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pinkaditty · 21 days

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Tokyo Debunker Headcanons

so. im insane LMFAOOOOOO but no seriously. im not even gonna elaborate. im posting these strictly as an interest check bc if anyone's interested ill keep posting them.

Body Type/Various Measurements Tokyo Debunker hcs:

FROSTHEIM ONLY (interest check!)

a/n: hihi as most of my consistent readers know, i am a biomed major and work in a med field. i love human anatomy. i couldn’t resist the urge to do this once i noticed that Lucas has a wider and taller frame than Kaito. it’s soso interesting i was just like “oh wait, lucas looks… larger than kaito?” and then i confirmed he was, his shoulders were broader and his waistline, albeit proportional, was wider. it’s so interesting. i had to. sorry!

cw: ??? hcs i guess! not trying 2 be insensitive but if u have an ed and seeing weights triggers u or something don't look at this post. i think that's it? oh also ts is not proofread i fear! i spat this out on paper and decided it was good 2 go!

MINORS DNI THESE HCS INCLUDE NSFW THINGS!! THANK YOU!!

PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE READING HCS:

note that the measurements may be misleading: for example, a waistline that is several inches smaller than bust or hip does not imply an hourglass shape unless specified. smaller waistline is proportionate to larger bust and hip, provides “normal” rather than “hourglass”. waistline larger or in similar value to bust or hip also does not imply overweight unless specified. subject may have different body type (i.e. pear or triangular), which consists of a larger waistline while still appearing lean (used a body visualizer, so feel free to input the values into one to better see my vision!). i did use a bmi calculator for this, but it is important to note that while some may appear obese or overweight based on weight, these boys have been trained for combat and usually consist of high muscle composition, which weighs more in less quantities than fat. either that, or they’re just unusually tall with a higher body mass and are inevitably going to weigh more. as for penis length: as much as we all appreciate monster cocks, i wanted to make this as realistic as possible. in japan, the penis length is generally equivalent to 7.9% of the body height. most, if not all lengths here, are based off of the values calculated. for our sakes, though, i rounded up a little teehee!!!! and i will admit, some of them i increased a little bit to fit my specific interpretation of the characters (specifically, the tall ones; for example, Tohma landed at around 6in like Jin, but i gave him 7in to account for some diversity in endowment + i jus feel like he'd be longer LOL). girth and other proportions are based purely in my own speculation.

Jin Kamurai: Height is abt 6’2, so taller than average, but not super tall. Weight is abt 187 lbs or 84.8218 kg (not much muscle definition, but strong core and muscular arms needed to wield heavy sword), 40in underbust circumference, 30in waist, 42in hip. Triangular body type.

Excess notes: Upturned eyes, sharp nose, strongly defined cupid’s bow lips. Broad, unusually flexible shoulders. Hands are long and slender, wrists unusually small. Flatter than a wooden board in the back. Thighs and calves not very well-trained, but strong enough to give him a good base for combat. Penis length 6in, not particularly girthy or lengthy. Happy trail is present but almost invisible, silver hair against white skin relatively hard to spot. Keeps it hairy but does trim occasionally.

Tohma Ishibashi: Height is around 6’1.5, taller than average. Weight is around 185 lbs or 83.9146 kg (enough muscle definition to be skilled in combat and wield axe, that and generally large height explain larger weight), 39in underbust, 29in waist, 42in hip. Rectangular body type.

Excess notes: Straight almond eyes, long straight nose, regular cupid’s bow lips. Long neck, very pronounced collarbones. Palms especially wide, fingers long and slender. Does not have much of an ass to work with I fear. Similar to Jin in that calves and thighs aren’t well-trained, but good enough to provide a strong base for axe-swinging. Penis length 7in, more in length than girth. Slight curve to the right. Well trimmed, no happy trail.

Lucas Errant: Height is around 6’, taller than average, but not super tall. Weight is around 213 lbs or 96.6152 kg (large muscle definition despite being shorter, which is why he weighs more), 42in underbust, 30in waist, 46in hip. Hourglass body type.

Excess notes: I hc him to be mixed Jamaican/British + suffers from Acrofacial vitiligo (spots appear typically on face around openings, but in his case it appears on the back of his head which causes the lighter hair color there; has light spots on inner eye, under nose, and on hands, feet, and genital area). Wide, upturned eyes, small pronounced button nose, thicker lips with slight cupid’s bow. Broad shoulders. Hands thicker but wider, very heavy-handed. Has largest ass in Frostheim. Thighs and calves very well-trained, less likely to lose balance than Jin or Tohma during combat. Penis length 6.5in (used a different avg, as he’s not japanese but jamaican), thicker than usual, some varicose vein, slight left curvature. Likes to upkeep happy trail. Doesn’t trim often.

Kaito Fuji: Height is around 5’10, closer to average height. Weight is around 134 lbs or 60.7814 kg (not much muscle definition, gets minimal exercise, has defined core for archery’s sake), 34 in underbust, 28in waist, 36in hip. Rectangular body type.

Excess notes: Wide upturned cat-like eyes, sharp upturned nose, thin upper lip, bottom lip typical size. Long neck, pronounced bone structure (slightly visible spine). Hands are small and slender. Comparable to Jin in that he doesn’t have much of an ass, but isn’t quite as flat as Jin. Has more core strength than thigh or calf strength, but can establish an okay base for archery. Penis length is 5.5in, somewhat thick. Light happy trail and doesn’t grow much pubic hair.

i want u all 2 be honest with me... am i insane 4 doing this LMFAOAOAOAOAOOO

need 2 find a new roommate bc this one keeps egging me on like "ok u ate with these descriptions" like yes thank u hype man!!!! im gonna get full of myself if u keep saying this shit

anyways. i hope you all enjoyed! im honestly not expecting this 2 do numbers but if anyone wants me 2 continue then i will!! im also working on requests in the background so things may take longer to pump out, but i will do them! until next time, my loves!

#tokyo debunker smut #tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker x reader #tkdb smut #tkdb #tdb #tokyo debunker jin #tokyo debunker tohma #tokyo debunker luca #tokyo debunker kaito #jin kamurai #tohma ishibashi #lucas errant #kaito fuji

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of-stars-and-chaos · 1 year

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Lamb

Pairing: KIng Loki (Old Loki) x fem!reader

Summary: Life in your village is boring and predictable for the most part, until one day when you stumble across a stranger near the lake. Horny shenanigans ensue.

Warnings/Tags: NSFW, smut, dub-con, oral sex (female and male receiving), vaginal sex, creampie, biting, rough sex, overstimulation, teasing, horn kink?, voice kink, implied large age gap, reader is implied to be over 18 tho, King Loki is creepy and has some nasty vibes just beware unless you're into that, but he's also kinda funny, King Loki also has a hair reveal in this

A/N: This really is just self indulgent thirsting over crusty old Loki from the AoA comics, idk what else to say... please leave a like, reblog and comment if you also love morally dubious old men in viking gimp suits. I hope I'm not the only one who simps over this old hag. (this is the first fic I've shared over from my AO3 yay!)

“Who are you?” You asked. Quite frightened by the man before you; he appeared very tall and thin, yet lean and well muscled, and he wore strange green leathery clothes and a golden helmet with large curved horns.

He was kneeled down near the bank of the river, and at your arrival and voice, his face turned, his eyes darting up to you; they were a striking green, rimmed with dark makeup. And he was old in the face, far older than his body appeared to imply. He sized you up quickly, from your loose long hair to the slightly tattered frills of your dress. His thin lips curled a little.

“No one of consequence, not to you, my dear.” He said. His voice was refined, like someone of nobility, it was deep and gravelly from age. He gave one more sweeping glance of the river before sighing and standing up.

You stepped backwards.

The man turned to you, tilting his head. “Are you going to run away? Call upon your village men to come and deal with me?”

You swallowed. “I… No.” You were not sure why, there was just something about him that made you curious… he did not seem dangerous, just very strange. Something drew you to him, and you wanted to find out what and why.

You could see his clothing better now that he stood. The dark green fabric was tight to his body, outlining his muscles and collarbones. He had a sash around his waist, as well as decorative golden hoops hanging from his narrow hips. Around his shoulders was a thick furred pelt that hung to his mid back and made his frame appear broader than it was.

“But I’m an outsider. A dangerous spying stranger.” He said theatrically, wiggling his long, bony fingers for effect.

You frowned, trying to cover up your smile. “No. I won’t say anything.”

A grin stretched on his gaunt face. “Oh, you are a sweet little lamb, aren’t you?” His gaze drifted to your basket. “What are you doing out this far? It’s dangerous to wander past the borders of the village, you know. You never know what kind of monsters are about.”

“I’m foraging. Who are you?”

He smiled wider. He took a careful step towards you, making you tense a little.

“Would it be a little too alarming to tell you I’m a god?”

“A little.”

“Well, I can’t avoid that unfortunately. You can call me Loki.”

“Loki.” You echoed. “Why do you dress like this, wear those?” You gestured to his helmet.

Loki scoffed as he got within arms reach of you. He was very tall. You barely made it up to the height of his shoulders. “What a rude thing to say. I expected better from polite little village girls.”

“I have never seen anyone like you before.” You said defensively. You held your basket a little closer in front of yourself. “And I am a woman, not a girl.”

“Oh, well pardon me.” Loki said, mocking you. “Tell me,” He tilted his head at you again, the gesture made his great horns move through the air in a way that had you staring more at them than his actual face. “Why haven’t you run? You can’t be that desperate for male attention, now, lambkin.”

You flushed and averted your eyes from the rude old man- god- whatever he was.

“Oh.” He chuckled darkly. “I was joking, you know. And I thought you were the innocent type, but morally dubious old men do it for you, hm?”

“Please.” You didn’t want him to taunt you. “Leave me alone.”

“Oh, but you don’t really want me to do that. Do you?”

You took a deep breath, looking around. You paced a bit in the long grass, walking as if to go back to your village, then circling back to him. You hated to admit that he was attractive- in more ways than just physical appearance. His attitude was so full of swagger and confidence, his garb and means of being here were mysterious and so unusual… and you, unfortunately, were never very strong when it came to the temptation of the unknown. Your curiosity had gotten you into trouble in the past, but that had never seemed to stop you. Thinking with your pussy hadn’t gotten you into bad trouble yet, but there was a first time for everything.

You pouted a little as you looked him up and down again. Loki could only watch you with plain amusement in his deeply hooded, dark rimmed eyes; eyes so sharp and cunning they almost scared you.

“I like your horns.” You finally said.

“Oh, I bet you do. All the chicks dig the horns.” He smirked and decided to walk around you. “I’m getting tired of being here. Would you like to follow me to someplace more interesting?”

You gulped, unsure of what he meant, and what to do.

“Come now, darling lamb, I wouldn’t dream of hurting such a pretty thing.” He grinned as he walked past you, his strides long and his pace fast and swift. It was obvious he had a destination in mind.

Your curiosity- of course it was purely your curiosity and not the eagerness in your lower gut and the fluttering in your chest- got the better of you.

“You remind me of The Horned God.” You said as you meekly followed behind him, trying your hardest to keep up with his long legs.

He peered at you from over his shoulder. “Now, where did you hear of that?”

“I shouldn’t say.” You realised, biting your lip.

“Dear, dear.” He tutted. “Hearing things you shouldn’t, hey? You seem to want to get yourself in all sorts of trouble. Following me definitely counts as trouble,” Loki turned suddenly, making you come to a halted stop before you collided with his chest. He looked down at you with unabashed hunger and playfulness. “It’s been a long time since a mortal found the courage to approach me, and under such base, primal circumstances at that. It’s really adorable.”

He extended his long fingered hand to your face, stroking down your cheek to rest under your chin, tilting it up to him as he examined your features. “You must be truly desperate,” He leaned in until you could smell his leathery scent. “Needy, pathetic little thing.”

You blushed hotly, breathing with your mouth parted. Caught like a stunned animal. “Y-you won’t hurt me? Will you?”

He laughed at you, patting your cheek rather harshly. “Sweet lambkin, don’t worry your pretty little head.”

Loki turned and continued as quickly as he had stopped, leading you to what appeared to be a cave, but upon entering through the leafy doorway you realised it was a huge tree. The vast space underneath the canopy of thick branches was akin to the inside of a large tent.

You could see that he had been staying here temporarily; there was a smouldering fire as well as a few bags of supplies lying around.

Loki leaned against the trunk of the tree in the centre, arms crossed as he continued to look you over. “There are few who can accept their carnal desires. And fewer that can openly express them around strangers.”

“I’m not-...” You started, then stubbornly looked at the ground.

“Oohoh, yes you are. You are so very shy about it, but don’t play coy with me, girl, I’ve been around long enough to know how the song and dance goes.” He raised a humoured brow. “But it’s certainly been a while. I’m glad I haven’t lost my touch in the art of seducing mortals, especially the ones who know they shouldn’t want me.” He gestured with his long, gloved fingers for you to come closer.

You felt your feet move towards him despite your common sense telling you to flee. Things in the air had changed, and you finally felt some true fear of him. His eyes were no longer cunning- they were predatory.

You ended up in front of him, looking up at his old, handsome, sharp face.

“I take it you’re new to this.” Loki observed. “You seem eager, yet unpractised. Unsure.”

You nodded quietly, in awe and fear of him at the same time.

His lip curled. He stepped forward, starting to prowl around you as he spoke. “So small and timid… and so pretty… I bet many of the village men have their sights set on you? Can’t wait to turn you into their little wife, fill you with their babies and start a little family.”

You blushed hotter if that was possible, trying to look away from him as he circled around to your left, but he pulled your face back to look at you. He grinned, harshly grabbing your jaw, making his fingers dig into the flesh of your cheeks.

“Too bad for them, really. I’m going to ruin you first. Now get on your knees.”

He released his grip and you sank to your knees, placing your hands on his muscled thighs. You waited patiently.

“So obedient and submissive.” Loki cooed in praise as he began to remove the sash and belts from his waist, once out of the way he unlaced the reasonably tented crotch of his suit. “They’re there for a reason, by the way.” He offered, his dark rimmed eyes dropping to the golden metal hoops that hung at each of his hips.

You gulped again, feeling more naïve for not noticing his perverse accessories. You took a hold of the cold metal with trembling hands, watching silently as he pulled out his impressive cock. He tilted his head as he lazily stroked his length, watching you eye this new part of him with trepidation. “Don’t worry darling, it’s not that complicated. You just suck it and avoid biting.”

And without much more warning or instruction he pushed it past your open lips, making you take him in your mouth. You pulled and gripped onto the golden hoops as you tried to suck and lick, pulling back a little when he got close to the back of your throat- which was quickly due to the long length of him.

He took a fistful of your hair in his hand once you found a steady rhythm, you were drooling as you took his cock, wanting to please him, hollowing your cheeks around him, licking the underside of the shaft and sucking like you were dying of hunger. All the while the heat at the centre of your thighs grew, spiking with desire at all the sudden stimulation.

“What a good girl you are,” Loki said, an extra growl to his voice. “It’s like you’ve done this before.”

You frowned and pulled yourself off his cock. “I’ve been told how it is done, I just haven’-.”

“Now, now, no need to be snappish.” He sneered before pushing your head forward, back onto him. He let out a breathy grunt at the pleasurable feeling of your attentive mouth. “Apparently you’re more of a would-be-whore than I assumed.” He cracked a grin again as he looked down at you. “I just needed to break you in, hmm?”

He continued to smile nastily down at you, as you frowned and glared at his words, taking his cock as best as you could. Soon your mouth was getting sore, wetness from your saliva beginning to drip down your thighs, mixing with an entirely different wetness. You whined around his hot hard length, wanting it somewhere other than your mouth.

As soon as you did so he gripped your hair tighter and pulled you off his cock, a string of saliva connecting it before breaking and dripping down, you whined again at the sight.

“What a horny little mess you are…” He purred. “Looks like you need some attention now, lamb?”

You could only nod, humming in acknowledgment as you started to unlace your dress. Before you could even get a good start on doing so however, he lowered himself to his knees and more or less tackled you to the ground, lowering your shoulders to the grass and dipping down to hurriedly lift up the layers of your dress and bury his head between your legs, pushing your thighs apart with his long hands. He didn’t even quip a smartass comment about your lack of undergarments, instead going in to broadly and unashamedly lick and suck at your slit and clit, alternating between the two rapidly and appearing to indulge in the act in a way that made you moan out in absolute shock and pleasure, gripping the horns on his helmet and angling your head out of their way.

The way he used his mouth was unlike anything you had ever imagined, and it wasn’t very long at all until you were reeling, your moans taking on a higher, alarmed pitch and wobbling in defeat as you came. Arching and twitching violently, Loki held your thighs firmly apart despite your muscles wanting to clench and close as you shuddered.

The first thing you could understand after that crashing orgasm was the pull of his horns as he lifted his head from between your legs, making you release them from your shaky, vice-like grip.

Loki chuckled breathily, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he rose to look you in the face, which you were frankly a little too embarrassed to do. He sat back on his knees with all the swagger of someone who still had a raging hard-on, and looked you over appreciatively while taking off his helmet- which you almost objected to, considering it was honestly a turn-on, and also because you were worried about what he’d look like under it. But to your pleasant surprise he removed the helmet and head-cap to reveal locks of dark ebony hair, long and gorgeous despite the subtle streaks of grey, and the slightly greasy look. The hair framed his gaunt, sharp face in a way that made you possibly more attracted to him than before. His body was already so tall and tight and muscled, this was almost too much. The fact that this old man could have so many desirable features to him made your core clench and throb with fresh want.

You desperately fumbled with your dress again, ripping and shedding it from your body as you whined at him with glazed over eyes.

“Do you want something, lambkin?”

“I want you inside me, please, please, please-” You whimpered. Your need currently overshadowing your embarrassment at how pathetic you sounded.

He chuckled deeply, grabbing your thighs and pulling them up around his waist as he lowered himself to you, his hair soon curtaining around your faces. He nudged your slick entrance with the tip of his cock for longer than you thought was necessary, teasing you by sliding in a little only to pull back out and slide over your slit.

You whined in a high pitch, needy tone, hoping he would give in and take pity on you already. He was teasing you too much and he knew it. You barely knew what was even happening anymore, it was all so overwhelming. “Don’t you think it’s wrong?” He purred. “An old, nasty thing like me, fucking such a young pretty thing like you?”

“I don’t c-care.” You whimpered in desperation.

Loki exhaled a short laugh before he pushed inside and let your tight body adjust to his size. You gasped and whined in hurt and want, your body not entirely sure how it wanted to react to the intrusion.

He let out a hum of pleasure at the feeling of your tightness wrapped around him, before cooing at you smugly. “Poor little thing, I bet it hurts? Doesn’t it?” He emphasised his words by pushing further in, at your limits.

You let out a quiet, strained yelp. “Y-yes.”

He looked at you with hazy eyes, starting to slowly rock his hips. The stretch was indeed painful, but the feeling of his cock stroking the tender, sensitive flesh of your insides and reaching further than you believed anything could go; it was euphoric. And you found that you could hardly focus on anything other than the sensation. Loki started to pick up the pace of his thrusts just before he adjusted his grip on your legs, bending and pushing them down until your knees were at your shoulders. He dipped his face down so he could drag his tongue up the length of your neck, only to drag his teeth back down, biting playfully at the join of your neck and shoulder. As he did this his hips slowed, his thrusts deeper, straining into places that made you yelp and cry out. You could practically feel him in your stomach.

Loki’s voice was like gravel as he chuckled at your reactions, pushing in again and again at the same spot, watching you and feeling you. “How does it feel to have your guts rearranged by my cock?” His voice rasped at your ear. “I bet it burns, doesn’t it? It kindles a fire in you, you’re not going to last much longer, lamb…” His dexterous fingers slipped from one of your legs, down to your clit, teasing it with soft touches.

You whined desperately and squirmed underneath him, your chest rising and falling rapidly with your breathing. “Yes… please!…”

He grinned before removing himself from you completely, whipping his hair out of his face as he stood. “Get up, lamb.”

“No!- Why?” You whined in confusion, aching for a release that had been ruined. Your body felt heavy and sore due to his rough handling.

“If you want my cock back in you, you’ll get up and do as I say.”

At that you stumbled awkwardly to your feet. You realised that you were completely naked and he was still wearing more or less everything you’d found him in, apart from the helmet and belt sash. You frowned at him in annoyance.

“Good girl.” He purred. Stepping around you again like a stalking predator, then without warning, picked you up by the thighs, making you straddle his hips. You held onto the furs at his shoulders for dear life, feeling his muscled body flush against your own and his erection against your ass.

He nuzzled into your neck as he held you, his mouth licking and biting, enveloping you with his hair once again. The combined sensations were utterly intoxicating, and you fell at his mercy again willingly. He slowly walked to the tree, pressing your back up to the wide, tall trunk.

You wanted to kiss his mouth, but at the moment that thought manifested in your mind he moved one hand from your thigh to pull at your hair, yanking your head to one side and giving him full access to your neck. In response to the lack of support you linked your legs around him securely, digging your heels into his lower back.

You tried to angle your head back towards him, looking pointedly from his eyes to his mouth, breath panting out of your lips.

Loki crooned with heavily lidded eyes. “Such a desperate mess of a thing for me, aren’t you, darling?” He laughs deeply at you again, trailing his little love bites along your jaw, muttering into your skin. “But you haven’t earned heartfelt kissing just yet.” He moved to bite your neck again and add to the blooming marks as he devoured you with his needy, messy, strong, base lust.

His hand left your hair to reposition himself at your wet, slippery slit. Sheathing his hard cock back inside and causing you to gasp and moan. He felt so big inside you, and the change in position had him rubbing up against places that made you keen and roll your own hips to meet his thrusts. You felt close again, on the edge as your clit was stimulated by your bodies every time your hips met, adding the much needed friction. If you were honest with yourself, you believed that he could make you cum by his growly, deep voice and cock alone if it ever came to that, it felt so incredibly good that you almost didn’t want it to stop. The friction mixed with the new demanding, rough, claiming bites sent you into your second orgasm. Shuddering and clenching around his length as he had to slow a little at your tightness, a groan sounded low in his throat at the feeling, making you whine and clutch at his shoulders tightly as you rode through your climax.

Loki didn’t stop however, continuing his fast, desperate pace as soon as your muscles relaxed enough to allow it. It made you truly wonder how long he could last. His breathing was ragged, his eyes filled with a manic gleam as he looked down his sharp nose to you.

You were continuously whimpering due to your sensitivity as he kept going, sometimes pushing in deep and holding there before restarting the fast more shallow pace.

“Do you like how I feel inside of you? Do you think a simple man could make you feel the same way?” He leaned down to mouth and kiss at the top of your breast, trailing up from it back to your neck.

“I… No!” You managed out. Desperate for him to just finish, willing to say anything in order to please him.

“Of course not.” He snarled, his mouth just under your ear. “I am a god. And you belong to me. Now why don’t you be a good little lamb and cum again for me?” He growled against your ear, his free hand grasped and squeezed your breast, the pace of his thrusts becoming erratic.

You keened, at first unsure but then swelling with the building tension of another release as he intentionally rammed his cock into your sweet spots. You arched against him, your body pulsing and wracked with spasms as you cried his name in repeated praise.

That did it for him. You heard a deep groan of abandon just as you felt his teeth sink into the juncture of your neck and shoulder. He thrust his big cock deep inside of your tight constricting pussy as he came, spilling his warm liquid into your depths. You felt every spurt and each pulsation as you were intimately connected.

Part of you wanted to scream at him, and the other part was too sated and tingling with pleasure to care.

#King Loki x reader #Old Loki x reader #x reader smut #female reader #loki x female reader #loki x reader #King Loki #smut fic

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watatsumiis · 2 years

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Some Fatui Harbingers height and body type headcanons because I have so much brainrot for them right now it's not even funny oof

General warnings for talk of different body types and weights (all in a very neutral way - except for a brief mention of body insecurity under Scara's entry)

Ok so I'm going to put this list in order from tallest to shortest because that's the way that makes the brain happy - i dont have exact height ideas, but the first three are definitely unnaturally tall in my brain

Technically the tallest would be the big robot that carries Sandrone around but i haven't latched onto them. yet.

Capitano is built like a brick shithouse, he's huge, he's tall and broad and super muscly, but not in a bodybuilder way, think more like Maui from Moana (i do actually headcanon him as being Maori (or at least the teyvat equivalent idk) but that's an infodump for another post. He's the tallest and most physically intimidating, he's got a slope to his shoulders and his quiet demeanour gives him this very scary kind of vibe.

Pierro is close behind, he's quite tall, he'd be pretty close to Capitano's height but he has a bit of a slouch/stoop (perhaps minor scoliosis? i dunno) that makes him shorter, but his attitude and demeanour make him seem taller, so it's not that hard to mistake him for the tallest of the Harbingers. He's not as broad as Cap by a long shot, but he makes sure to layer his clothing to make him seem more physically intimidating - he puts a lot of effort into little visual things like that so he gives off the most commanding aura he possibly can.

Dottore (omega form) is next, he's freakishly lanky, with long, spidery limbs. I'm not sure why, but I keep drawing parallels between him and the ibis bird (which i think is a fun thing to play with, the sacred ibis vs bin chicken type deal), he moves in a very ... twitchy, erratic kind of way. He's very skinny and the long coats he wears definitely lend to that appearance (which he probably does on purpose, he likes being seen as something uncanny, something not quite human, just to throw others off and give him an edge in the interaction).

Childe is within the realms of like, normal human heights, not uncanny. He's lean, but not skinny - he's got a lot of strength that he hides with his clothes (not to make others underestimate him, he doesn't use those kinds of underhanded tactics), but he doesn't go out of his way to hide off the muscle that he's worked so hard to accrue.

Pantalone is slightly shorter than Childe (much to his chagrin), but I can definitely see him wearing high boots just to give him that extra bit of height over Childe because he's petty like that and enjoys lording it over him (the day that Childe figures out how to walk in platform heels it is OVER for him). He's very... elegantly shaped, I think is the word that's floating in my brain, he's got some definite curvature and shape to him that he likes to flaunt a bit with his clothing. He's got some softer bits to him that just show how he likes to enjoy the finer things in life. He's mastered the act of accessorising himself in different ways to suit the situation, he's subtly manipulative like that.

Arlecchino is tall and kind of stocky and definitely has a decent amount of muscle - I can see her having long legs with hip dips (hip dips my BELOVED btw) - she likes giving off a kind of butch vibe (i could actually see her wearing binders on occasion, she's very fluid in the way she presents)

Signora is a little above average height, I can't decide whether she's small and petite or on the broader side, but she's definitely got some curves to her!!

Damslette is sitting a little below average height, I can see her being stocky and a little on the chubbier side, but she's still like... physically small, if that makes sense!

Scaramouche is smack between Damslette and Sandrone - he's small, and definitely gets a lot of flak for it (which he hates). He's proportioned like a younger child, his limbs look a bit too long for his body, and he can sometimes be quite clumsy as a result. He's kind of lean, but definitely has some tubby bits (probably around the hips/thighs/cheeks/tummy/upper arms) that he can be a little insecure about sometimes.

Sandrone is decently below average, she's quite short and very very petite, perhaps even having some kind of chronic illness/pain that makes it difficult for her to walk a lot/do much heavy lifting, hence why she has her puppets do it for her. She's very very tiny and definitely on the skinnier side.

Pulcinella is itty bitty. He's tiny. He's a shrunken old man. If ANYONE in the harbingers complains about their height they get the spiel of "hey at least you aren't as short as Pulcinella!" (unless it's capitano who literally hits his head on doorways sometimes). He looks kind of small and frail, because he is, but he can still kick ass in a fight if it comes down to it! he has no issues with his height

Please don't steal/copy/repost my work!

Likes and reblogs are always super appreciated :D

If you'd like to rant with/at me about any headcanons/ideas you might have I'd love to hear, so feel free to send an ask/dm my way!

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pinkfadespirit · 2 years

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Here’s my Secret Sanders gift for @factorykat. I did a painting and a little fic to go with it. It’s here on AO3, but I’ll share the fic here too since it’s only short. The rest of it is below the cut.

The space beside Anders in the bed was cooling without Wyatt there to fill it. As tempting as it had seemed earlier to snuggle up to his lover and allow himself to sleep in for a while, that plan had lost some of its appeal since Wyatt got up to see to Finn, who had been sniffing outside the bedroom door, stopping only to let out the occasional whine. "I need to be up anyway," he'd muttered, then pressed a kiss to Anders' forehead and slipped out of bed. Anders had made a faint noise of protest, to which Wyatt only chuckled. "Be back soon, love."

Not in the way Anders wanted him, though. He'd mentioned last night that he had an errand that he needed to run early this morning and he was likely up for the day now. Anders supposed he needed to do the same. There was the clinic to open, and the manifesto to work on...

Anders sighed and sat up, letting the bed covers fall to his lap and shivering at the cool air that met his bare skin. He looked around for something to put on and counter the urge to slip back under the covers, and his eyes fell upon Wyatt's shirt, on the floor where one of them had tossed it the night before. He quickly snatched it up and pulled it over his shivering torso. The fabric fell loose around his shoulders. Though Anders was a tall man, Wyatt was taller still, and much broader, and Anders' slim form was swamped by the garment. He smiled, as he hugged the fabric to him, feeling warm and comfortable. As he stepped out of the bed, it fell around his hips, doing a decent job of hiding the fact that he wasn't wearing anything else underneath it. He stepped over to the desk, trying to remember where he'd left off in his writing the night before. With a flick of his wrist, he lit a nearby candle, rather than bothering to draw the curtains. He let his attention be taken up by reading over the sheets of parchment and almost didn't notice when the door to the bedroom opened again.

"Oh, you are cruel to me sometimes, Anders," came Wyatt's voice from behind him.

"Hmm?" said Anders distractedly.

"Sitting there half dressed in my clothes, knowing I have to go out. You're trying to tempt me to stay, aren't you?"

Anders smirked without looking up from the parchment he'd been reading. "I am doing no such thing."

"Well it's working, whether you're trying to or not."

He felt it as Wyatt came up behind him, now partially dressed in his armour. The leather was rough even through the fabric of the borrowed shirt but he had thankfully not got around to putting on any of the spiky metal parts that usually made up the outfit just yet. A pair of thick arms wrapped around Anders' shoulders and he smiled as he leaned back into the touch.

"I'm not sure if I'm really sorry about that," he laughed.

"Such an unrepentant tease," Wyatt murmured against his ear, making Anders shiver in a way that had nothing to do with the cold this time. Anders laughed again, leaning further into the touch. He sighed happily as Wyatt's lips brushed his temple. It really was a shame he had to go. But best to make the most of it while he still had his love all to himself. He turned his head to bring their lips together in a tender kiss.

"I love seeing you like this," he said, the teasing note gone from his voice, replaced with something gentle and earnest.

"You like seeing me wear your clothes that much?"

"There's that. But also... just seeing you comfortable and happy. At home here with me." Wyatt's eyes shone with so much love and warmth that all Anders could do was kiss him again, harder than the first time, so that they were both breathing a little harder as they broke apart. Anders had begun to wonder if his errand was really that important. Wyatt wasn't the only one tempted by the thought of staying here like this.

"I suppose I'll just have to keep this image in mind to look forward to later," Wyatt sighed a moment later.

"Do that. I'll make it worth the wait, I promise," Anders grinned and the look Wyatt gave him then suggested he liked the sound of that.

"I'll see you tonight, love."

With one last soft kiss, Anders let him go.

#handers #m!handers #anders x hawke #anders #wyatt hawke #dragon age 2 #secret sanders #dragon age fanfic #pink fade art #dragon age fanart

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dadumtss · 2 years

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Slenderman Headcanons: Slenderbeing Height and Body Types

General Headcanons

Slenderbeings have the ability to change their height as a whole or the size of their limbs individually.

However, there’s an upper and lower limit.

The upper limit is dictated by age and genetics. Similarly to humans they grow as they age until they reach Maturity at which point their height is basically locked in. In moments of rage they can add a few feet to their height but it is decidedly uncomfortable at best and painful at worst. Most Slenderbeings don’t go around day to day at their full height as it can be several dozen feet high and cumbersome to move around in.

Their lower limit is determined by age and training. While younger slenderbeings are smaller due to their age they usually can’t reduce their height at will. This takes training and practice as shrinking down is initially uncomfortable and at smaller heights even painful. The more a slenderbeing stays at a smaller height the easier it becomes for them to stay at that height.

Slenderman

As far as slenderbeings go he has the ideal body type. If slenderbeings were more into art, he would be the Vitruvian Man. If slenderbeings wrote textbooks he would be the diagram of the male body.

Slender changes his height to fit the situation. He can get down to 6′5 before it starts to get uncomfortable but he’s rarely seen any shorter than 7′.

His shoulders are the widest part of his body which tapers to a slimmer waist. He has muscle definition but he appears more lean than built.

Offenderman

A brick shithouse of a slenderbeing. He’s to Slenderbeings what bodybuilders are to us. However, because slenderbeings are a naturally, well, slender race, he doesn’t get to the extremes of human bodybuilders.

Less of a defined waist than his other brothers, literally the shape of a brick.

His height usually bounces between 6′5 and 6′8 which is the smallest he can get. He caters his height more for seduction and action and getting too tall can put off potential partners.

Trenderman

Has the narrowest shoulders of all his brothers, giving him more of an hourglass shape than most male slenderbeings in general.

Very little muscle definition though he is pretty lean.

As far as height goes he sticks pretty closely to 6′4 which is really, really small for a slenderbeing. He can get taller easily but he finds staying as small as he can makes finding clothes easier and fits his body type best.

Splendorman

Broadest shoulders of all the brothers, though it looks odd on him since he is also the skinniest.

He doesn’t eat well because of his love of humans and general pacifism and empathy which is shown in how boney he is. If he wasn’t wearing clothes you would be able to see all his ribs and his spine.

Splendor has the most difficulties reducing his height so he never gets shorter than 7′ but often stands taller than that. He’s working on it though! It’s often difficult moving around buildings because he’s so tall.

Father / Cabadath

Shorter than all his sons at their maximum heights since they got their height from their mother. However, at his ‘usual’ height he’s about 6′9″.

He looks most like Slender in proportions though his shoulders aren’t as broad nor his waist as thin.

Willow

Willow as a female Slenderbeing has narrower shoulders and broader hips. She has a bigger bust than most female slenderbeings, giving her more of a pronounced hourglass shape than most other female slenderbeings though nothing human beings would find particularly notable.

Her usual height is 6′2″ which is tiny for a slenderbeing. It look her a lot to get comfortable at that height but she finds it much easier to navigate around the city.

#slenderverse #slenderman #slenderbeing #headcanon #creepypasta #enderbeing #trenderman #offenderman #splendorman #this is just the adults #junior looks like a child with no face #creepypasta headcanon #slenderman headcanons

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multifandomhellhole · 1 year

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Eyeless jack headcannons

Since everyone in the creepypasta fandom has their own headcannons on ej and his anatomy/abilities I decided to hop on the train and do my own finally. Seeing that I'm a creepypasta veteran who never did headcannons before...it's alot and very long...good luck ej soldiers.

decided to start from his physical attributes and slowly work down from there but slowly lost the structure I had so. Yeah.

He is a tall guy Just shy of 6'2, standing straight up that is, he typically is hunched over juuuust a bit for convince that only shaves off an inch or so.

Hes almost pure muscle but isn't at all jacked and swollen but rather lanky and lean, with a broader chest and shoulders. Designed for speed rather than brute strength. He has those hip bones and collar bones that potrude under skin that make him almost sickly looking…probably from malnorishment as he eats on the basis like a Wild animal.

He has thick, course, dark brown hair that is messy. And somewhat curly. Prior to being in your care/ treated it has not been washed and is muddy, tangled and feels more like corse fur than anything. He does wash it but that's when he showers and that only happens when he's killed a victim at a house that has a shower.

He is in fact missing both eyes and does have empty black sockets (since old dry blood is black) of where they should be. At one point when the injury was fresh they were Infected but he knew how to sterilize them. In public he usually uses an extremely tinted pair of glasses that cover them. Also with covid times a face mask helps cover his unusual mouth as well without being questionable. He does have Eyelids too fyi.

His mouth is definitely one of his most unsettling traits. His teeth are nothing but sharp and needle like, the worst part isn't that he has these types of teeth but how wide his mouth can get in to bite with them. His mouth looks normal size at first and when attempting to speak, make facial expressions, or mouthing words it appears like an average mouth. But when he has the intent of killing or frightening something his lips can stretch back and widen to reveal his teeth and his jaw can expand way past human limits. The reason for that is the cult sawed his bottom jaw into two, connected by a tendon and put it back together like that causing his mouth to be very snake like in the way it functions. Like a snake, his bottom jaw halves can move independently and stretch apart to a certain extent allowing him to eat faster, more, and do more damage.

His skin is a gray with a bluish hue due to his argyria( a skin disease caused by the exposure or ingestion of silver. Which I headcannon to have been caused by the cult.) This disease also causes neurological damage so ej does suffer from that effect as well which is why he can't remember many parts of his life before coming a monster and the parts that he can remember are quick flashes that set off at random times, if ever(he trauma of being tortured for months also contributed to his amnesia, those two combined have erased almost all his past life). Now this doesn't mean ej doesn't know that he once had a normal life. He's a smart creature and can deduct based off of the flashes of his memory that do occasionally come through, the basic actions of human kind that he knows instinctively ie human behaviour/concepts that he has ingrained in his brain, how he physically and mentally is closer to us than any other life form hes familiar with, and so on and so forth, that he was once human. that he came from a normal, merry life such as the ones his victims have lived… and that something spoiled that. And obviously that knowledge comes with heavy emotion.

He has two tounges that are always present, they are the result of his normal one tounge being split into two by the cult that healed as two seperate ones. they are very long and work Independently of one another as well. He having demonic influence has another set of tounges creating 8 in total.

His ears are pointed like an elfs, not so long that they extend past his head but they do stick out a bit from his hair. They have very sharp hearing and can hear the heart beat of someone in close proximity such as, shoulder to shoulder or fsce to face …of if bitting their throat. But it's not perfect/fool proof..as noises can often sound the same or be labeled off as something else if you can't see what made it.

He has clawed hands and clawed feet the claws on his feet are more curved. Both his hands and feet fairly human in terms of shape and size, his fingers are a little longer than normal but not to noticeable. The tips of his fingers and are darker than the rest of him. Not jet black but more like a powdered black so to speak. Nothing mittens and socks won't cover. His nails are particularly tough and almost straight. They function like cat claws, they are designed to slice, puncture, and rip rather than paw and pin like a dog's.

I feel like I should dig in a bit more with how his eyes function and just his overall bodily functions and how his general mind works.

starting with vision- He Is blind in terms of human eyesight. Waving your hand In Front him he will not see it. but if its loud and frantic enough will still be able to snap it off as if he could see. That's because he can get a basic understanding/blueprint of his surroundings by using all other senses(smell,taste,touch, hear) and also via vibrations (the main sense he uses). For example, if something drops, the vibration of it hitting the ground and it sending energy up and down the nearby walls and any surroundings would give him a basic outline of the fallen object and the surroundings that vibration/energy got transferred through . How hard the impact/drop is means the more vibrations meaning the more he can see. With that said when pursuing a victim his main goal is to make them give off intense factors of all 4 senses, such as making a wound or getting them to bleed for tracking the strong sent of blood, making them cry, Scream, gasp, etc for loud noises to pinpoint their location (also cause noise bounces of objects and works as impact) and obviously and most importantly make them run so that the impact of their feet works as a perfect radar but also a continuous, pulsing view of his surroundings with each harsh step. Obviously this takes a lot of effort and there are plenty of ways a victim could disorient him(if given enough time to observe him and if they were to think calmly and rationally). so that is why he perfers to strike at night and when his victim is asleep. Or at least at as much as a visual disadvantage as he would be during the day and swiftly enough that they can't evaluate him or even logically asses him. Speaking of which During the day it's obviously the worst time for his sense and for catching humans (especially at noon where human activity is at most). The loud rumble of passing cars drown out all other noises, the intense vibrations of the engines, dozens and dozens of voices, the thousands of differents sounds such obnoxiously loud radios and voices of crowds that bring to light every tiny object within the vicinity and bounce off of every wall overload him to torture. and his least favorite of all, the awful smell of exhaust that chokes his poor lungs and burns his nostrils. If I could pick a worst possible scenario for ej it'd be getting lost in LA during lunch hour. He'd probably just curl up into a screaming ball of pain lime a stressed frog. With this said he can be spooked off with excess noise. Screaming while banging pots and pans with multiple people will send him retreating like a racoon found in a dumpster.

With all that said the sky is the one thing he cannot distinguish. If you were to climb a tree in the distance without alot of noise/attention, he would pass by like nothing. That or a hawk soaring particularly high without beating its wings he would remain unaware.

Same thing for objects. For example let's say he broke into someone's house and ended up in the kitchen, if a cup dropped off the counter as he was feeling around he would most likely "see" part of the counter and the tile, but would not see the cupboards and such as the vibration caused by the cup falling would not be strong enough to bring the cupboard into view. so if he tried to hop over the counter to get to his prey that gasped or jumped at the sight of him and the cup breaking, he would most likely hit the cupboard with his head.

With that also said hiding behind object is also smart as small/medium vibrations would have a hard time mapping density. Using the same example, if you where already aware he broke in and kept you cool enough to hide behind the counter with no noise. The cup breaking would travel up the counter tile first, most likely not having enough vibrations to pass through it completely, let alone reach you, so you would remain undetected as long as you didn't react. (Also for both examples he's in your house so everything smells like you so he wouldn't be able to rely on smell all that well, if your uninjured.)

Sonic booms help him see a lot, almost the whole room his in from top to bottom with the rumble up the walls and sometimes even making dishes clatter. but the noise does make him jump. It's like he opened his eyes for about a second but hit a gong at the same time. Just pray one doesn't happen while you hiding or being hunted by him.

Hopefully that clears things up a bit and the examples where useful.

Because of his unique eyesight, he has great image memory and analysis.

Very animal like in behavior but still managable if conditioned right. As I've said he Remembers basic human behaviour/concepts and can recognize such, like clothes and the concept of being clothed in public and in general. houses and apartments, cars, age differences in people (such as who's an adult, who's a kid,and whose In-between), marriage and romantic bonds, parental bonds, fucking/the act of sex, drugs, alcohol, money everyday life stuff that has been ingrained in his mind so much that they stick even after he became what he is as its the minds instinct to recognize them, Since he was a very successful med student and regularly was observing operations as he was a star pupil and certain basic medical practices, tools, and procedures were ingrained into his mind just like the previously stated normal day things, so he can perform some specific surgeries, sterilize tools, basically all medical procedures he once practiced as if they were instinct and as common as one would tie their shoes. but his mind is still muddled in general, his past normal/human college life is in faded, shattered memories that pop up every once in a while and that Is something that will most likely never change.

His voice box was partially destroyed by the cult and therefore can no longer normally speak in the sense of forming audible and coherent sentences excluding grunts screeches, howls, squeals, hisses, and hence has adapted to using animalistic like behavior to exhibit language.plus when captured by the cult he eventually stopped speaking, they wouldn't listen to that.

He does in fact also use universal body language to communicate such as cocking his head to show confusion or observation, whistling to get somethings attention or alert something, nodding his head to show he agrees or understands, shrugging his shoulders to say idk or idc, shaking his head to show disappointment or as a no or disagreement. thumbs up and thumbs down and middle thumb to show his opinion on something, etc. Sighs and huffs to show dissatisfaction or annoyance, moans to show pleasure and/or pain, etc. He doesn't know hand language as he would need to see to learn.

He kinda stares alot...like alot alot. Just following you around silently at a distance, black eyes watching you cook, clean, Work or move in general unblinking. Usually if you aknowledge him with a "yes or can I help you he'll stop, silently walking the other way or busying himself with something on a nearby shelf

I don't personally headcannon him with tail but if he had one it would be small slender hairless tail, barely extends past his ass cheeks.

Actually now I do.

Body hair wise he has very little. It's still there but very thin and sparse.

Ej has lapses of mental states, some days he's more human and acts like it, he combs out his hair, he takes out his victims remains, brushes his teeth, etc.Other lapses are when he's a demon/more creature, here his behavior is more animalistic and basic. Such as instead of using huffs and sounds of disproval to show irritation hell snap and snarl, he may take off/rip off his clothes as they don't feel right, chew random things, drink dirty sink water, throw up, and might eat expired food or raw food, not that it would really hurt him, to slate hunger (that's usually when he eats humans recklessly, where people find his kills), etc.

Depending if his mind is more human that day or time, he walks normally, with flat feet and his hands in his hoodie. On less human days where he's more creature than man he walks on his tippy toes, alert, to pivot and dart quickly with his hands pulled up slightly like a raptor.That's a tell tale sign on what type of ej your dealing with that day and to change accordingly.

And now for what you've all been waiting for...

Yes he Does go into heat.....

Both a top and a bottom, basically just seeks pleasure on any form and doesn't really have a goal regarding his partner. Very basic thinking as in he wants to cum so will make himself cum. Definitely would need to be trained in the very basics of 2 people sex. Such as the importance of consent( . If you don't you'll most likely end up dead or in the best case possible severely inconvenienced and raked up.) Having a demon humping your leg at 3 am after an exhausting day is not exactly great. Especially when he decides to bury his needle like teeth in your leg to keep you still after you try to shove him off.

Or if your on your period/bleeding in anyway and he thinks your his latest kill and tackles you it's not gonna be fun.

Domination is the best to establish rules and his role. That's the only eay you'll probably survive living with him really is by dominating him sexually and just normally. Basically girlboss him.

He has a knot. I don't make the rules.You're a demon you have to have one.

his dick isn't grey like the rest of him but it's redish pink and very fleshy. Definitely not human looking either, it has odd fringes and fleshy "spikes" as well as the head being more pointed.

I feel I'm gonna cut it there for now so timblr doesnt crucify me and might make a part two if anymore headcannons develop/ come to mind.

#eyeless jack #Creepypasta #E.j.#Creepypasta headcannons #I hate tumblrs character limit

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chickensarentcheap · 2 years

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Esme at work :)

So those who read my stuff know her background. How she worked on the black market as an intel specialist. Yet we rarely get to see her in that element.

Just a little something :)

For context, Tyler ‘recruited’ her to help with a job in Ireland.

@tragiclyhip @youflickedtooharddamnit @munstysmind @mrsmungus @muchadoaboutcj @asirensrage @thesirenrealm @secretaryunpaid @starryeyes2000 @themaradaniels @ninjasawakenedmystar

*****

The wooden floors are scuffed and bowed; peanut shells and wood shavings cracking under the soles of her heels. It fits every stereotype that her mind has ever held of an Irish pub; Guinness on tap, the smell of fish and chips hanging heavily in the air, polished wood tables and booths, chairs and stools and benches clad in rich green vinyl. The Tiffany glass swag lamps that hang over diners as they eat, the dart pools and pool tables taken up by the young and old alike.

She notices the attention she attracts; a fairly young woman clad in modest business attire, the black patent pumps and the vibrant hair. She feels the eyes on her with each patron she passes; the curious, the intrigued, the suspicious. A fresh face in a place like this is bound to turn some heads, and puts an extra sway in her hips as she walks, licking her lips and making them glisten, shy smiles for the men her age and younger, broader and more friendly ones for the elderly gents. It's been a hell of a long time she's had to play this game; lure men in, give them a false sense of confidence, encourage them to approach yet not coming across as too eager. She's missed it. The sense of satisfaction that you get when you know you've got someone on the hook and you just keep reeling them in until they're eating out of the palm of your hand.

“May I?” she address an older man as he drinks at the bar, casting a glance down at the overcoat and the copy of that day's paper that sits on the stool beside him.

“Of course, love. My apologies,” he hurriedly removes the items, then gallantly offers a hand to help her up onto the stool.

“A gentleman,” she muses, and curls her fingers around him, accepting the gesture with a smile.

“Can I buy you a drink, love?” he sounds a little too eager. But he's encouraged by the fact that a woman more than half his age has chosen the seat beside him...out of all the empty stools remaining at the bar...to perch herself upon.

“I'd love to accept, but I'm actually on the job.”

“Something non alcoholic, then. Just to quench your thirst.”

She relents, laying a hand on his shoulder and squeezing lightly. “That would be lovely, thank you.”

“Billy!” he calls down to the bar keep, a younger man that leans against the end of the bar, watching soccer on the flat screen mounted on the nearby wall.

Esme estimates his age; twenty five, thirty at the most. Tall and and thin but blessed with broad shoulders and a wide back. Rowing perhaps. Maybe even swimming. A brush cut that draws attention to the thick silver hoops in each ear lobe and the tribal tattoos that decorate each side of his thick, strong neck. Faded and well fitting blue jeans. Doc Marten boots. A black and red button down plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows and a white tee underneath. Casual, yet well put together. And he regards her suspiciously as he wanders towards them, both hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans.

“Something for my new friend here,” the older gentleman says. “And another for me. “

“Just a diet coke,” she orders with a smile. Not too broad. Not too dazzling. Just right to break the ice. It's a process; some people are more easily charmed than others. She can tell he's going to be more of a challenge. If she seemed too friendly and chatty, it would turn him off from continuing a conversation. Too standoffish and he won't even engage. “Busy in here tonight. Is it always like this?”

“One of our more busy Thursdays,” the bartender confirms, as he moves way to gather their drinks.

“I'm sorry love,” the man beside her speaks up. “But I didn't catch your name,”

“That's because I didn't give it to you. Patience is a virtue, after all.” She pulls out her cell phone...her personal line...and uses the front facing camera as a ruse to fix her make up and touch up her hair, sneaking a picture of the young bar keep as he pours a stein of Guinness. She slips her phone back into the laptop bag, then turns to the older man with her hand out. “I'm Meghan. Meghan Young.”

“George,” he says in return, politely shaking her hand and then going the extra step of pressing his lips against the top of it. “You're not from around these parts, are you? An outsider. What brings a pretty young lass like yourself to these neck of the woods?”

“Business,” she offers a smile of gratitude as the bar keep places her drink in front of her, then takes the plastic straw behind her thumb and forefinger and places just the tip between her lips, eyes never leaving Billy's as she takes a long pull. “I'm here for work,” she continues, and removes one of the business cards from the side pouch on the laptop bag, placing it on the top of the bar and then sliding it across with the tip of her finger.

“What kind of business?” George inquires, sitting sideways on his stool now, leaning towards her ever so slightly.

Billy picks up the card, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he reads the information. “Journalist.”

“For the Chicago Tribune.”

“And they send you all the way here on business?”

“They send me everywhere. Nothing can stop a reporter from chasing a good story. And I've stumbled upon quite the winner, here. I was hoping maybe you gentleman could help me. Give me a little information. Or at least point me in the right direction.”

Billy slips the business card into the breast pocket of his shirt, then leans back against the bar, arms folded across his chest. “What kind of information?”

She leans forward, elbows on the bar, hands clasped around the glass of soda. “I received an anonymous tip. From someone in Chicago that has connections. To the IRA.” Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the way George's eyebrows shoot up, mug of beer pressed to his lips. “Is it true? That this place is owned by a member?”

George is more forthcoming with the information, eager to please and impress. “Indeed it is. Been in the same family for more than fifty years. All of them in the IRA. What makes you so interested?”

“I've heard there's some trouble brewing.” she keeps her voice low. “Between the IRA and one of their ex members. Who has ties to a New Zealand crime family.”

George nods enthusiastically, then looks at the young bar keep. “She's talking about McMann.”

“How do you know of him?” Billy asks her.

“I already said. An anonymous source with his ties to the IRA.”

“What's his name?”

“A journalist never, ever gives up her sources. I'm sure it's the same way with you. I'm sure you'd never out one of your informants would you.”

His smirk grows.

“Look,” she sips at her drink, then taps her fingernails against the glass. “Journalism is a dying art these days. Everything is on the web. There's no substance. No spice. There's no one out there delving into the hard topics and writing truly valuable human interest stories. I want to bring that back. I want to bring back the passion for the written word. A story like this could launch my career. I could really make a name for myself. And I'd really appreciate if you'd help me out. If not now, then maybe we can arrange something? Talk in private?”

He nods down at her wedding band. “You're married?”

“Separated. He's out of the picture. Chose work over me. What's the saying? His loss is another man's game? I really, really, really want this,” she adds a slight plea to her voice. “Badly. And there's nothing I wouldn't do to get the information I need. Is it true? That the IRA kidnapped McMann's wife and son's?”

Billy shakes his head. “Rumour. We...they...had nothing to do with it. It's that crime family you mentioned. Trying to stir up trouble.”

“Do you think we could arrange something? Perhaps I could come back after hours? Or during the day when it isn't as busy?”

He nods, a slow grin spreading across his face. “We can definitely arrange something.”

“And I was thinking...” she runs the sides of her fingers along her straw, her eyes never leaving his. “...it would really help if I could get more than one perspective on things. Perhaps someone higher up the chain of command? A boss? Someone with a little more...pull?”

“I could arrange something.”

“You're a life saver, William,” she shoots him a wink, and she sees the slight blush that creeps into his cheeks at the use of his full name. “Here...give me your hand...” she motions for him to do as asked, and when he steps forward, palm down, she turns it out to face her. Then fetches a pen from her back and scrawls her SAT number into his skin. “This is a better, more private line to reach me on. Non work related. If you catch my drift.”

“Oh I catch your drift alright,” he says, and then gives her hand a squeeze before she pulls it away.

She pulls her cell phone from her back, gasping dramatically when she checks the time. “I'm running late. I have another place to be. More people to talk to. It was a pleasure, William. I look forward to seeing you again.”

“Pleasure was all mine,” he declares. “I'll be in touch.”

She flashes him a dazzling smile. “I hope so. George...” she lays a hand on the older man's back, rubbing softly as she slides off the stool. “You're a gentleman. And incredibly charming. Thank you for the drink.”

“Hope to see you again,” he calls after her, as she slings the laptop bag over her shoulder and heads for the door.

#Tyler and Esme series #Sanctuary

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vylad243 · 1 month

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Can you give some descriptions of human Vox and alastor, appearance wise

Cause if some one *cough cough* wanted to *cough cough* make art of them *cough cough cough* they would need to know what they look like (totally not the person who’s not wanting to make the rainstorms and broken hearts poster😏🤌)

Oh absolutely!

Alastor has caramel skin and very dark brown eyes. He's more on the lean side and has wavy brown hair. He's tall, taller than Vox by a few inches. Later in the book, he gets one of his ears pierced. He does have some muscle, but it isn't really noticeable under all the clothes he wears

Vox is a pasty bitch with one blue and one brown eye. His left eye is blue while his right is brown. He's also tall but is shorter than Alastor and has freckles.

He has both ears pierced and wears glasses. He is underweight and has black hair that's also wavy, but more on the straight end. They both have short hair. Vox's chest and hips are larger/wider, while Alastor looks more like a twig with broader shoulders

Alastor and Vox both have sharp canines, but Alastor's are sharper and more prominent. Vox has a rounder face while Alastor's is more narrow

I hope this helps you a bit 😭 I didn't want to be too specific but I also didn't want to deprive you of details. Feel free ro use as much or as little as you like! I'm just so happy and honoured you want to draw for RABH

#anonymous #Rainstorms and Broken Hearts #RABH

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demonsandco · 2 years

Note

Any thoughts on the brothers body types? I personally refuse to believe that they've all got full 6 pack abs lol

!!!! I think about this wayyyy to often thank you for asking

Lucifer is not very muscular in the least. In fact, his frame is rather slim, which is only exaggerated by how tall he is. His shoulders are fairly broad, and his chest and arms are pretty well built due to his wings, but the rest of him is narrow and lean. While his abdomen is toned, he doesn't have anywhere near enough time or energy to actually maintain abs, nor does he care to even try. He'll often accentuate the narrowness of his waist by wearing corsets under his regular suits.

Mammon has a stereotypical model physique. He has just enough muscle to have a good amount of definition, without looking overly buff or masculine. He's one of the only ones out of all the brothers to actually maintain visible abs, though they do tend to be less noticeable when he's not actively preparing for a modeling gig. As with most winged demons, his upper body is naturally a bit more muscular than the rest of him, but he puts a lot of energy into trying to keep his frame perfectly balanced.

(cont under the cut)

Leviathan's body type is a direct reflection of the fact that the only exercise he does consistently is swimming. He has minimal amounts of muscles in his upper body, and his belly is nice and soft, but his legs and especially his thighs are the complete opposite. All the swimming he does leaves him with surprisingly strong, plush thighs and well defined calves. His impressive height tends to leave him looking awkwardly lanky regardless, though, and he hides behind oversized clothes often, too.

Satan's frame is fairly similar to Lucifer's, much to his distaste, but he's quite a bit broader. Working out sometimes serves as an outlet for him, and he usually ends up focusing only on his upper body through things like boxing. It leaves him with slightly wider shoulders, a bit of a bigger chest, and powerful arms. His waist is pretty narrow in comparison, and while his legs are fairly muscular too, they still appear long and slim. While he does have a toned enough abdomen to have somewhat visible abs, they're not incredibly defined.

Asmodeus has a very androgynous body type, and he works very hard to maintain a toned yet curvy appearance. He focuses a lot on his core and lower body, giving him a toned stomach, without actually defined abs, a nice round butt, and soft, thick thighs. He has a subtle hourglass figure with fairly prominent hip dips. His upper body isn't scrawny by any means either, though, despite the narrowness of his shoulders. He has just enough muscle to add dimension, while still looking soft and cute.

Beelzebub's body type changes drastically almost daily. Typically, unless he specifically prepares for it, he doesn't actually have washboard abs or a bodybuilder physique. In fact, he naturally more closely resembles a strong man, big impressive muscles with a healthy layer of fat. When he's not flexing, he's got a nice soft belly, perfectly balancing the impressive width of his shoulders and chest. There isn't a single muscle group he avoids exercising, leaving him with thick biceps and thighs, a perfectly rounded butt, and pecs big enough to get smothered in.

Belphegor is by far the scrawniest of the brothers. He's not one for exercising much, and he often ends up sleeping through meals, too. He does have some muscle on him, though. He is a demon lord after all, and he enjoys hiking every once in a while. His legs especially are fairly well toned, enough that he wouldn't feel uncomfortably bony if he lays on someone, and his skinniness makes what muscle he does have stand out more. His upper body is all lean muscle, too, not standing out a lot, but still noticeable, and while he does have a flat stomach, he doesn't have any visible abs.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

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earlgreydream · 3 years

Text

shadow summoner.

| darkling x shadow summoner!reader | smut |

worshiping the shadow summoner

for my dyad 🖤

cw: religious motifs

“Aleksander, I’m afraid.”

Your voice was small in the dark, getting lost in the thick, warm, shadows that curled around you.

You reached out in the night, praying for the presence of your shadow saint. Your eyes fluttered open as you heard a deep voice, familiar and authoritative.

“Y/N?”

Your vision focused on the man that stood before you, adorned in a black kefta and silver jewelry. Impossibly dark eyes gazed into yours, a sculpted face framed by black locks.

You sat up, trying to figure out how how the shadow summoner had suddenly appeared in your bedroom. Your trembling fingers clutched your sheets to your chest, offering you little protection as you stared at him.

“How?” You breathed, startled by the presence of the shadow-saint.

“I can feel you. We’re connected, I heard you calling for me,” the deep voice was impossibly smooth, the words effortlessly rolling off of his lips.

“Sankt Aleksander,” your voice was filled with reverence.

His small smile was devoid of the darkness that twisted in shadowy claws around his body.

You wondered if he was real. This gorgeous man- this saint- stood before you with unwavering power and authority. A man who’d shown up in your bedroom when you’d cried out to him, now tangible, using magic that had depths you couldn’t even begin to understand.

“Why me?”

“It is only us. You summon the shadows, do you not?” Aleksander inquired, tilting his pretty head.

You nodded, darkness spilling around you like water, seeping over the floorboards and covering everything in its path.

A proud smile graced his features. A smile you’d die to see again.

“I want to make you my protégé. To teach you how to control your power.”

“Yes, Sankt Aleksander.”

He held out his hand for you, a promise to take you away from the unholy place you resided in. Darkness seemed to rush through his veins, twisting in delicate patterns through his skin.

“Let me take you far from this place. Let me make you a grisha so powerful that even the men of the Barrel in Ketterdam will fall at your feet in worship,” The Darkling spoke, dark eyes boring into yours, seeing the most hidden parts of your soul.

“You have nothing to fear. Not anymore, not with me.”

You grasped his outstretched hand, bridging your connection and allowing yourself to be pulled through.

Your black kefta swept the marble floors, darkness spilling out from your feet, swallowing the castle you stood in. Your training with the shadow saint had proved your talent as a student, and his as a teacher.

Aleksander gripped your wrist, amplifying your abilities. The darkness burst from within you, touching all the way to the horizon.

“I’m proud of you,” he breathed, the words hot against your skin, his breath dancing along your neck, stirring your hair.

“Let me worship you properly, Sankt,” you begged, turning in his grasp.

Your chests rose and fell quickly, the intensity heightening between you. His hand came to your face, bringing you into a kiss. Even in his kiss he was authoritative, heavy and slow, consuming you in lust.

Before you knew it, you were being pulled to his chambers. Your fingers unfastened the dark kefta, pushing it off of his shoulders. Black silk was tight against his skin, his pants already ill-fitting just from feeling your lips against his.

You sank to your knees before him, your hands finding security on his strong thighs. You gently palmed him through the thin silk, suddenly feeling intimidated. He sensed the shift in your confidence, and his hand came down to your head, touching you almost tenderly. He was reassuring you, silently promising approval of your efforts.

“Touch me, Y/N.”

Your fingers hooked into the waistband of the fabric that clung to his hips, pulling it down in one swift motion. You shifted as you felt your arousal pool between your legs at the mere sight of him.

His fingers brushing over your cheekbone snapped you out of your stunned timidness. You carefully wrapped your hand around him, dragging your touch down his length and squeezing, monitoring his reaction. He leaned back against the wall, his hips tilted forward as you knelt between his feet, touching him in a calculated way, trying to extract the pleasure from him that he so desperately deserved.

You didn’t need to be told to use your mouth, leaning forward and lapping your tongue over the beads that were dripping from his slit. A low noise erupted from his throat, his fingers threading into your hair, allowing him to guide your head.

You parted your lips, letting him enter your throat. Aleksander’s moan of pleasure overshadowed the uncomfortable fullness of him in your mouth. Your hand continued to stroke what you couldn’t take, and you bobbed your head, guided by his hands.

His dark head fell back in ecstasy, his moans growing louder as you hollowed your cheeks and worked harder to get him off. His lashes parted, gazing down at you with those dark eyes you wanted to lose yourself in, his heady gaze sending a wave of warmth through you.

You swore you could’ve finished from pleasing him alone, the erotic action, the worship, making lust bloom in your core. It was better than magic, better than calling your power. You thought nothing could replicate that rush, but this was infinitely more satisfying.

“If you don’t...” Aleksander started to speak, unable to make it through his warning before he was releasing down your throat. Tears welled in your eyes as you forced yourself to swallow, proving your devotion.

He pulled out of your mouth, his hands still cradling your head. You simpered, resting back on your heels as you gazed up at him.

He smiled affectionately, the corners of his lips turning up. You leaned into his touch, warm under his adoring gaze. His tall frame bent down over you, pressing a kiss to your mouth, settling any insecurity that arose.

He lifted you to your feet, holding your body against his own.

“Let me fuck you,” he mouthed along your neck, kissing the underside of your jaw and squeezing your breasts through your thin clothing.

“Please, I need you,” your voice came out in a desperate whine, making him smirk at you.

“You have me, summoner,” he assured you.

Your clothes were torn from your body in a display of power, a desperate need to bury himself inside of you. You felt no shame as he stripped you before him, his shirt falling to the floor with the rest of your clothes.

Your hands went to his face, his dark hair prickling under your fingers. Your lips met in a fiery, heated kiss, igniting your body. You were practically screaming for him, a need burning so deep that only he could satiate it.

“Fuck me, Aleksander,” you murmured against his mouth.

He didn’t waste a single second after that, penetrating you until he was fully sheathed inside of you. A cry fell from your lips, your back arching, your chest pressing against his. Aleksander’s hips met yours, though he was much broader than you, his well-endowed length nearly tearing you apart.

He bit your shoulder, stifling his own scream. He melted into you, letting your body swallow him. His swollen lips pressed to your throat, kissing your skin.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper inside of you. Darkness rose around you, your screams getting lost in the shadows that creeped around you. You threw your head back as Aleksander’s hips rocked against yours in hard, steady movements. Red lines dragged down his milky skin as you clawed at his back, the pressure building behind your navel. You felt every ridge and vein of him through your thin walls as he fucked you, sending shocks of pleasure through your limbs.

“Aleksander!” you cried, your arms wrapping around his neck, holding his sweat-slick body against your own.

“Let go, let me feel you fall apart on me,” Aleksander’s smooth voice pushed you over your peak, warmth radiating through your body as the tension in your legs released.

Your screams were swallowed in his kiss, his seed pouring into you as he came for the second time. His hands searched for purchase on your body, coming to squeeze your hip as he collapsed over you.

“Did I worship my saint properly?” you breathed between kisses, meeting his dark eyes.

“Yes,” he almost laughed, his nose brushing against yours.

“Will you stay?” He questioned, rolling off of you, onto his back.

An arm folded under his head, his face turned to look at you. You were sitting up on your knees, your hand resting on his chest, tracing over a tattooed symbol.

“As long as you let me,” you answered.

His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you down onto his chest, into another kiss.

“I still have some things to teach you.”

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

Hi!! I was wondering if you could do another fic involving jules and coops together? Just like sweet moments between the three? I loved the baby sitting series you did and could not stop thinking about it❤️❤️ Thank you!!

Yeah, of course! I love writing my boy at any opportunity. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove, but the relatives are my ocs!

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Sirius asked under his breath as Remus finally—finally—appeared from the mass of people.

“It’s fine,” Remus said around a forced smile to a middle-aged man across the yard.

Sirius hid his mouth by pretending to look down at the nearest casserole dish. He didn’t even know what was in it; nobody had bothered with labels, and everyone’s dishes were the same basic florals in different colors. “I love you, Re, and I totally get the whole ‘meet the parents’ thing, but this is a bit much if I’m being honest.”

“Honey.” Remus’ shoulder pressed against his own. “I’m sorry you’re not having a good time, but my Aunt Jen would skin me alive if I didn’t bring the man I’m marrying to the family reunion. We can leave tomorrow if you really hate—oh, no.”

“Remus!” a shrill, excited voice called. Sirius felt his fiancé straighten up as a tall, redheaded woman in star-painted jeans hurried across the grass with three other women in tow. She reached up and gave Remus’ cheeks a squish, then leaned in a planted a lipstick-stamped kiss to his forehead. “How are you, my duckling? Was your flight alright? Make sure you stay away from the salt or else your feet will swell.”

“Hi, Aunt Jen,” Remus said, grimacing a little at her rib-crushing hug. “I’m doing well, and our flight was fine. How are you?”

“Peachy keen,” she assured him. Dark brown eyes lasered in on Sirius half a second later and he felt his fight or flight kick in. “And who are you?”

“Aunt Jen, this is—”

“It was rhetorical, honey,” Jen interrupted with a pat to Remus’ arm as she stepped closer to Sirius and immediately hauled him in for a hug. She was as tall as Remus, but broader in the shoulders and hips; he had never felt so engulfed by someone. It was a strangely enjoyable feeling.

“Aren’t you a handsome one?” the shortest of the group cooed, as if she was talking to a particularly small dog in a purse. “Our Remus always knew how to pick them.”

Remus furrowed his brows. “Aunt Lisa, this is the first boyfriend I’ve—”

“But he’s not just a boyfriend!” Jen trilled, giving Sirius’ cheek a pat. “He’s a fiancé, something I learned from your mother. Not from your father—oh, I gave him a talking-to about that—and not from you, duck.”

Sirius bit back a laugh at the nickname and spared a glance to his left, where Remus had gone pink all the way to his ears. “Sorry.”

“Introduce us!” the shortest insisted, taking the other two by the hands as pulling them forward with an eager smile.

“Everyone, this is Sirius Black, my fiancé.” Remus gestured between them, and the four women beamed at him. “Sirius, this is Aunt Jen, Aunt Lisa, Aunt Allison, and Aunt Mary, my dad’s sisters.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Sirius said, holding a hand out.

“No need to be so formal,” the brunette grumbled with a teasing grin. “We have heard so much about you from Lyall. After those damned pictures—”

“Allison,” Jen hissed.

“—after the damned pictures,” Allison repeated with a pointed look. “I was about ready to drive up to Gryffindor myself and give that lousy son of a bitch a piece of my mind—”

“Allison!”

“—but Lyall talked me down and I have been waiting to meet you ever since.” She finished with a soft huff and gave his arm a quick squeeze. “Remus is a lucky boy to have you. It’s very exciting to see you in person at last.”

Sirius’ heart gave a happy little ka-thump and he smiled. “I’m glad to be here. Thank you for having me.”

“He is so polite,” Lisa said to Remus out of the corner of her mouth with a wink and a thumbs-up. “Good choice.”

“You know what I just realized? We haven’t said hello to Jules yet. We’ll see you in a few, yeah?” Without waiting for an official answer, Remus wrapped an arm around Sirius’ waist and practically carried him away from the table. Once they were out of earshot—and the aunts had busied themselves with one of the younger Lupins—Remus relaxed with a slow exhale. “I am…so sorry.”

“For what?”

“I had no idea they were going to corner you like that. I mean, I did, but I was hoping it wouldn’t be for another few hours. They tend to move in a pack at reunions, like sharks. Or wolves.”

“They’re really sweet.”

“They are,” Remus said grudgingly, though Sirius could read the affection dripping off him like his favorite book. “My dad’s the youngest of five, and I was the first nephew. You can imagine how that went.”

“Baby of the baby?”

“Exactly.”

“Can I ask one thing?” Remus nodded, visibly confused, and Sirius found he couldn’t keep his grin down any longer. “Duckling?”

“I hoped you didn’t hear that,” he groaned as they headed toward the kids’ play area beneath a large oak. “Long story short, it involved five-year-old me, a pond, and a sinus infection that made me sound like a duck when I sneezed.”

“Oh my god,” Sirius laughed, earning himself a light elbow to the ribs. “And the name stuck?”

“Considering she was the one that had to stay with me while my folks were working, she could call me whatever the hell she wanted. Please don’t ask her about it unless you want a thirty-minute TED talk about the ins and outs of my sinuses.”

“She’s a doctor?”

“No, she just overshares.”

“Sirius!”

Sirius looked up and saw a herd of small children racing toward them, led by his favorite person under the age of eighteen; Jules crashed into his legs and squeezed him tight around the waist. “Hey, I missed you!”

Jules propped his chin below Sirius’ sternum and stared up at him with the classic hazel-gold eyes that were far more common than Sirius believed before they arrived in the Lupins’ backyard. “I missed you, too! How’s the team? How’s Harry? Is he still super small or did he do that weird thing that babies do where their legs grow and the rest of them still looks normal? How was your flight? Did you have turbulence?”

Sirius thought for a moment. “Good, also good, growing normally, and yes.”

“Sweet! Come play cornhole with us!” Jules grabbed his hand and dragged him along the grass at the closest thing he could manage to a sprint with Sirius’ added weight—the pre-teen years had lent him gangly legs, though he didn’t seem quite sure how to use them yet. He looked more like a foal than a sixth-grader.

“What the hell is cornhole?” Sirius muttered as the flock of kids ran ahead to grab armfuls of beanbags.

Remus grinned. “Something I’m about to kick your ass at.”

------------------------------------

By the time the sun set, Sirius was exhausted. He had been introduced to dozens of people who looked just enough like Remus to be eerie, as well as plenty who seemed to have been acquired by one Lupin or another over the course of their life. Jules fluctuated between laminating himself to Sirius’ side and disappearing for an hour at a time, only to return more grass-stained and rumpled than ever as he begged Remus to swing him around by the ankles again. His ass had been thoroughly kicked at cornhole and freeze tag; it was a true miracle he hadn’t already passed out into a food coma. For all of his earlier griping, Sirius couldn’t think of a time in recent months when he had been more content.

“You’re a brave soul,” Remus remarked as they sat in the grass together and watched the fireflies wake. Though it was a warm night, it seemed the citronella candles littering the tables were doing their job of chasing off mosquitoes.

Sirius leaned his head on Remus’ shoulder. He smelled like grass and summertime and sunbaked warmth. “Am I?”

“Mhmm. I’m sure most people would have run screaming by now.”

“I like your family.”

A beat of silence passed; Remus rested his temple against the top of Sirius’ head. “I’m really glad to hear that. They’re weird and loud, but I love them.”

“And I love you.”

“Are you saying I’m weird and loud?”

“On occasion.”

“Asshole,” Remus laughed, giving him a nudge that hardly qualified as more than a gentle sway.

“Language, there are eight million kids around.”

“They’re busy.”

Sirius watched as small group run by in a wave of giggles, all clutching mason jars of fireflies with their names written on masking tape. “Thank you again for asking me to come with you.”

“Like I said, Aunt Jen would—”

“Remus.” He fell quiet. Sirius didn’t remember the last time he said Remus’ full name aloud. “Your family loves you so much. They’re everything I ever wanted growing up, and it means the world that you wanted to share them with me. All they want is to see you happy. It was amazing to finally meet them.”

“They really, really love you,” Remus said softly, his voice a little thick. “I had about twenty people tell me how wonderful you are. They all thanked me for bringing you, and not a single one mentioned the celebrity thing. Even my Uncle Jay didn’t say a word about hockey.”

“He was the one in the jersey?”

“I’ve known him for my entire life and I’ve never seen him without one.”

“Huh.” Sirius tucked his face closer to Remus’ neck and let the sound of the bullfrogs in a distant marsh lull him. “What time is it?”

“Almost eleven. The adults will be up for a while, but the kids will start crashing soon.”

Footsteps on the cool grass rustled to their right and Sirius looked up. “Who wants pie?” Aunt Allison singsonged, breaking their quiet bubble with paper plates and utensils. “This one is blackberry, but we have peach, pumpkin, and a few others on the table if you’re still hungry.”

“Just a small piece, please,” Sirius said.

Allison paused and cocked her head, then burst out laughing. “Oh, you’re funny!”

“I am?”

“Don’t fight it,” Remus whispered.

“You are a growing boy,” Allison said as she cut a thick slice and plonked it onto his plate. “And there’s no such thing as too much pie.”

I’m 26, Sirius wanted to say, though he held it in. “Just a small one for me, as well,” Remus said.

“Ha!” Allison snorted. “You’re already too skinny. Eat your pie or you’ll end up a string bean like your father. The NHL might have given you muscle, but it’s useless if you don’t enjoy some of your favorite aunt’s—”

“—woah, hey now—”

“—pie once in a while.” Allison kissed the tops of their heads once both plates were secure and bowing in the middle. “I’m going to make sure the kids aren’t poking around in the river again. Sleep well, you two.”

Sirius stared down at his plate as she wandered away. “I’m honestly going to die if I eat this.”

“Yeah, please don’t make yourself sick on pie. You really don’t have to eat all of that. The aunts and uncles are convinced that none of us are eating properly once we turn eighteen.”

“Really?”

“I wish I was kidding. You’re going to sleep so well tonight, though.”

As if on cue, Sirius stifled a yawn with the back of his hand and cuddled under Remus’ arm again. A familiar shadow bounded over not two seconds later and he barely held down a groan. “Hey, can I join you?”

Remus shrugged. “ ‘course.”

“Sweet.” Jules settled himself across their laps, staring at the sky with his head pillowed on Sirius’ thigh. “Did you have fun? I’m really glad you could come.”

“I had a great time,” Sirius answered honestly. Now please move on so I can take a nap.

“Mom and dad and me got here yesterday, and Aunt Jen kept checking the door for you guys even though she knew you weren’t coming until today. She was worried you wouldn’t like us, I think.”

“That was never an option, Jules.”

“Yeah, I know.” A devilish grin flickered over his face. “Remus is the weirdest of all of us, and if you want to marry him—”

“Get off,” Remus grumbled, shoving Jules’ legs onto the picnic blanket. “You know, you were a lot nicer before you turned eleven. Can I return you and get a new one? I have the receipt somewhere.”

“Nope.”

“That’s all a birth certificate is, right?” Sirius raised his eyebrows. “If you bring it back in good condition, I hear they give you a ten percent discount.”

Jules scowled. “That’s so not true.”

“How do you think I got Regulus?”

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” Remus asked with a pointed look. “Run along, problem child.”

“Of the two of us, I’m the least problematic.” Despite his words, Jules clambered to his feet and dusted his hands off over Remus’ head. “I’m not the one that got a secret boyfriend and got engaged in a year. I’m so easy. Mom and dad want two of me.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Remus sighed as he stretched out on the blanket. “They had a second kid because they wanted two of me.”

“You’re adopted.”

Remus cracked one eye open in disbelief. “No, I’m not.”

“How do you know?”

“Because—y’know what, go to bed. Or go find the stampede, I think they’re by the river.”

Sirius whistled lowly as Jules scampered off again. “That was impressive. Isn’t your aunt over there?”

“Yep.”

Realization clicked into place. “She’s going to make him go to bed.”

“Yep.”

“You’re brilliant.”

Remus smiled without opening his eyes, and tugged Sirius down by the sleeve to lay next to him. “You’re just figuring that out now?”

The stars were brighter than anywhere Sirius had ever seen; for a moment, he was struck speechless by the endless rivers of sparkling white overhead. He stared until his eyes burned from dryness, then put his head on Remus’ chest and kept on looking. There was no way he could tear his gaze from it. A few shooting stars streaked across the clear sky and he felt his heart skip a beat in pure amazement when he realized there was nothing else he would wish for in that moment. He could listen to Remus’ heartbeat and the sound of his new family talking against a backdrop of the night, relishing in a full belly and cool wind, and simply stay there for as long as he liked.

#sirius black #remus lupin #julian lupin #coops #lupin family #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #family reunion

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years

Text

Take Me, I’m Yours

(the highest voted options on the poll were ‘Geralt rescues Jaskier from trouble’ and ‘Jaskier riles the Captain up in public’ so I teamed up with the ever-marvelous, stupendously talented @limrx to bring you this Swashbuckling AU oneshot/art piece featuring a horribly jealous Geralt and a frisky, flirty Jaskier)

------------------------

“Do you think he likes me back?” Jaskier asked. He leaned over the ship’s railing to look more closely at the dolphin following behind them. Lambert didn’t think he’d fall overboard but it would be kind of funny if he did. The strange young nobleman did have a way of always landing on his feet, though.

“I know he does.”

“Well how come he hasn’t told me anything about it, then?”

“You’ve met the Captain, right? About this tall, long white hair, weird yellow eyes, emotionally incompetant?”

“You have a good point. Should I just confront him about it?”

“Yeah, sure.” Lambert rolled his eyes before shooting Jaskier a pointed look. “If you want to send your ransom note back to Lettenhove the following morning.”

“Fuck. I just want to kiss him, Lambert. Regularly. I want to know if he snores or not. I want to lay on the deck beneath the stars and talk to him like we’re friends and not just pirate and pseudo-pirate-captive. I really want to see what his ass looks like under those godsforsaken trousers, Lambert, it’s killing me not knowing.”

“You’re more insatiable than a siren during the rainy season,” the second mate teased. “But with fewer teeth.”

“Shut up.”

“Are you going ashore when we lay anchor?”

“Am I allowed?”

“I assume you’ll be allowed. You’re practically part of the crew. You’ve been aboard for nearly two weeks and you’ve pulled your fair share of the weight, if not moreso.”

“Why thank you, Lambert. I appreciate you noticing.”

“Of course, Jaskier. You may be an utter fool and a fop to boot, but at least you’re a hard worker.”

“Asshole.”

“Mhm.”

They both watched the dolphins for a minute in silence before Jaskier’s face split into the most heinous and dastardly grin. It filled Lambert with an unmistakable sense of fear and worry. “I have a brilliant idea. I know how to get Geralt to admit his feelings.”

“No, absolutely not. I am not getting roped into this, you horrible little minx. Don’t give me that look! I won’t help you this time!”

“But Lamby-bert,” Jaskier whined. “If he has someone to take all his frustrations out on in bed then I’m sure it’ll be easier to negotiate for higher shares next time we take a vessel.”

Lambert did not miss the fact that Jaskier said ‘we’ when referring to the crew. The second mate knew the little nobleman was here to stay; it had been clear that Jaskier would be sticking around from the moment Geralt first laid eyes (and hands) on him. The Captain hadn’t stopped looking out for the lad since. Lambert wasn’t even going to think about that singular flirty kiss atop the mainmast nearly a week and a half ago. Geralt had been pining after the acrobatic little idiot ever since and making absolutely no move to flirt back. It was driving the crew absolutely crazy. “Alright, you devilish siren. I’m in.”

----------------------------------------

Jaskier cleaned up nice.

And he deserved to clean up nice. He’d worked hard to put this outfit together. Billy had lent him a pair of dark blue breeches in return for Jaskier’s help with mending the mainsail. The shirt he was wearing was half a size too big, which was exactly big enough for the neckline to plunge even lower than he usually wore it. This way it revealed more of his toned (and rather hirsute) chest. He’d borrowed it from Starkey, who was the same height as him but who had much broader shoulders.

The Captain was going to absolutely die when he saw Jaskier.

He whistled a rather naughty shanty as he exited the bunk room and made his way towards the gangplank where Starkey, Lambert, and Eskel were waiting for him. He spun in a quick circle, arms out to show off his clothes. Lambert and Starkey whistled appreciatively and Eskel hid his face in the palm of his hand. “Ready, boys?”

“Absolutely not,” Starkey smiled. The first mate standing next to him tilted his head back to look at the sky, sighing deeply.

“Are you sure about this? What if the Captain tries to kill Lambert?”

“He won’t be killing anyone. Hopefully. If he does run his sword through anyone, it will most likely be me,” Jaskier joked. “Now, this is my first time drinking with real pirates. Anything I should know?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Eskel suggested. Lambert bit back a laugh and Starkey snorted.

“Impossible.”

“Well then, let’s go.”

The four men made their way down onto the docks and through the sparse crowd of sailors and merchants still mingling in the evening light. Starkey led them to a decent tavern and found a vacant corner table, which gave them an excellent view of the door.

Geralt and Starkey had spent the morning selling their stolen cargo to various merchants, shopkeepers, and artisans. The Captain had divided up the gold between his crew according to their various contracts and Jaskier, more as a jest than anything else, was given two crowns as well. “For not dying,” Geralt had intoned seriously. The men were amused but Jaskier’s face had gone bright red with embarrassment. The young noble had talked them out of trouble with the Skelligan patrols twice last week and Geralt was repaying him with public humiliation? Lambert knew that the Captain’s earlier actions were about to make this evening a lot more entertaining (if slightly uncomfortable) and he was ready to get this show on the road. He flung an arm around Jaskier’s waist and ordered them all a round of ales.

“So everyone knows what the general goal here is, right?” Jaskier clarified.

“Yes,” Eskel nodded. “You’re using Geralt’s jealous nature to make him act on his less than subtle feelings for you.”

“Correct. Wonderful.”

Lambert squeezed the noble’s hip through his borrowed pants and Jaskier huffed indignantly in reply. Starkey chuckled softly at their antics and winked at the barmaid when she brought them their drinks. “Can’t wait, really. It’s been so boring lately and the last two ships we took didn’t even fight back. This is drama. This is entertainment!”

“Shut up, Starkey,” Jaskier pouted. He leaned back into Lambert’s embrace and gulped down half his ale.

“Slow down, kid,” the first mate teased. “Or you will be drunk when he gets here and your plan won’t work.”

“I need to get the pink in my cheeks or I’ll look suspicious,” Jaskier argued. “One ale should do it without getting me tipsy. Maybe two if it’s weak.”

“Method actors,” Lambert rolled his eyes.

Jaskier was sipping slowly at his second ale and the other three pirates were on their fourth or fifth when Geralt finally came barreling through the tavern door. “There you are!” Eskel shouted, waving the Captain over. Nobody missed the barely-hidden glare Geralt aimed at Lambert’s arm where it rested against the nobleman’s lower back.

“Captain,” the second mate nodded.

“Lambert. Eskel. Starkey.” Geralt greeted them all in turn.

“Heyyyy,” Jaskier whined, leaning forward against the edge of the table and pouting. “What about me, sir?”

“You.”

“Rude,” the brunette huffed. Lambert ran a lazy hand up and down his spine and Jaskier watched as Geralt’s eyes narrowed into slits. He sighed sadly and melodramatically into his mug and nodded once in the second mate’s direction. “Thank you, darling. At least someone in this crew likes me.”

Starkey saw Geralt’s eyelid twitch and slid Eskel two crowns under the table to settle their bet. He thought the vein on their Captain’s throat would show up before the eyelid went, but it must have been the first mate’s lucky night this time around. “Hey Eskel, let’s see if any of the lovely ladies here want to dance with us, eh?”

“You coming, Captain?” Eskel asked. “Seems like Jaskier and Lambert are a bit busy.”

“Yes, Geralt,” Jaskier egged him on. The Captain had a white-knuckled grip on the handle of his mug. The noble took a long swig of ale and licked a bit of foam from his lip when he was finished, noting the way Geralt’s eyes locked onto his mouth. “Why not go dance with a pretty lady. Certainly nobody else has your attention.”

The pirate Captain finally snapped. He slammed his mug down and reached around the table to grab Jaskier around the waist. He hauled him out of the second mate’s grip and onto his feet. “Captain, what are yo-”

“Yer coming with me, siren,” Geralt snarled. Lambert relinquished the nobleman with very little fuss, winking at Jaskier as the pirate Captain swung him up and over his broad shoulder. The young man flashed all three of his co-conspirators a thumbs up as he was carried out of the tavern like a sack of potatoes.

“A little rude to Lambert, don’t you think, sir?” he asked, resting his elbow against Geralt’s shoulder blade and settling his chin onto his hand. He crossed his ankles to make it easier for the pirate to balance his weight comfortably. “But they’ll be happy to know that our little plan worked out.”

Geralt stopped in his tracks but did not set his captive down. “Your what?”

“Our plan,” Jaskier explained as if bored. “To get you to finally do something about all this sexual tension between us. I kissed you on the mouth for fuck’s sake.”

“I thought it was an accident.”

“Oh, and saving you from hanging at the hands of some Skelligan officers, was that an accident? Not sending a ransom note last time we stopped for water and not turning you in for the reward in Novigrad, were those accidents too? There is a hefty bounty on your head, White Wolf, and I could be living independently in a castle somewhere right now except that I happen to find you endlessly attractive and fascinating.”

“Hmm.” Geralt resumed walking. Jaskier noticed with a smirk that his pace had picked up quite a bit. As if he was suddenly in a hurry to be somewhere.

“Hum dismissively all you like, sir, but you’re still carrying me back to your cabin to ravish me senseless, are you not?”

“Ravish may be the wrong word for what I’d like to do to you, but you do look rather tempting.”

“Thank you. I put a lot of effort into this ensemble.”

“You’re a calculating little nymph, aren’t you?”

“No, of course not. I only managed to secure a bunk aboard the Kaer Morhen and wrap its infamous captain around my finger in less than a month. I am but a silly nobleman with excellent dexterity and a penchant for climbing.”

“Lambert was right to call you a minx.”

“He does love that nickname.”

“It’s not an endearment.”

“Whatever.” The ground shifted and Jaskier knew they were making their way up the gangplank and back onto the ship. This was the part he’d been waiting for! Geralt kicked in his cabin door and stepped inside, turning to close and lock it behind them. Jaskier wriggled impatiently. “Set me down!”

“Hmm, no. I rather like the view from here.”

“Excuse me?”

Geralt gave him a gentle smack on the ass, almost a pat really, and huffed out a laugh at Jaskier’s offended noise. “You’ve been an awful lot of trouble for a nobleman and a captive.”

“I’m barely a captive, Geralt. Give it up already.”

“You haven’t signed the book.” He set Jaskier back on his feet and looped his arms around the younger man’s waist to pull him close. “You’re still a captive until you swear on the book and sign your name next to the others. Then you’ll be part of my crew.”

“I have yet to negotiate for my shares,” the brunette stated. He tilted his chin back, baring his neck slightly and offering Geralt his ale-damp lips. “Ten crowns after every capture and I get to sleep in here with you. That sounds fair.”

“You’re a good worker. Seven crowns, you can sleep in here with me, and you can borrow my bandannas whenever you want.”

“Even the red one?”

“Especially the red one.”

Jaskier’s soft pink mouth brushed against the pirate’s as he murmured his answer: “Deal.”

Geralt’s lips crashed against Jaskier’s with the strength of a wave hitting the side of his ship in a maelstrom. The Captain’s mouth was so warm and his lips moved against the younger man’s with almost frightening determination. As if he was trying to prove himself. His arms were strong around the nobleman’s lower back and his white hair brushed deliciously against the skin of Jaskier’s neck.

“You’ve bewitched me, body and soul.”

“Oh, Geralt,” the younger man sighed, opening his mouth to let the other in. I never thought the word ‘plunder’ could apply to kissing but here I stand, corrected by experience yet again. The White Wolf of the Seven Seas pulled away, made breathless by a young and foolish nobleman in search of adventure.

“I’m not a siren, you know. Not even a little. My family’s estate is landlocked.”

Geralt’s fingers rose from his waist and brushed against his cheekbone reverently. Those amber eyes, so cold and focused when he shouted orders or intimidated a merchant captain, were looking down at Jaskier with such devoted tenderness. The ex-noble felt his heart fill anew and double in size. There wasn’t enough room in his body to hold all of this feeling.

“Kiss me again, Captain. Take me to bed.”

“You’re too good at tempting me. You must be evil.”

“I assure you,” Jaskier smirked, ripping Geralt’s shirt over his head in one smooth movement. “I am.”

3K notes · View notes

bluewhale52 · 4 years

Text

My Fantasy (M)

Summary: Namjoon has a fantasy he wants to fulfill. You’re more than happy to do it for him.

Pairing: Namjoon x reader

Genre: smut, kinda angtsy and kinda fluffy? Namjoon and OC are friends with benefits

Word count: 4.1k

Rating: 18+/ M/ NSFW. Minors are not welcome here.

Warning: boss - secretary roleplay, breast and nipple play, oral (m & f receiving), face fucking, deep throating, vaginal fingering, unprotected penetrative sex (pls practice safe sex!), multiple orgasm, degradation (Joon calls OC slut a couple of times) soft dom! Joon if you squint, sweet Joon, big tiddie Joon and big biceps Joon because what’s a girl to do when he’s been flaunting it?

Also ON era for Joon reference.

Enjoy, hope you like it 💜

You twirl in front of the floor length mirror in your walk-in wardrobe, and give yourself a satisfied smile.

He’d love this, you think, that you’re wearing just as what he’s asked. The light blue lingerie set is hidden under a cute, lacy shirt and a flowy skirt. You had offered to wear a shorter skirt, one that gives a peep of your ass when you bend over in the slightest. But he refused it- he wanted to leave more to the imagination. And you gladly accept his explanation. It’ll make tonight more fun. You’ll just have to be extra flirty and playful with him.

He arrives five minutes early than the arranged time, as always. You give your place a last look- clean without any sign of personal photos or items, candles with sweet smells of cinnamon-vanilla lit and positioned strategically in your living room. Checking your makeup and your hair one last time, your body tingles as you head to the door.

His tall, lean body fills the doorway easily. He’s grown his hair longer since you last saw him, and you like it. Shaggy strands reaching his eyes, the sides long enough to tuck behind his ears. You’ll have fun tugging his hair tonight. Looking further south, you notice his chest seems broader too, filling his black sweater, making your mouth water. Oh, you’ll have fun scraping your nails on his pecs, all right.

“Namjoon,” you greet him with a sweet, smile, rising on your toes to kiss his cheek.

“Hi _______ ,” he smiles back and gives you a hug. His large hands pressing your back, sending shivers down your spine. He steps into your apartment, and takes a deep breath. “Smells nice in here.”

You hum smugly. “I knew you’d like it.”

“I like what you’re wearing too.” He looks you up and down. “Thanks for letting me pick out your outfit tonight.”

Not just punctual, he’s always so polite and sweet too. That's why he’s your favourite in your little black book.

You twirl for him, your skirt rising slightly above your knees as your turn. “Pretty.” you hear him murmur. But from the way he looks at you, you know pretty is not the only thing he thinks of you now.

You link your fingers with his. “Wine?” you offer.

“If you don’t mind, I’d rather drink you up.” He licks his lips.

Your breath hitches at his action. You lead him into your expansive living room, and direct him to sit on your leather sofa, across from your large flat screen TV. It’s a calculated move; he’ll be able to see his and your reflection there.

Namjoon settles himself on your sofa, and you stand between his spread legs. His hands reaches for the hem of your skirt, fingering it gingerly but with great anticipation. You sway your hips slightly, coyly, making your skirt floats playfully over his hands.

“Are you teasing me, little one?” Your skin burns at his pet name for you.

“Do you want me to tease you, Daddy?” He groans. Still standing, you lean forward towards him, arching your back slightly, to push your breasts to his face.

“Hmmm,” he meets you halfway, you can feel his hard chest against your tummy, he is eye level with your breasts, and his hands have moved up to grope your ass over your skirt. And your panties, you can feel them getting wetter by the second.

Namjoon clears his throat. “Do you mind, if tonight you call me Mr Kim?” he asks shyly.

Now you are sure your panties are ruined.

“Not at all. If that’s what you want.” You tuck his hair behind his ear. Yes, you definitely prefer his longer hair.

“It’s just... it’s been a really shitty month at work, and uh... I’ve fantasized about it for weeks...” he trails off.

You run your fingers through his hair. “Ah, I get it. You want me to be an innocent secretary so you can take advantage of me?” You tease him.

He lets our a nervous laughter, burying his face on your chest. Your heart is beating so fast, you’re sure he can feel it.

“So cliche, isn't it?” He looks up at you. God, you are so weak for this man.

You slide your fingers from his hair down to his shoulders. “Oh, Mr Kim,” you demurely say, “your shoulders are so tense. You must be so stressed out from work.”

“I am, Miss _____ ,” he mouths against your chest, you feel his hot breath through your shirt. “Help me take my mind off work?” His hands are still over your skirt, rubbing up and down your the back of your thighs.

You moan when he suddenly rubs harder, dragging your skirt material up towards your ass. “How can I help you, sir?” You meet his eyes, your voice breathy. This part is not an act, you are truly desperate for him.

He leans back on the sofa, and you almost whine out loud when his hands leave your legs. “You can start by showing me your pretty panties.” His eyes stare at your core.

Putting on a shy smile, you reach the hem of your skirt and slowly pulls it up, until your light blue satin panties are in full view for Namjoon. He exhales steadily, his firm gaze makes you ache for him even more.

“You like what you see, Mr Ki- Ah!” You moan out loud as his finger slides between your legs, pressing onto your slit over your panties. He drags the tip lazily forward, but stops just before reaching your clit.

“Why don’t you turn around, let me see it from the back?” You obediently do as he asks. “Bend over, put your hands on the coffee table.”

You suppress your moan as you get into position. With his legs between yours, he wedges you to stand with feet apart, spread as wide as possible. You bend forward, resting your elbows on the coffee table, silently thanking your daily yoga regiments.

Namjoon flips your skirt over your bottom, and you can hear him shuffling forward. You look up to your TV, seeing your wanton self reflected on the screen. You gasp and close your eyes as you feel Namjoon’s nose poking at your sex.

“You smell so good,” you shudder at his breath over your slit. “And you are so fucking wet. Did I make you wet, Miss _____ ?”

You whimper. “Yes, Mr Kim, you always make me so wet.”

Namjoon flattens his tongue on your panties. You nearly wail at the sensation. “Mr Kim!” Your body jerks forward, but somehow you manage to grind yourself back at his mouth.

His fingers are at the waistband of your panties. “Take them off.”

You straighten up and quickly pull your panties down, your back still to Namjoon, and his hands bunching your skirt around your waist. Then you spread your legs again, and you bend forward, slowly, giving him a full view of your bare pussy and ass.

You swear you hear him whine before he roughly grabs your ass and spread your asscheeks. His mouth immediately latches onto your cunt, tongue greedily pokes into your dripping hole, before it moves upwards to the skin between your pussy and your asshole. You sob his name out loud and your whole body shudders at his ministrations.

“Taste so good,” Namjoon says between licks. “I’m going to eat you out all night.” Lick. “Gonna make you cum on my tongue over and over.” Lick. “Gonna drink you up.” Lick.

“Mr Kim, Mr Kim...” you chant his name like a prayer. “I’m so close...”

“Already?” Amusement clear in his voice. “I’ve only just started, little one. Such a slut, are you, impatient to cum for me?”

“Please, Mr Kim...” you beg, when you feel Namjoon’s mouth leaving your soaking core. “I want to cum so bad. For you.” You look up and catch your reflection, and Namjoon’s, on the TV. You look so desperate. And Namjoon’s reflection smirks at you.

He returns to your dripping cunt, starts to lap up at your juices even more hungrily. His large hands are on your ass cheeks still, fingers digging, moulding your flesh this way and that.

Your clit is throbbing painfully, you can’t believe he hasn’t even touch it since you started. Your legs are shaking more now, you feel the lusty tautness all over your body. Namjoon’s tongue moves up and circles your puckered hole, making you cry out his name. Then he quickly goes back to your wet hole, tongue-fucking you to your orgasm and through it.

Namjoon patiently waits till you come down from your high. He helps you stand up, his hands rubbing all over your body, easing the achiness from being bent over for an extended period of time.

“Are you OK, little one?” He envelops you from behind. You sigh as you feel your skirt floats down to cover your bare sex and ass. You nod.

“That was amazing, Mr Kim,” you answer, still breathless. “You make me feel so good.”

“I love making you feel good, you deserve it.” Groaning against your hair, Namjoon cups your breasts. The lace on your shirt feels rough against his hands. He can't wait to feel your satin bra underneath.

“I’ve fantasised this so many times, little one. Spreading you on my desk, eating your pretty little cunt.” He leans down to nibble on your ear. “You hiding under my desk, sucking me off. Seeing these tits bounce as you ride me in my office. Fucking you against the wall in the restroom.”

You lean back against Namjoon, your juices continue leaking down your thighs. Your heart is pounding so hard against your chest and Namjoon feels it, his hands kneading your breasts harder. You press yourself closer to him, his hard cock poking against your lower back and you drool at the feel of it.

Turning around, you palm and stroke Namjoon’s cock over his slacks. “Can I suck you, Mr Kim?”

Namjoon shakes his head. “I told you little one, I want to make you cum over and over with my tongue tonight.”

“But you’re so hard,” you pout cutely. Namjoon taps your nose.

“You'll get my cock soon enough. After I make you cum again. OK, little one?”

You let Namjoon move you, to sit you on the sofa, your ass close to the edge. He kneels between your legs, instructing you to lift the front of your skirt. Once again bared to him, he swallows thickly. He breathes in the smell of your sex, his mind drunk for you. He can’t get enough. You always make him want more.

Namjoon grabs your legs and lifting them to form an erotic V. You feel yourself pulsate down there, squeezing out arousal to drip down onto your skirt underneath. He dives in greedily.

You’re pretty sure you're howling as Namjoon makes out with your sex for the second time tonight. You’ve never met anyone who loves giving oral as much as Namjoon does, or anyone who is so good at it. His mouth and tongue continuously draw out more and more of your sweet nectar. He gulps it down like a man starved.

Namjoon can feel your thighs shaking again. He doesn’t want you to cum yet. He removes his mouth, and you are about to protest when you see his mouth and chin glistening with your arousal. Raising himself up till he is face to face to you, Namjoon replaces his mouth with his fingers. You gasp as he slides two fingers in smoothly, eased by your natural lubrication.

He kisses you as he fingers you. And your chest contracts at every movement his lips and tongue against yours. You can taste yourself, but you taste him too. Coffee, and something spicy. But there's more. You’ve hardly ever kissed during your sessions; a little peck here and there to say hello and goodbye, but never this kind of kiss when you’re both chasing pleasures, and never this.... passionate.

Namjoon pulls away, panting, breaking the kiss. He looks as affected as you are. “Unbutton your blouse.” He gruffly orders. The squelching sound his fingers in your wet hole fill the air. You undo the top three button of your top then he stops you. He can see the top of your breasts, and the light blue satin material supporting your globe is peeking out. “One more button.”

Namjoon feels weak. You, his sweet girl, are spread open before him like a goddamn buffet. He rests his head between your breasts, feeling your heartbeat on his skin, crazily in sync with his, while his fingers are wrapped tightly within your walls. He licks the top of your breast, just above the bra. Your skin breaks into goosebumps.

Namjoon inserts a third finger, and you squeal. He bites down and sucks on your skin as you clench tightly at the new intrusion. Your fingers find their way to his hair, tugging his strands as he continues to leave marks on your breast.

He pushes down the cups of your bra, freeing your breasts, then he sucks your nipples alternately. With every hard tug from his mouth, you close in sharply on his fingers.

“You feel so good, fuck. Why do you always feel so good?” He mumbles against your globes.

You’re rendered speechless. The assault of his fingers and his mouth on your body is deliciously sinful. “J- Jo... Mr Kim... please...” you beg. You want to cum. That’s all you want right now, to cum for Namjoon.

Namjoon returns to your core, wrapping his mouth around your needy clit, his tongue immediately goes into overdrive flicking it. He adds a fourth finger into you, and his free hand reaches to your nipple to continue tugging and pinching it. You throw your head back, your hands pressing Namjoon’s head tighter onto your weeping sex, and soon your body convulses, your second orgasm hitting you like a truck.

Namjoon lets go of your clit and your nipple, but his four fingers are still pumping into you, albeit at a slower pace. He kisses you again, his body pressing you deeper into your sofa. “Sweet, so sweet,” he says between kisses, “my little one.”

There it is again, the squeeze around your heart. You break the kiss, in need for air, and Namjoon rests his forehand on yours. Slowly, he pulls his fingers out and licks his thumb and ring finger. His pointer and middle finger, he offers them to you.

Eagerly, you part your lips and suck his fingers in. Swirling your tongue around them, you close your eyes as you savour your own taste. Namjoon stands up, taking you along with him. He smiles at your state of undress.

“Bedroom?” You offer, tucking your breasts back into your bra. You leave your top unbuttoned. Namjoon nods.

Once inside your room, you sit on the edge of the bed, Namjoon standing before you between your legs. He strokes your hair tenderly as you work his belt and his slacks, then his boxers.

His long, heavy cock greets you. “May I, Mr Kim?”

“Of course, little one.” At his permission, you kiss the little slit at the tip, sucking the precum off. Then you run your tongue up and down his shaft, before you close your lips around the head to start taking him in.

Relaxing your jaws, you let his length slides deeper, until you feel the head meeting your throat. You whimper, and Namjoon rubs your cheek encouragingly. “Relax, little one, you can take it.”

Controlling your breathing, you push yourself to take the rest of him in, until your nose bumps his skin. Namjoon hisses above you, cursing and praising you at the same time. Wrapping your lips tighter, you pull out leisurely, before taking his hot throbbing member back in.

Namjoon watches you deep-throating him a few more times, enjoying your wet mouth, before he commands you to grab onto his hips. You follow him obediently, and he wraps your hair around his hand. “Ready, little one?” You nod. “Remember to pinch me if it gets too much.” You nod again, unable to speak as his cock still fills your mouth.

Without warning, he holds your head steady as he starts to fuck your mouth roughly. You close your eyes, focusing your throat and mouth to relax as his cock pistons furiously. As Namjoon moans above you, you close your eyes and tears start streaking down your cheek. Your saliva drools out with every thrust, your hands grip his hips more tightly. But you don’t pinch him.

Instead you open your eyes and look up at him. He moans as he stares down your face, his face scrunching up. “God, little one, your mouth is a sin.” You moan against his pulsing member. His hips are starting to stutter, and with a curse he pulls out suddenly.

Still holding your hair tightly, he frenziedly pumps himself. You open your mouth and stick your tongue out, ready to receive him. Crying out your name, his seed spurts out, painting your lower face.

Once empty, Namjoon leans over you, his head on your shoulder as he calms down. “Joon,” you drop your role-play act, “your sweater will get dirty.” You try to inch yourself away to avoid staining his clothes with his cum on your face.

“Mmmm, don’t care.” He mumbles. You chuckle and gently push him onto the bed. Opening his eyes, he watch you as you lick his cum off your lips. “So hot, you always look so hot with my cum on you.”

You see his flacid cock twitch slightly. “Is Mr Kim all de-stressed now?” you coo at him, playing with his hair.

“Not until I get to feel that sweet cunt, little one. Strip for me, make me hard again.”

You stand up, and seductively start to unbutton the rest of your blouse. Once it’s on the floor, you unclasp your bra and hook it around his neck to pull him closer to you for a kiss. He then mouths at your bare chest, but you tut at him. You help him take off his sweater and the shirt underneath, and you finally get to run your hands over his hard pecs. You drag your fingers over his skin, and he grabs your waist. Your skirt is the remaining article on your body. You pull it down, finally fully naked before Namjoon.

You take a step back, out of Namjoon’s hold. You glide your hands from your hips, up the sides of your body, then to cup your breasts. “You like what you see, Mr Kim?” Teasingly, you move your hands down your stomach, then back up around your bosom, to your neck, gathering up your hair, holding it at the top of your head.

Namjoon is hard again, from watching you feeling yourself up. Once his cock is standing at full attention, you step back to the space between his legs. “How do you want me to fuck you, little one?”

“Let me ride you, Mr Kim.”

Namjoon moves back to sit himself against the headboard. You crawl on the bed, towards him. Positioning yourself above him, he cups your pussy. “Hmm, still wet for me, little one.”

“Always, Mr Kim. Only you can make me this wet.” You’re shocked at your own sincerity. But it is true- lately he’s all you can think about.

Bracing yourself on his shoulders, you let him guide his cock into your hole. You sigh as he breaches you, his hands firm on your waist, helping you sinking further down on him. You wince as he bottoms out, he always feels so deep in you. “So full, Mr Kim.”

“I love stretching you little one,” he nuzzles against your neck. “Your tight pussy always takes my fat cock so well.”

You start grinding over him, rolling your hips around while you tighten your inner walls to massage his cock inside you. Satisfied with the groans you elicit from his mouth, you start to move up and down. Little bounces at first, and soon you become greedy. You work your thigh muscles to lift you higher, then to lose yourself down his length.

With every movement, your breasts jiggle right in front of Namjoon. The look on his face spurs you on. Picking up your pace, you ride him harder and faster. Your bedroom is soon filled with the sounds of your panting, Namjoon’s groans, and the slapping of your skin against his.

Namjoon can’t take his eyes off of you. His eyes keep darting from the gradually fucked out expression on your face, to your juicy tits jumping wildly before him, and to his cock slipping so smoothly in and out of you. He is drunk on your sight, your smell, your touch. How his cock is so slippery, coated by your mouthwatering extract. How you breathe his name as you chase your peak.

Namjoon hand slides up to your neck and he closes his fingers around you. Squeezing slightly, you gasp, losing your momentum, and Namjoon slams his hips upwards into you. Your eyes widened, your mouth letting out a silent scream. He pounds into you a few more times, each time harder than the previous one, and he releases your throat once he hears you sob.

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close and tightly to him. “Good girl, such a good girl for me, little one.” He praises you. “Such a good slut for me and my cock.” You mewl.

“I want to fuck you stupid. To ruin you.” Namjoon holds your waist again. His hips thrust upwards mercilessly into you. “To make you want no other cock but mine. I want you to cream for my cock and my cock only.”

You start to cry, he is hitting so deep within you, you’re sure he will split you in half. You grab onto his biceps, feeling the muscles tensing as he continues to pump into you.

“Miste- ohhh! Ooooh! Namjo...” you babble incoherently. The pleasure of being impaled is turning your mind into mush. “Clo.. ooh so close...”

Namjoon sucks your neck. “So am I. little one.” He moans pitifully. “Cum with me, ______, please.”

After only a few more thrusts, your body jerks as you reach your climax. You hug Namjoon as you convulses violently around him, sending him towards his orgasm too. He explodes inside you, shooting his cum deep into you.

Clinging to each other, your sweaty bodies sticky as your breathing slows down and the ringing in your ears disappear. You open your eyes, to find Namjoon’s still closed, and you cup his face tenderly. Exhausted, you nestle yourself in the crook of is neck. His hand lazily rubs little circles on your lower back.

You and Namjoon stay in that position, god knows how long. You’ve never cuddled like this before, this is a new level of intimacy foreign yet not unwelcome. You force yourself to pull out of his embrace, before it gets too far.

Plopping yourself to sit next to him, you break the silence. “That was amazing, Namjoon. The best s-”

“Let me stay the night.” Namjoon cuts you off. Your heart stops. "Let me be more than just a fuck and go.”

You gulp audibly. This is against your agreement, five months ago, when you and Namjoon entered into a mutually beneficial arrangement. No feelings, just sex. That was what you both agreed on. He was just to be a name on your list to call when you feel like it. How did it become more than that?

You tear up. You can’t help it. You can’t deny it felt different tonight.

Namjoon rubs his hands over his face. “I’m sorry, I should’ve kept my mouth shut.” He gets up from your bed. “I thought there was something. I thought I felt something. Obviously I was wrong. It was just my fantasy.”

Dejected, he starts to pick up his clothes. You jump out and stop him. “Joon,” you hug him, as tight as you can, unwilling to let him leave. “It was my fantasy too.”

Namjoon freezes at your confession. Tilting your face up, you look into his eyes. “Stay the night. Please.” you plead.

Dropping his clothes, he cups your ass, and he hoists you up. You automatically wrap your legs around him, your arms around his neck. Carrying you to your bathroom, he whispers, “My sweet little one. My one and only.”

You whisper back, “My Joonie. My love.”

Published 12012021

#thetruthuntoldnet #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts smut #namjoon smut #bts fan fiction #bts imagines #kim namjoon #namjoon x y/n #namjoon x oc #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #bts scenarios #big tiddie joon #buff joon #noonasinnetwork

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novelconcepts · 3 years

Note

24 and 10, just because I'm curious how these two could possibly be combined

confusing a handshake for a fist bump and lifting someone up out of excitement

She hasn’t seen Jamie in two years. Hard to believe that. Hard to imagine. Jamie was such a fixture of her life at Bly, such a steady lantern in the dark for all those months--late-night conversations, endless hands of cards dealt, what felt like half the Wingrave wine cellar drained dry between them--that Dani genuinely forgot what it was to not have Jamie in her world. Jamie, who had been there for a single summer, feeling like the sanest measure of her entire life.

And then Dani had moved on. Hadn’t had a choice. The job was for the summer, and Wingrave had decided to try his hand at fatherhood, of a kind. There was no place for an au pair any longer. And there were other roads, Dani sensed, calling her name.

She’d said goodbye, and it had hurt. Hannah, holding her close. Owen, sniffling back tears without apology. The kids, clutching her around the legs.

Jamie, extending a hand.

Jamie, who had so quickly become her best friend in all the world, extending a hand.

She’d bumped it stupidly, her fingers curled into a fist to keep from properly touching Jamie’s skin. It hadn’t been intentional, exactly, though some part of her--red-faced and replaying the moment on a loop in the cab--thinks it might have been safer to lean into the mistake. If she’d taken Jamie’s hand, given it a firm shake, she’s not sure what would have followed. Not sure she would have been able to keep her balance, with her thumb braced along the backs of Jamie’s knuckles, with Jamie’s palm smooth against her own.

Better to look stupid, she decided, in the long run. Anyway, their time together had lasted all of three months. Seasons come, seasons go, and Jamie would forget her soon enough. Surely.

It’s been two years. Two years, and Henry Wingrave--cleverer than he’d looked, sneaking booze into his teacup at an awkward interview--had somehow found her address. The letter was neatly printed, an invitation: Miles’ thirteenth birthday, back at the manor. He hadn’t asked for much. They all missed her.

They all.

She tells herself not to think about it on the flight over. Tells herself not to pick it apart, calling a cab. Tells herself, remembering with a stutter of mortification how her loose fist had jabbed Jamie’s outstretched fingers, they means very little. A kindness, she suspects. A polite phrasing. We all miss you, Miss Clayton, very much.

Do you? she wonders, wringing her hands, gazing out at the once-familiar landscape. Do you all miss me? All of you?

As if one doesn’t matter just a little more than the rest.

As if she hasn’t been dreaming of one member of that little family more than she’s comfortable with.

She hasn’t seen Jamie in two years, and she’s almost terrified to find out what might have happened to their too-easy, too-warm friendship in her absence. Jamie had not been an easy wall to crack open in the first place. She’d been tough and wiry at the start, with wary eyes and a short temper. Kind, yes, and easier to talk to than she’d had any right--but difficult, all the same. It had taken weeks for Dani to coax her into genuine conversation. A month before she’d believed Jamie truly did brighten, to see her coming through the door.

Two years. How tall could those walls have grown by now? How heavy might the door barring her from Jamie’s life be, with all those months of silence stretched between them?

Why didn’t you write? she imagines Jamie saying, her mouth curled in a grim smile. Didn’t even try, did you?

Not true, though Dani can’t fathom telling her so. Dani did try. Over and over, not just for those first few months, but for two years. Two years trying to put it all down on paper. Two years trying to explain how Jamie--her eyes gleaming in the firelight, her smile sweet, her hand brushing Dani’s without thought--had been the only person on her mind, no matter what she tried to do about it.

Two years trying to find the words for a letter to explain what she knows, and what she can’t believe, and what she can’t get away from: that it had taken only a single season, to fall in love. That it had taken only a single season to find someone she honestly can’t imagine life without.

Jamie wouldn’t understand.

Two years. And now she’s here, pulling up the winding drive to that big old house she’d called home for almost no time at all. She’s here, stepping out of the cab, feeling no older than the au pair who had run from grief and wound up finding a short-lived, powerful purpose.

They’re waiting for her, she realizes--lined up outside the house like Flora’s dolls. Hannah, as beautiful as she remembers, with a brand new ring on her third finger. Owen, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, his apron dusted with flour. Flora, almost willowy with newfound height, launching at her, and Miles, broader in the shoulders, brighter in the eyes, reaching to kiss her hand.

Henry, too, looks pleased to see her. He looks healthy, his skin no longer the sallow of a man hidden away from the world. He smiles, and he presses her into a loose embrace, and she thinks it was worth going away, if this little family was able to bloom in her absence.

They’re all here. They’re all wonderful.

Except.

She doesn’t ask where Jamie is. Tries her damnedest not to let them see the crestfallen expression she turns inward, the plummet of her heart. Jamie isn’t here. Jamie has, perhaps, moved on, too--found a new job, a new life, elsewhere.

Jamie is gone, and no matter how wonderful the rest of them are--no matter how glad to see them she is--this will never feel quite right.

“You’re just in time,” Hannah is saying. “Supper’s about ready, we’re just going to set the table. If you wouldn’t mind doing one thing?”

Pasting a smile onto her face, Dani nods. “Anything. Point the way.”

“You remember the greenhouse, I assume?”

A flutter, kicking up in her chest, hard enough to rattle her voice when she says, guardedly, “Of course.”

“Our last party is working late,” Hannah says, sounding slightly grumpy. “Again. Honestly, you’d think she’s growing the key to immortality out there, with the hours she’s been keeping.”

“She--” Dani swallows. Keep it simple. Keep it normal. It’s been two years. “She’s still...?”

“Grouchy?” Owen suggests. “Stealing my best biscuits?”

“Here,” Dani breathes. He looks perplexed, his head inclined in affirmation.

“Of course. Couldn’t pry her from those roses, the stubborn woman.”

They say it like it’s obvious, like the story was only ever going to play out this way--but even as she’s striding across the grounds at a brisk pace, Dani isn’t sure she believes it. Could it be a prank? An elaborate way to get back at her for leaving? Maybe she’ll reach the greenhouse, place her hand on the door, and find the place gaping open with nothing but ghosts for company--

Jamie’s back is to her, the gray of her coveralls stamped with dirt. Her hair is loose, her head bobbing, and Dani--her steps cautious as she confirms, yes, this is the same woman who has been turning up in her dreams for months--realizes she’s wearing a pair of headphones. Her hands are steady, though her boot taps out a rhythm, and when Dani gets close enough, she picks up the hum of Jamie singing under her breath.

Jamie, no different than she recalls. Jamie, exactly the same, bopping along to the Walkman poking out of her pocket.

Jamie, who turns and leaps with surprise, jerking the headphones down around her neck.

“Christ,” she breathes. “Scared the living shite out of me.”

“Sorry.” She isn’t, though. Somehow. Maybe because Jamie’s bewildered expression is already giving way to a huge smile. Maybe because Dani suddenly can’t breathe, overwhelmed by the memories of this very room--cards and conversation, wine and laughter. Jamie’s hand, brushing her own. Jamie’s eyes, searching her face.

Jamie, never quite closing the gap. Never quite daring.

“You weren’t meant to be here until six,” Jamie is saying now, brushing the hair from her eyes. Dani glances at her watch.

“It’s six-thirty-nine.”

“Fuck,” Jamie mutters. “Lost track of--was supposed to help in the--never mind.”

She’s staring at Dani like she can’t quite believe her own eyes, her smile so enormous, Dani can’t imagine how she’d ever thought Jamie could be gone. Jamie, who is such a fixture. Jamie, who is so reliable, so wonderfully here.

“Can I hug you?” she asks, and Jamie all but charges toward her. It’s a clumsy embrace, arms tangling around shoulders, Jamie’s hips bumping her own. Jamie, who hugs her so hard, leaning back, Dani’s feet actually leave the ground.

“Missed you,” she breathes into Dani’s ear. “Wanted to write. Wanted to--didn’t know what I’d fuckin’ say.”

Dani buries her face in Jamie’s neck, inhaling the long-missed combination of soil and sweat, that undercurrent of mint that follows every cigarette. It’s not a polished, pretty scent; it reminds her of summer afternoons, of hard work, of Jamie’s smile flashing over a glass of water.

It reminds her of the heat in her fingertips, the urge to catch Jamie by the sleeve and pull her close, the reflexive lean of her body into Jamie’s on the couch as they both teetered toward dozing off.

“We’re supposed to be at dinner,” she says, relishing the slide of Jamie’s skin against her own. “We’re late.”

“M’always late, these days,” Jamie replies. “Think it’s worth it this time.”

“Can we--” Dani swallows. “Not now, I know we’re supposed to--for Miles. But after? Tonight? Can we talk?”

I can’t walk away again, she thinks. I can’t go another two years without this. I can’t put it in a letter, but I can’t let it go, either. Not without knowing.

Jamie can’t read her mind, she’s sure--and yet, Jamie’s hand cupping her cheek, Jamie’s thumb pulling gently across her skin, seems to find everything in the silence. Jamie nods once, letting her hand fall away.

“Think I’d like that very much, yeah.”

It takes every ounce of self-control, not to hold her hand all the way back to the house.

#fanfiction #ficlet #the haunting of bly manor #dani x jamie #damie #physical affection tag

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