#it is also common but he's like. really not subtle about it and it's really nice

[cryptfile]

Ꮺ˖˚₊ leeches, [ logan howlett x vampire!reader au ]

summary — logan howlett lacks of patience (and he can also be a nice little blood-bag while losing his temper). 8k+

warnings — 18+ mdni, fem!reader implied, blood kink (keep in mind you’re a vampire! not twilight but more of a true blood kind?) downright filth im sorry, dead dove do not eat, smoker!reader, endless tension, manhandling, praise kink, kind of porn without plot (LIES CAUSE IT HAS ONE THO??) my boy's into paaaaaain can't help it it's canon, age-gap at first (reader is her 20's but again, vampire), public sex (it just happened), daily reminder to wrap it before you tap it, p in v, choking, filthy mouth, pet names.

side notes — thought this could take place after days of the future past? au cause why nottttt ,,currently on ovulation season so bare with me,,, been a little mia cause i’m surviving aka going through the worst semester of my life at uni? internships are breaking my ass currently so well, here i am just existing, also, english’s not my first language and everyday i’m grateful for it, so any mistakes i’m not sorry in advance lol i’m also too lazy to correct once published,, feel free to send more logan requests since i've basically been a slut for him for a while now (i'm rotting in hell).

He could swear the mansion got ten degrees hotter when you came in.

It’s inevitable. It’s this thing you carry, the way you move — Graceful, elegant, almost compelling as the air fills the room. It’s not public knowledge that you’re not a mutant itself, yet you’re presented like one, like you have healing factors and age painfully slow, but human after all, a subtle lie, one that can harm no one.

It’s safe to say you catch his attention in the most annoying way: How couldn’t you? All you do is this weird seduction he’s appealed to, whether you’re conscious or not it’s just captivating, an invisible force that even when you ignore it is there, there waiting for the perfect moment to flood every time you happen to be in the same room.

Captivating. That’s the word.

The room becomes smaller after, the air grows thicker, and it’s almost like a ticking bomb, the way you wouldn’t even look at his face while he’s noticeable pinning after Jean Grey, the mystery that surrounds you and he cannot seem to resolve no matter how much time he puts into it.

It’s like he's the plague. You don’t really try to exchange more than just a few words, only when it's needed and you cannot avoid him any longer, and he didn’t say anything at first, keeping his distance too cause he don’t see how you’d become friends, cause after all, what he could have in common with a girl that doesn't surpass the twenty years?

But soon he's upset about it, even when he doesn't really say anything out loud, it's a spike he cannot reach under his skin. You seem to become friends with anyone but him, mutant kids in your history lessons, the rest of the team, even the damn mailman when he delivered a package — You'd say hello like it's a long time lover or so, greeting people like they mean the world to you.

He has students now that are asking for a transfer from his class to yours cause it seems you're fun to be around, more like he is, and he fucking hates it.

It's fair to say it's been getting into his mind lately. That thing you do with your hair, twisting it in your index finger on a lock as you speak, the subtle red glow in your eyes he always catches by mistake, not enough fast to stop looking at you, pretending he didn't even see in your direction at first.

Tension. Logan just happens to hate tension.

In fact. He's almost sure your problem is personal, that you might hate him enough to act like he didn't exist at all, enough to avoid him like he was not there.

That's why it's just so weird.

When he finds himself walking down the hallway to the kitchen and he smells this cherry-scented aroma that settles under his nostrils, he changes the direction he's walking to, to instead, follow the path to the person that was silently smoking outside. Hiding. Maybe, a student he'll have to scold like the old man he was turning into.

No smoking in the mansion!

However, as the night is just settling, he doesn't recognize a little mutant, but instead happens to recognize you in the middle of the gardens of the mansion, close to the maze; escaping the comfort of the inside to enjoy a self-rolled cherry tobacco he has smelled before in the air. He's a victim mostly, cause his legs move on it's own as his mouth go dry, approaching you in silence.

"What do you want?" you ask when he's halfway there. And your tone is just cold as ever, not an ounce of feeling as he contemplates your side profile, the way the tobacco sticks out of your parted lips, seated on a bench hidden between bushes and trees — "Is Scott bitching about the smell going into the mansion already?"

No. He's not. But he doesn't have enough reasons to explain exactly why he's outside if you asked, why, all of sudden, he followed the scent of cherry knowing it was you the only one who carried a colts package in the pocket of every single jacket you wore, constantly asking Storm if she could hold on to the bag of filters for you while you rolled in the worst moments.

It's distracting, to say the least.

"Yeah," he quickly says, lying cause in reality he hasn't seen the guy in the whole day, yet it sounds like something he would say. "Do you happen to have another one of those to share?"

You don't talk much, hand reaching his as you offered him from your tobacco without a single word, the same that was placed between your lips and now was on his in what seemed to be something more intimate than what he'd like to admit, the cherry taste filling his lungs as they weirdly enough, shared a cig.

"Aren't you too young to be smoking?"

You laugh, and the sound sends a shiver down his spine cause he has never heard a sound quite like it, nothing that resembles that throaty, raspy sound that came out of your lips in amusement thanks to his words. He, out of all people, has never seen you like that — "And how old you think I am?"

He seems to think about it for a second, carefully picking his next words. Logan knows that women and their age are a tricky thing, you cannot say a number that's too compromising, nor act stupid and say something that's clearly not correct — "Not a day over twenty-two."

The answer pleases you, and he just knows he's wrong, but you don't seem bothered by it, instead, you nod pretending he's right, like he just got the answer right away.

He can see why everyone's switching classes now. Cheeky bastards.

"Twenty-two is not young at all, but i'm twenty-seven though," you say, and he scoffs at the statement, seeking for any change in your heartbeat, any sign of a lie. The strange thing happens when he cannot pick any heart at all, any sign of pulse.

"You are pretty young still," he says, against his age, you’re just starting out living—. "You don't look like you are twenty-seven at all."

"Cause I age slower than the rest," it's a practiced lie. One you know from repeating the same explanation over and over again, the priced answer of why you haven't changed a single bit in the past few years and made you a mutant — "I never looked my age."

Such a fucking liar. He doesn't need any heartbeats to confirm it cause deep down you are a terrible actress, he can see it so clear, how you're calculating every answer, thinking about the correct thing to say, the normal thing to say.

"Is that your thing?" he asks, playing pretend almost as bad as you do. Tilting his head to the side as he questions you — "Age slowly?"

"I have healing powers," you explain as he tossed you the joint once again. "My saliva kinds of help healing wounds. It's pretty boring."

"Boring" Logan repeats. The word itself sounds so damn fun in your lips it's contradicting. "That doesn’t sound really boring."

There's a moment of silence after that. Where you smoke in silence taking in the taste of the cherry, and he is having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that your lips also touched the side of the cigar he was smoking before, the plain lies you've been repeating over and over the last ten minutes.

It's almost infuriating. Makes his blood boil without question, he surely endures your treatment of silence, but being lied to? That's a whole different level.

“How old are you, kid?”

Your brows furrow in response, a clueless face. You are pulling out this show once again Logan don’t buy for a damn second. Something about the scrunch in your nose, the way you dismissed your own powers as if they weren’t enough. He knows it’s all a lie. He knows it even when he doesn’t really know you at all, when it’s the first time you’re truly speaking to him after your arrival to the mansion almost a year ago.

“How old you really are?”

You laugh at the question once again, and he just knows it, knows it when he sees you barely illuminated by the dim light of the moon, the act you always keep up, a web of tangled lies you have to be into— “Told you i'm twenty-seven already, didn't you hear?”

“Is it now?” he asks, amused by the sass, exhaling the smoke of the low-quality tobacco he doesn't understand why you're so invested in when passed it to him—. “Cause you don’t seem very convinced, it really sounds like bullshit to me.”

You're almost offended. By the look you give it's like the worst mistake he could ever make, yet you remain silent, not giving the satisfaction of an honest answer yet. Testing his patience like he did have one to begin with.

"Is that why I can’t hear your heartbeats, darlin'? Cause you age so slowly?”

The nickname scratches a part of your brain, and you hate him for it. The word rolls out of his tongue with an accent, smoking your cherry tobacco cause you happen to be nice.

“You can’t?” you’re good at faking it suddenly, at least, that's what he thinks when your brows furrow in alleged curiosity, stiffening your back, uncomfortable. “How weird.”

“Damn right it is” that's when you realize he knows you are lying. Even when you don’t talk much, even when you act all stiff and bothered when he’s close, he knows that you are fully invested in lying. In whatever twisted little lie you've planned, like it was your real life and not something you made up. “Are you going to tell me truth, then or do I have to find out? Does the professor know that you're lying?”

The smoke lingers in the air.

“How old are you?” he asks once again, demanding an honest answer this time — "Thirty? Thirty-five?"

You find his questions annoying, mostly cause he won't stop until he gets an answer, one that pleases him enough to leave you alone, the other part cause you happen to like the playful banter you two keep going, dangerously much. You don't hate attention it's clear, what you do hate it's the way he seemed to see pass the lie, to demand more even when he has no right to.

He enjoys being the one who's right though, Logan cannot help it. He's pleased to catch that look on your face who says everything but nothing at once, to have you where he wanted, almost at the edge of admitting a truth.

Is it payback because you've been stealing all of the little mutants from his class? He's jealous cause kids like being around you? It does not make much sense, but he is fully invested. Questioning all.

Even when you're outside, it seems like the air grows thicker. And Logan finds himself seeking for your breathing, cause he don't know nothing, nothing about you more than the fact you don't seem to have a heartbeat, or pulse and now, breathing.

“If you really are that eager to know, i'm a hundred and twenty-seven” the words float in the air for a while, and he's sure you're just messing with him, cause there's no way a pretty little face like yours had endured a century. “I've been alive for quite a while.”

He doesn't fully believe it first. Of course he doesn't. Logan's sure you're messing with him also, distracting him about your real age.

“And I supposed this do come from you slow aging powers” He tries to give you a point there, but it's difficult to be serious when you're just playing with him—. "How so?"

To be honest, you do have a little temper yourself, you've learned to stand up for yourself most of the time, so when you happen to notice he's teasing you, that he doesn't really believe you, you adopt this attitude of defense he notices as you shift over the wood you're seated in.

"No, it doesn't" you steal the joint from his hands to have a smoke yourself. "You really aren't as smart as I thought you were, huh?"

Do you happen to have a dead wish? His muscles tense beneath his shirt, and in contrast of his problem, you can hear it all. All the sounds his body makes when he's all bothered just by the beat of his heart, that annoying sound his bones make each time he moves.

"What are you?"

"That's it," the praising goes directly into his chest, the tone you use to tell him he's going in the right direction it feels just so right he forgets why he got mad in the first place—. "That's what you should be asking right there."

It's almost a shame having to admit he would also switch classes. That he would also go through all the paperwork himself without a second thought and that right there, is pathetic, but you're smiling at him as if you're encouraging the man to try harder, to find the answer himself, and fuck — He's old, too old, he's tired, he's in a bad mood as fucking usual, and he happens to dig a drink in the quiet of his own room, but he's pulled by something as equal as devastating as the gravity force, shoot towards you in pure need to have some answers even if he has to make you spit them.

"I find it strange, cause when you don't have a heartbeat, you aren't usually alive" Deep down he's fascinated, hazel eyes glues on your face trying to understand. He feels like he has it in the tip of his tongue waiting to leave his mouth as a catastrophic answer, but he doesn't find the right words.

"That's cause i'm not," you state it like it's something obvious. And just as he knows you're lying, this time, he knows you're telling the truth, blowing the smoke in his direction just to bother him — "Why do you think i'm teaching history after all huh?"

He hasn't seen it all, it seems.

Yeah.

He's losing it after that night.

It’s known that Logan has sleeping problems, but that night specifically he thinks about something else rather than what usually torments him, a truth he also has to keep a secret now that he's learned more about it.

See, Logan doesn't expect you to be really dead. Much less to hear what you are and have been hiding this whole time from the rest of the people in the mansion — He also learns that you feed on blood, that vampires are a common thing in the world and that he shouldn't, at least, be that surprised when he's a mutant in a world full of humans himself.

You are a folklore myth on small villages, stories in Rumania and horror character in films, so you don't blame him when as you spoke, he finally understands why you're so damn attractive, so damn seductive as you explained more about your way of living, some memories you've been keeping to yourself since being a vampire was so damn solitary, memories he listens to cause he knows what it's like, to be misunderstood, to be eternal, to be alone as well.

It makes the two of you grow closer by the next weeks. You now talked during broad daylight about random shit at first, about the war sometimes, about your condition as he refers to when people is around, eaves-dropping on what you two are talking so invested in. Friends.

Simple as that.

And it's safe to admit also that in the course of the next days, Logan Howlett is a fucking mess, and he knows it, but he won't do anything about it.

He won't flirt cause he knows you're a hell of a woman, in every good sense of the word, that he's way too damaged for a vampire even, for all kinds of people out there, and as much as he'd like to say anything, he values your attention, how you switched the attitude of acting like he didn't exist to be a friend, one that you came to share secrets with a cherry aroma glued in their skin.

It gets him insane, to the point he's no longer spending much time with Jean and people start to pick up on it as if he didn't have enough headaches already. He doesn't care. Shit you are not bothered by what people say, and to be honest, he cannot seem to care either.

At first, he's reluctant of keep on talking to you as normal as it is. He's not really invested in religious themes, but he sure admits you're a sin by all meanings, a religious experience of some kind if anyone asked him — He agrees with what he has heard also in the hallways. Innocent conversations of teens and their platonic crush on their teachers. You are pretty hot.

He's so interested in knowing more about you, about the nights you spend in Rumania, when you leave to Canada, the different lives you've lived across the years. He finds himself looking forward to share his stories too, weird enough, cause he's over two centuries himself and he just craves to talk about it with someone who also gets him in a deeper level, that weariness that fills your body when you age so long.

You got the best of immortality, and instead of feeling envious, Logan finds himself attracted to you so much like he's never been in his whole existence. Not at the point it happened with you at least.

By the end of the first month he knows your little treats. You use a lot of sunscreen, and avoid activities outside as much as you possibly can with those classic, tiny black sunglasses that hided you from the rays of the sun, always in the shadow so unapproachable; how you'd usually dismiss food offerings from anyone who's kind enough to even offer you something, and when you haven't fed well during the course of the week, you'd become the most maddening woman he'd ever met.

Maddening.

"What wrong with you, Leech?" Leech. You've been in such a bad mood lately that when he's seating next to you in another random smoking session outside, your fingers twitch, clearly pissed at the nickname after saying multiple times you don't like it.

"I'm not in the mood for plays now."

He can tell from before. When you talked to him that very morning and stared at the collar of his flannel for what it seemed a good, nice minute, he realizes the same moment that you were staring at that pulse point in his neck, where the flesh blood was pumping in his blood flow: You're hungry, as any living creature would be and at your own manner, in constant control as you fight the sense of hunger.

So instead, the mutant ask, like he always does when he’s curious about something that involves you:

"When did you last feed?"

"A couple of weeks ago."

That would explain it. You don't talk much about your meal plan, he knows the professor is in charge of all of that. You've told him about blood bags and hospitals, but he's not really aware of how constant you need to eat, how the blood supplies most of your energy, makes you stronger, gives you vitality, so Logan at first, don't really know what its like to not drink any blood in the course of two weeks.

"What happened with the blood bags from the Hospital?"

The mention of blood out loud seems to triggers you. A groan escaping your lips as you can swear you feel the taste in your mouth — "Don't know. Haven't seen a single one this week, Charles said something about next week, problems in the bank I guess."

You're clearly worked up. It's a new look he hasn't registered before, your hair is tangled in a less-composed look, and there's a slight shake in your hands as if you're going through withdrawal, deprived for what you needed the most.

"And animals?" he questions, trying to find a solution. “Can’t you eat a cat or something?”

"Like shit i'm going to feed from a fucking animal," you're almost immediately grossed out, scrunching your nose at the idea. "I can barely handle being so close to a damn human but animals? I'd rather fucking die this time for real, no waking up."

"That bad huh?" the mutant asks, taking a sip from the beer he sneaked outside, chucking lightly afterwards. "So you're a leech with elegant taste, huh? Of course you are."

"Clean blood is rare," you explain, rolling your eyes. It's inevitable. He knows you hate the nickname so much that he insists to keep on calling you that way just to get a reaction—. "Humans nowadays taste like dirt. They consume drugs among other substances, pills, food supplements, even damn vitamins, don’t get me started about blood diseases cause it gets me in a bad temper. Every single thing affects on your taste, even what you eat. It's all registered there. Clean, good blood is rare to find. Call me elegant, call me picky. It's a damn fact."

"And what about mutant blood?" he questions. And it seems like a mere phrase at first, one with no subtle tones, he’s usually curious about your nature so you don’t pay much attention as he spoke—. “You’re picky about mutants too?”

“No, i’ve never had a mutant before.” The truth is, you hate feeding from people, the act being something so intimate, so damn personal, you refrain yourself. Killing humans, picking a next victim to fed on, is considered now a treat you don't appreciate from your kind, making you steal from hospitals and any kind of blood bank before Charles offered you help. You haven't fed from a mutant, cause you avoided everyone equally, but you don't want to be rude about it. “You all smell different, but i’d be lying. Maybe yes, i’d be picky about it too, feeding is something intimate.”

It's an undeniable admission, and now that he's trying to be in your position, he would also be picky about someone's blood. Logan remains stoic cause he’s suddenly filled by the thought of something else, a glimpse of his own weird creativity he forces himself to push aside, to really suppress now that it's not the time or the moment.

“How do I smell?” It's too late to stop the words from coming out of his mouth when he asks her. And at first, is out of pure curiosity. He has never encountered a vampire in his life until you, let alone had someone talking about the subtle tastes of the blood being undead, so he doesn't want to let the opportunity slip — Of course he wants to know if an over two hundred mutant like himself would be as remotely good as a fresh, clean bag from the hospital.

"You stink like wet dog," he surely deserves it after all the times he’s been calling you a leech — "Like those cigars you tend to smoke, alcohol, and musk. It's similar as wood. That smell you got when you're in a forest and it's not raining but straight pouring."

"Is this a way of telling me i'd taste bad, peach?"

You make a mental note to let him know after you like peach way more than leech.

"If i'd found a human smelling like that, you won't be hearing from me anytime soon" you're just messing with him. A playful banter you enjoy more than ever, the distraction you needed to think in something else rather than the blood bags you craved so deeply — "Hell, i've would just walked the other way."

"So i'm taking you won't be feeding from me anytime soon."

It all takes a dark turn there. You're very aware of the tension the last month now that you talk to him in daily basis, but it’s just mere tension, nothing that ever goes beyond the limit. Logan has never said something to flirt with you despite the million chances he got, and he always remained like a friend, one that you enjoy spending time with now. Cannot be blamed when you're taken aback.

“Cat got your tongue, kiddo?” Man. You're about to whine about the name before you remember he is indeed, older than you are. Vampire or mutant.

"You want me to feed from you?"

He seems so willing when you ask. Even when you teased about his smell calling him a wet dog. He just seems so eager to let you just do it, try a mutant for the first time.

"Yeah," he dismisses it like it's not something so deep — "I doubt Charles is going to let you take a bite since you could clearly kill him, and I'm not sure the others would be pleased with the idea of you sinking your teeth in them, so yes. Me, leech."

Logan Howlett doesn't really smell bad. And you don't know why cause he has all the ingredients to fucking stink, yet, you'd call him interesting. That's what you thought when you find his pulse point again, the vein in his neck you looked earlier in the morning, thinking just as the same you were thinking now.

Of course you would feed from him. Is it a good thing to do? No, in any other circumstances you'd decline. He's your friend.

Now? You’re having a hard time.

"So I'm guessing that you're pleased with the idea, then," Real talk?, you just want to hear him say it. He doesn't talk much usually, but now that he's very vocal about what's on his mind, you have to take advantage of it—. "I'm not sure either. But I do think Storm may be interested too."

He seems content with the response, taking a long sip from his beer before adding — "Please, go and ask her so you're less annoying."

You're almost completely sure he doesn't find you annoying. You also don't care about Storm. And maybe he knows you're not going anywhere, that you're not moving.

"You really want me to bite you?"

"I dunno now, princess" he looks at you pleased now cause he got you where he wanted to, cause he managed to awake all the interest now that you're looking at him "Are you going to pull a Dracula on me?"

"No, i'm not going to suck you dry if that's what you're asking."

Logan chuckles. He's a damn masochist. It's been like that as long as he can remember. It may have to be with his healing powers cause he likes it more than usual, but the idea gets to his head soon enough, all falling so damn fast: Your breathing would be against his neck and he'd take the bite like a damn champ.

"Yeah I can handle you," he says, aroused. "You're not gonna hurt me if you take some blood. I'll be fine and you won't be a pain in the ass."

He acts so gruff about it but you hear the sound of his heartbeat already high enough to wake the entire mansion, his labored breathing since he suggested the idea himself. He digs it, strange enough. Thrives on the idea.

He's a grown man already, and he can take a little leech like yourself.

It's clear you're hungry, cause it doesn't take much for you to accept, nodding like you're defeated, like you just lost the war entirely, cause there's no many options here to take and even if it were, you are now interested in have him more than any other blood bag. In fact. To hell with the hospital.

"Okay."

It's a simple answer, and it sure works with him as you get close to him, the bench you always used to sit now seeming so small as you look around confirming you guys really are alone—. "You won't tell anyone?"

It's something stupid to ask, cause after all that time he has never said anything, keeping your secrets as if they were his own, saving you from weird questions people get sometimes as they didn't know much about you. He's clearly not going to say nothing at all.

"Are you going to stop whining for a second and just eat darlin'? Cause I might change my mind here."

He's feeling overload soon after.

You don’t need a formal invitation to lean closer to his neck.

There's no way to describe it also cause he has never seen something like that, never felt a similar sensation more than when he's fucking, the cold touch of your fingers in his chest, taunting the vein in his neck without a previous warning before leaning in even closer than before—. "Stay still" you demand, face close against his bare skin, only one goal in mind. "Don't move for a minute. Just-"

You cannot finish the sentence, and Logan can experience the sporadic pain of the bite first hand when your teeth finally sink in his neck, piercing the flesh so easily as you let the blood fill your mouth. He grunts at the sharp pain, his face contracting momentarily before it's replaced by a nice wave of pleasure, one that hits him right in the guts as he grabs you by the nape of your neck, pushing you against him, almost demanding you to be closer, to keep on taking what you want, what you've been craving for two weeks.

When did he turned into this perverted sick? Getting off by something so primal as the fact you're feasting on him.

The feeling of your lips and the clear suck you gave when feeding are sending him into a spiral, and to be honest, he didn't expect to be so devastated by you, by the way your fingers stay against his chest to prevent him from moving, pinning the mutant between the wood bench and yourself so he won’t move, won’t do anything unless you want him to,pressing on the wound to draw more blood out.

"You heal so damn fast," you complain, looking at the traces of your bite with an unpleased face as they disappeared on his skin as fast as you created them.

"Then bite me again. I don't care."

You chuckle before leaning once again, and you can feel how the air grows hotter than how it was usually, the shift on his breathing as you bite him again, pressing on the wounds once again just to suck.

And you’re hungry, it’s the whole deal. His taste differs from what you believe at first, a huge change from what humans taste like, from what you’re used to deal with in hospitals. There’s a subtle taste of alcohol yes, but it mixes good with the sweet taste of honey, the weird taste you cannot put into words. It must be a mutant thing for sure cause it’s thicker than usual, a mix of flavors that explode in your tongue.

The headache you suffered from the whole week seems to dissapear as you drink in, feeding the monster you responded to in your stomach, demanding you to make him bleed more, to satisfy yourself until you can’t have any more.

Logan, on the other hand, is really fighting against his very own war.

You’re already close enough, but he just wants you damn closer, as much as he possibly can. It’s clear that well, it hurts slightly, but he has endured much worse, means nothing when it’s the pleasure that comes with it who strikes on his body, the light sucking, the idea you’re full of his blood, that you are not on trouble as you were before thanks to him. All because of him.

He's not used to acts on his impulses, but he does it anyway.

"C'mere" he says in a strangled voice, Logan's having no trouble moving you around, grabbing you by the hips to make you straddle him, keeping you glued to his neck as he doesn't want to disturb you—. "You really are a pretty leech, huh?”

You hum against his skin, pleased at the contact, and when he realizes you’re not complaining about his actions, he let his fingers grip your tights, keeping you against him.

You can hear him making this sound, quite like a moan but not exactly when you’re licking the holes you left in his skin, he does heal fast and don’t need any of your help when you’re done, but you coat his skin with your saliva anyway just to speed up the process, cause you want to do it, looking down to him after to check if he’s pale or nearly dead. You never really know.

And Logan himself is just fine cause his fingers gather the blood under your lip when he takes the sight of you sitting in his lap as the pearly white rays of moonlight makes your skin shine, and he pushes them inside your mouth so you don't waste any drop of what it can be considered food.

"So what's the final verdict?" he asks as his hands are now grabbing your tights, there's something so intimate about the moment, so personal, hot as he presses his fingers against the flesh of your muscles, he understand what you said before—. "Do I taste like utter shit?"

"Well, i’d need another taste to have my final decision" he laughs, and he don't really laugh often so the unexpected sound sends a shiver down your spine now that you’ve heard the sound quite a while now—. "Not much, just a little."

“Have you fill then, peach” He encourages you. “I want you full so you don’t whine the rest of the week.”

You don’t have any heartbeat, but if you did, it would be ragging in your ears at his words. At the warmth he’s spreading like a disease on her body that, despite being dead and cold, you can feel more than ever.

“I like peach,” you admit, this time pressing a soft kiss before directly hurt him—. “Leech is annoying.”

He’s going to say something, tease you about it maybe but he’s interrupted by the nice feeling of what he considers are your fangs tearing his skin apart, familiarity hitting him all sudden as he moans, a rough sound that comes from the deep of his throat, hands coming down to squeeze your ass, making you gasp against his neck when you experience the aching need physically forming in his pants.

“Still,” you say, concentrated on not allowing the wounds to close. But at the lack of complaints on what he's doing, Logan’s hands kept wandering around, making you move against his now clearly stiffed cock—. “Fuck’s sake I said still.”

“Stop being a damn brat. You can eat while I move you,” he grunts annoyed, shoving you against him, the friction of his jeans against the thin fabric of your shorts is enough to keep you quiet: Feeding from a stranger and feeding from a person you’re attracted to are two different things, especially in the position you find yourself in. “You don’t have to do anything. Quit whining about it.”

In response, your fingers press against the wound, not caring if it hurts or if it bothers him, but just enough to get him to bleed more and prevent the cut from closing, lapping at the blood that gathered over his collarbone, staining his white tank before you could even avoid it.

Your fingers grab the fabric just to pull it slightly down so it won't bother you, and the deep sound his chest make when he mocks about your desperation is stuck on your brain for the next couple of minutes, indulging in his taste, shutting up the rest of the world.

A moan comes out of your lips, muffling it against his skin. You're too zoomed out to hear it, but he's on a hell of a ride too, moaning as he demands more. It's been a while since the last time you did something like that, combine the pleasure of something as primal as eating with a mundane activity like sex, so you kind of forgot how good it felt, blaming yourself from depriving from something so needed.

"Do you always get this turned on when someone bites you?"

"No" Logan answers as you finish. He's rock hard beneath you, and he lets you know it when he's controlling the movement of your hips, working you against him at a slow pace—. "See, the woman i'm trying to seduce don't usually bite me, nor make me their main dinner plate."

You whine at the friction.

He looks down to the cause of all his damn problems just to notice his pants being damped with nothing but a physical form of need, soothing the uncomfortable fabric of his blue jeans — "So wet for me already, you’re making a damn mess, do you always get this turned on when feeding?"

Cheeky bastard.

He's using your own words against you, and you cannot be less bothered as you laugh softly, licking your lips only cause you know there's dried blood in them, drowned in his smell, the honey taste that lingered in your mouth.

“No, I don’t.”

At the sight, Logan's hand grabs your jaw in a rough movement, making you look at him before making you kiss him, deepening the contact as fast as you give him the chance. His tongue is soon invading your bucal cavity as he takes control of it, slow, intense and needy, as if he was holding on so much time before giving in to his own desires.

It is something like that.

You don't need to breathe in daily basis, but there's a burning sensation in your chest of wanting, of infinite lust you've been also experiencing by yourself.

The old mutant can taste his own blood in your mouth, a metallic taste as he keeps on kissing you until your lips are pink and puffed. He has thought so much about it that now that he has the opportunity, he devours as if he's a starved man having his first meal in what seems are ages.

"You didn't tell me if I tasted bad."

You think about it for a second.

"I'm afraid you're a rare breed cause it doesn't make any sense" You don't need any help now moving, cause you're rolling your hips on top of him at your own pace, allowing him to use his hands for something else—. “You have all the ingredients to taste like shit, but it's nothing but the contrary, even better than the fucking blood bags.”

“Sounds like your going to make me your meal plan, darlin. I’m here offering you a hand and you just take everything,” — “Such a greedy little vampire.”

He doesn't seem to care though, same as before he's nothing but willing to let you take everything as much as he tries to bark about it. He's more worried about his hands now that they're sliding down your oversized shirt, tracing patterns over your stomach, his touch so hot against your usually cold temperature.

"Logan," you whine,— "Someone can see us out here."

"Now you care about that?" his hazel eyes are a shade darker when he speaks. "After you're nice and full of my blood?"

His hands are big enough to take your whole cunt, allowing his digits to roam over the fabric of your underwear, almost thanking you for using those loosened pajama shorts he has seen before that very night as he just takes the fabric and pull it to the side.

"Nobody is going to see us. It's late and everyone's sleeping, leech" he teases you, and you cannot bring yourself to care about the nickname at the feeling of his hand taunting you from over the fabric—. "If you can bite me here outside, you might as well take my cock here too."

You cannot battle against that. You're deep in whatever spell he puts you into, giving in to the attraction and the tension that now needs to be taken care of. Logan's fingers touch you in nothing but experience, cause he knows how to please after so much time alive, how much pressure he needs to apply to leave you plain dumb, pliable for him.

"D'you think I need to stretch you out before fucking you?" he asks against your neck after leaving a reasonable-sized hickey in the zone, he likes the idea of people finding out about what you've been doing with him the next morning. "Or you're a big girl and can take me all by yourself?"

He'd like to take your time with you. Thoroughly enjoy you as much as he wants to, let everyone know you're his now, that you're shuddering thanks to him only, but he's too needy for that, too deprived of you to take his time.

"I want you to use that pretty mouth of yours and talk to me," he demands, coming up to look at your face while torturing you, his index and middle finger rubbing your clit from over the underwear—. "I'm not properly touching you yet and you're losing it already, peach. C'mon, you can talk to me still."

"I can take you," you say in a strangled voice. "Please Logan, please."

It's the plea of your tone that gets him, the soft begging of an ache he can only soothe, your face while you ask for more, not aware of anything else but him.

"Please what?"

"Please just fuck me already," you ask in frustration—. "I just need you to fill me up for a damn while."

You are starting to love the sound of his laugh. The deep sound he makes when he’s really enjoying something, his voice in damn general.

"Be a good little vampire" He says in a gentle tone. Logan’s trying to be kind even when his touch is so rough. "Unbuckle my pants and take my cock out. My hands are busy now, and you can do it yourself."

He is busy indeed. Toying with your underwear being the only thing that’s keeping him from the direct contact, pushing the fabric against your hole as it works as a barrier, preventing his digits to fuck you as he’d like to. He’s busy keeping you in place, preventing you from downright melt as your hands came up to unbuckle his belt first, the sound of the metal as it moves filling the air for a couple of seconds before you put all your attention in the button of his jeans, the zipper coming down with the force you’re using.

“Yeah baby,” he praises—. “You’re doing so good, keep going.”

When you pull the fabric of his briefs down, he’s already leaking for you, pink head, slightly curved to the side, moaning, erratically how much he needs your hands on him, how you're wet and ready for his cock. You close your fist around him, stroking slowly as your hips lift up enough to position yourself on top of him.

He’s big. Damn fucking right he is, you’d expected it from before cause sometimes you swear you can see his full length in his jeans, but taking him in your hand is a struggle but itself.

“Are you going to take me yourself or do you need my help? I know you can.”

Despite his words, he does help. Grabbing the black fabric of your underwear to finally make it to the side, the tip of his dick pushing against your clit before he's the one to place it in your leaky hole, forcing himself slowly, giving you time to take him in, inch by inch.

“Good girl," he says, head rolling backwards for a brief moment as he experiences the warm sensation of your walls surrounding him, clenching against his cock as he keeps one hand on your hip, helping you as you lower yourself over him. "Let me look at you.”

His fingers grab your jaw, squeezing you as he makes you look back at him, pushing you once again as you holded a loud moan. He's stretching you at his need.

"One more time," he begs. "One more time and you got it, peach. You're almost there."

Jesus fuck. You can feel yourself getting dizzy. You've drank a lot of blood and you're now overwhelmed by this intense pleasure that formed in your lower stomach, gathering there and waiting for the perfect moment to explode—. "Fuck I-"

Logan's pampering you with kisses as a mere distraction, his lips travelling through your neck to your collarbone before you're finally seated on top of him, a muffled moan you need to shut filling the calm of the night.

"Fuck you're tight," he exhales, and he's lost in the sensation, the way your velvety walls welcome him inside. He stays still for a moment, giving you time to adjust, to make you the one who starts moving on top of him.

You can see his veins popping up. All over his chest and coming down to his shoulders and his arms, and god gracious — He smells so fucking good you’re tempted to ask if you can have a bite again.

The moment feels longer than usual, the seconds pass slowly as you stay there. Logan’s hands are just touching your skin from under your oversized t-shirt, taking in the low moans you gave him, the almost perceptible whispers as you get used to him, to his size.

He likes the intimacy of it, the bliss. Man you look so pretty in his lap when the light of the moon is stripping you all to his eyes, even if you’re fully dressed an he’s seated in a damn bench, he cannot enjoy it more, pulling you in for a needy kiss, one that is rougher than the first one and leads you to move inevitably.

His cock pushes past that nice spot inside, and the friction is enough to make you move again, rocking your hips at a slow pace for a few seconds. The sound of your moans is silenced by his demanding kisses, and now that he knows you can handle him, his grip on your hips turn more firm now, squeezing the skin there so he can control your speed, the rythm of your movements now faster than before.

“Shh, don’t whine” what he lacks of vocal usually, he pours it all in just fucking, talking you through it when he feels you’re being too loud—. “Do you want to wake the others? We can’t have them seeing you like this, all fed up and cock-drunk.”

“Let me bite you again,” you ask soon enough. And it takes a lot to do it, cause you’re doing it out of pure greed, cause you can’t have enough.

“Take whatever you want, leech, just don’t make me faint” he jokes, his panted breathing betraying him as he moans, incredibly interested in the idea—. “Want to be conscious when you cum all over my dick.”

Logan’s sure your eyes glisten in a red color as you lean over his neck. And this time is less affectionate, much less gentle as you finally bite him again, teeth piercing the flesh so easily his hips jolts against you in response of the sharp pain your fangs create, the warm sensation of his blood in contrast of your cold touch, tongue-licking all you get from him.

And fuck it feels good.

He shrudders beneath you, shaking his head just slightly at reflex of pain before continue working his way with you, placing his hand between your tights as he lets his fingers rub on your sensitive clit, just enough to make you bite on his neck harder, the lewd sounds of your cunt taking him between holded moans as you suck on his neck.

“That’s it taking me so good,” He praises — “You like that, princess? Like how you’re full of me?”

You hum against his skin. The blood coates your chin as it goes down through his chest, staining his white tank for a couple of seconds before the holes your teeth made finally closes on their own.

It’s pure ecstasy. He can feel it when you clenching around his cock, cheeks red from his blood going now through your system, his vitality, his energy.

You can feel him fucking everywhere. So when you kiss him it’s all teeth, bite and his blood.

The pleasure’s taking control of you now, and Logan’s dizzy from the blood loss, his body covered now in sweat as his words slur together, not threading any coherent thought.

“That’s it,” he says, making you bounce of his cock. “Gonna’ have you in my room then, all spread out f’me.”

His hand wrap around your neck tightly, keeping the direct contact as he chokes you. Shit. You don’t need to say a word. Logan already got you.

“James-” he’s too deep to question why you’re using that name with him. How you facade is crushing down now as you let go.

When your body trembles on top of him he’s already cumming too, the squeeze on his cock sufficent to fuck him up personally, his bruising grip on your hips shoving you as deep as he possibly can as his release hits him like a brick falling from the damn sky.

He lets you work for it, ride each second of your high, milk him dry as a white circle of his own cum mixed with your juices coated the base of his cock, his underwear now slick with your orgasm.

He’s struggling to breathe, to properly say something as you’re finally coming down from your peak, looking at him through half lidded eyes.

“Did you called me James?” he questions, and you’re a damn bad liar, cause he knows imediately you’re hidding something cause of the look on your face—. “Do we know each other? From before.”

You don’t know how to respond at first, at least, cause you cannot lie in a position like that now.

“Well uh. It’s quite a long story here.”

Before you can continue he gets up, making you wrap your legs around his hips before stsrting to walk to the mansion.

“Logan-” you say in a strangled moan yourself, still sensitive as he’s balls-deep inside you.

“It will be less than two minutes, leech” he responds gruffily,— “Need to get you into my room so I can enjoy you the rest of the night, and you can tell me all of it.”

He don’t care if he’s bloody or a damn mess as he squeezes your ass climbing up the stairs, much less if anyone see the two of you in that state.

“I want to hear all the details, Cause I have a weird feeling that this has happened before.”

You cannot find a reasonable excuse to say no as the man’s already reaching the second floor.

Logan’s fucked after that night. When he learned about all that you were before, weirdly connected to you through the decades.

It must be the bite isn’t? Shit. He’s more in sync than ever now that you’ve been feeding from him a lot the last few weeks.

Ah. You fucking leech.

my masterlist

[dykedvonte]

If Ulysses has a million haters, then I'm one of them. If Ulysses has one hater, then I'm THAT ONE. If Ulysses has no haters, that means I'm dead. If the world is with Ulysses than I’m against the world.

[callixton]

i am aware that this is a human thing that many people do but seeing raúl stim is something so pleasing to me

[donuts4evry1]

lets ramble abot my first jellyfish oc(s)

Since I'm not planning on making this idea into an actual game anymore, all lore is fair rambling game :)

Their full names are as follows:

Aurealis Aurita Vita (15) and Chrestos Chironex Vita (11)

they are brothers :)

I'll ramble under the cut, hehe

Aurealis Vita was born to Pleione Vita and Chryos Vita, two prominent figures in the noble society. He hails from a kingdom of human-marine animal hybrids, operating under a monarchy of crown jellyfish.

Aurealis themself was a hybrid with moon jellyfish (Aurelia labiata, to be exact) as well as his mother, while his father was a hybrid of a black sea nettle. As a sort of hybrid species, their hair acts like jellyfish tentacles. This fact will be important later.

Chryos was... not the best father, but his mother was loving and warm, so his early years were great.

Then came Chiro.

Aurealis was only 4 years old when Chiro was born and his mother died.

All the odds were against her with the birth. Coming from a long line of box jellyfish hybrids, there was a small chance that she could give birth to one.

Even then, newly born box jellyfish hybrids usually don't have venom potent enough to kill, but Chiro was different. His venom was unusually strong, and Pleione died in childbirth.

Everything changed then. Chryos upgraded from a not good father to an absolutely terrible father- often showing preferential treatment to Chiro and berating Aurealis for not meeting his standards. Sometimes verbally, other times physically. Sorry :(

Chiro himself was a precocious child, showing more interest in books than others. He quickly grew to be more smarter and competent than Aurealis, and stronger too. He often injured Aurealis on accident on account of his deadly hair, which would grow longer or shorter depending on his emotional state.

He still was not happy, however. He longed for affection and validation that didn't come from his father- which only came when he did something destructive.

The servants obviously feared him, and no matter how nice he was, he couldn't help but feel self conscious about their nervous demeanor around him.

Aurealis loathed Chiro, and she would bully him to make themselves feel better. He took the bullying- even internalizing it, because he felt as if his own existence were the cause of all the problems. Admist all that, he gained an interest in nematocytes, and spent much of his time studying them, and finding cures and uses for them.

Eventually, Aurealis had enough of life at home, and ran far, far away, to a whole other place full of different people and different... Everything, really. Leaving Chiro alone. Leaving everything they knew behind.

Honestly, their story came out of a desire for me to write something wholly dramatic and emotional, and I really liked it. I could develop it so much.

I latched onto Aurealis in particular, because her story involved heavy themes of self-hatred and the different ways to cope with it. They belittled others, they acted the opposite of the way they actually felt in a "fake it til you make it" sort of way (ie. ore-sama like). Of course, I give him a redemption arc, but they eventually have to deal with the fallout of their actions and I think that's great :).

Chiro, on the other hand, dealt a lot with gifted kid burnout and a different sort of self-hatred. He feels immense guilt for events that he had no control over, and seeks to fix them. He doesn't feel worthy if he doesn't have anything of worth to offer anyone, and his story is just. Incredibly sad.

Especially since terrible things could happen to him (I haven't decided yet tbh). Which I will ramble about in a different post. All I will say is that I named his theme is named "Lethe" for a narrative reason, hehe.

So anyways. They're the perfect comfort characters.

Recently I've been super into writing the brothers as adults (hence the florist Aurealis) and... Ugh. I've been missing them more and more lately, especially since I still need to write and design for Ite!

[heavenbarnes]

The way olderbf!simon and reader met is so cute even if it’s cliche, because I don’t see that man interacting with anyone unless he’s forced to lmao. If you’re up to it, could you maybe do a drabble on how the beginning/talking stage of their relationship goes? This man probs has to rehearse what he’s going to say 25 times (literally me) and still fumbles over his words but reader is still just 😍 yes this is the man I’m going to marry

they definitely needed a meet cute to me cause honestly? where are their paths ever going to cross without manual intervention? 🫶🏼

after you get that “it’s simon” text from older bf!simon it’s you that actually has to make the first move.

that’s not to say he doesn’t text you or anything, god when doesn’t he text you?

at all odd hours and just about anything-

“at the supermarket”

“what you watching? i’m watching top gear”

“what’s your favourite colour?”

“i’m at the gym”

you were a little confused at first by how abrupt and to-the-point his messages could be.

and then you remembered that this was the same guy who prefers a grunt to the common conversation, he probably thought he was doing great.

so when you were getting in your own head about why he hadn’t asked you out yet, you also remembered that this was the same guy who thought he could fuck up a cappuccino.

he was probably- scared?

whatever it was, you realised if you wanted to see him as bad as you did, you were going to have to pony up and ask yourself.

“did you want to maybe get dinner sometime?”

he called you.

no sooner had the ‘seen’ shown up, he was calling you.

“uh, hello? simon?”

“are y’forreal?”

excuse me?

if anyone else had asked you that question you probably would’ve scoffed and hung up.

he was lucky he was so hunky.

and subtly insecure.

“yes, i’d like to get dinner with you”

he paused, a quiet moment passing between the two of you with only a little shuffling in the background of his line.

and a little shouting in the distance.

was he on base?

“yes please”

you’d been a little distracted trying to pick any little bits of information you could (more than just his favourite colour, it’s green by the way) that you didn’t get his response.

instead, you hummed a little ‘huh?’

“i’d like t’get dinner with’ya, yes please”

“oh- great, i can text you some details?”

“yeah, i’d like that”

you weren’t really sure how to end the call or why he’d even called in the first place- but he wrapped it up with a few mumbles.

“jus’ wanted to hear y’say it, wanted t’make sure”

he shows up at dinner without a mask on and you’re sure you’re staring up at him like he’s made of moonlight but you can’t find it within yourself to care.

fuck he’s handsome.

and broad, the buttoned shirt he’s wearing just stretches over his arms where he’s rolled the sleeves to his elbows.

borderline pornographic.

you try to shut your own mind up, realising all the man’s done is open the restaurant door for you and you’re literally have salacious thoughts about him.

have some decorum!

he pulls out your seat for you but insists on sitting with his back to a wall and a line of sight to the door. you don’t mind, it means the light behind him virtually makes him glow.

fuck he’s handsome.

his voice is so deep you have to lean in on the table to hear him and all it means is you can smell his cologne and feel the heat radiating off of him.

when he locks eyes with the waiter he does a subtle little flick of his fingers and the man’s heading right for him- he really exudes an air of dominance.

if you don’t marry this man you might die.

he asks you a lot of questions and seems genuinely surprised when you ask ‘and you?’ after every one.

surprised that somebody would care.

he answers with an endearing honesty and you feel all the better for knowing he prefers tea to coffee and starts his day with a cold shower.

his hand fidgets on the table part way through dessert and you have to ask what’s wrong.

“y’got a little somethin’ there”

he gestures to the corner of his mouth. it isn’t lost on you that his fingers immediately go back to flexing around the table cloth.

your hand doesn’t even move to wipe your mouth, your eyes soften just a little as you speak instead.

“you can get it if you want?”

his heart all but stops.

big hand rising to your face, fingers cupping your jaw as his thumb wipes the smudge of cream from the corner of your mouth.

he brings his thumb to your mouth when your tongue peeks out to lick the tip of it.

simon’s knee hits the underside of the table.

and you giggle.

fuck he’s handsome.

reluctantly, he lowers his hand but leaves it on your side of the table so you can hold it. his skin feels rough but he thinks it’s never been softer than when you’re holding it.

you both opt to walk home (hand still in hand) and you’ve never felt safer. you spend the entire walk talking about nothing and everything and you could scream when you end up at your front door.

it does allow you both to linger, neither one of you wanting to call it a night quite yet.

simon seems good at lingering, at yearning, at putting off what he doesn’t and does want.

so, like you were the one to make the first move-

you’re the one to make the second.

(his tongue feels great on yours)

you go to bed alone that night and it makes the most sense but it also fucking sucks because you know-

you know what you want.

and what you want is currently walking home beneath streetlights with the biggest smile he’s had this side of enlistment.

you accept the fact you’ll need to take things slow, that he obviously needs time and a lot of reassurance and you’d hate to push him too far with your own desire and-

and your phone buzzes.

“coffee tomorrow morning?”

“yes please”

the talking stage really doesn’t last long.

not when you’re kicking your feet in bed and hugging your phone to your chest.

not when johnny texts simon asking how the date went and he’s responding ‘not bad, might be in love’

talking stage doesn’t last long but everything else does.

it’s simply a doorway into a long and happy life.

[itaipava]

— forms of non-sexual intimacy with f1 boys.

˒ ⌕ LANDO NORRIS

kind of intimacy where you guys do things together that lead to inside jokes and private memories; a beautiful feeling of closeness that comes from working in unison. sometimes it's so subtle and unexpected, it's like the two of you lose your way going somewhere the two of you have never been and one is responsible for the driving and the other for the navigation. maybe a bit of a fight here and there, but both  still working together to reach your destination and knowing you’re never really lost as long as the other is around.

˒ ⌕ GEORSE RUSSELL

kind of intimacy where actions speak louder than words. making - or at least trying - each other's lives a little easier, a little lighter, a little smoother, a little prettier, and a little more bearable. having breakfast ready so you don't forget it when you're in a hurry. wash and dry dishes together after dinner. leaving little love notes in your things to make you smile. the little things he would do only for those he is really close to.

˒ ⌕ CARLOS SAINZ

his favorite form of intimacy is where the two of you give each other undivided and unique attention when you're together; being as busy as he is and having a lot to think about, there's something so beautiful and comforting about focusing on just one person: you. that means ignoring notifications and anything that bothers him aside when he's with you. leaving certain places earlier to spend more time with you. looking adoringly into each other's eyes at random moments where you can swear there are only the two of you in the world.

˒ ⌕ CHARLES LECLERC

distracted physical touches, usually out of habit. when you are watching tv; he reaches out and strokes your hair, plays with your earlobes, or nudges you gently with his foot. and even when you are in public or with other people, he finds himself playing with your hands, your fingers, tracing patterns on your palm or the back of your hand with his thumb, all while casually conversing with another person.

˒ ⌕ LEWIS HAMILTON

bathing together; the form of intimacy in which you fully discover yourself and can appreciate every physical aspect while sharing a genuine and loving atmosphere. him gently washing your body with care and delicacy, as if he had all the time in the world to discover every little universe hidden in your body; he leaves soft kisses on your shoulder and neck as he washes your hair, which makes you smile because together with the little ripples of hot water they tickle your skin. being totally comfortable in each other's presence is what he's always wanted for the two of you since the beginning, and seeing your love growing every day makes his heart race with happiness in his chest.

˒ ⌕ OSCAR PIASTRI

the form of intimacy that grows on common interests and activities. for him, there's nothing quite like coming together because of a mutual love for a particular tv show, or during an animated monopoly game or mobile games, or an underrated book. thinking about each other whenever see or hear about it. simple but precious memories resulting from losing sleep because you were too excited at that show or playing together all night.

˒ ⌕ LIAM LAWSON

the kind of intimacy that only grows and flourishes with time, the true meaning of “making life” together. the kind where the two of you help each other grow in every aspect of life; supporting and rooting for each other's victory but also being there and taking care of each other in defeats. it's when you start to know each other's thoughts, times and patterns as if there is an invisible bond that grows each day between the two of you; like it always connects the two of you even when you're not physically together. it's the form of intimacy where you only know and understand each other on a very deep level.

˒ ⌕ MAX VERSTAPPEN

a kind of pure, genuine intimacy that encourages each other; listen to each other's dreams, fears, stories and secrets without judgment and show that no matter what, you will be there for each other. always cheering and supporting each other's hobbies, which always makes your heart warm to remember that someone is genuinely rooting for you and that even if you fail, that person will not give up on you.

[pholla-jm]

Heir (2)

IMAGINE: HEIR~ SUKUNA X WIFE!READER GENRE: FLUFF cw: sukuna is a bit ooc. f!reader. true form sukuna. not proof read

If you haven't read the first part, here it is: Heir. ***************

As months went by, your stomach got bigger and rounder. Your back was certainly hurting, feet aching, and a constant need to go pee. 

You almost hated every second of it. 

If it wasn’t for the fact you were bringing life into the world, you would’ve hated every second of it. 

Someone that was almost more excited than you was your lover, Sukuna. He was dead set on the baby being a boy. He was so excited to raise a boy to create a future heir. 

He even already picked out a name for him. Akumu, not a common name but it was one that Sukuna liked and it was set. 

However, you had a feeling that you were having a daughter. But, Sukuna was not hearing any of that. But just in case, you picked out a name just in case it was a girl. You wanted to have a similar vibe that Sukuna wanted so you chose Yumekui. 

You were very close to your due date and you were extremely nervous. You felt like you weren’t ready. You felt the nursery wasn’t ready or that things weren’t baby proofed enough. 

That’s why you paced around the castle, trying to get things ready. You didn’t care that your feet ached and your back was crying for help. All you cared about was making sure that everything was ready and perfect for the baby.

You know who did care? Sukuna. He didn’t like how you are constantly on your feet, pacing around and just being worried in general. 

“Woman.” Sukuna calls out once he finds you wandering the halls. You turn to him, already knowing you’re about to get scolded. “You should be resting.” You pout a little, “but do you see that over there?” You say while pointing to an area where a sharp corner was protruding. 

Sukuna follows your finger, “yeah. What about it?” “What if the baby hurts themselves from that?” Sukuna rolls his eyes, “you’re being paranoid. Our son will be strong. A corner is not going to harm him.” 

There’s that word again. Son. You often thought about what his reaction would be if it was a daughter instead. Would he be mad? Would he kick the both of you out? Would he kill the child? All these negative thoughts clouded your mind daily. 

That’s why when the time came, you really didn’t want Sukuna in the room- just the midwives. However, Sukuna wanted to be in the room with you and no one was really going to defy his orders. 

Sukuna was being super supportive though during the whole process. He held your hand and let you squeeze as hard as you wanted, even though it felt like a little pinch to him. He also kept a clean towel to wipe the sweat off of you. Even the sly cursing didn’t affect him. 

The process felt like hours and you were sure you looked like a hot mess. Sukuna didn’t care though. In his eyes you were still the most beautiful woman. 

You could feel the baby coming through and it was only confirmed by the midwife when she said the head was crowning and you only needed to do a couple more pushes. 

You were happy to hear that as you started to feel more tired and weak with every second that passed by. 

Finally, you heard the sound of an infant crying. Relief washed through your body. Until you heard the words you didn’t want to hear.

“Congratulations. It’s a girl.” 

You felt Sukana’s grip on your hand loosen until he completely lets go of your hand.

You could feel your heart drop and your skin paled. You wanted to grab the baby before Sukuna did. But you were too weak to sit up correctly. 

“W-wait..” Your voice only came out as a whisper as your back hit the bed. “I want..” You couldn’t speak anymore as your head lolled to the side. You could feel a midwife trending to your side. 

The last thing you saw was the midwife holding the child and Sukuna walking up to the child. You could see the subtle frown on his face as he looked down at the small baby. After that, your vision went black as you went into a peaceful slumber. 

*************

Everything felt sore. Extremely sore. It took you a minute to come to your senses. But when you remember your situation, you sit up. Hoping to find your daughter safe and sound. 

However, what you saw was the last thing you expected.

Your daughter was swaddled, in the crib sound asleep. 

What shocked you even more was Sukuna. The man who said who wanted a son, stood at the crib admiring his child. 

His large body was bent over so his arms were crossed and leaning against the edge. His head was tilted to the side and resting on his arms. You would have never guessed you would see a sight like this. He looked almost… soft. All though, you would never say that to him. 

Sukuna heard the rustling of the sheets causing him to sit up a little. 

“I’m glad you’re awake.” He says and you nod your head. 

“Are you mad?” You softly ask him. “Why would I be mad?” “You know… for having a daughter. Not a son, like you wanted.” 

Sukuna laughs, but not too loudly to wake the baby. 

Sure, he was a bit upset when he heard that it was a girl. But as soon as her eyes opened, the same red color as his, he swore he could feel his heart stop. The cries were weak and pathetic in his opinion. However, when the midwife handed her over to him, her cries stopped. The baby looked up at him with wonder and she showed him a gummy smile. 

Sukuna would never tell you that as soon as her cries stopped he started to love the child. 

“No. She’s so small. I decided that having a daughter isn’t too bad.” You chuckle at his answer and peer over the crib, getting a good look at your daughter. 

Even though she was a few hours old, you could tell that she was Sukuna’s daughter. You could only imagine what she would look like when she gets older.

“She looks just like you.” You mutter, a little upset that you carried her for so long and she came out looking like her father. 

“Of course she does. My genetics are strong.” “Hmm, we’ll see with the next baby.” 

Sukuna grins at your words, “the next baby? Already planning for another?” “Wait, wait,” you giggle while holding your hand up, “I don’t mean that just yet. I still have to heal.”  Sukuna hums, silently agreeing. “Next time, it’ll be a boy. I’ll make sure of it.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagging: @lotuskassagi

[thief-of-eggs]

I think, given his… erm, past, that Alastor would view murder as an appropriate form of showing affection.

He does it for all the hotel inhabitants. Everyone who starts to grow on him, who’s wellbeing he begins to care about, despite himself.

It happens with Charlie first. A sinner out on the streets talks a little too poorly about her and her hotel, her dreams, her ideas. She hears and it brings her down for only a moment (she always was one to recover quickly) but the short moment is enough for Alastor.

They find the sinner’s body impaled on the wrought iron fence the next morning. No one fully understands why Alastor seems particularly giddy about it.

The next time, it’s Angel. A client sees him outside of work, and seems to forget that he isn’t owed time he doesn’t pay for. Alastor’s shadow grows behind him, and after steering Angel and the others away, Alaator guides the man down a darkened alley.

He eats the man whole, enlarging his head to do so. He returns to the others with the man’s shiny golden tooth, which he’d spit out after devouring him, and he drops onto Angel’s hand without an explanation.

For Lucifer, it’s a bit more subtle, or at least harder to detect. Because Lucifer didn’t even know that the bodies he’s constantly finding outside his room belonged to individuals who’d once mocked his name. He hadn’t known that they’d belittled him, called him weak, called him a coward.

Alastor knew. Which is why, one by one, he picks them off. His memory is carved from stone, and he remembers each and every greatest offender.

And what better place to leave his kill than at Lucifer’s door? Like a cat presenting his master with a caught mouse, he brings his trophies back to Lucifer, depositing them where he is sure to find them and be proud.

Eventually, everyone figures it out- Alastor was never hiding it, but the others didn’t know to look for it either. They piece together that all it takes is an insult in front of Alastor, and suddenly the offender is missing, or perhaps they come across their body shortly after. Death is so common in Hell, that it takes them a while to get it.

When confronted he’ll shrug and hum, offering a half hearted wave of his hand. “I’m just doing my civic duty as patron of this hotel” he says, casually examining his claws.

No one really knows what to say. They are not used to love that is so vicious, so violent. So damning. Red paints not only Alastor’s heart but also his hands, staining him further with every act of affection.

It’s all he knows. The only way he understands to express his indebtedness to the others, the only way to carve out a bit of himself and present itself to the others for them to adore.

It’s unconventional, but so is everything that Alastor ever does.

And for the others… Well. In a place like Hell-? It’s not exactly a bad way to receive love, so long as it keeps them all safe.

[kooberryfields4ever]

hehe😏😏 what did i say😏😏 finally posting this after more than half a year of abandoning the idea!!!!!!!! as a long time jungkooker i have observed his mannerisms for a while and i think my delusions will guide me down the right path <333 please let me know ur thoughts and as always my asks/requests are very much open to both hard and soft thoughts!!!!!! 🥺

content warnings : nsfw below the cut, handjobs, jerking off, mentions of oral, mentions of cumming inside, unprotected sex, protected sex, boobs, yadda yadda its the nsfw alphabet what do u expect😒

MDNI !

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

the sweetest <3333

cannot imagine jungkook being anything but attentive and romantic when he tends to u after sex

also cant see him as too dominant or rough during sex so aftercare is probably just kisses cuddles and pillow talk

maybe some boob groping because he cannot help himself

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

do i even need to say it

boobs, boobies, tits, honkers, knockers, breasts etc

LOVES UR TITS. like i do not care what anybody says jungkook is a titty lover, a boobie connoisseur

likes to just hold them because he is gentle and lovely and ur boobs are his home

wants them in his mouth almost all of the time

favourite part of him is probs his arms

very proud of his muscles and very very attracted to the way u seem addicted to them

loves when u dig ur nails into them when he fucks u

also loves when u get overwhelmed with cuteness aggression and feel the need to bite him and gnaw on his arm like a teething toy

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

clean boy

i dont think hes all too feral about doing it inside but if ur fucking raw then inside is the cleanest option for him

first man on earth to… prefer a condom?

of course fucking u raw is his absolute pleasure but he likes the quick and easy cleanup a condom provides

on the off chance jungkook likes to get messy :) if hes in that mood expect cum on ur face, tits or on ur pussy

not an absolutely rare occurrence just not entirely common

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

did u guys expect me to say anything but panty lover

likes them all but especially cute cotton ones that are well loved <3

ones with a little bow and a subtle lace trim

maybe the pattern is somewhat childish but that makes them all the more endearing to him

if he sees u wearing them TRUST he will be in a messy mood. he cant help himself

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

pains me to admit but jungkook gets bitches😥😥

maybe not drowning in pussy, we’ve all seen the singular neck pillow on his bed

just cannot imagine a world where jungkook looks the way he looks and doesnt fuck?????? that is a world i quite frankly dont want to live in if so.

been in the industry long enough to know how to get around dispatch rumours, also hybe/bh paying off major drama media companies lolol

i think hes had enough sex to know what he likes but jungkook is a romantic at heart and i truly believe if he found The One we would know about it

so i think theres some things unexplored bc theyre things he wants to experience with the love of his life<333

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

missionary

DONT YAWN.

just likes seeing ur face and also likes to display his strength and hold ur hips up so he can fuck u deeper

also likes that he can see when u grip onto his arms and if he really wants to he can duck his head down and bury his face in ur tits

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

yeah jk gets goofy asf

cannot imagine serious sex with him really i think hes immune to being serious ever

even if it gets a little more serious at some point there will always be a joke or a giggle inserted somewhere between

he cannot help himself sorry.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

jungkook my lovely clean boy <33

not completely razor shaven but trims regularly and keeps it neat

not a fan of stray pubes and whatnot. thinks its unhygienic

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

despite his goofy silly boy nature i think jungkook is incredibly intimate

likes to be slow and likes drawn out foreplay

this is jungkook we’re talking about……. lover of romance and soulmates and close bonds

needs to be practically combined with u when u fuck, never feels like he gets deep enough

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

dont think hes a big fan of jerking it honestly

at least not alone

loves a bit of mutual masturbation i reckon so if he does need to wank best believe he’s either calling u or texting u

its always better when hes right there with u tho, with u straddling his lap while he strokes himself and watches u get off on his thigh

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

hehe praise

for u or for him. doesnt matter

will get into this in a sec but jk dabbles in submission so expect whimpers and moans when u tell him what a good boy he is and goad him on when hes following instructions well

loves whispering how pretty u are and reminding u how much he loves u and loves ur body and thinks ur the most gorgeous person in the world

atp its just him. like i dont think he could stop himself i think he gets off on praising u

lazy sub when he does sub for u :)

less about being in the mood to sub and more about not being in the mood to do anything else

wants u to do the work and likes if u get a little mean about it

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

the couch lol

jungkook is one of those people thats just very passionate and when hes horny it needs to happen there and then

so i just cant picture u making it to his bed fast enough for his liking

his couch is big enough anyway

but make no mistake…….. morning sex

therefore beds!!!!!!!! loves fucking u in the morning because it feels so domestic and intimate and lovely and therefore loves fucking u in his bed

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

not much

libra venus lol

but its usually just from his need to be close to u and whats closer than being literally inside of u

just a lovely boy …. :( would probs get so hard just seeing u look pretty on the couch next to him while u watch tv

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

degradation probably

not a fan of being mean to u outside of a little teasing

none of that “slut”, “bitch”, “whore” business

id also say hitting but i think jungkook could get into a bit of that if the circumstances are right

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

i think he prefers receiving but isnt against eating u out

doesnt even like getting head much himself

prefers a handjob the same way he would prefer to finger u

dont think hes bad at it tho. knows the basics and primarily uses it as foreplay so orgasm is not always necessary

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

both?

depends on his mood and the circumstances in which he is fucking u

mostly slow and sensual though, maybe a mix between if he’s close

hehehe…….. probs doesnt even pull out too far when he fucks u, just wants to stay buried in u so he prefers rolling his hips slowly and grinding into u

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

not opposed to them but not his favourite

prefers when foreplay lasts forever to the point that ur both basically about to cum

but quickies are sometimes unavoidable :/

will make up for it later :)

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

i dont think so …… i dont think hes a scaredy cat but hes very cautious of things that may hurt u or that may cause harm

like probably not a very public lover aside from basic pda (he has to show u off????)

would cover ur mouth to keep u quiet when he lived in the dorms

i think hed be too embarrassed if he got caught fucking, hes cute not arrogant

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

i think jungkook can go for a while and i think he can hold out for longer than most

enjoys taking his time with u and that of course would not work if he was desperate to cum five minutes in

i also think … he … .. perh aps…,.., enjoys being overstimulated…,,??

so cumming more than once :) is fun :)

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

ermmm probably not?

likes the real thing and doesnt like the noises

would maybe invest in a hitachi for u but cant think of anything he would use on himself

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

not very unfair, likes to give in to u cos it shows u want him that bad and thats what gets him going

however

if jungkooks feeling submissive then yes please tease him

be mean and make him beg

and even still dont give in :)

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

moaner

like come on ? its jungkook we’re talking about

if he didnt moan id be seriously worried .

not necessarily loud, but u can definitely hear him from outside the door

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

can imagine him getting home after a long day and hes been thinking about u but cannot be bothered to move from the couch

and u look so pretty beside him so (because hes a baby) he reaches out to touch ur thigh and whines a little

maybe even pouts because hes such a massive tease

and who are u to deny him ? when he looks so pretty and u know he just wants u to look after him

and so u climb into his lap and straddle him…… and his hands roam over your hips and ass absentmindedly

and when ur kissing ur hand trails lower and lower until ur palming him over the fabric of his sweats and building him up until hes rock hard

whispering that he has to be a good boy for u or else he wont get rewarded, and obviously he nods because he loves being ur good boy

but his hands wander a bit too much for ur liking and so u bite his lower lip and spank his hip gently before sneaking ur hand past the waistband of his sweats and underwear to grip his length

and of course hes dripping, how wouldnt he be ??

so u indulge him and spread his precum down his cock before stroking him slowly, nudging his clothes down to get a better look

and hes so fucked out that his head tips backwards, his wandering hands gripping your hips firmly

and despite the mess, hes delicate when he cums, spilling over his shirt and moaning softly, thanking u with sweet murmurs and a gentle hand rubbing ur thigh

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

self-identified horse cock

just kidding but i think hes a little bigger than average

probs more on the girth side than anything else

i dont think its anything extreme, i think its enough for u to notice but nothing that will carve out ur insides

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

i think sex is an expression of his love language a little so i think he has a higher sex drive

but not in a horny ggrrrr ooga booga woof woof way but in a please can i just be inside u forever and make a home within ur walls way

will probs want sex more often than ur average guy but its never pressure its more just like a natural progression of cuddling and being around him

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

probably not gonna fall asleep for a while after

if hes subbing then maybe sooner than any other times u have sex

but mostly when its over he will stay up to shower and eat and maybe play some games before he falls asleep

[hyperballart]

last nite

art donaldson x patrick zweig x reader !

art and patrick aren’t exactly subtle, and you are the push they didn’t know they needed.

(18+ pls!!)

author’s note: that one bitch (me) who doesn’t play about homoerotic friendships… this is mostly artrick but they all get nasty trust!

the swishing of the cheap beer from art’s mini fridge overlaps the song playing from the radio. it was something you recognized from this new york band you really liked—your friend had gifted you that record for your birthday a few years prior—you hummed out the tune as you sat on the desk chair of your friend’s dorm room, periodically lifting your gaze to the two boys also sharing the space.

you and patrick met at a local band’s show, that same night ended with you being pushed into the dark bathroom of the bar it was held at and you nearly swallowing each other’s tongues. he whispered into your ear about how good you tasted, how nice your ass felt in his hands, how fucking sexy you looked dancing out there. and after he bent you over the sink to get a taste of your sweet cunt and you returned the favor, the brunette gave you his number—it surprised you, that he wanted to continue seeing you and maybe take it further. it wasn’t until a couple hangouts that you met art.

he was by definition a good boy. always respectful and cordial around you, sweet, and even bashful at times. you coincidentally attended the same university—even shared common friends other than patrick. the three of you became well acquainted quickly. movie nights in art’s dorm when patrick came to visit, night drives to the beach, it was all simple and fun.

of course you and patrick hooked up whenever he came around, which seemed to frequent as he was on a month-long break from tour. on one of those particular nights, as you were riding him, somehow the topic of art came up.

“saw him at practice last week,” you take his earlobe between your teeth and slightly tug, “he’s really good.”

patrick stutters his hips and unwillingly twitches inside of you, as if images of his best friend playing flashed through his brain in those few seconds, “fuck, yeah he’s always been good.” his brain is too foggy to comprehend that he’s given away something you’ve been suspecting for a while—and you’ll keep digging to find what you really want.

you look down at him on the bed and notice how his mouth has dropped a bit further and his eyes become more slanted, you push your fingers into his mouth which he automatically starts to suck, and you ride him until he’s whimpering around them and filling you up. you’ll get something else out of him soon.

the next time happens to be the night right after, you’re at your favorite ice cream place and decide it’s the right time to keep prodding.

“you and art—you seem pretty close—how long have you known each other again?” you scrape the sides of your cup from the melted treat and look at him eating his.

“well, we went to boarding school together,” patrick speaks with some waffle cone bits crunching in his mouth—a horrible habit of his you have come to detest from the few months of knowing him—“we shared a room since we were 12, i think i’ve mentioned this,” he swallows everything in his mouth down and continues, “we are pretty close. we’d get teased for it a lot in school—i never really gave a fuck but you know art. he takes things to heart.”

“right, i can see that,” you didn’t exactly plan out how you were going to lead him to where you wanted but you get an idea, “i wanna know more. tell me some fun stories, i can imagine you two got up to a lot of trouble,” you fully turn to face him in your seat.

he racks his brain for a while and eventually, “one time i got caught with porno magazines under my bed and i blamed art. it was this whole thing—his grandma gave him an earful over the phone—god she was pissed,” a chuckle leaves him as he recalls the story, “anyway, we almost got kicked out and he didn’t speak to me for weeks. can’t remember how we made up or how i even got in possession of those magazines but we definitely learned our lesson.”

you’re giggling, “god you’re awful, what else have you put poor innocent art through?”

he turns to face you now, “i taught him everything he knows,” a smug smirk slowly takes over his expression, “ taught him how to kiss and how to jerk off. poor thing didn’t even know how to handle morning wood before i showed him.”

and there’s your chance, “so you two have like…”

he pauses and takes in your assumption, “oh god no, not like that,” a hand runs down his face quickly as a laugh of disbelief leaves him. “we’ve never—would never go there, you know? no shame to anyone who does we just—it was practice before we started dating and all that. was just helping him out.”

and well, that gave you enough of an incentive.

now you’re all in art’s dorm, a little buzzed from the alcohol and tired from a day at the beach. patrick sits on a small couch with his legs spread. both boys have decided to forgo their shirts, only in their swim trunks—patrick’s much shorter than the blonde’s. you still in your bikini top and tiny jean shorts.

“what about that girl you were seeing, what’s her name again?” patrick interrogates a clearly agitated art who sits on the floor rolling his eyes.

“i told you that’s over, she wasn’t looking for anything serious and i found out the hard way.”

“he means he saw her making out with one of his buddies at a frat party,” you add smirking over your bottle.

“okay, fuck off first of all—“

“hey, man calm down, look—“ patrick interjected, “there’s lots of chicks that would bang you, i’m sure a pretty boy like you has no problem getting laid. go charm up some nice girl that volunteers at the soup kitchen on her free time and—“

“fuck you patrick.” there’s no malice behind his words though—and you can spot the blush that takes over his pale complexion at the previous remark as he shakes his head. “it’s easy for you to say,” he looks up at you as he says it, “you guys fuck like rabbits any chance you get.”

“is that what it is then? you being pent up?” you cut in. “there’s lot of girls here who would love to fuck you, artie. you’re telling me none have caught your eye?”

art is silent, looking to see what patrick was thinking, but the latter simply looks curious—excited almost— and so he just sits picking at the hem of his shorts.

“oh i get it,” you continue, “you’re jealous. you think i’m taking your precious best friend away, don’t you?” you slide down from the chair to take a spot right next to him and whisper the next thing so only he hears, “you are jealous. don’t worry, we can share him.”

you pull back to see his pupils dilated and his mouth slightly parted, in shock and arousal—maybe even in acceptance. you can’t help the small grin as you look from him to the other still sitting on the couch, you can see his chest rising a bit heavier now.

you feel that as an agreement from both as you perch on the bed and call them both to follow at each of your sides. you can feel them eyeing you and for a split second, you see them staring at each other in a way that surpasses anything platonic they insist on having.

when you feel them both lean in to opposite sides of your neck you halt their movements. a look of confusion passes through their faces as they wait for you to explain.

“i think you guys have some making up to do,” the look on their faces creases further, “art, aren’t you curious to feel what his lips are like again? i have a feeling he has improved greatly since you were 13.”

art’s face falls, he looks at patrick in annoyance, “you said you would never tell, dude what the fuck.”

patrick just shrugs, still wanting to proceed. “i told you, that was only for practice. we’re grown now.”

“sure,” you pretend to let it go and you have on a stupid smile that he just wants to kiss off your face. you start leaning towards patrick and grant him that wish, using your hand on his jaw to give you access to his tongue. it quickly becomes heated, you land on his lap and grind yourself on the hard bulge in his trunks. his big hand gropes your ass and he moans greedily in your mouth. you pull away and let him suck and nip on the length of your neck before looking at art, who looks pitiful with his mouth hung open and his eyes lingering on the spot where patrick is occupied. a smirk returns to your swollen lips.

you tug on patricks hair and swivel even harder on his dick, leading to him groaning out a fuck me baby, and you swear you see art’s cock twitch under the layer of thin clothing. you leave patricks lap despite his efforts to keep you there, now sat on the pretty blonde who can’t seem to figure out what to do with his hands. you stop his stressing when you place both of his palms on your hips, trailing them up to your barely-covered tits where he gives a soft squeeze and lets out a little whine. you finally lean down to kiss him and it’s as you’d expect from him—tentative and soft. a kiss you’d get from a boyfriend after a nice dinner date—not from whatever this was.

he lets out hums and low moans, but you can tell he’s getting desperate. god knows how long it’s been since he’s fucked something other than his hand. you pull away and return to your spot between them. they instantly both try to catch your lips, it’s messy with all three of you licking and sucking and kissing. at this point no one knows whose mouth is whose, and it doesn’t even matter because suddenly you’re pulling off. you lean back to catch your breath and then you see them.

they lick into each other’s mouths, art is mewling and patrick grips his curls to hold him in place. they seem to catch on after a ridiculous amount of time but when they do, they stare at you while they’re heaving breaths.

“are you guys gonna take care of that?” you look down at their laps, both having matching leaks of pre bleeding through their shorts. “come on get them out, you’ve seen each other plenty before right? nothing to be shy of.”

they both listen, each erection slapping up and standing on its own. it’s obscene and you dont think you’ve ever been this wet in your life. art’s cock is so pretty—you think—pink and curved. he is smooth, you always had assumed he would be anyway. you can tell he takes good care of himself, his balls the same flushed pink he gets on his cheeks when you tease him. the tip of him is so red, a dribble of white streaming down when he notices your attention on his cock—you almost coo at it when it twitches.

then you look at patrick. that same cock you love and worship. he’s thicker in girth, your pussy pulsates when your mind trails to the stretch he gives you. his balls are heavy, and he doesn’t ever fully shave them. you like them like that—the musk and how they give friction to your clit when hes fucking you. he’s also drooling from his tip. you decide to start off slow.

you scoot forwards and extend your arms to their laps. each one of your hands holds them and at the contact, they can’t help but buck their hips. you think it’s adorable to see them synchronized like that.

“ah, shit!” patrick throws his head back and looks down at you jerking him off, then looks to his right at the other cock in your hand and shakes his head in disbelief, “i can’t—fuck—i can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“i see the way you look at him, pat,” you quicken the speed of your hands and both of them cry out, “i gave you both what you wanted, handed on a silver fucking platter. i think you should be a little more grateful. in fact, my hands are getting tired,” and with that, you cut all contact with them and you can quite literally see them wilt.

“wha- no, please,” art manages to get through a whine, “my hand doesn’t—it doesn’t feel as good i’m so hard it hurts, please—“

“who said anything about using your own hand?”you cut him off.

patrick hesitantly stretches his arm over his friend’s lap, “we’re just,” his fingers make contact with art’s dick and he almost drools, “helping each other out.” an experimental tug has his back arching and makes him shut his eyes tight.

“pat-patrick—oh fuck.”

one would think art already came by how much he’s wetting his friend’s hand, and patrick seems to be mesmerized by the sight. “holy fuck art, look at how much you’re spilling,” as if on cue, that makes him squirt out more. art is gripping his sheets and his eyes dart from the hand stroking him fast and the boy in front of him.

“i’m—don’t go so fucking fast,” art tries to get out, “it’s been a while if—nghh—if you don’t slow down i’m gonna—fuck!” patrick clearly enjoys this as he can’t help laughing at his state.

“don’t tell me you’re a virgin, artie,” he slows down but continues teasing, “thought i taught you how to hold off better than that.”

and while you’d love to keep watching art squirm under his torture, you stop him, “i got an idea.”

patrick reluctantly pulls away and they both now stare expectantly, “push both of your cocks together, here like this—“ you direct them to sit with their legs spread in front of each other, overlapping and then you position them how you want them.

they can’t even speak, they’re just panting and looking down at the contact until you continue, “come on pat, hold both of them together,” you watch as he does so and grimaces trying to hold off, “look at that, your tips are kissing—how cute.”

they both whine and patrick mutters a shut up under his breath.

after a minute of heavy breathing, patricks large hand slowly strokes down on both of their cocks. it’s so wet, the sound of the slicking lewdly filling up the room but the sound of their cries is almost enough to drown it out. art is almost sobbing at this point, you’ve never heard someone sound so desperate. they almost can’t bare the friction of each other, their tangled legs twitching and shaking.

you almost start to get annoyed at how slow patrick is going for the sake of making the feeling last, but in a way you think it’s sweet. the years they’ve held off on each other finally leading to this—they deserved it. you’re still annoyed tho.

“go faster,” as the words leave your mouth they both mewl and shake their heads, “you look so hot like this, i’m so wet. i’m thinking of letting you both fuck me—at the same time. just like this, both in my cunt,” patrick’s hand loosens his grip he is almost shivering now, he has to hold off, “why’d you let go, hm?” you pull his hand back on, “i want you both to imagine it, it’s gonna be a tighter fit than this,” you pull your hand over patrick’s and tighten the grip hard, “there you go.”

art can’t even make out words anymore, the second he heard you say you wanted them both at once, his ears started ringing. as if that wasn’t enough, the tightened grip made him moan out pleas over and over. when he looks down, he knows he can’t hold longer and he lets you both know, “i’m gonna, i can’t it’s too much, too much, too tight i—“

you take this as your chance to do what you wanted since you saw the tent in his shorts, you lean down to where they are connected and suckle on his tip and that does it. he sobs out a curse and starts twitching, he cums all over your lips and patrick, you can’t believe how much is coming out of him.

patrick just about loses his mind when he sees it all happen. it’s a miracle he lasted over two minutes like this and he’s about to pass out, “oh fuck me, yeah fucking soak that dick—oh god— you’re so wet—how do you get this fucking—“ he suddenly yanks art by his neck and fucks his tongue into his mouth again, and even tho he is still dizzy from his orgasm, he kisses back just as messily. that’s the final straw for patrick to cum all over them and squeeze their tips together for the last time that night.

you watch it all happen with a lazy smile. they both lay down, still out of it while you scratch their heads gently and murmur sweet affirmations to them. you’re between them and it feels just right. you don’t need to talk about what happened just yet. just sleepily kiss each other until you knock out.

they’ll make up not making you cum tomorrow, you can picture them both licking between your legs and when they take turns suckling your clit, you’ll pretend not to notice how they’re jerking each other off out of your sight <3

[2amriize]

hiii can u do bsf riize obliviously in love with bsfreader !!

˚⟡˖ when he is obliviously in love with you— RIIZE

ᡣ𐭩 masterlist

genre fluff

pairing bsf!riize x bsf!reader

ᯓ★ SHOTARO

You could tell Shotaro was in love with you by the way he always tried to make you laugh. He would always try to cheer you up, and he’d be especially concerned when he saw you feeling down or sad. He’d show up at your house with your favorite food and a small plush toy—one of the many he had already given you as part of your growing collection. Then, the two of you would settle on your couch, and he would put his arm around your shoulder.

"You know I'll always be by your side, right?"

ᯓ★ EUNSEOK

He would always have his eyes on you. Everyone could tell that whenever you were around, he couldn't stop looking at you, always with a small smile on his face. He would practically treat you like his girlfriend. He’d stand on the side of the road if you were walking together, put his hand on your waist if there were a lot of people around, and buy things that reminded him of you. You found it very cute that he did these kinds of things for you, but since he never asked you out, you thought he was just being (very) nice to you.

ᯓ★ SUNGCHAN

It was kind of obvious with Sungchan by the way he was super protective of you. He always wanted to accompany you to parties and keep an eye on you so no strange guy would approach you. Or rather, so no guy in general would approach you. More than protective, he couldn’t stand it when a guy started talking to you, so he’d always end up coming over to say, "y/n, I need to talk to you," just to pull you aside and then say, "oh, I forgot what I wanted to say..."

ᯓ★ WONBIN

He would blush. He’d blush and get a bit shy every time you were around. Even though you had known each other for years and talked almost every day, he couldn’t help but let out the occasional nervous laugh whenever he was with you. He also tended to send you a lot of messages, something he didn’t do with anyone else.

"Oh, that character looks like you. It’s really cute," he’d say every time he saw a character he found adorable.

ᯓ★ SEUNGHAN

I feel like Seunghan would be quite direct, so it confused you a lot. You had been friends for years, but a few months ago, the way he treated you had changed. You realized it one day when you were walking around your neighborhood while having ice cream. You were basically wearing your pajamas, with a sweatshirt on top in case it got cold, but Seunghan couldn’t stop looking at you. Suddenly, he took out his phone and snapped a picture of you while smiling.

“What are you doing, Seunghan? Delete that, I’m literally in pajamas.”

“Wow, you’re literally an angel. I think I’ll make this my wallpaper…”

ᯓ★ SOHEE

Sohee had always been cheerful and playful with you, and he loved teasing you. But lately, his personality when you were together had changed a bit. Now, every time you were close to him, you could sense a subtle tension in the air, a mix of nervousness and something else you hadn’t felt before. There were also many awkward silences, and you had caught him staring at you several times. His gestures had changed too. It was now more common for him to offer you his jacket when it was cold. Recently, he had even made you a playlist titled "To My Soulmate."

ᯓ★ ANTON

Oh… You could tell, but from his posts and reposts. He wouldn’t stop talking about how much he liked someone, that he couldn’t stop thinking about someone, etc., etc. But whenever you asked him who he was talking about, he’d ignore the subject or simply say, "Oh, just a girl I know," while avoiding your gaze, which made it even more obvious. Plus, everyone kept telling you how Anton would always talk about you to everyone when you weren’t around.

“I wish y/n was here…”

ᡣ𐭩 masterlist

[soov]

𔓕　CUSTOM-MADE。ㅤ𝓨ang 𝓙ungwon

（ 命 ）fem reader 、15OO words　fluff ⋄ college au, fashion student ! jungwon, situationship　─　kisses, suggestive (?), pet names。

“Do you like it?”

The black pen that was being spun around between Jungwon’s fingers stopped its movements as he held it with a bit too much force. He tilted his head towards you and chuckled sweetly, “Love it, even. Give me a twirl?”

Doing as he requested, you smiled bashfully like every other time you tried on his pieces. “Feels a bit awkward to breathe in this shirt, Won. The right side’s too tight.” You took wary steps towards him, fiddling with the ends of the miniskirt carefully so as not to prickle your finger with the pins.

He hurried to your side with his measuring tape in hand, “Really? It looks perfect on you.” Jungwon frowned, worrying more about your comfort than having to redo the shirt.

“Yeah, but I don’t think you need to adjust it.” You commented as his tape encircled your ribs. You had to suck in a breath when he playfully squeezed your side to ease you up. “Did you wash it? The cotton could’ve shrunk.”

“Mm, yeah, I did. Must be it.” He nodded and wrote down your measurements before approaching you again with a cheeky grin.

Jungwon grabbed your hands into his soft ones and guided you to the studio’s mirror. “Look at you.” He went behind you so you’d have a better view of yourself. “You look so beautiful in this set.” 

And he wasn’t lying when he said that. He had been working on the beige blazer, plaid skirt, and snug shirt for the past few weeks. Jungwon felt incredibly happy with the outcome and how it fits your body; after all, he knew it like the back of his hand, and it would be surprising if something — apart from the minor washing incident — went wrong.

”You’re flattering me too much, Won. You should be proud of yourself first.” Staring at your attire, you did your best not to react to how he wrapped you up in his arms, his broad chest glued to your back.

“Oh, I am. I’m getting better, right? But I’m not flattering you enough.” Jungwon spoke lightly, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You look stunning. It would be a sin not to praise how gorgeous you look in it.” 

You looked away from the mirror at how vocal the fashion student was. It was common to see him make a few nice comments and go back to grumbling about how he should’ve used a different kind of fabric, not kiss the ground you walked on.

His caresses, on the other hand, were too familiar, even when you two were stuck in a weird friendship with lover benefits. You didn’t mind it when one of you snuck a quick kissing session between his sewing and clothing adjustments, which also seemed to be his subtle plan for the day.

Jungwon dipped his curved nose to your neck, right before the collar of your blazer started, “I have a new project for my next class. Might make you that dress you wanted so much.” The boy mumbled, lazily pressing open-mouthed kisses to your neck. 

Holding the strong arms that were around your stomach, you tilted your head back to give him more access and gasped, “Really? You’re not joking, right?”

”Of course not.” He let out a small laugh and the sound reverberated against your skin. His plump lips pressed to the sensitive spot under your ear for a few seconds before pulling away. “You’ve been my model since senior year, I need to start making more of the clothes you want.”

The promise was so simple and stupid, but you still turned to latch yourself onto him. 

“You’re the best, did you know that?” You cupped his cheeks and pecked his whole face, to which he replied with a satisfied hum. 

After your kisses landed on every possible place but his favorite one, Jungwon raised his index and meekly tapped his mouth. “Missed a spot, doll.” He reminded with his eyebrows raised.

His tap on his lips made you laugh, happiness bubbling inside you. Jungwon didn’t even bother to move his eyes elsewhere when you caught his gaze, maintaining eye contact for as much as possible.

You took a moment to drink in the sight of him as he did to you. His bangs fell perfectly just above his eyes, and his mouth curled up in a small beam. He looked so cute when he was excited — you could see the stars in his irises just from knowing he’d get a kiss. Unhurriedly, you leaned in, your hands still cradling his face, and pressed your lips to his.

The act was tender and quite desperate, but there was no one to blame except the three weeks when the boy had been cooped up in his studio. Jungwon’s lips were so sweet that you swore you were going to get a cavity just from the kiss.

He was getting so lost into you, nearly whining as his hands squeezed your body, head dizzy. But then, almost as if afraid of crossing an invisible line, Jungwon pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. His eyelids were still closed, his breathing uneven, and you could feel his nervousness in the way he held you.

“Relax,” you soothed despite digging your fingers into his strong triceps.

He responded with another hum, his palms slipping under the fabric of the shirt he had made, his fingers brushing against your warm skin. The tailor trailed his mouth along your cheeks, up to your temples, the sensation littering your skin in goosebumps.

You felt his hot breath on the side of your face as he mumbled, “You’re everything to me.” 

Truth be told, he wanted to be yours, needed you, but didn’t dare to voice it. The fear of crossing the line, of changing everything, held him back. Instead, he let his actions speak for him.

Repeatedly, Jungwon pecked you and leaned back with a kissy face. Then, with a soft chuckle, he spoke, “I guess I should finish adjusting the shirt.”

“Yeah, you should,” still a bit dazed from the kiss, you agreed, though part of you wished you could stay like this forever.

As he went back to work, measuring and pinning with a focused look on his face, you couldn’t help but feel the urge to touch him. You moved closer again, your fingers brushing against his as he adjusted a pin. Jungwon glanced up, catching your loving eyes on him.

He smiled, a soft and genuine smile that made you feel like the luckiest person in the world. ”Thanks for being my muse,” he said quietly.

You took in the sight of him so close, his features soft in the dim light of the studio. The curve of his nose, how his thick eyebrows arched highly, and his feline-like eyes that crinkled with his beam, all didn’t go unnoticed by you. “Jungwon…” You whispered, not even sure what you wanted to say. No words felt adequate.

“I…” The tailor began, but his tongue seemed to fail him too. Instead, he cupped your jaw with his nimble fingers, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin in a gesture so tender it made your heart ache.

There were so many things you wanted to say, try and ask why you didn’t just get together, or why you were being so hesitant, but it was obvious that none of you had the answer for it.

While you leaned into his touch, you murmured a question, “What are we doing?”

Jungwon’s thumb stilled on your cheek as he pondered over your puzzle. “I don’t know.” He admitted. “I... seriously don’t know. I’m sorry.” 

Jungwon’s palm slid from your cheek to your neck, creating a path down to your collarbone. The touch was almost imperceptible, however, your breath hitched at the sensation. He seemed to be remembering the feeling of you after being too busy with his projects. 

Your own hands moved on their own accord, one slipping to the nape of his neck, the other resting on his chest, feeling the quick beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. 

Neither of you spoke, but you could sense how the other wanted to open their mouth and address the elephant in the room.

Finally, unable to stay quiet any longer, your lips brushed against his once more in a kiss, filled with all the emotions you couldn’t put into words. Jungwon let out a soft groan, his hands tightening on your lower waist as he tugged you closer.

It was different from the previous one — not as urgent, but an attempt to communicate wordlessly. The boy backed you into sitting on his desk, knocking some of his precious utensils off to make you space and ensure your comfort. In all honesty, he couldn’t care less about them.

When you finally pulled back, you were both breathless. Jungwon’s pupils were completely blown, his gaze holding yours in a silent question.

You smiled, fingers brushing through his messy hair. “We’ll figure it out,” you assured, “one piece of clothing at a time.”

Jungwon nodded with an amused laugh at your dumb joke. “Yeah,” he agreed softly. “One piece of clothing at a time.

⠀ ⠀ SOOV © 2O24

STiCKY NOTES ⋄ i am NOT gonna lie i got too carried away with the word count (didnt even proofread this bai)

[ellsarchive]

Ken Sato HC’s (extremely random) *.• (sfw)

Writing this instead of part two of starcrossed 😭

Calls you “doll.” It started off sarcastic, like when he was teasing you or something of the sort. It soon became an unironic part of his vocabulary, now a common name between you two.

Speaking of pet names, also calls you “baby.”

PDA guy, but lowkey. Like an arm around you or a hand on your lower back, subtle claims and displays to show you off.

(Someone else said this and it was too true not to repeat) He bites. Whether that means nibbling your skin playfully or sinking his teeth into you is up to your interpretation.

Sometimes he leans down to hear you better, to kiss you, etc. and his dog tags hang in your face.

Refers to you as “my girl” in interviews and when telling people about you

Takes a long time for him to feel like he can show emotion around you. It took countless reassurances and a lot of love, but strangely enough, he finds comfort in knowing you’ve seen that side of him. You saw it and still stayed.

The type to dance with you in the living room to disgustingly sappy music (even when your laughter is much louder than the song)

Listener.

Unless he has something important, you will never catch this man in something other than sweats or his baseball uniform.

Knows he’s attractive, but doesn’t try too hard to seem so. He knows certain things he does are attractive and he does them, but doesn’t try to make them attractive, you know?

The cocky act isn’t ENTIRELY a front. Of course it’s mostly a show for the fans, but he’s a sarcastic man at heart.

No minute goes by that he doesn’t have a snarky comment

Except for when he’s with you.

He’s nicer when he’s with you.

Low spice tolerance (America did its number on him)

Likes to watch projections of his old life with you, pointing out little details and meanings behind things that couldn’t be seen. He loves teaching you about who he was before you.

So clingy when he’s tired. If you try to get out of bed it feels like you have chains holding you in your place. His determination is almost terrifying. Also much less sarcastic, his most sincere words have been spoken when he’s half asleep.

Speaking of which, the first time he told you he loved you was when you were cuddled up, falling asleep. He let it slip without realizing, his eyes shutting the moment he said it. His last memory of that night is your faint voice saying “I love you” as his dreams took over.

Will DESTROY a carton of milk in the middle of the night if he’s thirsty (he usually only uses it for cereal)

Likes to binge TV shows with you when he gets the chance. What’s a better way to spend a rainy day than to be lazy and escape from this world with the person he loves most?

Had a dog growing up

Nothing is safe from the heinous amounts of soy sauce he puts on his food. One bite would kill a Victorian child

Was actually really nervous about being in a committed relationship. Luckily, you being his saviour, helped him every step of the way. He’s changed so many ways since meeting you, one of them being the absence of the walls he had built.

Puts a hand on the back of your neck when he hugs you

Car guy (as hinted by his collection of cars in the movie)

Sometimes falls asleep on your chest, body in between your legs, and wakes up having no idea where he is.

Wishes he had more pictures of you, but always forgets to take them.

Always wins his games when you come to them. Seeing you in the stands is the highlight of the game, not the win.

MEAN side eye. Could kill a man with ts

Is 100% sure that he’ll never love another the way he loves you. He’s certain.

Thinks of you when he sees corny romance movies

Was genuinely surprised when you first told him you loved him (when he was awake this time). When he realized how real it all was, he was confused. He didn’t know someone could see all the bad parts of him and still really, really love him.

Once he got over the doubt, he was proud.

Felt pathetic when he first realized how much he loved you. The way he couldn’t get you out of his head was unfamiliar, and your effect on him was so much more than anyone else has had. It frustrated him to no end.

Loves trying new food places with you

Sometimes jumps a little when he sees you out of the corner of his eye, someone else in his house so often still new to him.

Doesn’t cry easily

Cried while watching titanic with his mom when he was little

[sheyfu]

𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐧 🤞🤞

𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝗆𝗂𝗄𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗈 𝗑 𝖿!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

— 𝗇𝗈 𝗌𝗒𝗇𝗈𝗉𝗌𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝗆𝖾𝗇 𝖼𝗋𝗒 𝗂𝗆 𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 (𝗂 𝗌𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗒𝗇𝗈𝗉𝗌𝖾𝗌); 𝖳𝖧𝖨𝖲 𝖨𝖲𝖭𝖳 𝖠𝖭𝖦𝖲𝖳 𝖡𝖳𝖶 𝖫𝖬𝖠𝖮𝖮𝖮𝖮

— 𝖼𝗐: 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 (𝗂𝗆 𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗋𝗆); 𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗍/𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍? 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝖾𝗉𝗍 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗈 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝗋𝖺𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝖤𝖱𝖬𝖬𝖬𝖬; 𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗍. 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗆𝗆𝗁𝗆

— 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾: 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗄 𝖧𝖨𝖣𝖥𝖩𝖠𝖲𝖨𝖥𝖣𝖩𝖠 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗄 𝗂𝗆 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗎𝗌 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗂𝗆 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗌𝗒!! 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗈, 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗂𝖼 𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗉 𝗈𝗇 𝗃𝗎𝗅𝗒 19𝗍𝗁 𝖫𝖬𝖠𝖮𝖠𝖮𝖮𝖠𝖮 (𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝖺𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗒 𝗀𝖺𝗇𝗀); 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝗒 @fictional-gf !! 𝖳𝖧𝖠𝖭𝖪 𝖸𝖮𝖴 𝖲𝖮 𝖬𝖴𝖢𝖧 𝖬𝖬𝖬𝖧𝖬𝖬𝖬𝖬; 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝖻𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋@?#@#@

“love please don’t break up with me.” 

“reo? my love– what–”

“i can change. i’ll change for you. just for you. just please.. please don’t break up with me..” as you stare at tear-filled purple eyes, you can’t help but wonder why the mikage reo is kneeling in front of your apartment door—thrashed flowers in his hand, hair and suit a mess with sprinkles of snow on every part of his body and flushed cheeks from the cold weather, making him look like a child who just ran ten laps around your apartment complex.

“please, my love…” he grabs your hand, shoving the flowers in your hand as he bows, head on your doormat as he begs. “you deserve someone much better. someone smarter. someone more handsome than me…”

wasn’t he just telling me to not break up with him? 

he looks up again, tears streaming down on his face, a noticeable pout on his face. “i’m so sorry…i am so so sorry i couldn’t treat you ri-”

ok, you’ve had enough of his bullshit.

“love…i don’t know what you’re onto or.. or if– if you’re on something? but please…just get inside and tell me what this is about…alright?” you bend down to his height, kissing his forehead as you pat his head. 

stepping aside, you invite him into your humble abode. he doesn’t budge though, remaining in his original position, looking like a pet waiting for its owner's orders—head slightly tilting as he looks at you with wide-eyes. 

fine. we’re doing this the hard way then.

you sigh as you lay down on your bed, comforting a crying reo who is laying on your chest, and clinging onto you like he’s afraid you’d leave him.

“i’m so sorry, love. i really am..” reo wails like a child—snot and tears messing up your shirt. you don’t mind though. in fact, you’re quite happy you’ve gotten to that point in your relationship where he’s comfortable enough to show this side of his.

oh reo…my sweet reo…

“love. look at me.” you gently cup his cheeks with your palms, wiping away his flowing tears. 

“you don’t have to be sorry that you had to cancel our date. i mean, it’s literally fuckin’ freezing outside and i doubt anything is open right now.” you continue with a small smile, “plus, we don’t always have to go out for dates. in fact, we can have one now! you know, like a home date. uhhh like…cuddling? orrr we can bake cookies! ooooo we could also watch movies if you’d like!” 

he perks up at your suggestions, tears slowly subsiding as a subtle, yet noticeable happy expression appears on his face.

“really?” he asks, eyes opening wide as he awaits your answer.

“of course! we, commoners, need to have some kind of entertainment during days like these after all.” you tease him, playing with his soft hair.

“hey! that’s not nice!” his face scrunches up into an “angry pout” as he reprimands you for saying that.

“i’m sorry! i’m sorry!” you laugh as he removes himself off you, keeping the same pout on his face as he lays down on his side facing away from you.

well at least he’s not crying anymore. 

snickering, you snuggle up to him, acting as the big spoon, kissing his nape as you drape the blanket over the two of you. 

you wish him a goodnight, smiling and rolling your eyes as you’re met with a “hmph!” from the man child beside you.

after a few moments though, you hear your boyfriend’s soft voice, “will we still watch and bake and cuddle tomorrow?” it’s almost creepy how you can hear and feel the pout in his voice. you’re almost tempted to jump on him, squish his cheeks and litter him with kisses because of how cute he is right now.

but you refrain yourself from doing so, playing the role of “mrs. petty” to give him a taste of his own medicine.

“hey..” he calls out to you a little louder this time.  

you turn away from him slightly, acting as if he’s disturbing you from your slumber.

“oi!” you feel him turn to you and drape himself on your body—his weight almost knocking the air out of your system.

wheezing, you pat the man on his back as you try to push him away. 

“okay..okay. we will!” satisfied with your answer, he returns back to his original position and holds your arm captive. you try to get your arm back from his death-crushing grip, yet he doesn’t budge, only gripping it harder.

admitting defeat, you grumble and close your eyes, slowly drifting off to dreamland as you feel a fleeting pair of lips on yours.

what a man mikage reo is. 

[longing-for-rain]

Katara and the “Mom Friend” Trope

Both in-universe and among fans, Katara has always been identified as the “mom friend.” While often used as a joke, the trope does reveal a deeper and more tragic aspect of Katara’s character: the way the war has forced her to grow up quickly and take on a parental role at a young age.

This is a frequently misunderstood part of Katara’s character, despite it being central to her arc. Since the show first aired, Katara has been the butt of many jokes and has always been one of the most hated characters by fans. From tasteless jokes about how she talks about the loss of her mother too much to accusations of being too emotional and bossy, Katara’s character has always been under attack by fans.

In past years, and still in certain parts of the internet, this behavior was blatant, but lately I’ve noticed a more subtle spin on this. As it becomes slightly less socially acceptable to say blatantly misogynistic things about female characters—particularly here on tumblr—I’ve noticed fans express the same negative sentiments about Katara, but dressed up to appear more progressive. The most common way I see this sentiment expressed is fans downplaying Katara’s role as “team mom” and trying to make it seem as if Katara is less mature and responsible than she really is.

Of course, these individuals would have you believe that their reasoning for these opinions is that they really care so much about Katara and want to “let her be a kid.” But in reality, when you ignore the way that Katara is forced into a parental role in canon, you also ignore and disregard the context for many of her character traits, leading into the accusations of her being bossy and overly emotional that I mentioned earlier. It erases, and therefore minimizes, a huge source of stress and trauma that weighs on Katara throughout the series.

The idea that Katara fans created the concept of her being a “mom friend” is ridiculous. This is mentioned so much in canon that it’s practically a running joke. Toph accuses Katara of acting like everyone’s mom in The Chase. A similar conflict arises again in The Runaway, when Sokka even admits that he thinks of Katara as a mother figure, despite him being her older brother.

Katara seems pretty hurt by this too, and it’s still never properly addressed again.

In The Headband, Katara actually pretends to be Aang’s mother.

And looking at everything we know about Katara, it’s very clear how she assumed this role. Think about what she says in the exposition of the entire show:

Katara: Ever since mom died, I've been doing all the work around camp while you've been off playing soldier! I even wash all the clothes! Have you ever smelled your dirty socks?

The moment Katara is introduced, the audience is given a critical piece of information about Katara—that she’s lost her mother and essentially assumed her role. While Sokka is more or less playing and occasionally hunting (we hardly ever see him do this in canon by the way), Katara is doing the overlooked, underappreciated labor that keeps everything moving. There is a great post here by @theotterpenguin that details this and the inherent misogyny in devaluing the kind of work Katara does, and how many fans tend to do this.

This trend continues throughout the course of the show. Katara is always the voice of reason who keeps things moving. She reigns in Sokka and Aang, who are constantly getting themselves into trouble.

There are countless examples, but to name a few:

As early as The Warriors of Kyoshi, she’s trying to get Aang to behave and not endanger himself to look cool. And having him mouth off when she gently suggests that he help with a minor chore.

In The Storm, Katara warns Sokka not to take a risky job, which he ignores and nearly gets himself killed.

In The Blue Spirit, Katara is trying the whole time to do something productive via Momo, remaining vigilant despite the sickness wearing her down.

In The Chase, being the one to politely ask Toph to help out, and honestly doing a pretty good job of keeping her cool as long as she did.

The entirety of The Desert episode. While everyone else was drugged up, hopeless, and even outright hostile, Katara kept everything moving and saved everyone’s lives.

Whenever Aang goes into the Avatar State, it’s always Katara tasked with calming him down, despite how dangerous and volatile the Avatar State is when not properly controlled.

Additionally, there are so many small details that add to this picture. Katara is always the one we see getting food, preparing food, doing chores, everything of that nature. Everyone else would be completely lost without her.

And sadly, this is something never properly addressed by the narrative nor acknowledged by fans. There is a great post here by @ecoterrorist-katara explaining the tragedy in this. Katara is constantly burdened with the responsibility of keeping everything moving and doing the invisible labor that is never appreciated but keeps everyone moving, which is the reason why she’s viewed as being in a maternal role. Because that’s what she very clearly is to her friends.

This really wasn’t meant to be a ship related post, but it is kind of the elephant in the room here. I know a lot of the motivation in downplaying Katara’s “mom friend” role stems from shipping discourse, in particular, the hatred of the idea of Katara and Zuko acting as team parents. Some people associate Momtara as a Zutara trope and as a result, relentlessly bash it as they do anything even tangentially related to Zutara. But did you ever consider why it’s a Zutara trope? Because a lot of fans recognize everything I mentioned previously, and enjoy the idea of someone helping to share that responsibility. Sokka, Aang, and Toph clearly didn’t, so that leaves…guess who.

Zuko: You should get some rest. We'll be there in a few hours. You'll need all your strength.

It’s tiring seeing this trend from people who clearly don’t care about Katara or her character. Sure, you might try to act like you’re downplaying Katara’s maternal role and how a huge part of her canon character was the war forcing her to assume that role out of “wanting her to be a kid” but you really aren’t that different from more blatantly misogynistic fans who call her immature and annoying. You don’t recognize or respect the work she’s constantly putting in to protect those around her, and then you have the audacity to get mad at fans of Katara who actually like the idea of someone taking some of that burden off of her shoulders?

Same Katara hate, different font. She is forced into this material role, and refusing to acknowledge this is disrespectful not just to Katara’s character, but all the real life women and girls forced into similar roles who see themselves in Katara.

[leth-writes]

hotd x oblivious reader

I’m thinking about a reader who’s kinda oblivious. They aren’t super aware of everything going on around them, they’re just confused as to why no one is getting along.

You’re really close with both team black and green, to the point that they’re fighting over you, but you’re not even aware of the actual conflict; you just think it’s petty interpersonal drama.

They’re over in the corner threatening each other with dragons and swords and you’re just… hanging out with Helaena, looking at butterflies and asking to pet her dragon.

the second you express interest in the dragons, there’s practically a line; you’re the most nervous with Daemon and Aemond’s dragons, for obvious reasons given their reputation, but Luke has a pretty small dragon so you grow closer to him through that. Rather than the size of the castle, Arrax is about the size of a particularly large horse, or maybe a big bear. More manageable when you know they can’t swallow you in one bite.

This drives a wedge further between Aemond and Luke, with Aemond outright glaring every time he so much as catches a glimpse at Luke. Not only did he take his eye, now he’s taking a bonding opportunity out from under her?! He’s pissed and challenges him to a duel. You still think it’s all fun and games, and you’re cheering for both of them, and they’re both trying to fucking kill each other, it’s pretty intense.

no matter who wins, you’re ecstatic, and you hug them both and kiss them both on the cheek. The blush that blooms on their faces and the almost goofy smiles that stretch across their cheeks are perhaps the only thing they’ve had in common in years.

Aemond totally uses his injury to ingratiate himself with you. It makes you feel bad for him, and while he doesn’t normally want pity, he’s fine using it to his advantage. Once Luke is out of the way, he reckons, he’ll be able to reveal his true self slowly over time.

Daemon’s also pretty likely to get into physical fights, though he sues his silver tongue to make you blush just as often. He really is quite sly, and he’s the only one to outright proposition you. He’ll get Jace to take you out for a night in the town, slowly working their way to the brothels, trying to sully your reputation just far enough that you’ll have to marry him. It worked for Daemon, after all, and he just wants you connected to him. He’s fully aware that he’s not going to be able to live without you. Having you tied to Jace is just the perfect way to keep you close.

Rhaenyra is also taking advantage of your oblivious and gullible nature. She definitely tries to take advantage of the fact that you aren’t able to catch on to her true intentions. She’s convinced you to cuddle with her by telling you she’s too cold, and that Daemon’s too busy, and you felt so bad for her you were totally willing.

She’s more straightforward, pushing Jace to try to court you. He’s fighting off any of your various suitors, and anyone who is trying to take advantage of your obliviousness to secure a connection to the family.

You’re targeted by people from all over, mainly because of your close bonds to the various members of the nobility. Everyone has to work together to keep you safe when it’s announced you’re willing to court some random lord. You think you’re in love, they need to convince you otherwise.

Daemon immediately gets to work sullying the reputation of that lord. Then, he murders them. He’s not above paying a prostitute to seduce them in a place where you catch the two of them in the act, ravaging your heart.

Aemond and Jace both try to step into that void. Aemond, who takes a slightly more subtle approach, asking you to ride on Vhagar, fails; Jace, under the advice of Rhaenyra, takes a more direct approach and is able to begin dating you.

Alicent practically loses it, seeing her child so defiled by Rhaenyra’s child. She’s trying to convince you to marry Aemond or Aegon instead. Aegon shows up naked in your room; you can’t miss that clue, after all. It doesn’t work, you’re convinced he just mistook your room for his. Your rooms look nothing alike, but Aegon’s too charmed to even mention it.

Finally, Otto steps in to prevent Alicent from snapping and attacking someone. He’s not willing to let his precious grandchild fall into the hands of one of Rhaenyra’s bastards, after all.

Viserys is informed, even on his deathbed, that you should be married to Aemond. It’s to secure the familial line, after all, and your children will surely be strong and loved, the perfect combination.

So, he announces that you will be married to Aemond, breaking your relationship to Jace. Jace is heartbroken, Rhaenyra and Daemon are ready to burn the castle to the ground.

Thus begins the fight of the century.