#I'm only willing to go so far verbally

[professorsta]

Eye contact and verbal vulnerability are stupid difficult while cutting the eye contact off after the heartfelt moment to actionably punctuate your sincerity by bowing seems a lot more agreeable to me personally would it be ridiculous for someone located in California to start bowing? Asking for uh- not for me, someone else, don't ask who

[flowerandblood]

The Taste of Desire (AU)

[ dom!modern • Aemond x friend sister • female ]

[ warnings: sex with soft domination, fingering, smut, angst, sexual tension, remorse, doubts related to sex work ]

[ description: Aemond works as a professional dom, fulfilling the various fantasies of his female clients − however, he guards his privacy and does not enter into any relationships with them, recognizing that he does not want or need it. One of his clients surprises him with her behaviour, making him experience something he has never felt before, with his own actions and emotions slipping out of his control. Sexual tension, doubts related to sex work. ]

This oneshot is an alternative universe for my series The Taste of Shame in which Aemond meets the main character as his client. It shows how their lives would have turned out and what their first time would have been like if Aemond had done it for money. Created to celebrate my anniversary on 22 March.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other series: Masterlist

_____

He was never picky when it came to his female clients. They had to meet basic standards like hygiene, no venereal diseases and they couldn't go beyond a certain time, but once they signed a confidentiality clause, what he was going to do with them was no longer important to him.

He kept repeating to himself that he was there for them, not them for him, so he focused on giving them what they wanted in a way that didn't disturb his comfort zone.

He did not allow them to kiss or touch him with their hands − in fact, he preferred that any involvement they had in what was happening was minimal. What he found most pleasing in the whole act was his violence towards them, and the more they consented to, the more he was satisfied.

Their pleas and cries of pain combined with some subconscious pleasure that such sadomasochism gave them made him struggle to hold back the mocking smile that pressed against his lips.

They wanted to be treated like worthless objects, and that's what he was giving them, because that's exactly how he thought of them.

He didn't try to delve into considering what he thought of himself, because he decided that would end up with a visit to a psychiatrist. He was studying quantum physics, lived far away from his family and needed a steady, high source of income − since silly girls could make money from sex cams, he could make money that way, at least until he had no other prospects.

The only way to contact him was through an online form on his website, where they would write why they wanted to meet, indicate what suited them or not, and if he felt he could meet their whims, he would arrange to meet them to discuss the details and sign the documents.

Scrolling through dozens of similar messages about tying, gagging, beating and humiliation he stopped on one where only a few things were marked. He thought surprised that he wouldn't even link them to aggressive domination per se, and certainly not the kind he usually used.

Good morning. I've been thinking a lot lately about what I'd like to try, but I'm also a bit embarrassed about it. I don't know if this can be subsumed under your interests − I'm completely inexperienced, so maybe that's why I'm looking for a professional who knows what he's doing and would be able to show me what I actually need and want. I apologise for the rather chaotic explanation and send my regards. Selected practices: spanking, verbal domination, fingering

He blinked and scratched his chin, both intrigued and uncertain at the same time − he glanced quickly at her age and saw that she was younger than him. He bit his lower lip feeling that something in the idea that she was still inexperienced and only willing to explore her needs attracted him, the thought that this would be some sort of challenge for him.

He decided that why not.

She was an adult.

He looked forward to meeting her with the utmost curiosity. Her requirements were basic enough that he didn't need to prepare any extra kinks, and since she didn't want sex with penetration, it also gave him a greater sense of confidence and peace of mind − he knew he wouldn't have to chase his orgasm, imagining some woman from porn, and would be able to concentrate only on what he was doing to her.

When he heard a quiet knock on the door of the flat he rented only to meet his female clients, he got up immediately from behind his desk and opened it for her, swallowing hard as his gaze involuntarily swept over her figure and stopped on her face.

God.

This was not what he had expected.

She looked even younger than she had written; her eyes were big and bright, looking at him with fear and dread, though usually the women who came to him, learned by experience, kept their gaze meekly on the floor, waiting for him to command them to look at himself.

She was dressed in a plain white Tshirt and high-waisted jeans, a fabric coloured backpack on her back, her hair loose, shiny, dark, slightly wavy − he could smell the fruity scent of her perfume or shower gel.

He grunted quietly, trying to keep a stony face, feeling that involuntarily his gaze expressed shock. He took a few steps back and invited her in − she stepped inside uncertainly, turning away quickly as he closed the door behind her.

"Come in. Do not be afraid." He said lowly, pointing to his desk which stood in the deeper part of the flat − she walked in that direction, looking in horror at the bed standing on the other side of the room.

He heard her swallow hard, tense and red, pulling her backpack off her back − she placed it in her lap immediately after she sat down in the chair opposite him, as if trying to ward off and protect herself from him in this way.

He took his seat on the other side and tapped his index finger on the top of his wooden oak desk, thinking that he had never had a client like her before.

She was completely distracted, her gaze sweeping across the room as if she were a curious child, her fingers tightening on the material of her rucksack.

"As I mentioned, first the contract and confidentiality clause." He said calmly, handing her copies of the contract and clause he had sent her earlier.

She took them from him and looked into his eyes again, making him swallow hard; it wasn't a defiant look and it wasn't meant to seduce him. It seemed to him just the opposite − she wanted to show him that some part of her was genuinely afraid of him.

She nodded, her hands trembling all over as she took the sheets of paper in her hands − she looked around quickly and clumsily grabbed a pen.

He wondered, seeing what was happening to her, if what she wanted was really good for her and although he never meddled in his clients' decisions, he decided to intervene, for her sake and his own.

"You can still resign. I won't burden you with the cost." He said lowly, watching her closely, and saw that she flinched all over. She lifted the gaze of her bright eyes to him, her eyebrows arched in indecision, her mouth opened and closed as if she was trying to get something out of herself.

"I…I think I want to try. This one time. Do you think it's a bad idea, sir?" She asked him in a trembling, soft, girlish voice. The note of innocence that lurked in this after all defiant question made him twist in his seat, feeling surprised that his manhood swelled a little − he felt like he was literally burning her with his gaze.

He thought it was because she was so vulnerable − it turned him on that he was more experienced than her and had real control over what could happen next if she wanted it.

He chuckled involuntarily at her words, shaking his head, sighing quietly, looking at her indulgently.

"What I think about it doesn't matter." He murmured lowly, leaning comfortably against the back of his chair with a loud creak of wood.

He felt heat in his lower abdomen at the thought of her not dropping her gaze, boldly staring him in the face as if they had known each other for a long time, despite the fact that most women knew their buttocks would be red and swollen like tomatoes for such insolence.

"I would, however, like to hear your views on the matter, sir." She replied quickly, as if she recognised him as some sort of authority on the matter, a sexologist or anyone else who could give her a diagnosis.

"I am not a doctor. However, I don't think there is anything wrong with trying under controlled conditions. You also have a safe word that you can use at any time to stop whatever I'm doing. You have to decide." He said finally, and saw her nod her head, drawing in air loudly as if gathering her courage, and leaned over, signing the documents in the spaces indicated.

For some reason he involuntarily licked his lips, dried from some kind of excitement, his cock twitching hard in his trousers at the thought that she was really going to do this.

When she finished he took the papers from her, signed them and gave her one copy, reminding her of all the rules they had agreed and what she could not do.

"You can't touch me or kiss me. When we start, you are to call me sir and follow all my instructions. You are to answer all my questions by shaking or nodding your head unless I order you otherwise. I will not stop even if you beg me or cry until I hear your safe word which, please remind us, sounds how?" He asked softly, stapling the papers she had signed with a stapler, tucking them into his drawer, watching her out of the corner of his eye, feeling the heat in his lower abdomen at the very thought of what he was going to do to her.

Why was he so aroused when he hadn't even touched her yet?

"Peach." She muttered embarrassedly, looking down at her hands.

For a moment he wondered if he should add the rule he usually made where a woman couldn't look him in the eye, but something in her eyes captured him − her gaze wasn't seductive or filled with feelings he didn't want to see. He also guessed that forbidding it might overwhelm her even more, and he didn't want that.

He nodded at her words, rising, and she rose with him, holding her backpack in front of her, her shoulders raised slightly in a defensive gesture, as if she was afraid of him and the fact that she had somehow given him control over her.

He approached her slowly, looking at her vigilantly − her eyes fixed on his face as his hand took the rucksack from her arms in a gentle motion, dropping it next to her on the floor. His fingers rose to her cheeks, trailing over them, her jaw and her chin − he felt her tremble all over, surprised, her swollen, plump lips red with emotion.

Although he had never done this, he wanted to get a good look at her first − he knew that going straight to putting his hand in her panties would only frighten her and in this situation his tactics had to be a tad different.

First and foremost, he wanted to reassure her.

He saw that she had closed her eyes, trying to breathe slowly through her mouth as his hands slid down to her neck and her soft hair. He thought, smelling her fruity scent, that he would have given anything to have her kneel before him and take his achingly hard manhood into her mouth.

He decided that perhaps he would use his thoughts to embolden her a little more and let him do what he wanted.

"Such a sweet girl. You have no idea what I'd like to do with those lips." He hummed, feeling a shiver pass through her as one of his hands rose higher again, to her face, parting her lips with his thumb. "How hard I am now."

He saw the shock in her gaze, which quickly escaped down to the bulge in his trousers, her cheeks flushed as she looked up into his face again, her breathing quickened and ragged.

He sighed involuntarily at the sight.

"You can say a lot of things about me, but not that I'm a liar. Open." He commanded in a slightly cooler, stricter tone, her lips immediately parted slightly, allowing his thumb to slide deep between her fleshy, wet lips.

"Suck." He instructed, a quiet moan caught in her throat, her body suddenly quivering as the fingers of his free hand slid lower to her breast, teasing her nipple in calm, circular motions, her lips tightening around his thumb, obeying his command.

"Do you always walk around without a bra? Hm? Do you like it when men look at them?" He muttered warningly, pulling lightly on her nipple, looking at her curiously − she squirmed helplessly, closing her eyes, not knowing what to do with her hands. He could see how, in some subconscious reflex, she wanted to lift them up and embrace him, but reminded herself that she couldn't do that and lowered them again, moving him in some way and arousing him at the same time.

He couldn't remember if his client had ever made him completely hard by her behaviour itself.

"Quiet. We haven't even started properly yet, and already you want me to slap your arse?" He growled mockingly, and she shook her head quickly, drawing in air loudly, looking at him with a pleading look of her big, bright eyes, which he felt between his thighs as his cock swelled unbearably, demanding attention.

"This is my last warning. Lie on your stomach." He said coldly, although inside he felt like his body was on fire.

She obediently pulled off her shoes and lay down on the bed, watching, embarrassed, as he slipped his thumb, moist with her saliva, between his lips and licked it. He quickly pulled off his sweatshirt and shoes, leaving in his black short-sleeved T-shirt and trousers, fixing his hair with a careless flick of his hand.

"Leave only your panties on." He added, hearing her quiet squeal as his large hand gave her one, light, sharp smack on her buttock, just as an encouragement to keep her going.

"Just like that. So pretty." He hummed, watching her undress, climbing onto the bed behind her. He involuntarily licked his lips and grinned in amusement when he saw that underneath her trousers she was wearing pretty lace panties in powder pink.

He thought she was like a lollipop or candy, a sweet little gift bought just for pure pleasure.

As she pulled off her t-shirt she clung with her breasts to the bedclothes, looking somewhere sideways towards the window as if she was afraid of how exposed she was, that she was lying half-naked in front of a strange man who, on top of that, she was going to have to pay for it.

Although he cursed himself for it in the back of his head, the sincerity and naturalness of her behaviour endeared her to him − he thought in disbelief that he wasn't sure that even if she had asked him to punish her more harshly or to cause her intense pain he would have been able to do it.

Would it give him pleasure.

He took her hair aside, exposing her long neck and back, felt her shudder all over as his fingers ran along her spine.

"Are you going to be good, or should I tie you up?" He murmured and she nodded quickly − he hummed under his breath, stroking her bare skin. "Use your words."

"I'll be good. Sir." She added quickly, hearing him shift suddenly in irritation. He let out a loud breath through his nose, leaning down, grasping her wrists in his hands, placing them on either side of her head, showing her the position he expected her to hold them in.

"Your hands are supposed to be here at all times. On the pillow. If I see you take them away from here, I'll tie you up and on top of that, I'll give you ten slaps on the bottom to make sure you remember this lesson well. Do you understand? Use your words." He hissed, driving his fingers into the skin of her wrists, heard her swallow hard and nod her head quickly.

"− y-yes, sir −"

He gasped softly, pleased with her answer and the way it was going − he saw her hands tighten on the material of the pillow as he settled his knees on either side of her buttocks, lowering himself onto them so that she could feel his cock throbbing all under the material of his trousers. She stifled the cry that wanted to escape her lips by pressing her face against his bedding.

"− do you fucking feel it? − do you feel what you're doing to me? −" He muttered, trying to calm his breathing, not knowing why instead of pulling himself together and concentrating on his task he was teasing her, making his manhood painfully hard − he clamped his eyelids shut when he felt her hips begin to buck uncertainly to the rhythm of his movements.

He decided that fuck it, he would do it the way he felt like it, breaking his own rules, knowing that unlike the other women, she really needed this.

His closeness.

She sighed loudly and her whole body trembled as he pressed his face against her soft, fragrant hair, crushing her with his own weight, his hands roamed over the skin of her bare shoulders and the sides of her waist as his nose slowly slid lower, down to her neck, his fingers slipped underneath her and tightened on her soft, plump breasts as his lips pressed against her bare skin.

He heard her start to pant loudly through her mouth, surprised as he was, surely imagining it differently, writhing beneath him, his fingers digging warningly into the soft skin of her breasts, his hot breath enveloping her ear.

"− lie still or we'll do it rough − spread your thighs −" He growled, his thumbs pressing and playing with her nipples. He spread her legs with his knees, making her breath catch in her throat − he could feel her heart pounding fast under his hands, his tongue ran over the bare skin of her neck, smelling the salty taste of her sweat and the sweet taste of her perfume.

"− you're already wet, hm? − shall we check? −" He sneered, sliding the palms of his one hand down her belly − he saw out of the corner of his eye that her fingers clenched tightly on the fabric of the pillow, her whole body stiffened, her head tilted slightly as his fingertips pushed the soft, soaked material of her underwear aside, sinking into her leaking, fleshy womanhood.

"− good God − look at you − all sticky and warm −" He gasped as his fingers began to tease and squeeze her clit lightly, giving her a few encouraging strokes from which helpless, muffled sounds tried to escape her throat − his hand let go of her breasts for a moment and slapped her buttock with all his might, reminding her that she was supposed to be quiet.

He didn't even notice when he started rubbing against her faster from the top, chasing his own fulfilment, completely aroused by what was happening to her, how she was responding to him.

He felt like his cock was about to explode.

"− moan for me − let me hear these sweet sounds −" He whispered in her ear, driving his fingers harder into the soft, leaking structure of her folds.

Moan for me?

What the fuck was that supposed to be?

He sighed when she cried out loudly, clenching her eyes, writhing all under him, again and again rubbing his sore cock with her buttocks. He felt ashamed that even though he was the master of the situation, it seemed to him that somehow it was she who was dictating how it looked, or rather his inability to treat her as he did his other clients.

There was something innocent about her, that her goal was not for him to humiliate her, beat her or hurt her, but for him to guide her, to show her what she really desired and what he could do with her body.

He thought, running his fingertips over her moist, hot slit, that perhaps this was what he had been craving deep inside himself all this time.

"− ah − please, sir −" She mewled helplessly, and he felt her words between his thighs. He licked his lips, trailing his fingers over her throbbing, weeping cunt, teasing her hard nipple with his other hand, each of his movements accompanied by the loud click of her moisture.

"− what are you asking me to do? − use your words −" He exhaled, feeling that he was embarrassingly close to climax himself, and wondered if he was going to cum in his own trousers for the first time in his life.

"− please − please, put it inside me −" She mumbled out and he swallowed hard feeling her buttocks rubbing against his cock.

He froze for a moment, running his fingers over her hot, leaking folds, fighting with himself, on the one hand wanting only this, on the other the contract was different and he never broke the terms he himself had agreed to and signed.

What if, afterwards, she found that she didn't want it and decided that he had raped her, go to the police with it?

This thought sobered his mind a little, though his whole body shuddered with disappointment, his two fingers suddenly forced their way inside her with her moan of pleasure.

"− I can't − you know I can't, don't you? −" He breathed out, pressing the tips of his fingertips into the fleshy structure of her muscles, searching for the spot hidden between them.

She shuddered all over when he felt it a moment later, his thumb trailing over her clit as his two fingers dug in between her slick folds with a loud click of her wetness − he felt her whole body tense in anticipation, again and again his fingers squeezed her the way she needed it.

"− I'll be good, sir − please − please − please − I'll be good −" She cried out, her sticky walls began to clench around his fingers, sucking them inside and he closed his eyes, imagining he felt it on his hard, aching cock.

How tight she was.

He'd never done this before and he knew he shouldn't, but for some reason he was desperate, his mind clouded by what he'd seen and what he needed.

He watched her face in disbelief, her eyes closed, her cheeks flushed with exertion, her lips parted sweetly in a loud, accelerated breath.

"We can do this, but on my terms. I'll just fuck you, nothing more. No money. Do you understand?" He asked her in a trembling voice, as if he wanted to make sure she understood, that it meant nothing to him, that she just turned him on too much and he wanted to take it out on her.

He saw her eyes open suddenly, fear and relief filling her gaze as she whispered just a few words without looking at him.

"Let me look at your face, sir."

He himself didn't know when he suddenly flipped her onto her back as his lips clung with a loud purr to her hard, swollen nipple, sucking and licking it − he heard her moan loudly, startled, making him lose his temper. His hands in a helpless reflex slid down to the button of his trousers and his zipper, releasing his erection quickly, he wasn't sure he had ever been so terrified and aroused at the same time.

He knew things had gotten out of hand and that he would regret it, but he couldn't deny himself, knowing that he would probably never see her again.

"Don't touch me. Do you understand? If you touch me, I'll stop and I'll slap your arse so hard you won't be able to sit for the next few weeks." He hissed, looking her straight in the face, reaching his hand into his pocket to pull out the condom −she merely nodded, her hands clenched on either side of her face, her swollen lips parted in a quick, uneven breath.

He looked at her pretty figure, her sweet, plump breasts, her flushed face, her hair in disarray, and thought helplessly that she was beautiful and that he would go mad if he didn't do this to her.

Never before had he put a condom over his length as quickly as he did then − with a quick, sure, impatient movement he slid her panties off her, already all wet with her moisture, grabbed her by her hips and pushed her closer, momentarily forcing her tight, leaking folds to let him inside her.

He didn't speak, because he didn't know what he was supposed to say either, ashamed of his own desperation as he pushed deeper into her with a sure, sharp thrust.

He began to pound into her as if he had completely lost his mind, fast and out of control − she threw her head to the side, writhing beneath him, moaning loudly, her walls wonderfully moist and hot, clenching on him so tightly that he struggled to restrain himself from cumming just yet, not wanting to humiliate himself.

"− oh God −" He muttered, looking at her as if through a fog, leaning over her, his hands found hers, her fingers clenched on them, seeking proximity − she looked up at him pleadingly, panting and quivering.

He suspected that never before had anyone fucked her at such a brutal, fast pace from which she couldn't catch her breath, her thighs spread wide before him in a gesture of trust, their bodies slapping against each other with the loud clicks of her wetness.

"− these idiots couldn't even fuck you properly, hm? −" He panted low and she only nodded, his fingers intertwining with hers in some subconscious reflex, as if he wanted to show her that he understood her, that she had a right to be disappointed, that he had no idea how any man could fail to give her what she needed.

"− my poor little baby − am I right? −" He breathed out and she cried loudly and nodded her head, something in her gaze, in her eyes flooded with tears, filled with despair, tenderness and relief made him lean lower and cling to her lips.

She moaned loudly into his throat and he felt her walls squeeze him tightly with a sudden, intense orgasm, sucking him inside as his tongue invaded between her lips. She reciprocated his kiss with such devotion that a few of his helpless, sloppy thrusts were enough to make him cum into the condon.

"− fuck − fuck, baby −" He breathed out into her mouth as if she was his, as if they were in his bed in his flat, as if he loved her and was about to have dinner with her or go to sleep lying next to her, as if she wasn't a stranger to him, her sweet scent, her innocent sounds and the taste of her mouth were all that filled his mind as he continued to rock his hips deep inside her.

Even though they had both came, they didn't stop kissing, their lips joining and pulling away from each other lazily with a loud click of their saliva, his hands roaming up and down her fingers, alternately stroking them and entwining them with his own again.

Something about what was happening between them, about this sudden, unexpected closeness calmed him and made him completely drift off.

He knew that she had wanted to touch and kiss him from the very beginning, but she still respected his decision and his rules.

And he, for some reason incomprehensible to himself, broke them for her.

He pressed his face to her cheek, panting along with her, unsure of what he should do now, distracted and ashamed that he couldn't help himself, that for the first time in his life he had overstepped the time and competence he should have given her.

And that wasn't good.

What if she thinks now that they are in love with each other, that maybe one day they will be together? If she starts writing to him and stalking him like so many women before her?

"I'm sorry." He heard her whisper and shuddered, snapped out of his reverie.

He opened his eyes and met her gaze, her hands still on either side of her head. He grunted quietly, horrified at how close she was, that he could smell her pleasant scent so intensely, her breath, the warmth of her body.

"I'm the one who should apologise. I behaved unprofessionally. I won't take money from you." He replied after a moment, and she shook her head, shocked.

"− n-no, why − I mean − after all, you did what we agreed to do − you gave me your time, I −"

"− you're not the kind of person who would enjoy a strong dominant-submissive interaction − you'd be terrified − you're worrying too much − probably those guys before me didn't ask you what you needed, hm? − that's what I thought − there's nothing wrong with you − that's my diagnosis −" He hummed, sighing heavily, lifting himself up on his elbows, placing a lingering, tender kiss on her forehead.

He slipped out of her gently with her quiet hiss of discomfort − he saw her press her lips together when he slided the shed condom off his manhood and tie it off, tossing it into the small bin standing next to his bed, zipping his trousers back up. He saw her reach with a trembling hand for her underwear and sighed under his breath, shaking his head.

"Wipe yourself well first, the tissues are lying on the table next to you. Don't you have underwear to change into?" He asked uncertainly, realising that this was usually obvious to the women who visited him, as it was to him, so he didn't warn her, thinking she would figure it out for herself.

She shook her head quickly and he sighed heavily, taking a bottle of water standing on the table, unscrewing it and handing it to her, seeing that she completely didn't know what she should do with herself now.

"− drink − you'd better just wipe yourself off and put your trousers on −" He replied and she nodded, red with embarrassment, taking a few deep sips of water without looking at him.

He turned away as she started to get dressed, running his hand over his face, recognising that he was an idiot and had completely lost his fucking mind, unable to forgive himself for fucking her even though their terms were different.

He shuddered as she approached him quietly − he thought terrified that she was going to try to touch him, maybe even thinking they were going to become lovers now, but she just held a bundle of banknotes in front of him, looking at him pleadingly.

"− I already told you I won't take it − keep it −"

"− I can't, after all −"

"− don't piss me off −" He growled, and she pressed her lips together, lowering her hand, swallowing loudly.

They stared at each other for a long moment in awkward silence to say the least − he grunted, combing his fingers through his hair, feeling that for some reason his heart was pounding like crazy.

What was happening to him?

"− consider it a gift − we both made each other feel good − right? −" He asked, as if he wanted to make sure he hadn't hurt her. She nodded and smiled softly, shyly, for some reason making him feel a squeeze in his throat.

He regretted that she had ever written to him.

He regretted that he had said yes.

He regretted that it had been so pleasant.

"− thank you − and I apologise again − I won't take up your time anymore − I wish you all the best − please take care of yourself and be happy −" She said finally, and he flinched, looking at her in disbelief − he felt that his lips were parted in shock as he looked at her dully.

He didn't know what to answer.

Only after a while did he get anything out of himself, feeling that she was due at least some perfunctory response.

"− it's me who's sorry − I also wish you all the best −"

She nodded and smiled warmly at him, before her trembling hand reached for her backpack and headed towards the door, opening it and disappearing behind it a moment later.

He looked at the bed, at the sheets where the mark of her body was clearly visible, the fact that she had just been lying there, that he had been deep inside her and had fucked her like he had never put his cock inside any woman before.

He went over there and just lay on his stomach, sinking his face into the pillow that was drenched in her scent.

For the next few days, his head was in a state of chaos − one part of him was afraid that she would reach out to him, that she would seek contact or a relationship with him, like so many women before her wanting to be special to him, to be the only one.

The other part of him was even begging for her to do it, for him to be able to free himself at last from the memories of what he had done to her, that she had broken something in him, that he couldn't look at the women who came after her.

He couldn't focus, he felt remorse, he couldn't even get aroused and he was so frustrated that, to the despair of his regular clients, he decided to take a break for a few weeks to cool down.

His friend from university, Robert, had already invited him to his birthday party a month earlier and although he didn't have the energy to go anywhere, he knew that afterwards he would be listening to him and Criston moan in class about how completely unsocial he was.

He figured that since it was only going to be a private party at his house, he might as well go there at least for a while so no one would accuse him of lack of effort.

When he stopped outside his house he got out of the car and decided to have a quick cigarette, tired and discouraged, knowing that sooner or later his savings would run out and he would have to go back to it, whether he wanted to or not.

Or find another, lower-paid job.

He sighed heavily, clamping his fingers over the base of his nose, closing his eyes, trying to calm himself. He heard movement beside him and the screech of brakes, lifted his gaze and froze when it became apparent that she had just sat down beside him from her bike, a wide smile on her lips as if she thought he was a stranger, only recognising him after a moment, her lips parted then in horror, panic in her gaze.

He stared at her, feeling his body freeze.

Fuck.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

"Oh God. Do you know Robert?" She muttered, and he swallowed hard, feeling a tightening in his throat at the thought that she could have been his friend's girlfriend.

"Yes. Fuck. And you?" He asked her quickly with some sort of accusation, from which she swallowed hard.

"I-I, I'm his younger sister. I went to get some candles, I didn't know…"

"It's okay. I'll just go home." He replied, taking a few quick puffs of his cigarette, crushing it with his foot, turning back towards his car.

"N-no, please. Are you Aemond? Did I guess right? Robert was telling me about you. How he's glad you're coming. That you rarely talk or go out somewhere as a threesome with Criston. It's good that we met here, we'll avoid an awkward greeting. Please, don't be embarrassed." She muttered, and he sighed heavily, running his hand over his face, heartbroken. They both shuddered when they heard a knock on the glass, Robert looked at them through the window and started waving at them, gleeful.

Jesus Christ.

They both headed towards her house, knowing that since he'd seen him, he couldn't run away anymore anyway. He was terrified that since she was Robert's sister, she was someone familiar, not a stranger, that this changed everything and nothing, his heart pounding like mad.

"Do you have a lighter?" She asked as they stopped in front of the front door and he shook his head, snapped out of his reverie, frowning his brow.

"What?"

"Do you have a lighter? Can you help me? I need to light the candles on his birthday cake." She muttered in a whisper as if someone might overhear them, and she was telling him an important secret. He sighed heavily and nodded, recognising that he must have been dreaming all this.

Robert greeted him with joy, all around them Criston, their family and a few of his high school friends, a whole group of people he didn't know and with whom he knew he wouldn't find common ground, and among them her.

He wished him well and gave him his present, but he was unable to focus − he met her terrified gaze, she was pointing her finger at him that she needed his help in the kitchen.

He followed her as if into the lion's mouth, watching from the side as she opened the fridge in the darkness, taking out a blueberry meringue. She sighed heavily, placing it on the table in front of him, only the lights of the street lamps around them.

"It looked better in the picture on the internet, but I did my best." She mumbled, as if she wanted to say anything that would lighten the atmosphere between them.

He felt like an idiot when their trembling hands touched as he handed her the lighter and swallowed loudly, watching as one by one the candles began to glow with the warm, bright light of the flame.

He wanted to ask her if something in her life had changed, if she now knew what she wanted and needed, if she thought about what had happened.

Was she thinking about him.

She picked up the cake when it was all ready and let the air out loud through her mouth, looking him straight in the eye.

"Let's go."

After singing a short 'Happy Birthday', Robert blew out all the candles, happy to announce that his little sister had remembered what cake he loved best, assuring everyone that it was certainly delicious.

They spent the whole party throwing surreptitious, embarrassed glances at each other − he had to empty a few glasses of strong Whisky to calm himself down, the alcohol relaxing him a little, though only seemingly, suppressing his fear, but making him start thinking about something else again.

He looked at her figure dressed in a modest mid-thigh summer dress, her hair, her face − saw the way she laughed, the way she talked to others and felt a squeeze in his throat at the thought that then, being with him, she wasn't pretending.

She really was like that.

Affectionate, open, sweet, kind.

Everything he wasn't.

He swallowed heavily at the thought, sad and embittered, taking another deep sip from his glass.

"How are you going to get home? Criston is staying the night at our house, why don't you stay too? It's late." Said Robert sitting down next to him on the couch, patting him on the back in a friendly manner, already himself relaxed by the considerable amount of alcohol his body had assimilated.

He swallowed hard, looking at his sister from afar, feeling that this was a very bad idea.

"Why not." He muttered, thinking that he was a moron for looking for trouble himself, and that if Robert found out what he'd done to his sister, he'd kill him with his own hands.

Criston and a few others occupied the upstairs rooms, and he suggested he could sleep in the living room on the couch, to which Robert agreed.

He hoped this would embolden her to come to him, as he himself would never have dared to knock on her door despite how desperate he was.

At the thought that he might feel her again, his manhood reacted with an enthusiastic, intense pulsing in his trousers.

He felt that he was drunk as he began to pull off his black tight turtleneck, managing it with difficulty, pulling off his shoes, laying down dressed only in Tshirt and trousers with a quiet sigh and covered himself carelessly with the blanket, listening.

Is she going to do it or not?

And even if she comes to him, should he agree?

He felt disappointment when an hour passed and nothing happened, silence all around him and the loud snoring of someone coming from the upstairs rooms, perhaps her and Robert's father. He sighed heavily, recognising that he had made it all up, that she was surely now ashamed of him and what she had done, trying to forget it.

He swallowed hard at the thought, feeling discomfort in his stomach, and closed his eyes, figuring he would try to get at least a few hours of sleep.

He shuddered and opened them again when he heard a quiet creak, as if someone was walking down the corridor above him, but he wasn't sure himself if it wasn't just his imagination. A shiver ran down his spine and his manhood swelled all over when he heard someone quietly walk down the steps.

Whoever this person was, however, she didn't approach him but walked through the living room to the kitchen.

He felt his heart start pounding like crazy when he caught sight of her silhouette in the darkness, dressed only in an oversized white Tshirt and light shorts − she walked over to the tap, took a glass from the drawer and poured herself some water.

Should he approach her or not?

What if she gets scared?

Fuck.

He didn't even know when he just picked himself up on the couch, for some reason doing it very slowly so that his movements couldn't be heard − he felt like a predator who wanted to get closer to his prey even though he didn't really intend to harm her.

As soon as he stood up he immediately felt the room around him spin, the pleasant, intoxicating warmth of the alcohol melting through his lower abdomen making him seem less terrified of what he wanted to do than if he had been completely sober.

When she caught sight of his silhouette out of the corner of her eye she almost choked on the water − she spat some of it into the sink coughing loudly, making him freeze motionless, afraid to approach her. She quickly wiped her mouth with her hand, looking at him with big eyes.

"My God, you scared me." She muttered pale, her pretty, smooth face illuminated by the warm light of the street lamps standing in front of her house.

He stared at her for a moment, thinking that perhaps it must all have been a dream after all, that the fact that she was standing in front of him was unreal, invented by his distraught, drunken mind.

"I'm sorry." He stammered, swallowing hard, standing a good distance away from her, fighting with himself not to look shamelessly at her bare legs and her nipples peeking through from under her T-shirt.

Again.

They stood for a moment in uncomfortable silence, both of them breathing embarrassingly loudly, as if each of them was reliving deep inside themselves the fact that they were seeing each other again.

And on top of that, in her brother's house.

"I didn't know you were his sister. I swear. I would never do that to you." He finally started to speak, to explain, although he didn't know why − he had the feeling that he was trying to get anything out of himself so she didn't go back upstairs to her room.

He heard her sigh quietly, stroking her bare shoulder with her trembling hand. She shifted from foot to foot in a nervous gesture, looking somewhere to the side, her lips parted slightly in an accelerated breath.

"I know." She whispered, and he felt a heat in his lower abdomen and a pleasant shudder at the thought that perhaps she wasn't misjudging him, that perhaps she wasn't disgusted by him at all.

"How do you feel? I mean − are you okay?" She asked in a trembling voice, as if she wasn't sure if she should be asking this kind of question. She glanced at him uncertainly, clearly wanting to check his reaction, he stared at her stunned, completely surprised by her question.

"− I… yeah, I guess − I mean, I'm on a break from − you know − from this − right now −" He muttered, tucking his hands into the pockets of his black trousers, looking at the floor, feeling ashamed and embarrassed for some reason.

It's because of you, he wanted to say.

I did it for you.

"Something happened?" She asked after a moment, playing with the fingers of her hands in a nervous reflex, as if she was afraid of what she would hear.

"− yes − I mean − I have doubts − I always had, but now… they've intensified − you know −" He muttered, shrugging his shoulders, feeling the tightness in his throat and stomach growing stronger, his heart pounding like mad, cold sweat running down his back.

I'm just a whore, he thought.

I sell myself for money.

She nodded her head quickly so he knew she understood.

"− I'm sorry −" She said quietly, and he looked at her dully, not knowing why for some reason his lower lip trembled, why he felt a burning sensation under his eyelids.

He was ashamed that he desired her so much, that he wanted her words but also her body, wanted to fuck her first and then embrace her and fall asleep.

Was he treating her objectively? Was he only able to think about one thing?

Sex, sex, sex, sex.

He couldn't get anything out of himself.

He shuddered, drawing in air loudly as she came closer to him, in her gaze genuine fear and worry at his condition, questioning whether she could do anything for him, help him in any way.

He knew she longed to touch him − he saw out of the corner of his eye her hand rising to touch his shoulder but falling back after a moment, reminding himself that he never allowed anyone to invade his space.

He felt like screaming.

"− do you want to talk about it? −"

He wasn't sure he wanted to talk to anyone about it, but after a while he was sitting next to her on the terrace anyway, covered in a thick, soft blanket, sitting next to her on a rather uncomfortable wooden bench hanging by chains, which he rocked back and forth with involuntary movements of his knees, lighting a cigarette from his lighter with a quiet hiss of fire.

He took a drag and let the smoke out loudly through his nose, sighing quietly, just thinking about the fact that their hips and shoulders were touching.

"What did you think of me? After all this." He asked suddenly, swallowing loudly as he heard her twist in her place, throwing him a surprised, even horrified look. She sighed quietly, covering herself more tightly with the fluffy material.

"That you are a good man."

He felt his hand with the cigarette freeze in mid-motion as he was about to take another drag and for some reason he laughed in disbelief at her words, feeling a piercing pain in his chest, his eyebrows arching in amusement.

"That I'm a good man. Good God." He hummed, taking another drag − he could see she was looking down at her fingers, ashamed of her words and his cruel reaction. He licked his lower lip with his tongue and closed his eyes, feeling that he was completely hard.

He could smell her, she was still using that fruity, pleasant, fresh perfume.

"You're a romantic, innocent soul, aren't you?" He sneered, letting the smoke out again through his nose with a loud sigh − he heard her cough quietly as the smell of tobacco rose into her lungs. She grunted quietly, her lips tightened in displeasure.

"Innocent souls come to a strange man to spank them for money?"

"You didn't want me to spank you. You haven't experienced even a hint of real, hard domination, sweet girl." He snarled, spreading himself out comfortably on the back of the bench with a loud creak of wood, the metal chains squeaking quietly each time he made another movement with his foot, putting the structure in motion.

"So why did you agree to this?" She asked finally, and he fell silent, staring blankly ahead, taking one last drag on what was left of his cigarette.

"Good question."

They both fell silent again, feeling that their conversation was starting to get out of hand, and after all, someone could have woken up, opened the window, overheard their words.

"Did you tell Robert?" He asked suddenly, and she shook her head, horrified.

"N-no, of course not. And I won't. This is between you two. He respects you very much." She muttered, lowering her gaze to her bent knees, which she held under her chin. He hummed at her statement, accepting her words with some sort of relief.

"Did that help you? Now you know what you need?" He asked impassively, letting the smoke out loudly through his mouth, dropping the remnants of his cigarette into the glass with the unfinished drink, feeling her gaze on him, her body tense, he knew she had hesitated.

"In a way." She replied, and he dared to look her straight in the eye.

She didn't lower her gaze even though he knew some part of her wanted to do so, her lips parted slightly when she noticed his hands had slipped under the blanket, into his trousers. She swallowed loudly when she heard the sound of his zipper being undone and the fabric being unfastened.

"Come here. Sit on my lap." He ordered softly, and she did so without hesitation, as if she had only been waiting for those words, something in her confidence, in her assurance, in her desire, in her hot gaze made his breath stand in his throat.

They said nothing as he slipped her shorts off her, as he lowered his trousers, finally releasing his aching, swollen erection, already leaking from his precum. He didn't protest when her hands tentatively embraced his neck, barely touching him, merely catching her balance, his free hand covering their hips with a blanket.

"I'm clean. I had myself tested a few weeks ago, after I'd already taken a break." He whispered, feeling his cock throb aggressively in his hand at the thought that he could come deep inside her if she would just let him. She nodded her head in understanding, one movement of his hand between her thighs reassuring him that no further treatment would be necessary.

"Have you been this wet all evening? Hm? Have you suffered as much as I have?" He gasped, directing the pink, fat head of his manhood at her swollen slit. She nodded again, her lips parted in disbelief and delight, her eyes closed as she felt him begin to push inside her,his thumbs spreading her folds to the sides, watching with a rapidly beating heart as he slowly opened her wide on his cock.

"− fuck − fuck, tell me you're taking your pills −" He breathed out, tilting his head back, with one sure thrust of his hips filling her tight, leaking cunt to the brim. She squirmed quietly as he began to move inside her immediately, pounding into her with deep, sure stabs, rubbing each time the spot inside her from where she could see stars.

"− y-yes −" She mumbled out, rising and falling on his thick, aching manhood, giving him a wonderful squeeze each time, from which he sank his fingers deeper into her soft buttocks, forcing her into a fast, sharp rhythm in which he hardly slid out of her, panting and grunting louder than usual, thinking only of how wonderfully warm she was, that he could feel her moist, fleshy walls with his whole being with each sure thrust.

"− kiss me −" He exhaled and groaned loudly into her mouth as her lips instantly clung to his in a sloppy, sticky dance, his tongue invading deep into her throat, a shudder went through him as one of her hands combed through his hair.

"− m sorry −" She mumbled, immediately lowering her hand, but he put his one arm around her waist and pressed her closer to him, deepening the kiss with a loud purr of satisfaction, feeling wonderful, the alcohol had given him courage, and her touch was sweet and tender, not making him feel cornered.

"− it's okay − touch my face −" He sighed out between loud, wet licks of their swollen lips, quickening his pace as her hands gripped his cheeks, as her forehead pressed against his. Her walls began to clench on him with increasing intensity, making him lose his temper, not letting her escape the brutal thrusts of his hips.

"− oh, God − fuck, where −" He only mumbled, feeling that it was about to be too late.

"− please, inside me − ah −" She mewled so sweetly that he sighed loudly, surprised to feel his muscles relax, his semen spilling deep inside her without his willpower as her walls began to suck him and squeeze him in orgasm.

They both panted loudly, rocking their hips for a while longer, pulsing and shuddering, stroking each other's faces, looking at each other with their lips slightly parted, breathing heavily.

"− shall we go out somewhere tomorrow? − you know − to the pub or something? −" He muttered embarrassed that he had wanted something more, that he broke his own rule.

He was relieved when she giggled and smiled, nodding, only to lean in a moment later and kiss him in a drawn-out manner with her soft, puffy lips. He murmured contentedly, stroking her warm, bare buttocks with lazy movements, reciprocating her caress with a loud click of their saliva.

She pulled away from him at last, her hand combing slowly through his short hair making a pleasant shiver run along his spine.

"− why not −"

[nanamis-bigtie]

nonsexual acts of intimacy ↬ head scratches

❧ inumaki toge x gn!reader | cw: aged up character, established relationship, domestic fluff ❧

It's surprising now how little is said between the two of you without any words. It's Inumaki who's bound by vows and limitations, there's nothing that forces you to adopt the same habits—and yet, you follow almost religiously. Silence has grown only natural, the sound of your voices scrunches like wet sand in your ears; not quite unpleasant but alien and unexpected. Even your own seems so out of place when you use it within your four walls. As if someone uninvited sneaked into your home and joined the conversation.

Frankly, you don't really need verbalization when everything that's needed could be read from your faces and bodies. Inumaki hasn't made a single sound but a gentle hum to announce himself when he's come back and yet, you already scoot to the side of the sofa, just enough for him to fit and enjoy some of the warmth your body left. He strays only to grab a blanket and a pack of snacks before he finally settles by your side, head in your lap.

"Rough day?" Your fingers ask, brushing strands out of his eyes. They're velvet-soft, slick and skim through your fingertips with ease, like threads of silk. It's almost unfair, for a guy who's dyed his hair since high school, if not earlier, to have it in such excellent condition. 

Inumaki's eyes smile at you through the net of little wrinkles. Out of you all, he's been touched by the passing time the least, but even his youthful appearance couldn't avoid all marks of years. Still, his weight pressed to your thighs, would suit rather a teenager than an adult man at the edge of his thirties. He's so thin…and it always worries you a little.

Again, no word or sign was exchanged, but Inumaki is smiling wider, understanding, when he opens the snack as soon as a grimace runs through your face.

"Don't worry about me," cookies crunch in his mouth. "See? I'm eating."

You indulge yourself and sink fingers deeper into his hair, shamelessly messing it. You don't have to worry about tangling it, it's too slick to tie into knots, so you reach straight for the scalp. Threading through strands, you gently scratch his skin and return his peaceful smile, blooming with appreciation for your care.

"Thank you, love," is said by a low, pleased rumble straight from his chest—the louder the closer you are to one of his favorite spots. He shamelessly presses against your hand to have them reached faster and almost pouts when you tease him and act against.

When you finally give in and curl your fingers to scratch him exactly to his liking, Inumaki visibly melts, all muscles relaxed and eyes closing in pleasure. Right now, he reminds you of a cat, arching its back for the willing hand of a favorite human. He even sounds similar—and the softness of his hair beats any feline fur you've touched so far.

"A kitty," you speak with your own voice this time, unwittingly, and far from a whisper. 

Inumaki lazily opens one eye, studies your surprised expression with a growing smirk.

"Go on," he asks through the dimples showing under the clan seal.

Or so you think at first, through the few seconds before the characteristic tingle of his cursed energy sneaks around your brain.

"You're my good kitty," you continue, embracing the soft encouragement pushing the words out of you. 

a/n: yes, I placed this drabble roughly 10 years past current manga events. dyed hair is just a silly headcanon of mine but I'd not be surprised if it was somewhat canon. don't kick me if it is, details easy escape my mind lmao

[heavenlyvision]

Hcs about reader giving the lin kuei brothers head for the first since?🌝

GIVING LIN KUEI TRIO HEAD 🌚 pairing: Bi-Han/reader | Kuai Liang/reader | Tomas Vrbada/reader wc: 1.4k warnings: 18+ only, smut, blowjobs, cum swallowing, gender neutral reader, no pronouns used !! <3 a/n; it took me a long time to get to this request, I'M SO SORRY >_> i have many and it's a little overwhelming but i hope you enjoy anon !!! <333 MDNI | SMUT UNDER CUT

BI-HAN ---------------

⟢ giving Bi-Han head for the first time would involve a lot of him taking lead and also being careful as to not push you too far ⟢ he feels vulnerable when like that, to be solely receiving pleasure would give him pause ⟢ not to say he wouldn’t enjoy it; he’d enjoy getting his dick sucked immensely ⟢ having your mouth wrapped around him, would make him insane, his cock would be twitching and leaking profusely for you, the sounds he’d make grunted and supressed, not wanting to show just how much you affect him ⟢ he wouldn’t push on your head, not the first time anyways, he’d have his hand resting against the back of your head or neck though, letting you know who’s in charge here, he has control, no matter how much you’re unravelling him right now ⟢ it’s not completely true, you’d lick at the tip of his cock a certain way and he could swear he’s seen some kind of deity, his mind falling apart the more you slurp and suck at him ⟢ the more you pull him apart, the more his words would escape him, he’d mumble all kinds of praises and encouragements to you, never wanting you to stop ⟢ you’d take him all the way to the back of your throat and hold him there, he’d nearly go cross eyed, fighting with himself to look down at you, needing to see the pathetic look on your face when his cock is so deep inside your mouth, he’d want to see the sloppy state you’re in, he’d have to see it ⟢ he’d still want to be gentle with you but his hips would be fighting the urge to thrust, twitching, wanting to fuck your face until you’re crying, wanting to see your cheeks stained in tears ⟢ having your mouth on him, it’s like a slice of heaven he doesn’t think he’s quite worthy of ⟢ to have you on your knees for him and taking his dick without any complaints, being so willing to please, it would fill him with a deep sense of satisfaction and happiness ⟢ knowing you trust him so deeply, enough so to let him have you this powerless for him, it enhances his pleasure by tenfold ⟢ the best part of you giving him head, for him anyways, is the intimacy, he wouldn’t be soft and caring but it’s an incredibly intimate act for him, to let you be the one rendering him this useless, is a vulnerable state and to him, that’s as intimate as he can really get ⟢ he’d also love how much of a fucking mess you’d be after he’s cum in your mouth, loving the way you swallow his load, how you’ve drooled all over your chin and how your eyes are all glassy and wet from just how deeply you got his dick in your mouth

KUAI LIANG ---------------

⟢ offering Kuai Liang head would make his head spin, he’d want to make sure you’re okay with it, that you’re completely willing, and once he’s sure of that, he’s more than ready to have you on your knees for him ⟢ your mouth on him would make him melt, he wouldn’t be able to help the way he almost immediately wants to thrust into your mouth ⟢ he’s verbal with how well you’re doing, his hand would stroke your head and cheek, cooing at you, telling you how amazing you look with his dick in your mouth ⟢ he’d let you have this, letting you choose your pace, he’d want you to pull him apart how you want to ⟢ it’s a shared act, he’d love how worked up it would get you, part of what he would love is how much it affects you ⟢ he’s a tease and he’s no different when receiving head, even if he’s a mess from your ministrations, he’d still huff out comments on how cute it is that you’re getting worked up from this ⟢ he’d hold off for as long as he could but at some point his hand is on the back of your head and he’d guiding you up and down the length of his cock, making sure you’re okay with it, needing communication even when you can’t reply verbally ⟢ he’s gentle about it but he also can’t help but be a little bit greedy, he’s worked up, dick ridiculously hard, he’s guiding you just a bit, to make sure you know just how he likes it ⟢ when he’s sure you understand, he’d loosen up a bit, letting you choose how you want to proceed, a moan ripped from him when you choose to slurp him all the way down and choke on him a bit, hand fondling his balls lightly ⟢ his whole body would short circuit and twitch for you, his mind leaving him, too lost in the feel of your mouth ⟢ his control would slip almost completely, you’d have rendered him speechless, his only ability being to moan and rolls his hips lightly, his pelvis grinding into your nose ⟢ his orgasm would be sudden to both of you, his cum spilling down your throat completely, his brows would be creased tight as you keep your mouth on him and just take his whole load ⟢ he’d love the scene of watching you slide your mouth off his cock, licking and cleaning him as you go, the view obscene and the noises worse, his gaze would be intense, carefully watching your mouth, your tongue, he’d never forget just how well you did for him ⟢ his heart would be pounding in his ears and he’d damn near go blind from how you lick up the mess he’s made of himself, the image is imprinted in his memories for life

TOMAS ---------------

⟢ Tomas would be hesitant; he enjoys giving more than receiving but he’s also willing to let you do whatever you want with him ⟢ he’d be complimenting you the whole time, his touch gentle and his comments encouraging, kind, complimentary ⟢ he’s careful not to disrupt you, wanting you to do what you want to do, he doesn’t want to ruin the pace you’ve set ⟢ his words would garble together, word slurring the longer you’d tease him, his thighs shaking and his abs tensing, hands clenching into fits at his sides, not wanting to grab at you, well he would want to grab at you, so badly, but he wants you to enjoy this too ⟢ he doesn’t mind giving you this control, he adores that you’re letting him stick his dick in your mouth, he’s elated about it even ⟢ his mind reeling with how he got so lucky, at some point he would even probably be thinking of what he can do after to return the favour, his pleasure heightened by thoughts of all the pleasure he could give you himself ⟢ knowing that you wanted to do this for him would drive him wild in a different way as well, knowing that you like his pleasure just as much as he enjoys yours would make his cock ache ⟢ he’d be messy, just a complete and utter mess everywhere, your mouth making it worse but he’d also be leaking so much precum that it’d make both your heads spin, his inner thighs sticky from it and your saliva ⟢ his head would lull on his shoulder, he’d be completely pliable, just letting you suck the soul out of him ⟢ the more far gone he’d get, the more his hips would jerk and the harder it would be for him to fight it off, his limbs feeling borderline boneless ⟢ he’d be so vocal for you, verbally and just audibly in general, the way you’d moan on him when he’d groan and whimper from the pleasure would have him loosening his lips a little more, still trying to please you, even when dumb from desire ⟢ he’d love staring at you the whole time, eye contact is huge for him and making sure you know he’s watching you is important to him, the only time he ever directs you, being to make sure you look at him ⟢ his balls would pull so tight and he’d be nearly disappointed he couldn’t last longer, never wanting this to end but also wanting to see how you look with his cum in your mouth ⟢ he’d almost be sad to see you swallow it all, obsessed with how it dribbles out the corners of your mouth and down your neck ⟢ he’d think, next time, he’s asking you to hold it in your mouth, just a little longer

[mysadcorner]

Hi! I love your Jason Todd stuff and idk if you write stuff like this, but I was wondering how you think Jason would react to his s.o safe wording for the first time?

If you don't do things like this that's completely fine and I'm sorry about asking.

Jason Todd x Reader Using The Safe Word Headcanons

————————————————————————

-Credit to the images owners - Please be specific about characters wanted in requests -

Masterlist Navigation

• When you first use the safe word while being intimate with Jason he’ll absolutely freak out. The last thing he would ever willing do would be to hurt you, so the thought of you having to ask him to stop because he’s going ti far will cause him a lot of distress on top of your own.

• If the two of you were engaged in something on the “hardcore” side of intimacy then he’s be a mess, begging for forgiveness as he stops what he’s doing and checking up on you. He’ll assess the damage and try to soothe you both emotionally and physically since he clearly wasn’t ensuring you were fine enough during the act.

• If you said the safe word simply because you were overwhelmed, not that Jason was doing anything which resulted in you being hurt, then he’d try his best to ease you out of you discomfort and bring you back to a stable condition. He’s also going to soothe you when this happens and try his best to calm you down from whatever limit he pushed you too far over.

• He’d sure you’re cleaned up so that you can settle down easier and get rid of the discomfort you may be feeling in that moment. It’s easier for him to get you wrapped up in bed and get you back to feeling alright again if you’re not sitting covered in sweat and other things that occurred during intimacy.

• Afterwards, Jason would make sure that you were comfortable and feeling able to lie in bed properly while he checks over you. He’d bring you food and drinks, and massage any places that ache, as well as checking in on you emotionally to make sure he hadn’t caused a negative impact on your relationship with him or made you feel like you can’t be comfortable around him again.

• He’d ask you to open up to him and talk about what had just happened and why it may have been too much for you, but only once you feel like you’re ready to. He needs to know how he overstepped so that he never makes that same mistake again, and communication is something Jason hugely values for a healthy and understanding relationship. No matter how big or small the problem was, he’ll take whatever you say on board.

• He may be slightly hesitant to be intimate again with you for a little while due to feeling like he made you overwhelmed or hurt you and feels ashamed about it, even though he never meant too push you too far. You may need to reassure him and talk to him about what happened a few times before he starts engaging in that way, but it will still take him a little while to get back into rougher or kinkier kinds of things with you again.

• After you use the safe word for the first time, Jason will be checking in on you a lot more and asking for verbal input regarding everything he’s doing towards you while being intimate. He already dod this before, but after pushing you too far he feels a lot more comfortable knowing how you’re feeling at all times so it’s much less likely of happening again.

[galaxiasgreen]

🍭☀️A Cruelty Vivid and Sweet

Slow burn angsty Ominis x F!Reader [T-Rated, 7.8k words]

Letting himself embrace this horrid part of his heritage terrified him. It was like being back in the cellar again, that Muggle writhing beneath him in pain, his parents and brother lauding his name. Gaunt. No matter what he did to unbind himself from the bloodline, always it came back to shackle him. Always, it answered when he didn't call.

In which, even after he broke your friendship, Ominis can't get you out of his head.

Tropes: angst/ romance/ drama, slow burn, black cat x golden retriever, opposites attract, forbidden love, Scriptorium quest, Muggle culture, Your Scent in the Amortentia, Going Feral when You're Hurt, Comforting You When You're Sad.

[read on AO3, read on Wattpad] [PREV][NEXT]

2: When Everything Changed

You didn't speak to him for a long time.

Justifiably, Ominis knows. It's one thing to insult, degrade, demean someone, but something else entirely to diminish their very existence, to reduce them to flesh and bones and happenstance. You were Muggle-born, he was pure-blood. Your friendship together was as tenuous as life itself.

You didn't deserve risk, so he steeled his heart, his mind. He moved through the struggles of fourth year silently, like a wraith, participating only when needed. A clock was ticking for summer – he couldn't spend the entire holiday at Feldcroft, though he longed for it, though Sebastian offered. When the dread of it came, thick and drowning, it was the thought of you, what he was doing ultimately to protect you, that eased the pain. He didn't realise how deeply you had planted your vines inside him, so that everything he did now, anything he felt, or touched, or tasted, reminded him of you. You were ingrained, and no matter how hard he tried to uproot you, you would not wither.

Perhaps this was his reality now. Perhaps he would never speak to you again.

Naturally, fifth year changed everything.

The new school year rang with tension. A goblin tyrant, Ranrok, sought vengeance against wizardkind, with his influence strongest around the Scottish Highlands, scattered around the hamlets around Hogwarts. His plans were unclear, just another thing Ominis worried about, massaging his temple on the walk up to school for the first evening.

Sebastian wasn't in a talkative mood. He'd come to verbal blows with his uncle that afternoon, when Ominis was packing and keeping Anne company. Their voices were so raised they could be heard in the entire village.

"Stop getting her hopes up! For goodness sake, she's cursed. At least let her enjoy however long she has left in peace, without your meddling!"

"Meddling?" Sebastian scoffed. "She's my sister! I'll find a cure for her—"

"If St Mungo's Healers can't do it, no fifteen year-old boy will either."

"You might've given up, but I haven't."

"I've stopped trying to fill her head with false hope and nonsense!"

Anne's lethargic sigh had pulled Ominis away. "I'm so tired."

"You should rest."

"No." She fell back against the pillow. "I mean, of their arguing."

Truthfully, Ominis was tired of it too. He heard enough hatred at home, the few lonely weeks he had to spend there before absconding to Feldcroft. For the most part, his parents ignored him, though there were days they dragged him to dinners or parties with the other pure-blood families. He made sure to give the Malfoys as wide a berth as possible, even though Peregrine didn't bother him again.

"Can you promise me something, Ominis?" Anne had asked.

He'd pursed his lips. "That depends on what it is."

"You'll keep an eye on Sebastian this year." A wry laugh. "A metaphorical eye, that is."

He always intended to. The darkness was offering Sebastian solace, and he feared his best friend was diving down a path from which there was no return. How far would he be willing to go for Anne?

"I'll do my best."

"And... and talk to Gibby."

He hadn't heard your name all summer. It sent a frisson through him, equally terrifying and pleasant, and made to leave before an inevitable interrogation—

"Please," she said, stopping him. "Sometimes family isn't blood. Sometimes family is heart. And she is as much a part of yours as the rest of us are."

Yet, when he left with Sebastian an hour later, he adamantly reminded himself why he made that pact in the first place. He could not— would not talk to you, and rub raw a healing wound. Things were simply too dangerous to risk it, if not from Peregrine Malfoy, then from one of the other pure-blood families, the Lestranges, the Blacks, or the Fawleys.

When he and Sebastian arrived at the school, sun hushing the horizon, Ominis paid no mind to the knowledge that you were there, somewhere at the Hufflepuff table, enjoying the start of term without him. He took his seat next to his best friend and expected the same opening speech, Sorting Ceremony and feast.

Only there was one thing different.

Missy was what everyone called her. The nickname was sparked by rumour, as thick as honey – unlike yours, spurred by your actions, your quirks, Missy's had come before her, on the train up to Hogwarts, where all the fifth years spoke of a new student starting this year under the mentorship of Professor Fig.

Staring school so late, with the support of a prominent Hogwarts professor? That was unusual, she was unusual. A mystery.

Only when she appeared at the Sorting Ceremony, late, it was apparent she was anything but.

"There she is," Nerida crowed in the hum of chatter. "The new girl!"

"Her hair is amazing," said Violet, awed.

Ominis heard the new girl – like you, she had a distinctive set of sounds he could use to distinguish her from others. But unlike you, however, there was no naivety, no jolliness or upbeat wonder. There was only purpose, strong with each stride and levelled breath. Even as the interloper, and a late one at that, she acted like she already belonged.

His heart ached suddenly – the memory of the Undercroft tore at him, and he fought to keep it down, push away the strange sensation that came with thinking of you.

When the new girl was sorted into Slytherin, she sat next to Sebastian. "Hello." Her voice was distinctive too, well-spoken, eloquent, from wealth.

"The mystery student," Imelda said, clearly more impressed than she let on. "The whole year's been talking about you."

"Have they?" She didn't seem bothered by this at all. "Is that what I am? A mystery?"

"A real lady of mystery," said Sebastian, equally intrigued.

"Oh," said the mystery student, chuckling – Ominis caught threads of a sinister undertone. "I'm no lady. Miss is just fine."

"Well, then, Miss Mystery," Sebastian teased, "welcome to Hogwarts."

Ominis was too polite to ask what her real name was. It was too late now, anyway. The nickname stuck like mud, too fitting for a girl with an air of something otherworldly and powerful to be displaced. Your laughter bubbled in his head – maybe she would come to love the nickname as you did.

But there was no point thinking about you anymore. No point imagining what the future beheld for you.

Later that month, Ominis asked after what Missy looked like, if only to build a better picture of how different you were to one another, but Sebastian had only laughed.

"I'd tell you, but she changes her hair and eyes every day. Always in Snelling's Emporium. And her robes – she's never wearing them! Every class we go to she just puts on capes and hats and all sorts. It's a mismatch."

A very strange girl indeed, but not in the same way you were, in the same way you still are.

As the air began to chill, Ominis felt the change in his friend like frigid air on bare skin. He was warming to the new girl, more rapidly than Ominis expected – she invited him to Hogsmeade, joined his secret duelling club, stole him for night-time escapades and thirsted for knowledge only he could give. It seemed harmless enough at first, but the new girl had a particular sway, popular but not needy with the attention, mysterious but still generous with her time, and genial with her friends. Especially with Sebastian.

Worst of all, you were becoming her friend too. She was like the replacement for what you'd lost.

"Amortentia." Professor Sharp's voice carried through the Potions classroom one day, as October crept up the front lawns. "I'm sure you're all familiar with this, but for our new student's sake, could someone please refresh us on its properties?"

Unsurprisingly, Garreth spoke up. "It's the most powerful love potion in the world. It smells different to everyone according to what most attracts them."

"Very good. This is a potion we will be learning to brew in seventh year. As Mr Weasley has said, this is the most powerful love potion in the world." The last part he emphasised seriously. "It is not to be trifled with. Today, we will be brewing weaker love potions, but I am allowing you all to see for yourself the properties of Amortentia, so that you may recognise it outside the classroom. Dare I say, so you can protect yourself should anyone try to use it on you."

Sharp allowed them to gander at the potion as they brewed their own. The fifth-year girls were most excited, and as Ominis prepared his ingredients, the Hufflepuffs plus Missy headed up to the main station to have their turn.

Of course, you were amongst that group.

"Well, Missy?" you asked, as eager and animated as he remembered you to be. "What does it smell like?"

Missy took a whiff, then laughed.

"Secrets."

"Secrets don't have a scent," said Lenora haughtily.

"They do to me." She stood back, let you go ahead. "Go on then, Gibby, your turn. What does it smell like to you?"

Ominis struggled not to listen.

"Sweets." Of course it did. "Magic. You know, just the general scent of it. And..." Your voice turned tart. "Oil."

The giggling ceased. "Oil?" asked Adelaide.

"Oil," you confirmed, in a way that brooked no space for discussion.

What an absurd thing to find attractive. Did oil even have a scent? He pondered on this for a while, trying to untangle its meaning until their potions were neatly bubbling and Sebastian nudged him out of his thoughts.

"Want to go up next?"

They went after Everett declared his favourite scent to be broom handles ("Probably because that's the closest thing he'll ever get to a girl's touch," Sebastian muttered). Already the aroma was drawing him closer, a pleasant tickling like a silk robe on freshly bathed skin.

Sebastian inhaled deeply.

"Hmm."

"Well?"

"Old parchment," he said, "and hair dye."

Hair dye? "I've been told you were starting to grey."

"Funny. No idea why it smells like that."

But Ominis did. Just an inkling, anyway.

"Your turn." His friend stepped back. "You more than most anyone to know what it smells like."

Perhaps nothing, he thought in vain. It was a folly to think himself above such emotions. In fact, though his family may have tried to beat it out of him, it took strength to admit he had such a weakness at all. Since his sense of smell was more acute than most, it would've been strange, perhaps concerning, if there was no scent to the Amortentia at all.

So Ominis leant forwards and inhaled. The aroma was so heady he could get drunk on the smell alone.

"Honeysuckle," he murmured, probably because they grew around Feldcroft, and the memories were something he cherished. "Polished wood, like in a wandshop. And something... sweet." It was a sudden overwhelming note, and his voice grew hoarse. "It's very sweet. Something like—"

He iced over.

Strawberry laces.

"Something like...?" Sebastian said. "Your face has gone red."

"What?" Ominis drew back, willed the scent to disappear. "I— I don't recognise it."

Sebastian didn't say a word at first. Then came the insufferable chuckling beneath his breath.

"Ah, wait. Sweet, was it?"

"I said I don't recognise it." And when Sebastian went to speak again, Ominis quickly snapped, "Not another word."

But he knew, when his friend lapsed into contented, smug silence, this was by far the last time they'd have this conversation.

Without meaning to be, without even being there, you were a cruelty, vivid and sweet, and no matter what he did, he was powerless beneath your spell.

But with tensions rising in the world, he could not afford to think about you. He couldn't afford to think about what your scent in the Amortentia meant for his confused, muddled feelings.

By chance, he got the opportunity to think elsewhere the next day, when a letter arrived – from Gringotts, of all places. The braille glided beneath his fingertips, and he realised it was a will, his Aunt Noctua's will. It was getting to the point where she'd been missing longer than she had not, and his parents had finally bowled through solicitors and admin to snatch the last of the pittance from her vault. With no next of kin, she had given most of it to Ominis, though the money wasn't actually his until he turned seventeen.

Truthfully, the worst part was he could barely remember Noctua's voice anymore. He wondered constantly where she had gone, why she'd left him with her horrible brother and family. Once when he was eight, when a hopeful innocence still sang through him, Noctua had come to watch over him as his parents and siblings attended a society event in London. A pure-blood ball, he was told. Adults talking about adult things, how dull. As the youngest, Ominis hadn't been permitted to go, but he didn't mind so much when he got to spend time with his whacky aunt.

He was practicing his braille as Noctua tidied about the room.

"They'll be back after sundown," she was saying, "so make sure you're finished before then."

"Isn't it midday?"

"It's one."

"So I have lots of time."

"Yes," she said mirthfully, "but I want to take you to the village later today."

The village? "That's the Muggle place, and Father says I shouldn't go near them. They're all stupid anyway. Like pigs."

"Is that what he said?"

"Yes."

A creak as she sat on the bench next to him. Her hand ran down his back.

"You should know, Ominis, that not everything your father says is true. Muggles aren't anymore stupid than wizards are. They're hardly different from us at all."

The comment, harmless in retrospect, felt like an affront to everything Ominis knew. "But they don't have magic. That makes them stupid."

"It doesn't make them stupid. You don't have your sight. Does that make you stupid?"

"No," he said at once, indignant.

"So you understand. What we have and do not have doesn't matter. It is how we choose to live that does. In the end, we all return to the earth in the same way, flesh and skeleton."

That didn't make sense to him. "But how do they do anything if they don't have magic?"

"Well, you're learning your braille now, aren't you? They find ways to do things that work for them." She stood. "Tell you what, why don't we go to the village now? You can finish your work later."

Ominis agreed. He wanted to know, after all, if what Noctua said was true. She dressed him down for it, cotton and breeches and a woollen coat that drowned his arms, and they headed out before the clock struck two, Ominis clutching her hand as the wind bandied playfully with his hair. It didn't take them long to walk, though he detected so many new scents, new sounds. Wheat fields susurrating within musky spruce fences, crackling bonfires and burnings that pumped smoke into the sky. They reached a low stone wall that bordered the village river, cold against Ominis' hands, before Noctua hushed him.

"Do you remember the rules around Muggles?"

"No talking about the M-word," he said diligently, "or that we are the W-word."

So Noctua took him on a stroll through the market. He was surprised at the atmosphere, busy but not bustling. Horses clattered against cobblestone, ivy rustled against houses with rooves made of thatch. Knives slammed down on meat and fish, and there was bartering, so much bartering, for the best cuts and lowest prices.

"Come off it, Dave. Two shillings for that? You must be joking."

"Ain't no joke. Gotta' keep the lights on somehow, don't I?"

They chuckled, even though Ominis didn't understand why, until he remembered Muggles simply couldn't call upon light whenever they wanted. They had to rely on candles and hearths and gas lanterns. They had to rely on their own labour to make ends meet and provide for their children.

A thread of something fresh caught Ominis' nose then, and he turned towards the scent. Warm bread, just baked.

"Want some?" asked Noctua.

His family teachings came to him. Make no disturbance of your betters. "No thank you."

"Are you sure?"

It did smell nice, but he worried about whether Muggle bread was poison for wizards. Still, Noctua took him into the bakery, and thought terror laced through his fascination, he took the bread Noctua paid in their strange Muggle money and eagerly bit into the crust. It was warm and buttery and filled his belly to full – and best of all, it tasted like regular bread. No poison.

"Ah, born like that, was he?" said the baker.

Noctua seemed so at ease with them. "Yes, he's practicing braille at the moment."

"Oh, now, that's wonderful. Keep at it, lad. You'll do great."

"Thanks," Ominis managed. He'd never spoken to a Muggle before. He didn't know Muggles learnt braille too.

Noctua took him back outside as he finished the last of his bread. "Well? What do you think?"

The general mood was buoyant and hopeful. Not everyone was affluent, yes, but there was something wonderful in the way they worked tirelessly to get what they wanted. If the air smelt the same, the food tasted the same, the people merry and sad and angry the same...

"It's a bit like Hogsmeade," he admitted at last, because that was all he had to compare it to.

"So you see, then," said Noctua, a twinkle in her voice. "Not so different after all."

Only when they got back to the house, Ominis not entirely convinced but probing for more, he felt a shift in the air like claws on his shoulders. His parents had arrived home early, as had Marvolo and his noisy sneer.

"At the village, I see," his father barked. Then, "Ominis, to your room. Now."

Ominis knelt to the ground and pressed an ear to the crack under his door so he could hear the argument in the foyer below.

"You will do well to remember that he is my son, and I will not have you traipsing him around in Muggle slums!"

"Do you want him to be so completely unaware of the surrounding world? He'll have to live outside these walls one day."

Marvolo scoffed. "The boy is blind, Noctua."

"In sight, not in head," she retorted. "Though he will be if you all keep treating him this way."

It was nice to hear her support him, and from then on he enjoyed her company a lot more. She had so much wisdom to share, about the Muggle world, about his family, about the dark secrets that followed the Gaunts like shadow. When she went missing, he despaired in his bedroom alone, knowing all too well no one but him would care. It was only until that will arrived, balling up any last hope that she was alive, that he decided to shut the door on her disappearance once and for all – by chasing the information she'd last shared with him.

Salazar Slytherin's Scriptorium.

It hadn't been an immediate decision. Once he told Sebastian of the Scriptorium, and his aunt's futile quest to find it, Sebastian hounded him for weeks, desperate to seek it himself. Ominis shut down his questions, even though, secretly, he wanted answers himself.

Missy managed to convince him – if only because she reinforced how important it was for Sebastian to find a cure for Anne, something that was possible with the secrets of the Scriptorium. And, well, to sate his own curiosity Ominis wouldn't be moved, but for Anne, whom he loved as much as Sebastian did, he agreed to make an effort. He would put aside his distaste for the Dark Arts for closure.

"Don't mistake my agreeing to go as thinking this is a good idea. I'm only going to ensure you don't get into some sort of trouble."

Missy's voice turned upwards with agreement. "You've made the right decision."

On the other hand, his was rueful. "I hope we don't regret this."

They waited until nightfall. It should've been no trouble to get there for the three of them, since the Scriptorium's entrance was next to their common room – but come the clock chimes at midnight Missy was nowhere to be found. Sebastian paced in wait as Ominis pressed a heel to the wall where the secret door lay, trying to sense any vibrations beneath. Boot steps heading towards them snagged his attention.

But there were two pairs. The first, Missy's forceful strides. The second—

You.

Instantly he recognised it. The bounce of your curls. The clatter of your glasses. The shoes, merrily clacking against stone. The scent of you, so sweet and innocuous, and yet like pure ecstasy.

You startled at the same time he did, standing upright.

"Gibby—"

"Ominis—" Hearing you speak his name after so long, in a tone that wasn't revulsion, was like music. But the shock was gone when you turned to Missy, aggravated. "I-I didn't know he was coming."

"Yes," said Missy coolly, "this information comes from his family."

"And therefore it is my quest," he reiterated. "You cannot invite whomever you want."

"I thought the more people, the better." So composed and unperturbed. "Why? Will this be a problem?"

"Yes. She cannot go."

"And why not?" you challenged indignantly.

So damn naïve. "It's dangerous."

"When has that ever stopped me?"

"There's a first time for everything."

"You can put your wounded ego away, Ominis. There's no way I'm not going exploring with you all."

He swore steam erupted from his nose, but it took Sebastian, of all people, to step in and play middle man. "We'll all go— and no, Ominis, unless you're planning to hex her, I don't think you can stop her."

"Don't tempt me." He grinded his teeth. "If you get hurt—"

"You wouldn't care," you said coldly.

And you were right. He shouldn't have cared. He'd severed your bond almost a year ago now. But there was something in him helplessly clutched in your grasp. Something that wouldn't let him let you go.

"If we're ready," said Missy, elongating her words in a poor attempt to smooth the tension, "then you can tell us the first step into the Scriptorium, Ominis."

Lighting the braziers was the easy part. Other students had done it, lit the things to light their way through the dungeons and accidentally unveiled the door. But no one had got further. A dead end, it was declared.

Instantly, he knew why.

Whispers seeped through the chamber walls. As the others explored, and Missy repaired a broken relief, Ominis wished he could clap his hands over his ears. There was something terribly wrong with this place. Something dark.

"Wait— a journal entry! Under the broken pieces!" Sebastian snatched a crusty parchment from the ground. "Ominis— it's signed from your aunt."

"What?" He couldn't believe it. Then had she... succeeded? "What does it say?"

Sebastian read. "Wow... she tried to convince your father she'd found the Scriptorium. She came down to get proof."

Noctua was here. And, perhaps worse, his father knew. His father knew and never said a word.

Tears came unwilling to his eyes, and he fought to bat them back, but it was like the susurrations heard his pain, strengthening their efforts to unsettle him.

"What's wrong, Ominis?"

Your voice was a balm, even though Ominis hated himself for it. His throat ran dry.

"I— I can hear hissing."

"Hissing?" asked Missy.

"I'm a Parselmouth," he explained, and for some reason, admitting it in front of you filled him with more shame. "I can hear and speak to snakes."

"Wow, that's incredible."

The awe in Missy's voice disconcerted him. "All descendants of Salazar Slytherin have the ability."

"So what's it saying?"

Ominis swallowed and focused on the sound. It pulled such a deep fear from him, to use this ability he hadn't in so long. The worst of it was, it was like he'd last spoken it yesterday. Like he'd never stopped at all. He'd sworn a year ago to lock away all the darkness of his family bloodline and throw away the key, and yet here he was, standing in his predecessor's lair, the translation effortless.

For Aunt Noctua, he tried to convince himself. But it was much harder to pretend the ends justified the means.

"Speak to me," he murmured.

"The relief depicts a person facing a snake," said Sebastian. "And this door... well, it's covered in snake motifs."

Ominis felt it, if only to fuel the hope that his friend was wrong. Of course he wasn't.

His heartbeat was a wild stag in his chest. "But I— I can't. I haven't spoken it in years."

"I think you know it's not the sort of language you forget."

No. It wasn't.

Letting himself embrace this horrid part of his heritage terrified him. It was like being back in the cellar again, that Muggle writhing beneath him in pain, his parents and brother lauding his name. Gaunt. No matter what he did to unbind himself from the bloodline, always it came back to shackle him. Always, it answered when he didn't call.

Everything in this place was overwhelming. His father's deliberate silence, the darkness that fettered him when he thought he was free... He didn't realise he was shaking until a hand came to steady him. You. Because of course you knew about his aunt, and how fond of her he was. You knew how much this meant to him, even if you didn't know the horrible things he'd done to get here.

He hesitated pulling his arm away – a foolish mistake. Your touch lingered like your soap.

"Take your time," you said softly.

He tried to gather some lost mettle. For my aunt, he told himself, again and again, until the whispers didn't seem so scary. It was difficult to centre himself when three people were waiting on him, but knowing that behind this door were the answers for his aunt's disappearance, and potentially the answers for Anne's illness, lit the spark of courage he needed. All that was left was to speak.

So he took a deep breath. Forced it out again.

And he spoke.

The tongue was guttering and unnatural. Rusty. Yet the door recognised its own flesh, and as the snakes undulated along the door's surface, and it opened with a cold draught of wind, Ominis knew he'd never escape his family legacy. No matter how much he wished it.

The others cast Lumos and set about exploring the space. Even so many years here and there was still some wonder in discovering the new, the unwritten. Salazar Slytherin did not make it easy to enter his Scriptorium, as the enclosed stone hallways, suffused with the cold, were riddled with puzzles, most of them involving the use of sight. Missy managed to solve the first, a memory test that required her to twist dials to match symbols on the gates.

She clicked the first one. Something sharped sliced the air besides him, and Ominis flinched.

"What the—"

"The gate came down," Sebastian said, terrified but also in awe – a worrying amount. "Between the archway."

"So there's no way back."

You huffed a breath. "So there's only forwards."

Regardless of your optimism, that was not a comforting thought, and the group stayed closer together, firing Lighting charms into the darkness. Dust swirled beneath Ominis' nose, and yet the place had a damp, mildewed feel, unpleasant and uncomfortable, but as the others continued to solve Slytherin's riddles, a rising worry eschewed his fear. This was too easy. His ancestor, he hated to admit, was one of the greatest wizards of all time, and too clever to find entertainment in shallow puzzles. There had to be something worse.

"I don't like this," he murmured into the humming din at one point, as Sebastian and Missy searched for the next symbols.

He didn't mean to talk to you, but he had.

"We'll be okay," you said, even though you moved a little closer to him, closer than he'd expected. "Salazar Slytherin is your direct ancestor?"

He swallowed. "Yes."

A pause.

"He hated Muggle-borns, too."

On anyone else's tongue, the words were a jab. On you, they were only full of pity.

I don't hate Muggle-borns. I don't hate you.

But he couldn't bring himself to say it, and the silence that followed devoured him.

"I think this is the last one," said Missy, when they entered yet another identical stone corridor, the echo of her voice a small comfort in the confined space.

Sebastian had already turned this into a game. "Race you?"

She let out a single chuckle. "You couldn't keep up."

"Try me."

You laughed along to their competitive scrabbling. When the air rippled, and stone quaked, revealing a corridor that seemed to lead nowhere, you patted your cheeks twice and marched forwards on Sebastian's heels.

But Slytherin enjoyed games too.

The gate almost sliced Ominis' nose when it descended in front of him, cutting him off from you and Sebastian. A mere breath separated you, and yet the gap felt infinite.

Behind him, Missy spluttered. "Damn it!"

That meant— he was trapped.

Powerless.

He grabbed the gate, unyielding beneath his fingers. "Sebastian, what's going on?"

"I—" Sebastian startled. "Oh no."

He heard your intake of breath then.

"What's going on?" Ominis demanded.

"Bones," you said quietly. "And a note. I-It's from your aunt..."

She died here. You read it aloud, confirming Ominis' worst fears. Grief tore through him, swelling behind his eyes.

"This is the last puzzle," Sebastian said, voice firm. "There's a door, but it's sealed. It says Crucio on the floor..."

"No!" Ominis rattled the gate. "No, you can't. This is madness, Sebastian! Please—"

"Please what?" Sebastian said, frustrated. "The Scriptorium wants a price for entry. This is what we must pay."

But you didn't know any Dark Magic.

Sebastian did.

The realisation chilled Ominis down to his heart.

"Don't you dare!" he screeched. "Don't you dare use that curse on her!"

You stammered. "Ominis—"

"We're stuck!" Sebastian barked. "Your aunt died because she came alone. She didn't have anyone to use Dark Magic on. So unless you want to die like her, we don't have a choice."

"We always have a choice!"

Even though he didn't know what that was, even though it was Slytherin's nature to demand obedience or death. None of that mattered. What did was that you were the last person who deserved such pain, when you'd already been through so much. When he'd already caused it.

He tried with all his might to break the gate, bend it, cast the Exploding charm, whatever it would take to get him in the chamber.

"It won't work," Missy said, softer than he thought capable.

"I have to try—"

"It's okay," you mumbled, cutting him off. "I-I can take it."

The tremble betrayed your fear. Sebastian offered a compromise, that he could teach you and you'd use it on him, but even if you wanted to learn the curse yourself, which you didn't, there was no way you'd ever find the intention to use it willingly, and to use it willingly on Sebastian, no less, who'd done you no wrong since you'd known him.

Ominis banged his hands against the gate. "Damn it, Gibby—"

"I said I can do it," you snapped. "I'll be fine."

"I told you it was dangerous!"

"I knew the risks."

"Did you?" he challenged. "You came down to explore!"

"I'm not naïve, Ominis!" You came closer. "Of course the Scriptorium of Salazar Slytherin wouldn't be easy to get into. Of course I knew there was a price!"

But for you, and only you, to pay it? Was it by fate, that you walked in second, or was this what Slytherin wanted all along? For Muggle-born blood to pave the way for the rest of wizardkind?

His hands shook as he clutched the gate, so tightly his veins bulged. Once, you were the most naïve person he knew, but that day in the Undercroft had changed you as much as it had changed him.

You spun away, back to Sebastian. A deep breath.

"Okay. I'm ready."

"Are you sure?"

Presumably you nodded, because you didn't say the words.

And Ominis was helpless to listen as Sebastian raised his wand.

"Crucio!"

Your pain seemed to last for hours. For a second, a wink in time, you were silent, only that fizzing noise, that horrid, burning stench of the curse any indication anything was happening at all. But then you cried out, you wept,  you mewled, howled – then it was pure agony, screams that arced through Ominis in ways he would never forget.

Something shifted. It was a softer noise than your screams, like mud, or honey almost, sinking into the ground. As the blockage melted, Sebastian ceased the spell, but your pain did not end, and when the gate shot back up, Ominis stumbled over himself to get to you.

"Gibby," he fell to your side, cradled you, ran hands over your shoulders and face, breathless. "You— I— are you—"

Your ragged breaths calmed. Your quivering eased. Tears ran down his own, probably splattering onto you, but you said nothing, only remained still in his grasp as he held you, comforted you.

Something warm drew up his temple then, and it took a second to recognise it. Your hand. Your thumb, combing back an errant lock of hair, skimming the mole on his temple.

"So you do care," you croaked.

He didn't know how to respond.

"I-I'm sorry," he said instead, failure washing through him. "I... I should've—"

"Don't," you whispered. "Not here. Not yet."

So he didn't. Instead, he wordlessly helped you to stand. Sebastian and Missy asked after you, and their awkwardness brought a new flush to Ominis' cheeks, but when you gave a shaky thumbs-up and an audible smile that warmed even this terrible place, the four of you headed into Slytherin's Scriptorium impeded no longer.

Sebastian and Missy got to work searching each nook and cranny of the cavernous chamber of stone walls, busy with the scattered remnants of Slytherin's work: parchment, scrolls, ancient tomes on shelves that seemed to hum with magic too ancient to describe. Ominis held onto you for the entire time, emotionally spent. You clutched his arm in return, and he felt the tremble of your grip, the vestiges of the curse. He should've helped to search the place, really, but he didn't trust that Slytherin, the most famous pure-blood supremacist in the history of Hogwarts, wouldn't have any last surprises for you.

Missy eventually found Slytherin's spellbook, and the exit, which chucked the four of you back out into the dungeons. You huddled behind the columns until you were sure there were no teachers or prefects, and only then did Ominis allow himself a moment to press his head to the stone, process everything he'd heard, felt.

His aunt was dead, bones lying cold in that corridor.

Sebastian had used Dark Magic like it was second nature.

You had been hurt. And you were owed an explanation.

But so close to the common room entrance was risking too much. If not Peregrine Malfoy, then another pure-blood, a painting, a ghost, a teacher bribed. Someone else, trading with secrets that could ultimately slither its way back to his family.

"Ominis," Sebastian sounded genuinely contrite, "about your aunt—"

"Oh please, Sebastian," he snapped, the anger sudden but healthy. He swung on his friend, teeth bared. "We were lucky we escaped at all."

"But I'm grateful that we did, because maybe now Anne—"

"And if you'd have died in there? How could you have saved Anne then?"

You startled. "Wait, let's—"

"Swear to me." He didn't bend under the weight of your gaze. "Swear to me, right now, that we will never engage with Dark Magic ever again. That— that we will never cause that pain again."

Sebastian was speechless. "But—"

"Swear it, Sebastian!"

"All right, all right." He took a breath. "Understood. And I... I really am sorry about your aunt."

Admittedly that closure was nice, to know Noctua was gone. He didn't voice anything, his feelings too raw and churning, and Sebastian headed towards the common room, Missy in tow.

"We'll go. You two... have a lot to talk about."

When the common room door slid shut, and it was only the two of you, alone, a new sort of worry seeded in his stomach. You said nothing for a while, the last moments that had passed between you as palpable as stone.

"I— I'm sorry," he forced out, this apology much harder than the last. "The Cruciatus Curse—"

"I'm okay," you repeated. A shuffle of your boot. "Are... are you going to talk to me again now? Are you going to tell me why you turned on me?"

But he found the words impossible and unmoving. He needed time, space, to heal from today, before he was ready to open another old wound.

"I-I can't. Not yet."

You paused. It was long and hard to bear, like a rake drawing down his chest.

"All right," you said quietly. "When you're ready, find me. You know where."

He did know where. Back in the early months of first year, when you were green and hungry, there were times when you weren't tagging in Ominis and Sebastian's shadows, times when they didn't know where you were at all. Once he decided, on whim, to search. The castle was huge and he wasn't optimistic, but he checked your favourite places: the Hufflepuff common room, the library, the front lawns and the sitting area outside Charms. When you weren't there and no one had seen you, he concluded he was just missing you, and hurried towards the Great Hall before his absence at dinner was noticed.

That's when he heard you, far above.

The hallways of the Viaduct Entrance were quiet – everyone was at the feast – and even still, your voice was barely a whisper. He halted, pausing to make sure, and there again was your sound, high-pitched and squealy and very you. Brow furrowing, he followed the noise up the stairs until he found himself squirrelled between the wooden joists holding the ceiling.

Whilst Ominis and Sebastian had claimed the Undercroft as their own, this was your space. He didn't know when you'd discovered it, or how, but here you were, curled beneath the beams.

Crying.

It surprised him. You, crying? When you were always so upbeat? When everything seemed to make you laugh? He approached you like you were a unicorn, easily spooked by noise. Still, you noticed him anyway.

"Oh! Ominis! I— I didn't see you there."

"That makes two of us."

But you didn't laugh, which meant something was very wrong.

He swallowed his pride. He'd never dealt with someone crying before, least of all a crying girl. "What's the matter?"

"You're going to think I'm silly."

"I already think that."

Another heaving breath. Another jab that didn't land. "Then— I don't know. You might laugh."

"Why would I—?" He stopped himself. That wasn't what you needed to hear. Instead, he sat next to you. "I won't laugh. Promise."

"Okay." You shuffled a little closer. "I-I miss home."

Ah. You were homesick. Frankly the concept was foreign to him – he'd never once missed his family. Even then he rejoiced every second he got to spend away from home. Still, it seemed to be eating you up.

"I-I'm not ungrateful," you said quickly. "I'm really happy to be here. And I really like magic. It totally makes sense – one time I exploded my brother's washing basket and we never knew how—"

"Exploded—?" He sighed. Just you things. "Never mind."

"But I miss them. My mama and papa run the confectionary. My brothers are supposed to take over when they're older, but Connor met Matilda Asher at church and everyone reckons they'll marry soon and he'll go into lumbering, and Ellian doesn't like sweets a lot, and he's much better at business and numbers anyway, and who knows how little Tam will grow up— oh no, I'm going to miss him growing up!"

Now you were weeping and hiccoughing. "Slow down. You're getting tears on my robes."

"Sorry. Is that... am I a wally?"

He didn't have the heart to ask what a wally was.

"Everyone gets homesick sometimes."

"You don't."

So you noticed. "I grew up in the magical world. You didn't. If I was suddenly dropped into the Muggle world, I'd be sad too. It's overwhelming to suddenly be in a different place with different people, let alone find out you're actually a witch, but you'll get used to it."

"What if I don't?"

"You will." It wasn't a guess. It was fact. "And your friends will help. Sebastian and Anne, and Adelaide and Evangeline and Arthur too."

"And you?"

"Yes," he said, managing a smile for your sake, "and me."

You took a deep breath, a sign that meant you would be okay.

"Do... do you have a tissue?"

"No."

"A... face-cleaning spell? Dryus Tearus?"

"You can't put -us at the end of words and expect it to be a spell. Just stop crying." It came out as a demand, even though Ominis didn't mean it to. He lifted the hem of his robes and wiped away the tears. "You'll get to go home at Christmas, which is only two months away."

By which point, he knew, you wouldn't feel so homesick anyway.

You squirmed when he drew the robe across your nose again. It was snotty, which made him grunt in disgust, which then made you giggle, and then use the sleeve of your own shirt to wipe the rest away.

"Thank you." You sniffled again. "I must look terrible."

"Awful."

A sharp pause – then another laugh, this one more like your usual self. "You are funny, Ominis Gaunt."

Funny was, perhaps, the last word he would ever ascribe to himself. It was, however, the perfect word to assign to his feelings a few days after the Scriptorium debacle, when he was finally ready to share the truth.

He didn't find you under the joists in the Viaduct Entrance's ceiling. Instead, where you were sitting that first time he caught you in first year, and where you sat in the subsequent times since, he found a note. Cleverly it was in braille, and he suspected there was no written words. He drew his thumb across the print.

Below astronomy deck, 8pm.

You had been waiting there, every day like clockwork. Waiting for him.

Ominis climbed the winding stairs. He didn't come up here often – without his sight, he couldn't read the stars, though he did still partake in stargazing theory and discussion. The floorboards croaked. So high up, the wind teased the tips of his ears, and he fussed with warming them until the deck was before him.

He thought he was alone, that he'd missed the chance today.

But you were here, coming up to him steadily. "Are you ready to talk?"

He nodded, voice scarpering deep into his throat. You waited. You weren't going to prompt him or give him any tools to help. You were as hungry for answers as you were before, but you would not make it easy. He would have to work for your trust.

He didn't know how to start.

"I— my family—" How did he tell you about the pain he went through, without diminishing yours? How could he articulate the horrors he'd experienced home, that he'd subsequently thrown back at you? "Some... things happened, when I was at home that summer after third year."

You waited still, not saying a word.

The beginning, then.

"You know my family hates Muggles. Hates Muggle-borns. It's an old pure-blood notion that Muggle-born magic is weaker, that it's stolen. I realised it was wrong when I met you, and regardless of my family's opinions I thought it was okay to be your friend."

"Opinions," you retorted. "You mean prejudice?"

"Yes," he agreed hoarsely, realising his error too late. "Yes, prejudice."

Silence again, as you waited for him to continue. He didn't know you could be so blunt.

"Peregrine Malfoy found out in third year we were friends. He— he told his father. Who told mine." Now his heart raced, his pulse thrashed, a cold clamminess prickled up and down his skin in disgust, shame, fear. "M-My parents, my brother Marvolo, they... they were displeased—"

Your hand found his arm then to steady him then.

"You don't have to continue."

"You deserve to know—"

"It's okay. I... I already know."

"You— what?"

"I've known since the Scriptorium."

"How?" he demanded, then seethed. "Damn Sebastian—"

"Not Sebastian," you mumbled.

Anne.

"It wasn't her place to tell either."

"No," you agreed, "but I wrote her a letter and she told me anyway, since you were being a dummy."

"But you know why, then," he reiterated, clutching your shoulders, hoping, begging to make you see. "You know why—"

"I know I lost my best friend," you said, angry tears snuffing your voice. "I know you suffered. I know your family are the vilest, most evil people on earth. I know that nosy Malfoy should mind his own business. Sebastian said he talked to him. He won't say a word about you now."

What the hell did Sebastian do? "It's too risky."

"I'd rather live in risk with you then not have you at all."

"You don't understand. My family will stop at nothing to protect the sanctity of the bloodline. If they are capable of hurting me, they will hurt you. Maybe— maybe worse. They might've tried something already if you weren't protected here, at Hogwarts."

"I'm not afraid of them."

"You should be. They can do so much worse than... than the slur I called you, Gibby."

"Mudblood. I know."

"Don't say—"

"Why? That word means nothing to me – it only meant something when it was coming from you."

He didn't know how to respond, speechless.

"Your family can continue to live their lives in hatred, but I won't ruin mine for their sake. If I have to keep my friendship with you a secret to keep you safe, fine." Your voice was fierce, incredible, beautiful. "But I am not losing you, Ominis Gaunt. Not again."

You knocked the breath from him then. Those were words he would never forget; you planted yourself deeper into his heart, where your flowers bloomed even in the shadows of his past.

You were his family, too.

It had taken him a long time to realise you always had been.

[PREV][NEXT] [Divider credits]

[deadbydangit]

Recently got into Dbd x Reader fics and loving all of the ones you have made so far!

An idea I had is The Unknown attacking the S/O of one of the killers as they are heading to meet up with them (Huntress, Deathslinger, Trickster) and how the Killer would go about saving/protecting S/O from The Unknown.

Thanks for doing what you do!

I believe I can do that. I might switch it up to just their significant other getting attacked. Please enjoy.

Protecting the Reader: Huntress, Deathslinger, Trickster

Huntress

It would take an absolute idiot to hurt Anna.

It would take an absolute moron to hurt someone on a cares about.

She's already lost someone important in her life.

And she couldn't do anything about it.

But now she can.

And she will.

They won't even get a warning.

They hurt you?

Hatchet to the face.

Was it an accident?

Hatchet to the face.

It does not matter.

Anna can get a little too protective at times.

She's always super worried about you.

So much so that it might be hard to make other friends outside of her.

You might need to get her to tone it down a bit.

You just have to understand that she's not willing to lose another important person in her life.

Another thing she'll do is throw herself in the way of harm.

Just so you don't get hurt.

She knows she's tough and can handle it.

Although, she's not invincible and you'll have to remind her of that.

Sometimes, it's minor dumb things.

Like standing in the way of a snowball or something little.

It can be ridiculous at times. Just know it's her way of showing her love.

Deathslinger

Caleb is a little more reasonable.

On one hand, he'll protect you.

On the other hand, he doesn't want you to become too dependent on him.

If you're in danger, he'll come to help you.

But he will stand back and see if you can handle it on your own first.

That's not to say he'll let you get hurt.

He just doesn't want you to become lazy and depend on him too much.

He'll probably teach you how to shoot a gun.

Something he's made especially for you to defend yourself in case of an emergency.

Though it is something smaller and simpler than the Redeemer.

He'll put you through lessons before he lets you even touch it.

You'll have to learn all the parts and how to put it together before your even allowed to shoot anything.

And, being able to defend yourself is good for your confidence.

He couldn't handle a scaredy cat significant other.

If it's something that you can't handle, or you've tried your best and are still In harm's way, you best believe he'll be right there protecting you.

He'll beat the perpetrator to a bloody pulp, and then some.

He'll keep going until you stop him, and you'll have to stop him.

He's trying to make an example out of this person.

"Anyone messes with you, they mess with me."

He's not always the best at showing affection, this is just his way of showing he cares about you.

Trickster

Ji-Woon has more of a hands-off approach.

He's probably going to leave you on your own.

He really isn't much of a fighter aside from throwing knives and swinging a bat around.

If he entered the fray, it would only make things worse.

And it might damage is beautiful face.

He can't have that!

However, he'll leave you with a small supply of knives in case of an emergency.

He isn't the best teacher, and throwing knives can be very difficult.

Instead, he'll show you how to stab people with them just in your hand and all the vital places that would help you defeat your opponent faster and easier.

Now if somebody insults you or is mean to you?

"Bitch, I know you didn't just say what I think you said?"

If you think the person verbally attacking you can talk smack, he can double it.

Easily.

He's amazing at picking out every little flaw that a person has.

And exploiting it.

Drastically.

He's actually trying to make the other person cry.

And he has.

He thrives on that type of stuff.

"Don't worry. As long as I'm around, no one will dare insult you my pretty little s/o."

[jaebeomsbitch]

Not Just A Boy (R.R.)

Summary: You've been dating Roman Roy for a while now when one day he decides he's ready to try. Maybe he's mad about something or one of his siblings said something but tonight is the night he's having sex.

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, humiliation kink, degradation, verbal abuse, and Roman feeling guilty/self harm after. Female reader

A/N: I've had this in my notes for weeks. I have so many half written fics right now. Also I don't think you can write smut about Roman without addressing his intimacy issues which is why I included him feeling disgusted after but he's always comforted.

“Woah easy there tiger,” you say, holding Roman’s shoulders from approaching you any closer. His face a couple inches from yours.

“What? Just trying to fuck my girlfriend, isn’t that what you've always wanted?” He says, a certain harshness to his tone but his face looks like he’s joking. 

“A-are you okay? Did something happen?” You ask concerned. He was out of it clearly, I mean he would’ve said if he was ready to try. His brother must’ve said something to him again 

“Oh suddenly I want to fuck and I have a problem? ,” he rolls his eyes. 

“Roman… you never want to. Not that I’m complaining just- what brought this on?” You ask, confused.

“I want to fuck the shit out of you, what’s the fucking problem?” He’s growing more and more annoyed you won’t even let him try. Roman can be very...aggressive when he wants something.

“If that’s what you want…” you feel weary. Knowing he’s probably in an emotionally precarious state. 

“I wanna fuck my girlfriend is that so hard to ask?” He throws his arms out in frustration but he’s got pending nerves stewing away in his gut. Maybe he wanted you to say no but he knew that you never denied him anything. You always gave into his stupid requests even at your own expense.

“Okay, turn off the lights then,” You sigh, knowing he won’t be able to do anything if he sees a shred of his skin. You knew he’d probably wouldn’t go far and he’d get mad at himself but you were willing to try. 

He leans over, turning off the lamp. His grip harsh on your hips as he pulls your shorts to your knees. 

“Calm down,” You try to say but he ignores, his heated hips pressing to yours quickly. Like he doesn’t want you to see. As if you’ll be able to see in a pitch black room but there’s no arguing with Roman. He gets what he wants, he always has. Being the son of a billionaire certainly afforded him that luxury. 

“Just- just let me,” He says breathlessly trying to do it himself but you know he’s near a breaking point. You decide to take charge, you flip him over onto his back. 

“I told you to calm down, can’t you listen?” You say annoyed with his pressing. 

“What the fuck?” He says, his voice coming out with a certain lilt. You keep your eye contact with him, knowing he doesn’t like anyone looking down at his cock. You grab it, watching as his eyes widen at your touch. He’s only ever been used to the pressure of his own hands so this is a big change. 

“Spit,” You command him, holding your hand to his mouth. He just looks at you, his brain foggy as he’s trying to keep up with this change in dynamic. 

“W-what?” His eyebrows pinch

“You want to be disgusting, let’s be fucking disgusting or would you prefer me to take over? Can’t use your cock, gotta have your girlfriend do it for you” you taunt, already upset that he thinks he can do whatever he wants. You've spent countless nights with Roman's insistent hips pressed to your leg, his hands bruising the skin he grabs onto. Enough was enough.

“Okay if you want to stop, I'm stopping” You start pulling away from him but his hands grip onto your forearm. He can’t say it, the embarrassment washing over him as his arousal sets in. He likes seeing you like this, your smart mouth being used to put him in his place. 

“N-no,” He finally says. 

“Look a you, can’t even ask for what you want," You taunt, his big doe eyes looking up at you as he bites down on his lower lip to keep himself from whining. A mewl leaves the back of his throat, his eyes big and desperate.

"You say all those disgusting things to me, send me photos of your dick multiple times a day, and I have to fuck you myself? You’re useless Roman, just a little fucking toy for me aren’t you? That’s what you want?” You sneer, face an inch from his. God he looks so cute like this.

He nods, “Y-yes, m’disgusting,” he says breathlessly. You tease his cock, tapping it at your entrance. 

“Yeah, you’re pathetic. You’re nothing but a filthy little piece of shit,” You say, watching his face. He’s lost in your words, his mind foggy at the way you grip his thigh harshly. That familiar pain creeping in mixed with you pumping him dryly at his insistence.  A bead of precum spilling out as you move to rub the head of it. He hisses at his sensitivity. You decide to relent, giving him just a moment of sweetness that he doesn’t deserve. You lean down, hot spit spilling onto his cock. You pump faster with the new lubrication, small moans spilling from his mouth. 

His chest reddens, Roman could be vocal during phone sex sure but it was always breathless sighs. This was different, the reverberation of his whines pressing into his chest making him feel like a gong. His head pounding with the noise. He tries not to think about it, about this. About how you’ve crossed this line for the first time as more insults spill through your mouth. 

“Never gonna be good enough to be anything but my fuckdoll,” You say, looking at the faint outline of your hand working at the skin. The mixture of spit and precum shining under the moonlit night. He feels that familiar heat in his belly, his stomach twitching as his voice climbs. You pump him faster, the skin between your thumb and index finger running up the vein. His breath is ragged as he shudders.

“Shi-it, yeah.. nothing but your fuck toy,” He whines, his head thrashing on the pillow. The heat growing and growing as he loses himself in the feeling. Just as you feel his hips start to twitch you let go. He whimpers at the loss almost crying as he begs for you to touch him again. 

“Please— please don’t stop,” He mewls, hands coming to grip your forearm again. 

“You take what I fucking give,” You say, your lip curled in disgust as you shake his hands off. 

You let him stew in the loss of his orgasm, his dick is painfully hard and spasming as you remove your shorts. You slide his sleep pants off, moving in between his legs so his thighs crowd your knees. Your hands latch onto the meat of his thighs as you hook the back of his knees to your hips. You grab his cock tapping it against your entrance again. 

“F-fuck, m’ple—“ He chokes, not getting the full word out. 

“Yeah?” You try to make out his face in the darkness, the sound of his head nodding against the pillow mixed with his pants not enough. 

“Y-yeah,” He agrees, his voice smaller than normal. 

“I’ll stop Rome, I’m serious,” You say a little more sternly. 

“Just… fuckin’ put it in already,” He says, embarrassed but whiny at the idea. You give him a second to back down as you line up your hips with the tip of his cock. 

“Please,” Finally slips through his gasping lips. The tension in the room crackling as you slowly push into him. Your walls stretching as he slides into you. His hands grip onto the sheets, head thrashing at the sensation. This was much newer and tighter than his soft fist. 

“Look at you, so pathetic,” You say choking on your spit. It’s been too long since you’ve felt this, you’d sacrificed your pleasure for your relationship with Roman. One that you were semi-happy with, especially now that he’s moaning under you. 

You drag your hips, “Nothing more than a dildo to me,” You say as your hips slap against his ass.  

“Ye- yes,” He nods his head, his eyes scrunched closed. You start moving faster against him, the sound of skin slapping filling Roman’s apartment for the first time. You pound into him using him like the most expensive dildo in the world. His mouth hangs open, broken sounds leaving his pink lips. 

“So fucking eager for me, no one can fuck you like this, huh? So pathetic look at you moaning under me like a fucking slut,” You breathe as you lean over, your hand next to his head as you use him. You move your hips until you feel him hit that familiar part of you, a grunt leaving your lips. 

“Fuck’ disgusting, imagine your dad seeing this. Watching you get fucked, he’d be fucking revolted by you,” You say. 

“If only he knew his youngest son likes being treated like a common whore, just a pathetic little fuck toy,” Your voice lowering at the exertion of your movements. 

“Thank you thank you,” He mumbles, small droplets of tears in his eyes threaten to spill at his overwhelming pleasure. His moans growing louder and louder, that familiar heat building in his stomach again. 

“Please- please don’t stop,” He pleads, a moan hitching at the back of his throat as your hips buck wildly against his ass. The heels of his feet pressing into you to pull you closer. You chase your own release, the familiar fluter of your walls clamping onto him as you grow closer and closer. Grunts spilling from your lips faster, the thought of insulting him flown out the window. 

“So fucking perfect,” You gasp, leaning the rest of the way down to suck on whatever exposed skin you can find trying to quiet yourself. Your teeth grazing at the tendon on his neck, tongue gliding against the prominent vein as he clenches his jaw. His hips twitch, chasing his own release. His mind hazy at the feeling of you pressed all over him. He tries to will himself to focus on your words but when your teeth bite down a little harder he feels his eyes roll back. The threatening of his skin breaking at your mercy bringing him closer and closer to the edge until he’s careening over it. He whines and gasps, his face twisting in pleasure, mouth hung open. He sounds more like a rabid animal as broken sounds leave his lips. 

“Fuuuck” You gasp as you pummel his abused skin. His ass red with your repeated force and his cock already sensitive but his cum provides an easier glide as you use him. Tears spill down his cheeks at the overstimulation until you feel yourself free fall over the edge. Your hips bouncing against him as your thighs shake. Your face digging deeper into his neck, your mouth left open as you press it harder against his clenched muscles. 

You catch your breath before you lower his legs, soothing his aching muscles as he shudders. You try to warm him up, he’s probably not used to subspace. You try to pull him close as you finally lie next to him but he pushes your hands off. The disgust setting deep into his skin until it’s almost consuming him. You recognize that look in his eye, as you forcefully pull him toward the shower. You hand him the loofah, letting him rub his skin until its red and then yank it out of his hand. You’d only ever seen him like this a couple times before, when he decided to touch you on those rare occasions. You fear that this will break your relationship. That maybe you went too far with Roman. You turn around as he dries himself, you hand him a bottle of calming lotion. 

“For your skin, you rubbed it pretty raw,” You whisper afraid he’ll somehow runaway at your voice like a street cat. He tries to protest, “Put it on or I’m turning around and doing it myself,” You instruct. Making him feel like a kid again. 

“Okay buffalo bill,” He grumbles, slathering himself in the lotion as you put on your pajamas. He walks ahead of you fully dressed again, silently climbing into the bed, you lie next to him afraid he’ll try and run away but he does the unexpected. His head joins your pillow, his hand around your waist, as he breathe in your scent. For once in his life he stays held together, just slightly tattered and bruised because he's just a boy and you're just a girl. He sighs contently as you hug him back, your touch makes all the voices go away as he dozes off to sleep.

[moollypop]

indigo park theory: what ARE the mascots?

i've had many thoughts on this since chapter 1 came out, so this will be a long one.

TW for animal cruelty and abuse below.

first off. they are NOT animatronics. uniquegeese has explicitly said that himself on streams, and this is added on by the fact that mollie literally gets decapitated and dies, blood spurting out of her disembodied head. lloyd and mollie also just, generally look a lot more like living, breathing creatures than just some mascot suits or robots with their fur, feathers. as well as being able to blink and emote.

so that begs the question: how do these exist, if they aren't just robots and are in fact flesh and blood? well... judging by some of the context clues we've gotten so far, i think i can make a guess:

Indigo Park created the mascots through animal experimentation and genetic remodelling.

first off, the mascots themselves. at least, in the state they appear in. they are far more reminiscent of wild, feral animals than killer animatronics or toys or what-not from most other mascot horror games. lloyd in particular stands out in this.

when we first find him, he's all curled up asleep on the theatre stage. again, another point to these being living breathing things if they require sleep. only to then run off on all fours as soon as he wakes up and notices ed, then proceeds to stalk them within the backstage. keeping to the shadows and retreating when he's spotted or isn't in position to properly attack, again, like a real lion stalking its prey until it's within striking distance.

lloyd DOES walk on two feet properly, though. primarily when he trots away after first being sighted in the backstage, and later after ed grabs the key, lloyd does physically walk around even though it isn't visible to the player and he despawns after they leave the room with the key until it's time to do the jumpscare.

(credit to horrorscoped's "what indigo park hides in rambley's railroad and theater areas" video for the screenshots)

second, and what i think is most important to answering this question: mollie macaw. it's established in her death screen that she can mimic things that she's heard, including voices, which macaws in real life can also do. and while it's hard to hear them during her chase sequence, she has SEVERAL voice lines that play. most of them are taken from the rambley's railroad ride from earlier in the chapter, but there are several others that seem to be taken from employees or guests before the park's closure. i'll link a video to them here, but the lines i'm referring to in particular are:

"Stay in your seat!"

"I wanna play with the birdie!"

"Don't touch that thing, son..."

"Get up, you stupid freak."

"Get back in your cage, bird."

"The customer is always right."

the two i'm focused on mainly are fourth and fifth ones, which are undoubtedly park employees. calling her a freak, telling her to back into HER cage... paints a very, very unpleasant picture of what's going on. one that is confirmed even more by an easter egg in rambley rush, where if you fall into the fourth pit while moving to the left, you can find a second mollie inside a cage.

verbally abused and caged up... like a mistreated animal.

so... why? why create these "mascots" instead of having employees dress up in costumes like other parks? they clearly intended to at one point, as they had at least produced a costume for rambley before the mascots entered the picture... simple, really. money.

if you were a business and wanted to maximize profits with little morals, why not try and turn animals into your company's characters for your theme park so you can avoid paying your employees a little extra for going around in costume? if companies are willing to replace writers and artists with AI, why not put in a little more effort to create something else to do that job for you instead of having to pay someone else to do it?

but, something happened. maybe one of the mascots finally had enough and attacked an employee or guest? who knows... whatever the case, the park was suddenly and quickly evacuated with the events being covered up.

and the mascots were left to rot. with no humans to supervise them and keep the instructions and training and company-mandated rules drilled into them, combined with the isolation and likely mental toll it took... they regressed. they slowly lost what made them "mascots" in all but appearance, and now? they're animals again. wild, feral animals. ones that don't see a random person as a guest to greet, but as a smaller, weaker animal. a prey.

and with so many years having passed, likely not having much in the way of food outside of any other wild animals that might happen to wander into the park... they're likely very hungry.

[pettypuppy-jonghyun]

Night Rides | Skz Reactions

Summary: it's late at night and you and a Skz member go for a ride/OT8 members/gn!reader/ reader can drive (Lee know, Jisung)

Warnings: too fluffy

Notes: my favorite is Jisung's it's so cute🤧 I'm sorry Changbin's and Seungmin's are so short :/

@alyszaen sorry that you drive in this 🤪

CHAN

You both were up late anyhow. He had been playing back the same song on repeat, not quite liking how it sounded. He insisted that being in the living room, as opposed to his studio in your shared apartment, would get his "creative juices" flowing again. However, he still had a major block.

It wasn't often that you attempted to pry him away from his work, knowing he would politely decline in hopes to finish. Tonight, though, he was driving you insane. He wanted to spend quality time together, which in his mind it meant you sitting on the couch opposite of him and listening to the same tune over and over. You finally got tired of pulling your hair out and stood up to grab his keys.

"Come on," you call for him, barely looking over your shoulder before closing the apartment door.

Surprisingly he followed behind you quickly, appearing in the building hallway in just his socks as he rushed after you, shoes in hand. He called after you to slow down so you could at least hold hands in the elevator. After all, he wanted that quality time.

When you entered the elevator, he slung his arm over your shoulders and pulled you close. "Getting sick of me already?" He teased knowingly.

You didn't admit it, because he definitely was slowly making you insane, so you just smiled and shrugged. Instead, you allowed him to believe whatever he wanted. Because now you were able to have peace and quiet in the car ride.

"Where would you like to go?" Chan questions, walking to the passenger side to hold the door open for you.

"Not many places to go at 1am."

"Playground it is!"

You made sure he didn't turn on the radio so you could enjoy the moment more by filling the air with conversation. You both were far too awake for you to sleep anyway, so might as well take in every second while you still could. Before he drags you back to the living room.

He tells you at the end of the car ride that you inspired him again, like always, and he knew exactly what that song was missing.

LEE KNOW

Hope you're willing to drive. He may have been the one to suggest the car ride, a way to get his mind off of things, but he doesnt want to drive.

Actually, Lino is the type to subtly mention it so that you suggest the idea. He can use that against you, saying it was your idea so you have to be the one to drive. He wouldn't be a normal passenger princess per say, but he definitely would demand the benefits.

Minho would kiss up to you first. Come behind you and rub your shoulders, leaving small pecks along the crevice of your neck. He would be more sweet and cuddly than normal. Obviously, you were no fool. You weren't new to these habits of his. But you let him continue, enjoying the affection while you still could.

It wasn't real late when you finally asked if he wanted to go for a car ride. It was too late to go anywhere like a coffee shop, as he initially suggested. But Lee Know always gets his way, regardless of how impossible it may seem.

It turns out there was one coffee shop nearby your place that still was open for at least another hour. He already had your keys and other belongings in hand before you even noticed. Just as he was about to leave, he stops mid way and reached to grab your debit card.

"Don't need this," he claims, tossing it only to couch before taking your hand.

You try not to smirk at the way he casually tossed your money, as if reminding you than he does take care of you too. Although he'd practically have to be tortured to get him verbally admit it. Or you used his cats against him with catnip.

Despite you being the driver, he reaches over and put his hand on your lap. He only removed it when you needed to shift gears and his arm was in the way. Then he immediately places it back, giving your thigh a squeeze. Might even trace patterns on your bare skin if it's showing.

His nicknames are typically the same whenever, but when the night rolls around he feels more passionate than ever. On the short ride to the coffee place, he looks to you with soft eyes filled with love. Minho starts to remember all the specific times you made his heart burst with love for you. If the time calls for it, he might whisper "my love" to you, because that's exactly what you are.

If you tease him for it, he will never ever say it again so please don't ruin it. You can tease him for pretty much anything else in the world, because he's a confident man, but not that. Not when he's being truthful about his feelings.

He might also slip a mumble of you being more important than his cats, but if you don't catch it he won't repeat it. If you do happen to hear it and comment, he'll take it back immediately and rush into the coffee shop, leaving you behind.

Lino will tease you once it comes time to pay for your coffee. If you aren't shy in public, he'll make a comment about you intentionally leaving your card so that he's forced to pay. This would only make you roll your eyes and tell him to "suck it up". If you are shy, he'll make the remark to you quietly at your table so all you can do is glare.

CHANGBIN

Please, this man is a hardcore simp. If you're up, he's up. Don't let his complaints fool you. He'd rather be woken up by you begging for a ride out, giving him puppy eyes, than finding out you went without him.

He might intially give you a hard time about it anyway. Especially if you do end up waking him to go out. He'll be pouty as he changes into some sweatpants but leaves on the pajamma shirt, mumbling about you stealing all of his hoodies so he has nothing to wear.

Don't expect hin to be pouty for long. Once you whisk him out of the house and into the car, he's already wide awake. Changbin would want to hold your hand the entire drive, scolding you if you take it away.

The nights sky makes you breathe deeply, feeling refreshed. "Isn't it beautiful, Binnie?"

He's a cheesy man. He looks to you while agreeing.

You smack his shoulder with a laugh. "What kdrama have you been watching lately that had that moment?"

He shrugs, laughing lightly. "I'm just that cool."

If you want to go to a specific place and he's hesitant, just feel up his arms. And make it dramatic. Squeeze the biceps, fawn over the muscles, compliment the strength. If you go as far as you mention the veins in his arms, he'll do anything for you. That's exactly why you both end up out extremely late in the night.

HYUNJIN

He was the one with the idea. He loves late night activities with you because he feels like it's aesthetically pleasing. In the past, he's made paintings of the skies you've seen together. You have them framed and hanging on your walls because each one has the most romantic stories behind them.

Tonight he dragged you off the couch to go for a card ride. He didn't explain where you were heading, and he didn't answer any questions that you asked. He just had this determined look on his face that you eventually had to accept.

You pulled up to an empty parking lot of a abandoned plaza. There was few lights scattered around but he ensured he parked under one directly. He then rushes to your side to open your door, taking your hand to help you out.

"Why are we here?" You questioned, looking around you to see nothing but pitch black roads and dark skies.

Hyunjin takes his phone out of the car, playing with it a little before removing a small purple box as well. You recognized the box as a miniature speaker you bought him for his most recent birthday. You smiled as he plays a slow melody and moves to reach for your hand.

"May I have this dance?" He questions with a small smirk, right hand already finding its way to your waist, whereas his left hand interlocked with yours. He then begins to step forward, guiding you to take a matching step back before creating a pattern. Hyunjin steps a few times to the side before stretching his arm out, extending you far out from him before spinning you back into his embrace.

Your back now was against his chest, your arms crossed over you as he held you from behind. You turned your head slightly to the side, unable to meet his eyes as he dips down and presses the side of his face to yours. A hum falls from your lips as you let the beautiful music consume you moves and take control of your thoughts. All that you could think of now was Hyunjin and him alone.

"I made this song for you," he mumbles after entangling you from his arms and back to the original position. "For our next adventure."

The enchanting tune made images of your previous nights out flow through your mind. The wonderful pictures he painted was a great reminder of what those times looked like. As you close your eyes to envision it, Hyunjin keeps the pace. The overwhelming feeling of blissful moments with your lover made you sigh heavily.

"Tell me you love me," you command him, opening your eyes to meet his. You needed to hear his voice say it to you again. "I love it when you do."

He smiles beautifully, dipping his head down to connect your lips together. "I love you with my entire heart."

You took a deep breath in and reciprocated the smile. "I love you with my entire heart."

(sorry the main focus was more on where Jinnie took you for car rides)

JISUNG

Jisung locks his keys out of his car. He did it while running to a gas station near your apartment to grab midnight snacks for you two. He lost the spare key months ago, so using that to open the car was no an option. And getting someone to come open it was also out of the question, seeing how late it was. You had no choice but to go pick him up after he sadly calls you on the cellphone.

When you arrived at the gas station, he was standing inside of it, staring out the window for you. He spotted you immediately, a bright smile stretching across his face as he waves dramatically. You watch as he looks towards the opposite direction as if he was speaking to someone before running to your car with hands full of snacks.

"That was Jack! He's working the night shift today. He started two months ago."

You nod, furrowing your eyebrows. "That's...nice?" You watch as he dumps the multiple bags and drinks on the floor of the vehicle. "Babe, did you make friends with the cashier?'

"Yeah!" He laughs. "We started talking because he apologized for not having grocery bags. Then he asked for my signature."

You smile at his excitement. "Oh, does he know Stray Kids?"

He shook his head, still smiling. "Nope! He said I look like a kpop idol, I told him I am so he was like "sign my napkin" so I signed it."

Your eyebrows raised high. "He has literally no idea who you are and you signed his napkin?"

Jisung pops open a bag of chips and happily munches. "He was so nice."

You snorted, shaking your head at your boyfriend as you tried not to laugh. Despite how silly the situation seemed, he was very excited about it so you kept your giggling to your self, biting your lips and looking away to keep it together.

"Chip," he says, lifting it to your mouth. You open it on command, letting him drop it in. He then lifts a juice box up, pointing the straw to your lips. "Juice."

He kept this routine, swapping to some gummy bears occasionally when he felt in the mood for them. After a moment of stuffing his cheeks full, he finally reaches for his phone to play some music. He asks for recommendations but ends up not taking them.

As the song starts to play, you turn your head to see a smirk on his lips. "Narara syung super board," he mouths along.

"Oh, wow. Never heard this song before," you say sarcastically as he giggles, jumping in his seat. You sit up, preparing for the dance Jisung taught you to do when you were driving.

Now it probably wasn't the safest thing to do, taking a hand off the wheel occasionally to mimic the dance. But the roads were dead and the feeling of excitement radiating off of Han was too hard to ignore. When you both yelled "nyaun" at the top of your lungs, you drag your hand mid air from left to right, imitating a car speeding past your sights.

Han let you attempt to rap alongside of him for most of it, but he wanted his parts to be solo. Of course, he was the star of the show anyhow. After the song ended, he actually let you choose a new one. Your apartment was too close to the gas station to play more, so you took a few extra turns around the block to keep the fun going just a little longer.

FELIX

It was rare that your work schedule allowed you to stay up late like you currently were. Felix would come home at odd times, so it wasn't consistent enough for you to wait for him to sleep together. You had the day off tomorrow, though, so you figured staying up a little bit wasn't going to hurt.

Unfortunately, you lost track of time when the two of you started a movie marathon late into the night. Neither one of you seemed to be tired, both obnoxiously laughing at the television. It may have been because all your apartment lights had been on the entire time, making it hard to tell the time correctly. Whatever it was, it made you antsy after the third movie ended, still being wide awake.

"I can't sit still enough for another," you tell your boyfriend as he scrolls through to find another film to play. "I'm too hyper."

He shoots his gaze over to yours dramatically. "Well, pray tell, what my dearest wishes to do?"

You roll your eyes with a shrug. "Something.  Anything but being in here. It's getting stuffy."

Felix taps a finger to his chin in thought. When he suggested a car ride, you jumped up from your spot on the couch, grabbing his hand to drag him too. He laughed at your excitement and attempted to keep up as you raced out the door. A destination was not even discussed.

He allowed you to be the dj of the car, hesitantly handing you the aux cord with a thin smile. He could tell by the grin on your lips that you probably shouldn't be trusted with such a thing. Felix couldn't resist you, though, and knew that keeping you from your happiness was the last thing he ever wanted.

The windows were rolled down as the night was a comfortable temperature. You stuck your head out, resting it atop of the door to glance outside. The city lights were still so beautiful, even when it was so late. The music was humming in the background softly as the two of you sang much louder than it played.

There was giggles in between the singing, forcing your voices to strain much more than they could. Even Felix's deep voice was cracking, which made you erupt in laughter. You both were almost in tears because of it. When a moment passed after you settled down, you looked at each other again and laughed once more.

"When did you start hitting puberty again?"

Felix scoffs. "Give me some credit, babe! I'm an artist and such talent is hard to keep consistent like this. Plus, Elsa hits some high notes."

You slap your hand across your mouth to cover up the eruption of giggles that came out. You had no control over them, though, and they spilled through your fingers and into the quiet car. Felix couldn't help but giggle too, wiping at his eyes.

"Stop! I'm driving. Cut it out."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" you shout. "Please forgive me," you plead sarcastically, awaiting for his next response.

Felix stops at the red light, throwing the car into park before turning to face you. "You have to act cute for the next five minutes or I won't forgive you."

Your mouth dropped open in shock. "Five minutes?!"

He glances at the light out of the corner of his eyes and smirks. "Five minutes," he confirms.

You look down at your hands in panic, trying to remember ever cute thing your boyfriend had ever done for you. But your mind drew a blank and you could only the hand movement you saw on television once. Hesitantly, you created fists with your hands and brought them up to your cheeks, rocking them back and forth.

"Puing puing?" You say, with zero confidence.

Felix thins his lips to keep himself from laughing at your actions. "Nice try, baby love, but that was the worst aegyo I've ever seen."

You huff. "The lights green. Go."

Seungmin

My darling , Seungmin. Can we please go for a late night car ride like this couple here?" You point to your phone as you show him a Pinterest wallpaper.

Seungmin glances away from the video he was watching, moving his focus over to you. "Now?" He questions, his lips curling up in distaste.

You smiled and nod firmly. "Yes, like, right now."

He looks down to his attire, being in his utmost comfortable clothing and already ready for bed. He hated when you took him out of his nightly routine, but he always caved when you asked him to do something. He genuinely enjoyed spending quality time with you, but he'd give you a hard time throughout it all.

"Now?" He asks again, this time frowning.

You huff. "C'mon babe! Let's go for a ride."

He narrowed his eyes at you, still very hesitant, before sighing heavily and listening to your request. He ignored your squeals of happiness and slowly stood up to grab the car keys off the Totoro hanger by the door. He then opens the closet door and grabs his favorite hoodie before leading you both out of the apartment.

"Calm down," he calls out to you, whom was half way down the hallway already. He took his time in following you, lazy steps all the way outside.

The chilly wind caused him to shiver, rubbing at his long sleeved shirt. He scowled at your figure skipping to your car, hand already on the passenger door and ready for him to unlock. As he came closer, he tossed the hoodie your way.

"Why didn't you change before we left?" Seungmin mumbles the question, glaring at your attire meant for bed and now the cold outside. He proceeds to buckle himself up when he sees your only answer was a shrug of your shoulders.

As he begins to pull out of the parking lot of your apartment complex, you begin to fiddle with the radio channels. Upon seeing you do this, he smacks your hand out of the way and points a finger at you.

"My car, my songs. I don't want to hear your music if I'm dragged along for this."

"Well, what do you want to hear?"

Seungmin took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly at a stop light. "Classical."

You made a face, a mix of surprise and disgust, and waited for Seungmin to take it back. When he didn't change his mind, you hesitated on putting the songs on. He noticed this and snorts.

"Ours songs are on my phone. I specifically cut out everyone else's parts, so each song is only me."

You widened your eyes in shock and bite your lip to keep from laughing. "Are you serious?"

He nods confidently. "Very."

Jeongin

Jeongin seems to visit your place often after rehearsals. Although he hadn't officially moved in yet, majority of his belongings were in your home. He often told you it was because he could only tolerate the others so long before he needed peace and quiet. If he came after rehearsals, Jeongin would find you asleep and ready for nighttime cuddles. Perfect for relaxation.

However, when he came home, he was not expecting a fully awake and hyper you. He couldn't complain, though, because this version of his lover was kinda rare. He thought it was too adorable to miss. And lucky for him, he also was a little giddy this evening.

Next thing you knew, the two of you were jamming songs in the car. You took to the country roads in hopes not to disturb the people sleeping soundly in their homes. The idea of them all waking up to you and Jeongin playing one song on repeat was admittedly funny, though.

"Maknae on top! Ooh oh!" You both yelled, jumping in your seats as the bass to the song was boosted, encouraging the hype you felt.

You sang the lyrics to your Innie, waving your hands around his form to gesture to the 'maknae' in reference. He laughed at your actions and continued to bob his head enthusiastically. The third time the song came to an end, he rolled the volume nozzle down completely to catch your attention.

"What if we call Bang Chan to sing to him," he suddenly suggests, peering over to your direction to watch your expression to gauge interest.

You pondered on it for a moment. "I dunno, he might murder us."

Jeongin nods. "Maybe." He watched you sit in wonder still and reaches over to poke your cheek. "Come on, you know he's probably still awake. This will either encourage him to write good songs or make him go to sleep."

You finally agree, reaching for his cellphone as he hands it to you. You pull up Chan's contact before setting it snuggly into the holder attached to the car dashboard. Jeongin corrects his position so he could be seen better on camera as the called started to ring through.

All it took was a greeting from the leader and Jeongin started blaring the song again, singing happily into the phone. He occasionally glanced to you as you also want along, hearts absolutely filling his eyes as he watches.

After the song ends, Chan stares into the camera with a grimace. Jeongin proudly explains his reasoning behind disturbing Chan, whom was in fact not asleep, and in return gets a light scolding on why you and Jeongin should both be enjoying each other's company without involving someone else. He finally hung up after the lecture.

"That's going to make a perfect video for my memories," you say happily, removing the phone from the holster.

Jeongin peers over at you. "What did you do?"

"Only recorded the entire call." A devious smirk appeared as you send the recording to yourself and the other members of stray kids.

Your boyfriend reaches his hand to give you a high five.

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Bringing up some angst because I crave violence:

How would the SDV and SVE marriagables react to their kid/kids having the gift of magic, but then they learn that their children might get taken away by the ministry of magic to study under a mage in a different town?

Hello 👋 Glad to see you here again ☺️ I hope you don't mind if I only do SDV and SVE bachelors here 💕

SDV and SVE bachelors react to the news that the Ministry of Magic may take baby away from them and Farmer:

"Sam, our kid has magic." "That's awesome!" "Also, our kid can be taken away by wizards from the Ministry of Magic without our permission, to be put in the hands of a stranger for magic training..." ".... Now that's not awesome at all." Sam is completely confused and doesn't know what to do. Naturally, he doesn't want to give his own child to just anyone and to an unknown place. So he will consult with the Farmer on what to do. His first suggestion will be to make a lot of traps in house for uninvited guests, as in the "Home Alone" film. If their arrival is not avoided, the musician will not give up the baby without a fight!

"If they think they can just walk into our house and take our kids, they're very fucking wrong," Shane will not put up with the idea of some strangers coming in and dictating terms to him and his family. He will be willing to physically attack them in order to protect the people he holds dear, and will also become a little paranoid about the safety of Farmer and the little ones. Not under his watch, no way.

"What?! It's... That's... How dare they?! What right do some, pardon my profanity, imbecile have to come into our house and take our child?! Outrageous! Oh, I'm going to go over there and tell them what I think of them..... Well, where are they exactly?" Elliott may go so far as to go to Rasmodius' tower and ask him to connect him with this obscure Ministry so that the writer can vent his tirade on these upstarts. Alas, it is unlikely that a verbal altercation and bare fists will somehow cope with powerful magic, but Elliott is ready to fight to the last for his and Farmer's child.

Harvey could hardly keep calm, but Farmer sees the rage boiling inside their spouse, which is quite justified, for they too do not want to obey the stupid rules of the Ministry of Magic. Instead of aggression and emotion, the local doctor will use cold logic. In fact, the Ministry's actions can be seen as kidnapping, a violation of human rights. Farmer already famous person outside the Stardew Valley, and Harvey is not the last doctor, so if the case is made public, non-magical people will become a big problem for the magical organisation.

The news of the magical talent and the Ministry made Sebastian very worried. It's one thing to simply be offered a choice and quite another to be almost forcibly taken away from your family. Sebby wouldn't let that happen. Even though he doesn't know much about adventurers and the concept of magic yet, he believes that he and Farmer together can handle the trouble and protect their child from toxic people from some stupid Ministry.

Alex has a similar situation with Shane, except the athlete is now even more fixated on the child's safety. He knows Farmer will always be able to protect themself, but what about their baby? He's going to start being with his baby and Farmer almost 24/7. Farmer will have to calm down the worried young dad and together solve the problem, for Alex, who is guarding the crib for the fourth night without a proper sleep, already realizes himself how this stress is taking a heavy toll on his health.

Magnus knows how the system works in the magical world and realizes that sometimes the rules of the Ministry of Magic sometimes are... questionable, but he doesn't worry about this much. He is an official wizard and it makes no sense to give another wizard their gifted baby. If someone at the top does want to give the baby to another person, Magnus has enough connections (and Camilla as a bargaining chip), to give the Ministry hell on earth. But this is as a last resort, he hopes the Ministry will make the right choice.

Yoba... Victor had once read about the Ministry of Magic and the rather strange rules and code of wizards/witches/mages, but taking a child away from their family? That's not right. The poor man is utterly confused and doesn't know who to turn to for advice. All he can do is hope they can enlighten the Ministry members when they come to their farm. Or protect the child. He may not be as brave as his love, but a parent, when they feel threatened towards their child, is capable of many things in a rage.

"Don't worry, my love. No one will take our little one because the mage who will train them is standing right in front of you." Lance himself was given to his Dragonmaster for training, but it was his meaningful choice at the time, and his parents were okay with it too. And Lance realises that it didn't go as smoothly for other families. However, he, like Magnus, is officially a mage on par with his position as an adventurer, so it doesn't make sense to give the child to someone else. Lance will not give the baby to anyone, he will defend with words (maybe even sword and magic) his spouse and his child if need be.

[antimatterz]

boyfriend/dating headcanons

ft. dan heng, gepard (my fav hubbies yesyes)

they might be ooc since i'm still getting into hsr and still trying to get to know them. might rewrite this when i am at that point and maybe i'll expand it with various other characters, i'll see lol

content under the cut | masterlist

— dan heng

here's the thing with dan heng

he's quite reserved but also unintentionally blunt and bold sometimes

i mean, he literally was about to perform cpr when he found you unconscious? boy going for that kiss after meeting you a minute ago

the proverb "still waters run deep" perfectly applies to him. he appears placid and that's something you really have to get used to in the beginning

he doesn't say much, nor does he seem to react much to what happens around him

which is a little weird to you at first. is he even happy with you? is he even affected by your presence and your actions? it doesn't seem that way... it confuses you

but really, once you get to know him, you learn to read him very well and you start to see things

his eyes, the corners of his mouth, the faint blush on his cheeks, the secret glances, the way he seems less indifferent around you

the light touches when he thinks no one is watching; his hand on the small of your back as you walk through the corridors of the space station, his fingertips grazing yours as he ponders whether or not to just take your hand even though you're in public..

eventually he grows more confident and open, and though he's still not a big fan of pda, he just can't resist showering you with subtle hints of affection

like playing with your hair during trailblazer meetings as you sit against him (the corners of his mouth would curl up ever so slightly that it's barely even noticable)

oh as i said before, he tends to be quite blunt sometimes, as he often speaks his honest thoughts. okay, he isn't the type to just blurt out things so he knows what he's saying but he also knows how it never fails to make you blush as his remarks leave you flustered

he's not the most cuddly person, you might have to help him get into a little. maybe you have to initiate acts of affection 9 out of 10 times but that doesn't mean he doesn't love you !! it's just how he is

you'd be surprised, though, as the longer the two of you are together, the more he makes the first move when it comes to showing love and affection

still though, i feel like he's more the type to verbally tell you how much you mean to him than through affection

and yeah, he'll leave you flustered as heck because he likes you a lot and he bluntly tells you so because why hide it?

you often tease him about the cpr thing and all the teasing will eventually lead to your first kiss (c'mon, you literally challenged him with all your teasing and who would not indulge if their s/o is literally asking for it?)

well, dan heng takes the chance

as blunt as he is with words, he is way more shy with next-level physical affection so his kisses are shy shy shy and careful which is really cute especially since he becomes so blushy afterwards in the beginning

and seeing the always so collected dan heng being flustered is a rarity and it's just super adorable

— gepard landau

this guy has a reputation

that of being a tough guy, stern and with a strong sense of justice, strong-willed and to some maybe even as cold as the ice of the eternal freeze that covered jarilo-vi

however, that was merely a facade, one that was pretty much mandatory as the captain of the silvermane guards and part of the royal family of belobog

it was only his public image, one that he showed to the people of belobog. you fell for it at first, being quite intimidated by the reputation that preceded him far and wide

but oh, then he developed a soft spot for you and it's so so so obvious that even the people of belobog notice it lol

yes they might notice it but they will never actually get to see the softie he is around you and he r e a l l y is soft for you

will go to his sister serval for advice in the beginning because as tough as he may seem he is actually quite insecure regarding this matter and just wants to do it well

and he is such a sweetheart??

special little smiles only for you, watching him utter out compliments and sweet nothings while he's trying to hide how very flustered he is even more so when you are the one calling him cute names and stuff

not afraid to show you off when the two of you are walking around belobog during his free time, always holding your hand and all

gets beet red every time serval teases him and that happens a lot – which is super adorable; seeing such a tall and tough guy all blushy, you can't help but coo at it which makes it even worse for the poor male

i wouldn't necessarily say he's super cuddly, he's more casual when it comes to that? like he loves it when you snuggle up against him and he won't hesitate to wrap his arm around you and hold you close but going all tiny and cuddly? that's just not him ig but he loves it when you get all clingy around him and he'll reward you with the cutest smile

but really, he has his own ways of showing that he's super into you. for instance, the fact that he's gepard around you instead of captain landau

[zooophagous]

I'm curious if you'd be willing to elaborate about what kind of behaviours/ attitude in labs and lab mixes your not a fan of, I've only really interacted with labs and lab mixes second hand so I'm honestly not all that familiar with their quirks (and while my family used to sometimes get gun dog super mutts we actually haven't had one since I was born so I'm not particularly familiar with their quirks I'm more familiar with herding breed and sight hound quirks)

I will preface this by saying different bloodlines of lab are better than others. A labrador bred for service dog work will be a different beast than a field bred hunting labrador. A well bred stable labrador is a joy.

Most labs I've met, and that exist around here, are not stable lol. They're largely field bred and expected to work, and as long as they can return a duck to hand and not savage livestock or other dogs, they're considered good enough to keep breeding.

These high energy dogs are then often kenneled when not working and go sort of insane. They're a friendly breed with no stranger danger but that backfires because they become TOO happy to see you.

So what that means is you can walk into any given home that has one and be immediately assaulted by 80 to 100 lbs of labrador that will merrily pummel the shit out of you with its big stupid paws because it loves you so much that it simply has to beat you to death and lick the inside of your mouth.

It never learned anything useful beyond get the duck so its owners attempts to get it off of you are fruitless because they can't control it verbally or physically (dog is stronger than them) and to top it off labs usually smell bad so even if you aren't phsyically bruised from them you're covered in footprints and bad dog smell.

They bark and they're loud about it. They're incapable of knowing their own strengths, and many of them have PICA and will consume inappropriate items like socks, wood chips or rocks and break their teeth or worse require surgery.

The people raising them seem to have very little interest in making a nice normal dog with a good off switch and instead have created a dog that's friendly and good at fetch but is the most obnoxious brain dead idiot on the planet who doesn't even know he's being an asshole when he runs over you.

I've just been annoyed to death by too many untrained labradors that the entire breed has been poisoned to me. I've met exactly one labrador I thought was a nice calm normal family dog. So far I haven't found her equal. I'd almost prefer a dog that doesn't want to be touched to a dog like that.

[maochira]

"There's nothing more cruel than to be loved by everybody - but you"

Tags: gn!reader x Michael Kaiser, kind of hopeless romantic!Kaiser, hard to get!reader, title is a Fall Out Boy lyric because sometimes all it takes is hearing one line and I get inspired to write something

Kaiser could have anyone if he wanted to - but he wants you and only you. It's quite obvious. He turns down any love confession and proceeds his attempt to get you to fall for him.

What he doesn't know, that already happened. You've fallen for him long ago when he started crushing on you. So what's stopping you for confessing your love to him and starting a relationship?

Well, you want Kaiser to be the one confessing. But he's always been too stubborn to simply say "I love you" despite his attempts to court you. And you know he's too stubborn for it. That's the fun part of it.

It's pretty much a back and fourth between the two of you. Kaiser wants you to fall for him and confess, while you play hard to get and want him to confess.

You swear there have been moments when he almost said it. Moments when the phrase "I'm in love with you" ran through his head over and over while everything in him screamed to just say it. And then he didn't.

As hard as you've fallen for him, you've always had a good grip on not letting Kaiser win. In fact, the way you act around him doesn't even give off the impression that you're in love with him just as much as he is with you.

And at some times, Kaiser feels like a hopeless romantic. Sometimes, he feels as if he'll never win your love. But he's not willing to give up. No, he can't give up after he already spent months trying to get you to fall for him. He's THE Michael Kaiser, after all.

You've never told him to stop whatever he's doing and never told him to leave you alone either. That makes him sure you must have at least a bit of interest in him. Just a spark he has to turn into a flame.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Kaiser starts putting extra effort into you. His gestures become very obviously romantic - but he's still too stubborn to verbally confess his love.

That's why you continue acting as if you're oblivious to all of his romantic intentions.

Even when today's afternoon, you open the front door to see Kaiser standing in front of you, nicely dressed with a bouquet of roses in his hand.

"What brings you here?" You hold back a giggle as you take the bouquet into your hands. It seems handmade, but you could swear it wasn't made by Kaiser. He probably made Ness do it.

"I wanted to ask you about something." Kaiser answered, his voice full of overconfidence as always.

You look at him with curious eyes. "And that would be?"

"Well, would you like to go on a date with me?"

His words sent butterflies into your stomach in an instant. Asking you to go out on a date is the farthest Kaiser has gone so far. And still, just for fun, you don't want to agree just yet.

"A date? You and me? Why's that?"

"Come on, it'll be fun." Kaiser walks a step closer to you. "Just the two of us, doesn't that sound nice?"

"It sure does, but you haven't explained why."

"I did. It'll be fun." Kaiser keeps the overconfident grin on his face, but you easily notice he's about to lose patience if you continue to ask questions instead of agreeing to his offer.

So that's exactly what you do.

"I don't really know about that," you shrug and break eye contact for a moment, "What makes you think I'd go on a date with you?"

Kaiser curses his own stubbornness in his head before he continues talking to you.

"Come on, we'll have a great time."

"I still don't see a reason why I should go with you. Why are you asking me? Why not someone else?"

You know if he asked anyone else, they'd agree immediately. But he won't because you're the one he truly wants.

Kaiser is about to lose his patience with you. It's clearly visible in his grin that's about to break.

"I want to take you on a date, (Y/N)."

"Why me? I'm pretty sure the-"

Kaiser interrupts you by grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer to himself. Your faces are only centimetres away and it'd be the perfect chance to steal a kiss. But you're not letting that happen yet. Not until he says-

"Because I love you." Kaiser's face gets even closer, but a kiss doesn't happen yet.

You didn't expect this to be the moment when he confesses, you certainly thought it'd take a bit longer to get his stubbornness to break. But it's nothing you'd ever complain about.

Sure, you could continue playing around with all of that. But you've got what you wanted.

"Okay, I'll go on a date with you. But only because I love you, too."

"Guess I finally won your heart, hm?" Kaiser leans in to finally place his lips on yours.

Once he pulls away, you look into his eyes and respond: "You won my heart long ago, idiot."

[rainybraindays]

So let me get this straight.

The fandom is willing to forgive Portia, who has been abusing her daughters and everyone who comes into her hom? The woman who lied to convince Marina she as unwanted by the man she loves, and slapped her for not wanting to marry a man who could be her grandfather? Who added unnecessary trauma onto her because she didn't like her, othering her the moment she showed up?

The mother who had Prudences corset pulled so tight she fainted? Who used Penelope as the family punching bag, and told her Colin is as much her friend as she was Catherine the Great? Who is constantly verbally abusive and pitting her children against each other to make them earn her love? Who was willing to ruin her childs reputation in order to keep control over her household? Who didn't explain sex to Phillipa which if not for Albion being a good man besotted with his wife could have lead to an incredibly traumatic experience?

We're forgiving her and not Cressida?

Cressida who is being abused by her parents, who was raised in a way that would insure she self isolated from her peers? The girl, only 20 years old, being told shes going to marry a man 3x her age, and that shes no longer allowed to wear color or fun fashions? Wouldn't be allowed to go to more than one social event a month? Denied access to arts and music becaue they're vulgar, and expected to endure him using her body for 4-5 children?

I'm meant to be mad about what she does in desperation to get out of this situation, and I'm meant to celebrate Eloise dropping her and talking poorly about her, despite the fact that Cressida was growing and trying to be better because she viewed Eloise as a friend she cared for and waned to keep? I'm meant to find it fair that shes being sent to live with her equally abusive and controlling aunt, far away from everything and everyone she knows?

Y'all have me absolutely fucked up if you think thats happening

[preciouslittletoonette]

I was just thinking about the Wish concept art and the whole worry of "Star being too similar/compared a lot to Genie". I was thinking about all the different ways they could've or even would've like, lessen the comparisons by just changing certain things.

Genie is a zany, verbally loud, fast-talking comedian type wish granter who can immediately summon things with a snap and a point of his finger. He's a cosmically powerful being bound to certain rules and the whims of his master (at least in the first film) along with the restraints the lamp has on him that only allows him to grant three wishes per master. This is the basic layer of what and who Genie is, this is what the least invested audience member would notice.

So with all of this in mind, we can now use this to both deconstruct and reconstruct Star as a character.

Starting with the established thing: Star is verbally mute, that already removes the verbally loud, fast-talking comedian edge Genie is known for. I can even push it and say on a surface level, that's a stark enough of a difference, seeing as Genie's draw was that he was such a zany fast-talker voiced by Robin Williams (RIP King). But I want to go all the way in so I will.

Now for their powers and wish-granting abilities.

Both Star and Genie should be/are cosmically powerful. They are both beings that grant wishes after all. That'll always be something they share as characters. So how do you make it different from each other?

I have a few things in mind. The biggest thing being: what are the limits of their abilities? How do their wish granting powers manifest? What is their attitude and general behavior like when they use magic?

I already mentioned Genie's limits above. I'll get to Star's soon but that's gonna be an entire talk I want to leave for later. For now, I will talk about how do their wish granting powers manifest.

When Genie grants wishes, it's a very instantaneous BOOM in your face kind of deal. He does things dramatically with comedic flair.

I think to make Star different from that, you can draw inspiration from another Disney wish granter that I'm really surprised Disney didn't do more to reference her or the movie she's from: the Blue Fairy from Pinocchio.

So the way Blue Fairy grants wishes for those who haven't seen Pinocchio in forever or haven't seen it at all: the Blue Fairy- rather than instantaneously granting your wish as Genie would- would give you the means and path towards your wish coming true, but in order for your wish to really come true, you yourself gotta have that drive, put in the effort and work towards your wish.

That's how Star's wish magic should work. While, he could still grant impossible, extraordinary wishes like make animals talk and give plants sentience, yeah. But I think it would be interesting along with being meaningful to see Star set up a path for someone's wish to come true. It could spark a small discussion between him and Asha about wishes and how one is to truly go about them. Star gets into the real truth of what his powers are like that basically comes down to:

"My powers will only go as far as the wish maker themselves are willing to go"

Which now brings us to what is Star's limit? Genie is limited by rules of the lamp and the whims of his master. Star has no such thing as he is a free being. He owes no one anything and he's bound to nothing, leaving him with no rules other than the ones he himself placed on himself. So, he's got to be possibly very powerful. And he probably could grant everyone's desires. But he won't/can't. Why?

Because it's your wish. And Star can only go as far as you yourself are willing to go. This isn't a meet half way type of thing either.

This is a "we are travelling to your destination TOGETHER. We are both gonna work on this TOGETHER. You are gonna put the work in from start to finish and I am going to help you get there no matter how long it takes or how much we'll lose along the way".

Because THIS is what classic Disney movies are about!!! THIS IS HOW WISHES WORKED IN THE CLASSIC MOVIES. YOU DIDN'T JUST WISH UPON A STAR AND YOUR WISH WILL COME TRUE, YOU HAD TO GO ON JOURNEYS, PUT IN EFFORT AND MAKE SACRIFICES.

Star would be willing to go the mile to make your wish come true, but you got to be the one to lead him there.

Now for the more fun bit that'll lean in more to what Star's personality might be like. Their behavior as they do magic.

Genie is explosive in such a way that he is constantly buzzing with pent up energy that came from years of imprisonment and isolation and his magic reflects that. It is fast and wild and funny to watch.

I like to think Star's is a more relaxed, ethereal version of that. Not so ethereal, you would think of Blue Fairy when you see it though. But Star's magic gets released in a sparkly, dusty way (like pixie dust almost) as opposed to Genie's zap and puff of smoke.

Another way to differentiate Star from Genie, I think Star's gotta have lower energy than what Genie has. Genie's energy comes from years of imprisonment that bubbled and finally exploded once released. Star, I don't think would have that. Star is a star, it is very likely he could see what was happening in the world below but not really be able to interact with humans. Once he gets down to Rosas, he wants to see and touch everything. He's quietly curious with a child-like spark to him, who keeps dusting his magic with something to see what would happen.

Now for Star's shape-shifting, I think comparisons are more likely to happen with characters like Maui or Camilo because they're more recent. I think this one stands fine alone.

One lil detail I would add to Star is in regards as to how he flies. I've always been in love with how Disney went about Peter Pan flying. Sometimes when Peter lands, he does little pirouette spins which are so so so charming. And just in general, sometimes there's something oddly graceful about how Peter flies that I think would work super well for Star.

So this is my conclusion as to how to mitigate the Star & Genie comparisons by just changing bits of pieces of the surface level traits of him a little.

So Genie is as what I said above: a zany, verbally loud, fast-talking comedian type, shape-shifting wish granter who can immediately summon things with a snap and a point of his finger. He's a cosmically powerful being bound to certain rules and the whims of his master (at least in the first film) along with the restraints the lamp has on him that only allows him to grant three wishes per master.

Whereas Star would be: a verbally mute, gentle & curious type wish granter with a very relaxed, dreamy kind of magic meant to reflect his daydreamer tendencies. Star is a free cosmically powerful being with no limits to what his magic can do, with his only condition for his wish granting magic being that the wish maker themself must meet him from start to finish and put forth the effort and drive in order to make the wish come true with the help he has/will provide.

And those are my thoughts :)