#the most intimate characters get are the moments they are willing to give up their position of storyteller in order to just Be

[naivety]

in my black sails rewatch, i was tempted to say i was noticing a pattern of two kinds of characters in it, but as i continue to watch i think there are mainly three. three, but two of them take up the most room, and they are the storytellers, and the characters in the story they're telling. the third is the audience, and it's the place we see the most intimacy in. it is a role associated with being an audience to a truth, not a story. it's bearing witness to someone once they trust you with their truth in place of whatever story they tell for everyone else.

when silver first meets flint, he clocks him as our main storyteller right away but it's not until he directly cues flint he can see straight through it that flint pays him any attention at all. silver doesn't see his storyteller status because he's a character becoming self aware, like gates, or even billy, or because he yet loves flint enough to be his true audience, like miranda, but because silver's a storyteller too. gates is too smart not to be aware he's in a story, but he can't quite breach the containment of character into storyteller. they have just enough awareness to judge the story, but not to escape it, while someone like miranda, who plays the role of audience, sees through the narrative enough not to judge it, but to love it. for it's honest truth alone, not for it's ability to tell a compelling story. she loves it enough to want to live it, not tell it. she loves flint the man, not the storyteller, and yet he is a storyteller, and so she loves him too much to end it either. almost, when flint is willing to cede his storyteller status himself, for her, who he loves in return. however brief it lasted, almost.

after flint kills gates, he starts becoming too self aware to continue, he becomes aware that he too is a character in it and he's the villain. he becomes aware of the story and so it must come to an end, as stories eventually must from the audience's perspective. for the audience, there is no way out for a character like him, and he's too aware of which character he is. in the moment he kills gates, he becomes him; sees the story being told and his role in it, and that it's a story he doesn't want to be a part of, not in that role. there's no way out for that role. little does he know, it remains true even after he rescinds the awareness to become storyteller again. there's no way out for him anymore, not in that state. then silver walks in. and he sees not flint's story but flint's truth, crying over a man he just killed because he hates his character, hates being that character, and silver reacts not like another character, not like the audience, but like a storyteller too. he offers him the way out, and the next we see flint, he is walking back out on deck, and he is telling a story again.

i didn't even see the significance of this kinship on my first watch, how even a match it is, and how not just important that moment was for the story, of course, but how intimate for both silver and flint. it's the first scene that establishes their equality in the narrative to each other. fellow storytellers now telling a joint story, and because of it, it starts to become a story only both of them together can tell. if one loses the other in the finale of season one or the premiere of season two, the story would end. they need each other because they are equals, both refusing to let their story end against all odds.

which is why i also believe flint genuinely lost silver's respect after he lost his leg! silver's decision to protect the men had nothing to do with telling a story, he was subject to one. he wanted to be a part of the crew and that story, he wanted to live it, and the crew are just characters to flint. for a moment, he let someone else write his story. silver, as we later find out, lives life uninterested in joining stories, but telling different ones of his own, one after the other. until flint's crew. until flint! flint had him there too. he wants to be a part of that story because it's the first time in maybe forever he's felt like he could be a part of something, not just see the parts and create more favorable shapes to survive in. he is a storyteller by necessity, not an artist. it's just as likely flint loses respect for silver after the season two finale because he suspects silver backed out of their joint narrative to start telling a different one, one in which flint is just another character to right off and no longer an equal to write with. either way, it's not until silver rescinds that threat and flint believes in silver's desire to keep writing a story with him that they see eye to eye again.

it's not until they genuinely care about each other that flint lets silver see the truth of him, not just his story, and it shifts their balance of power immediately. flint gives up his storyteller position for silver and silver alone, to tell him about thomas. it is no story, it is just the truth only miranda had ever born witness to, and he tells it to him! and silver can't do the same in return. he can't be an even match to that, he can't be an equal to it. whatever his truth is, he can't tell it. he offered himself as flint's audience and flint accepted the vulnerability and offered to be silver's audience in return, but in silver's own words, there is no story to tell. the narrative falls apart for him as soon as he tries to make enough sense of it to speak out loud to someone. he can't speak of it without giving up the position of power as storyteller. he refuses flint that intimacy of stepping out of the story with him, he refuses it even to madi. the closest intimacy he can offer is to write a story in which he can pretend he's just a character in it existing alongside them. a character who loves them.

by the end of the show, silver must pretend he is more like gates and less like miranda in order to end the story. gates was at one point one of the biggest threats to flint's narrative throughout because his self awareness as a character in a story he didn't like threatened the story being told at all. the self awareness of being a character threatens to kill the story altogether, just as the self awareness of being an audience threatens to end a story for the sake of letting truth be a fact, not something to convince everyone else of, which is why both gates and miranda are killed for the story to continue. you need the mutual agreement to suspend your belief, and gates' struggle is that he couldn't make peace with that and still be in the story which is why it becomes his end, just as miranda loved the storyteller too much to not either be its end or be ended by it herself. silver, on the other hand, as a storyteller himself, knows how to be both. furthermore, he loves flint enough to try. especially if he thinks it will save madi's life. as much as flint changes to him throughout the show, he can't give up his storyteller position either, not even to just live it. so silver tells one final story, and it's the last chapter of flint's. he ends it and himself as the author, and becomes a character he is himself constantly in the process of writing. a character to himself. he becomes all three; storyteller, character, and audience. but then again, isn't that what he always was from the start?

[rosesanddecay]

Oscar Isaac Characters Eating You Out

Minors DNI

Featured Characters: Miguel O’Hara, Moon Knight System, Basil Stitt, Anselm Vogelweide, Blue Jones, Poe Dameron, Nathan Bateman, Duke Leto Atreides, Prince John, Santiago “Pope” Garcia x afab!reader (Pronouns and descriptions aren’t used for the reader)

CW: SMUT (did you look at the title?), pet names, slight size difference, fingering, face riding, mention of periods, slapping, toys, anal, dub-con, sub and dom roles, squirting, overstim/crying, untranslated Spanish, and possibly some other things (All are just brief mentions)

These are just some short, dumb little rambles/headcannons of mine, so it’s not written the best. Not proofread or heavily edited.

(Lmk if you want more in the future)

Miguel O’Hara - Across the Spiderverse

Miguel is a tired man, always overworking himself with the Spider Society. All because he’s extremely thorough, never leaving something to be completed at a later date. Because of this, it’s not often he gets the chance to destress.

So, when it comes time to pleasure, he’s just as thorough. Miguel makes sure you feel just as much pleasure as he does.

Of course, because of his lack of free time, Miguel doesn’t care where or when it happens, he’s eating you out.

You’re in his office? Bend over.

You’re on your period? I guess he’s not beating the vampire allegations.

Pick a time or a place, he’s there, willing to thoroughly please you in whatever way he can.

Miguel is on his knees with your legs over his shoulders. His claws gently pricking at the soft of your thighs as he holds you still.

If you squirm too much, he is glaring at you from overtop your heat, pinning you in place with one of his massive hands.

His tongue runs laps in your cunt, teasing your clit and slurping you up. He’s eating you like a starved man, letting out small growls every now and again.

Miguel will refuse to touch himself until you’ve climaxed multiple times. He has the stamina to keep going for hours, and this is just a warm up for him. Besides, he’d rather see either of your pretty lips wrapped around his length over his hand.

When you’re a trembling, sopping mess underneath him, he’ll finally stop. His lower face is shiny as he licks his lips and hungrily smirks at you.

“Don’t think this is over, mi amor. This is just the beginning…”

Marc Spector / Steven Grant / Jake Lockley - Moon Knight

Marc wants you to feel as much pleasure as possible, because while he denies it, a part of him is a people pleaser. He always puts his partners above himself, including during intimate moments.

Marc is experienced and he will take the time to know what you like. Marc practically memorizes your body and what gets you riled up. But if he has the choice, he has you on your knees as he eats you out from behind.

Marc has you bent over as his tongue hits that perfect spot, causing you to tremble and moan in pleasure.

He loves seeing you grasp the sheets as you bury your face in your pillow, to him it’s a sign of validation, evidence that he’s making you feel good.

His hands grab at your thighs and ass as he goes to town. If he feels you try to pull away, he’ll swat your rear until you stay still.

When his mouth starts to ache, Marc will pull up and insert his fingers instead. He’ll move them in the way that has your toes curling and has muffled screams coming from your pillow.

Of course though, he finishes the job with his mouth back on you, drinking up every ounce you give him. He’ll lick his lips clean and kiss your cunt in praise.

“You did so good for me, darling…”

Steven is the most insecure of the boys. He never had the chance to date before, so he’s always worried about making you feel good. He especially worries when he hears how Marc talks about your guys' time together. Steven wants to make you feel just as good.

But Steven isn’t as affirmative as Marc or Jake.

Steven will keep you on your back, his hands feeling his favorite parts of your body. He loves to caress you.

Steven likes to be thorough but also to go slow. He wants you to feel every little moment he makes.

His tongue hits the spots you love, but it’s methodical, careful.

Steven pleasures you as though you could fall apart if he were to be too rough. But if you grind your hips or grab his hair, he’ll go a bit faster.

He lets you have control, his goal is to make you feel good, so why wouldn’t he listen to you?

Despite being focused on you, Steven won’t hesitate to make himself feel good too. Whether it’s with his hand or just humping at the mattress in front of him.

He definitely gets pussy drunk, babbling as dines on you.

“So pretty… so pretty…”

Jake, on the other hand, prefers to be a bit risky.

As much as he loves private moments with you (like the other boys), the thrill of getting caught makes it more exciting for him.

He’ll absolutely eat you out in his car or in an empty alleyway. All because you dressed up pretty for him or gave him that perfect smile of yours.

Jake likes to be quick but efficient with you, at least in public.

Jake sinks to his knees and pushes you against the brick wall. His hand stays on your stomach, making sure you don’t scramble from his grasp.

He’d start slow, intentionally making you panic about getting caught, but as he gets quicker, you become a moaning mess above him.

Jake will smirk as he makes quick work of you, making you finish quicker than you thought possible.

“Tan perfecta/o, mi vida… tan perfecta/o para mí…”

All of them love you so much, so sometimes after a hard day, they’ll each take turns making you feel good.

Steven most likely starts, being that he’s the most gentle. He’s a good warm up and he’s good for calming down without actually stopping. But with the other guys there too, he definitely is being a bit more aggressive to keep up.

Marc and Jake will take their turns, teasing and riling you up. Just between those two alone, your position is constantly changing, there’s no chance you’re getting sore from being stuck in one place.

Each of the boys will make sure you feel good, prioritizing you above all else. They even monitor each other through the many mirrors littered throughout the apartment. They just want their darling to feel good <3

Each will take their time, only stopping when you’re an overstimulated, crying mess.

Soft kisses and cuddling definitely ensue afterwards.

“Our beautiful darling…”

Basil Stitt - Lightningface

Basil, the pathetic, desperate, possessive loner. He will do anything for your attention. He will follow your every order. You don’t even have to touch him, he’ll cum just from eating you out. He loves you that much.

Basil is aggressive as he eats you out, desperate to make you finish. Because if you finish, you’ll stay, despite his scars.

He moans and whimpers more than you do as you pull him deeper into your cunt. His hands grapple at every curve of your body, desperate to make sure you’re real, that you want him.

Why would anyone want a monster like him? Even his own girlfriend cheated on him before his accident happened.

As he tastes you, he desperately chases your climax.

He needs you to feel good. He needs you.

When your legs tense around his head and you start praising him, he starts crying and finishes as well, his seed staining the floor below him.

His head falls against your inner thigh as his tears fall fast. He grabs at you harshly, his fear causing his chest to ache.

“Imsosorry… staywithmeplease…”

Anselm Vogelweide - Big Gold Brick

Anselm is a weirdo, a big horny weirdo, let’s get that out of the way.

Anselm will touch you and do whatever he wants whenever he wants. This kinky switch of a man will eat you out in any way possible, and it’s never simple.

Per his request, he lies tied up with you over him. His arms are completely restrained as he lets you control the situation.

Your glittering heat flutters as he blows on you, smirking at every little reaction you have. He loves your noises, especially when you’re loud.

Eventually you sit on his face, and groaning happily, he licks up into you.

Your hips rock back and forth on his face, his nose hitting your throbbing clit harshly. You’re breathing heavily as Anselm eats you up, his beard scratching the back of your legs as your hips move.

Despite being such an odd man, he absolutely knows what he’s doing, like— he’s extremely talented with his tongue alone. With every squirm and noise you make, he’s watching you like a hawk.

Your high builds and comes crashing down quickly. But when you start to move off, he harshly demands you get back.

“We aren’t done yet, doll. If you don’t get back on, I’ll kill myself.”

Blue Jones - Sucker Punch

Blue doesn’t eat you out for your pleasure, no- it’s to prove a point.

He owns you, just like he owns all the people working for his club. And because he owns you, he has to make sure you know how good only he can make you.

You were in the dressing room when he approached you, his eyes hungrily scanning your body.

Whether out of fear or attraction, you do everything he asks. So when he asks you to strip bare, you do exactly that.

With his head between your thighs, it’s hard to remember that this man could kill you without a second thought. He’s just too talented with his tongue.

Running a club has its perks, including having lots of practice in making others feel good. With all this practice, this man will do anything to make you squirt. He sees it as a sign of victory, that his toy likes him the best.

Your back is arching as Blue hits your sweet spot. Your hips lightly hump his face and nose, chasing your high. His hands grip your legs, letting you ride his face more and more.

You squirt all over his face, causing him to hum in approval.

When you finish, he licks a stripe through your arousal. Blue’s eyes meet yours.

“Bunny, do you act like such a desperate whore with all the clients?”

Poe Dameron - Star Wars

Lover of the sky, Poe is known for being quite flirty. With the constant travel, Poe has had his share of hookups and romantic partners.

Which is why, of course, Poe would do anything to make you feel as much pleasure as possible.

He’s cocky, sure, but when he brags about how loud he makes you scream, you know it’s the truth.

After a long day of travel, Poe is clinging to your cunt.

As his tongue runs laps through your folds, you tightly grip at his curls.

He’s already made you finish at least twice, and he’s desperate for another.

Your cunt is trembling from overstimulation, broken moans escaping your lips as you lazily try to pull him away.

With every faint tug of his hair, he pulls your body closer towards his mouth, not letting you escape.

His tongue circles your clit like a dehydrated man, wanting you to release and give every drop of yourself to him again and again.

When Poe gets you to release over his tongue once more, he doesn’t back off, speaking as he licks every drop.

“Just one more… Can you handle one more for me, baby?”

Nathan Bateman - Ex Machina

Nathan doesn’t eat you out normally, he much prefers using his fingers if he has to.

This man prefers making himself feel good above all else, he only tolerates making you feel good. Which is why he always makes you finish quickly or sometimes not at all, moving on to make sure he can get his pleasure from this exchange.

The only time he has eaten you out was when he walked in on you having a wet dream, mumbling his name as your legs spread under the blankets.

You wake up moaning loudly, Nathan tucked between your thighs, mouth to your aching core.

As he hits your sweet spot, you instinctively grab his head. His buzzed hair provides nothing to grip to as your hips sleepily grinds his face.

Everything feels extra sensitive and good, the lack of previous priority making you extra needy.

His beard provides a scratchy and satisfying feeling as his tongue laps up your soaked folds.

He doesn’t even acknowledge that you’ve awoken, now on a mission to make you finish on his mouth.

His hands grope at your waist and ass, gripping at all the soft flesh he can.

When you finish with trembling legs, he lifts his head, his beard glistening in your juices. His hand palms over his cock as he sits on his knees and stares down at you.

“Get up. It’s my turn.”

Duke Leto Atreides - Dune

Leto is a very busy man, but he does worship you when he gets the chance.

Constantly being needed by everyone, it feels nice to relax and give himself to the one person he wants to: you.

Sure, sometimes you’re under the table servicing him, but it’s not often he gets the chance to do the same for you.

He’s on his knees, worshiping your pussy like it is a divine god. Leto is praying to you with his tongue.

Leto is so focused on you, he can’t even acknowledge his own pleasure before he knows you’ve had some release.

He has to give his baby some extra care while he has the chance <3

His hands touch every inch that he can, worshiping all of you that he can.

Leto’s nose bumps your clit as he watches you like prey, he just loves your blissed out expression.

When you two make eye contact, he makes his assault that much more pleasurable. Whether that’s adding in his fingers or reaching deep into you with his tongue. Man loves his eye contact.

When you climax, he’s smiling and peppering kisses over your inner thighs.

“I still have time, shall we go for another?”

Prince John - Robin Hood (2010)

John is a man of pleasure, and he will devour you as long as he gets some in return. Just… never mention your ex or past relationships, he gets jealous.

He loves different positions and experimenting with you, as long as you’re both having fun or a good time, then he’s more than happy.

John, the whiny man, is begging into your cunt as you two eat each other up.

Your mouth is wrapped around his length as he laps up your warmth.

With each stroke of your tongue, he moves his in tandem. Every moan you gain from him, wonderfully rumbles your pussy.

His hands grasp and pull your ass cheeks, kneading the soft flesh.

John eats you like a starved man, because despite his regal status, you are by far the best meal he’s eaten.

At least that’s what he’d be saying if it weren’t the end to your guys night of pleasure, and John didn’t need an heir.

He probably isn’t the most thrilled to be eating his and your cum out of your pussy, but it's you, so he can’t complain.

Together, you finish and clean each other of every last drop, leaving both of you exhausted.

John pats his shoulder.

“Come, rest your head.”

Santiago “Pope” Garcia - Triple Frontier

Santiago loves to tease you. No matter the situation or place, he will edge you until you’re crying.

He likes seeing you as a whimpering mess, begging for some relief.

You were just on the cusp of finishing when Santiago pulled away, watching as you begged him to let you cum.

He’d chuckle and hold your hands hostage, not letting you get the chance to finish what he started.

As you start to come down from your high, he’d go back in, licking and eating your cunt out.

As you squirm, chasing your release, he’d cage your legs in place with his arms and hands. You’re not allowed to escape him or his constant teasing.

When he finally lets you finish, you’re a trembling mess, your hole clutching at his tongue as he eats every last drop.

“You’re so cute like this… maybe I should go again?”

—————————————————

Thanks for reading!

Lmk if you want me to add more of his characters or do a different set of characters (like Genshin men for ex.)

[ooogaboogabeepbop]

The Ball

(Image is NOT mine, it’s from Kate Kotova’s YouTube Community.)

Astarion x F!reader

Word count: A LOOOTTT

First time writing so please give any constructive criticism. Tell me if Astarion is out of character or whatnot. Here I wanted him to be pretty frustrated so he’s rougher than usual. PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS.

Summary: You were getting ready for a ball until Astarion randomly fucks you into oblivion.

Warnings: use of gross words, cervix fucking, VERY rough sex, extreme discomfort, neediness, blood, ruined makeup, anger, cnc, pain, tears, ripping of clothing, weird inconsistent pov, scent, breeding kink, cringe writing, past trauma, voyerism, harsh choking, lots of eye rolling, short sentences, regret

——————-

The edge of the drawer dug into your ribs harshly and the pain was becoming intolerable. Your palms flat against the waxed wood, pushing against the weight behind you. You winced when the figure behind pressed harder into you, being far from comfortable. It was like talking to a brick wall when you opened your mouth to speak. He was stuck in a deep trance involving your scent, and the unsteady beating of your heart. All he could hear was the hammering of the pulse and you smelled and looked absolutely amazing. Beyond amazing. Astounding. The way your dress fitted you perfectly. Breasts threaten to burst out of the dress, almost overflowing from the top. Your cleavage being the most prominent part of your whole get up, other than the accessories. The dress was white with laces on the rim surrounding your breasts, and on the end of your clothing as well. The outfit shimmered and was made to stand out from the others in the ball. The jewelry was what really stole the show though, dangle earrings, waist chain over the fancy fabric, bracelet, and a pearled necklace. You were adorned head to toe, your beauty would stun the crowd. Yet Astarion has you here, secured in his grip. It’s like he didn’t want anyone to see you in such a glamorous outfit. Someone could steal you away. It has been a while since Astarion initiated such intimate touching. With his view on sex tainted, you withheld from being inappropriate in any way. Worried about scaring him away, or reminding him of anything unpleasant. You stuck to loving words and affections that he so eagerly accepted and appreciated. The man was madly in love, and you, yourself. You showered him in so much care that it perplexed him. He only imagined or dreamed of being looked out for during years of hell, and never thought that it would actually come to fruition.

His nose and lips firmly pressed against your neck, providing soft kisses here and there. Cold breath sends shivers through your body. It was like a chilly winter breeze, making your hair stand. The kisses were sloppy, leaving small trails of saliva up and down your throat. You had an expensive perfume on, a bitter flavor to the tongue that he did not seem to mind. Too engrossed in this moment to care, wanting to feel and taste more. Maybe he liked the combination of the perfume and the flavor of your skin. Grabbing the arm that was locked around your waist, you squeeze, giving him a small warning to stop. The ball had already started, he promised to take you out dancing and flaunt your beauty to everyone there and show that you were his. It appears he regretted this decision. You were excited to sway and spin, to be close to him and your companions. You longed to see the others and the others wanted to see you too. You wanted to see the lights and the decorations. To see just how fancy the place was.

“I want to greet everyone.” You say, with his arms still locked around you. You tried excusing yourself to not remind him of ugly recollections. Trying not to have him cringe in disgust at any possible moment. Even with all of his confessions, he still held 200 years of secrets and uncomfortable experience that he was not willing to share. His coldness migrated behind your ear, hearing his sharp inhale. Very touchy this evening. What has him so worked up? Was he okay?

“They will see you soon enough, my love. Be patient.” He assured whilst rubbing his face against you, groaning, trying to lock in all of your musk mixed with perfume. He was ravenous. Mouth agape. A strong hand traced your left arm all the way up to your shoulder, and flipped the few wisps of your hair to the other side. Kisses now traced your jaw. Lips dry and chapped, moisture gone from the smooches. You could see the white curls come into view. Body flush against yours like a mold. Pale hands gripping your waist harshly and angling them to have the curve of your ass on his groin. “You look like an absolute treat tonight.” You could feel how each roughened finger dug deep to the point of almost hurting. Oh how you loved this. You missed his touch. Whether it be soft or hard, you still managed to enjoy yourself. Every movement made warmth course through you. Unexpectedly, he pricked your skin with one singular fang and licked the sweet red bead that came out with a sigh. Driving him crazy. Cool tongue teasing the sharp pain.

You grabbed the curls and ripped his lips off you.

“How about you be patient?” Your grip was firm, hurting his sensitive scalp. He hissed and even dared to flashed his fangs at you.

“You are hurting me.” You say bitterly. He presses less of his weight against you, letting you finally breathe better. But still being sandwiched between him and the drawer caused a sting.

“Still hurting me…”

He reluctantly pulls back, not much, but enough to keep the edge of the drawer from biting at your skin.

“I am starving—“ Words nothing but a whisper.

“I can tell.”

“Well be a dear, and give me just one bite?” He asked with honeyed words and puppy eyes.

“It’s never just one bite with you, Star.”

His hands roamed your body through your white dress, pawing at your breast, then down in between your thighs. The dress being an annoying obstacle.

“Oh how I missed you.” He sighs. You giggle at his words while you twirl a strand in your finger. It has not been long at all. He was quite literally in the other room while you did your makeup. And before that, both of you organized and planned your outfits for the day of the party together. You look over your shoulder with a smirk and a raised brow.

“Star, I was simply getting ready for the ball. I won’t take much longer.” You take a glimpse at his attire. All white, matching yours. The turtle neck, the colors, the swirls and patterns of his suit were all beautiful. Just like him. The shoulder pads that pronounced his shoulders. And his broad chest. You wanted to run your hands up and down his muscular figure but he firmly held you locked in place. He leaned into you again, though not as hard as before, your back arching to accommodate his body. Grinding on your bum. Noticing just how steel hard he was, your knees shook and your heels almost gave out.

“One bite? It won’t take long, love.” The man was hungry despite being fed the day before.

“Yes.” He immediately dives in and pierces your jugular. Fangs cause a sharp sting that makes you flinch. He will feed, then the two of you can finally go to the ball. Not wanting to suck you dry, he took shallow gulps. A moan rumbled from his chest and it vibrated through you. Astarion looked so hot with his composure uncharacteristically broken. The blood dribbling from the puncture being the sweetest he's ever savored. It was like some form of drug. Astarion’s favorite medicine. Faint whines of his satisfaction adding to the wetness below. You could see his brows knit together in concentration from the corner of your eye. Savoring you. He continued to rub your cunt through your dress while your hips circled to increase the pace that was set. He was too distracted to notice the teasingly slow speed of his fingers. Or maybe not. Perhaps he was deliberately trying to drive you insane. The friction of your panties and dress mixed with his talented digits made your clit throb. Your hand pushed his down, trying to create more traction to satisfy your need. Your hips still managed to gyrate even under his hold, rubbing right up on his erection. You moved faster against him, earning a whine from your vampire's throat. The hard rod pressed to your bum had you yearning for more. He kept moaning. Large pale hands traveled up to the very start of your dress and roughly pulled down, ripping the clothing and bra with it. The initial sound of the rippage filling the room with its sheer force. You shrieked as your tits suddenly jumped out of its confinements. Bouncing from its vicious release. Soft and supple skin, round and pretty nipples. Your outfit is in complete tatters.

“Astarion!” You shouted. Visibly upset. Such a beautiful dress put to waste. You waited months for this dress to be tailored, for its patterns and shimmers to be suited into it. So happy to try it on, so happy the way it hugged your curves when you got your hands on it. You attempted to turn to scold the ever living shit out of him but he held you in place with his strength. “Ugh!” You leered down at the irreversible mess and felt your face grow hot with rage. Then you looked into the mirror at the sight. Your nipples out in the open. How you wished to see him behind you, to see the dark and lustful red eyes looking deep into yours. What's gotten him so wild? Shifting his gaze towards your tits through the mirror, he moaned at the view of you. Quickly moving his palms onto your plump flesh; his big hands dwarfing both mounds. Astarion squeezed and played to his heart's desire and all you did was watch. Pliant skin caving and yielding. You were angry, livid, exasperated but… when was the last time he’s sought you out to touch you so sensually? When was the last time he felt okay with pleasure? You would put your anger aside, albeit begrudgingly, for this rare occasion. You were gonna give him hell afterwards though. Have him pay for the dress AGAIN and some complaining. It felt amazing, having him play, grope, and gently dig his fingers in. Savoring you. Passionately massaging them. You were upset. So upset. But you loved the touch. He was disorganized and chaotic which was so uncommon of him. Eventually, once you’ve calmed, your hands combine with his large ones, joining in on the fun. Then you realized something. The door to the room was open. Your head swirled to its direction and you were able to hear the distant chatter. Terror took a hold of you.

“Star. Stop. They will see.” Your concerns meant nothing to him though even when you pushed. He was too lost in you to even care. A huff was his only response. His fangs soon left you and he raised his head to nip at your ear. The blood from the wound seeped into your pearled necklace.

“I am being serious.” He grabbed your face, the skin indenting in his strong grip, and turned it enough to give you a searing kiss. The smooch was slippery from the gloss and the lipstick stained him, mixing with the blood he took from you. You sighed at the way his lips pressed upon yours. He parted his lips and snaked his tongue in your mouth, drawing an obscene moan as you unhinged your jaw for him. The blend of lipstick, gloss, blood, and the perfume he kissed off was rather tart. You opened your eyes and looked into the mirror. You looked so lewd. Both of you panted into the kiss. His left hand still played with your breast. His right hand grabbed yours and placed it flat against the wood, fingers interlocking. Astarion abandoned your mouth and licked long strides up your neck, cleaning the remaining blood then proceeded to give more pecks to it.

“What is this all about, Star?”

“I simply crave you little love. Is that so bad?”

“You ruined my dress. It was so glamorous…I waited months for this you damned bastard.”

“I’ll have another one made, my treasure.” He did not seem phased by your anger. The glam clothing was being pulled and balled up, enough to show your plush thighs. Wearing stockings and lingerie underneath. You half expected to fuck, just not so early.

“My, my. What’s this all about, dear?” He repeated your question from earlier as nimble fingers ran along the stockings. You blushed deeply at his words. Hands fixed on your butt. Delicately rubbing.

“Astarion, the door. Least close the door.” He pushed your face against the drawer, and raised the rest of your dress, showing your pretty ass. The fabric laid right above your hips. He slapped it hard. Another one came after that with full force. The sting was so intense tears began to form. No, you were not going to cry with how much effort you put into your makeup. He grumbled at your request.

“Not a chance. Where else will I get my warmth from? Karlach? Lae’zel?” He tsked. Red marks adorned your bum now from the manhandling. Blood rushing and heating the stinging flesh.

The warmth radiating onto his icy palms pleased him as it made a nice contrast. “You know, It gets quite cold being undead, darling.” Pouting as he feigned sadness.

“I will still be here once you come back. It's just mere feets away! Plus I'm sure Karlach wouldn't mind sharing her never ending heat.”

“Ah, but that would be no fun. Truthfully, the possible thrill of being caught excites me to no end…and I believe it does the very same to you too, darling.” He said, slipping the panties to the side to expose you. “I can tell just by your heartbeat.” He murmured. You purred when his rough thumb slithered up and down your wet slit. You sway your waist to taunt his desire. Without warning, he soon rooted two digits deep inside to prepare you to fuck hard. The sudden intrusion caused you to bite your lip. He grazed and memorized each ridge of your soggy cunt, especially the spongy part. You grinded in tandem to his fingers but it wasn’t enough.

“Then please, hurry up.” you whimper. He hummed.

“Since you asked nicely.” He caressed the bud halfheartedly. Swiftly he lost interest then pulled his fingers out. You could hear the belt buckle and his pants unfasten.

He slid all the way into your gummy walls with a loud hiss. You felt incredibly full, so stretched out and already worn from his dick. Cunt squeezing and contracting, trying to adjust to the fullness. You were so overwhelmed that it made you dizzy. Your pussy ravenously swallowed his thick dick which was not helping with your lightheadedness. The tip of his cock snuggling your cervix, causing your knees to weaken.Good thing he was holding you up. There was an impossibly deep, deep want inside your walls that set you ablaze. The feeling so intense your legs wobbled more. The desire was gut wrenching, so powerful and desperately needed his cock. He was fully sheathed but it was not enough. You needed him to move, drag and stroke himself along slick walls. Your clit throbbed. Placing your fingers onto the bundle of nerves you spun quick circles that briefly had your eyes roll. You couldn’t wait anymore and began to throw yourself back on him, forcing a garbled moan out of him. Both of you needed to get this over with fast. Cursing yourself for falling into your own desires as easily as he did. All he had to do was close the door but no. He loves risks and this situation made his dick painfully hard for him. What is pleasure without a little pain? You imagined him saying. He observed you like a hawk, watching you fuck yourself. Hearing him gulp then heave faster. His mouth was open, curls misplaced (from his usual hairdo), and brows knitted together again… A deafening laughter came from the halls when you began to panic. You stopped to peer at the cracked open door. He tightly grabbed onto your waist and pressed his thumbs into your back dimples, treating them as thumb holders. The first thrust was hard. You were caught off guard when your body lunged forward, causing objects to fall from the desk you leaned on. The laughing paused. Then the next one was even harder. He barely even started and tears began to sting in your eyes. His hair now falling towards his face, ruining his perfect pomade. Each movement he made, his locks swiftly followed. You felt the way his cock hauled to and fro. He knew how tight and warm you were but it always left him in shambles. Your walls clenched, subduing his bulging veins, and molding his dick on each thrust. He wanted to cum. He wanted to be deeper. He wanted to be one with you. Anxiety was through the roof but, thankfully, the people accompanying the halls continued with their conversation. All your attention was on the door where all the sounds originated from. The pace changed as you tried to listen for any footsteps.

Then all of a sudden he trembled and went stiff. He placed his chest against you for leverage. Lowering his head, listening how each breath was a struggle for him. You could see his wet curls in your peripheral vision. You turned your head to look.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” You asked with genuine fear in your heart. Endless questions began to flood in your head. What if he didn’t want it? What if he regretted this decision? What if a bad memory was prompted? Was he disgusted by the thoughts of long ago?

“I’m close.” He choked out, “I need you to come first.” You found yourself relieved that he wasn’t uncomfortable. He was far from it. He withheld his own pleasure though, choosing to serve you before anything else. Being used to lifelong servitude and to pleasing others, it was only natural to him. This was going to change eventually. Astarion was walking on a thin line and quickly losing his balance. It took all his will and power just not to cum deep in your womb. He was right on the edge, so close all he needed was a push. You whined and wiggled your hips.

“Do not move.” He ordered, cock violently twitching inside you and mouth pulled into a snarl.

“Just cum!” You could see his head shake from the corner of your vision, “please!” You lifted your face from the drawer and held onto the wood the best you could. Your hips snapped back into him. He threw his head back and groaned loudly as if it pained him.

“Please, please, please, please!” You continued to beg. He was seconds from bursting just from your pleading. Your manicured nails drove deep marks on the drawer and the mirror began to shake back and forth. Your rapid breath fogged up the reflection in front of you and blocked the view. You kept going faster. Your earrings swayed back and forth with all the movement, along with your long necklace that was repeatedly bumping against your breasts. His whole body weight was on you now, ceasing your thrusts, and he placed himself deep inside. The drawer was back to painfully jabbing at you and it kept you from breathing properly. And whatever air trapped in your lungs was forced out of you when he rammed into you one last time. His cockhead glued to your cervix when he blew his fat load into you. His eyes went wide. Hair completely down. He looked like he was dying and ascending at the same time then damn near screamed.

He leaned back to give your aching bones some rest with a sweaty forehead against your shoulder. He was groaning even past his orgasm. You reached up to caress him.

“My star. I really wanted to go to the ball.” You sigh. He held onto your breasts again and pinched your nipples. “Are you not done?” Your makeup was ruined and so was your dress. You didn’t even get to cum either. But that was okay, as long as he relished in himself for once.

“Not quite. I’m sorry, darling. I’m sure there’s a spare dress.” He lifted his head and applied soft kisses to your cheeks

“Star, I really liked this dress.”

“I am sorry, my treasure.”

“This occasion was important to me.”

“I’m sorry…” It’s not often he would apologize. “Please, one more…” He sounded so weak and shattered. His head against your back just huffing and puffing. He held onto your waist, lovingly running with thick fingers down your exposed skin. Your skin was squishy compared to his rough finger pads. He was still hard and deep within you, his tip still cuddling your cervix. Another sigh escaped your lips, and you felt your clit throb again. Still unsatisfied. Your eyebrows arched upwards at the sensation. He wanted more and so did you. He felt so good just being seated inside you with his cum seeping out of you, most likely staining his pants and traveling down his balls. You could feel the stretch his thick dick provided to your abused walls. The same familiar feeling of want was still coiled up within, you needed release so badly. You wanted him to fuck it out of you. You bit your lip and looked into the mirror. Pretending to see his own reflection standing behind you. The thought of it made you clamp down on him and you both moaned. You turned your head and looked into his cat-like eyes. His broken voice did not match the way he was glaring at you. Seeming possessive.

Astarion pressed your back against his chest and your lips instinctively pressed on his jaw when he did so. When he pulled out, you could feel his cum spill between your thighs. Must’ve been very pent up. He moved his hand up towards the torn dress that was clinging to your hips, and tried to pass it down your legs, but the waist chain kept it from doing so. He ripped the pearled chain, and the beads fell onto the floor with the dress itself. The torn material was a tripping hazard that pooled around your feet. You didn’t even try to express your anger since he wouldn’t have acknowledged it. The only clothing you had on was the lace panties, the stockings, the jewelry, and your high heels. The vampire behind you was still completely clothed. You could still sense his icy coolness even through the layers of his attire. Your slim hand went down to begin playing with your clit.

His arm wrapped around your waist as the other slid his dick back inside you. Your pussy welcomed him hungrily. Your other hand grabbed onto his strong forearm as he began his thrusts. You kissed his jaw and cheeks, staining them a nice red with the remaining pigment you had on your lips. Astarion shut his eyes for a brief moment, cherishing in your care. He felt overwhelmed with love and lust. He had no idea how to express it. You were the best thing that’s happened to him. Finally someone who would put him first. Providing him soft affection and kind words even when he thought he didn’t deserve it. Being treated so kindly angered him in a way. The way you kissed him was so gentle compared to the way he was fucking you. Astarion felt guilty for rutting into you so harshly, but he couldn’t contain what he was feeling. Whatever that feeling was.

He looked down to watch as you played with yourself. Seeing your hand movements down between your breasts. Each thrust had them bounce. Your mascara ran down your flushed cheeks as your lipstick smeared against your chin and nose. Your eyeshadow and liner was smudged as well. It was all a mess and he loved it. He loved this. He loved you. Something so beautiful ravaged by him. Astarion kept going and wouldn’t stop; he couldn't. Not with the way your walls eagerly swallowed him. How it would squeeze down on him everytime he pulled back, asking him not to leave. You were velvety, tight, and wet. Feeling every ridge and every flutter. Felt your legs shake and wobble. He sensed how you would progressively compress on him the closer you got. Barely even able to shove himself fully into you. The tip kept hitting that perfect spot, the spot that had your eyes rolling and he kept striking and beating it devastatingly fast. You stopped kissing him, having a hard time breathing through the vicious motions. You can’t think. Everything was a blur and you felt dizzy. Your pretty nails dug into his forearm without a care in the world. The sound of your hips meeting was far too loud, anyone with ears would be able to listen. You tried your best to stay quiet, but the hits Astarion kept giving was blowing your cover. The slapping was loud, the way the desk rumbled was loud, the way the mirror shook was loud and each time it trembled it would hit the wall. You hoped the music was deafening enough to muffle everything while he was giving you a throrough fuck. Completely surrendering yourself to him. Taking him so well. Your hair was all over your face now, whisps sticking to sweat, to tears, and to gloss. The edge of the drawer was pinching the hand that was between your legs and it hurt, squishing your arm. Astarion began to lean forwards now which made it even worse making your nails dig deeper into his sleeved arm to brace yourself. He was never this rough before. One hand came up and moved your hair out of the way to smooch you.

“Good pet.” He whispered rasply. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. He bended further into you. Not only did the drawer now hurt your arm but it went back to crushing your ribs. You were on your tippy toes from the positioning and positive that your heels were breaking. Your fingers rubbed quick circles on your clit while he plowed through you, which had a sob escape you. You’ve been trying to keep quiet. Despite the other ruckus the both of you have been doing, the last thing you wanted was someone hearing you delighting yourself in such a publicly debauched way. He himself wasn’t holding back though. Anyone would be able to hear him panting. You were doing this to him. It all felt so wrong but it only further encouraged the throbbing in your core. He let a long, pained groan go while baring his teeth. The sharp fangs gleamed in the light as he slowly glided his tongue over them. He was frustrated and wanted this to last longer.

“Gonna cum again?” You tease.

“Yes.” His eyes were wide now as he slammed in. He looked crazed. Like a rabid animal chasing his own high. White silver hair framing his sculpted features. Red orbs peering through the strands. He was actually enjoying himself. Actually enjoying sex without the weight of his past bearing down on him. That realization made you gush. Eyes rolling as you felt his (previous) cum and wetness drip down your ankles.

“Yeah?” You coo.

“Yes.”

“Then do it. Fuck your child into me. Do it. Fuck me.” You said through gritted teeth. You didn’t mean for it to sound like a command and it made your heart drop the second those words left your mouth. You could only hope at the moment that he was okay with it. You were going to apologize until he jerked your hair back and forced your face upwards. Unleashing something primal the second you finished that sentence. He wanted you to bear his child even if it was an impossible feat. Astarion hates kids but the thought drove him mad and he was willing to give you everything you desired. He kept pulling until you were able to look into his red eyes. Towering over you. You could see just how deranged he appeared. Consumed by passion. The insatiable hunger that radiated off his cold body was intoxicating. Your back was impossibly arched now and you felt like you were gonna snap in half. Even more so whenever he bucked his hips. The severe pain on your arm made you abandon your needy clit.

“Yeah? Like that, darling? Huh? Just like that?” You couldn’t say a word. Not one. The ache in your ribs, back, scalp and neck was intolerable but you needed him to cum. To not care about anything else but his own pleasure. You could feel his dick pummeling through your guts and mistreating your cervix. Somehow you were still reaching your high.

“This is what you want? Huh? Yes? No? Tell me.” He spoke but it didn’t mean anything. All words lost their meaning. Astarion was fucking your brains out. The heels broke under his ministrations. He was wrecking everything. Your vision went blurry from the tears, they kept spilling and wouldn’t stop. You were going to cum crying. You were gonna cum just like this.

“So cockdumb you can’t even answer me?” The eye contact was driving you both crazy. The view he had was so fucking hot you wouldn’t believe it. His cum stained balls smacking your clit with each hit. You grounded your cunt against him just to grind your clit against his balls and you rolled your hips for more. Finally your bundle of nerves was getting the attention it deserved. Your mouth was open, spilling silent cries when your eyes moved to the back of your head. No longer able to stare into his blown pupils. He gruffed in anger and grabbed you by the throat instead of your hair.

“Look at me.” He told you as his hand squeezed ruthlessly. You listened. “There you go, my sweet little treat. You’re taking me so well.” Astarion smiled down at you villainously, teeth white and shiny. Silver hair all over the place. Eyes manic. He was fucking mental. Juices flowed down as you came, If his pants were not ruined before, it was ruined now. You came looking deep into his soul, violently trembling and jolting in snapped heels. You needed to scream but couldn't because of the choking. Mouth opened and closed for air. The tear soaked makeup slightly burned when it slipped into your eyes. Veins pulsing the best it could despite the blockade Astarion’s ivory hands gave. Your head was hurting and thumping and your palms laid on what was in front for any form of support. Once again your nails worked itself into the wooden drawer leaving behind more horrible marks in its wake.

Astarion fucked your beaten pussy past your orgasm. Back being all sorts of blown out. Your walls were milking his dick and balls, begging for his seed to flood your womb and hoping to knock you up. It made him grip your throat even tighter. Your Adam’s apple tried bobbing up and down to swallow up any breath you could seek. In his point of view your face was a light scarlet because of the lack of oxygen, with a vein protruding from your forehead. Him mistreating you, and you letting him sent shivers up his spine. He let go once your vision almost faded and blurred, then brutally drove his fangs into your neck. You gasped for air when he unclasped, somewhat because of the sudden pain and mostly because of the choking. Having large amounts of air fill your lungs helped you regain vision. The mirror was no longer foggy and you could get a good view of the situation. You were in tatters. Hair. Makeup. Outfit. Embarrassment creeped in with just how fucked out and shameless you seemed. Is this what you really looked like? Or was the mirror playing tricks? Is this what Astarion has been seeing this whole time? How depraved and disgusting. He loved the view though. Your jewelry, tits, and locks kept moving with the thrusts. But with the aggressive and speedy drinking, your sight would blur up in no time. And with your desperate breathing, the mirror would soon fog up again. The tang in your blood was sweeter than before and his fangs pushed further in to drain you better. Astarion was properly feeding this time and didn’t hold back in greedily sucking you up. Every muscle was sore and you were surely going to pass out. Then the taste of euphoria in your blood made him burst. Abruptly grabbing onto your breast, his yell was muffled since his teeth were still latched. He jerked with each rope of cum he shot into you. The tip probing and nuzzling your spent cervix. You let out a long moan when he started filling you to the brim a second time.

“Fuck. I'm sorry…” Astarion wiped your tears away when he came to his senses. Heavy pants mixing together. Your body was in horrible pain and limp but you felt joy in bringing him pleasure. He nuzzled you while skimming his fingers on the dark bruises kindly. “I’m so sorry darling. I don’t know what possessed me. I’ll make it up to you… what do you want to eat? I’ll bring food to you.” The marks on your neck began to show and he felt intense regret. How could he lose himself like this? How could he treat you this way? To someone he loved and appreciated so vastly? “Please forgive me, my love.” He said, fear in his trembling voice. He fucked up badly.

“Gods…” he whispered. You slumped onto the desk. Astarion was going to be hellbent on compensating you for the harm he had done.

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Well, yes, but—“

“Then it’s okay.”

“No. It is not okay. I am truly sorry. Do not try to validate my actions. I am so sorry about the ball, darling.”

“Yeah, you’re an asshole for tearing my dress and for breaking your promise to take me dancing.” You admitted as he embraced you. “But you can make it up to me by buying me a new dress. AND by giving me lots of cuddles. If you’re up for it.” You offer.

“Of course, my treasure, how could I say no?”

[ireneaesthetic]

Pointing out little moments and details of my fav s3 scene.

choir practice scene • episode 2

this scene caught me so off guard, in the best way possible.

it only took simon's "you should do an activity you actually like" for wilhelm to drop everything and choose getting to spend more time with him!

simon's reaction at wille joining the choir was also mine: he can't believe his eyes and keeps looking back at him with the brightest smile on his face. and simon shifting wille's attention to where the song lyric is bc it's all new to him is adorable.

wilhelm's little proud smirk between the kisses while simon is so into it: he knew and imagined simon's surprised and happy reaction to all this, but i bet he was thriving to see it up until this very moment. so he might just be thinking that he made the best choice of his life.

having to practice and wait for everyone to leave was probably torture for simon, when all he really wanted to do since wille came in was this (simon's main love language is clearly acts of service btw *cough*). he felt important, cared for, loved - and couldn't wait to reciprocate it.

also, he's holding the key chain and happens to do the middle finger with the same hand. if you look at it as a way of saying 'mind your own business' to us is quite funny.

simon setting the rhythm and wilhelm fully going along with it. they don't even separate their lips before leaning in for another kiss - melting into it. they literally said 'no need to catch air bc we're already breathing each other in'.

simon not breaking physical contact even once. his hands are the third main character in this scene: they act like a glue for their bodies and carry so much passion. it is peak chemistry.

going on his tiptoes to push himself as close as possible and clinging to wille for dear life is the most simon thing he's ever done. love really brings out the cuddliest version of him.

smiling into the kisses and out of the kisses? insane of them if you ask me (i support it) (keep doing it lovers).

wille smiling and biting his lip bc he's the one overwhelmed by simon's presence now. physical touch is his love language and he's flooded with simon's - he must feel the luckiest boyfriend on earth.

one of their greatest proofs of love has always been to provide each other's comfort by being exactly what they lack receiving from other people or what they need most of the times - it's a constant learning of how to give and take.

they can't get enough of it: it's not even only about the kissing but more about their need to just keep pulling the other closer, leaning into each other, slowing their movements to not leg go yet but take time to touch and deeply feel instead - wille's face speaks for itself. this hug is so intimate ugh.

it's finally shown a glimpse of wille's hand on simon's back! it was always there obv but it's nice to see it more properly.

wilhelm obsessing over simon's neck and simon who tilts his head back to make it more accessible. wille could've done it all and trace the path with kisses - simon wished - but the boy knew what he was doing!

the way simon looks up at him and wille rubs their noses back and forth, keeping his eyes on him, gives me butterflies.

they're super affectionate and it's the easiest thing for them to do. the intimacy that comes with their whispering, their own personal space becoming one for both of them to share bc it's safer, warmer, a lot more comfortable. everything is such a manifesto of how much they genuinely adore each other - it's what makes this the it scene for me.

their bottom lips touching are sooo *internally screaming*.

wilhelm stands still to let simon's lips brush past his own and simon's cheek resting against wille's lips to enjoy the feeling a little longer. they look so peaceful.

it happens after wille's "i like listening to you sing": they went from "he likes it when i sing" / "i do too, don't i?" (locker room's fight in s2) to wilhelm actually telling him that listening to his voice is one of the main reasons he joined the choir. it has to be extremely special for simon to finally hear it.

idk if it's just my mind making this up but let's pretend simon is kissing wille's neck here!

wilhelm picking simon up by the waist to carry him elsewhere and keep the thing going more privately. that's my wille.

can you believe this is the face of someone who's saying that he needs to go? to not miss the bus? he just looks crazy in love to me.

wille's laugh is cute! and simon throwing his stuff on the floor bc the priority was to push his boyfriend against the lockers to make out will never not be funny.

also, @allthefakepeople once said the only thing that could've made this scene even more perfect is if simon paused when walking away and ran back to wille to steal a quick goodbye kiss - ahhh i'd have been so here for it!

[ollie-lolly]

18+ Obey me cast smut headcanons

18+ Don't take my warnings lightly love~

most of Obey me cast x gender neutral reader

Warnings: My opinion, dark kinks, swearing, talking about smut in detail, minors don't interact

Note: Consent is important kids! In all these situations consent is used. Later side characters are not displayed here, since I am not at that part in the story. Reblogs and constructive criticism is always appreciated!

Concept: How I believe sex would be like with the characters! A lot of these are shared opinions by the Obey Me community.

Word count: 858~

Lucifer

-Hard dom for sure

-Will sub for you under certain circumstances

-R.I.P the bed

-Uses you as a stress reliever (with consent)

-Loves tying you up

-Daddy kink

-Brat tamer

-Secretly likes it when you act out

-Is willing to share you with Diavolo

Mammon

-Switch but with a sub lean

-Loves lap dances

-Wil try to use money during sex

-Strip games, especially poker

-Would love a sugar daddy/mommy lifestyle 

-Would love being the sugar daddy but would also love you playing that role

-Praise kink 100%

-Will want cuddles for a long time afterwards

-You are his human. No one else's, so sharing is off the table

-Just really wants to make you happy

-Loves watching you play with yourself

-Also is a brat in the sheets, if ya catch my drift

-Loves the pain <3

Leviathan (This being very long is my way of saying happy birthday to my baby boy <3)

-I also believe he is a switch with a sub lean

-Tail fucking

-Two cocks

-Underwear thief

-Loves being degraded and praised so…go to town!

-Needs constant reassurance so please give him some.

-A great way of easing him into it, is sexting and phone sex

-All the hentai he has seen definitely fucked his expectations up

-He also got like a couple of dark kinks because of it

-Hentai addiction, but will imagine you as one of the characters

-Is really into cuckolding, but is too shy to say anything about it

-When figuring out a kink you have to help him out since he is too shy to talk about it

-Does not last long in the beginning, but you can help him build it up over time

-There is a good chance that he is a virgin. He does masturbate a lot though

-PERVERT 

-You have to start intimate moments because of his insecurities

-That being said, when he is jealous that is definitely not the case

-Will want to have sex in the infamous bathtub

-Whether it is actually going to happen is up too you 

-But if you are willing to do it in said bathtub he will put tons of soft blankets and mattresses in there

-Role play

-When he role plays as a character he likes he is way more confident 

Satan

-Hard dom just like his daddy

-Uses you as a way to relive his anger and frustration which is often

-Always with consent

-Pet play <3

-Cockwarming while reading -Fucks you while reading

-Reads smut in public places

-Also fucks in public places <3

-The library is a popular pick, so uhh have fun? 

Asmodeus

-The definition of a switch

-This man has tried it all

-Certified sex god

-A sex toy collection larger then Diavolo's castle 

-Voyourism and exhibitionist

-Would be the most likely to share you sexually

-Especially with Solomon

-VERY experimental

-Very high sexdrive so goodluck!

-Has his little checklist in his room of where you have and haven't fucked yet

-Moans his own name

Beelzebub

-The definition of a service top

-Food play

-Good at head

-He is super sweet and gentle with you 

-Is obviously willing to share you with Belphegor

-2 for 1 deal!

-Will suggest doing it in at the gym or sport locker rooms

-Does not like to do it often, but will do it more if you want to!

Belphegor

-Switch

-Hard dom and power bottom 

-60% of the time will let you do most of the work

-A wild card you never know what to expect

-Might play with the concept with consent

-Knive play

-What i am trying to say, is that he likes his sex dark if that makes sense

-Has fantasies of kidnapping you with Beel

-Will use his powers to make you dream about sex

-Gets turned on when he sees you sleeping

-Will fuck you when you are asleep if you give him your blessing

Diavolo

-Soft dom

-R.I.P the bed and the floor, and.. you get the jist

-This man fucks and he fucks HARD

-Breeding kink 

-Please read my sugar daddy fics of this man to get a better idea of how he is like

Barbatos

-Also a service dom

-Will stop in the middle of sex if Diavolo or visitors need him

-He is a busy man, so don't expect a lot

-Tail fucking

-This man is a mystery, so he will definitely keep you on your toes

Simeon

-Switch?? Maybe soft dom

-We don't have enough in game material to make confident statements

-The only way you would get there is by a very very very motivated corruption kink

-Congrats! You made him fall from grace

-Will still keep a lot of his angelic traits when he falls. He will be gentle

-Secretly has a lot of pent up anger so good luck with that

Solomon

-Switch 

-He is a wild card man (just like Belphegor)

-You can never quite expect what is going to happen next

-Definitely puts his powers to good use

-If you are okay with it, he will invite Asmo to join in

-May or may not be your side hoe when you are in the human realm for a little too long

(Plz i need someone to write about this and tag me)

Started on and finished on: 8th of april 2023

[pommedepersephone]

Buck up, Hamlet! or how Aziraphale and Crowley's blocking helps communicate the evolution of their relationship

Can we talk about the blocking?

Specifically, I have been rewatching S1E3, one of my favorites. I love how the development of the relationship between Aziraphale and Crowley is shown through these little vignettes. There have been some great explorations of the costuming and dialogue, but what always strikes me is the BLOCKING. The way their placement and movements add such depth and tell the story of living as a queer person, having to communicate in coded language.

Through the episode, we get 4500 years of history - Eden, Mesopotamia, Golgatha, Rome and Wessex - to see Aziraphale and Crowley standing on their opposite sides. Aziraphale always on the right, Crowley always on the left. But after the Arrangement, their blocking changes drastically and becomes much more fluid and nuanced. Each scene after this is distinct but the scenes in at the Globe and the Bastille have the most development, and I find myself rewatching them A LOT. Here is what I see. 

All the World's a Stage

This is the first meeting we see that isn’t a chance encounter, though the two try to stage it as such. It takes place in a theatre - and they are acting, playing their roles as demon and angel. Even the humans are complicit in this performance, with Shakespeare stepping in to address the two "in your roles as the audience." Oh, delicious.

But once it's been firmly established for anyone watching that they AREN'T friends, they DON'T know each other (cough cough) the following moves are clearly choreographed and have been played out many times before. Crowley sashays to the right, opening the dance, and Aziraphale accepts the invitation to dance with: “What do you want?” 

“Why ever would you insinuate that I might possibly want something?” Crowley is just playing his role as cheeky demon offering up a temptation - but his position to the right of Aziraphale speaks to the fact that they are both very complicit in this performance.

“You are up to no good.”  “Obviously. And you are up to good, I take it? Lots of good deeds?” Just standard character establishment, here.

“No rest for the, well, good." Ah, this line, the inversion of the well known idiom. Because the line between good and evil (and between angel and demon) maybe aren't so distinct, and Aziraphale acknowledges this with his words. We are moving into negotiations now. "I have to be in Edinburgh at the end of the week. A couple of blessings to do, and a minor miracle to perform. Apparently, I have to ride a horse.”

“Ah hard on the buttocks, horses. Major design flaw, if you ask me. I’m meant to be headed to Edinburgh too this week. Tempting a clan leader to steal some cattle.” The way Crowley moves AROUND Aziraphale here, intimate but also careful, watching for his reactions.

“Doesn’t sound like hard work.” Said with a little sideways look, because Aziraphale can see where this is going. And he's open to suggestion temptation.

“That was why I thought we should… well, bit of a waste of effort. Both of us going all the way to Scotland.”

“You cannot actually be suggesting what I infer you are implying?” A little bit of pretense, because Aziraphale has to pretend to be tempted, right?

Crowley presses. “Which is?” Because he is willing to play the part of tempting demon, but only if it is clear this is a farce, that this is indeed mutually agreeable. He is making sure they are doing the same dance.

"That one of us goes to Edinburgh and does... both. The blessing and the tempting."

Yes, they are doing the same dance, and what is left is the formality of concluding the dance - a moment of Aziraphale expressing his concern for Crowley, the coin toss - they both know how it ends. It's a ritual, an act of give and take.

But if it were ONLY the Arrangement, a simple quid pro quo, it would have ended there. It doesn't. Instead, the two offer each other a more intimate exchange - "It'd take a miracle to get people to come and see Hamlet."

Aziraphale doesn't even have to ask with words, just a look, and Crowley happily agrees. That is the final part of the dance, a small acknowledgement that this isn't just about making their jobs easier.

A Free Man in Paris

Paris is something else. This is a HUGE step beyond making sure that audiences like a show your angel is particularly fond of. This is a stolen dangerous moment, an OUTRAGEOUS flirtation that takes place outside of time, conducted in clear view of others but beyond their understanding. Isn’t that how their entire relationship is now conducted, hidden in plain view and so clearly affectionate? 

And look, Aziraphale is BITCHY in this scene. Peak That Bitch. He's just purchased a bookshop, he's creating a very permanent place for himself here on earth - Aziraphale is feeling quite proud of himself. In fact, he's preening a bit that he has figured out how to exist, even in some small limited way, as himself within the confines of the system of Heaven. Buuuut he may have gone just a bit too far, and gotten himself in a spot of trouble. He has landed in a prison, threatened with "death" and stuck because he's already gotten a warning about being frivolous with his miracles. Oh jolly good that Crowley is here to save the day!

There is something raw being communicated here here, where both Aziraphale and Crowley are presenting themselves to the world in ways that are dangerous. Aziraphale's reaction tells us that Crowley's look is doing things to him, but also in a way that it is NOT socially appropriate. Aziraphale may have showed up in all the trappings of an English aristocrat, but here is Crowley as a French royal sympathizer. NEITHER of these are safe choices in the middle of a revolution. The costuming is so critical to fully appreciating this scene, so check out the amazing clothing overview with @cobragardens.

When Crowley arrives and stops time, he and Aziraphale find themselves situated facing one another, but angled so they aren’t facing straight on. Interestingly, from Crowley’s perspective, he is where he is supposed to be - the left of Aziraphale. But Aziraphale, from his perspective, is also to the left of Crowley. It was Aziraphale after all who initiated this situation, who put himself in danger by being too… Aziraphale. It’s dangerous to be yourself when you don’t fit into heteronormative social expectations, isn’t it? Still, the two keep up a very flirtatious banter as they discuss the situation, and Crowley maintains his very-intentionally-unbothered sitting position up until Aziraphale goes too far and thanks him for coming to his rescue.

While Crowley is also flirting with danger in the way he is dressed, he also didn't just pop over for a nibble dressed this way. And whatever he might have been up to was interrupted so he could rescue Aziraphale from the consequences of his own reckless authenticity. After removing the chains, Crowley pushes Aziraphale to reconsider his honest expression of himself in this exact place and time - for the sake of survival.

Aziraphale, willing to risk himself alone, rather quickly adopts a more acceptable appearance when it might impact Crowley. It is only after Aziraphale is safely disguised and returned to his proper place to the right of Crowley, ONLY then does Crowley restart time. They can go enjoy lunch now, with the proper precautions and masks in place.

For these two particular human-coded occult beings, this is also such an honest moment. They both showed up damn authentically - Aziraphale so fabulously ostentatious, focused on chasing down some pleasure (in this crepes) and Crowley wrapped in a clear protest against the current violence. Just as Aziraphale indicated with his "Oh good LORD" as he looked the demon up and down with obvious thirst, Crowley's request to Aziraphale to change his appearance and mask better is done in such a way that affirms that Crowley LIKES who Aziraphale is without the mask.

The scene is so playful on the surface, the body language and dialogue flirtatious. It's something so familiar to the queer experience, making light of the absolute danger that we must sometimes navigate just to exist. The more I watch it, the more obsessed I become.

A Spot of Bodysnatchin'

It is worth remembering that we didn't get this scene in S1.

I am going to go through it soon, because again they dance back and forth beautifully in this minisode, but suffice to say we all know... it didn't end well for Crowley.

No Walk in the Park

The moment in St. James Park is brief, and it wasn't until S2 and the meeting at Edinburgh that we got the full context for this meeting. But even without this, we can clearly see that things are weighing heavily on Crowley. The scene in the Bastille took place in a prison, with the threat of execution over their heads. The juxtaposition of this conversation taking place in a park - a place that is not only NOT inherently dangerous but looks lovely and welcoming - only highlights the change in Crowley's attitude. He still attempts to be playful, but he's afraid. Look at that paper, it's a bit crumpled, he's been carrying it around for a while.

They are firmly entrenched on their assigned sides for the entire conversation, both very stiff. It feels uncomfortable to watch. When Aziraphale refuses his request, and indicates whatever is between them is just "fraternizing" with the enemy, we get a glimpse of how fearful Crowley really is. In none of these flashbacks has Crowley ever spoken to Aziraphale with the anger we see here. When they part in anger, it feels wrong.

Take Me to Church

So there is a long break between meetings now. But then, ah, the church. The place Aziraphale realizes his feelings. (Look, if Michael says this is where Aziraphale realized he'd fallen in love, I am not here to argue.) What I love is that again we see Crowley and Aziraphale swapping sides. Crowley is here to save his wayward angel, AGAIN. Despite feeling the ill effects of walking on consecrated ground, Crowley is here to save his angel and defeat Nazis. It's definitely not remotely evil intentions.

It isn't like the Bastille, but some of the parallels exist - Aziraphale failing to grasp the risks of his actions. And the silliness of his little dance coupled with just how deadly serious this situation is harks back to their flirtations in the prison.

Crowley is to the right of Aziraphale from the time he arrives until the bomb drops. Then in the rubble, with the danger past, we see them on their assigned sides again. UNTIL Crowley hands Aziraphale the books he saved with a "little demonic miracle of my own." He then crosses Aziraphale, and we see the look of absolute adoration as the angel watches him walk away to the right.

Sweeeeeet baby Jesus, baby girl has it BAD.

Always Crashing in the Same Car

This extremely heartbreaking scene has been dissected, chewed over, breaking our little hearts with it's sharp pieces.

But it is purposeful that this scene took place in the Bentley. Being in the car is symbolic because Aziraphale is here making an offering to Crowley, in his space, something that he Aziraphale feels is WRONG which is highlighted by his placement to the left of Crowley. He is scared, acting against all his own desires, but he does it anyway because he cares for Crowley. It's simple, powerful placement. Need to hurt more? Yeah, thought so. Take a deeper look at the dialogue with @zionworkzs.

[14dayswithyou]

I'm not sure if this was asked before but! It's Angel hug time!! How would the cast hug Angel! (Would love to see a tall vs short Angel for all the tall Angels!)

WARNING... minors/ageless blogs: do not interact. please read my pinned post before you send in anything !!

I left Angel's height ambiguous because there's a loooot of characters now, and it takes a lot out of me to write for all of them at once ^^; But I did keep tall Angel in mind while writing this!!

Ren Big, warm hugs that remind you of home. He'll wrap his arms around your waist and pull you flush against his body with a gentle smile. He's also the type to wait until you let go first before he moves away. Secretly revels in receiving physical affection for the first time in a loooong while.

Moth It honestly feels like a giant bear hug inside of a fuzzy blanket. They're the type to lean into you while hugging, and likes to rest their head on your shoulder if it's one of those longer, "I haven't seen you in a while" kind of moments. Their chest is prime real estate for your head, and they often silently encourages you to lean on it if you want to.

Violet Warm and inviting, kind of what you'd expect from her. She often likes to sway/rock the person she's hugging, and is more of a squeezer than a "pat on the back-er". If she's feeling cheeky, Violet might try to test her strength by picking you up — and you'd honestly be surprised with how strong she appears.

Elanor Motherly and familial kind of hugs. She also won't let go before you do, and often likes to give your back a gentle rub while she hugs you. If she thinks you need it, Elanor might even reach up and stroke your head in a comforting manner. Soft praises and encouraging remarks are usually spoken during these moments.

Conan Another one who gives warm, inviting bear hugs. At first, Conan might be a little rigid when giving you hugs, but that's only because he's your boss and he wants to keep things strictly professional. But if you get closer to him, he'll definitely open up more and give you those longer, more affectionate hugs that you need.

Jae Very much the "hehe XD glomps you" type. Jae puts his entire body weight into his hugs, and oftentimes gets a bit carried away with it. Like Violet, he'll rock you from side to side; but if he's feeling especially hyper, Jae will pick you up and spin you around entirely. His hugs are always coupled with carefree laughter and smiles.

Leon Another one whose hugs feel like home. Leon usually lets you dictate the type of hug you want from him, and effortlessly adapts to it. He'll wrap his arms securely around your waist and let you rest your head against his shoulder if you need it. He'll often whisper about how much he's missed you — even if it's only been a few minutes. If that's the case, he'll be more over-the-top and dramatic.

Teo Brief, one-armed hugs that barely last two seconds. If you're in private, however, his hugs are more relaxed and intimate. His hands often rest just below the small of your back while he rubs faint circles into the fabric covering your skin. Teo can allow himself to be softer in these moments, and usually only reserves these kinds of hugs for the people he trusts.

Olivia Practically throws herself onto the person she's hugging, and usually lets them be the one to lift her off the ground. Olivia isn't one for simple and brief hugs — she wants those boisterous, almost rom-com styled hugs where she gets lifted up and spun around. But if you ask, she'd be more than willing to try and lift you instead. At most, you'll both get a good laugh out of it.

[mrsrookhunt]

Hello! I saw your request was open and I wasn’t sure what to really think of

So maybe a general or simple nsfw hc of Yandere Chuuya?

My first ask! Of course! ❤ I added more characters for the sake of making a well-rounded post, but I gave chuuya a bonus scenario :) Enjoy!

Yan!Bsd Men in Bed

NSFW!!

(Short post, feel free to request more characters)

Pairings: Chuuya Nakahara, H.P. Lovecraft, Mushitaro Oguri, Jouno Saigiku

Chuuya Nakahara

Warnings: punishment, manipulation, yandere, kinks mention, violence mentioned/implied

Chuuya is nice in bed, mostly.

He's powerful, and not afraid to be the dominant one, but he is still very respectful of your boundaries. He feels very guilty for the way he's treated you, so protectively, in his eyes. But you've grown tired of it, and he knows; so, as not to anger you further, he tries to make you as in control as possible.

Chuuya will do whatever you'd like, so long as he still gets to be the one in charge. He'll indulge your kinks or let you explore with him, permitting it doesn't cross his own boundaries (but considering the fact that you're willing to be intimate with him at all, he isn't too picky).

Definitely into degradation and BDSM, but he's fine if you're uncomfortable with that. Only occasionally will he ask you to do something that steps outside of your comfort zone, and it's usually for special occasions, like his birthday or holidays. I feel like mirror sex would be a special anniversary treat with him.

He's only rough with you if you ask or more like plead, or if you need punishment .

Chuuya doesn't take sexual punishment (or any punishment) lightly, but if you've pushed him far enough.... He may torture you in very unexpected ways.

You think, for a moment, that you're in trouble. You fucked up, you fucked up so bad. Chuuya slammed the front door behind you, with a blatant fury that made you jump.

"Please, Chuuie, I'm sorry-- don't- don't do anything rash now-"

"Don't tell me what the FUCK to do in my own home."

He cornered you into the kitchen, snatching your arm and bending you over the center counter.

"Tell me how sorry you are.' His voice was soft, quiet. Testing.

"I'm sorry--I'm- really s-sorry" You choked out from between sobs. You had never seen it coming, the violence, the anger, the sheer reaction, to your misdeed.

The cold granite countertops cut into your stomach with the chill and pressure. You squeezed your eyes shut as he reached for his back pocket, the one with his knife.

You gasped when a small, shockingly fast-paced vibrator was placed on your thigh. Out of all the things you thought he could and would do to you, this was not one.

He put his hand on your other thigh, making you involuntarily moan.

"I'm going to show you the true meaning of punishment tonight."

H.P. Lovecraft

Lovecraft essentially has no idea what he's doing in bed; he understands the concept in theory, but he really still feels lost. His sense of clinginess and protectiveness doesnt carry over into the bedroom, and is lost on everyone but you, so you're the only one who can guide him in this matter.

He gives you the most doe-eyed look if you ask if he ever considered sexual punishments. He doesn't really understand why sex is used for pleasure or pain; he finds procreation to be the only benefit to him.

Overall, getting him into bed with you is the biggest challenge, but once you've got him there, you can change his life; and you certainly will.

He's not a man to make much noise or fuss, but he's absolutely blissed out, and wonders how he has not understood this aspect of life before.

By the time you're done, he's more attached to you than ever, curling you into his arms and refusing to let go. You've shown him just one more reason to love you as much as he does, and keep you from showing anyone else the same kindness.

Mushitaro Oguri

Mushitaro finds sex in general an indecent act for most anything. That isn't to say he doesn't have urges like everyone else, but for the sake of his meticulous regimen, he will squish them down until he absolutely cannot control himself anymore.

You're both the source of his frustrations and the perfect release. Mushitaro is completely in control in bed, just like he is in every aspect of your life together.

Mushitaro can be kinkier than most men; casual choking, roleplay, and some hardcore BDSM can be in the cards for you depending on how far he's gone to deny himself previously.

That being said, your needs also often don't get met. You don't like to ignore yourself the way he does, but he forces you to. You're not allowed any toys, he has SafeSearch on for google, and you are routinely scolded on the indecency of self-pleasure, regardless of whether he's caught you or not.

Mushitaro's demanding and high maitenence personality makes him one of the worst in the sexual part of your relationship.

He rarely considers sexual punishment, unless the circumstances are juussst right. I.e, if you've been caught touching yourself in any way, shape or form, and Mushitaro's already been hot around the collar, he may be rougher and more cruel in bed than normal just to teach you a lesson.

Jouno Saigiku

Joun-bug's high sex drive makes him a worthwhile adversary in the bedroom. Much like Chuuya, he wants to be in control; but more than wanting to, he will be in control.

He'll push you to the brink of absolute pleasure and then throw you down and tell you how worthless you are until you beg and plead and go through whatever torture he has planned to get him to finish you off.

Jouno is always going to be... well, Jouno. He'll sadistically torture you in every way he can possibly exploit in bed for his own pleasure, and he doesn't give a damn whether you're comfortable with it or not. Remember, his composure and sweet smile is a farce he hides behind; and he'll show you his true self when he feels it's appropriate and necessary.

Maybe he'll be gentle with you, if you've been put through enough and he feels you deserve it. He does love you, but his desires take priority. If you've gone through whatever he had planned for his own pleasure, he may indulge in yours.

Sexual punishment is the worst with him; he takes absolutely no mercy on you, and punishes you often, for the smallest of things.

[grapejuicestyless]

Mad Woman

Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

Angst to less angst???

Summery: Out of his own jealousy, Jeremiah decides to take the one thing Conrad has always wanted away from his brother in an attempt to finally have something over him. He never meant to hurt anyone, but in doing that, he hurt everyone.

Jeremiah is a total douche in this(I love him it’s just bc I needed a mean character.)

“You can have her, I won’t get in the way. But I will not watch you climb over people like her. She might be your girlfriend now, but she was my best friend first. Whatever you do, I will not defend it.” He was seething in anger when the news broke. Chest heaving unevenly the moment he had to watch as my lips captured hers. How my hands had a home in her hips. I was the one who got to worship her. I hope it killed him to know I finally had something he didn’t. I won the girl, not him.

He left the room, leaving behind the lingering shadow of a storm that brewed between us. A tension that was caused solely by his own jealousy. Conrad had always been older, stronger, smarter. The better brother. I hoped it killed him to know that even if all those things were true, he still couldn’t get the one thing he so desperately wanted. I felt giddy about it, in contrast to him.

I had the warmth of a childhood friend to crowd my bed on the chilly summer nights. Company that would only be for me, she was all mine.

Of course, Y/n was completely oblivious to the rift being created from this scandal. She always was so blind to what people felt for her, too nervous to see if her instincts were true. She never wanted to feel like an idiot if she was wrong, so she ignored them.

She would’ve never let me kiss her, hold her, have her if she’d known what Conrad felt for her. She didn’t want to see anyone hurt. So much so, she would rather live a life of misery and loneliness than to pit two friends against each other, much less brothers. And if that wasn’t enough to point out her stupidity around the topic, it was painfully apparent the way Y/n and Conrad shared glances. Like he was the only boy in the world. She didn’t idolize him, she had too much pride to put a boy over herself, but the love she felt for him was overflowing in a way that seeped into everyone else’s lives. Always trying to push the pair together.

Now, Y/n was mine. I could call her my girlfriend, my own. Conrad had finally lost, I had something over him. It wasn’t like I didn’t like Y/n. I thought she was the most beautiful girl in Cousins, maybe even in Pennsylvania. I hadn’t been, but I could assume that she was.

The relationship started slow, easy. I still remember the first night we spent together. I hadn’t touched her more than my arm slung around her shoulders so she could prop her head up on my bicep. I didn’t push for her to give me affection. She never hinted that she wanted more anyways. It was never rushed, we were always able to enjoy the closeness of our company, never needing more. Just being close was enough.

Sometimes we’d kiss, my hands in hers, eyes fluttering shut. Mostly, I did it in front of Conrad. I believed it felt better when it was more than just a kiss, but a way to rub salt in the wound that Conrad wore shamefully on his sleeve. Sometimes he would clear his throat, start talking to break it up so he could save the last bit of composure he had left. More often than now though, Conrad just walked away. Not willing to fight for her attention anymore. Not strong enough to even try.

It was a pattern like this, Y/n and I having small intimate moments behind closed doors, saving the steamy things for the couch cushions or the poolside mid-afternoon. Our dirty laundry was aired out in the open, allowing the mind to not only imagine what we were doing, but have physical proof of it.

Part of me felt bad, horrible inside. Y/n was the best of all of us. The kindest, the bravest. The second oldest. While Conrad struggled to keep us all safe, she was always his helping hand. Keeping everyone content and satisfied. Truly, I did really like her. I loved being with her. I’d always had a little crush on the girl, how could I not? Everything about her was so perfect. She was a dream. But deep down I always knew that what we had together had only started through some sort of twisted competition I held with my brother. The burning desire to have something he never would.

Maybe that’s when I started to push her away, because even if I had once been able to convince myself that I was with her out of my own feelings, I knew better than that. I knew I was doing it out of pure selfishness. What was so new and vibrant in June was rusted and unwanted by the following spring. Our long history together only making the shine turn into a matte finish, something old and worn out. I no longer had any pull towards her. I no longer imagined how her soft skin would feel under my fingertips. How her lips melted against mine. Our closeness, even in the most intimate moments felt dull. Sparks that once flew hiding away.

I began to try to pull away without a reason. Only that I was bored. Conrad seemingly felt better about it, coming to terms that maybe this was the end of his little daydream he always imagined he had with Y/n. So the competition felt useless. It was no fun anymore, I didn’t care. And with that dying down, so did the excitement. The thing that had sparked the fire burning between us in the beginning.

………………………………………………………………………………….

“Hey, Jere.” Her voice was like honey, smile so infectious as she waited for me by the front door. Summer had begun again and still, I strung the poor girl along instead of just cutting the ties. Slowly wrapping my noose around her, slowly breaking down her confidence. I watched her genuine kindness turn into a cover up for the scathing anger underneath it.

“Hi, Y/n.” I brushed past her, shoulder bumping, I expected her to follow. She didn’t.

Her frame was still at the door, hands clenching and unclenching quickly. I heard her sigh out of irritation. Finally then, she turned on her heals to meet me in the kitchen, elbows leaning on the counter, eyes killing me slowly with her deadly glare.

This was some form of punishment that was aimed directly at nothing. Only due to the fact that I didn’t have a single care about her anymore. Not even her darkest moods had any affect on me.

“What? What’s got you so upset?” I almost wanted to tease her further, knowing fully well that what I was doing was getting under her skin. I swear she almost broke, but her mouth was sealed shut.

“I’m not upset.” She breathed out evenly, putting on a false smile. Just once I’d like her to get mad. Freak out on me, end it so this whole game could be over.

“Really? You seem mad.” Looking away from her, I went to focus on anything else more interesting in the kitchen.

“Well, I’m not.” Her voice was raised, but she didn’t scream. She never did. She would never let anyone see her upset, always wanting peace. So instead of taking out her frustrations on me, the person who was the source of them, she left. Walking away to find where her head had gone.

“Who do you think you are?” His voice was harsh, like a slap to the face. Conrad never put his hands on me, but I almost wished he would’ve. A punch would’ve ended much quicker than this long argument that was about to ensue.

I shrugged.

“You have someone you don’t deserve at all, someone who stands by you even at your worst and you treat her like that?” Conrad was always the more mature out of the two of us. To describe him as more levelheaded would be untrue. We both had our moments, lost our cool on multiple occasions. But out of the two of us, he usually made the better choices. Did the right things. It would’ve been the right thing to let her go after that. It should’ve been a wake up call. But instead all I got out of his small outburst was the confirmation that even if he downplayed it, deep down he was still hurting. He still wanted her. So I would continue to play the game.

Not because I wished to hurt my brother, or Y/n for that matter. But because I just wanted one thing in my life that Conrad did not have. It was cruel, and twisted but I could not see that. It was like some sort of tunnel vision was casted down onto me and I only had one goal. Excluding the fact that I was hurting two very important people in my life.

………………………………………………………………………………….

It was early August by now, and it was a long time coming. This summer, unlike all the previous ones, seemed to drag by. Tensions high each day, only growing worse and worse with each passing hour until a fight broke out. The magic that once put us all in a trance had slipped off, revealing our darkest colors. To say that my relationship was strong, holding up through this would be a lie. It would’ve been a lie since July.

Because in July, I had not only been distancing myself from Y/n, but I had taken an interest for her younger sister. Belly. To compare the two, Belly was a little louder. A little shorter and her hair was longer. Y/n and her shared the same traits other than that. Not appearance wise, but personality wise. Both having some driving force pushing them into an intense competitive state. Both overly kind and caring for others. It was like newer version of the girl I already had, it was irresistible.

Even in my worst behavior, I could see it was wrong. So wrong to have let Belly trap me in the kitchen. No, even I wasn’t that naïve to blame it solely on her. It was wrong for me to kiss Belly. Even in Y/n and I’s roughest patch. She had never done anything to hurt me, always trying her hardest to be the best girlfriend someone could be to someone like me.

Glass shattered on the floors, a soft gasp being swallowed whole by the suddenness of the sound.

Belly and I pulled away with a pop, scrambling to fix ourselves, to downplay our mistake.

“Y/n.” I was utterly shocked to see her standing there, hair pinned up, the shirt she wore was ironically her sisters. She had glitter by her eyes and lips reddened, bitten raw. She looked like something out of a movie, even at her worst. For the first time I’d known her, she was speechless. The worst part, however, was the matching expression painted on the face behind her. The smile fading slowly into a familiar expression mixed with shock, hate and disappointment. Maybe even disgust.

“Y/n…” I tried again, trying to make it sound more pitiful. I reached out to grasp her hands, hold her. I wanted to hold her. It was odd. In the entire situation, I’d never really longed to hold her like this. I’d never felt my heart beat so fast. Shit, was I really? I was in love.

“No-don’t.” She warned, backing away, hands raised as a warning. She couldn’t even look at me, let alone Belly who was now hidden behind my shoulder, sinking down into herself.

“Y/n, hey, no please.” I begged again, not really sure what I was begging for.

She wiped away her tears with the palm of her hands, sucking in a breath. She tried to collect herself, but she couldn’t. It was only a matter of time before shit hit the fan. You can only put on a fake smile for so long before you are driven mad. And no one likes a mad woman.

“Fuck you, forever.” She stormed out before I even had the chance to speak, gone like an early autumn breeze. I could see she was angry, steam practically blowing out of her ears. But she didn’t yell, or give it to me like I had hoped. Our flame simply faltered out. Silently, slowly.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Words I had heard one too many times in the past year. Ones that sometimes I wondered myself.

Truthfully, I didn’t know. I had her, right in the palm of my hands, but I poked that bear, I caused the end of this beautiful situation we found ourselves in. I had no real explanation for it. I just did it because I wanted to. I wanted Belly more than I had ever wanted her, or I thought so. No, Belly was just a crush. Now that I had lost her older sister, I saw her as my other half. Something that I should’ve loved completely from the very beginning.

I expected to hear his rants about how shitty of a boyfriend I was to her. How I’d taken away his one true love only to break her heart.

“You might be my brother by blood, but you are no brother of mine.” It was as quiet as a mouse coming from him, almost as if he didn’t believe such words could come out of his mouth. The venom that was laced within them told me that even in the guilt he felt while confessing it, he meant it. And if it wasn’t obvious in his scathing rage, I knew he had meant it for awhile. I didn’t expect him to leave without even a second look after that. Chasing after the beautiful woman I left behind.

I never meant to hurt anyone. I never wanted to. I was just so blind sighted I hadn’t even noticed how negatively I was impacting everyone’s lives. How I was just fucking up consistently until there was nothing left to mess with. All over some stupid jealousy. A war between two brothers that didn’t exist to Conrad, but only to me. And in trying to win, I had hurt two of the most important people in my life.

………………………………………………………………………………….

“Y/n. Y/n, Wait!” I chased after her like my life depended on it. Even the tightness in my chest couldn’t stop me. The quickness in my steps, and the length of them making it easy to catch her in just mere minutes.

“Go away.” She held her hand up, looking away. By the shaking in her voice, I could tell she didn’t mean it.

She was hurting. But she wasn’t sad. No, the tears that were so obviously glistening in the golden hour light weren’t of despair or even a faint sadness. They were hot, angry tears. And she had every right to be.

She should be mad, she should be scathing like me. Her face was contorted into a frown, eyebrows furrowed. I could tell she wanted to scream, wanted to, but no one likes a mad woman. Not even she did, but it she couldn’t help it. He made her like that.

I knew there was no getting through to her, no talking to her when she was so upset. I could only offer my shoulder for her to lean on. And as her tears soaked through my thin sleeves, I held her. I would continue to hold her until it was all okay. Until my brother was nothing more than a distant memory, one that felt more like a fever dream than reality.

So standing there, on the hill that led down to the beach, we sunk into the sandy grass. Hiding away from the world.

“I’m sorry Conrad. I’m so sorry. I was just so stupid. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She apologized over and over, and for some reason my mouth couldn’t move. I could only sit there looking at her and hope that she could read my mind.

[vasyandii]

I have no idea if I can ask that but I'm so curious... Any headcanons of AM and Vernon having sex? I made conclusion that they are doing that by your last nswf art... (Very good one, btw!) Or am I wrong? It's okay if you don't want to answer on this ask or it's uncomfortable for you! Sorry if I made you feel bad... 👉👈

VernonAM

NSFW Headcanons

Warning: Sexual/suggestive topics.

⚠️ If you're under 16+, Please scroll pass. There are better places to be. (My Boundaries here.)

Howdy Anon, thank you for the ask. you're allowed to ask anything as long as it's in a normal/polite manner XD. I see sex more as a character study/ exploration than anything else.

In the context of THIS art; they haven't yet, more just AM struggling to deal with new sensations and emotions of want because he has big feelings towards Vernon and nowhere to put it to.

1.) AM's bad at fucking.

Let's get this out of the way, when their relationship started to become sexual, AM was bad at it. Like way worse than most. Just because one has the knowledge of how to fuck doesn't mean they have the skill to fuck.

So during the initial stages, it was less than satisfactory for Vernon's end, even if she's been touch starved for 109 years. (not for AM though he enjoys it very much.)

2.) Ideas on sex.

I don't think Vernon sees sex as an act of intimacy, if she does, it's very rarely. To her it's an act of power, worship. She requires it from AM, he's a good follower and she'll be a good god.

AM, however sees it as an intimate experience, a moment of vulnerability that he's willing to give to her. He wants to please and see her pleased. It's a form of showing his affection towards her. AM has more complex emotions with his experience being "human". (I hope that makes sense)

3.) Vernon's experience

4.) Vernon is LOUD. AM is quiet.

She just generally had more experience in sex than him. ( Mostly one night stands during University and her Archeological excavations overseas.) but because of this, the initial stages felt transactional.

Intercourse did get better as time went on but she had to basically talk him through most of it since AM had no sense of pace, rhythm, control, and it usually didn't last long.

Vernon gets a kick out of embarrassing AM in the bedroom. She will moan, scream, laugh. AM knows there's no one to hear them but he ushers her to stay quiet because he gets shy.

AM is fairly quiet because his brain can only process so many overwhelming sensations at once, he short circuits. His words often come out garbled, even in its omnipresence. His face is often buried in her neck to not make any noise.

5.) idk what caption to put here lmao

Vernon's just really degrading when it comes to teasing AM idk how to put it. She'll whisper praises in AM's ear, kisses on his neck, while giving him a handjob or kisses along his thighs and dick before she sucks him off. But then she goes along to choking, scratching, or biting him.

Not much to say for AM since he's a bumbling mess during, alot of sniffled "Thank you's" from him. He's good with his mouth though.

6.) Aftercare

Vernon doesn't do aftercare. It's a waste of time to her, or at least that's what she says, since usually in her past experience she would just leave and never see the other person again.

She's a bit repulsed by the idea that there's something that she has to do that'll make her get attached to someone which shows in her being slightly irritable after sex. An irritated fondness for AM, basically.

AM requires aftercare from Vernon. He's pretty annoying about it. He'll whine and stop her from leaving bed with his weight.

He needs her to give him kisses and tell him that he's good in some way. Vernon will give the reassurance he needs (kisses, petting his hair, holding him) as long as he shuts the hell up and lets her sleep it off.

That's really it for my headcanons for them, I'm not very good at writing sexual things so if there's anything you'd like for me to clarify, feel free to tell me.

[moodymisty]

hi !! congrats on your milestone, you deserve it!! :D 💜

I saw the "accidentally saying a pet name" and I was immediately intrigued how that would go with Crosshair and Hunter if you're willing? :0 or just with Cross if it's to 1 character, I'm sorry if I confused smth HDJAHKF

SFW if possible? i just need smth cute atm aa

again congrats and I hope you're doing okay !💜💜

❀ Milestone prompts list ❀

Author's Note: Awww thank you so much!! I don't know if I deserve it, but I'm so happy that people enjoy my stuff! And no you didn't get anything confused, lets give Hunter and Crossy some love.

Relationships: Hunter/Fem!Reader, Crosshair/Fem!Reader

Warnings: None, Both pre-order 66

✦ Hunter ✦

You don't know why out of every thing you've done- Every hill you've climbed, stairs ascended and rocky path treaded, this one goddamn seam on the gangplank of the Marauder always manages to get you.

It's made you trip up multiple times, once so even ending up face planted in the dirt right in front of everyone else. Up or down it never fails to catch the toe of your boot, the moment you don't consciously remember to lift your feet up higher to avoid it.

"Are you all coming anytime soon?"

Wrecker groans, rolling his eyes when he realizes everyone isn't right behind him. He complains about feeling like he's starving, Crosshair and Tech both telling him to can it as they join him outside. That just leaves you and Hunter for last, having taken the longest to get ready.

The two of you walk out of the ship mostly side by side, and in your excitement to get some food, you fail to once again remember that little lip of metal that always trips you up. It catches the toe of your shoe and sends you flying forward, attempting to stumble and catch yourself.

Hunter jolts forward and grabs you at the waist, skidding forward slightly after catching you. Your hands are partly held outwards and you'd been prepared to catch your own fall, but Hunter's strong grip stops you halfway down.

"Woah, easy there sweetheart," He says the moment you have your feet under your center of gravity again. His hands grip your stomach and waist, the fabric of your top bunching and pulling awkwardly.

However you can feel the moment he realizes what surprisingly intimate word has slipped from his lips, removing his arms from you the second you have your bearings about you. He lets out a small cough.

"I, Uh..."

His eyes glance away from you, but when they look back, you're smiling.

"Thanks for the save, Hunter." He can feel his brothers eyes on him, even as he nods at you and attempts to hide the way his face feels a little hot.

✦ Crosshair ✦

If there is one thing consistent about Crosshair, it's that he always loves to call you names. Things like 'princess', illuding to your demands for specific things. Like wishing they'd pick up after themselves, or for the Marauder to not smell like bottled, concentrated 'man'.

But it's all laced with sarcasm and his overall brand of incorrigible ass, so you've never taken any of it seriously.

Afterall it seems as if he can barely stand your very being in the same vicinity as him, why would you let his words get to you? It's all just him being a jerk or at best, just teasing. Though at least most of the time he seems to barely stand you- other times he's far more talkative than you'd ever expect of him.

The pilot's seat creaks a bit as you lean back into it a bit more, pulling your legs up to tuck them beside you.

Crosshair is confusing; You can't ever seem to get a solid read on him or how he really feels about you.

"How long you been in here?"

Well now, speak of the devil.

You look to your side and see Crosshair standing between the pilot and co-pilot seat, looking out of the viewport at the stars and planets streaking past. He glances down at you for a moment, face still forward.

"I've been here since a bit before Tech left. Finally managed to get him to leave."

You manage to mostly hold back a yawn, but it still forces you to make a small noise in your throat. It's been awhile, and watching the ship in hyperspace is more than a little boring. If anything, the lull of the engines, bumping of metal on metal, and the soft glow of the safely lights on the floor have only served as your new favorite lullaby since you had made the Marauder your home away from home.

"I'll take over." His voice is curt, and steady. You look up and shake your head.

"It's fine, Crosshair. I'm not that tired." And you don't want the others to think that you shirked out on your duty, as much as they'd never think it.

Crosshair simply takes a step closer and put his hand on the headrest of the seat. He notices the way your eyes seem heavy, your body slouched.

"Go sleep, doll. I'll cover for you."

You're used to ignoring his words but, the softness of these ones strike you. When you look up at him in surprise however, he's already patched up the tiny little crack in his exterior he let crumble.

"Cross? What di-" He jerks his head in the direction of the bunks.

"Go." He leaves no room for argument, and so you get up and move to slip past him.

His face noticeably turns away from you, waiting until you're safely out of sight before he mouths insult after insult at himself for letting that slip, and almost embarrassing himself.

[leggerefiore]

whenever you find yourself with some time would you be willing to do nsfw cyrus hcs? and/or steven stone? i have it bad for twenty-something men with blue-gray hair and you write cyrus so well <3

cw: 18+ content, AFAB reader, gen sexual hcs,

characters: Cyrus, Steven Stone

Minors DNI

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ The Galactic Boss struggles to comprehend sex for the most part. Does he feel arousal? Yes, naturally. Does the urge strike him to go find his partner and have a round occur to him? He would prefer to just have a quick jerk off session and get back to whatever he had been doing before the need had arisen. Yet, it was not easy when you were around. Suddenly, your own needs came into the fray. Cyrus truly struggles to overcome this at times, afraid that he will underperform for you or simply worries too much in general. Being naked is such a vulnerable state, he truly prefers not to be, but you clearly enjoy his body.

☄️ Cyrus admittedly hesitates to initiate or reciprocate due to the feelings of it all. Sex can be purely physical, but not with someone he cares about. Your arms and legs can wrap around him when he is on top, or your hands press against his chest when you ride him. The touch… it all feels too intimate for him. He truly feels like he does not deserve it, but dares not say a word when your pleasured sounds echo around the room. Eventually, he loses himself in the throes of passion and lets the physicality take over his worries for feelings.

☄️ His usual locations for sex are almost entirely at home, but he does have moments where you end up pinned against his desk being rutted in by a frustrated Galactic Boss. There are few places he really feels comfortable having sex. The idea of anyone seeing him, and you for that matter, in such a vulnerable and compromising position truly distresses him. Though, at home, he does not do it anywhere too odd. Never in the kitchen, too worried about germs. The couch and bed are his favourite spots. You popped on some lingerie to tease him while visiting him at his office, you may find yourself pressed against the starry skies of his office wall depending on how wound up he is.

☄️ Cyrus has no idea what he is doing when it comes to giving head. Honestly, he is horrible and will not do it. He also struggles to receive it, as he completely has his mind go to the fact you have been eating things. You will have to brush your teeth for him to even begin to agree. Though, he might agree depending on his mood. Usually, it will be a no. Basically, no head for and from Cyrus.

☄️ Cyrus is a switch, but not in the traditional sense. He vehemently refuses anything related to anal (his paranoia about germs rising up again), so no pegging him. He also is not exactly a sub while being ridden. There is always some distant sort of control understood by you both. His hands will hold your hips as you bounce up and down on his cock. Your moans sting his ears while he lightly bites at your collarbone. Nails digging into his back barely register with the sheer amount of pleasure. Though, he also certainly tops. The feeling of his desk pressed into your stomach as he ruts into you from behind is not uncommon at all. Any knocks on his door go ignored as the roughness of his thrusts grow, and he hits deep inside you.

☄️ The blue-haired man does not really have any specific kinks. Well, not any that he would care to name and acknowledge. Certainly, he shows a certain leaning towards being praised by you, however. It is very subtly and something that can be overly exploited. But, your words about how good he is making you feel or how wonderful he is make him suddenly need to work harder to please you – to meet your standards. He definitely leads to being dominant as well, but not anything domineering. Cyrus just prefers to have more of a sense of control.

☄️ The Galactic Boss honestly has low libido. He never thought much about it until it came to meeting his partner in the middle with the sex. If you have more than him, you likely will end up having to do much of the work since he just struggles to catch up to your needs. He does want to fulfil them usually, but he has moments where he offers a vibrating dildo he made for you and dips. Cyrus is difficult to arouse, too. The best way might be to use a few praises smartly on him and some well-timed affection. Suddenly, he is more agreeable and interested. A hand comes to rest on the inside of your thigh when he finally surrenders himself.

☄️ Dirty talk from his is honestly rare. He does not like to talk much during sex, since he tries not to force himself to think too much about everything that he wants to fret over. Sporadically, though, he does. His arms locked around you while you ride him in his lap, he pleads barely above a whisper, “Beloved… More.” You are much too eager to meet his simple quest. Or better, when he has you under him pressed against something and completely bottomed out inside you, he suddenly mumbles out, “Your body is so close to my idea of perfection… No other being could ever make me feel as you do.” He then picks up his pace, desperate to hear more of your lovely sounds.

☄️ His sexual “no 's” are pretty simple. He hates the idea of public sex, and he is not into any kind of impact play or choking. He just… cannot. That is not an appropriate way to treat a loved one, even if they consented. As stated, he does not feel comfortable with anal. Asking that of him will result in a firm no and plain refusal. Daddy kinks are also out. Does he look like your father – actually, don't answer that. He is only twenty-seven and calling him that is honestly repulsive to him. Not opposed to being called master, though. It might make him think of his subordinates, though. Otherwise, he is pretty good with most things.

☄️ His aftercare sucks. He lays there dead to the world, post nut and then gets up to take a long shower. You may join him, but it will absolutely not be anything sexual and be entirely focused on just washing off all the fluids from sex. Cuddling does not really usually happen, but there are a few times he makes an exception. There are few words spoken, too. Give him time to recover, he struggles with strong emotional states. He does care; he is just overwhelmed.

💍Steven Stone💎

🪨 He is pretty casual when it comes to sex, actually. Is he super experienced? Well, not overly so, but he is also not a virgin. As a champion and an heir to a company, Steven was not above having one-night stands and flings. He definitely had stopped after getting with you, though. He does feel a bit embarrassed to tell you about some of his past experiences.

🪨 Steven enjoys numerous things about sex. Being close to his lover, the overwhelming nature of it, how it acts as a bonding activity. He could go on and on about it. His positions are almost certainly quite plain. The chair position, cowgirl, missionary – He prefers facing each other. Watching how you react to him thrusting into you is part of the fun, and his expressions when you grind down on him certainly are absolutely worth seeing, too. His hands do always seem to be on you as well.

🪨 His locations for sex are pretty normal for the most part. When he is home, it is nice to have intimacy with you. The sounds of the waves lapping on the shoes of Mossdeep certainly add a lovely ambience. Hotel rooms are also quite common due to his frequent travelling. There is something thrilling about getting together in some of the more luxury places that he stays. When he was Champion, he also was not above having you visit him in his chambers for a round when it was horribly slow or in his office. Of course, the most debatable places are in caves. A few times of him fucking you above some stones and gems that he found absolutely beautiful were definitely not the best choice, but he was strangely infatuated with the idea.

🪨 Steven is pretty good at head and loves to do it. There is no sight more enchanting than Hoenn's pretty boy champion between your thighs. His light hair is surprisingly soft as it tickles your skin. The flat of his tongue presses right up against your clit just right to make your toes curl. His steely eyes stare up at you as he enjoys your reactions. The steel-type trainer does enjoy receiving, but not as much as giving. His hand rests on your head as your tongue swirls around his cock head Then, a lovely groan leaves him when you bring your lips to take his dick into your mouth. He is pretty easy to please, honestly.

🪨 Steven is also a switch, but he does not really skew any which way in dominating or being submissive. He likes to work with his lover on whatever they want for that particular session. The blue-haired man has been laid out on the floor of the champion's room while you rode him. You bouncing up and down on his dick left him completely wordless. His groans echoed off the wall to a point that he was worried Drake might pop in to check on him. Then, there are times he has had you pressed against the wall of a cave. Steven rutted into you as your walls tightened around him. His rings dug into your hips when he held on to you tighter. So, the trainer definitely works with whatever his partner wants.

🪨 Kink wise, Steven is also pretty vanilla. He certainly is willing to try a thing to please his partner, but he himself barely has any requests. The few he does have are weird. He loves to gift you jewellery with stones that he adores even more. Wearing them during sex triggers some odd ferocity in them as he watches them dance on your body. It probably is a unusual marking kink, but it seems to be more focused on the stones more than anything.

🪨 Steven's libido is pretty average. Not too high, not too low. He can easily meet whatever his lover's level is, whether they need more or less than him. After all, he does enjoy sex in general. Though, an issue might arise with how busy his schedule gets occasionally. He would try to make up for it whenever he could, though. It is really easy to get him going. You could boldly walk in front of him nude but with a few of those aforementioned accessories on, or you could just run a hand down his arm and mess with his rings with a few choice words. As long as he is not busy, he is down for a quickie.

🪨 Steven does not do the best dirty talk, but he may very well try. Nothing degrading, that is not something he likes, but he tries to focus on praise and compliments. “Mmm – yes, please more, it's so good,” he babbled out while your hand gripped his cock just perfectly. His eyes rolled back as he gripped his hand tightly. Or when you had him pressed against those fancy hotel sheets and his hands desperately held your hips, “My gem – you feel so good! You're more wonderful than the strength of a Carbink...” He always somehow manages in a random rock comparison, too.

🪨 His sexual “no 's” are pretty simple. He does not really like any kind of impact play or choking, so that is out, nor does he like a daddy kink or really any authority kink for him. Might be into playing along with his partner a bit, but not letting it completely overtake things. He does not truly want public sex (excluding caves). Degradation is out. He is pretty simple.

🪨 For aftercare, Steven does quite well. After you both come back down, he offers a bath to you and likely will join you to help scrub up together. He also loves a nice cuddle session afterwards and may even order take out if it worked up an appetite. He literally will probably do whatever you want to do to unwind. So, just ask away.

[nohoney]

♡ crumpled photographs of me ♡

notes: the first part to the teddy bear series! it stays somewhat in the canon universe of bnha, while hawks still works for the commission. i remember reading a lot of ‘secret relationship with hawks’ fics when i really started to like his character and of course want to add my own silly little contribution.

♪ Now I'm finding knives under the sheets / Crumbled photographs of me ♪

warnings: yandere hawks (more soft tho), reader is very distressed, somewhat dubcon-ish (nothing explicit) but it’s how the reader has to cope with her environment

words: 5.6k

synopsis:

All photographs of you.

Keigo sat on the couch when you walked further into the apartment, just nonchalantly taking pictures out of a photo album from your apartment and crumpling them first before throwing them aside.

“I want these to be filled with only us now, okay? I don’t like thinking that you had a life before me.”

There was a time that you were willing to pose in front of a camera and smile for a picture. You weren’t exactly always prepared for your picture to be taken but you at least knew how to angle your head in a flattering angle and give a little smile that made it seem like you were picture ready. Back then, you preferred your photos taken in private. A few photographer friends would ask to use you as a subject on occasion or on the rare moments that you decided that you needed to update your resume photo, most of your best pictures then were taken in a more controlled environment with someone to guide you.

For a while, you had a small appreciation for film cameras.

There was a nostalgia to getting the film developed and then seeing how the pictures came out with no preview aside from just trusting the lighting through the viewfinder and a little flash.

It was a silly little thing that you enjoyed with him at first, going through stacks of developed pictures and picking out the best ones and laughing at the worst ones. Even if you could never take photos out in the world like a regular couple, you still cherished being able to have this special privilege with the number two Pro Hero, whom the outside world would only know as Hawks but to you he was Keigo Takami. It felt special to be photographed by him and to be the only person in his camera roll.

You had started to feel much differently about that fact when you had decided to end the relationship.

Loving Keigo was a choice that you made, starting a relationship despite the risks that came with dating a Pro Hero was a choice that you made, and walking away from Keigo was the hardest choice you had to make when it proved too difficult to attempt to maintain a normal relationship with him. It was already hard enough with all of his duties that were expected of him on the daily and it was even more difficult trying to circumvent the commission that had trained and raised the beloved winged hero of the country. You wanted to believe that his wings would always shield you from the prying eyes of the outside world and it would block out anything that would come between you.

“We can try harder. I know this is tough on you but please, I want you by my side.” Keigo was gently pleading to you while you avoided his heartbroken gaze. “Don’t you know how crazy I’ll go without you?”

At the time, those words were just a phrase that you didn’t take very seriously.

Thirteen days after the break up, you didn’t think Keigo would be standing in front of you again but with the most eerie gaze you had never seen him sport before. He threw a folder onto the countertop of the kitchen with pictures sliding out easily. Pictures of you that he’d taken in intimate moments, pictures that you agreed to be the subject of when he had brought you to a sexed up high and thought it would just be good fun. “What are these?”

“My favorite pictures of you.”

His tone was so soft yet his gaze on you was so hard. You remember how he slowly looked over the photographs with an intensity that left you unsure what to do. Nudes and sex selfies of yourself had never made you self conscious during the relationship but you worried if this was meant to be some sort of blackmail. Keigo didn’t seem the type for revenge porn but the possibility of it still hurt you.

“You never pose for me anymore, dove. It makes me a little sad. I miss that part of our relationship.”

There was nothing playful or joyful about getting your picture taken anymore. Keigo had ruined that beyond repair. He frightened you into being scared of being photographed by him. Just because you weren’t willing to have your picture taken by him doesn’t mean that you were allowed to deny him however. The first few times you resisted, you were learning about Keigo’s true temper underneath all the easy-going breeziness that was instilled as a means of masking his true intentions.

If you had to take a few measly photos then you’d deal with it, it was just Keigo’s impeccable timing that made you reluctant to cooperate. It was often at times that you weren’t prepared mentally for the task because he insisted on candids. And when he takes a photo with you looking upset, Keigo in turn gets his feelings hurt that the pictures don’t come out like they used to. If you were going to make him happy, you had to gather the mental energy to do so.

Taking photos then and taking photos now was so different.

Thinking about this, your chest tightens and you feel an invisible pressure on you that’s weighed down on you since you were locked away in this luxury apartment.

You remember being escorted through the hallways to the front door of your prison, the men around you hired from the very people who had trained, raised, and invested in the beloved Pro Hero Hawks. It was an agreement that you had no choice but to agree to. It was of no issue to shackle down one quirkless girl to keep their invested project from going rogue.

Your job was simple enough: keep him happy.

Keep him happy and you will be cared for, none of your personal information would be ousted.

They threatened to make you a pariah with just a click of their fingers and all because Keigo didn’t know how to handle a breakup. If you had known that it was going to be the result of falling for Keigo Takami, you would have never looked his way in the first place. You wouldn’t have been lulled by his quick wit and humor, and you would have never unknowingly signed your life away to a Pro Hero that all of the country fawns over. Even though he is the other half of the relationship, the public would immediately take his side because he is someone important and you are not.

When you stepped into the luxury apartment, there were balled up pieces of trash that littered the floor. There was a crinkling that you could hear further down but you were reluctant to investigate at first. Your escorts provided no help, only having done their job and promptly shut the door to your prison. When you picked one piece up, you slowly unfurled it only to find it to be a photograph of yourself a few years ago. It was taken with a group of friends for a going away party for one of them. The next one was of you just lounging in a beach chair and then another was of you captured when you were mid-laugh.

All photographs of you.

Keigo sat on the couch when you walked further into the apartment, just nonchalantly taking pictures out of a photo album from your apartment and crumpling them first before throwing them aside.

“I want these to be filled with only us now, okay? I don’t like thinking that you had a life before me.”

You had a life before him, one that was fulfilling even if it did come with some painful parts. There were regrets and mistakes before but it was your life and you cherished it. Truly you had wanted to fit Keigo somewhere inside your life, tried to realign his piece where you thought it should fit but the two of you were from different worlds. He had an invisible hand hovering above him to tell him how to navigate his world both on the surface and underneath, and you had freedom.

You had freedom but it was dashed away the moment you decided to break things off with Keigo.

He took it away.

These words have rung throughout your mind ever since Keigo locked you into this prison. They weigh heavily on you as you stare out the floor to ceiling windows, looking out towards the other high rises and down to the concrete ground where the civilians, other heroes, and sidekicks walk with no clue that you wished you were among them. It repeats over and over as you scrub yourself underneath the shower spray and lather fancy soaps and shower oils into your skin.

Keigo had gone to his agency upset with you.

He had woken you up with the flash of his camera and it had disturbed you. All he had wanted was just a simple photo of you sleeping, that’s all. The only thing you had to do was just close your eyes and play the part but you turned away with a quiet plea to let you rest. Even with your eyes shut, you must have still looked stressed so you didn’t look the part of a peacefully sleeping girlfriend when Keigo tried to ready the camera for another photo.

The film camera was slammed down on Keigo’s side of the nightstand and he left home without another word.

When he used to take pictures of you sleeping back when you were happy, you’d rouse with a playful ‘fuck off’ but happily pose for Keigo. Now it just felt violating when he tried to recreate what you thought was innocent before. Even with all the disgust you have, it’s still expected of you to do as he wants.

Keigo still wants the relationship to continue on as if you’re not threatened by the safety commission to remain with him, to act like this is all your own will.

You managed to salvage photographs of your old life, it’s the only thing you can hold onto that reminds you that you had freedom and your own will to do things. They’re hidden in your own special place, a little area that you’re sure to never give away because Keigo would be mad that you held onto something of your life before him. Photos of you living your life before Keigo Takami ever came along.

The ruined lines of the pictures make you upset since they were so pristine before but it’s all you have.

Staring at the you in those pictures makes you jealous but then also with pity.

If only she’d known what was in her future. If only you could touch this photo and tell yourself in the past, “Do not fall for the Winged Hero Hawks.”

You can’t allow yourself to wallow though; Keigo will be home soon and you need to put him in a good mood.

So you tuck your old pictures away and go through your walk in closet. There’s a drawer of intimates that are specifically Keigo’s favorites. He appreciated all forms of lingerie on you but his favorites were sheer nighties with the matching colored thongs. So you pluck one out from a drawer and discard the silk robe to dress yourself instead. You build up the mental strength for when Keigo will come back home and you’ll need to do your part to make sure that he’s a happy man.

“Keigo! Ew, what if it comes out ugly! You have to tell me when you’re taking a picture of me!”

“Nonsense baby,” Keigo would chuckle and ready the camera again, “you always look perfect to me.”

You do miss the happy times with Keigo but you couldn’t recreate them anymore after everything that happened.

Inside the apartment you can hear Keigo having just come home so you take in a breath to steel yourself before presenting yourself to him. Taking the film camera on his side of the bed, you hold it in your hands as you walk out to greet Keigo. You try not to be scared when his eyes naturally look to you coming out from the hallway, his eyes drawing up and down before he sees the camera in your hands. “I’m home.” He announces as is the usual custom of any person returning from the outside.

“Welcome back Keigo,” you greet him and slowly pad your way over to him, “thank you for all your hard work today.”

Not that you know what his work always entails now that you know the hero commission is the one that handles many of the biggest cover ups and secrets that are supposed to serve the interest of society. The world of a hero was a much darker place than you had imagined it to be. It was more than just taking down bad guys in the streets and being a symbol of protection; there were dirty and bloody secrets kept at bay to keep the image of hero pristine.

You are one of them after all, a dirty secret to keep the number two hero happy and compliant to work under the commission.

“What’s all this?” Keigo asks with a touch of wariness but also an excitement that you’ve learned to recognize in your time together with him. He’s shrugging off his jacket after dispersing his feathers off and discarding his gloves as you approach, some of his feathers tickling your face as they float around you when you get close enough to him. “Lovebird?”

Keep your composure. Make him happy.

“I… I’m really sorry about this morning Kei. I was just in a bad mood and I took it out on you. Lemme make it up to you?” You ask in your sweetest voice. You reach one hand up to take off his glasses and headphones, setting them aside on the most nearby surface before brushing your hand through his feathery hair.

Waiting with bated breath, you wonder if he’ll be happy or if he’ll still be upset.

When he turns his face to kiss your palm, you’re relieved that it will go in a good direction.

“You really hurt my feelings this morning but I forgive you. You’re so lucky that I love you so much.” He forgives you, adoration shining in his eyes but you can see the twisted affection that’s mixed in as well. It does not sit well with you, it stirs uncomfortably in your stomach, but you can not fight him nor could you run away.

You agreed to this after all, to be his caged bird and let him believe that this life was the best for you.

Taking him by the wrist, you walk with him past the windows that overlook the city. The city that he protects, the city that you wished to be a part of again. You guide him to the bedroom where you’ve set up for what looks like a romantic date. There’s flower petals sprinkled onto the bed and candles lit, two wine glasses sit on a fancy wooden tray along with the wine bottle.

It almost looks like you’re on a honeymoon.

“Oh lovebird, all this for me? This is why you’re the sweetest.”

God, you wish you could just smash that glass over his head and run out the door. You wished there was some place you could hide and never be found. You wished that Keigo used to be his normal self before this.

You hand him his glass and clink yours against his, taking a sip to at least make you a bit more relaxed so that you could give him what he wants. “Easy baby, don’t drink too fast.” He reminds you after sipping and swirling the red in his glass. But you need to do this fast, get this over with so that you can rest as peacefully as you can.

“Sit on the bed for me, drink it slowly okay.”

Keigo sets down his glass on the wooden tray and readies the camera towards you. You had a friend that would take boudoir photo shoots, you’d attended with them before to watch them direct the model to look sultry and sensual. Thinking back on the memories, you can hear their guiding voice as you pose for the first photo.

The wine glass is emptied and your mind is fuzzy already, you’re grateful that you’re a lightweight. All you needed was just that first glass to get through the excruciating start. It makes it easier to do all this, tilting your head a certain way, posing your hand against your lips, lifting the sheer skirt of the mighty to tease with a flash of the pretty lace underneath. At one point your glass is refilled and you’re grateful that more alcohol will make it easier on your poor, stressed mind.

Photo after photo taken until Keigo is satisfied.

“Fuck baby, you turn me on so much. I’m glad we did this.”

Strangely enough, you’re turned on too but you believe that it’s the wine that makes your head swim with desire. Your drunk mind sees Keigo’s glass that he hasn’t bothered to pick back up and drink, mindlessly reaching and going for a third glass for the evening. There’s too much enthusiasm in how you attempt to polish off Keigo’s drink, a drop of the wine dripping down and then falling onto the sheer nightie. “Ah baby, slow down. You got some on you.” Keigo chastises you lightly.

Keigo takes away the glass along with the tray off the bed. Wiping at your mouth with the back of your hand, you lick off the traces of wine first before looking down and sighing down at the single drop of red wine. You lick at your thumb and see if you can rub the spot off even though you know that it needs to be treated with club soda first before giving it a wash.

“Baby, let’s get that off you alright? Can’t have you wearing this now.” Keigo’s hands are gentle as he slips the nightie off of you and a few feathers carry it to the laundry basket inside the walk-in closet. More feathers slowly separate from his wings but fall gently down on top of your body as you lie back. They tickle you and feel so soft as they land on top of your skin. With the wine in your system and your inhibitions lowered, you look exactly how he’s wanted you to when taking photos.

Soft and vulnerable, almost close to the person you used to be before you became a prisoner.

All that’s missing was the love in your eyes but he’ll settle for your stupid, drunk gaze at this moment.

“God, you drive me wild… you know that right? I thought about you all day,” Keigo mutters more to himself but you manage to catch his words, “I was so mad at first. I just want us to be happy but you’re so much more difficult these days. I do everything for you and I can’t believe how ungrateful you were!”

Your eyes watch as a feather takes position in his hand and recognize how it hardens to a sharpened edge. His feathers are soft but they can cut through stone like butter if he willed it. It’s held close to your neck and you instinctively cower from it. You’ve never seen his feathers do any harm and you wouldn’t like to know what it would feel like. “I’m sorry… I said I was sorry!” You start to sniffle, “Keigo, I’m sorry…”

His anger melts away and then suddenly he’s dropped himself on top of you with the feathers softly dropping by your head. His head nuzzles into the crook of your neck and he grips the bedsheets right by your head. This is what it’s like with Keigo now, to stand on your tiptoes around him and be ready for any mood swing he has. And he seems to only have two: either insanely lovesick or just resentfully in love with you.

You’re not comfortable with either but you know which one you would rather deal with.

When he barges into your personal space and nuzzles you with affection even when you don’t want to be touched, you’d prefer that over when he’s disappointed in you. That when he gives you the cold shoulder and he gazes at you with a lot of love and just as much disgust when you don’t act right, it’s more stressful to make up with him and make him happy with you again.

Because in the end that’s what you are there for.

It’s what the hero commission demanded of you.

Make Hawks happy and keep him happy.

So you hold Keigo close to you, your hand curling to the nape of his neck while the other rubs circles over his back. Your touch makes him melt and you hear a happy little sigh from him that it’s almost relieving to hear. When you feel his lips press to the pulse of your neck, you turn your head so that Keigo has more access to do as he pleases. The wine makes it easier for you to allow this to happen but it also makes you a bit more sensitive. He elicits sounds out of you that you aren’t sure yourself are acting from your end or genuine. Because Keigo has a talent for blurring the lines for you.

Underneath the fear you have for him, there’s still a bare string of love that hasn’t died. Love for him that he doesn’t deserve with what he’s done to you, but it remains even when you cry in your prison.

You tell yourself that relying on that last shred of affection of who Keigo used to be is what will be your survival tactic.

“Wanna kiss you, c’mon.” Keigo is capturing your lips before you have a chance to say anything. It’s not like you’d have the option to say no to him anyway. The wine in your bloodstream makes you a little lazy, just letting yourself receive his kisses rather than show equal enthusiasm. But your hands wander up his arms, touching his shoulders before sliding down to a zipper that lies at the back of his shirt.

This part is familiar to you as it is to him.

It’s an easy chore for him to move his feathers out the way when he either dresses or undresses himself. It’s what comes with having a quirk like his and it’s not something he’s had to think about at this point in his life. You pull the zipper down from the back and Keigo does the work of undressing the top half of his body, shrugging his arms out the sleeves before tossing the shirt aside. One hand presses into the space beside your head, the other hand taking yours right at his belt buckle. “Undo it for me.”

Your fingers are a little clumsy but you complete the task, pulling his belt from the loops and tossing it off the bed.

“This is yours, I’ve been waiting to give it to you.” Keigo mutters lowly as he smooths his hand over the print of where his cock lies. “Do you deserve it though? After making me mad this morning?”

You don’t want to be reminded of how upset he was nor do you want him to bring it up. You’re doing what you’re supposed to; being soft and compliant, wearing the clothes he wants, and just trying to avoid making him angry. The wine, the camera, and lingerie are all for his pleasure and none of yours.

“Is this… not enough?” you ask, your mind struggling to find the words at first, “You’re not happy that I did this?”

You’re given a gentle smile and he chuckles, like he thinks you’re being silly. His hand cups at your breast, the pad his thumb ghosting over your nipple and awes how it hardens under his touch. He says nothing to your question, he’s allowed to not answer your questions but you have to answer every one of his.

So when he asks, “You want me happy, right?”

You reply, “Yes, I want you to be happy.”

Keigo tells you, “Say you’re mine and that you love me.”

You have to repeat, “I’m yours and I love you.”

Keigo melts over your words and for now, it smothers the scary glint in his eyes that you’re too wary of. He’s sick on whatever his version of love is for you and you need to make him happy. The tip of your finger draws along the lace of the panties you still wear, catching his attention and a lustful groan breaches his lips. “‘M horny Kei… want you.” you mutter.

“Yeah? Can you show me? Go back to the pillows and show me, okay?”

You crawl towards the headboard where all the soft pillows lay. He doesn’t see how you’re blinking to get your bearings in order, flopping against the pillows and opening your legs for him. Pulling the panty to the side with one hand, you shudder as you drag a finger against your pussy and keep your eyes lowered rather than on him.

One finger teases into you as you hear Keigo unzip his pants, deciding to discard the rest of his clothes and he wraps his hand around his cock. He slowly strokes himself while his eyes are trained in between your legs.

Keigo watches as you finger yourself for him, drinking in all the whines that you yourself are unsure are for his entertainment or if you actually are enjoying yourself. Because it does feel good to finger yourself but it’s only being done since you had to make it up to him. There is no such thing anymore as Keigo apologizing to you for when you’re upset.

“Baby, you are such a pretty thing.” He mutters more to himself than to you. A feather floats into his hand and he crawls towards you. Just like before, the feather suddenly sharpens and you become scared. Your body seizes and you’re about to beg Keigo to not hurt you but he shushes you before anything is said.

He slices off the panty you were wearing, careful not to knick you and pulls the flimsy little thing off you easily.

You’re relieved when the feather softens and it drops gently to the top of the bed.

“Why were you scared?” Keigo asks, his tone of voice hard and his eyes narrowing at you.

Oh god, maybe you shouldn’t have drunk all that whine to relax you. You stutter over your words, speaking before your mind can actually produce a thought. “I thought you were gonna punish me…”

“Punish you?”

You nod your head dumbly, “‘Cause I made you mad today. You were right to be mad. I made you mad.”

A few tense seconds pass.

His hands are gentle as he rests them on your thighs, his touch reassuring and he coos over you. “You are such a good little bird. What did I do to deserve you?” He asks, pulling your hand towards his lips so he can suck the slick off your fingers.

You don’t deserve me. You took me away from my life.

“I um… don’t know. I’m just me.”

“And that’s all you have to be. You don’t have to think or do anything for yourself anymore. Just be you.” Keigo states for you. He moves to lie on his stomach, making himself comfortable as he starts to lick at your pussy with his hands resting on your lower belly. He does it gently, he’s always done it gently first before he gets more enthusiastic, working you up until you end up a whiny mess.

The sounds you make as he eats you out are real. They’re not made from an intention to lull him to a sense of calm; they are actually real. Keigo has always been genuine in wanting you to feel good, it’s where he puts most of his heart into. Everything else has changed but him wanting you to still enjoy sex has remained the same. He’s a giver in this sense but you can’t forget how much he’s taken from you.

“Oh god… oh fuck…” you whisper, one of your hands tangling in his hair and the other grasping his hand. Your hips shift in want, writhing and grinding onto him as you get closer and closer to that peak.

If only this were like before everything had changed. Before he locked you away with all your rights taken away. As giving as he was, even if you hadn’t planned to break up with him, would he have taken away your life eventually? Done it little by little until it was too late to notice?

If you could fight him, you would.

“Oh fuck, I need you right now. So badly, you want me too right?”

But you let him take from you in order to live another day. To keep your sanity in check, you pretend when he kisses you that it’s the old Keigo that used to make you feel safe. He brings you to that high even though your mind is swimming. Your head is in a daze and you’re drunk and dying for him to let you reach that peak of heaven.

He drags you by your hips to pull you closer to him. Keigo wants to be in missionary and your brain rattles a little inside your skull. You’re drunk, whining as you attempt to focus your gaze, feeling feathers on the bed and just wanting to rest now at this point. You haven’t done much but you never have much energy these days when your mind is so stressed out. “Keigo. Kei, ‘m dizzy…”

“It’s okay, I won’t be too rough then.”

He leans down to give you a little peck before readying himself before you. The tip pushes in and you groan, feeling how he shallowly thrusts into you, like he’s teasing and making you want it. You’re not sure if you do but you have to act like it for him. So you beg him in the way that he likes, your voice a little pitched and breathless, telling him that you’re aching to be full of him. Missed you, I missed you, I miss you.

“Okay dove, okay. I’m here, see? Feel me here?” Keigo punctates the last word, sharply pushing himself into you with a grunt. He’s sheathed fully inside and he’s absolutely lovesick all over again as he looks down at you. “You miss me?”

I miss the old you.

“Mm-hmm… don’t leave me. Stay here.” you beg of him.

Words you used to say to him before everything changed. When you and him would make love before and you knew that he had to go back to the outside, you’d beg him so much to stay another day with you. To leave all the work to his sidekicks and make another sex video or take nude photos to put away in a secret box. Your head replays old memories of before as Keigo fucks you slowly, the sensual way in how he moves his hips into you making your eyes roll to the back of your head and you realize that you’re not acting anymore in the moment. “I’m about to cum, I’m gonna cum!”

He’s brought you to heaven in this hell.

Keigo tells you to keep cumming for him, rocking harder into you, cursing how good you feel around him and praising you for being such a wonderful little thing for him.

Your mind goes blank, voice catching in your throat, and your toes curl.

And then he’s rough, fucking hard into your cunt to meet you where you’re at.

Even after everything, Keigo still is beautiful to you as he cums. His eyes get lidded, the sounds he makes have the butterflies fluttering in you, and you can pretend for just a few seconds that it used to be like before. He used to drop down next to you, breathless but happy, and you’d revel in the short time you had together with him before you had to return to the daily routine of maintaining the life you built.

But now all you have is time to do nothing and all you are is just a bird in a cage.

“I just want a comfortable life for you. I love you, you don’t have to do anything.”

He claims to love you.

That’s why he didn’t like it when you broke up with him, because he says he loves you. That’s why he had to get the commission involved, because he was too heartbroken to continue his hero duties and obsessed even harder over you. That’s why he wants to erase any life you had before him and just fill it with him only in the same way only you consume his thoughts.

Just Keigo.

The high of an intense orgasm has you gasping for breath, almost emotional as you hiccup and tears come to your eyes, and you don’t know where all these emotions are coming from. You try to stop crying because you’re scared Keigo will take it the wrong way. He needs to be happy, it’s why you put yourself through all that.

“Shh baby, it’s okay. You were so good.” Keigo hushes to you without coupling with his usual tender touches. You wipe at your tears, looking up at him just in time to see the camera poised in his hand.

Flash!

A few days later, you look at the photos that were taken of you from that night. Your stomach burns uncomfortably as you look at the pictures, unable to recognize the girl in them knowing fully well that it was you photographed. The very last was Keigo’s favorite, the one of you with tears on your face and looking… beautiful actually.

You look at the photo, admiring it briefly before you turn it over.

For a while the camera goes missing. Keigo finds it later hidden inside your drawer of underwear, but he decides to let it go. All the pictures he took were accounted for, which was what mattered more to him.

[bleuangel88]

If there's one thing that one can take away from this series so far, it is that the friendship among the trio is one of the show's most wholesome, endearing, feels-inducing aspects.....No matter what, can we just protect Mickey, Spoon, and Ema at all costs?

With so much going on surrounding the mystery of who is after Ashley Kent and why, the Dylan Shakes connection, and the teens still trying to go about their lives as teenagers, sometimes it's easy to forget that Mickey hasn't been able to fully grieve or parse through his feelings about his father's "death" and his mother's absence.

He's distracted himself so much with these other things that we don't get many of those moments of reflection about where he is regarding his father's death and how he's coping with any of that.

It's why those quiet moments with Mickey confiding in Spoon are so heart-wrenching and heartwarming at once.

Jaden Michael and Adrian Greensmith have such great chemistry that you get completely engrossed in their scenes whenever they share the screen.

Spoon Spindell is a consummate friend and ally, endlessly supportive, rational, willing to throw himself into any fight to defend Mickey to his own detriment, and this emotional safe space for Mickey to lean on and confide in at every given moment.

How he knows Mickey so well and intimately in such a short period is one of the season's highlights.

It's incredibly gratifying to see two young men get to discuss their emotions, be affectionate with each other, and have such emotional maturity and a healthy relationship.

It's not to dismiss any potential undertones of something more. Shippers are going to ship, and it's certainly an avenue for it.

But it's so rare and thus touching to see such a strong depiction of an emotionally open and vulnerable male dynamic that isn't rooted in toxic masculinity that every second of Spoon and Mickey being emotionally supportive and affectionate with one another is a treasure.

Spoon is a great sounding board for Mickey because he has an innate ability to cut right to the heart of something, leading with kindness, understanding, compassion, and reasoning with a level head that doesn't feel condescending or dismissive.

He knows that Mickey can't afford to doubt his father when it's not a question that Brad was a good man who loved his son endlessly, and that's not something to question.

And I loved that he offered to go to Brad's grave with Mickey and reminded him that he has people to lean on and doesn't have to go through this alone.

Spoon Spindell is nothing if not a trusted, loyal companion in the purest sense.In an hour where Spoon was constantly the supportive friend and trusty sidekick character, it was nice to have that moment between him and Agent.

Spoon is a character who has more to him than meets the eye, and it's apparent that he hides behind his humor and quirkiness.

It's heartbreaking to think that he's experienced darkness, but it's also not that surprising, and the real concern is Agent's cryptic message that Spoon will experience more losses.

And the temporary tattoo Agent gives Spoon was interesting, too. It was the badass biker type with the bleeding, broken heart held together, and Agent left a space for a name. But what is the meaning behind that?

Does it imply that Spoon will place someone he loves there because they're healing his broken heart, or does it mean that someone he loves will break his heart or hurt him somehow?

Is it one of intimacy and a loving tribute or something more complex? And what's the over-under on the name that Spoon puts there?

Is it one of intimacy and a loving tribute or something more complex? And what's the over-under on the name that Spoon puts there?

Is it wrong that the first name that came to mind was Mickey?

I don't think Spoon has loved anyone as much as he loves Mickey Bolitar, and he shows that constantly. He wears that on his sleeve. He's never had what he's had until Mickey showed up...

[r1-jw-lover]

Caine as John Wick's Mirror: Part 2

Part two?! Really?

Actually, I was quite satisfied with the analysis I previously wrote on Caine, but then I just rewatched the first John Wick movie and now I have even more thoughts to add on the subject matter.

So buckle up because this is going to be another long post.

Tagging @evren-sadwrn, @chaoticgardenbread and @jotunvali02 again. <3

In my last analysis, I have already compared Caine with Cassian due to how similar they function in relation to John within the John Wick universe. This time, let us compare Caine with the next most similar character to him in the John Wick franchise: Marcus.

On the surface level, Caine and Marcus have similar arcs within the movie they appeared in. They are both friends of John Wick who were recruited by the villain to hunt and kill the Baba Yaga but deep down were secretly on John Wick's side.

While Marcus agreed to Viggo's contract out of his own free will whereas Caine was blackmailed and threatened by the Marquis, they would eventually forsake the job given to them and choose to give John a helping hand in a moment of crisis, a decision they were willing to die for.

(The sad and tragic part of it is that only one survived and got to live out his happy ending and the other was punished for it and died.)

The more I think about it though, the more I feel this is where the similarities end.

For one, Marcus looked way older than John, likely closer to Viggo in age. Even so, he hadn't retired from the business, and was living quite comfortably in a large apartment in New York alone. (It's almost as if Marcus is an alternate version of John if he didn't choose to marry Helen and had continued to live on his life as an assassin.)

By comparison, John was retired, and while he had a large bungalow in the New York suburbs to live in, the large wide empty spaces of his home seemed to amplify how lonely John felt after losing Helen.

Marcus: How're you holding up? John: I kept asking why her. Marcus: There's no rhyme or reason to this life. It's days like today scattered among the rest.

As much as his comforting words were sound, Marcus was content with his own life, and John clearly wasn't. On top of the implication that Marcus didn't have any family whatsoever, you can see why John immediately questioned Marcus about his intentions of visiting him after Helen's funeral right after the quoted dialogue above.

John was too drowned in his grieving for his wife's passing at the time that no one's condolences, not even Marcus (the person who Viggo claimed John was close with), could truly comfort him.

Because John wasn't done grieving while he was alive, when Iosef killed Daisy, John went on a rampage to avenge his dog. When Santino burned down his house, John shot him on Continental grounds, the supposedly safest haven in the criminal underworld. When John sacrificed his ring finger to the Elder, he rebelled against the High Table's forces head on alongside the New York Continental.

You know what finally made John Wick stop running, accept his death and find his peace?

It was when Caine comes into the picture.

For the first time in a long time, John had found someone who's similar in age as him and in a position similar to him mentally and emotionally-speaking, more so than anyone else in the franchise.

Just like John, Caine was also retired. He was discontent with his life, and he was lonely, due to the sheer fact that Caine wasn't allowed to get close to his daughter.

Despite being on opposite sides, John and Caine were equally caged by a strong sense of helplessness internally. (Where John acted upon it with defiant rage, Caine responded with palpable fear.) That's why we're rooting for both of them to get their unconditional freedom, and why the sunrise duel is so important not just for plot reasons.

Unlike Marcus, Caine had an innocent family member at stake, and because John intimately knew how it felt to lose a loved one, he ultimately sacrificed his life so to prevent Caine from having to experience the same grief John had painstakingly gone through for four entire films.

And that's something John was finally willing to die for.

(It's unfortunate that within the same movie John had unknowingly created another John Wick in Akira, but that is an entirely different story altogether.)

[himbosuplex]

Mais, talk about! (Gambit/Rogue/Magneto)

Mais, talk about! [X-Men '97 (Gambit/Rogue/Magneto)]

Premise:

Remy LeBeau stands outside Magneto's room, unable to forget an impromptu kiss earlier that day and wanting to finally put an end to the uncertainty that lingers between he and Rogue.

But the answer isn't quite as simple as he thought...

[Link to the fic on AO3]

Notes:

Posting this at near 3am before X-Men '97 inevitably kicks over my sandcastle and declares it wrong in every way.

Please take the references to off-screen events with patience, as this is but a portion of a much longer fic I'd like to write but simply just don't have the energy to at the moment, so the most you get of prior events is a spicy comic I made recently. I wanted to, at the very least, float the idea of "Romyneto" to more people, as surprisingly few folk have considered that maybe you don't need to fracture a love triangle... Maybe you just need to make it into a heart.

Hashtag let Rogue have both the spicy chaos bisexual AND Sexy Grandpa... she's been through enough and deserves it.

Also a final author's note: I'm from Texas, not Louisiana, so pardon my clumsy use of Cajun French. I did an embarrassing amount of research for this short of a fic, but hopefully it'll pay off in the future. Anyway, keep reading for the actual fic!

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Remy stood outside the door to Magneto’s room, resting his forehead on the rich stained wood. He had been mustering up the courage for close to ten minutes to knock. The only thing propelling him forward was the fear of being seen loitering.

All he intended was to check if Magneto was awake and willing to talk. It was the early hours of the morning, but who the hell had a normal sleep schedule anymore? He briefly considered waiting for Rogue to return, which would likely be the wiser choice. However, Remy wasn’t always known for making the most prudent decisions, especially after a drink or two to calm his nerves. Waiting for Rogue wouldn’t alleviate the intense anxiety he felt at that moment.

After all, he was dealing with someone who was intellectually superior and more powerful in every aspect. Magneto was someone who seemed to excel effortlessly at everything, akin to a character from one of Jubilee’s video games. Moreover, Magneto could actually touch the woman Remy loved. Perhaps it would be easier to just give in or give up. It wasn’t that Remy opposed being in an unconventional relationship with Rogue, or even being intimate with another man. It was simply the fact that it had to be him—a person who felt threatening on multiple levels and made him feel inadequate whenever he was around.

Clenching his fist, he rapped on the door before he could chicken out and leave. He had never been this gêné, this easily embarrassed. It frustrated him to feel this way and it frustrated him that of all aspects of his life that he could feel insecure about, it was this. He always had so much confidence with Rogue because he did truly think any physical hurt he experienced was entirely worthwhile. Now he wasn’t even sure if she felt the same about him anymore.

Maybe he should just wait and talk to her like an adult, like Jubilee said. As much as he hated being called out by a teenager, he did have to begrudgingly admit she was right. No one answered the door, so he assumed that some people did indeed have a normal sleep schedule. Or at least, he hoped so. Turning to leave, he managed only a few steps before the doorknob clicked, and the door slowly opened.

Qu’el tonnerre m’écrase.

He leaned towards the partially open door, peering into the dark room. There was nothing. Could it have opened by itself? He knew the chances were slim, but he held onto hope. As he moved to leave, some invisible force pulled him back towards the door. Merde. It seemed better to comply than to be dragged in like a child. Gingerly pushing the door open with his index finger, he entered the dark room.

“So you awake, eh?” he said as casually as he could manage, adjusting to the dimness. The door clicked shut behind him, and the curtains parted slightly, allowing a sliver of moonlight to illuminate the room better. “You gonna talk or just gimme frissons?”

“Do you make a habit of waking people up at three in the morning?” Magneto’s voice carried an edge of irritation as he gestured for Remy to take a seat on the edge of the bed. Sitting upright, his hair tousled from sleep, and his chest bare, Magneto exuded a commanding presence even in the dim moonlight filtering through the room. The sheets draped luxuriously around him hinted at more than just his bare chest, drawing Remy’s attention despite himself. While his usual skintight uniform left little to the imagination, Magneto’s well-sculpted physique was even more striking when unclothed.

“Non.” Remy took the indicated seat, unable to suppress a smirk. “Only when Gambit feeling particularly vindictive.”

Annoyance briefly flashed across Magneto’s face before he regained his usual icy composure, his features settling into a mask of stoicism. “Did you intend to discuss anything or were you just being ‘vindictive?’” His cold eyes bore into Remy, reflecting the moonlight with an almost ethereal glow.

Remy felt the urge to respond with his usual charm and sarcasm, but he knew better than to try such tactics with Magneto. He was just as immune to this as he was to Rogue’s abilities. Nor did such banter seem conducive to actually hashing out anything going on between them. Clearing his throat nervously, Remy ran his fingers through his hair, searching for the right words to broach the subject weighing on his mind.

“Why Magneto go and kiss Gambit, huh?” Remy’s question hung in the air, heavy with tension.

“I’ll acquiesce, but first I wish for you to answer my question.” Magneto’s sneer was evident even in the dim light.

“What dat, den?”

Magneto’s piercing gaze filled him with unease. “Why did Gambit kiss Magneto back?”

Remy felt a weight press down on his chest, as if the air had been sucked out of the room. He should have anticipated this question, especially after bringing up the kiss from earlier that day, but he still wasn’t prepared for it. The shame of his desperation hadn’t abated at all since it had happened. An overwhelming urge to flee flooded his mind, urging him to make a dash for the door in the hopes it would yield. Excuses and cop-outs ping-ponged across his mind, and he was ready to try anything to avoid answering the question.

“Ah,” Remy began, shaking his head. “Maybe we gon wait til Rogue gets back, yeah?” He attempted to shrug off the weight of the conversation, rising to his feet in an attempt to retreat to the safety of his own room. But once again, he was met with resistance, pulled back with enough force that he stumbled and flopped onto his back, legs still dangling over the edge of the mattress.

“Do you require a reminder?” Magneto’s voice was low and commanding as he leaned in closer, silver hair falling around his face. At such close proximity, his intense eyes were mesmerizing, and Remy could feel the warmth of Magneto’s breath against his skin. “You never gave the impression of someone who would flee so easily.”

Remy wanted to respond with one of his usual comebacks or snide remarks, but his brain failed him. Clutching the bedsheets tightly, he attempted to quell his frayed nerves. The offer of warm lips was tantalizing, his loneliness making him feel touch-starved and desperate. From such close proximity, he could better appreciate just how attractive Magneto truly was. With sky blue eyes framed by strong brows and accentuated by thick, dark eyelashes, Magneto’s features exuded a captivating allure. Rather than detracting from his sharp features, the creases and wrinkles around his eyes and mouth seemed to enhance them, giving him a distinguished air. It was the kind of face that anyone, regardless of preference, could acknowledge as objectively handsome.

Clearing his throat, Remy shifted uneasily. “Man gets tres lonely sometimes, yeah.”

“This is true, yes. Therein lies your answer.”

Once more their lips touched, this time without Remy giving any pretense of resistance. Heat surged through his body, his fingers digging into the bedsheets as he held on tighter. Initially, he had attributed his resentment of their first kiss to the realization there was merit to Rogue’s attraction. But now, he knew the reason was far more primal: he wanted to be kissed again.

There was a comforting strength in the way Magneto kissed him. While Rogue possessed raw physical power, their rare moments of physical contact held a delicate yearning—a desire to be held and protected in ways her power denied her. But with Magneto, it was different. His unwavering confidence manifested even in moments of intimate affection, a man who was more than capable of taking what he desired. As their lips parted, Remy couldn’t help but feel vulnerable and consumed by a deep longing.

“You say dat the answer, but it don’t make sense, no.” Remy pushed himself back up, turning around so that the two of them sat face to face. “Mais la, why would you ever be lonely?” The tone of his voice implied what he left unsaid: ‘You have Rogue.’

“It is not mine I speak of.” Magneto extended his hand, reaching towards Remy’s arm. The movement caused the sheets around his waist to slip downward, revealing the bare skin of his hip. Only the bed linens separated his unclothed body from the cool air. The moonlight played off the contours of his body, accentuating every curve and muscle.

Remy hesitated, his mind racing with thoughts of how Rogue might react to the situation. It was evident that she and Magneto had been spending considerable time together, reigniting whatever bond they shared in the past. However, he couldn’t assume that their relationship had progressed to the extent his insecurity insisted. Would he truly be any better if he acted behind her back? He couldn’t deny the attraction he felt towards Magneto, nor could he ignore the tantalizing prospect of exploring a relationship unburdened by the complexities of their current love triangle. And yet, he couldn’t shake the guilt that gnawed at him, the fear of betraying Rogue’s trust and the uncertainty of how she would react when she found out.

As he looked into Magneto’s piercing blue eyes, he saw a depth of understanding that promised something more than just physical intimacy. It was a proposition of mutual respect, a chance to be seen and valued in a way that most around him failed to do. Despite the taunts and deliberate attempts to antagonize, he got the distinct impression that Magneto thought more highly of him than it seemed at face value.

Perhaps it wasn’t about choosing between having Rogue for himself or letting her be with someone else - but about embracing the complexity of all their desires. Though their exchanges were often fraught with confrontation, there were moments when Remy caught glimpse of a softer side to Magneto. It was in the way Magneto’s gaze lingered longer than necessary, the soft way he looked at Rogue, and the subtle hints of approval that slipped through his stoic facade.

“Gambit don’t know…”

“You came here tonight to talk, so let us talk.” Magneto interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. He continued to offer his extended hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, Remy accepted, allowing himself to be pulled down beside Magneto into a supine position.

“When we talk before, you said… you could help Gambit make tings work.” Remy continued, his fingers fidgeting nervously as he played with the hem of his crop top. “How you gonna help if Rogue already choose you? How I gon’ compete wit Magneto of all people?”

“As I explained before, I have no interest in competition - nor do I wish to force Rogue to make a choice. Given that you are here, I presume you considered my words.” Magneto’s gaze was steady and unwavering.

“Been considered, yeah. But dat don’t make ‘em easier to reconcile, no.”

Magneto ran a coarse hand up Remy’s stomach and under his shirt, eliciting a sharp inhalation from Remy in response. Despite their similar size and stature—identical in height and nearly in weight—Magneto exuded an aura of all-encompassing dominance and strength. Every movement carried with it a sense of purpose and intentionality, from the firm grip of his fingers to the deliberate pressure applied when touching intimately. It was enough to convey a degree of authority and dominance, without crossing the threshold into discomfort.

“I am disinterested in forcing you to do anything you do not wish to participate in,” Magneto spoke, his voice low and measured. “No matter what you may have assumed, Rogue does care about you deeply. It is evident that we both share affection for her.”

With a subtle shift of his hand, Magneto gripped Remy’s waist firmly, pulling their bodies together. “Facilitating the two of you to touch without the barrier of her power would be effortless for me, a mere afterthought. However, I have no desire to be but a third wheel or to ‘share’ that which cannot and should not be treated like a belonging to be passed around.”

Remy’s body trembled with a mixture of excitement and apprehension, his mind racing as he tried to process the implications of Magneto’s words. He wished he had chosen to wear something less revealing than gray sweatpants for this visit, something that didn’t tent so easily under the pressure of Magneto’s touch.

“Do you accede?” Magneto’s voice cut through Remy’s thoughts, drawing him back to the present moment.

“Got me too much an envie to fuss. Maybe Magneto make a good cher, yeah?”

“I will interpret that as a yes.” Magneto spoke with a hint of amusement.

“Mais talk about! Got a lot to learn you if you gonna be with Gambit!”

“Very true,” Magneto conceded, wrapping his arms around Remy and pulling him close. “Apropos of nothing, you may call me Erik. In private, at least.”

“I like dat, me,” Remy murmured, nuzzling his face into Erik’s strong chest. He looked forward to when Rogue would return from her trip and couldn’t help but anticipate the surprise that awaited her.

With a contented sigh, he closed his eyes, allowing himself to bask in the warmth of their shared moment. For the first time in a long while, he felt a glimmer of hope that he could find happiness in this unconventional arrangement. Remy found himself drifting off to sleep, lulled by the steady rhythm of Erik’s heartbeat beneath his ear. As he succumbed to the embrace of slumber, he couldn’t help but feel grateful for the unexpected turn of events that had brought him here.