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turtleblogatlast · 5 months

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[ cw: risk taking behavior / circumstantial self harm kinda / ignoring of injuries / self-depreciation / slight ooc-ness but for a reason! / ]

Post invasion, Leo is fine.

More than fine! He’s better than before, even. That is, if you don’t count the slightly cracked shell and still healing bones, but those are only a problem when the weather wants them to be!

Leo really is better in the ways that matter.

He’s not as cocky, not as self-centered, and overall just more heroic in general if he does say so himself.

Raph even said he was proud of Leo!

So obviously things are going well.

But.

It’s not enough.

Leo’s better, sure, but he’s still got work to do.

So - and here’s something that will probably make his brothers faint on the spot - he needs to train.

_____

His brothers do not faint, but it’s a near thing for Raph. Mikey has to fan the snapper’s face and Donnie almost brings out the smelling salts before Raph shoots back to his feet with an excited grin.

Leo’s big brother gets teary eyed soon after and envelops him in a bear hug, saying once again how proud he is that Leo is growing up.

Leo lets himself be hugged, even hugs back as fiercely as he can, because unbeknownst to Raph, this marks the end of Leo’s childhood.

He lets himself be hugged like a kid one last time, looking through the hole in Raph’s shell all the while.

_____

Leo only trains the regular way with his brothers and occasionally April and the Caseys, but most especially Raph.

But of course that’s not enough, it was never going to be.

So he goes through the motions of the stretches, the spars, the meditation, and then he leaves.

He makes sure to have his excuses ready, usually defaulting to Hueso as his go to since his brothers are easily bought off with the promise of pizza. Leo hasn’t yet found the tracker Donnie installed in him, but when he does that’ll be dealt with too! But for now, this should be good.

See, the invasion made him realize something.

It’s not about him, but it was his shortcomings that led to everything going to hell.

So he just…needs to get rid of those shortcomings.

He’s working on it, gaining fighting skill in training, but there’s more he needs to do, more skills he needs to train.

Leo watches intently as Repo Mantis swindles someone, he memorizes the sleight of hand that Hypno performs, he sneaks back into the Mystic Library and is so quiet the hush bats forget he’s there, he talks Big Mama into honing his manipulation, and he even sneaks into human hospitals and reptile veterinary clinics to get a clue on more serious injuries.

And after any of these, he heads to Run of the Mill to compete in the Maze of Death.

_____

This is his twelfth time going through the (newly remodeled and even more deadly) Maze of Death, and would be his fifth time winning. The first three times had him waking up in Hueso’s office, and each time he wakes his old persona shines through.

He always waves off Hueso’s annoyance and questions and insists on trying again next time before he steals some pizza and bails.

The skeleton actively tries to stop him from entering the Maze after the first time, but hey- mystics are allowed before you enter.

It’s easy enough to teleport on by.

Harder to meet Hueso’s - and later his brothers’ - eyes when he fails again.

When he first actually won, Hueso congratulates him in that typical deadpan tone of his.

“Ah, felicidades, Pepino. Now you can move on, sí?”

“Hm? Nah, boneman! That run was sloppy!”

And then Leo runs off before Hueso can stop him.

He doesn’t even look at his picture on the champion wall when he next comes around. It’s not much to look at anyway.

_____

His second win is much like the first, and only his third win is actually acceptable.

But he knows the field too much now. He needs a challenge.

When he attempts to go through it blindfolded, he’s quickly shown how much he doesn’t know the Maze. So, obviously, he loses again.

He got a bit more banged up that time around.

“Pepino, basta ya, you’ve already won. Where are your brothers?”

“I can’t stop yet, señor! This is for my brothers - no les digas, please.”

Even if Hueso wanted to tell Leo’s brothers, they haven’t been in enough for him to get to, and it’s not like Hueso has their number since Leo’s the one Hueso usually contacts. For now, Leo’s safe to continue as is.

Though his injuries are getting harder to hide, and there’s only so much his shell in particular can take.

So to speed things up, he incorporates the blindfold into his regular training.

His brothers question it, of course, but hey, he initially got the idea from seeing Lou Jitsu do it in the third best Lou Jitsu movie, so it comes as a great excuse now.

He’s only a little put off by how fast Mikey adapts to it when the others try.

“I dunno-“ Mikey shrugs when asked, “You guys shine so brightly anyway, a mask doesn’t do much.”

Seeing their mystic energies is pretty cool, Leo can admit.

He just wishes he could grasp that himself - and that it was useful for a death maze.

_____

Leo’s training pulls off eventually, and soon, after a few more losses, he wins a forth time. But it’s a near loss, and a near loss is the difference between someone living and dying.

He’s gotta go again.

Hueso’s more insistent than ever, though.

“You must stop, Pepino.”

“But I can do better-“

“You don’t have to! Your shell is bleeding - ¡por tu propio bien, poner fin a esto!”

“I told you, this is for their own good! For everyone’s own good!”

He forgets the pizzas when he leaves. He claims sickness when he hides under his covers.

He ignores how childish the act makes him feel.

_____

Leo’s getting better, and his reflexes and tact in training shows this. His other training of his subterfuge and medical skills also prove to be useful.

He’s pretty good at hiding injuries, now! Though not so good at hiding a pained shell. Even Donnie looks at him with blatant concern (and understanding) when Leo can’t help but take a sharp breath whenever he lands on his back.

It’s hard not to go right back into waving everything off with jokes like he used to. Deflections are easier when they’re annoying!

But- this is just another reason that he needs to get better, right? So his brothers won’t worry. He doesn’t need the spotlight anymore - he’s over that, thanks.

He squashes down the part of him that perks up when Splinter says he’s growing up. He actively kills the part of himself that cries at the same phrase.

_____

So. Yeah. This’ll be his twelfth time running the Maze. And, hopefully, his fifth win. Maybe he really will move on after this.

The Hidden City is pretty big! There’s probably a bigger challenge somewhere.

Maybe Big Mama has a more secret Nexus hidden away, out of the public eye.

Well, whatever. That’s a future problem for him to figure out, yeah? For now, he carries on like usual, teleporting to the entrance of the Maze and diving right in.

Even blindfolded, he works his way through, dodging and weaving and feeling as he goes. He even tries to evoke his inner Mikey and calls on his mystic energy. Not enough to cheat, but enough to feel.

Usually, when Leo teleports, he swears he feels every part of himself disperse into particles. Now, with energy thrumming under his scales, he can feel particles everywhere.

It’s not refined enough to tell him everything, and he gets a fun new burn and a nice whack to the back by getting distracted. Still, it gives him more than he had before. It makes him more aware of everything, like he licked a finger and held it in the air to feel the direction of wind, but every direction blew wind, all in different ways.

He makes it to the end with minimal injuries after that, and sure, his shell is screaming at him now, but he thinks he did a shell of a good job.

…Ah, he needs to cut that out, huh? Man. Maybe Donnie’s collar idea was a good call after all.

Leo needs to be a hero. Not a face man. Not a failure.

Not a kid.

_____

Leo doesn’t smile when the Minotaur takes his picture again for the champion wall, and he doesn’t listen when she tells him to “go home and never come back.”

He doesn’t plan to, anyway, yeesh.

He’s tired as he trudges out of the exit, and Hueso catches him when he stumbles.

Hueso doesn’t say anything. Leo doesn’t either.

Or, he doesn’t, until he feels a familiar large hand helping him up as well.

Leo’s face whips up as he flinches back, eyes wide as they meet with a worried (so, so worried) Raph’s.

“You told them?” Leo asks Hueso in betrayal, heart thudding wildly in his chest.

“Pepino…”

“Told us what?” Mikey pipes up from behind Raph, coming closer to get a better look at Leo, “Leo, what’s going on?”

“Your shell has been having pretty big setbacks on its healing, is this why?” Donnie demands, glaring fiercely as he motions toward the Maze.

Leo feels unmoored. “I-“

“Leo.” Raph interrupts, and no Leo doesn’t want to hear it- “Are you okay?”

And Leo wants to say “it’s not about me”. He wants to say anything that proved he learned his lesson, that he’s not a liability or worse, an active danger to his own family.

He wants Raph to continue being proud of him. He wants his brothers to trust him.

Instead, he passes out.

_____

The next time his eyes open, Leo’s on his side, staring at his blue lava lamp.

He knows without looking that his shell is re-bandaged. He knows his other injuries have been dealt with too.

And unless Leo learned how to do some pretty impressive medical sleepwalking, he knows he’s not getting away this time.

All three of his brothers being in his room prove that.

“What’s been going on, Leo?” Mikey asks, and his voice cracks partway through.

He’s looking at Leo like he’s searching for something, but Leo doesn’t have anything to show. Nothing’s hidden, he just did some light spring cleaning is all, throwing out all the parts he didn’t need.

All the parts they didn’t need.

And yet despite everything, he can feel himself falling back into old ways, a grin tugging at his beak and lackadaisical deflection on the tip of his tongue.

Maybe he should let that part of him show, just for once. It wouldn’t seem like too much of a setback would it? And he could really use a fun pun right about now-

No.

No it’s not about him. He needs to remember why he did all this in the first place.

“Okay- sorry, guys.” He smiles, softly, quietly, “I guess I got too caught up in training. I’ll work at it some more, don’t worry.”

“Oh, I see. Training. That’s all it was, huh? Training.” Donnie hisses more than says, nearly vibrating in anger.

“…yeah?” Leo nods slowly, because, uh, that’s literally the most honest thing he said. It was training.

“If it’s just “training” then why the secrecy, hm? Why in Curie’s good name did you prefer to sneak around rather than, oh, I don’t know, tell your family?”

Leo feels his shoulders rise at Donnie’s aggression, defensiveness welling up in him, “It was my training! Nothing went wrong, I’m getting better!”

“Better?” Raph asks incredulously, “Leo, you’re wasting away. A tap to the shell stuns you for minutes, you lost weight, and your dark circles are worse than Raph’s ever seen them! You aren’t getting better-!”

“YES I AM!”

The words rip out of Leo before he can stop them.

The room is silent as his brother look at him, all wearing expressions of hurt that Leo put there again.

“Yes I am.” Leo reiterates, shaking, “Because- if I’m not-“ He squeezes his eyes shut. “If I’m not-“

Then what was all this for?

Arms slowly wrap around him, and he knows now from the feel of the mystic that it’s Mikey.

“You’ve gotten faster, and sneakier.” Mikey says quietly. “When I accidentally cut my hand, you knew exactly how to take care of it.” His voice grows firm, and he backs out of the hug, “But those are your skills. You, though, you’ve been…you’ve been…”

“You’ve been dilapidating before our very eyes, and trying to hide it.” Donnie finishes, jaw tight. “You think we wouldn’t notice? After everything?” To Leo’s horror, Donnie’s voice is hoarse with tears, “You absolute dumb dumb.”

“I- but I need to train. The Maze is-“

“Leo, we don’t care that you ran through the Maze. We care you did it alone.” Raph says quietly. “We could have joined you, any time.”

“But- but I’m doing this for you-“

“Listen to your brothers, Blue.” They jump as a new voice joins the fray, heads turning to see Splinter make his way into the - frankly crowded - room.

“Dad, I-“ Leo begins, but trails off, suddenly more unsure than ever in the face of his father.

“It’s good you’re finally picking up training! Especially for your brothers’ sakes! But there’s such a thing as going overboard, you know.” Splinter pokes a sharp claw into Leo’s plastron, “Just because you’re dragging it out this time, doesn’t make this any less of a sacrifice. My son, you’ve taken after Karai an awful lot, haven’t you?”

Leo just looks at his father. At his brothers. Then, he looks down at his calloused hands, bandaged and scarred from overuse.

He swallows dryly. “Is that a bad thing?”

He feels his family crowd in around him, feels his father’s hand on his shoulder.

“It’s not wrong to want to be better, Leonardo.” Splinter says, softly and with so much grief and guilt that Leo can never begin to understand, “But you were never bad to begin with.”

Leo’s breath hitches.

“And-” Splinter’s hands rise up to frame Leo’s face. “You are much too young to ever consider sacrifice the best answer.”

“You got me to relax, Leo. So I’ll do the same for you.” Raph grins, eyes wet, “We’re still kids, right?”

And-

Leo smiles, watery but genuine. “Yeah, Raph. We are.”

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt leo #rottmnt headcanons #rise leo #rise fanfic #WHOOPS #did not mean to write all this #my only regret is not including April #anyway I was like wow Leo sure is acting different at the end of the movie huh #then I thought hey he’s actually acting a lot like previous iterations of Leo rn #then I ran with it and tripped down the stairs in the process #thus this was born!#I am tired so more tags later #but dang oops a bit too angsty gotta do smth lighthearted soon huh #also yes he DOES go back and apologize for putting Hueso through so much #he gets a smack on the head and a head pat immediately after #‘don’t do it again Pepino - not until I finally get the Maze shut down’ ‘okay wait what-‘

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ricciardosgirl · 5 months

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" just friends. "

tw ; smut , smut and more smut.

situationship , rough sex.

————————————————————————

you were friends , until he had you bent over some random dorm room sink. you were friends until he fucked you. you were friends. just friends. nothing more — nothing less.

passing glances , agony fills your system each time he pretended to not know you. fallacious hope after every night he ravaged you. you'd be lying in his dorm room. he's sat on his windowsill , cigarette in mouth as he ignores you . . waiting for you to just leave.

you'd hesitate , eyes wandering around his crowded messy room — taking a moment to breathe. " round two or are you leaving ? " he'd ask coldly , not even turning around to face you. he already knew the answer , you always stayed.

he'd only talk to you in private , and even then the conversation barely lasted — the only thing it seemed that the two of you had in common was love for the art of fucking. it had been a common dance between you two , varying from time to time.

sometimes , he'd be sweet. you'd almost think he's making love to you , but he's just doing this to make you stay. other times , most times , he'd fuck you so hard to where you could barely move afterwards.

" yeah , you like my cock ? say it. " he'd spit on your face , large hands grasping at your throat just right. you gargled out something , but that wasn't good enough. " say it. " he would slap the soft flesh of your ass.

once , only once , he papered you. on your birthday of all things. it was the only time that you ever felt like he gave a fuck about you. he laid on near the edge of your bed , mouth covering your soft sensitive bud. his face already soaking wet and practically dripping onto the sheets as he edged you closer and closer to your release.

that was a good day , a long time ago however. you still think about it.

maybe you aren't friends , maybe this is more than that , maybe it isn't. you saw him take orher girls into a party bathroom or his dorm , it bothered you. and it bothered him because it wasn't you.

" such a fucking whore for me. " face squished into the mirror , farleigh's hands cupped your cheek - his thumb in your mouth. he was driving himself so deep into you . . all you could do was sit there and take it.

" need a cig ? "

he asked , eyes stare over at your semi - covered figure. this was the first time he'd ever said anything different. the first time he actually offered something. " sure. " you came over , joining him on his windowsill after a long night of intense fucking.

you expected something good , something worth coming over for. you lit the cigarette , taking a long drag before he spoke.

" we should stop. " cold , your heart stung. " why ? " he should have at least some integrity . . he should tell you. but instead , he stayed silent.

you walked away that night , tears streaming down your face pathetically.

so much for friends.

#saltburn #farleigh start #smut #i heart saltburn #i cannot get him out of my head #fanfic #oops i did it again #i need to like not write so much for him

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unforth · 7 months

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I had a day off yesterday.

And I can already practically hear the assumptions that such a statement is prompting the reader to make. Those assumptions are wrong. I don't mean I didn't work. I did, for about 8 hours. That's not at all what I mean.

I mean my wife took the kids out at 9:30, spent the night with her mom, isn't back yet the next morning.

There are things I NEED people on this website to understand about parenting. And I've talked about it before, and I'll talk about it again, because honestly the way that Tumblr as a cohort talks about parents makes me sick. Multiple polls have shown that only about 2% of people on here are parents. We're a huge minority, and we're constantly talked over, ignored, or accused of being bad parents (like, personally, I have had people reply to my comments or come on to my posts and tell me I shouldn't have my kids). In my case, being a parent means I'm almost 41, I'm married to @ramblingandpie, and our children are inching up on being 8 and 6 years old.

My entire day, and therefore my entire life, revolves around them. I'm up most mornings at 5 AM, because that's the earliest they're "allowed" to wake up, and so my brain just defaults to being awake around then - better to wake up before them, at least then I get a few minutes in the morning. Between 5 and 7, I sit with them, do my social media, work on side blogs, study Chinese. Then it's helping them get ready for school, then my wife or I or both get them on the bus, and then I work until the last possible minute, which is either when I need to go pick them up for an after school activity or when I need to go down and meet them off the bus. My afternoons are after school activities, chores such as washing the dishes and cleaning up toys, talking with them, working with them, playing with them. Their bedtime starts at 7:40, and my son gets scared if I leave before he falls asleep so I sit with him until about 8:15. As soon as he's asleep, I go fall on my face, sleep as best I can, then wake up and do it again. Overnight, it's hard to sleep deeply, because about once a week someone will wake up in the middle of the night and need help. That could be as minimal as a hug or as complex as having to completely change the bedding on a bunk bed at 2 AM while also comforting a child who is afraid they'll be in trouble, or afraid they're sick, or afraid of their nightmare, or, or, or. Further, if a child is awake, there is always noise. I usually study Chinese with two or more competing sources of noise. I read the same way. My life is loud, and active, and consists of constant interruptions.

I adore my family, and I love my children, but this is terrible for me.

I do all of this as an neurodivergent introvert. My clinical depression is at least medicated, mostly because post-partum depression after I gave birth the first time nearly drove me to suicidal in under a week (we were expecting this and were prepared, fortunately, getting help was as simple as a phone call). The constant noise and interruptions and forced socialibility are about the worst combination of home-life I could be subjected to. I spend far too many early mornings just breathing deeply and gearing myself up to be subjected to the wall of Loud, Boisterous, Needing-My-Attention that is every minute when anyone else in the house is awake.

So what did my day off look like?

I helped get the kids ready to go and did some morning chores. I'd been up at 4:30 AM so I also had already social media'd and studied. Then, while my wife finished the preparations, I started work, and I worked from about 8 am to about 4 pm, straight. I didn't get hungry so didn't bother stopping for lunch. No one interrupted me, no one asked me to look at anything they'd built, no one broke my concentration, no sounds could be heard except those I'd chosen myself.

I'd been out the day before at a local shopping street and listened closely to the things the kids said they wanted, so at 4 I grabbed a couple orders I needed to ship for work and drove to our local downtown, dropped the orders in a post box, then went back to the shops and did some Christmas shopping in the 45 minutes or so before everything closed. I think I'm basically done with what we'll get them - other bigger things will be left to grand parents - so that's a load off, I literally had a stress dream earlier this week about it being 12/24 and having forgotten to do the shopping and having to go to (oh horrors) the mall on the day before Christmas. (Reminder: I'm a Jewish atheist. It's just virtually impossible not to Holiday in the Culturally Christian Hellscape that is the US. Also, my wife is Christian. So.) Found something cute for my wife, too, even tho I already know the main thing I'm getting her. Then, I realized - one of my favorite restaurants is on that block. So. I went there. I sat by myself at a table, only the indistinct restaurant hubbub around me. I read four or five chapters of my book, and ate a savory crepe, and drank lovely fruit tea, and got a scone to-go that I'll eat for lunch today. It was more than I probably should have spent on myself - about $25, including tip - but fuck it. I only get maybe a handful of days off all year, and I'm allowed to indulge a little.

Then I came home. There were no lights on. There was no noise. I had considered doing some more merch work while watching TV on the actual television (my kids are too young for subtitled shows, so usually if I want to watch My Shows I either have to do it on my computer when they're not around, or put them on and read all the subtitles aloud while trying to keep up and process the actual meaning of what I'm reading). But when I got back, the quiet and dark was so goddamn NICE that instead I curled up on the couch and read more of my book. I did that until bedtime - still about 8:15, because I'm exhausted. Then...I went to bed. And I slept long and deep, knowing that there was no chance I'd be interrupted and woken up, I didn't have to be, even in sleep, alert to every noise and possibility that I'd be needed.

I'm still exhausted and burned out, but even one night to myself felt really, really nice.

Saying "Tumblr does X" as a universal statement is doomed to failure, but generally speaking, the parenting posts I see on Tumblr, the ones with tens or hundreds of thousands of notes, speak what's apparently widely seen as a truism on here: that unless someone wants to spend 24/7 with their kids, to be 100% emotionally available at all times, is always kind and patient and perfect, they are a bad parent, maybe even abusive. I remember when covid started, there were multiple posts actively mocking the "oh god, my kids are now home all the time, how am I supposed to do this?" attitude that a lot of parents posted in despair. WhY dId YoU hAvE kIdS iF yOu DoN't WaNt To SpEnD tImE wItH tHeM?

Look at what my usual day looks like.

Look at what my day off looked like.

Do you really think I don't want to spend time with my kids? Do you really think I don't love my kids?

But I'm not a fucking MACHINE. I'm a PERSON. That's what people on Tumblr seem to forget. PARENTS ARE PEOPLE. The same tumblrinas who post ~uwu be kind to yourself rest if you need to, you should forgive yourself for that mistake you made~ will turn around, with zero sense of irony, and post "you're a bad parent if you ever raise your voice around a child."

Expecting parents to be perfect means expecting parents to be inhuman. It also means that a parent can't be poor (can't spend all your time being the perfect parent if you have to work multiple jobs or weird hours!), can't be introverted (can't be a perfect parent if you're not completely emotional available, god forbid socializing is exhausting for you), can't be on the ADHD or autism spectrum (what do you mean you forgot to get your kid to a doctor's appointment once? what do you mean over-stimulation can make you angry? how dare you get angry at a kid!), can't be depressed (gotta get out of bed every single day, gotta always be upbeat, patient, happy, or else that's Evil), can't be (like my wife) physically disabled (what do you mean your hands hurt too much to hold a child's hand? are you denying them touch?? CRUEL). And when the only answer you can offer to that is, "if you can't be that perfect you shouldn't be a parent," then you're saying people who aren't middle class to wealthy, people who aren't neurotypical, people who aren't physically able, shouldn't have children.

And honestly...what the fuck is your problem?

I'm not perfect. I tell my kids to just leave me alone sometimes. I raise my voice, especially when one of my kids starts punching the other, but also sometimes just cause I'm exhausted and Can't Anymore. I've forgotten an appointment by accident and felt like a total fucking idiot, and I've skipped an after school activity because I just wasn't up for taking them. I've served them more unbalanced, unhealthy meals than I can count. I've made many, many mistakes, but I've also done my best, and I love my kids, and I hope that when they grow up, they'll still love me even as they recognize that I wasn't perfect, just as I've come to accept my own parents' short-comings while still loving them very much. They're people, too, and the older I get, the more I understand where they were coming from.

When I fuck up, I apologize.

When they tell me they're unhappy with something I've done, I apologize, and I try to do better. Sometimes I even succeed.

This shit is hard, yo. And it's getting harder every year.

I'm BEGGING Tumblr: you need to start seeing parents as people. The way y'all talk about parenting on here is toxic, and genuinely harmful, and frankly exhausting. You have no idea what the reality of raising kids is like, and you need to shut the entire fuck up.

I had a day off yesterday.

I might get one more before the end of 2023.

I already can't wait. I am so, so, so tired. sigh

(if you actually read this whole rant and even a single word of it resonated for you, please reblog it. I'm tired of never seeing positive posts about parenting while I see negative ones with a bajillion notes.)

#unforth rambles #parenting #momblr #nothing prompted this #i just think about writing posts like this all the time #because the low-level background buzz of how much tumblr hates parents is a constant stressor tbh #and every once and a while i tip over the line end up Writing the Thing #and so here we are again #god i have so much to do today and instead i procrastinate with this #oops

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l3viat8an · 10 months

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fallen simeon is underrated i think n should be talked about more <3

corrupting simeon by fucking him whenever ur alone together for long periods of time, bending him over tables, riding him on the couch, jerking him off while spooning etc, enjoying the sight of seeing feathers fall out his wings in large clumps

simeon, while reasonably upset, simply cant get enough, always running back to u when his sexual urges become too much for him to handle by himself, ur just addictive to him, something he cant help but go back to so he can get more, which in turn speeds up the process leading up to his eventual fall from grace (literally)

hes just lucky that Father is kind n gives him a human body so he can stay w u, instead of letting simeon fall to devildom, cause he wouldnt know what to do if he fell n became a demon n wasnt able to find u again

~ t4t anon

Nsfw + out of context lesson 61 and up spoilers

That’s such a fun way to look at it tho-

Simeon being thankful for his human body because it means he doesn’t have to leave you. And!! And!!- He can indulge in the sins of the flesh as much as he wants without worrying too much.

And the way he’s soooo addicted to your body~ he basically has no shame-

Simeon’s constantly pulling you into hidden corners or little side rooms when you’re out in public, at parties etc- Just to kiss and grind against you. Taking your hand and pressing it over his hard cock, begging you to touch him ‘n telling you just how badly he needs you and how hard it is to control his urges when you’re around.

Saying he doesn’t deserve you, when you get on your knees for him and pull out his cock, giving it a few teasing licks~ before taking it all the way into your mouth. Simeon’s hands grabbing you by your hair and shoving his cock down your throat until you gag-

Simeon mumbling dirty praise “Yes~ ahhh your throat feels so good, my sweet.” Before he bites his lip to keep his own moans muffled. Roughly bucking his hips into your face, relishing in the way you keep gagging around him "You take me so well~"

Ofc if you’d rather he’ll get on his knees for you first!! After all nothing brings him more pleasure then the look on your face whenever he makes you cum. The possibility that you could get caught at any moment not even crossing his mind anymore.

#obey me spoilers #……I ended up off track….again……oops-#tho I have no real regrets :)#t4t anon!#obey me smut #obey me simeon smut #obey me simeon x reader #obey me!#obey me #om!#obmswd #om! smut #om! simeon #om! x reader #obmswd x reader #obmswd smut #obmswd simeon #obey me x reader #roro writes

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quinn-pop · 9 months

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let’s do some autistic meta knight headcanons!! over explaining my interpretation of meta knight yet again wooooo

this orb has NO idea how to talk to people!!! outside of work anyway. a lot of this is partially due to upbringing (suppressing his emotions all the time) but he does not know how to express emotions, like…at all.

this goes into a few things

1. yeah talking is hard. even after figuring out what he wants to communicate he will struggle. conversation can be so overwhelming, especially under pressure. he will need time lol

2. because of that, forming connections is hard. i really don’t think meta is much for shallow relationships, and certainly not early in the timeline. which also means he has very little experience with friendship. so a lot of the relationships he did have went kinda neglected, and issues that probably could’ve been worked on by talking became…*cough romk* escalated.

3. honestly i wouldn’t be surprised if meta convinced himself he couldn’t feel emotion (anymore) until like. katam-ish. he tried very hard lol

vulnerability is terrifying. (though this gesture here is also just comforting, like his little cape cocoon thing he does.)

unmasking—yeah im taking the mask thing very literally here—is a big deal and a very slow process for mk. i’m sure he has a lot of feelings on that lol. it served as a way to ensure no one could ever, y’know, see him.

i can’t say i think he’d ever fully ditch it—there’s always gonna be some days that are more stressful than others and if having it could help him get through it, it just makes sense. mainly when working.

it really is about vulnerability. granted, i don’t think he has the most expressive face (in my head every astral just tends to stare at things) but i doubt he has much control over it. can’t fake a smile but also can’t hide it. probably blushes easy because yeah, astrals; just look at kirby’s face.

just the idea that someone might be able to read his expression and know what he’s feeling before he’s ready for them to (or even understands it himself…) yeah he doesn’t want that

but emotional turmoil aside, i think his mask also hides a lot of his stims

remember that whole “suppressing your feelings” thing? yeah turns out that ignoring half your instincts isn’t a good idea. so in true meta knight style, he tries to stim as subtly as possible

1. he has the least control over his wings, so they will flick and twitch on their own. they’re usually a good indicator of how he’s feeling, not unlike the body language usually seen in cat ears and tails lol. flapping is also an extension of this of course, though he probably suppresses it more.

2. this also effects when he takes his wings out. pretty much every time he’s excited or nervous it just happens. kinda makes me wonder if his wing cape ordeal might also go into the suppression thing… (i’d say yes, but using a cape is also very comforting so it’s not necessarily a bad thing)

3. going back to the mask thing; he stims a lot underneath it. think like biting or pursing your lips. he bites his tongue and clicks his mouth. that sort of thing. his mask also makes it harder to notice that he is constantly sighing, humming, grumbling…all that

one nice thing about the mask though is that it helps a little bit with lights!!! woo

(look at him and his magically floating glasses)

sensory stuff—i think he’s mostly bothered by light and sound. maybe a bit of texture. he’s pretty sensory avoidant and perfectly happy standing off to the side not touching anything.

the one exception to this is physical affection, which is, despite all of this, most of how he shows affection. it’s a lot easier to hug someone than to try to explain your feelings for them, after all.

i think he would like pressure though. so that’s probably part of it. and i’m pretty sure there’s some connection in here to fighting (dang, is that the only way he knows how to get his energy out?)

anyway, pretty much all of this is in contrast to kirby, who i would gladly nominate as the champion of Doing Whatever He Wants. he might pick up a few bad habits, but he will never mask the way meta knight does. he might not understand how he feels, but he’s in tune enough to express it…usually.

this is a very good thing for meta because it helps him to do the same thing. kirby’s so energetic, it’s hard to not want to stim with him. it reminds meta to be kinder to himself and explore his own emotions. he can also help kirby understand themselves, so this connection is very important.

yeah, at the end of the day, everything kinda just boils down to kirby and mk as parallels

this is the conclusion i promise

to me, meta’s arc is about growing stronger by growing kinder, and this is mostly by learning to be kind to himself. letting himself be a person again, loving and understanding other people, and eventually, letting go of all the expectations placed on him and doing the things he’s always wanted to do…

autism headcanons are fun for me because it’s cathartic to write, but at the same time, it just makes sense in this sort of narrative. meta is, to me, inseparable from these things. and so is kirby! that’s a dynamic that’s a lot of fun to play with, and it’s at the heart of my kirby interpretation.

if you actually read all this WOW thank you

#i almost considered not posting this on a wednesday but then i wrote everything and uhhh yeah i think i gotta so #happy cringe day wednesday #for as many notes as i have on these characters i really don’t talk about it much #but meta knight is a special case because i am terrible at subtlety and he wouldn’t be meta knight without it #so this is to contextualize some things #because of what ill have in the next few days haha #basically these are just things i consider when writing meta #but a lot of it is subtextual and i dont know how well it comes across #kirbyposting #kirby #meta knight #headcanons #autism headcanon #this is practically an essay lol oops #i have like 2/3 of a fic that explores most of this in a way i probably won’t do again #but we’ll see if i ever finish it #god kirby concepts are so fun to chew on #i overthink everything i make so much lol

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rhys-writes-some-shit · 3 months

Text

A Long-Awaited Conversation

Alastor x Reader (QP)

A/N: This was initially a very different fic, but I'm not upset with how it turned out. A little bit of angst to make the day better, right?

It was a slow day. Neither you nor Alastor had much to do, so the two of you were sitting in your room, just enjoying each other’s presence. Jazz was playing quietly from an old radio by Alastor, who was doing some paperwork. You were typing away on your laptop, much to Alastor’s dismay. At least it wasn’t VoxTek, he had to give you that.

“Do tell me, my dear: when is a door not a door?” Alastor asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Oh dear,” you sighed, knowing exactly what was coming.

“Oh deer is right!” Alastor replied brightly. “Now then, when is a door not a door?”

Playfully rolling your eyes, you humored him. “I don’t know, Al. Do tell.”

“When it’s a jar!”

You couldn’t deny the snort that the corny joke elicited. Alastor knew you enjoyed his jokes, but it had been a while since he’d gone out of his way to tell you any.

“Well, maybe you know why the cemetery was so popular.” Alastor’s grin was bright and genuine. Setting your laptop aside, you focused on him, smiling fondly.

“I’m afraid I don’t.”

“What a surprise! Didn’t you know people were just dying to get in?” Alastor proceeded to laugh at his own joke.

“I missed this,” you said after a moment. “You were gone for seven years. I really missed this.”

The lighthearted mood turned serious. Alastor’s smile lost some of its light. “My sabbatical was… necessary, dearest. I do regret that you were unable to accompany me.”

You noticed how the music was turned up a bit, masking the sound of your conversation. While it was doubtful anyone was listening in, you knew that Alastor wanted to cover his bases.

“You didn’t even tell me you were leaving.” There was a clear edge in your voice. “I had no idea where you were or how long you’d be gone…” The anger, frustration, and sadness started bubbling in your chest, ready to overflow, out of control. “Seven years, Alastor! Seven fucking years, I didn’t know where you were! I thought you’d left me, Al! Or worse, you died!”

“Dearest,” Alastor tried, but you cut him off.

“No, you don’t get to ‘dearest’ me,” you snapped. “I was alone for seven years. We’re partners, Al. We’re supposed to communicate with each other. I don’t even care what you were doing, I just wanted to know you were alright.” You paused. “Did it have to do with your deal?”

Alastor’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know about that?”

You matched his gaze. “Husk told me. He used to check on me weekly, you know. Thought I deserved to know. Which I did.”

“You don’t get to decide what I should and shouldn’t tell you,” Alastor said sharply.

“No, but you should tell me when you’re going to abandon me!” You were shouting now, standing and staring him down. “You have no idea how much I struggled while you were gone, how much I suffered! You are everything to me, Al! You are my fucking world, and what the hell was I supposed to do when my world up and vanishes?!”

The sound of static filled the room, Alastor gripping the armrests of his chair, leaving deep claw marks.

“I was a fucking mess! All your souls, all your territory, went to me! I’m not an Overlord, Al! I don’t want to be one! Having all that power scared the shit out of me! I was forced to do your job for you, a job I didn’t want to do!” Tears pricked at your eyes as the memories came back in full force. “And then you return suddenly, take up an impossible project, and just expect me to be okay with it? Well, I’m not okay with it! You haven’t been the same since you returned and you won’t fucking talk to me!”

You were gasping for breath when the tears started to fall. You messily wiped them away, still fuming with anger that had built up over the seven years you’d been alone.

“Are you quite finished?” Alastor asked, his smile forced. Standing, his papers vanished, and tucked his arms behind his back. “Clean yourself up. I refuse to talk while you’re being hysterical.”

“Hysterical?! Hysterical?! What the fuck, Al?!” You yelled. “You are such a selfish, pretentious piece of shit!”

With a hum, Alastor disappeared into the shadows, causing you to scream in frustration.

The jazz music had stopped. You were standing, alone, in your room, gasping for air as you stifled sobs.

The day had been going so well. You had to go and fuck it up.

Ten minutes later, you wandered to the lobby, still pissed off, but feeling a little better after crying the most you had in years. Silently, you took a seat at the bar. Husk was there, like always, and immediately started to make you your favorite drink

“Finally give him a piece of your mind?” Husk asked.

“That obvious?” Your voice was hoarse from the shouting.

“I could hear the screaming.” Husk gestured up. “Also, you look like shit, and the last time I saw you like this, it was also about him.”

The drink was placed in front of you, but you just massaged your temples. “I don’t know why I put up with him.”

Husk grabbed a bottle and drank it straight, whatever it was. “Love fucking sucks.”

You sighed, “Husk, we’ve been over this, I don’t love people like that.”

“Sure, maybe not romantically. But you still love him. And it still fucking sucks.”

“That's something, coming from you.” You took a drink, reveling in how the alcohol warmed your body. “Don't think I don't see how you look at Angel.”

Husk glared deeply at you, not denying it. You smirked, taking another drink.

“How do I get him to understand?” You asked quietly, half to yourself. “He’s so fucking narcissistic, I bet he didn’t even think twice about leaving me behind.”

“I couldn’t tell ya’.” Husk shrugged. “I will say, though, that you’re the only person who can actually get through to him. You have that power over him.”

You scoffed. “Like Hell I do.”

“If anyone else speaks to him like you do, they’re dead before they get a chance to think.” Shelving his drink, Husk began to busy himself behind the counter, cleaning some glasses. “Last I checked, you were still kicking.”

Silent, you contemplated Husk’s words. He had a point. If Alastor cared about anyone, it was you. Finishing your drink with another sigh, you stood. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You had to finish this.

“Stick to your guns, kid,” Husk assured. You didn’t have the heart to tell him you’re probably older than him.

“Thanks, Husk. See you soon.”

You remained quiet as you walked up to Alastor’s radio booth. Out of respect for his boundaries, you hardly ever went up there, but this was important. Radio static filled the air the closer you got, confirming that he was indeed in his booth, but the lack of his voice told you he wasn’t recording.

Before you even got the chance to knock, Alastor’s shadow opened the door for you.

“You can come in.”

Alastor was hunched over his desk, writing notes on what was likely a script for an upcoming radio show. His recording booth was a mess, with papers scattered all over the place and claw marks littering every piece of furniture that wasn’t nailed down. The feeling of Alastor’s radio static was heavy, but barely audible as Alastor wrote.

“I would apologize for shouting, but I don’t really feel sorry,” you opened with, arms crossed.

“As you shouldn’t,” Alastor agreed, not even turning towards you. “I will say, I’m surprised you stopped when you did. I’d expected you to go on for much longer.”

You couldn’t help but snort at that remark. “Oh, trust me, there were many versions of that conversation where I went on for about half an hour.” You left out saying that you had seven years to formulate them, thinking that would only make the situation worse.

“I don’t doubt you.” After a moment, Alastor sighed, setting down his pen and sitting back in his chair. You can see the reflection of his face in the glass. His smile is still there, but barely, and his eyes seem tired. Husk was right, you did make an impression.

Alastor turned towards you, leaning his head into one hand while he tapped his fingers along his microphone staff. He still never met your eyes. “You… are correct.”

Silent, you waited for Alastor to continue, watching him closely.

“I should not have left you without saying anything. I regret not speaking with you before I left.” You could tell he was struggling to get his words out. Emotions were hard for him, be it by nature or by choice, so you remained patient. “I left… to keep you safe.”

Hoping your surprise wasn’t evident on your face, you found a chair and pulled it up in front of him. The tension in your shoulders lessened when Alastor took your hand, holding it gently.

“Had I not taken my absence, you would’ve been in danger. Danger I’d be unable to protect you from. I could not take that chance.” Alastor finally looked up at you. He was still guarded, still holding himself back, but there was something warm in the way he looked at you. A soft side, that only you had the privilege to see. “If something happened to you, I would be unable to live with myself. So I left, because it was the only way to ensure you would remain safe.”

A hand reached up and grazed your cheek, wiping away a tear you hadn’t even realized was on your face.

“It was the only way, my darling. I wish it hadn’t come to that. And I am ashamed that I hurt you so much in my absence.”

You were at a loss for words. Alastor had never, never, opened himself up like that. It was a little scary. Part of you wished he’d just brushed off the argument and pretended it had never happened. At least that would’ve matched what you’d expected. This… this was not at all what you’d expected.

Blinking, your heart rate picked up against your will. “Al, I… Th-thank you for the apology, I… This… is scaring me, Al. You’re scaring me. Are you okay? This isn’t like you.”

Alastor’s hand left your face. “You are correct in saying that I am not the same man I once was. I continue to hope I will revert back to who I was, but I can see now that that’s impossible. You, dearest, are the only thing making that revelation bearable.”

As your heart beat against your chest, you struggled to evaluate your next move. You wanted to scramble away, to beg for the old Alastor back, but you knew that wasn’t the right move. You knew this was the actual, real Alastor in front of you and not some sort of imposter. The idea that the old Alastor had vanished the day you were left on your own did not sit well with you. Frankly, it made you sick.

But now was not the time. Right now, Alastor needed you, as fucked up as it seemed.

Exhaling forcefully, you took hold of Alastor’s hands this time. “Thank you for coming back. Whatever it is that’s going on, we’ll deal with it together. Like always. I’m your partner, Al, and I’m not leaving anytime soon, got it?”

Alastor nodded, closing his eyes for a second. When he opened them again, his spark had returned. His smile grew once more and he stood, pulling you to his chest.

“Well! Now that that’s settled, how about a dance, my dear? It has been quite a while since we’ve had the chance to cut a rug together.”

With the snap of Alastor’s fingers, some jazz filled the room and the disheveled furniture was shoved against the ways to make room. Mustering your own smile, you placed your hand in his and allowed him to lead you around the room in time with the music.

It was nice to dance, you had to admit, but the abrupt change left a bad feeling in your stomach. Something was not right. In fact, something felt wrong. But now was not the time for that. Hiding behind your smile as skillfully as Alastor himself, you went along with his antics.

But the sinking feeling of dread remained.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #rhys-writes #alastor x reader queerplatonic #hazbin hotel alastor #2k words what am I on?#wrote instead of doing my hw again oops #alastor has a mental breakdown off screen #queerplatonic #queerplatonic x reader

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zer0pm · 1 year

Text

Imagine waking up with Luis sleeping on top of you while you both take shelter from the storm.

Warning: suggestive content 🤫

A/N: editted for mistakes and added upon by just a little for your reading pleasure ;) thanks for your time

“Think it’s safe?”

“Only one way to find out. ¡Vamos! Into certain danger we go!”

You pinch the bridge of your nose and groan. This man’s optimism was breathtaking, confident in his strides towards the abandoned looking house that you two discovered. You follow behind him, careful in your own steps and had your gun drawn at the ready in case of any unfriendly encounters. Thankfully, your entrance went unanswered and after a thorough search of the building, you both confirm that the coast is clear. Finally, a safe space to squat and wait out the storm.

Sighing in relief, you didn’t realize how exhausted you were until you took a seat on a rickety wooden chair in what you assumed to be the remains of a dining area. Running around avoiding countless plaga in the pouring rain took a lot of your energy and your weary state did not go unnoticed.

Luis speaks addresses you. “Why don’t you take a rest, my friend? There is a bed upstairs. I do not think the owners will mind it.”

Your brow lifts upon reflex, tempted by the idea of laying on something soft after hours of running for your life. However, the consideration of well-being for your present company outweighed your desire to address your own. So you counter him, “And what about you? You look just as bad as I do.”

The man dismisses your suggestion with a wave of his hand, “I’ll keep watch. Make sure no scary monsters come bumping in the night. No te preocupes, I’ll be fine.”

Always the gentleman this one.

Still, you weren’t going to let him get away with it. Especially at the sight of the dark circles beneath his eyes. Chivalry be damned. You take a moment to absorb your dusty surroundings and listen closely to the weather. The two of you were lucky to even find this place amidst the pouring rain and you were certain there wouldn’t be any uninvited guests coming in to hack you both into pieces anytime soon with how bad this storm is raging.

“Pretty sure we’re safe here, Luis. Can’t see anything in this damn rain and place looks like it hasn’t been occupied in ages. Plus, with Leon Kennedy roaming about, think Saddler is commanding his minions to focus more on him than us.” You wave your finger around the air, figuratively drawing the argument back at him. “So if you need some shut-eye too, I was told there’s a bed upstairs.”

Luis chuckles breathlessly, evidently amused at how you effectively countered him. He then hums aloud, seemingly taking your reasoning with careful consideration before a coy smile curves upon his handsome face.

“Qué lindo. So stubborn just to get me to lie with you.”

The color drains from your face in an instant.

“Now hold on a minute-“

The man cuts you off with a rambunctious laugh. “You’re much too easy to tease, my friend. Very well, then. You win!” he says with an affirmative clap before making his way to the stairs. Halfway up, he stops in his tracks to look down at you. “Well? You coming?”

You wait to see if he would follow up with further teasing. When he didn’t, you wordlessly got up from the chair and joined him. As he said, there is indeed a bed on the far wall of the room. Like the rest of the house, it looks like it had seen better days but neither of you were in a position to be picky especially when sleep was beckoning. You approach the bed and lift the sheets off, dusting as much as you can before setting it back down and doing the same for the pillows. The bed was big enough for two people, so it should be fine to share without worrying about bumping into one another in your sleep.

“There,” you huff, satisfied with how you prepared the bed. “Is there a side you prefe-“

Your voice catches in your throat when you turn around and take in the sight of Luis’ bare back. It was only when you see him fidgeting with the zipper of his pants did you find it again.

“What are you doing?!” you practically screech.

The dark-haired man glances casually at you over his broad shoulder, not at all bothered by your sharp tone.

“What does it look like? I’m making myself comfortable,” shrugs Luis. “I suggest you do the same. You’ll get sick if you sleep in wet clothes.”

The desire to argue for the sake of arguing was strong, but you found yourself distracted by his physique. For a man who claims to be just a “simple researcher”, he is pretty cut. The definitions of his muscles are both impressive and pleasing to the eye. It didn’t help that the man is devilishly good-looking as well, not that you will ever say that out loud. The man’s ego was big enough as it is.

If you were taking too long to speak up, Luis didn’t say. He turned his head away from your direction. “I won’t look, prometo. And I’ll take the left side. Muchas gracias.”

A man of his word, Luis did not once look your way as he wordlessly went to his side of the bed and slips himself beneath the sheets. After a moment of inner conflict, you heed his advice and strip yourself down to your underwear as well, taking your clothes and his to hang off the stair railing. Finally reaching the bed, you see that Luis was still lying on his side. The heavy breathing your ears pick up suggests that he’s fast asleep. Although your heart was beating frantically, you settle under the covers as well. Your form mirroring his with your back towards him. Sleep came quickly.

You’re not sure how much time has passed when you woke up, you only know that it is still storming outside… and Luis Serra is on top of you.

His whole body is practically draped over yours. He partially lied with his chest both against the bed and on your side. The heavy weight of his right arm was wrapped around your middle with his hand resting almost possessively on your hip. You can feel his breath fan against your neck, leaving warm, lingering tingles upon your skin. It suddenly felt impossibly hot in this chilly room.

You didn’t need to see the man’s face to know he is still sleeping, snoring soundly against your ear. Careful not to wake him, you tried to move away. However, the moment you fidgeted, Lus stirs and his hand moves from your hip to your shoulder, effectively keeping you in place.

Well, then. This is awkward.

The idea of waking him up came to mind but you thought better against it. Why embarrass you both and deny the other some meaningful rest? That was the excuse you came up with as you feel the man nuzzle against your neck and shoulder. The scratch of his facial hair feeling wonderful against your skin. An involuntary sigh of pleasure escapes your mouth and you had to bite your bottom lip to stop more from coming out. You needed to pull yourself together. The man is sleeping, for god’s sake, and here you were, getting hot and bothered.

Just as you were about to accept your situation with grace, you feel Luis move once more. Followed by a lethargic groan, he twists until he is on his back, withdrawing his hand from your person until it rested on his sculpted abdomen. His eyes are still closed. His expression is peaceful, absent of the coquettish mask he usually wears. The man looks impossibly beautiful like this and you found yourself reaching a curious hand towards his face. You manage to stop right before his cheek, mesmerized by his sleeping form. If lives weren’t on the line, you’d watch him forever.

“How long have you been awake?”

The sound of his thick accent made you jolt, retreating your hand back to your side. You almost thought you were imagining Luis’ voice until your eyes catch the flutter of his lashes. Grey eyes peeking in your direction.

Unable to think of anything better to say, you candidly answer back, “How long have you?”

The Spaniard grins wryly. “Tocado. Point taken.”

He turns his head, his expression telling that the man is well-rested and now focused entirely on you. There was something in his eyes that you cannot place. Or more accurately, there was an emotion within them that you recognized all too well as you were certain you had the same burning in yours but dared not to acknowledge our loud. You mimic his movements, ensnared by his magnetic gaze. When he turned his body so that he was completely facing you, you did the same. Neither of you have broken eye contact. In the corner of your vision, you see him lift his hand until it hovered over your hip at the exact same spot it was before. Luis doesn’t lower it, however, his eyes silently asking for your permission. A slight nod from you was the sign he was waiting for and you are graced by his warm touch once more.

His thumb caresses soft patterns against your hip bone, teasing the skin beneath the band of your underwear. Your breath hitches, his subtle touches already stirring something fierce inside you.

“¡Mierda! Don’t make that face.” the man growls, wearing a serious, pained expression. You blink in confusion. Instead of elaborating right away, Luis earnestly squeezes your hip, earning a wanton gasp from your mouth, and pulls you in against him by the curve of your back.

“If you keep looking at me like that, mi amor,” he says through gritted teeth, his hot breath mingling with yours. “I won’t be able to savor you slowly.”

That undid you.

You weren’t sure which of you two closed the distance. While the storm was pouring freezing rain outside, you and Luis kept one another plenty warm inside.

A/N: Thanks for reading. You can find the next (Rated M) part here ;)

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spacedace · 1 year

Text

The Spirit of Gotham's form changes over time to reflect people who are significant and important to the city, in particular people who embody some aspect of the city who have died.

The Spirit of Gotham's current form shifts between Thomas and Martha Wayne.

(Additionally I had the idea that the Spirit of Gotham actually absorbs the ghosts of these people upon death, so that her personality subtly changes as they become apart of her. This is one reason amongst many that she has such particular love for Bruce and his many birds.)

(Additionally additionally: Danny visits Gotham and while there working with Batman & Co ends up needing to talk with the Spirit of Gotham. Bruce is not prepared for just who is looking at him when Phantom makes the City Spirit visible to him.)

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #batman #danny phantom #dp x dc writing prompt #spirit of gotham #gotham's spirit #martha wayne #thomas wayne #oops i made angst again didn't i #in my defense it could also end up being sweet

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whitehairandblood · 1 year

Text

Whumpee stands in the kitchen, barefoot. Their long hair splays over their shoulders and down their back, falling into their face. They don't bother to tie it up.

It's longer than they're used to. They never let it grow out this much before Whumper captured them. It's unruly, hard to take care of and maintain, and way too much trouble than it's worth. Whumper has expressed their dislike for it several times already, but they haven't made an attempt at cutting it yet. It seems they're allowing at least this small piece of Whumpee to remain untouched.

It's not like Whumpee would even let them cut it. There's not a lot they're willing to fight over anymore, but as ridiculous as it makes them feel, Whumpee knows their hair remains one of those things. The last piece of themself that remains theirs alone.

They busy themself with preparing breakfast- or, rather, dinner. Whumper's nocturnal lifestyle forces Whumpee to stay awake during the night and sleep in the day just as Whumper does, every aspect of their new life catered to their captor. Whumpee can't remember the last time they'd seen the sun, other than those few precious times Whumper let them watch the sunrise before bed- or the sunset, if Whumpee managed to get up early enough.

This is one of those rare occasions. Whumper was still sound asleep when Whumpee left the room, heading straight for the kitchen. Whumper allowed them free reign of their stupid big house, apparently entirely confident that Whumpee couldn't even find their way out, let alone escape.

Making food remains another one of those things Whumpee has yet to lose control over. The thought of Whumper, almighty and powerful, being incapable of making even a grilled cheese sandwich to keep Whumpee alive never ceases to amuse them. It makes him feel a little bit more human, even if Whumpee knows otherwise.

The sunlight that previously illuminated the kitchen grows weaker by the minute. Whumpee shudders when the air grows colder, suddenly regretting not putting on socks before they left the bedroom.

Another shiver runs up their spine at the thought of that wretched room. Bedtime always comes with a sort of silent dread, one that eats Whumpee up from the inside as the days go on. Whumper always draws the blackout curtains before the Sun could even begin to rise, and Whumpee has begun to dread each and every morning. How ironic, to hate the very thing they yearn for.

Their thoughts come to a screeching halt, their hands stilling when they feel a presence behind them. Their breathing stutters for a moment before they force it to go back to normal. They keep their head lowered, allowing the long curtain of hair to shield their face from Whumper's view.

Whumper's cold hand settles on their shoulder, slowly moving up the side of their neck. Their fingers trace over the raised web of scar tissue, pausing to push gently on the twin puncture marks at the very center. Whumpee supresses a wince.

"How many times do I have to tell you," Whumper murmurs, leaning close to Whumpee's ear, "to keep your hair out of my way?"

Whumpee's hands grip the counter's edge, shoulders raising.

"I hate it when you do that."

Whumper chuckles. Their hand moves further up, fingers running through the hair at the nape of Whumpee's neck.

"Do what?"

"Sneak up behind me. You know I hate it."

"And I hate it when you ignore my questions."

They're forced to press their hips into the edge of the counter as Whumper crowds close. Whumpee flinches when a hand appears in the corner of their eye, but then it moves fully into view, and Whumpee sucks in a breath.

Whumper's offer of the hairtie feels entirely too casual. Too innocent.

"Tie it up."

Whumpee hesitates.

"I-I'm.. Whumper, I'm making breakfast. Just give me a minute. I haven't eaten anything today."

Whumper's hand on the back of their neck tightens, and this time, Whumpee can't hold back the wince it elicits.

"Neither have I. Tie it up."

Whumpee dips their head. Their grip on the counter's edge turns white-knuckled.

"Please.." they whisper, half hoping Whumper wouldn't hear. "Just give me a damn minute."

Whumper's breath ghosts against their neck as they laugh.

"My, my. Got up on the wrong side of the bed, did you?"

Whumper's hand buries itself into the hair at the nape of Whumpee's neck, tugging hard to wrench their head back. Whumpee hisses, grabbing around blindly until their hand finds Whumper's wrist. They can see Whumper's grin from the corner of their eye.

"You don't get to make requests, Hunter." Whumper hisses into their ear, "Not anymore. Not when you pointed that gun at me, and especially not now. Seems like you need a reminder of where, exactly, you belong."

Whumpee grits their teeth, squeezing their eyes shut against the tears that threaten to fall. Their scalp feels like it's on fire, every nerve screaming at them to relieve the pressure before Whumper could rip their hair clean out. Their hands scrabble at Whumper's own.

"Fuck! Whumper, don't! Not yet, please not yet, I'm sorry, please just wait- ARGH!"

Sharp teeth slice into Whumpee's neck without warning. Their hands claw at Whumper's desperately, tears sliding down their face as the pain blossoms in their neck into something unbearable. Their breathing grows frantic. Whumper's lips are cold against their skin, and Whumpee tries their best to ignore the sickening feeling of their blood leaving their body.

Whumpee's hands start to tremble. One of them falls down to grip the counter again when a wave of dizziness washes over them. Their voice comes out breathier than they would have liked.

"Whumper, please. Th-that's enough.."

Whumper pulls away for only a moment, murmuring into Whumpee's skin to "Stay quiet" before biting down again, rougher this time. Whumpee strangles a whine in their throat.

They lose track of time after that. They come to when Whumper's teeth suddenly dislodge from their neck, Whumpee nearly falling over when Whumper's grasp on their hair disappears. They raise a shaking hand to their neck to try and stop the bloodflow, fighting the creeping nausea that makes their world spin.

Something small and light lands on the counter next to their hand. Whumpee's eyes drift slowly over to the hairtie, a scowl appearing on their face.

Whumper's hand lands on top of their head, fingers running through the strands. Whumpee shivers at the sensation.

"Pull something like this again and I might just cut it all off for you."

Whumpee shuts their eyes, slumping onto the countertop. They don't fight Whumper's touch as their eyes begin to slip closed.

"... I hate you."

#this got away from me (oops)#a writes #whump writing #vampire whumper #creepy whumper #whump #i see we're enjoying vampired again :)

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damn-it-a-hogwarts-legacy-blog · 7 months

Text

Making Amends

AO3 Link

Ominis and MC have an argument. Make-up sex follows, and Ominis unlocks a new kink.

Ominis x fem!MC

NSFW—sexual content

We always talk about how Ominis loves to take the lead and give praise in bed, but not nearly enough about how he definitely loves to receive it, too. :)

Word count: 5,998

A/N: You don’t wanna know how long this has been sitting in my drafts 😭

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Rays of golden morning sun shone through steam that rose languidly from the delicate teacup sitting before Ominis on the breakfast table. It was his third cup of coffee, and the side of his head remained propped up by his hand as the undertow of sleep threatened to pull him back down.

Ominis had risen from bed a few hours prior with immense reluctance. He had longed to stay hidden beneath the warm blankets, nestled beside MC, gently planting sleepy, affectionate kisses on her bare skin to wish her good morning. He had smiled against her sweet-smelling neck and had drawn her delicate hips against his own. With tenderness, he had raised her leg, supporting it beneath her knee, and drew her even closer. His hand had moved up her soft, warm thigh, eliciting joyful giggles from his wife as she had tangled her arms and legs around his own naked body. He had gently thrust against her once, and his breath had fluttered at the enticing pleasure it sparked. He had felt sorely tempted to make love to her right then and there; it had been so long since they had been given the opportunity, and he wished dearly to abandon the rest of the day for the sake of making her moan his name. But the outside world called, and he had work to which he needed to attend.

Ominis had dressed in a neatly-pressed, white button-down shirt under a handsome dark gray vest and matching trousers, and as he languished there in the sunlight next to his coffee, his flawlessly coiffed flaxen hair put the morning rays outside to shame. The sun struck his sightless, icy blue eyes and made them positively glow. His pale skin felt warm under the sun’s touch, and it only lulled him further.

Ominis had not so much as touched the Daily Prophet or Daily Telegraph sitting next to him on the table where MC always left them for him to peruse. He had partly started in on his breakfast when he abandoned his silverware to listen to his beloved wife sluggishly make her way to the table to join him.

"Still utterly exhausted, I see." MC couldn't help but feel a rush of affection as she gazed at her drowsy husband. She moved to take a seat across from him at their little breakfast table, planting a kiss on his head as she passed. Ominis gave an affirmative hum and reached out to brush her with the back of his hand in lieu of making eye contact. He felt his favorite blouse of hers—the white one with the ruffles going down the front and the subtle little lace floral designs in the cuffs—and her pretty, black floor-length skirt with the white stripe running along the hem, which he loved to touch. His heart fluttered every time she wore that outfit; it always meant she was trying to cheer him up.

MC, too, wished to be back in bed with her husband. He was irresistibly handsome in his shirt and vest, but MC preferred him most when he was naked and thrusting into her with those adorable little grunts he made, or had his head between her thighs when he roughly pulled her to the edge of their bed. She had seen the mournful expression on his face when he had finally untangled himself from her and pushed off the covers to get ready for the day, and she ached to watch him leave their perfect nest in his saddened state. After he left, she lingered in bed long enough to slip her fingers between her legs and imagine what might have been. It had been better than nothing, but she was still left desperately needing her husband's touch and feeling, in her own words, quite empty.

MC eyed Ominis' plate and spread some preserves on a piece of toast for him, hoping she could encourage him to eat a bit more. His expression brightened by half a degree in interest at the sound of the toast being placed in front of him.

"Strawberry—your favorite," MC murmured cheerfully. Ominis' thanks was groggy, and he began to eat. He slowly blinked as he enjoyed the preserves and listened to MC with her own meal. She tried to suppress a few yawns that flared in her diaphragm, but knew Ominis could hear her deep inhales. He smiled and felt around for her forearm resting on the table, sweeping over it with his thumb in empathy.

"I'm going to hazard a guess that you haven't read either paper yet." MC shifted eagerly to stave off the sleep that was now threatening to overtake them both.

"Mmh... can't say I have much energy for reading at the moment, I’m afraid," Ominis mumbled through his toast. "Why? Is the Ministry going to have to obliviate more muggles for yet another escaped dugbog like last week?" he scoffed.

"Very funny," MC smiled wryly. She reached over to take both papers. "The Prophet is reporting the unexplained disappearance of another Dolohov last night... And the Telegraph's headline is about another mysterious explosion in the East End with one person unaccounted for."

Ominis groaned as he finished the last of his toast, sat back and slowly rubbed his face with his hands. "I wish the Ministry didn't allow them to print such hysterics... And that explosion was not my fault."

"Of course not," MC smirked. "But at least we get some recognition."

"The Ministry's protection of us is enough acknowledgement," Ominis reproached. "I don't like the attention of newspaper articles."

"I understand.” MC let out a sigh, a hint of frustration casting its shadow at his stubbornness. “It's just that even a simple 'thank you' would be appreciated. We risk life and limb so they don't have to admit they're officially involved in exterminating dark wizards. The Prophet at least recognizes it was a drawn-out conflict, and the Telegraph mentions all that blood," MC offered as she gently refolded the papers and placed them back at Ominis' side. "You'll never find a single official at the Ministry who would even acknowledge half that blood was mine after one of those blasted wizards struck me in the side. The Ministry is lucky you knew the right healing spells. They would be quite put out to learn they'd killed their only ancient magic user." MC rolled her eyes.

"Again: the ministry’s thanks is their continued upholding of our dangerous, off-the-record agreement with them,” Ominis reprimanded. “And it’s only a game for the papers. They don't know or care about us... about how completely terrified I was for you as you were nearly exsanguinated in front of me last night—you almost couldn't tell me what to do to help you. Those papers simply want to print something that will encourage people talking about a lurid affair that will be forgotten as soon as Spavin makes another joke in poor taste, or the Queen has another—what was it—diamond jubilee? I worry that it becomes a game for you, too, frankly. You speak of that wound as if it were nothing, and you seem to enjoy attention being drawn to us." Ominis felt some surprise at how harsh his tone sounded on his lips. In the depths of his exhaustion, his usual self control had slipped away, amplifying his frustration with each passing moment.

MC frowned at him. "I’m perfectly fine this morning. It was nothing a bit of your spellcasting and some dittany couldn’t fix. I’ve suffered much worse... And why should I not take this as a point of pride? It isn't as if anyone will ever know it was us. I fail to see the trouble with enjoying some harmless recognition."

"Need I remind you why we are even stuck in this arrangement in the first place? Have you forgotten that recognition is exactly the opposite reason for why we spend all night in the pouring rain and freezing snow, in the middle of desolate fields and London slums, risking our identities to muggles and being forced to employ abilities neither of us are particularly keen to have? Because I certainly remember all of that in the morning when I’ve only managed three or four hours of sleep and still have to maintain my waking life." Ominis was now standing, his eyes glinting sharply as he gesticulated and his voice bordered on a shout. “There is a good reason the Ministry only took us on as a personal favor after excessive convincing.”

"And how could I have forgotten any of that?" MC sat back in her chair, and her eyes narrowed. Tears stung at her eyes hearing his harsh voice, and she fiercely wiped at them. "Neither of us wanted our ancient magic or Parseltongue to be reduced to mere Ministry tools, but you're being paranoid of them finding us again. All I wanted was to find some glimmer of light in an otherwise horrible night that has left me just as exhausted."

Her words pierced Ominis’ heart.

"I’m paranoid? Of my family finding us?" Ominis laughed coldly. "The same people insane enough to use the cruciatus curse on their own son? The entire reason everyone at the Ministry was too frightened to protect us before I threatened them? The ones who have done their best to thwart that protection at every turn for the opportunity to torture my wife and do only Merlin knows what else to her before deigning to give both of us a slow and painful death… All because I dared marry an outsider instead of marrying one of my cousins for the ridiculous notion of preserving the blood of a founder of Hogwarts? Perhaps you ought to reconsider your words."

"And I suppose the Gaunts suddenly have the ability to divine what was our doing?” MC spat. “Be reasonable. Nobody will ever know it was us. The Ministry will tell Scotland Yard to report a faulty stove or a rogue lamp as the culprit last night and the world will move on. Really, I wish you would learn to enjoy the rare silver linings we are afforded instead of constantly worrying yourself to death."

"Be reasonable—I… I cannot continue this discussion right now," Ominis' eyes narrowed in her direction. "I'm getting a headache and I need to lie down. We can resume this later."

MC opened her mouth to object, but her better judgment finally stopped her before she could inflict damage yet again. She merely glared as she watched him pick up his wand and turn to leave, wiping again at tears that threatened to spill over. The moment the door closed behind him, MC felt her heart sink. She sighed as regret crept into her mind, sinking its sharp claws into her thoughts.

Ominis lay on his back on the bed. His hand was draped over his face in frustration as he tried, and failed, to sleep. He had been up until three o'clock in the morning and could not bear the thought of working now. His head had already been aching from the lack of sleep, but it was only getting worse the longer he felt the stress of his argument with MC. Her accusation of paranoia had cut him deeply, yet despite his best efforts, he felt the burning coal of anger in his gut fizzle out pitifully as he lay in silence. His heart ached as he lay over the same bedding under which he and MC had nearly made love mere hours earlier, his emotions a tumultuous mixture of frustration and longing.

He was unaware how much time had passed when he heard the bedroom door handle turn.

"Ominis, darling?" came MC's soft voice from the doorway. He heard the brushing of her long skirt against the carpeted floor and a portion of the bed sank beneath her weight. Her small hand caressed the side of his head.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "You must be so exhausted after we arrived home so late last night. I shouldn't have been upset with you like that."

Ominis remained still beneath her hand. "I fear for us... for you," he replied. "If I am paranoid for that, then so be it." He frowned, his voice turning dejected and slightly bitter.

"Oh darling," MC gently stroked her thumb along his cheekbone in an attempt to ease the hardened expression on his face. "You aren’t. Anyone would be afraid of the Gaunts... I'm afraid of them, too—whether I would like to admit it or not. I’m not immune to their threats, and I would do well to remember not to be dismissive of either of our fears. I'm sorry." She leaned down to touch her trembling lips to his cheek and rub his shoulder, and his expression softened.

Ominis looked thoughtful for a moment, then pushed himself up to a sitting position to gather her in his arms. He buried his face in her shoulder and sighed heavily. MC returned the gesture and pressed the side of her face into his sweet-smelling hair. She was all too familiar with his tense embrace: it was the embrace of a frightened boy who wanted desperately not to lose the girl he loved. She gently stroked his back and hushed him, just as she did in school.

"I don't like our situation, either," MC finally continued. "It’s true that I get to wake up next to the love of my life each and every day, and all our tribulations are such a small price to pay for that—but I still don't enjoy the long nights out."

"Or the danger." Ominis' hand skimmed MC's side where he had frantically healed her the night before with tears in his eyes, barely able to keep himself together long enough to perform the healing incantation once, let alone thrice. "I should be providing you with a more peaceful life. I want to spend the night making love to my beautiful wife—not narrowly saving her from death." His hands gently grasped the back of her blouse, and he buried his face deeper.

"Ominis," MC whispered as she squeezed him. "None of this is your fault. I won't have you blaming yourself."

"I'm just so tired. All the time. I wish we could be free from this horrible mess," he said miserably. “I wish my family would leave us be.”

"Perhaps someday," MC whispered. "I am truly sorry for what I said. You are right to be worried about the Gaunts finding us. And I should not take you for granted as I did."

"I am still a bit upset with you... but thank you," Ominis mumbled.

MC leaned against him, caressing his back with a tender touch. "I understand," she whispered.

Ominis leaned back with MC until he was comfortably reclined against their pillows with MC held tightly on his chest. A few of his fingers combed through her hair as he sighed heavily.

"May we start the day over? I'd gladly take an opportunity to redeem myself," MC said meekly.

Ominis hummed in thought. "I think that would be fair. It would be much easier if I weren't so tired, but—"

"You're still worried about the newspapers reporting on what we did last night?" MC asked.

Ominis nodded, and he felt MC lift herself up. It was now his turn to feel tears well until a few spilled over, and MC softly kissed them away.

"Do you remember our wedding night?" MC murmured as she traced Ominis' hairline from the top of his forehead down to his ear before delicately tracing a line across his jaw.

Ominis sniffled once and smiled faintly. "How could I forget?" He reached up to pull MC nearer, and she obliged him. He wrapped his arms around the small of MC's back and slowly breathed in the light floral perfume that lingered at her neck.

"Do you remember how happy we were—how we felt as if nothing could touch us here in this room, just the two of us?" MC's gaze wandered over her husband's lovely features as she spoke, recalling every inch of skin as she had remembered it on the first night in their bed.

"Yet we were in a great deal of danger because your family was looking for us—and very close to finding us.” MC's smile faltered ever so slightly, her eyes turning sorrowful despite her lips, still curved upward. "But in that moment, all that mattered was that we had one another. We were happy and unburdened, despite everything that loomed over us."

MC sat up once again and demurely traced little shapes into Ominis' chest.

"All I need right now is that feeling… I can't make the danger go away, but we can start our day over doing what we should have done all along. Perhaps it will take your mind off things for a while. I want to see you happy and preoccupied with something other than our troubles.”

Ominis' eyes still looked heavy and forlorn, but he smiled in spite of himself.

"Perhaps a fresh start to the day is something I need," Ominis mused. “I certainly wouldn't want to spend it anywhere but here."

"Then kiss me," MC whispered.

She straddled Ominis’ hips and leaned down. He craned his neck to meet her and was rewarded with a tug at his lower lip. The melodies of his wife quietly giggling danced upon his ears, and the sounds of each kiss lightened his heart. Every touch of her lips eased muscles Ominis didn’t know were tensed, and his face melted into a blissful, sleepy smile. It felt as if it had been ages since they last kissed—truly, meaningfully, kissed for more than the simple ritual of acknowledgement—and Ominis’ starvation for more made itself known as it leapt in his throat.

Ominis’ hand snaked around MC’s waist, and every place his hand touched melted away days of tension from her body. She had missed this without even realizing it was absent from her life. She had been going to sleep every night in her bed, in her house, yet it had been days since she had felt truly at home. She reached a hand up to tangle her fingers in Ominis’ hair, and he melted into a lovestruck puddle as she massaged firm circles into his scalp. Her tongue shyly pushed past Ominis’ lips, and he welcomed it as his own tongue began a slow dance around hers. Their teeth awkwardly clicked together once, and they couldn’t help but laugh at themselves. MC trailed her lips across Ominis’ cheek, peppering his jaw with enthusiastic little kisses. She found that she missed his lips too greatly, however, and quickly returned to them.

"Mmf—good morning to you, too," Ominis slurred.

She gently bit his lower lip again and hummed. "Have I ever told you how devastatingly beautiful and sweet you are?" MC murmured.

"Only about ten thousand times since we met," Ominis replied with a faint smile between kisses. "I only I hope I get to tell you the same thing at least ten thousand times more... and that I can live up to your impression of me," he quietly added as his hands weakly slipped and he tried to turn away.

MC slowly broke away and looked down at Ominis. His angelic face bore a small, plaintive frown, and his hands curled against his chest.

"Darling," MC murmured, concerned. She tucked a loose strand of Ominis' hair behind his ear and watched his eyes momentarily brim. "What's wrong, my beautiful serpent?"

"I'm sorry," Ominis mumbled. He forced a smile and tried to reach for MC, but she remained still.

"If it's about what I said earlier, I do hope you'll tell me," MC pleaded. She held one of his hands and gently kissed the back of it.

Ominis hesitantly bit his lower lip. "I... know it was just an argument, but I still worry that I’m not a competent husband. I’m always worried about my family finding you, and I don’t know if I could protect you if they did… I don’t know if I’m worthy of your praise.”

MC sighed and held his hand tight in both of her own. "Ominis, you are worthy of so much more than I could ever express in a lifetime. You are the most beautiful man I have ever met. You’re so intelligent and kind, and I could never expect you to fight off your entire family for me… we would do that together.”

MC smiled and stroked Ominis’ cheek with her thumb. Ominis made a few sighs through his nose, his eyes flicking in thought, but he did not speak.

"You're very brave, especially considering what you’ve endured from your family," MC continued, running her fingers through Ominis’ hair. “I’m so proud of you for how much you’ve recovered since we first met.”

MC leaned forward and kissed Ominis on his nose. He flinched in surprise with a little smile, then slowly draped his arms over her neck. He felt a strange, comforting warmth flutter to life in his chest each time she spoke.

“More, please,” Ominis whimpered.

MC made a thoughtful hum, then pressed her weight down upon his chest and hips. She began kissing every inch of Ominis’ skin that was within her reach, and he groaned softly.

“You’re such a perfect man,” MC murmured into his skin. She took hold of one of his hands, now palm-up on the bed, and clasped her fingers around it to claim it as hers. “You always know just how to make me feel like the luckiest girl in the world.”

Ominis sighed dreamily, and MC could feel him firming up beneath her small hip. She shifted her hips and listened to his voice catch in his throat.

“…and you are the most perfect husband for which I could ever ask.”

“If it's not impertinent, please—tell me why,” Ominis sighed.

MC chuckled and sat up. Her fingertips wandered across Ominis’ chest and up to the buttons of his vest and the shirt underneath. Slowly undoing each button, she spoke softly as she worked. “You have only the most gorgeous body. Your lips speak such kind and soft words… and those lips feel so good—on both my mouth and my body.”

Ominis sighed and traced delicate circles around the vertebrae in her neck, her perfume now swirling hypnotically in his head. His arms swept down to her back, and he relished her delicate frame. He always loved compliments from her, but he felt something… new stirring in his heart when she spoke now, and he needed more of it.

When MC had finished with every button she could find, she pushed open his shirt and vest to reveal the soft, light skin beneath. Her hands skated over every inch, tracing his subtle pectoral muscles with her thumbs and fluttering her fingertips down his sides.

“Such a beautiful body,” MC sighed. “I’m so turned on by the mere sight of it.”

The drowsy grin that spread, ever so crooked, across Ominis' angelic face was nearly enough to make her heart stop. She took his hands and held them up to let him follow along with what she was doing as she slowly unbuttoned her blouse. He delicately toyed with the ruffles at the blouse's front that he loved so much until they slipped from his grip as MC removed the garment. Ominis couldn’t help his small sigh of longing.

His fingers excitedly danced around hers as she next unlaced her corset. She allowed Ominis to hook a finger in the string and pull, feeling it come loose.

“Like unwrapping the world's best Christmas gift,” Ominis said, color rising in his cheeks and his breath ebbing and flowing more dramatically.

When she took the corset away, Ominis busied himself with investigating which chemise she was wearing underneath. His fingertips probed and gently prodded at her, making her sigh, and he found that it was the tiny one with the square neck. His mouth went slightly dry, and he sensually caressed the fabric.

MC quickly undid the waist of her skirt, and Ominis was all too happy to help push it down over her hips and thighs. It was quickly abandoned on the bed, and MC was left in nothing more than the little chemise.

Ominis groaned and slid his hands up underneath the chemise. His fingers grazed her small hips and came to rest at her waist, trying his best to hold onto whatever shred of self-control he still had.

Ominis tried to tug at the edges of the chemise, but she wriggled away and laughed softly. "Patience, my love," MC whispered. "You've been so good for me so far."

She busied herself with the button on his trousers and pulled them off his legs while Ominis groaned. She could have taken less than a second to pull them off, and it still would have taken less than a second too long. When she finished, she sat back and admired Ominis as he lay beneath her, his handsome body now completely bare for her. Ominis’ chest was smooth and warm, and despite his deep blush, MC was transfixed by his alabaster skin. Her eyes wandered down, and she smiled at how stiff he already was. His length was slender, little veins climbing upwards in the spots where he most enjoyed being kissed and teased. A pink tip peeked demurely from its hiding place, and MC felt her mouth water in anticipation as she imagined it either on her tongue or deep inside her as he pounded into her.

“How do you manage to take my breath away every time?" MC sighed. "You're easily the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Ominis tried to speak, but all he could manage was a gratified whimper. His right hand pushed its way upwards underneath the chemise and wandered to her chest. His thumb found a nipple and massaged at it, more than happy at feeling of the lovely little bud under his thumb. MC moaned Ominis’s name at the welcome surprise.

MC took Ominis’ other hand from her chemise and grazed her lips over his palm. Trailing kisses down to the underside of his wrist, she breathed softly against his overstimulated skin and nibbled at one of the tiny moles adorning his wrist. She could see the veins beneath his skin visibly swelling as his heart beat furiously. She couldn’t resist sucking at the skin on his wrist. Her dazed husband groaned and pushed his head further back into the pillows. She suddenly understood the allure Ominis must have felt whenever he left love marks on her neck; the idea of him going to work, looking proper and respectable in every way except for the little bruise on his wrist that would show any time the cuff of his sleeve would ride up his arm was slightly thrilling. A secret, darker part of her hoped other women would see it and feel some jealousy, and it excited her. Her chemise felt very restrictive all of a sudden.

"Take this off me," MC muttered.

Ominis wasted no time obeying his wife. The chemise was promptly pulled up her body and over her head with the ease of a man who had the honor of frequently undressing his wife and never bored of it. He held the fabric in his hands and smiled faintly before delicately setting the little garment aside. He busied himself with running his hands up and down her bare skin, drinking in every little detail of her body. Feeling her perfect skin and imagining all the things he wanted to do, he feared he might go mad if he let himself lose all control.

"The way you ache for me—truly, desperately ache with all your adorable whimpers and hungry touches—is beautiful. I could feel and listen to it forever," MC leaned down and smirked against his neck. The delicate touch of her lips to his skin made Ominis gasp.

MC guided Ominis’ other hand to her abdomen and let his thumb wander downwards. As she did, she rose to her knees and her other hand reached underneath herself to take hold of his aching length. Ominis gasped, trying his best not to make a mess just yet. He wondered if any man had ever exerted so much effort before. Those delicate fingers could have made him cum right then and there, yet he resisted the temptation and merely panted as she stroked him a few times before drawing his tip back and forth over her core until he was panting. Ominis was sure he was going to positively burst, and he gripped her hips with a moan.

MC tutted at him. “My poor Ominis—so hopelessly in love. You must have felt so lonely these past few weeks… It's a wonder you didn't end up taking me right there in the entryway.”

“Trust me—there were some days,” Ominis gasped. “Nothing like this moment now, though.” He groaned and rolled his hips into her hand, hoping for any relief as his mind melted into a pure, instinctual drive to thrust himself into her.

MC finally took pity on her husband, held his length at her entrance and slowly pushed him inside her. The strangled groan from Ominis’ throat was the most beautiful thing MC had heard in weeks. She settled over him, letting him push as deep inside her as possible, inch by inch. She brought his hand down between them, and pushed his thumb against her swollen and eager clit. Ominis’s hips bucked once, making MC bounce slightly.

"Oh, you like being inside me, do you?" MC smirked. Ominis nodded, letting out a sharp breath.

MC began to roll her hips. Her body desperately gripped at Ominis’ manhood, sending shivers down both their spines. The look in his eyes was overwhelming: nothing but pure love and the deepest need any human being could feel. His starry blue eyes, even more distant than normal as he lost himself in pleasure, glinted in the morning sun like two opals. His hands were all over her body, silently worshipping her, and she knew she couldn’t last long—not with how much she had needed this every minute of every day for the past few weeks.

Ominis had needed sex like he needed air: his beautiful wife taking him all in at once, holding back quiet groans as his cock hit all her favorite little spots inside her. His thumb massaged at her clit with reverence while his other thumb glided back across her chest to a nipple. He rolled and flicked at both little organs, delighting in the moans his wife couldn’t help but make. It was pure music to hear her reduced to wordless noises. His cock twitched again and began to pulse. MC must have felt it, too, because she slowed to a stop and left them both panting.

“Fuck,” was all Ominis could breathe. “MC, please…”

“Please, what?” she smirked in spite of her need.

Ominis growled and squeezed her breast as gently as he could manage. “I need to cum. Please, don’t stop—”

“Then why not just finish the job yourself?” MC teased. She earned another squeeze, and she enjoyed the annoyance that crossed her husband’s face as he recognized the game she was playing to draw out her pleasure.

“Because you’re my beautiful wife,” Ominis groaned. “I want to—no, need to fill you with my seed. But more than that, I need to give you the pleasure you’ve been denied, too… I’ve missed you so much, you know, and you deserve only the best.”

MC’s mischievous demeanor instantly melted away, and his words tugged at her throat. Ominis was no longer the only one to fall prey to sweet nothings murmured upon yearning lips. She smiled and leaned down to kiss his neck sweetly as her hips picked up their pace again. She sat back up and let loose all the little moans and whimpers she had been holding back. He felt so big inside her after so long, and she adored the stretch she felt as her body remain tight around him.

Ominis joined in her sounds of adoration, and his thumbs worked her relentlessly. He wished they could stay like this forever, locked in the worship of each other’s bodies. He wanted to forever feel her hands on his chest as she propped herself up and panted, her hips bouncing against his and spreading her warm, delicious arousal over them both. He did his best to permanently burn into his memory her little gasps of “oh, Ominis, you feel so good” and “don’t stop, please. I need you, my love.”

The pleasure slowly coiling in MC’s core finally snapped. Gasps erupted from her throat as orgasm overtook her every waking thought. Her frame quivered and pulsed as she leaned forward and cried out her husband’s name.

MC’s walls clenched tightly around Ominis, and he spilled into her with blissful abandon. He gripped her body as if she were about to be torn away from him forever, and each wave of pleasure pushed his hips up against hers as far as their bodies would allow. Each pulse of his seed into her beautiful body felt as if it lasted longer than the previous, until his body was completely spent and he was weakly thrusting against her.

When the pair’s climaxes subsided and they were left a sweating, panting mess, MC collapsed onto Ominis’ chest.

“That felt incredible,” she panted. “I want every time to feel like that.”

Ominis chuckled and slowly rolled her over onto her back. He slowly kissed down her body and ended with a delicate kiss on her mound. MC giggled as he slid between her legs and back up her body, pressing his full weight down on her.

“Already trying to go again?” she smiled as he laid his head on her chest and she cradled it in her arms.

“Can’t a man savor his wife’s body after she made him feel so incredible?” he chuckled.

MC carded her fingers through his hair and listened to him sigh contentedly.

“I really do appreciate everything you told me,” Ominis murmured as he drew little circles on her shoulder with his thumb.

“What do you mean?” MC asked as she kissed the top of his head and traced the small shell of his ear.

“It’s good to know I’m still a decent husband, despite things like my family. I can’t tell you how much it means to hear those things… especially at my most vulnerable.”

“I’ll always remind you that you’re the ideal husband,” MC smiled. “Handsome, sweet, brave, well-endowed… need I go on?” she asked with another kiss to his head.

“Well, if you don’t mind…” Ominis smiled as a delicate blush came over his lovely features.

“Let’s see then,” MC began as her fingertips delicately traced shapes into Ominis’ smooth back. “You have no idea just how much you turn me on, you have the perfect body and your gorgeous cock could drive me mad with desire, you feel incredible no matter what you’re doing to me, and of course everyone will know you’re mine when they see that love bite on your wrist…”

Ominis’ face bloomed crimson, and with heavy eyelids he lifted himself up and began kissing down MC’s dewy body again. His hands slid up her legs and parted her knees, pushing them back until he had full access to her core. When he began flicking at her core with his tongue and tenderly kissing it, his kisses audibly wet with their cum still lingering at her entrance, MC moaned and gripped his hair in her fist, pushing him further against her.

“Ominis—” MC gasped with a love-inebriated smile. “What are you doing, darling?”

“We have a lot of catching up to do, my little hummingbird,” Ominis purred. “But please, don’t let me interrupt what you were saying.”

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt smut #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy smut #...this had been sitting in my drafts since June LOL OOPS #my perfectionism is beginning to ease and it's getting easier to write again :)#Isabel Greymoore

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