floor. First read, it's just Leo being playful. Second read, I wonder... is that a little bit of his frustration getting out of him in a physical way? He shoved her to the fucking floor, and then, once Donnie shows up, Leo pats the cushion next to him for Vi to sit by him. Then he wraps his arm around her and pulls her in close to smell her. But that's only after Donnie shows up.)

When Mikey takes Vi's So-Shell profile picture -> “Wha—?” you start, only to feel Leo leaning in to smoosh his cheek against yours, the distinct feeling of bunny ears brushing the back of your skull. Once again, this is in front of Donnie. Plus it's for her profile picture, so that means every time Donnie sees her So-Shell profile he'll see Leo in the picture, too. Leo was also famously the first like on her first So-Shell post and gets her to always leave nice comments/emojis on his thirst traps.

When she comes to the Lair to practice with her viola, Leo offers up HIS room first, and only once she declines does he -> “Ugh, fine, you are so boring,” he says, and removing his arm, he shoves at your shoulders hard and pushes you through the portal. (Pushing her onto the floor, pushing her through the portal... he's kind of rough with her in the beginning, and I figured it was just because he's haha silly funny turtle man, physical comedy, joking around whatever but... again I wonder. Is he letting himself be a little rough as a way to express his true feelings?)

God, all these little things that... might have an ulterior motive and might not.

It's around the time Vi gets bruised up by that guy at the coffee shop that Leo seems to start actually acting like a real friend, in my opinion. “…You don’t even get how incredible you are, do you?” he asks, causing you to roll your eyes. “You seriously don’t see it.” 

The very next chapter he gets a glimpse of her being anxious over not being able to play, while she notices that he looks tired, invites him to listen to music and lets him sleep on her back, and in that chapter it says: you sit, quiet, letting him use you. My second read through, this line hit me hard because I KEPT noticing that she really does nothing but GIVE and I feel like she's constantly doing things to be useful to others. And now, as I'm skimming through a third time, it turns out that... yeah. Yeah. He was fucking using her. In Chapter 22, Leo says "then you reach out and touch me in a way no one has. You’ve helped me, even though I was just using you" and I'm thinking this is the moment that that really started. When she first let him sleep on her. And that's also the first time he churrs with her. After that, he gets her really nice sushi, and she thinks he's guilty for drooling all over for her, but I think maybe he was guilty because he's starting to realize how nice she is and how shitty it is that he's using her like that, even though he does continue those manipulative behaviors.

---

He sighs, his face going openly affectionate. “…You’re so…” 

What he thinks you are, you don’t know, as he chooses instead to pull you into a hug. You go easily, seeking the comfort of his embrace, hoping he can feel in your arms that you truly do mean what you said. 

“You know, instead of sorry, you should say—” Leo says, though as his face gets close to your throat, his mouth snaps shut and he goes still in a manner that reminds you a little of Donnie. 

“…Leo?” you ask, going to pull back from the hug to look into his face only to feel his hands go tight on your back, holding you close while he dips his beak to your skin and inhales. When he does pull back, he’s got a look of shock on his face that he quickly schools into something more neutral, but barely. 

This is where he smells Donnie on you for the first time, and the guilt he was starting to feel, the actual genuine affection he was developing for her, may have then been interrupted/overshadowed by his anger.

Vi was right to say she isn't gonna go back and examine every detail, because it's so fucking MUDDY! There are glimpses of true softness from him sprinkled throughout with him ALSO still hanging over her and doing shit that pisses Donnie off on purpose. And then of course the scene with Leo in the kitchen when he scares her, where we get the first big glimpse into his true anger about the whole situation, where we see him being sharp and cutting and dismissive and- I'm not going to paste in that whole scene, but he's so, so, SO angry. When she has that visceral, terrified reaction, he feels so bad (I do think he was genuinely, truly horrified that he scared her), but then he finds out that Vi and Donnie are (as far as Vi is aware) dating, followed by her telling him that Donnie misses touching his brothers, misses hugs, followed by Leo deciding to tell Vi about all the family secrets... so he's wrestling with this rage and jealousy, but he's also starting to really accept her as family (I think, since he shared the info about the Krang, about Lou Jitsu, about Casey, since he asked for her help)...

It kills me that, after that, he saw her trying so hard to help, like when she went to the library and got books on PTSD and fell asleep taking notes and she wakes up with a blanket covering her and a little blue heart on a note - he saw her doing that, on top of everything else she CONSTANTLY does for other people, for his family, and HE STILL, EVEN AFTER THAT, DOES SHIT THAT'S MANIPULATIVE. THE 4TH OF JULY PARTY, FOR EXAMPLE. “What she said,” Leo purrs, his fingers fluttering on your stomach as his eyes cut off to the side. He has a sharp look to his features that you’re a bit too drunk to dissect, so you just ignore it. He HAS to be looking at Donnie, here.

(Side note - we still don't know what Leo was doing when Vi was in the shower getting ready for the party... if anything. Maybe he really was eating cookies.)

It's at the end of the party that he smells sex on Vi, I think, for the first time. And the following chapter is when he starts avoiding Vi, and she goes to confront him and he says he's "Thinking about things. About what I want.” And THAT'S when he finally stops his bullshit. Ch 22 - "I stopped. Completely. After we talked in my room.”

---

I'm still working on fully re-reading Chapters 17+ until I make it back up to 22 and putting more thoughts into that post, but. Dear God. Sam is a genius and I'm so angry at myself. I had been so confused and angry with Donnie, when in reality he truly DID NOT KNOW about the misunderstanding between him and Vi. Meanwhile, as I'm fawning over Leo and so happy Vi has him and so grateful he's been such a good friend to her... he was the one using her, this whole time. I cannot believe it. I'm SICK with rage. I can't imagine how Vi could possibly... I can't... FUCK dude

[demoniccomplex]

Hello! May I request Yan!Poe?

Yan!Poe HCS

WC 767

Ohoho hehe when i saw this in my inbox my mind just clicked and formed a smile, while it wasn't specific, i’ll settle with headcanons for now. i may or may not have gotten carried away so have all of this word vomit.

also thank you anon for being my first request! <3

masterlist

-

However you meet this man, just know behind his hair covering up his eyes, those pretty violet eyes are shining with stars in awe. He’d be tensed up, hands with a tremble to them, oh how could he get so lucky? His reaction would probably be brushed off as his shyness reacting to someone new, but just know it's so much more and the cogs in his head are working on every possible future with you. Even though all you did was give Karl back to him or apologize for bumping into him, you’ve won his heart. 

Please do expect for a special raccoon to hunt you down with a letter from poe, going on about how he’d love to know you more or just something to meet you again. Blissfully unaware of all the other unsent letters showing Poe’s fast in obsessed love downfall. Every possible date idea, every way he could win you over, or even kidnap you and never let you go like a pretty doll. It's all scrambling in a way that sends him over the edge of obsession in a void he can't get out of because every other thought is you.

Also, don't mind if you feel as if you're always being watched, it's just a safety precaution i'm sure! Oh right, back to the mention of kidnapping, it can go two ways. One where you delay the kidnapping or you get kidnapped early on, there is no preventing this. First scenario, you’re actively hanging out with him, also be aware you’re gonna get a lot of stuff that he’ll just buy for you, it won't be as strong for the first few outings but the rest you’re gonna come home with a lot. Poe’s definitely the gift giver when it comes to trying to make you fall for him, he knows what he's doing. However I do feel as though it would be kind of impulsive when he buys you something, because really, he knows he can't give back what you’re so willing to give to him with your presence. Happily smiling when your eyes linger for too long on all the stuff bought. I feel like it would take him a good while to realize that, you are in fact, not dating yet, but at the same time i’d think he would be somewhat aware in the back of his mind. The epiphany jolting back everytime the day is over, the urge to keep you forever in one of his books or his mansion gets really convincing overtime. 

Scenario two, it will happen so much faster than the previous scenario, as much as i want to give it, “oh don't trust any books that happen to be left on your porch!” I think that's just too simple. But at the same time I'm aware that if I do go into detail it will just be how you’re being watched and how you’ve gained a friendship with Karl. So really, it's just a matter of simple stalking by an emo and his raccoon, along with at any moment a book could show up at your steps while you're blissfully unaware. However, I feel like this is the worst option because I don't think he’ll ever let you out of that book, while in the first scenario you could have more freedom in that mansion of his.

Apart from the possibility of never getting out of a book, I do think he would try to make you two live a normal life even if the light in your eyes is fading. This will most likely lead to several breakdowns on Poe’s part with some doubts but he’ll keep on trying to make you love him back. I remember someone suggested in their headcanons that this man is likely to send Karl away if you interact with the raccoon more than him. Honestly I see it, trying to get closer to an animal who likes you but not as obsessively as his owner. So you take that to try to gain some normality back then the poor thing is sent off on a playdate because Poe got overly jealous. I do think Poe would be aware that what he's doing is wrong but he thinks that he can make it up with buying you what you want, spending even more time with you, just doing his best to make you happy overall. 

[urauntiefaye]

are your requests still open?

If still, may I request something😩 ||

Scenario : i am the lady's in waiting of Jo's mother who is the queen (jo is the crown prince). jo secretly loves me and has wanted to 'make me his' for a long time. One day I asked the queen for permission to marry a man of my parents' choice (even though I don't love the man my parents chose, because he is 20 years different from me ewww🤢). that means I have to withdraw from the palace to get married. when jo found out about this, jo got angry and jealousy and I ended up making love in his room and he claimed me as his, planting his seed in me so that I don't marry the man my parents chose and he wants me to be his wife bcuz i have his 'kid'🥺

You Will Be Mine (Jo Asakura Royalty Au🔞👑)

Word Count: 970

CW: Smut, breeding, exhibition(Kind of?), y/n is AFAB(I assumed since you wrote lady in waiting, if not please let me know and I will fix it!), Penetration(P in V)

A/N: ROYAL AU ROYAL AU ROYAL AU!!!!!! Anonnie you have no idea what you just fed me. Now, this was a little difficult for me, like my wording seems off to me and I feel like I didn’t do this concept justice enough. I do apologize, however I do hope you like it! Content is below the line!

Your family has always worked closely with the Royal family of the kingdom. It was in your blood to serve the Asakuras, So growing up with the Prince wasn’t unusual. When you were both young you would often find yourselves playing together. Running around in the open fields, playing hide and seek and in the castle, even sneaking off into the woods to find a little lake and a Gazebo. It was yours, the place where Prince Jo went to blow off steam from the responsibilities, a place where you went to cry, both a place where you two comforted each other in times of need.

 It would be safe to say that you two were the best of friends. However play time had to be cut short once the prince turned 13. At the age he was often found in the library with a tutor or in the Kings office to attend and watch silently during important meetings. You both stayed close yet apart, interactions cut short and more professional as he fulfilled his Princely duties and yours as the Queen's lady in waiting. It would be a lie that you didn’t miss him, but you knew that this was how it was supposed to be. Only if you knew that Jo always had his on you, longing and missing you. As you both became adults not only did your duties become more frequent and more serious, but the time for you to be wedded also came. Your parents had arranged a meeting for you to meet a Lord in another kingdom, with you not being too keen on meeting him and dreading it you had run off to the little Gazebo, surprised it was still standing. You spent some time trying to get your thoughts together, you knew it was your responsibility, but you never thought your parents would agree nonetheless even choose to marry you off to some forty year old Lord in another kingdom which was miles upon miles away from your home. 

“Thought I’d find you here” a soft gentle voice was heard from behind you, as you turned around you saw Jo. “Was it that obvious I’d be here? After All these years?”. He came closer to you, sitting down, his knee slightly touching yours. “Kind of?...I heard the news by the way”, you smiled sadly and sighed. “Yeah…guess it can’t be helped though right?”, he hummed as a response, you couldn’t help but notice the disappointment on his face as he looked away from you. Both sitting in silence enjoying each other's presence, “what if there was a way?, a way that will keep you here, with me?”, confused by his sudden words you retort back “what are you talking about Jo?, there’s no way-” you words being cut off as you felt a pair of soft lips pressed against yours. Taken back you didn’t move, trying to process what was happening. Jo rested his hand on your thigh, leaning into you more, kissing you with passion and what seemed to be hunger. You kissed him back, your brain going blank and just following his lead. He pushed you down so you were laying on your back, as he deepened the kiss he pushed your knee signaling to spread your legs more to which you did. His slender hands squeezing your thighs and his lips make their way down your neck making sure to leave little evidence of his touch. A soft moan escaping your lips as you tangled your fingers through his hair, Jo settled himself in between your legs and raised your dress to settle at your hips. His action getting more aggressive and rough, not wasting a single moment he tore your underwear off. The next thing you know you feel the tip of his dick rub slowly from your clit to your aching hole. A groan leaving his lips as you also moan, he brought his lips to yours and kissed you roughly, he eased the tip of his member in slowly, the stretch already making you whine. Sinking down more into you, inch by inch slowly until he finally filled you up. The initial feeling sending shivers of pleasure down his spine, “f-fuck, you feel so good” he said with a shaky breath. It didn’t take him long enough to start thrusting into you at a brutal pace though, his hips rutting against yours as your name fell from his lips like a mantra. You tried to cover your mouth in an attempt of downing out your moans so you won’t get caught, but he stopped you quickly by pinning your hands above your head. “Don’t hide your pretty moans” he groaned as he snapped his hips harshly against your erupting a loud almost screaming moan. “Want everyone to hear who you belong to” his words going straight to your cunt, clenching around his dick hard. This got him more worked up and he flushed chest against yours and started whispering out even more sinful things to you. Such as how he was going to breed you and make sure you will have to marry him since you’ll be the one carrying his heirs. His promises of making you his and filling you up where you have no choice but to end up getting pregnant by him made you not only emotional but it’s what also helped you get pushed over the edge reaching your climax with no warning. Jo, also reaching his end as his cum shot deep inside you, not daring to pull out or stop his thrusts until he knew for sure you would end up pregnant with his children. To say you two went at it till the sunset might be an overstatement, but damn does it sure as hell feel like it. 

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Girl thank you so so so so so much for writing yandere!Konig because LEMME TELL YOU I did not know I needed him until I stumbled upon your blog. Reading Just Friends was like a breath of fresh air, your characterization of Konig's character was AMAZING. Seriously, I think you've ruined all other Konig pics for me lol! I loved how unhinged and scary he was but also how caring and kind he was towards Engel <3

BTW have two questions regarding Konig in Just Friends!

1. How old is he in this fic? (apologies if you already mentioned this in the fic I have a terrible memory)

2. At what point in his and Engel's relationship would he finally allow her to look at him without his hood on? What kind of experience would that be for both of them? Also, what do you imagine him to look like? (sorry I'm now realizing this is more than 2 questions)

By the way, I just read Man-Sized and wow that was a phenomenal fic, I gotta say I love love love your interpretation of Ghost's character. I feel like Ghost is a tough character to write but you really nailed him!

Thanks in advance! (I'm gonna go binge the rest of your awesome fics hehe)

Thank you so much sweetie!! You shower me with compliments and I've read your message so many times, it always puts a smile on my face 💕 As for your questions:

1. Considering that this is an AU where König is not a colonel, and because some of his mannerisms are a bit boyish, I’d say König is somewhere around 27–32 in this fic...?

2. Removing the hood completely, even in Engel's presence, is super challenging for König because the mask is not only a comfort object, it's his shield against the world. He can't bear anyone to look at him and what's been done to him, he actually thinks himself a monster (a thought planted in his mind by his father).

I'm actually getting slasher vibes from Just Friends König's relationship with his mask; I don't know if you're familiar with the lore on Michael Myers (Halloween) or Jason Voorhees (Friday the 13th), but the mask means everything to all of them and so it does to König. It transforms him into a hero, a soldier, an operator, a functioning human being. Without it he's reduced to scarred, vulnerable, weak man.

So... it will take time before he would take it off and even more time for him to be comfortable with hanging around without it (if that's even possible). But Engel has learned to love his scars, so I'm sure König will eventually lower down that shield when they're alone ❤️

I’d imagine the first times happen when they’re cuddling and Engel lifts the mask to kiss him. Days and weeks pass, more cuddling ensues, and König lets the cloth stay up longer and longer when he sees she’s not repulsed. Engel kisses his scars, caresses his face, tells him that he’s handsome and that she loves him – it doesn’t transform König from an abused, bullied, broken man to someone cheerful and outgoing, but it allows him to at least ease into the fact that there’s someone in this world who doesn’t fear or hate him. He's been blessed with a woman who doesn't think he's a monster, so he is even more convinced that Engel is a heavenly being because how else would she be able to touch and love him like this...?

(3.) I actually shared some pics earlier on what I imagine König looking like, but I'm having second thoughts about it which is why I don't want to share a link to that ask. It may sound odd but it's always been really hard for me to imagine what's under that hood! People seem to have so many different headcanons on what he looks like, I think it's really cool. I have nothing, I wish I had something 🥲 His face has always been just blurred, sensored void to me, the only thing I imagine is that König has dark blonde/light brown hair (he might prefer a short military cut because he's a freak for all things army) and that he has thin lips?

And she even tells him she likes it when he’s without the hood, tells that she likes to see his face and wants to just watch him and kiss him. König will eventually lose the hood more often when he’s with her. It's not for his sake, but hers. If Engel wants to see him, who is he to deny her? It makes his heart and chest tight, but he’ll just have to live with it. Besides, Engel’s lips and touch feel better than being inside that baggy darkness all the time.

[ash5monster01]

Can we get a TASM peter x Fem reader smut where maybe reader had a unspecified traumatic experience or just bad experience with smexy times so is very nervous and scared but admit about being with peter physically so Peter makes it his mission to make her feel so good she forgets she is scared cuz her brain is all foggy 😖(lots of fluff, lots of praise and lots of checking in and making sure she is ok)

Baby Steps

Pairing: Tasm Peter Parker x FemReader

Warnings: smut, 18+, dirty talk, praise, mentions of sexual trauma.

Summary: In fear of you connecting Peter to the bad things you had already experienced sexually you grow the nerve to tell him so he understands your hesitation when it comes to intimacy. When you both decide baby steps are the right move until you are comfortable you both get a little carried away lost in the feeling and need for each other. (I don’t normally write smut so I apologize in advance if at any point the writing doesn’t flow, it sounds awkward, or it’s not good in general)

word count: 2246

Masterlist

Peter had been more than patient. You had to remind yourself of that as you cuddled with the boy in his bed. You had been together six months now and he had yet to get intimate with you. The closest you had gotten was some over the clothes touching but you could tell he craved more, that he needed more. The only issue was you were absolutely terrified. You were afraid that the moment things started you’d get flashbacks from all the terrible things you had connected to the act of intimacy. The idea of Peter, your safe haven, being put in a position that connected him to all the bad things that had happened to you was scary. How could the best thing in your life coexist with the worst thing just because of one moment? A shared moment that despite everything you wanted to give to Peter. He had waited, been kind, and still doesn’t bother you over it. Yet you knew it saddened him because in a way it felt like you didn’t really trust him.

“Peter?” you brushed your hand along his face, legs tangled with his own. His eyes slowly fluttered open to look at you and your stomach immediately tightened. You wanted this too, but we’re just afraid of how you would react.

“Yes, baby” his voice was raspy since you both had been enjoying each other’s presence, not needing conversation to fill the moment.

“Does it bother you that we haven’t slept together?” the boy tensed from the question and you felt it because you were both pressed against each other and it made your stomach drop.

“I wouldn’t say bother. I will wait for however long until you are ready but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to. It would be nice to show you how much you mean to me and move our relationship to the next level” he told you, your nerves immediately easing. You felt the guilt though. He wanted to show you how much he loved you and yet you wouldn’t allow it.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to either, but being intimate is a scary thing for me. I’ve had a lot of bad things happen to me Peter and when I’m with you I don’t want to be reminded of that. I want it to be about you and me and not the ghosts of my past” Peter did not know this information and his heart broke at the fact someone had hurt you. Hurt you enough that something that should be pleasureful in life absolutely terrified you.

“Oh baby” he quickly pulled you into him, squeezing you as close as he could because you didn’t deserve anything that had happened to you.

“It’s okay, I’m okay now” but Peter shook his head as you pulled back from him to look him in his eyes once more.

“It’s not okay, what happened to you will never be okay. But we can take baby steps, if that’s what you need to be more comfortable with me” he told you and the gears started to turn in your head.

“So we can take it step by step, and I can tell you to stop whenever I’m uncomfortable” Peter nodded and offered you a smile because he loved you for you. “Okay then, let’s go”

“What?” Peters eyes widened as you sat slightly up and pulled your shirt off leaving you in just a bra which revealed more skin than he’s ever seen on you.

“I want to be with you Peter, and if we don’t start now I’ll never work up the nerve to do it again” you told him and he visibly gulped as he looked at the black lace that covered the hills of your breasts. He had felt them but never really felt them. It was much different when you touched someone through a shirt and over the bra.

“Okay, just let me know when to stop” and with a swift movement he was up and hovering over you. Your heart rate began to speed up as he took control because that’s what he needed to do in this situation. Slowly he leaned down and captured your lips in his own and you immediately calmed at the feeling. Peter kissing you was something you loved.

“Is this okay?” he mumbled against your lips as his arm reached around and grabbed the clasp on your bra. You nodded not even caring that the guy you loved was about to see you naked for the first time because you didn’t want him to stop kissing you. He didn’t need any more confirmation as he snapped the clasp open with one hand and moved to remove it from your body.

“Peter, can you take your shirt off too?” you asked, not wanting to be more naked then him. He smiled as he sat up above you and stripped his shirt in a quick movement. Once it was off he looked down at you, your bra barely on. You could see the adoration in his eyes as he slipped it off your arms and revealed all of you for him to see.

“Baby you are so beautiful, can I touch you?” you nodded eagerly, surprised by the feeling he gave you just from looking at you. Your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of his fingers brushing across your skin and cupping you.

“Baby you’re perfect” Peter was getting turned on as he massaged your breast, the feeling of them so perfect and exactly what he had imagined. The slight moan you let out as you lifted your chest up made him eager and he reminded himself to slow down. Slowly he leaned back down to kiss you and you quickly put your hands in his hair, enjoying the feeling of his hand on your bare skin.

“Tell me if this is too much” Peter kissed each word into your skin as his head made its way down your neck and to your chest. Your hands remained in his hair when suddenly his lips met one of your nipples. You gasped as he opened his mouth and took a full taste, his tongue swirling around. Your stomach tightened at the feeling.

“Oh God, Peter. That feels so good” you told him, wanting him to know you enjoyed it instead of the opposite. His hand made sure to take care of your other nipple, both breasts getting the attention they needed. Once you confirmed you enjoyed it he switched back and forth between each breast, trying to decide which one was his favorite. That’s when you felt it. His arousal was hard against your hips as he slowly grinded into you, his attention still on your boobs. The feeling was overwhelming and you moaned at the thought of him continuing to grind on you.

“Peter take off your pants” he froze as you spoke, surprised you had suggested it. Your arousal matched his own, the wetness soaking your underwear, and the idea of him being turned on for you felt good.

“Are you sure?” you nodded and he hopped off the bed, the outline of his dick pressed against the grey fabric of his sweats. You heart doubled in beats as he slipped them off. Slowly you shimmied out of your own, Peter freezing as he saw you had on a matching black thong. He never knew you were a thong girl.

“Baby, are you sure? I don’t want you to feel like you’re forcing yourself through it” Peter moved forward, not wanting you to push yourself to a point of no return. You frantically shook your head, almost embarrassed.

“No, I just wanted to feel you better. Everything feels so good” your wetness grew at the thought of him coming back onto the bed and he grinded you through only the thin piece of panties.

“Oh” the blush on his cheeks was evident and he felt himself twitch in his pants. He quickly moved over to the bed, jumping above you and nuzzling his hips between your legs, you more open for him.

“Holy shit” you gasped, gripping his shoulders and your stomach doubled over from the feeling of him so hard against you. His face fell to your chest, nuzzling himself between your breasts as he moved himself against you, back and forth. He was so hot for you he was gonna explode.

“I’m gonna take my boxers off. I figure you’d be more comfortable if I was naked first” you gasped at the thought but nodded none the less. Peter pushed himself up on his knees, a wet spot in his boxers from the pre-cum. He pushed them down and you watched, not breathing, as he showed himself to you. He was bigger than you had imagined, and bigger than he felt so far. You lifted your hips quickly in anticipation as he fully removed his boxers.

The minute he settled back in between your legs, only your thong separating you now, your only thought was Peter, and how good he made you felt. He kissed you, his tongue darting into your mouth as he bucked against you, him becoming painfully hard. “Do more, please”

“You sure?” you nodded, needing some sort of release from how worked up you were. He smiled and moved his hand down were it toyed with them hem of your panties.

“Please just touch me” you gasped, trying to move your hips into his hand. He smiled as he began to kiss your neck and his hands slid in your panties, fully feeling you now. His fingers slid through your folds, massaging you softly, and once you started moving your hips with the feel of his fingers he became confident enough as he slipped his middle finger into you.

“Fuck” you scratched at his shoulders, back arching as he moved his finger painfully slow inside of you. You couldn’t form a thought as he picked up the pace.

“Peter, this feels so good. You’re so hot” you whined and he felt himself lose control as he used his other hands to rip you panties loose. He removed himself from your neck where he had left a large purple mark to match the ones on your chest. Suddenly he was kissing down your stomach and onto your thighs. You couldn’t speak when you tried to tell him to stop teasing, Suddenly he slipped a second finger into you the minute his mouth pressed against your heat and licked a long stripe up it. You felt yourself clench on his fingers which made him groan into you, the hum turning you on even more. His fingers and mouth started to move faster, wanting to bring you to release. Once you started to get close you found your words.

“Get inside of me Peter, please. Fuck please let me cum on your cock” he had never heard you talk so dirty and his dick started to hurt from how hard he was.

“Okay baby” he removed his hand from you, the taste of you still in his mouth as he moved to slip a condom on. Quickly he lined himself up as he looked down at you, breathing heavy and waiting for him to just get inside of you already.

“Ready?” you nodded and grabbed his dick. His head fell back as you pushed his tip in between your folds, running them through as you prepared him to slip inside of you. Once you lined him back up Peter lowered himself into you, slowly until he was nuzzled hip to hip.

“Please move” you pulled him closer, gripping his back and he obeyed. He started to sway in and out of you and you dragged your nails down his back, clenching around him. He groaned as he felt you and continued to move into you. You both basked in the feeling as you continued to fuck each other. You couldn’t believe you had gone six months keeping yourself from feeling this good.

“Baby I’m close” he told you, not wanting to finish before you. He continued to hit all the right spots and you lifted your hips, him hitting you directly on the g-spot.

“Me too, I’m about to cum” you panted and he continued his movements when suddenly your knees tightened around his sides and you began to pulse around him. The feeling brought him to his finish as well, the both of you riding out your highs on each other. He put his body weight on top of you, leaving himself nuzzled inside as you both relaxed against each other and the bed.

“I didn’t expect us to go that far” he said and you chuckled, realizing that you hadn’t even remembered you were trying to take baby steps.

“Me either, but at least now I know you make me feel good and nothing else matters” you told him as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“I’m glad baby” he told you, pressing a kiss in between your chest.

“Round two?” you asked and he widened his eyes as you slipped yourself off of him, his dick jumping from the movement.

“Already?” he asked and you nodded as you began to stroke him.

“Yeah, it’s my turn to please you” you said as you lowered onto your knees and he groaned loudly at the sight of you.

“Fuck okay”