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seventhemaverick · 5 months

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Astro Observations 2 🪽

Thank you for 120+ followers!! <3 this post has opinions and personal observations. Don’t take it too serious my babies. I love ur feedback. Please be kind, inform me otherwise!

☁️ I love how many people in the Astrology community are Scorpio risings, have dominant scorpio/8H placements/degrees, strong pluto influence like we’re all trying to find the meaning to all the f*ck shit that happens in our lives

☁️ Another dominance that I see in a natal chart that is really into these practices is Uranus and Neptune.

☁️ Lilith dominance in a natal chart can be rough especially when they make conjunctions to mars or Pluto. Men can sometimes be so mean to you especially when you both are around other people and you’re just like what just happened 😃? You were just telling me your deepest secrets and desires?? Odd… Á la poubelle 🚮

☁️ Speaking of Lilith, I get annoyed hearing that certain asteroids like Lilith and Chiron aren’t considered a part of a stellium 🙄 because if you can have Lilith dominance in your chart you should be able to consider it a part of your stellium as well? Same with Chiron. If there’s many aspects to those signs as well and if everything is energetically interconnected like astrology tries to show us, you would think those two asteroids at most would be considered. Especially because these asteroids play significant roles in HEALING *cough Chiron cough* and stepping into your power (Lilith). Both asteroids take a shorter amount of time to orbit the sun than most outer planets and some inner planets likeee cmon y’all.. me complaining because I’d technically have a Sagittarius stellium if Chiron and Lilith was included

☁️ Whatever quadrant(s) the majority of your placements fall in is what you are meant to focus on in this life. In the last quadrant, your focus could be on the world around you, humanitarian causes. A lot of planets in your first quadrant your mission in this lifetime is to be more self focused.

☁️ Intercepted houses are interesting... I’m very thankful I don’t have them because my chart is already 😀😗 .. yea. But I realized I’ve come across a lot of people with them and those houses if you don’t know already have a lot of focus on the house it pertains to. Example: intercepted houses in the 1st and 7th house means one of your life’s mission is learning how to assert yourself, set boundaries, find balance in relationships and your free time.

☁️ People that have intercepted houses usually attract people that has signs that rule those houses to teach them significant life lessons. So if you have 1st and 7th intercepted you’ll have someone who probably has Aries/libra in big three or within their chart , if you have 2nd and 8th you’ll attract someone with Taurus/Scorpio in big three or in their chart etc etc

☁️ If you’re feeling unstable it’s best to connect with the element you have most dominant in your chart. Whether it’s literally connecting to that element by physically interacting with it or you are doing the themes in relation to that element. This also applies to whatever sign your mars is in. Surrounding yourself with the element associated with your mars can allow you to release and ground yourself.

☁️ For instance, if you have a lot of water in your chart/water mars, swimming or being by the water and journaling, drawing, whatever creative outlet feels most healing to you by the water can bring you some peace. Talking to the ocean, lake, etc. can be grounding and if you’re really into esoteric practices you can give the water an offering in exchange for peace of mind. Earth, going on a hike, feeling the earth (not concrete yuck) with your bare soles/palms can be helpful, hugging and talking to trees. (Side note fun fact, removing vines that are wrapping a tree is also like an offering because vines growing around trees are invasive and preventing it from receiving sunlight, ultimately killing it. Save your local trees!! I see this as a form of an offering as well) Mother trees will help you most. Fire, first and foremost please be careful. Secondly, working with candles can be very healing and watching the light, taking walks when it’s really sunny, sun bathing, solar plexus yoga could bring much peace. Sun bathing your yoni when the sun is at its peak :) it really works. Air, burning incense whilst having good air ventilation, journaling, stimulating activities like running or jogging while simultaneously working on the breath. Breath work, mental workouts like chess. I might do a post about all Mars signs and specific activity outlets. Lmk in the comments if you guys would be interested :)

☁️ To break out of your comfort zone, to attract newness into your life, connect with the element you have least in your chart!

☁️ The element you have least of is what you tend to attract in others

☁️ People that connect more to sidereal astrology usually have some old soul-ness to them. I��ve observed it’s usually modern Astrology earth placements, mostly Taurus placements that tend to value that system more from what I’ve seen

☁️ I’ve noticed water sign placements/dominance like anime and k-pop a lot. Honorary mention is Aquarius but more towards anime.

☁️ I saw @harmoonix say this in one of their posts recently but this has been sitting in my drafts for over a month so I’m gonna agree and add on lol (love ur posts fr— trendsetter 💐) Aquarius placements, especially in the big 3, love video games. Love playing games on their phone and on a console. Love technology, it’s their safe space— a way to get away from the world. Aquarius does rule over technology! They’re the most tech savvy in the family. Their elders in their home relied on them for that stuff lol.

☁️ Sagittarius placements, esp mercury usually have different genres and languages of music in their catalog

☁️ For Sagittarius to be in detriment in Mercury that placement has many fantastic writers, poets, lyricists etc.

☁️ Earth placements, especially Capricorns can out smoke you. Out-any-substance you fr it’s actually crazy to witness 😂😂.

☁️ Your Groom (5129) or Briede (19029) in your natal chart can not only show the actual sign or house placements that your partner may have but the synastry overlays you both may have as well. For example you may have your groom asteroid in the sign virgo. Your spouses natal placements especially big 3 could have those planets fall into your sixth house. Virgo rules the sixth house.

☁️ This picture above is all Libra placements during this south node in Libra transit. The area Libra resides will show up and out! Villain era fr. Big 3 Libra placements will feel this way the most! This transit has me not giving ANY f*cks!

☁️ Your solar return rising sign is very important. It will tell you the themes that will take place in the new year ahead. For example: Virgo rising in your solar return has you more work and health focused. Should I make a post about solar return risings lmk in the comments!

☁️ It’s also interesting that your rising and moon sign in your solar return chart can pertain who you most come into contact with during. So if your rising is Leo that year you’ll probably befriend, get closer to, date many Leo’s or people that have Leo placements/degrees in their chart :). I can confirm that within each ascendant I have had in my returns since studying astrology the people I was closer to/in contact more with during the time period had those placements in big three especially.

☁️ not an observation but a statement of a dilemma of mine because I cannot choose between placidus and whole sign system. I deeply relate to both. I thankfully don’t have intercepted houses but I can see both sides to the placements in my chart and the different houses they reside in with both systems 😂 ok moving on

☁️ I use placidus house system mostly when I’m reading other people’s chart and whole sign when I’m reading compatibility charts

☁️ placidus is a better system to use for most people because we live in different hemispheres and that system caters to that imo

☁️ I realize most Pisces and Sagittarius placements loveeee green. It’s that Jupiter calling in that abundance!

☁️ Scorpio and Aries are ruled by mars and I have realized people with these placements like purple a lot. Capricorn placements tend to like purple too and cap is exalted in mars! Purple and black are associated with satur(n)day!

☁️ Saw an observation about sag mercuries always interrupt you and it’s true LMAO but they’re very passionate people and I think they just wanna get what they have to say off their chest

☁️ Sagittarius mercuries are the smartest Mercury sign imo.

☁️ Pisces placements especially in the big three are very crafty when it comes to talking their way out of being held accountable

☁️ Being around people that have the signs in your 2nd and 8th house can easily trigger you if you’re not actively working on healing your wounds

☁️ I haven’t met an air sign that doesn’t speak with their face and hands especially Gemini chile

☁️ Mars rules celibacy, Venus rules lust. I realize that people with strong Aries/Scorpio/Capricorn are not into having sex with multiple people simultaneously or can go long periods without having sex. They view sex as a very intimate activity.

☁️ hate to come down on my Venusians but Taurus and Libras and let’s not forget about my girl is exalted in Pisces! People with strong placements in these signs can be loyal but sometimes there can be wandering eyes. Like an itch they want to scratch so bad. Even if they’re very loyal in nature it’s more possible for them to flirt for fun or get into affairs more because they’re hedonistic in nature

☁️ when a Capricorn loves you they will always have your back and put into you financially to help your dreams come true. One of the most attentive , supportive people to have in your corner!

🪽 I wanted to post this sooner but I’m currently grieving the loss of my Capricorn dominant grandmother who was my closest confidant and greatest inspiration, about a month ago. She passed during her Saturn return and Uranus return. She lived an incredible life. Strongest, most fearless person I know. An entrepreneur who knew how to get it! Some people didn’t make it into the new year with us and I hope you know that you have now gained an angel. I’m grateful to the Tumblr astrology community for sharing their knowledge. Astrology really helps me make sense of the world and I’m happy that we all find peace in that. Sending my love and best wishes to you all. Thank you for reading and tuning in xoxo 🪽

#astro notes #astrology observations #astrology #astro observations #capricorn #libra #aries #scorpio #sagittarius #lilith astrology #chiron astrology #solar return observations #pisces

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raphaelsrightarm · 5 months

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Your work is absolutely amazing and I was hoping you could do a nsfw scenario for the bayverse boys, their s/o is super needy and desperate to be loved on but the boys are on the phone with someone (anyone of your choosing), they get tired of waiting and pull their mans pant down to blow him. It would be nice to see how long the boys last on the phone call.

Break

I chose Donnie for this one just because as I read this he immediately popped into my head let's also pretend Donnie's desk is behind a door in a secluded lab and not in their actual living room cause otherwise this would be awkward haha

Words: 1769

Warnings: Smut, 18+

It had been two weeks since he had last fucked you.

Two weeks of him either being glued to his desk or being dragged to his bed by one of his brothers whenever they had enough.

He had taken on new responsibilities with the NYPD, mostly in an attempt to ease the collective anxiety most of them had felt ever since their fight with Krang. He had been looking for ways to prepare themselves for a return, if there ever was one. Finally, he found a way. He’d spent never ending days creating devices that could pick up on any ripple that could allude to his reappearance.

They were beautiful, and with each one he created your pride for him swelled more and more. There was another desk chair in his lab he had just for you, which is where you’ve been for nearly every day since he began working on his newest endeavor.

You didn’t mind it. It was nice to watch him work. He always seemed to know what to do and how to complete it. You were sure that there wouldn’t ever be a day when he didn’t impress you.

But you couldn’t deny that you missed him. Most days he would be at his desk, but still being able to leave it for a little while. Then there were times when he would get so swept up in his work that he would fixate on his project until he was completely sure he was happy with it.

That’s what led to him being glued here for days.

That’s what led to the need that’s been left to engulf you.

“You’re quiet today.”

Donnie proved to have a certain talent to be vigilant of what was happening around him even while immersed in his screens. There had been days when you would be telling him stories as his fingers flew across the keys and he would hear every single word.

“Sorry,” you watched as he pulled away from his notes and drawings and flexed his fingers. “Just distracted.”

“Oh?”

“Do you want to watch a movie tonight?” You knew the answer by the way his eyes guiltily flicked quickly to his work then back to you. He was trying to figure out how much time these machines would take. He had finished ten, and wanted to create more so that there was enough to cover the city.

He hated the way your face fell, hated even more that it was because of him. “I’m sorry, dove. It won’t be long before I finish all of this, then we can do whatever you want. I promise.”

“You don’t want to take a break?”

“I took a break the other day.” He said defensively.

“You mean when Raph forced you to go to bed?”

He feigned offense. “I lost a lot of valuable time, then.” He was trying to make you smile, and the gesture alone brought a small one to your face.

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes staying focused on you.

“Come here,” He placed his elbows on the arm rests of his chair, opening his arms. Part of you wanted to be spiteful, to stay planted in your seat. But that part was much smaller than the temptation of being close to him.

You curled up in his lap the way you had so many times before. His arms felt so familiar to you as they encased you. You laid your chin on his shoulder as his hands moved around your back.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered as his fingers combed through your hair. “I know I can get caught up.”

The guilt you felt washed away the rest of your anger, which flooded out with a sigh against his skin. “It’s ok. I know it isn’t your fault.”

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder before pulling you up so he could look at you. “How about we watch a movie in here? I could pull it up on one of my monitors.”

You felt yourself fill with warmth at how much he wanted to see you happy. The effort he always made to make sure you didn’t feel neglected.

“That would be nice.” His heart swelled at the sight of you smiling. He pressed a kiss to your lips, one that was supposed to be quick, innocent. Then he did it again. And again. Then his hand cupped the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair.

It was almost embarrassing how much desire rolled through you from something so simple. You knew he could tell as he inhaled deeply through his nose, inviting your scent in eagerly.

His hands slid to your hips as he savored the feeling of your lips on his, basking in the heat of your body. You felt him harden underneath you as his grip tightened.

Slowly, you rolled your hips against his bulge. His whole body stiffened as he took in a sharp breath. He began guiding your hips to move at the speed he wanted, which unfortunately, was slow.

Even then, the friction was making your limbs numb, the only important part of you being the one touching him. His small moans would fold against your lips as he moved you faster. His hand slid up the back of your shirt, moving up your skin until he found the clasps of your bra, and you felt your heart race.

It was then his phone started ringing. And your heart dropped to the floor.

Part of you hoped he would ignore it completely, and you deflated even more when he pulled away to check who was calling. He looked at you apologetically.

“It’s Vincent.” You pressed your forehead to his shoulder in defeat. His sigh had a hint of amusement in it. “Give me just one second. Just to make sure everything’s okay.”

You nodded as you climbed off his lap, returning to your seat.

He answered and began speaking, you could tell he was trying to rush. He listened to her concern, then shut his eyes and let out a breath, once again looking guilty.

“She wants to ask about the placements of the devices.” He explained. After a moment, you realized he was asking you if you were alright with him answering her. You felt the sting of annoyance about the timing, but you nodded, waving him on with a flick of your hand.

He reached out and squeezed your knee before turning his eyes to the monitor that had a map of New York, littered with purple dots indicating where he wanted to install his systems. He began listing off street names to her as you watched his lips move.

Your eyes slid down his chest, guided by the strain of his straps, coming to a stop of his hard cock still pressing against his pants. Slowly, you rolled your chair toward him. He spared a brief glance to you before listing off more places on his map. He paused in between each one, making you think she must be writing them down.

Your hands slowly reached for him, your palms flattening on his knees. He looked at you, confused, until he saw the smirk on your face and your body moving to the edge of your chair. He pieced it together quickly after that.

He watched with a look that was a mix of disbelief and challenge as you slid to your knees in front of him. You didn’t look away from his eyes throughout any of your movements. He didn’t have to say anything for you to know the look meant, Don’t you dare.

He then seemed to remember he was supposed to be responding, jolting a little. “What’s that?” He cleared his throat to try and mask that his voice had gotten high. “Yes, I’m planning on placing them the same distance from one another.” His hand squeezed his phone while the other was gripping the arm rest. You reached for the hem of his pants, undoing his belt and zipper before he became exposed to you.

You slowly wrapped your hand around him, not yet moving, only applying the pressure. It was enough to have him breathing heavily, taking the lower half of the phone further away from his face to muffle it.

His ability to divide his focus suddenly disappeared as he asked Vincent to repeat her question, giving her an answer you weren’t paying attention to. Your hand began a steady pace, his hips twitching slightly toward you.

There was a new fire lit in his eyes. He watched as you leaned forward to press kisses along the base. You ran your tongue up his shaft, stopping to swirl it around the head.

He bit his fist keeping his noise down as he glared at you. The spark in his eyes never dimmed though, he had been missing this just as much as you have. He missed the feeling of your hands on him. He missed the way your warm mouth felt wrapped around him. He missed being able to watch your eyes tear up as you took him as far back in your throat as you could manage.

You took the head of his cock in your mouth, sucking gently on it before releasing. You kept your eyes on him, knowing that by now you’re on the way to driving him insane.

You took him in again, pushing down further this time, as far as you could go. Your hand stroked the rest of him as your head began bobbing along his length.

His head pressed the back of his chair as he began answering anything with one word sentences or with simple ‘mhm’s.

Heat was traveling through you at the sight, spreading through every vessel in your body. His eyes clenched shut for a moment as he concentrated on staying silent.

Finally, they began saying their goodbyes.

“I’ll be able to finish them up soon,” His eyes full of lust as he looked at you, “I have something I need to deal with first.” His voice flowed against you like water as a new surge of excitement ran through you.

You released him with a pop as he hung the phone up, still stroking him with a small grin on your face. He dropped his phone on his desk and ran his fingers through your hair.

“That needy, huh? Do you need it that badly?” His hand moved to cup your chin. You began to stand, but he placed a hand on your shoulder. “Finish me off, then I’ll give you what you want.”

#tmnt 2016 #tmnt 2014 #bayversetmnt #tmnt x reader #tmnt donnie x reader #tmnt donnie 2014 #tmnt donnie 2016

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

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Yandere Cult Leader! Headcanons

Warnings: Toxic Behaviour, Obsessive Behaviour, Possessive Behaviour, Delusions of Grandeur, Narcissism, Manipulation, Indoctrination, Implications of Smut, Implications of Sexual Coercion, Kidnapping, False Imprisonment, Implication of Murder, Implications of Torture, Implication of Sexual Punishment/Reward, Implications of Pregnancy (Not of Reader), Poisoning, Stockholm Syndrome, Religious Themes, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, when he sees you for the first time, a quiver in your walk and your voice as you explain to him that your car just swerved into a tree, seemingly of its own accord, leaving you with no means of transportation, knows there is something different about you. Almost whimsical.

♡ Something that makes his stone heart stammer.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, when you shamble up to his front doorstep and plead for help, welcomes you with open arms into his house – the only one for miles – and tells you to “Take a seat. Please, make yourself comfortable !”

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, after finding out that you’re unfamiliar with the area, that you’re not privy to where anything or anyone is, hence you didn’t see whatever caused your car to swerve, can’t help but feel something hidden, dark, light up in the back of his mind.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who insists you “Stay the night; we’d be more than happy to have you !” And actively resists your declination, your promise that you’ll “Be fine if I can get to a hospital.”

♡ Yandere Cult Leader whose only elaboration on who “we” are comes in the form of taking you out the back of the house, which now you see is more like a manor, the front of the architecture being deceptively small and mousy, where, as far as the eye could see, a town slept. One filled with people – hundreds, it seemed – dressed in clothing so similar to one another that they formed a moving pattern.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, despite knowing there are always vacant houses available for any ‘late comers’ to his Association, tells you otherwise – that you will be “Staying with me.” Just until you’re better. Or the next morning, at the very least.

♡ With no phone signal and a growing headache, throupled with your limp, you feel you have little chance of survival out on the open road; especially at night.

♡ And, with what you suspect to be a concussion and no room to argue given how far from anything and everything you were, you accepted what you thought was a gracious offer.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader knows he has to act fast – while you’re still vulnerable and malleable.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, when he has one of his associates draw you a bath, takes your clothes and puts them somewhere only he knows, providing you with clothes of the same material and disposition as everyone else at the compound town.

♡ “For your comfort,” he says, smiling vaguely. “Those city garments looked awfully dirty and uncomfortable – especially since you’ve just had a nasty accident.”

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, when you ask for an ambulance, does one better, bringing you the ‘in-house doctor’ who tells him exactly what he wants to hear. That you’ll “Need to rest for the next week or so, just to be safe.”

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who thanks whatever deity aside from himself exists who has gifted him such a lenient timeframe to grant you ascension into his Family.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, standing just outside your guest bedroom, can’t help but smile, knowing that a week alone with you will be a cakewalk. He’s converted people in a single night before now. Albeit through practices he just can’t bring himself to use on you. Not in isolation, anyway.

♡ Despite the unfamiliar sense of urgency that twists his heart in directions it has never known.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who wastes no time in spinning a frivolous, magnificent story for you, proclaiming himself the mayor of this small, humble town, made up of hard-working folk – farmers, labourers, clothes makers; people who were driven from the city after industrialisation made it impossible for them to financially support themselves.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who revels in the way your eyes glimmer when he divulges his accolades to you, though does so with the modesty of one who sees it as their everyday life. Yet, he knows he has not captured your adoration yet. Another idol lives in your heart; a pop star, a film actor, a god of some description. Not him.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who promises to stamp this out of you. In time.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, in the couple of days after you arrived, commits every ounce of his free time to getting to know you, to understanding what makes you tick, what makes you submissive.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, being the only one in the Compound to understand your culture references outside of this town, having access to sources his Family does not, uses all his knowledge to create an image of himself as a relatable, well-adjusted member of society. Both yours, and his.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader can see you’re becoming more comfortable with him the longer he spends in your presence. And he picks up on your body language to know when you want to be left alone, when you want to speak with him, when you’re starting to feel uncomfortable for one reason or another, and acts accordingly.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, when you start to ask if you’ll be able to leave soon, knows what must be done.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader understands that, to create the perfect disciple, one must first give them the illusion of choice, and the illusion that, when given the chance to leave, they are making the right choice by deciding to stay.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader no longer accosts you when you go to leave the house anymore, instead feeding into your little fantasy that “You’re looking a lot healthier now ! I think you’re almost fully healed.” Even getting the doctor to confirm his false pleasantry musings.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, from the top floor of his sprawling manor, watches you interact with his Family. You’re so easy to track even without his assigned Protectors following you. You stick out with your mannerisms, your smile fresh and not derived from worship of him, but a million other things running through your mind.

♡ You’re a challenge. Oddly resilient to his attempts to charm you as not to want to spend every waking second in his presence as his disciples do. Then again, you’re much more strong-willed than them. Have something to live for.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, despite his goal of initiating as many people into his Family as he can, can’t deny that the more he knows about you – what little information you divulge to this perfect stranger – he feels…drawn to you. In the same way his disciples are to him.

♡ This, he cannot allow. Though he does humour this schoolboy feeling of his interest piquing, his heart fluttering whenever you laugh at his jokes, or relay something to him he never knew before.

♡ Sure, maybe he’s only known you for about a week at this point, but he knows potential when he sees it.

♡ And he’s seen it in you.

♡ Now it’s just a case of getting you – and it – to conform to his will.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, just like whenever he’s feeling overwhelmed or needs to dispel energy of a most nefarious nature, beds his willing disciples – those he knows will not say no, who will gladly take his seed, those who will bear him the fruits of his labour.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader lives for validation, and he’s essentially created his own serotonin farm to stroke his ego whenever he feels it deflating.

♡ And nothing makes Yandere Cult Leader’s ego swell more than seeing the women of his town with his children, knowing that they shall be his successors, the ones to continue his legacy, or fall into his personal army if they are too weak in the mind to take up his mantle.

♡ And that, he knows, is the root of all power. His power, at least.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, when he realises that people will start looking for you soon, decides to take matters into his own hands. He won’t let anyone take you from him. Not when there’s still so much he has to show you – to teach you.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who fabricates your demise – an unfortunate car accident – sacrificing one of his family collective to take your place in the car, similar to you in every aspect in your physicality; your hair colour, your height, your eyes. And the parts that can’t be faked – moles, tattoos, patches – he has his associates cover up with a fire sparked when the oil leaked into the car engine.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, in the meantime, starts thinking of ways to keep you inside – to stop you from seeing anyone else besides him, from potentially escaping.

♡ That, and he underestimated your likeability, noticing his disciples beginning to take to you with something akin to haste. Something akin to that which he felt for you.

♡ Attraction.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who sees this liking displayed when everyone is gathered in the hall for his talks, wherein he sees the odd person or two talking with you during his speeches. Something unheard of – straight-up forbidden – until now.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader decides not to punish you for this transgression. After all, you’re new ! You don’t know how everything works here (he’s made sure of that). But the initiator…

♡ Yandere Cult Leader makes sure they learn their lesson – a little etiquette in obedience. And you won’t be seeing them again for a while.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader doesn’t just see you as a distraction for himself anymore, but a potential weapon against his power.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader isn’t stupid. On the contrary, he’s entirely lucid and knows exactly what you’d call his little establishment. A cult. A blasphemy of heretics.

♡ And he can’t have you blabbing your mouth – as much as he loves hearing you tell him stories – to the wrong people. Or realising what you’ve been roped into.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader takes your health into his hands and begins adding a secret ingredient to your meals. One which is tasteless, scentless, yet weakens you with each passing day.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, now having the excuse to do so, rarely lets you out of the house (not that you can leave, anyway) insisting that you aren’t well enough to do so.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader makes sure he’s your main source of care and entertainment during your time of declining health.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader uses your weakened, bed-ridden state to feed you more glorious tales of his philanthropy and godliness. And you, with little else to do – little else you can do – listen. And believe.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, as the weeks go on, can see that the defiance in your eyes, the initial hesitation and wariness you displayed in your first days here, is starting to fade, along with any fight or hope you have of ever leaving this place.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader feels his heart clamour when you request his presence, an associate of his coming to retrieve him from his office on the rare day he isn’t there to care for you himself.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, when he can see you’re particularly pained, looks over his shoulder and, as if he’s letting you in on a secret, flashes you a smile.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader calls you his “Special little Lamb. My Saint,” and gets up, locking the bedroom door, returning to your bedside.

♡ His hand slips beneath the bed sheets, finding your thigh. First, with reassurance. Then, with something else. Hunger. Promise.

♡ And you, in your state of delirium, either cannot or choose not to resist as his hand travels further beneath your night shirt, creeping ever closer to your epicentre. All the while, he’s crawling on top of you, an archway to another world. A cage.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader tells you to “Keep quiet. We don’t want the others getting jealous now.”

♡ And all the while, as he’s taking care of you, making you gasp, too feeble to even make a sound, he tells you how he thinks “The Gods will heal you, if only you acknowledged them.” His gaze turns hard. There is no humour, no levity, within him. “Join them.”

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, one evening, when he’s at your bedside, after months of his attempts to break you, feels his heart soar when you tell him you “Want to become part of the Family.”

♡ Yandere Cult Leader can’t tell if he’s eventually gotten through to you, either with his promises of restoration or his nights of gratification, but he sees your conformity as loyalty. Finally.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, seeing that he has you in his iron grip, ceases his poisoning and begins work on your ascension. Immediately.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, as your condition begins to improve, tells you that you are to become his ‘special assistant’ – an occupation everyone in his town would kill and die for.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader whose articulation of what ‘special assistant’ means comes in the form of a collar.

♡ And not just any collar. A shock collar.

♡ Not that you know this. Yet.

♡ yandere Cult Leader who, when you’re able to stand, move, and even participate in everyday activities, has your ‘coronation’ organised. A celebration (and display of ownership_ of you and all that you will be bringing to the Family.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who watches everyone’s reactions carefully, picking out those who showed doubt, even a sliver, and those who seemed overly-accepting of your presence.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, that night, as you went to go to your room, pulled you into his, locking the door behind him.

♡ “An assistant as special as yourself can’t be expected to sleep all by their lonesome,” he tells you, his hand on yours. Iron.

♡ “Not when it’s my job to serve you.”

♡ Yandere Cult Leader is a master manipulator. A lucid one at that. Though, his narcissism clouds his sense of self.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, that night, takes you for the first time, deeming it to be the claiming ceremony’ – one which has been a tradition since the inception of the Association.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader convinces you that this is the right thing to do, regardless of how much you want to do it.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who doesn’t stop until he sees every ounce of resistance leave your eyes, and not just towards his advances. Extending far beyond tonight – into the rest of your life as you come to accept that this is your fate, one spent with a demon in a god’s clothing.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader uses sexual gratification as a motivator (or punishment) depending on your behaviour.

♡ If you do something that displeases him, that risks making him lose face if only for a second, he can be vile. Promising the most promiscuously torturous and painful outcomes should you defy his word again.

♡ Such motivators of these punishments can be as simple as wanting to take a walk outside the Compound, asking him a question about the Uncaring Outside, or not doing what he asks of you immediately after he’s told you what he wants.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader is most unkind when he is displeased. And he’ll let you know how easily replaceable you are, how quickly he can find a willing body to take your place in his bed at a moment’s notice.

♡ And you know he’s right. That’s why you obey like you do, why you take the slings and arrows your existence is heir to now, why you plead and beg and cry that you’d “Do better next time ! Please, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry–”

♡ However, if you have displayed good behaviour, he’ll call you by any name you want to hear – “Sweetheart”, “Darling”, “Angel” – anything that reinforces your perceived importance to the Cult Leader.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader has you glued to his side forevermore. Anyone who tries tot ake you from him is deftly dealt with. Which is why you never see the people who’ve come searching for you, who stumbled upon the leader’s human enclosure as you had. Albeit with less guidance from the Leader.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader promises you that “Nobody out There loves you as much as I do. If they did, they’d have come to join you, wouldn’t they ?”

♡ God forbid if you disagree. The Leader didn’t groom you to be opinionated; he tamed you into his pet.

♡ And if you ever want a fighting chance of escaping this place alive, you have to make him believe that you’re dedicated to nothing but him.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Yandere AI Masterlist Masterpost

AO3 Wattpad

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lazyneonrabbitt · 9 months

Text

Inked

Tattoo artist!Carmen Berzatto x Reader

3.1K | The cute, blue eyed guy does your tattoo, then he does you as well.

Smut, Mikey lives AU, improper use of a tattoo station.

Carmy, who always stops his work to make sure you’re greeted properly when you deliver their lunch.

Who gets numerous complaints from the other artist in the shop when he suggests ordering sandwiches at The Beef during lunch for the third time that week.

“You just want to see he girl again.”

“we’ll agree this one time, but only if you ask her out.”

Carmy, who gets stupidly jealous when you’re getting a tattoo from the guy who does your preferred style of tattoos.

Carmy, who’s pretty sure you don’t even know his name.

So when you come into the shop that day with the ordered sandwiches, he’s gathering the courage to ask you but he never really gets the chance. When you drop the bag at the desk as you usually do, you’re immediately chatting with Layla, the lady at the front desk, about something he can’t hear from back at his station. He sees you take a piece of folded paper from your back pocket and hand it over. A moment later he sees Layla point at different flash sheets behind her on the wall, as if she’s having you choose a style. His observing is stopped by a sandwich being handed to him.

Eventually your serious conversation seems to have ended as all that’s heard over the now resumed buzzing of tattoo machines is cackling laughter from the front desk, which he was still happily watching between his appointments. Normally he’d been sketching in between his clients. Either refining his next appointment’s design or working on new flash designs, but today his mind wasn’t anywhere near a canvas.

He did catch the guy that did your previous two tattoos linger near the front, which Carmy was a asshole move since you clearly wanted something different than usual, otherwise you would have asked for him immediately.

He shrugged at his own thoughts and went back to enjoying his sandwich and watching the scene from a distance, hoping to catch the guy’s disappointment when you picked someone else.

And as if he had spoken it into existence he saw his eyes widen and immediately scrunch up in annoyance, huffing angrilly as he stomped past carmy’s station and glaring at his smile.

His small, mental victory cheer was short lived, though.

“Yo, Bear!” Layla’s voice bellowed through the shop. “Get your ass over here for a sec.”

With every step he took to the front he got more curious about what was on the piece of paper you had brought with you, but he was also feeling better with every glare he got from mister rude guy.

He stopped at the counter, leaning on it and awaiting his friend’s explanation for calling him over.

Layla scoots him the paper with a “She loved the coloring on these,” as she points at the open binder filled with colored pencil drawings. “You think you can work that into this design she brought?”

Carmy lets out a laugh as he picks up the paper and looks it over, already picturing what he’d do with it color-wise and looks back up to you. “So, you want this exact linework with this color palette," with a gesture that moves from your picture, to his open binder. "But with this type of coloring?" He looks at you with his fingers on a watercolor piece with soft pastel tones under smooth curves of a globe, a waterfall flowing from one ocean into the soft blue background. The design looked like an upgraded version of the small line only piece he had on his arm.

“If that’s possible, yeah.” You nodded excitedly before looking back at him. “It is possible, right? If not I’ll think up something else or whatever.” The disappointment your own thoughts were causing you was clear on your face, so much Layla almost felt bad for you.

A hand on your arm quickly made the thoughts disappear. “I’ll make it work, yeah. I got this.” He takes a pen and writes down the design details in he upper corner. “So, how soon do you wanna get this done? I got some open spots not too far out.”

“Really? I got this week left before we close the shop for renovations so I got all the time then.” You bounced on your heels from excitement as you worked out the appointment details and he handed you his card. “Thank you so much!” You put the card in your back pocket and looked around for a clock. When you spotted one you realized just how long you had been there. “Shit, I gotta go! If I walk fast I’ll make it back before my break is over. see you in two weeks!” You waved to them and called out a goodbye over your shoulder as you jogged out of the front door.

~~~

You kept the little appointment card in your phone case, getting more and more every day.

You got so giddy about it, the Beef staff teased you about it endlessly during the first week of renovation, up to the second you walked out of the door on your way to the appointment.

Arriving at the shop without your work attire or a bag of food felt strange but you were insanely excited. During your waiting time you had been stalking Carmen's artist instagram as well as the parlor's. You had initially picked Carmen as your artist for this piece because of his style, but after really taking a close look at his new posts your mind was already collecting more and more plans for him to cover your body with. But you would be lying to yourself if you said you hadn't been enjoying those tattoo hot take videos of theirs. Honestly you were glued to your phone whenever either page posted something new.

You arrived early so you quietly sat down at the front after saying hi to Layla. From your spot you could see Carmen busy getting his station ready for you, your quickly folded, printed design taped to an armrest.

After a couple of minutes he came up to you, offering you something to drink before walking you to his station.

"So, you nervous?" His sweet smile made all of your nerves disappear and smile back confidently. "Not anymore now that you're here." You couldn't help it, you were so much more excited for this piece than your first ones.

Maybe because this is the first big one, or maybe because of the intricate colors. Obviously because of the insanely cute guy being up close and personal with your thigh for hours.

It surprised you how much effort he had put into your piece. "We never discussed the size, only the placement so I printed the linework in different sizes." He looks at your leg, comparing the prints. "Look in the mirror for me? Which one do you prefer?" His eyes follow yours through the mirror as he moves the stencils onto your leg one by one. "The second one, but maybe a bit higher up?" You leaned in slightly to tap your leg up t where you want the design to be and Carmen follows your taps, holding the paper carefully for you to judge in the mirror. “Yeah, that’s perfect!” You smile at him, following his movements as he puts the sheet between the foils and transfer paper and runs it through the machine. After cutting the piece out again he grabs a sharpie and kneels down in front of you. “Alright, I’m gonna need you to stand perfectly straight for me.” He puts his hands on your hips to turn you all the way to the mirror and places the piece of transfer paper onto your leg. “Right there, yeah?” “Yeah.” You stare as he takes the sharpie and marks its position before taking it off again. He grabs a bottle of liquid and puts some on hi8s gloved fingers to rub it onto your skin. “Okay now stay still.” He steadily holds the paper between his fingers, his pinkies resting against your skin for stability as he carefully lines up the markings and smoothes out the design onto your leg. Giving it a few careful brushes to make sure it stuck everywhere, he gives it a once over and peels it off carefully, checking if it transferred fully.

You watched him work with his full attention on you, no chatting with the other guys or casual conversation. Only making sure you’re getting the best work. When the stencil was fully off your leg he got back up again. “While that dries, lets go over colors.” With a hand on your lower back he led you towards the small desk hidden behind the bar like wall that separated the stations from the front of the shop. “This is what you brought,” His hand splayed out on the desk. “And this is what you requested for the coloring.” carmen opens a leather binder and pulls out a couple of pieces of paper, turning them over and placing them down for you to check. “Holy shit.” It was all you could get out, honestly. You had imagined what the finished concept would look like, but this was so much better.

“This one has the original colors your print has too, and then these two have small edits that I personally thought would look better on skin.”

The first one was what you requested, but the other two had such a better palette. “That one.” You put your finger on the last one, it had the best balance of the original colors and Carmen’s additions. “Yeah, that’s gonna be the one.” The excitement in your voice and that little bounce when you announced your decision had his heart do a flip. He smiled back at you and went to grab and prep all the colors needed for his work. “Go lay down for me? Make sure you’re comfortable and don’t touch the stencil.” You stared and nodded, hands behind you as you backed up against the leather seat and hopped on. He followed your movements while shaking multiple ink bottles. “Or stay seated, I guess, if you want to watch me work.”He smiled at your shocked blush as he turned back to his toolbox table and started pouring colors into tiny tubs. You watched as he compared needles, holding them to the printed line work and placing every needed item neatly on his workbench.

A few buzzes from the machine indicated the end of his setup.

“Okay now you really gotta lay down.” With a gesture of his hand he rolls over with his seat and positioning your seat so he can easily work on your thigh. Once he had you comfortable and got ink on he needle he gave you one last word that he was gonna start. You gave him a thumbs up in response. He looks up at you, raise brows as he asks again. “I’m gonna start now, you good?” “Yeah. Yeah I’m good to go.”

With that said he rubbed vaseline over the bit of skin where he decided to start and carefully pulled the needle across your skin. The scraping burn felt painful at first, but with time it faded into a dull feeling as you stared up at the ceiling catching Carmen’s gaze from time to time whenever he asked if you were doing okay or needed a drink.

By the time the lines were finished the rest of the artists had left for the day. Even Layla came by to have a look at he progress before she called it a day. You sat up and accepted the glass of soda, looking around the empty shop. "We usually don't do tattoos today. Just bookings and designing." He spends a moment cleaning his machine, changing to a different needle for the colors. "I got lucky and have most of my scedule filled out for the upcoming time, so I could take you today." He finishes up prepping for color and cleans off your leg once more with a quick "sorry.". You swore the alcohol on the towel hurt more than the needle.

“You good to start on colors?” You gave a nod in response and laid back down. “Yeah, let’s go!” He gave you an approving smile, loving that you answered him immediately this time.

The colored reference you chose was taped to an armrest next to you. Carmen studied it for a bit, choosing the best order of colors. Again, the buzz of the machine notified you of the start of round two. You kept your breathing even through that first burning moment again and laid still, relaxed and content. The two of you made some stupid small talk, joking here and there. Whenever silence took over for too long he’d start narrating whatever part he was currently coloring, or you would ask tattoo trivia questions that he’s happily answer for you.

The hours passed way quicker than you expected and before you knew it your leg was being cleaned up for the last time and you were carefully helped off the leather seat to take a look in he mirror. With a hand on your back he led you closer to the wall. “Man, walking feels weird now.” You mention and get a laugh in response. “It’ll have faded by tomorrow morning.” He looked at you from his spot beside you, taking in the way you’re staring at your new art piece in awe. “so?” His hand slid a little lower, squeezing right at the hem of your shorts. “What do you think?” His eyes were still on yours as he asked. “It’s perfect, holy shit Carm you’re amazing.” Your thigh was now decorated with the bold, black cartoony linework of a carebear, colored with pinks and blues, beautifully blending into each other and its details done in such smooth thin lines you could stare at it forever.

Your gaze left your tattoo and turned to the side, staring right into his eyes. Your eyes flicked over to his lips for a second before you grabbed his curls at the back of his head and pulled him in for a kiss. Your sudden move caught him off guard but he quickly returned the kiss, one hand slipping lower onto your ass and the other one holding your hip to make sure you wouldn't rub your freshly tattooed skin against his jeans.

“Lets get that leg wrapped up, shall we?” He guided you back to his station to wipe and wrap your thigh, securing the wrap with pieces of tape.

You were leaned against the large seat with Carmen kneeling in front of you, his eyes on yours. In a moment of confidence you put your hand in his hair, carding your fingers through his curls as his hands moved up to the hem of your shorts waiting for your permission.

A tug on his curls lets him know him he could go ahead, carefully pulling down your shorts and panties while making sure he's not dragging the fabric over your wrapped up skin.

Looking up through his lashes he hooks your leg over his shoulder and inches closer until he's right at your centre. "You got no idea how long I've wanted to do this." With that he closes the gap amd his mouth is on you, his tongue dragging over your slit in a broad, slow stripe.

"Fuck, Carm.." Your fingers curled into his hair and pulled him even closer. His nose brushed against your clit and his tounge easily slid into you, tasting all of you. His moans vibrated through you, having you buck your hips into him almost riding his face. He pulls away for a moment to breathe "Taste so good.. Bring this over for me next time you do a food run?" He jokes with his head against your good thigh, those bright blue eyes staring up at you.

You let out a breathy laugh. "Only on food runs?" The hand in his hair moved down to his jaw to guide him back up. His hands find your hips and in a moment his lips are back on yours. "Gotta thank my brother for always sending you over," He kissed along your jaw. "Got high, spilled about my little crush on the pretty one that brought our lunch that day." Moving your head your lips find his earlobe. "Chef may or may not have heard me talk about the cute artist with the blue eyes and pretty curls a couple of times.."

He smirks against your cheek and steals a kiss before grabbing you by the hips and turning you around.

One hand moves up to your back and presses forward so your upper body is laying against the cool leather of the tattoo chair, while the other kept your thighs at a small distance from the chair. With your head resting on your forearms you look back at him admiring you. When he caught you staring he gave you a quick look with raised eyebrows, looking down at where your ass was pressing against the front of his jeans before looking back into your eyes. A smile and a wiggle against him as response told him enough as he pulled his sweats and boxers down far enough to take out his cock ad rub it between your folds. “Don’t tease, Carmy.. Just put it in,” You press your hips into his again, practically begging him. “please..”

With a roll of his hips he pushes in slowly and leans down to kiss down your spine and softly bit your shoulder blade before setting a steady pace, holding your hips close to his so he won’t accidentally shove you into the chair. Your sighs and moans are sounding trough the parlor as he fucks into you with rhythmic thrusts. “You’re not charging me extra for the happy ending, are you?” Your smartass remark only got a pull on your hips and rougher thrusts as a response. He kept up his fast pace until you were seeing stars and his thrusts started getting sloppy. His forehead was pressed against your back as you clenched around him, taking a few more snaps of his hips before he stilled with a moan. “Shit, if you let me do this more often I might even let you walk out without paying at all."

You shifted so you could look back at him, sweat and curls stuck to his forehead, a tired amile on his face. "Fetch me something to clean up with and I will."

You both got cleaned up and laughed together, chatting about all kinds of stuff. Planning a small dinner date during opening night at the restaurant and betting on how each of your work teams would respond to the two of you dating.

You did end up not having to pay for the tattoo.

~~☆☆☆~~

A/N: lets all pretend Mikey runs the Beef and shit never went bad.

#sometimes i write #the bear #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear imagine #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut

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ccarrot · 9 months

Note

just grasping at straws but Chuuya’s fighting to defend his mom and then the ability being a power enhancement type doesn’t read very well for the nature of his parents’ relationship to each other prior to him getting taken honestly.

well okay from the [[very little]] we know about Chuuya's life before the lab

His family comes from a coastal town in the San'in reigon, which. If you dont know is a long LONG ways from Yokohama

Chuuya's father was an ex military doctor but held a lot of political sway in town

His mother came from a lineage "warriors" Samaurai?? I guess. She also apparently had "the ettiquette and decorum of the upper echelons of society" i'm assuming that means she was comfortably upper class. If not, she certainly acted as it

So essentially Chuuya came from what you'd call a powerful family in a small rural town. With this in mind it's interesting to draw parallels between Chuuya's childhood circumstances and his current position as an exec of the Port Mafia alongside Mori and Kouyou (both of whom are also ex-military and Samaurai heritage respectively, like Chuuya's birth parents)

The couple had a son (chuuya) who "died" and they never had another kid since

So this part is a little weird to me and that might be because it's littered with purposeful ambiguities. For ex. Asagiri describes Chuuya's father as "now a kindhearted doctor" and follows it immediately with "but that wasn't the whole story." What a strange choice right? Because the rest of that point speaks about his past and political influence rather than his personal character BUT the follow up and the use of "now" in some way implies he wasn't alway's "kindhearted."

Another oddity that should also stick out to you, "He got caught up in a war." A war? A. We know that Chuuya like most of the bsd cast in this era was a child of war. We know that the Arahabaki project was running during the later years of The Great War. But Asagiri said "a war" so obviously there's a double meaning to that otherwise he would have saide "the war." This line is followed directly by the story of how young Chuuya got his graphite scar. He was an "unruly child" he adamantly defended his parents, he didnt flinch when he got attacked. The kid was a fighter. He had something to prove and he had a need to defend. That was a war that he got caught up in.

But why was kid chuuya a fighter? Well that's where we can start heading into inferences territory. I don't think there will ever be a certain answer to what caused chuuya's ability to manifest and what his past was really like but you can fill in some of the blanks surrounding that question:

Chuuya's father is an ex-military doctor. So he likely operated on the field during the wartimes. There's a good chance he wasn't around much while Chuuya was growing up

Him being a military doctor also puts him in a *very similar* circle as two other noteworthy miltary doctors in bsd canon who also have close ties to Chuuya: Mori and N (worthwile mention that irl Kensuke Kashimura apparently admired irl Ougai Mori)

Around this time is also when Mori's dossier on incorporating ability users into the war effort was approved. And thus probably when N began his project. In general it wouldnt be far fetched to assume the Special Division started growing in prominence more during the war

So back to Chuuya and his mom, they were likely living alone together with his father off at war. and therefore he probably taken a lot after his mother

Chuuya's mother is from a warrior heritage and maintains the elegance of such. She's probably a very honor bound woman and instilled the importance of honor and respect into her son. And also y'know, the warriors spirit or whatever.

Coupled with the fact that the Nakaharas(????) Are a prominent family in a small village where most citizen know and therefore probably gossip about them, young honor-bound Chuuya could have felt incentivized to defent his parents - even to the point of violence- regardless of the accuracy of the claims

But its also a stretch to assume that young Chuuya's "unruly" behaviour isn't indicative of instablilty or agression at home...

Either way something happened to young Chuuya for him to gain an ability.

We know that Chuuya was taken to the lab sometime after age 6 -> he went to elementary school

We know that the photo with Chuuya and N happened in the reigion (not near the research base in Yokohama) meaning that N knew Chuuya *before* he was in the lab

So N certainly had to know Chuuya's parents. Whether that be because of ties to the father throught the military or is a relative of some kind (assuming N didn't lie about his name being Nakahara).

In the photo, young Chuuya's face is described as "confusion" the poor kid probably had no idea what was happening.

Anyways, back to terrible implications. Chuuya's parents MAY have sent him with N. Knowingly.

Picture this: their young son has suddenly devoloped a dangerous, self destructive ability. If he really did develop an enhancement poer, then there's no ability users for it to work on other than himself. So an accident happens... Chuuya's parents contact an associate who is currently researching self contraticting abilities to somehow help their son. Of course N readily agrees

But N has the perfect research subject. He's not ready to let him go. So Chuuya's death gets faked and that's how the story ends for his parents.

So. There's no solid proof about what could have happened during Chuuya's childhood, and this entire post could be me feeling crazy and overanalyzing. But Asagiri loves telling stories through implications so it's up to you on how to interpret them.

#carrot is putting on her literary analysis hat on today. anything to talk abt bsd stormbringer.#idk its also worth reading up abt some fo the character's namesakes #its interesting to see where parallels can be drawn the irl authors and their counterparts.#this is a whole post of me being slightly insane over somewhat logical narrative implications tho.

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littlewriterfullofwords · 8 months

Text

Only one for me pt. 3

Parring: Hanaoka Y/N x Takajo Tsukasa

Summary: YasuKiyo knows some things they shouldn't

Warnings: she/her pronouns, fluff, mention of fight, wounds and blood

A/N: Hi! I'm back...again. Enjoy my work and let me know what you think😊

Dark eyes scanning your face, gentle touch of a thumb caressing your cheek, causing blush to appear, the smell of his perfume tickling your nose. He was closer with every second. Your lips were about to touch. You were so close to kissing Tsukasa, only the air was between you two....

"Are you listening?" Yasushi's voice kicked you brutally out of your dream world, almost making you jump on your seat.

"Yes." You nodded vigorously, trying to not only convince YasuKiyo but yourself as well.

"Yeah, sure." Murmured Kiyoshi with a smirk. "And your red face says otherwise."

"It's just hot in here." Your answer was given too fast, and was totally out of the frame because everyone in Oya was wearing long sleeved clothes.

"Bullshit." Summarized Yasushi. "We know who you're thinking about."

"You're in love!" Yelled Kiyoshi as he burst laughing.

"No." You opposed.

"You're in love!" Joined Yasushi and now both of them were jumping around you, yelling that you're in love.

"Who's in love?" The crazy mood was interrupted by Fujio and Tsukasa coming into the room you and YasuKiyo have been sitting in.

The only response you could give the guests was more blush on your cheeks and the eyes on the floor.

"Your sister." You were ready to kill Kiyoshi for that, you were even planning his murder in your mind.

"Oooo." Fujio looked surprised but happy at the same time, his eyes were focused on his sister that has been looking away all this time. "With who?"

"No one." You jumped out of the table and headed towards the exit, but before leaving you ruffled Tsukasa's and Fujio's hair with a smile to hide your nervousness. "Bye."

And you left, leaving all four men with confusion in the air.

You walked out of the building and ended up on the patio you really liked, actually it was your favourite spot in the whole Oya, besides the roof.

Your eyes searched the surroundings, and when you saw nothing and no one, you sighed loudly. Your hands immediately touched your red and warm cheeks to cool them a bit. The impact Tsukasa had on you was huge, out of your mind, heart and will. And YasuKiyo noticed that, for your unfortunate.

"Still reacting like a girl in love?" Todoroki's voice made you roll your eyes and turn around to look at him.

"You have a problem with it?" The hidden side of Hanaoka siblings started slowly to show off.

"As long as you won't be walking around, smiling like an idiot with a red tomato face, then no." Yosuke shrugged. "I don't wanna see you drooling over Takajo on my floor."

You gasped offended. It's not like you weren't drooling over Tsukasa, you were, but how the fuck did he know that? Was it that obvious?

"I- I don't know what you are talking about." You huffed trying to hide your nervousness...again.

"Yeah, whatever." Todoroki shrugged and went away, leaving you with your thoughts.

You decided to consider them on your way home, that's why you left the Oya High and headed south.

Feet after feet, step by step, you were walking on the payment, trying to keep your balance on the edge with arms spread to the sides and eyes focused on your shoes. This lil activity made you feel a bit more nostalgic than anything else. You remembered running down the hill with Fujio and his friends. Doing make up with Madoka or watching Arata cook. But when your brother was spending time with the other group, now the Oya students, you preferred sitting on the swings on the playground or drawing in your room. It would be okay to say you had a favourite group.

"Where is the lady going?" The sudden appearance of the voice and three figures in front of you made you lose balance and step on the pavement.

"Alone." Added another man, the one wearing a cap with a dangerous smile.

"Well." You shrugged. "I like walking alone. It's comforting. So if you, gentlemen, excuse me, I'll be walking."

Without anything more, you continued walking, trying to pass the men but one of them grabbed your wrist and stopped you.

"Where do you think you're going?" Asked the man that stopped you the first time.

"Not a gentleman then." You whispered and the fire appeared in your eyes.

You didn't hesitate to throw a punch, you aimed at the nose, neck and the back of the head. Fujio taught you some things, and you were a good student.

"Y/N!" Tsukasa's voice made you look from above the suffering, bleeding and moaning in pain, men and wipe the blood from your lip, you didn't avoid wounds yourself, things like that only happen in books.

"What are you doing here?" You asked a bit confused but embarrassed as well, he's never seen you as messy as you were now.

"It doesn't matter, are you okay?" Blond haired stood in front of you and gently lifted your chin to examine the wounds.

"Yeah, I'm fine." You looked at the group still curled up and in pain. "I think they are not."

"They don't matter now." Tsukasa looked and sounded concerned and scared. "Let's take care of you."

Takajo grabbed your elbow and led you a few steps away from the place of the incident, but suddenly he stopped, turned back and walked slowly to the men. Without a problem, he grabbed one of them by the shirt, brought him closer to his face and whispered in his ear:

"You better don't mess with her. Next time she won't be that generous."

And he left, letting the man fall to the ground with a loud thud.

"Let's go." Again you were grabbed, this time by the wrist, and led towards the place only Tsukasa knew about.

You didn't ask anything, so did he. You were silent, enjoying the companion and rethinking decisions.

"Sit here." Finally the silence was interrupted by Tsukasa pointing the bench. "I'll be back."

You only nodded and obediently sat on the wooden bench by the playground.

Again the nostalgia hit you, you loved this place as a kid, you'd spent hours here by yourself on the swings or with Madoka. You felt the smile coming up to your lips. It hurt a bit, your bottom lip was cut in a few places, but you didn't mind it too much.

"Okay." Tsukasa showed up as quietly as a ghost and sat next to you on the bench. "Show me your wounds."

"Those aren't that serious." You whispered but turned your face his way.

When he touched your face with his cold fingers, the chills ran up your spine, making you shiver a bit.

"The guys out there...." Started Tsukasa as he was cleaning the cuts and bruises under your eyes and on the cheeks. "You gave them a lesson."

"Fujio taught me some tricks, I used them in self-defence." You shrugged with a little smile. "They were in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Takajo's smile was saying one thing, "I'm proud of you." So were his eyes, that were scanning your face for injuries.

"Okay, all done." Tsukasa put the last band aid on the wound on your forehead and gently caressed it, slowly moving his hand to the lost strand of your hair that he put behind your ear.

His cold fingers were touching your skin as he was going down your face, finally resting on your cheek, that was still red from the fight but also from his touch.

Your lips trembled, ready to say something but failed. Your eyes locked with Tsukasa's but only for a second because you dropped the gaze.

"Thank you." You whispered with a gentle smile that hid under your hair that fell down.

To show how grateful you were, you touched every and each band aid with fingertips.

"I didn't cover your lip injuries because you wouldn't be able to talk..." Explained briefly Takajo, sitting straight, his side facing yours.

"Don't worry about that. Some for sure would be happy if I were silent." You joked, having Fujio in mind.

Tsukasa chuckled quietly, making you feel those butterflies in your stomach. You loved this sound, it was so calming and gentle. You could listen to it every day.

Suddenly, your phone rang in your pocket so you quickly reached for it and looked at the screen. Fujio.

"Excuse me." You said and picked up. "What's up? Yeah I'm coming. Yeah. See you. I'm sorry."

"Nah, that's okay." Assured you Takajo.

"Fujio called. Said I should be coming home." You explained with a sad smile. "Guess I will be going."

"I'll go with you." Said Tsukasa. "I'm going this way anyway."

Your eyes brighten and widen. Was your life a book? Was it all real?

"Y-yeah, sure. Let's go." You both got up from the bench and headed one way in silence.

Blond haired hid his hands in his pockets, as usual, and started walking by your right side, the side closer to the main road.

You really felt like in a movie.

"It's here." You pointed at the wooden door and smiled. "Thank you for your help with those..."

You again touched your band aids and smiled a bit wider.

"But your lips...." Started Tsukasa but you interrupted him.

"Don't worry about that. You did a lot."

"I hope it helps." After saying that, Tsukasa came closer and left a gentle kiss on your lips.

Butterflies went crazy, breath disappeared but this warm feeling inside took it place. When the blond haired moved away a bit, you looked him in the eyes with this innocent but happy light.

"Take care." Tsukasa ruffled your hair and walked away like nothing had happened.

It took you a moment to properly understand what just happened. After blinking for some time and thinking too much, you turned around and came to your home.

"Hi! Where hav-" Fujio, who came to greet you, stopped in the middle of the way and went silent after seeing you on the floor with back against the door and a big smile on your face. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah." You whispered and nodded. "Yeah."

#ff writer #ff #spotify #high and low #high & low x reader #high and low x reader #takajo tsukasa #takajo tsukasa x reader #tsukasa

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dylan-o-yumm · 11 months

Text

Little Moments (Part 2)

It's finally here! Im so sorry for the wait but you have all been very lovely and patient, I hope you enjoy the second and final part of Little Moments. Feedback is ALWAYS welcome! AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46338547/chapters/122848546

Warnings: Talk of trauma and PTSD, talk of break-in’s, reader is done with Leon’s shit, SMUT, unprotected sex, cream pie, kitchen sex

Word Count: 9k

Part 1, Part 2

“I don’t think I’m ready to share everything…”

“That’s okay, dear. Just say whatever you’re willing to say. This is a place to share and cast judgment aside. You’re safe here.” An elderly woman smiled at you comfortingly, her wrinkled hands shaking as they held onto her cane. Her eyes weren’t the only ones on you, there were men and women all sitting in a circle, every one of you sitting on a cold grey chair.

You were in a rather spacious room, it was well lit and the children’s drawings taped to the walls brought a comforting vibe to the space. However, the air conditioning made the room a few degrees too cold, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin as you hugged yourself and looked at a spot on the floor as everyone else’s eyes remained on you.

You swallowed your nerves and cleared your throat.

“I went on a vacation to Spain a few months ago,” you started, releasing a shaky breath and rubbing your arm to rid your skin of the little bumps. “On my second day there, I was kidnapped. I was… held hostage in this small house that reeked of rotting… fruit.” That was a lie, it smelled of rotting flesh but you couldn’t say that to a bunch of small town people who were comfortable living in ignorance. You couldn’t blame them for living that way though. Ignorance is bliss.

“I managed to escape after three days, and hid inside a barn for about… just over twenty-four hours I think. There were people everywhere, but I stayed hidden because I was so scared of what they would do to me if they found me,” you stared through the floor now, becoming distant as the memories plagued your mind.

You couldn’t share too much. Perhaps you had already shared too much. People couldn’t know about all the horrors, the monsters, the infections, the mutations. But did that mean you had to bottle everything up for the rest of your life and slowly turn yourself crazy? Wondering if what happened back then was actually real or if you just made it all up in your head. Having no outlet…

“Whatever… Long story short, I obviously survived and got out of there…” you wouldn’t be here to tell the tale otherwise. You didn’t want to speak any more about what you went through, all these people needed to know was that you had a traumatic vacation. They couldn’t know about Ashley or Leon or Ada. You got as much off of your chest as need be, and now you could openly talk about your feelings, right? — Which is what you had come here for.

“I still feel like I’m there, though.”

No one interrupted you, giving you the floor to say whatever you needed or wanted. That was what this place was for, to open up about things you couldn’t open up about to family or friends. Other people who understood what it might feel like. Maybe not fighting against monsters and mutated people, but they knew the struggles that came afterwards. The trauma, the PTSD. All the people sitting in a circle with you had trauma of their own, and they were all dealing with it somehow.

They were brave for being here and opening up. So why didn’t you feel brave?

“I'm constantly on edge. I'm scared of the dark again, to the point where I need to turn on all the lights in my home- so I'm pretty sure I’m building up one hell of an electricity bill…” you scoffed lightly but no one else found it humorous. Some people slowly nodded along, knowing almost exactly how you felt.

“Whenever I do manage to sleep — which is very rare these days— I have these horrible nightmares where I’ll wake up screaming and thrashing in my bed… I’ve actually worried my neighbors a few times,” you remember the first time it happened. Police had knocked on your door and asked if you were okay. They then came into your home and searched around, no matter how many times you said you were fine and no one else was in the house with you. Having the police check the house however, did bring some comfort.

A few nights later it happened again, but instead of the police, it was your neighbor. They asked if you were okay and you apologized profusely for waking them up a second time. They seemed nice and understanding enough. Until the fifth time when they knocked on your door and tiredly begged you to get help.

Today was your first day out of the house in weeks.

Your eyes stung with tears yet to be shed.

“I feel like I’m losing my mind… I don’t want to live like this. I just want to know when it’ll get better.” A broken, half amused, wet sob escaped past your lips which brought you back to the room you were in. Everyone’s eyes on you started to feel so much heavier and unsettling. You couldn’t help but shrink back into your seat and avoid eye contact with every one of them.

“It does get better. The healing process is different for everyone, dear,” the old woman spoke up again, her smile was sad but comforting. You wanted a hug from her. You were able to meet her gaze for a short moment before looking at, and keeping your eyes fixed on the bottom of her cane. “I hope you’re very proud of yourself for all that you have survived. I know we are all proud of you… isn’t that right, everyone?”

The people around you murmured soft encouragements and nodded in agreement.

—————————————————————

You were emotionally drained on your walk back home, being so lost in your own head that you barely remembered walking at all. First you were at group therapy, and suddenly you were back home, standing in your driveway. You had headphones in your ears but there was no music playing, no podcast, just the sound of silence — blocking out noise of cars passing by or people chatting or birds chirping. Nice and quiet.

You liked the quiet when you weren’t inside your home. When you were inside your home the silence gave you time to think, to be alone with your thoughts. You didn’t like being inside your home anymore. It was too isolating. You didn’t like being alone, you didn’t like being so on edge all the time, thinking there were monsters hiding in every shadow. Yet when you were inside your home, it was hard to leave it.

You stood on your driveway, staring at your home. You were stalling, you didn’t want to go inside just yet. You wanted to stand out in the sun for a moment longer, and feel safe a moment longer. It was an odd sensation to feel safe on the street, but not inside your own home. Maybe something to do with enclosed spaces?

Thankfully you remained outside for a moment longer, or you would have missed the shadow of, what seemed to be, a person walking past your kitchen window. It was brief and you wanted to play it off as your mind just playing tricks on you. Maybe a bird flew past and you mistook it for something else? Maybe the curtains on your kitchen window caught the wind? But no… the uneasy feeling in your stomach was enough to know…

To know that someone was inside your house.

Or… something was inside your house.

Your blood ran cold and your heart started beating rapidly inside your chest— if you were to look down you would have seen the thump thump thump of it hitting against your chest hard and frightfully. You needed to go inside and neutralize the threat, that’s what Leon would do, and that’s what you needed to do. The thought of calling the police hadn’t even entered your mind but you didn’t want to wait around for them anyway. Who knew what that thing was doing in your house. How long they had been inside there for.

Had they been in there before you left for group therapy?

That thought terrified you.

What if they had been hiding somewhere while you were inside? Watching you while you watched tv, while you slept, while you ate and showered. While you were vulnerable... Surely you would have known right? You would have heard something, smelled something. If it were a monster, you would most likely be dead by now.

You needed to stop thinking about ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’ and actually do something. You needed to take back your home.

You crouched down and grabbed the closest item to you, which was a solar powered garden light that was stabbed into the dirt — pointy and sharp, a good enough weapon to stab monsters with. Now you just had to sneak inside somehow without getting caught. To be light on your feet and keep your shaky breaths subtle and, preferably, silent.

Thankfully the front door was unlocked, so opening the door quietly only took patience and a steady hand. You were concerned however, because you really thought you had locked the door on your way out. How did this intruder get inside your home? The thought that they had been inside your house all along really started to weigh on you and stress you out even more than you already were.

Slowly and gently opening the front door, you left it open behind you as you carefully stepped inside the house. You raised your arm, pointing the end of the garden lamp up and ready to strike or stab whatever was inside your home, whatever was stupid enough to think you wouldn’t put up a fight… To be honest you didn't know until this very moment that you would put up a fight. You figured you were the cower and hide type, but perhaps the horrors of Spain prepared you for moments like these.

One foot in front of the other, you made your way down the hall and away from the entrance of your house, staying on your tippy toes and being cautious of your weight placement. All it took was one wrong step and your position would be discovered by the enemy. And it just so happened to be your luck that, even though your steps were light and careful, one wrong step on one particularly loose floorboard had you almost crying as panic came over you.

You winced and moved your foot off of the squeaky floorboard, knowing not to step there again. However you didn't know if you had already been found, you couldn't see or hear anyone so maybe you were in luck? Or maybe there was a deaf monster lurking about. You remember Leon telling you about Lickers and the Garradors who were blind but had sharp hearing skills. Maybe there were some monsters that couldn't hear well but could… see through walls or smell you from a mile away?

No.

You still had the element of surprise to your advantage, you just needed to be more careful.

It only took you a few more careful steps until you were in the kitchen, which is where you saw the intruder through the window. You held your weapon tightly in both your hands now, preparing to strike down or lunge forward into a body that could and would probably kill you. But not before you put a couple holes in them.

The floorboards creaked again, but this time, not under your weight.

You yelled and swung your weapon as a figure made its way into your peripherals. You aimed to plunge the sharp spike into the skull of your intruder, however, your arms were unable to come all the way down, something blocking you from eliminating the threat. Your wrists were caught in a strong grip. A strong hand, a male hand, holding you tight and bruising your skin.

The hand pinched and twisted, angling your hands at an awkward angle. You held onto your weapon for dear life but the hand simply twisted your wrists even more until you were forced to drop it and wince in pain. The weapon clattered to the floor noisily and you gasped as you tried to twist your hands back the right way. You needed to get out of this and fight and scream and make a scene so that hopefully your neighbors would call the police. But right before your lips parted, a scream building up in your belly, your eyes met his…

“I knew you were here but I couldn’t pinpoint where. Keeping the front door open was a smart move — the sound from outside muffled your noises,” Leon quipped, his eyes squinting slightly as he cracked his neck.

You were completely stunned. Calmer now that you weren’t fearing for your life, but stunned nonetheless. What the hell was Leon doing in your house? How did he get into your house? He probably knew how to lockpick but all you had seen him do was kick down doors with his own damn feet. And you don’t remember seeing any boot prints on your door.

“You didn’t want to call out to me and let me know you were here?! I was just at a fucking PTSD therapy circle thing! Now is not the time to be scaring me like this!” You yanked your hands out of his grip and angrily took a step back away from him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, though he didn’t sound disingenuous. It had been a few months since you had last seen Leon. His hair was still straight and styled in a way that shaped his face nicely, his eyes were the same deep blue you loved to swim in, his brow was a little more tense than you remembered. However the main difference was the slight prickly stubble on his face. It made him look more mature, more jagged, more hardened.

You huffed, hands on your hips, glaring at him. You gave yourself a moment to calm your racing heart, to get out of your fight or flight mode.

“Why are you here? I thought I’d never see you again,” you couldn’t help your snippy and impatient tone. You had said goodbye to Leon, you had prepared to never see him again, to move on and find someone new. You had almost stopped thinking about him and pining over him and now here he was standing in your kitchen? Uninvited?

“I just… had to make sure you were okay,” He answered a little bashfully, forcing himself to hold eye contact with you but you could tell he was a little nervous and maybe even embarrassed.

“Why would I not be okay?”

“Well, you live alone for starters,” he stated bluntly and gestured loosely around the room as if to say ‘I don’t see anyone else here to keep an eye on you.’

“Thanks. I'm aware,” you sassed, rolling your eyes as if he were just rubbing it in your face that you were single and living alone. Did he live with someone? He was single… right? He wouldn’t have kissed you back at the hotel if he had someone at home waiting for him. Leon was a loyal guy, it didn’t take a genius to figure that out.

Why did you care though? You had your chance and he was the one that walked away from you. You didn’t think you did anything wrong to make him walk away, so maybe he just wasn’t into you like that. Maybe you were a lousy kisser and he didn’t have the heart to tell you. Maybe he was holding out for Ada.

“You’re not happy to see me,” he stated. It wasn’t a question.

“You shouldn’t be here, Leon!” You snapped, your eyebrows raising into your hairline, pleading with him to understand where you were coming from — how confused you were and how painful this would turn out to be. You had just gotten over him, and now he was back? Which could only mean you would have to get over him all over again. “When you dropped me back off here all those months ago, and you turned around and left, that was meant to be the last time I saw you!”

“I thought you’d be happy? Especially after how we left things at the—“

“Don’t even get me started on the hotel room incident.” You quickly cut him off, hands on your hips and a sour expression on your face. He looked so innocently confused, maybe even a little hurt. His eyes weren’t very expressive, he was rather good at hiding his emotions, though if you looked close enough, you could see right through him.

“That makes it sound like it was an accident,” his brows pinched together and you hated that you thought he looked cute.

“Wasn’t it?” You shrugged, having an expectant look on your face. You wouldn’t be disappointed again, you couldn’t be. It was too hard getting over him the first time, you couldn’t do it again. Not now, not when you had finally started trying to do better for yourself.

Leon was silent for a moment.

“I don’t know.” He finally answered, quiet and dejected.

It hurt.

Knowing that he might say it was a mistake, might consider it to be a mistake. It wasn’t like you two slept together, it was just some kissing, and hugging… and sleeping, but no sex. It was a gentle, tender moment between two lost souls who just survived something that might as well have been out of a horror film. You needed Leon at that moment and you thought he needed you too, but maybe it really was just a big mistake— something that would only hurt your feelings again and again and again.

At least with Leon, he knew your pain and you knew his. Maybe not all of it, but you were bonded through trauma. It wasn’t like you could date any random person and expect them to deal with all your baggage that you carried off that damn island with you. Leon at least had the same type of baggage as you so there was an unspoken understanding between the two of you, something that no one else could have with you.

But you couldn’t fool yourself. It wasn’t meant to be, and even Leon knew that.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced down the burning sensation that lingered behind your eyes, threatening to bring the tears. You would be an immovable rock, staring down Leon Kennedy where he stood.

“Why are you here, Leon?” You asked once again... slower and quieter, but more firmly this time. He would not feel welcome here and you would make sure of it. It was for your own good.

“I kept having this dream— nightmare.” He forced the words out like he was ashamed to admit he had any nightmares at all, but you’d be more concerned if he didn’t, given his line of work. You can’t see all that horrible shit and then come out perfectly fine on the other side. You weren’t okay and you had experienced, maybe a quarter, of what Leon himself had gone through. “You were all alone here, and… I had to make sure you were okay.” He continued.

“A nightmare?” You asked skeptically, wondering why that meant he would want to come here. So you continued, “about me?”

He nodded his head. “You were hurt. Needed me,” he stood stiffly, trying to remain cool, calm and collected, but whatever he dreamt about had clearly shaken him. You could see the nightmare playing behind his eyes, the way his eyes felt muted and dulled, and his features slackened as if just the memory alone took all the energy from him.

Whatever he had dreamt about you, it was enough to make him worried. So worried that he would drop everything and come all the way here, on his day off, just to see you. So worried that he couldn’t even tell you the details of said nightmare. He knew it was just a nightmare and that you were safe… He wasn’t here for you, he was here for himself. To ease his own fears. At least you knew he cared for you somewhat.

You decided not to press him about what happened in said nightmare, you weren’t sure you wanted to know anyway.

“How’d you get inside?”

“I remembered where you kept your spare key,” he responded, a little life coming back to his face, obviously glad for the topic change. And his answer relieved you, knowing that there wasn’t a smashed window somewhere or a faulty lock on one of your doors. You thought about moving the spare key from under the doormat but then, how would Leon find his way back inside then? That was, if he was even planning on coming back.

Did you want him to come back?

Him being here was already confusing your mind and your heart.

“How did you get here?” You continued questioning him.

“I rode here. Motorbike,” he gestured outside with a faint tilt of his head. You looked out the kitchen window and sure enough, there on the side of the street curb was a sleek, black motorcycle with a black helmet dangling off the handlebar. You scoffed at the thought of him riding all the way over to your home on a motorbike — however then you realized you didn’t even know where he lived, so maybe he was rather close by and the ride was shorter than you were expecting? You just assumed Leon was too far out of your grasp, physically and emotionally.

“Is that meant to impress me? Mr. Leon Kennedy rides a motorbike?” You turned back to him and cocked an eyebrow. He was subtle in the way he was smirking, his eyes constantly on you and watching your reaction, even when you turned to take one last glance at the bike sitting on your curb.

“Is it working?”

“No.” Yes.

“Then no.”

You huffed, looking down at your shoes for a moment to take your eyes off of his gorgeous blue ones. You really had a weakness for them, if anyone could resist their charm, you’d think them psychopathic.

“Did you check in on Ashley too?” You asked, feeling a pang of jealousy at the thought of him going to check in on her before he came to check on you, but you didn’t let it show on your face.

“Ashley has bodyguards.” So that was a no, you gathered. He only came here to check in on you? No one else?

“Is that why you’re here…? To be my bodyguard?” You questioned, crossing your arms over your chest and tilting your head, trying to maintain your minimal patience attitude.

“No. I wish I could, but I can’t.” He scoffed and your heart cracked a little, not because you wanted a bodyguard but because his words echoed in your head. They had been echoing in your head for the last few months.

“There it is again. ‘I can’t.’” You scoffed back at him.

“Again? What do you mean?” His brows pinched together in confusion.

“Back at the hotel. While Ashley was showering. You know, before the incident. You told me you can’t… Can't what, Leon?” You reminded him, staring deep into his soul and knowing you were making him uncomfortable by putting him on the spot, but you didn’t care. He made you uncomfortable by breaking into your house unannounced, so if he wanted to do that, you would pay him back by grilling him for the answers to the question that you had been pondering for months now.

He sighed and his posture sagged, your words immediately took ten years off of his life. He had an answer but he didn’t know how to say it, it was complicated— everything about his life was complicated.

You stood there staring at him for a few long seconds before he finally spoke up.

“You know what.” He told you in a quiet but stern voice.

“I wanna hear you say it.” You quickly retorted. Because after all these months of pondering, you had a good idea of what he had meant back then. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out, Leon was a selfless guy. And he had been acting selfless for as long as you’d known him, except for today. It wasn’t very selfless of him to come see you.

So he didn’t say anything, he didn’t respond to you, but he didn't have to.

You signed.

“It’s my choice, you know.” You folded your arms over your chest and told him blatantly how it was.

“Don’t these things usually need two people to be in agreement?” He sassed.

“It is my choice,” you stopped him from talking, not wanting to hear his witty remarks and cheesy one liners. “If I want to sit and worry for weeks or months while you’re away on a mission, that’s my choice. If I want to put my life in danger just because I want to be around you more, that is my choice.” You explained angrily, wanting him to either get it through his thick skull or to leave your home.

He huffed a short, heavy breath, resting his hands on the kitchen counter as he leaned forward and dropped his head down, his chin almost touching his chest. “You don’t even know me.” He sounded sad, and you realized that he probably felt like a lot of people didn't really know him. He was never in one place for too long, he didn't seem like the kind of guy to have friends outside of work, only because his life was his work. No one knew Leon personally.

“I know enough.”

“No. You don’t. I'm just some guy who saved your ass. Ever heard of trauma bonding? It’s when you-“

“I know what trauma bonding is!” You quickly cut him off, knowing that what he was saying could potentially be true – you did experience a lot of trauma alongside him. But it felt like more than just a trauma bond… Though how could you ever truly know? “I haven't known you for a long time but I don’t need to… You’re gentle and kind. You made Ashley and I feel so safe. You put our safety above all else.”

“It was my job-“

“I saw the way you spoke to Ashley after she attacked you. When she was scared of hurting you again. I saw how much you hated seeing her in pain when we were in Luis’ lab, how you held her hand through it all, even though you were seconds away from being infected yourself… Forget the fact that you saved our lives. I’m focused on the little moments. The moments where you weren't just doing your job.”

“I can’t…” he refused to meet your gaze but you didn’t give him the chance to shut down. Not yet. You stepped closer to him.

“When Luis died. You lit a cigarette for him. You comforted him in his last moments even though he was a pain in the ass… You also ended Krauser’s suffering. You didn’t care about how it would affect you, you just knew that you had to be the one to do it. And even though he kidnapped Ashley and he tried to kill us multiple times… I believe you when you say he was a good man. Because I trust you, Leon.”

He was still quiet, refusing to look at you but you could see his face, see the way he took in your words and the way his body relaxed slightly. Maybe it was all obvious to you, how good he was, but that didn’t mean he didn’t need to hear it.

“I’m never going to have a decent night's sleep again because of all the shit I've seen, but if you told me you needed me to go back to that village for whatever reason. I would do it in a heartbeat. I would do it… all over again. I’d do it for you.”

“I would never ask that of you,” he whispered, finally looking up to give you a shy glance through his hair.

“That’s all you got from my speech?” You cocked your hip and frowned.

“No. I just… I don’t want you getting hurt.” He turned his body to you completely now, one hand resting on the countertop while the other hung by his side, itching to reach out and grab you. You stepped to him again, holding eye contact even when you could tell he was feeling flustered and embarrassed. Your chest was close to pressing against his.

“It’s my choice. Hurt me.” You whispered back.

His eyes remained on yours, you could see every emotion running through his mind, every thought, every feeling. He was fighting with himself for the first second — trying to convince himself out of whatever it was you were trying to get him to do. Trying to convince himself that he should just leave your home, he checked in on you just like he intended to, you were fine and safe. He could leave now.

However, his mind wasn’t as strong as his heart was.

Like two lions lunging at one another, you and Leon pounced at the same time. His hands grabbed your face and your hands buried themselves in his dirty blond hair as your faces squished together. Teeth clacking against teeth, nose pressing against nose, trying to bury your way into each other's skin.

His lips were on yours but the both of you were pressing so hard into each other, you could only feel your top lip being sandwiched in between your gums and his lips. So hard that your lips swelled almost immediately, as did his. Not that you had a chance to look in a mirror or even part from him long enough to see just how swollen his lips were, as you were too busy pushing him back into the kitchen counter while toeing your shoes and socks off.

His back bumped into the counter and something clattered onto the ground, you didn’t take a moment to care what it was, even if it was your most prized possession, you couldn’t care at that moment. Leon’s hands remained on your face, holding you softly and sweetly no matter how hard his lips pressed against yours, but you wanted him to touch you elsewhere.

Instead of using your words, your hands slid out from his hair and down his neck, over his pectorals and down to the hem of his shirt. You kissed him a moment longer before slowly pulling it up, holding your lips against his for as long as you possibly could until the hem of his shirt had been lifted up to his chin, which meant you had to pull away to take it off.

Finally now you could get a look at his puffy lips, his flushed face, his lust-filled eyes. The both of you panting heavily to catch your breath as you lifted his shirt off of him and discarded it on the floor. Your hands immediately touched his warm skin, feeling the curves and definition of his abs. He was hairless, smooth and a little shiny from the thin layer of sweat he was building up, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of the v-line dipping into his jeans.

Leon’s hands came back to your face, gently cupping your cheeks and brushing your hair behind your ear. Your eyes were torn off of his body and pulled back up to meet his gaze. Panting softly now, having filled your lungs with enough air, you reached up and took his left hand in your right. His eyes watched his hand as you moved it off of your face and down past your neck. Your eyes however, remained on his.

His hand flattened out once you guided him to your chest, though where you wanted him to tear your clothes off or grope you mercilessly… he instead paused for a moment to feel your racing heartbeat. His lips parted and he breathed out softly but just heavily enough for you to feel his breath on your skin.

“Leon?”

“Are you sure about this?”

You huffed, tilting your head to the side disappointedly. His self doubt was not going to ruin this moment. You took his hand, peeling it off of your chest and bringing his open palm to your lips where you gave him a soft yet lingering kiss. His eyes softened at the gesture and you could make out a hint of a smile on his face before you then guided his hand back down to your chest, over your right breast.

His hand slowly closed around the clothed mound and squeezed softly. “I guess that answers that question.”

You smiled, a soft chuckle coming out your nose before your hand stopped guiding him and instead went back to burying itself in his soft hair. His face remained quite red as he watched what his own hand was doing, massaging and rubbing your breast with soft, gentle fingers. You couldn’t help but find it so endearing, the fact that you told him to hurt you and yet his touch had never been gentler.

“Are you a virgin?” The words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop them, a teasing smirk unable to while itself off your lips.

“What? No. I just… We’re in the kitchen, I’m not sure w-“ you cut him off instantly with a scoff, smacking his hand away from you playfully and turning your back to him. He was worried that he had offended you or hurt you somehow, but he watched as you jumped up onto the kitchen counter, sitting down with your legs spread the perfect amount for him to come stand in between.

He didn’t move just yet as he continued watching you. Your hands grabbed the hem of your own shirt and pulled it up and over your head, tossing it on top of Leon’s shirt that was also discarded on the floor. The sunset behind you, streaming in through the open window, surrounded you and made your body glow. Leon finally moved forward and took his place between your open legs.

“I don’t have to tell you what to do, do I?” You teased him a little more and his eyes had never looked so young and innocent. It was incredibly hard to believe that this man had killed a whole village full of zombies. Yet here he was, pressing against you, his jeans tight and his zipper digging into his groin painfully. He shook his head no, to answer your rhetorical question, but his hands finally started moving again.

Starting on your thighs, his hands slid upwards, his thumbs coming incredibly close to where you throbbed and craved his touch. But his hands followed the round of your hips and settled on the waistband of your pants. His forehead rested against yours as he looked down, watching as he tugged the fabric down.

“Lift your hips,” he told you and you obeyed, leaning back on your hands and raising your pelvis as Leon slid your pants down your thighs. They stopped around your ankles but Leon didn’t want to bend down and leave your space for even a moment. So you watched and gasped as his boot came down between your ankles and stomped the material down in one swift motion, having them off your body and on the floor in an instant, but something about the action made your body even more tingly.

Left in nothing but your panties and your bra, Leon looked down at you and admired your body while your hands grabbed at his belt and loosened his pants. Once he was free enough that the zipper was no longer digging into him, he stopped you from what you were doing and suddenly captured both your wrists in his firm grip.

“Leon? I’m sorry, am I moving too fast or something?” You worried yourself for a moment but Leon settled your fears with his lips on yours. His kisses were remaining hard and rough, but everything else about him was gentle and loving. Your eyes fluttered shut and his grasp on your wrists lessened a little, but he pushed forward with his lips until you were about to fall backwards out the window, only he released your hands in time for you to place them behind your back and save yourself.

“Stay like this,” he whispered, and you realised he had just done that on purpose. He wanted you to lean back and take what he gave you, he wanted your hands behind your back and no longer focusing on him. He wanted you to relax and enjoy yourself.

His hand started on your stomach, thumb stroking your skin and following the dip of your navel. You watched his hand, lips parted and a soft gasp escaped your mouth. He was barely touching you but he had already set your skin ablaze.

Your heart started pounding faster and faster as Leon’s hand lowered down to your panties, sliding over the top of the fabric and settling between your thighs. The subtle touch over your clit had you jolting and bucking your hips, desperate for more of his touch.

His eyes met yours for a short moment, making sure you were okay, before his fingers slipped your panties to the side and started stroking your wet folds with his knuckle.

Your head tilted back and you sighed, turning into liquid under his touch. He watched you with hungry eyes, continuing to stroke your slick folds until his finger was covered in your fluids, lubricating him enough for the tip of his finger to dance around your hole. You bit your lip and lifted your head back up to watch as he, ever so slowly, sunk the tip of his index finger inside your tight walls.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned breathily as you spread your legs open even wider. Leon slid his finger in until the heel of his palm was flush against your clit, curling his index finger to find the soft and spongy spot inside you that had your toes curling. He was slow and deliberate with his movements, keeping his finger inside while doing a come hither motion, making you wetter and wetter until a second digit prodded at your hole.

“You feel good,” he whispered breathily while watching his own fingers slide inside you and coax out your arousal, completely transfixed on the sight while you laid back and enjoyed what he was doing to you.

“It’ll feel better when you use your dick—“

“Shhh… we’re going slow. I’m gonna make sure you’re ready first… I’m not going to hurt you,” he promised, leaning in and pressing his nose to the space just below your ear, breathing in the scent of your shampoo and body wash as he closed his eyes and melted into you. His lips were next to touch your skin, leaving soft open mouthed kisses against your neck while he continued to finger you nice and slowly.

His breath was warm against your skin, and his lips were soft like pillows. He had you shuddering and whimpering when he added his tongue into the mix. He started out with gentle kisses where the tip of his tongue lightly teased your skin, moving around to find the part of your neck that had you giving him the best reactions. Once your breathing got heavier, he flattened his tongue and licked a long, slow stripe up to your ear before nibbling your earlobe into his mouth and sucking softly.

You couldn’t help but dig your heels into the counter to pull your body onto Leon’s fingers more, doing your best to grind against his palm as you got completely lost in your pleasure. Your walls fluttered around his two fingers as he thrusted them into you and curled them just right, you wanted more though. You wanted him to roughly fuck you with his fingers, to plunge as many fingers as he wanted into you while the sound of squelching filled the room. But he was so gentle instead, so soft and sweet.

His free hand that had been gripping your waist moved around to the small of your back. He trailed his palm up your spine slowly until his fingers skilfully unclasped your bra in one swift movement. He quickly tore the fabric off of your chest, freeing you from your bra so your breasts were on full display for him. That was a little rougher than he had previously been and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your cunt clamp down hard on his fingers.

Leon pulled back from his assault on your neck and ear to get a nice long look at you, admiring your breasts and pert nipples. “Fuck,” he sighed and you blushed under his gaze, but he soon had you moaning and panting once again as his head dived down to press kisses along the curve of your breasts before latching his mouth onto your right nipple.

And it was then that he finally started fingering you with a bit more force and speed. With his tongue swirling around your hardened nub and his fingers fucking into your tightness, you held back a squeal as your legs instinctively shut and clamped around his arm. He didn’t care much however, as he was strong enough to continue the work with his fingers, speeding up more and more and more until you had to squeeze your eyes shut and your whole body tensed up.

“Leo-fuck! Slow d-down! Fuck fuck fuck!” Your whole body curled up as Leon continued finger fucking you at such speeds your mind had completely gone blank. Your hands left the kitchen counter and had wrapped your arms around his neck, forcing his face to be trapped against your breasts. He growled against your skin and you fought the urge to kick your legs and accidentally hurt him as a wave of boiling hot pleasure waved over your whole body. Starting at your stomach and then spreading outwards to the rest of your limbs.

You came with a grunt, almost sounding angry because how dare he be so fucking good at that. How dare he make you feel so fucking good before you had even dared to touch him, before you had even seen his body. You came and he still had his pants on. How dare he!

Though you didn’t have much time to calm down from your first orgasm or to even cuss him out for his stupidly skilled fingers, before he was slipping his fingers out of you and fumbling with his belt to lower his pants.

He let out a choked sigh as he revealed himself, the cool air kissing the hot, angry skin of his cock as it sprung free and slapped against his lower stomach. The tip just reached his belly button and smeared a little mess of precum across his navel which almost had you salivating and spreading your legs even wider like a needy pornstar.

You watched as he grabbed himself, using his wet fingers — wet with your cum, to lubricate himself. You could watch his hands move and stroke himself for years, he was clearly a little shy doing so in front of you, but you were far too excited to feel him inside of you that you had no room for embarrassment at the moment.

“You comfy there?” He asked, one hand stroking his cock while the other reached out and squeezed your inner thigh.

“Yes. I mean no, but if you make me wait any longer we’re going to have a problem,” you huff desperately, and he either didn't much care for your comfort or he saw the way your cunt was throbbing and weeping, begging to be stuffed, because he didn’t bother suggesting you move to a more comfortable spot. Instead he fought a smirk and cocked his head.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Lining himself up with your needy hole, he rubbed against you a little, feeling the tip of his cock catch on your opening. His hands then took your hips and he pulled you onto him instead of pushing himself into you.

He stretched you open nice and slowly, pulling silent moans from you as your lips fell open and your head tilted back. He wasn’t too thick that it hurt— or maybe he had just prepared you really well, which of course he did. He definitely wasn’t thin either though. The more he slid inside you, the more full you felt, like he was morphing your insides to the exact shape of him.

Your elbows, which were propping you up on the counter were sore and red and your tailbone could have been better, but that was all a problem for later. Right now, Leon was reaching balls deep inside you and his needy, shy expression as he held in his desperation to moan aloud, was far more enticing to pay attention to than any kind of pain your body was in.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, keeping him trapped deep inside you for the time being. You could feel him pulsing, feel him twitching. Though he could also definitely feel you pulsing and twitching too, as your walls gripped him and begged him not to leave. He didn’t look like he wanted to leave, not as he brought his lips to the curve of your collarbone and left featherlight kisses on your skin.

Slowly, he pulled out. And slowly, he pushed back in.

Though with each new thrust, he gained a little more speed and force. Each clap of skin against skin became louder and quicker in succession. Like a round of applause slowly ramping up after a moving performance. He soon found his preferred pace and stuck with it, needing to pull back from your collarbone so he could get a good look at your face to make sure you were enjoying yourself.

Your eyes were mostly black, no colour in them as your pupils had blown wide in lust. You always thought that you’d be more excited watching what was going on, getting to look down and watch as Leon impales you on his cock, or watch the way the muscles in his arms contract and shift as he grips you and guides your hips. However, you couldn’t take your eyes off of his. And he seemed to have the same problem.

Locked in a stare, you could see every emotion he was feeling, as he could see every emotion you were feeling. You could see how his eyebrows crinkled slightly, how his lips refused to touch as little moans and whimpers escaped him. But you could also see how he looked at you, how you knew he never ever wanted to hurt you. How he was scared to lose you.

His eyes had never been so expressive.

You lifted yourself up enough to shake your arms out a little, having lost feeling in them since resting on them. But the moment they came down on Leon’s shoulders, he was all you could feel. And thankfully, he seemed to read your mind as his hands scooped you off of the counter and held you against his body. You could feel more of him, get more contact this way. You could feel his warmth and smell his musk. He could hold you like this.

However, he was a few steps ahead of you. Holding you snuggly so as not to hurt you as he lowered you down onto the kitchen floor, he hoisted one of your legs up, high up so that when he slid back into you, you’d feel every inch, every vein, every twitch and muscle spasm.

You cried out, arching your back both from the feeling of him massaging your insides and the cool tiles of the kitchen floor pressing against your skin. You gripped at his back and shoulders desperately while he panted and whimpered into your neck. You could tell he was clenching his jaw when you heard him moan softly. Knowing your body made him feel so good made you feel even better.

“I’m so close, Leon. Don’t stop,” you whisper to him and he makes sure to keep doing exactly what he’s doing. He massages your insides and the tip of his cock continues to brush against your g-spot, and not that you need any added pleasure to help you reach the finish line, but his pelvis rubbing against yours and just barely creating friction for your clit makes it all the better.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he grunts back, his hands in your hair, gripping and caressing your locks. He doesn’t warn you when he’s about to cum but the surprise is what sends you over the edge.

He moans quietly but that only makes him sound more delicious as his hips stutter and his balls tighten. You feel each pump of his cock as thick ropes of cum paint your insides, leaving you feeling even more full and warm than before, which you didn’t know was even possible. He doesn’t stop moving though, knowing he came before you did, he doesn’t give up. But you’re cumming right there a second after him anyway.

You held your breath as electricity spread throughout your body. Your thighs tense and stiff as they twitched and shook, your backside clenched, your lips parted wide as you moaned loudly. You couldn’t see anything but white light as Leon continued thrusting slowly, rocking his hips against yours. He was watching your expressions closely, listening to the beautiful sounds you made. He wanted to see you like this again and again and again.

Your eyes closed and you let out a shaky breath finally, getting your breathing back to normal as the energy in your body slowly fizzled out. The pleasure felt like it lasted hours before it finally began to lessen, leaving you a puddle on your kitchen floor as Leon held you in his arms. The ground was cold and unpleasant but you wanted to stay here forever. With Leon.

“Oh my god…” you breathed out, reopening your eyes to look up at the man who just turned you into putty.

“Not God. That was all me,” Leon quipped lamely with a wink, which, to your annoyance, had you smiling widely and chuckling at his dumb joke. He wasn’t usually cocky and full of himself like that, but hearing him say something so corny made you somehow fall for him even more. Or maybe you were just biased after that amazing orgasm.

You rolled your eyes and playfully swatted his upper arm, to which he smiled back at you, clearly proud of himself as he rolled off of you and slipped out of you. You sighed at the feeling of being empty now and brought your knees together, feeling your mixed climaxes oozing out of you and down your backside where it inevitably dirtied the kitchen floor. Leon rolled over onto the floor beside you, his hand finding yours and softly intertwining your fingers together.

“Haven’t done that in a long while,” he breathed out as you both looked up at the ceiling. “Glad it was with you.”

Your heart fluttered at his words but you also felt a pit growing in your stomach. Was this just a casual one time thing for him? Were you just the closest person around for him to stick his dick in?

No. You saw the look in his eyes while he was with you. That was more than just casual sex that he could have had with anyone. He wanted it to be you, and you wanted it to be him. You weren’t sure if you believed in fate but this felt like it needed to happen. Not one moment felt like a mistake.

Was this love?

Love is complicated and messy but also beautiful, warm and safe. And you never felt safer than when Leon was by your side. Leon himself was complicated and messy, you knew it would be a long twisted road to get to your destination with him. There were no detours, no straight roads to where you wanted to go, but you were okay with that. It made the end goal more rewarding.

What was the end goal though? Getting married? Having kids? Sharing a house together? Apparently you weren’t even sure about the destination. But that didn’t matter.

“Will you stay?” You asked softly, staring at the ceiling, holding your breath as you waited for his reply. This would determine everything, wouldn’t it?

“If that’s what you want.” Leon nodded, turning his gaze to your face, he admired you for a brief moment before you turned to look at him as well. You brought your interlocked hands to your chest, pressing the back of his palm against where your heart would be.

“Are you dumb? Of course I want you to stay.” You frowned softly and squeezed his hand desperately, as if you were determined to never let him go. Like concrete welding you together forever.

He remained facing you but his eyes lowered to your intertwined hands, watching while he felt your heart beating against the back of his hand. How fast, how strong, how scared it was.

“I don’t want to make any promises that I can’t keep. My job, it will always be an issue. No matter what kind of relationship you want to have with me… But I will try. I’ll try my best to be here for you.” He was determined. And that was all you could ask for.

“For us,” you smiled softly, rolling onto your side to get closer to him. Your lips found his and you kissed as the sun set. Hours ticked by spent in each other's embrace, holding one another, sharing the same space, loving each other.

Love is messy and complicated. But the little moments like these make it all worth it.

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undeadcannibal · 9 months

Note

Soap with a reader that has a boot kink?

Summary: Soap teases a Reader that has a boot kink!

Pairing: Johnny “Soap” MacTavish/Reader

Genre: oneshot, smut, request(s)

Word count:780

Warnings: boot kink and nsf/t content in general.

A/N: *foams at the mouth* Y’all don’t understand -- I’d get on my hands and knees and bark like a dog if any of these men asked me to. *coughs* ANYWAY, I hope you enjoy this, Anon. It was another fun one~ ( Gif credit: xxx )

When he first finds out that you have a kink for boots and the like, he can't help but keep the information to himself for a while. Making sure not to mention that he's well aware of it whenever you're around. Instead, he chooses to think long and hard about just what he plans to do to you now that he has this information. At first, he wants to go all in and jump right into the deep end of the kink with you, but rational thinking convinces him otherwise. He decides to treat it just as seriously as he would any other kink you'd like to try with him. Before he ends up doing anything, he spends a good while just researching the kink and what those that have it particularly enjoy about it.

After he's had his fill of studying, Soap ends up spending his down time - while away from you, of course - checking up on porn related to the kink. Discovers what he likes and doesn't like about certain aspects of it. In time, when he's good and ready, that's when he finally admits that he's known for a while. However, he wanted to go about things the right way. As such, his approach isn't sexually passionate right off the bat. Instead, it's very safe, casual, and reassuring. He lets you know that even though he's aware of your kink, he won't push you to do anything you don't want to. If you aren't in the mood to indulge your fantasies in a real experience, he doesn't mind at all. If you would like to though, he's completely game. Asking you what you don't and do like about it before rushing into anything with you.

If anything, once he does have your explicit permission to do something, he goes about things leisurely. He makes sure to draw out the teasing as much as he possibly can. He lines up his pairs of boots inside your bedroom in front of you, gauging which pair you seem to like the most before selecting those exact ones. Once he's put the rest aside and changed into your favorite pair, he's ordering you to kneel on the floor before him. After you're in position, he's nudging your thighs apart with one of his feet. Delighting in the sight of your chest moving faster as your excitement picks up. For a while, he simply rubs the toe of his boot along your knees and lower thigh. Eventually, he works his way up to your inner thighs, smirking down at you as he watches your hips squirm in response to him being so close to your groin. When he finally does allow himself to slip his boot forward, your mouth parts in a soft groan the moment the toe of his boot comes in contact with your core.

"Like that, do ya' love?"

He's mean in the manner in which he strokes the toe of his boot against your mound, stroking you through the fabric of your underwear. He'd liked the thought of getting you so worked up he'd see the slick of your excitement wetting the crotch of your underwear. So much so, he picked up the movement of his ministrations: lightly digging in the toe of his boot directly beneath your clitoris and began to wiggle it. Causing you to gasp and arch your back as small sparks of pleasure began to warm a familiar fire deep within your belly. Your hands curled into fists at your sides as you struggled not to please yourself otherwise, knowing damn well Johnny would stop what he was doing until you did so.

Johnny shifted his weight from foot to foot a bit to get into a comfortable position before he picked up the pace of his teasing. Jiggling the toe beneath your sensitive bundle of nerves till he had you whining and panting for more. Practically pleading for him to do whatever he pleased so long as he made you come that way. The thought pleased Soap so much, he figured he'd indulge you sooner than he initially planned to. Praising you as he began to alternate between stimulating your clitoris by stroking the toe of his boot over the aching nub, and even pulling back just enough to lightly kick at your now slick cunt. Groaning as he watched you yelp and moan aloud, thick thighs spreading apart even further to allow him to do as he pleased.

Needless to say, by the time Johnny was done with you, he'd gotten his wish. The crotch of your underwear was sporting a dark wet spot, as well as the tip of his boot.

#call of duty x reader #task force 141 x reader #soap x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #my writing #opened mail #anonymous #requests

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circeyoru · 2 months

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Sooooo I know the readers in your stories are mainly left up to the person’s imagination butttttttt

Do you per chance imagine them a certain way? I want to make some fan art and it just always help me to have something to go off of. Any of the readers from any story will do honestly because I adore them all! Sorry to be a bother about this by the way

Oh, it's not a bother~ No worries~

Now for this ask I'm gonna use mainly {Unwanted Soul} for examples, so any spoilers for those that don't read this. Other series are mentioned here and there.

My Works: MASTERLIST (check out the series you haven't heard before would be appreciated~)

I do imagine them a certain way, cause that's how the personality and certain characteristics come out to the design of Reader. I just remove the minor details like the 'likes' or 'dislikes' that have no real meaning to the story.

Like in {Unwanted Soul} you can say you like Japanese food and dislike dogs. So? Alastor's liking you the same, if you like that type of food, he'll just learn to cook it. If you dislike dogs, then he'll avoid them. There's no obvious effect to the story as a whole or changes your character interaction.

In terms of appearance, for stories with a human Reader, I'll think if it's necessary for a certain skin colour set or like height and the like. Usually there's none cause there's no deciding factor. Otherwise, free range for you artists to draw to your liking.

As for demonic Reader, I'll think if it's necessary for a specific species. Like in {The Raven's Deer}, even though the Reader is Zestial's younger sibling, you're depicited as a raven type demon and the powers focuses around that, it's also the dynamic of a raven and deer that I was aiming for. In {Unwanted Soul}, I specifically said the species doesn't matter because the focus was on the power you possess.

Last is the unique Reader, like {The Spirit's Favourite Human}, that one is specifically stated that you're a spirit that protects the forest you manifested in, nothing else. Cause the only interest was that you are a spirit. You'd normally think of elves and forest spirits, or whatever since it's already stated.

Now I'm aware you're asking for specific format to follow in a drawing to match what I have in mind. But that's more like an OC, in my opinion. What I hope to offer in my stories of [character] x Reader is that a number of people can insert their likes and wants (basically an OC appearance) into the Reader's design without saying what's right or wrong.

You can check {Unwanted Soul}'s Demonic Design for fan art, there are some specifics I listed and clothing choices of what I had in mind. There are a few drawings that I saw already and they are fire!

Rabbit based @sparrowfleet Page Demon named Celestine @chirimeimei Jacob sheep based @oh-nowo-i-got-uwu Musical interpretation Page Demon @tash-sho-sho

In {Gone Too Young}, it's a collaboration with another account and they have shared their work and interpretations already~ But parts like eyes colour and the like can be changed~

Drawing from my collaborator @blubugg13

As for {Collection of Overlords}, I won't put out a design like {Unwanted Soul} just yet because the appearance will be more fixed and set in stone. Due to [spoiler].

So~ I suggest you wait for more parts of Collector!Reaeder to come out before anything. For the other series, you can send me spectulations or what you want to add to the design and see if it's what I had in mind, only if you want more pointers. Otherwise, let your imagination take you~!

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audie430 · 1 year

Text

BSD guys comfort you when you feel down

ft. dazai, chuuya, ranpo, atsushi

Hello beautiful! I hope you're doing well :) in honor of bungou stray dogs season 4, here are some new headcanons. I'm writing some hurt-comfort/fluff once more bc I'm a sucker for it and I'm ready for the year to be over already (only 10 days in haha💀).

Chuuya Nakahara

lmao fiesty boi

more spicy than takis

anyways

this shawty is a busy man, he has lots of work to always do so it would take him a few days to realize you're in a funk

I think he would figure out when he comes home for dinner and you arent as expressive as you usually are

he fell in love w you for how pure and adorable you areeee😭😭💕

he would ask what youre preparing for dinner and you'd answer w smth like "sigh, whatever you want. Or take out."

This boy loves your food, even if you suck at cooking

He sees you on the couch scrolling through your phone, seeing your unhappy expression

"Hey y/n.. whats wrong?"

"Hm? oh nothing, Im fine"

GIRLIE CUT THE CRAP-

hehe jkjk unless..

he would obviously not break you bc youre like invinsible and like the biggest stone walls protect your heart from being vulnerable :/

He'll tell you he's getting chinese or smth and grab his keys to leave

but in reality he goes out to the store and buys all your fav things and the things that remind him of you

this guy is rich, he will buy you everything

Imagine him coming home w ingredients for your fav meal and an extra bag w a new teddy bear and maybe even a face mask, perfume, and a new nail polish color, or maybe matching hoodiessss

"uh chuuya, what are you doing? what's that?"

"I dont know whats burdening your sweet lil head, but darling whatever it is, just acknowledge those bad feelings and set them aside. You're so strong, but I want you to rest now. I bought you something and Im gonna be cooking your favorite tonight. Go open your gift, I'll tell you when food is done."

cue your tears

"darling?"

"..thank you bub"

he'll wrap you in his arms, rubbing your head, and drawing shapes on your back

"shhh sh sh, I'm here now"

he'll grab a chair so you can hang out w him in the kitchen while he cooks

he'll softly smile everytime your face lights up while you are opening your gifts

then you'll get to the bottom of your present

a rock?

"rocks always remind me of you, silly girl"

he was your penguin, giving you the smoothest part of earth he could find

after dinner, he'll get a bath running and join you

just innocent touches on your body to help you relax and sweet nothings to help your tired mind.

you practically become jelly in his hold

he'll carry you to bed, rub your back some more

all the head kisses in the world from chuuya ofc

"sleep well, little lamb"

Osamu Dazai

im simping all over again, pls let me drown w him

i wanna cuddle and watch disney movies pls😩

depression who

this man knows the dark side, he has always had to protect himself from others

until he met you anyways

Lets say yall have been together for about 8-9 ish months. You both have opened up about your lives, but ofc not everything

Your past rises to the surface, whatever it is: its a bad memory and you break down

Im gonna say you found smth triggering while you scrolled through your cell phone

You were taking a sip of water when it happened and it caused your hand to slip

glass broken everywhere; the sound was loud and made your mind fuzzy

You couldnt move

"Dearest, i'm homeeeee🕺🏻🕺🏻🕺🏻"

literally not rn dazai-

anyway, his eyes widen. there you are on the brink of collapse

your knees are physically trembling, eyes watering and foggy

you couldnt even process dazai being there, did you even know he was there?

"y/n.. dont. move. I'll pick up the glass"

he needs to make your surroundings are safe before he can assess what the hell actually happened here

you answer him with a whimper, still trembling

he quickly sweeps the glass closest to you so he can grab your hand. you flinch but allow the touch otherwise so he can set you down

youre sitting on the floor while he picks up the rest of the glass

once he tosses the glass out into the bin, you couldnt hold it in as you started bawling

dazai quickly comes to you, he kneels in front of you trying to get your attention

thankfully you look at him and reach for him

he gently manuvers you onto his lap and allows you to curl into him

"o-osamu, I cant anymore, it.. it hurts"

the detecrive wont say anything more than a few short comforting whisperings and shushing you while he plays with your hair and gives your head a few kisses

he'll wait to move from the floor when you can breathe, and if you need a little guidance, he will see to it

"y/n, look at the palm of my hand. When we breathe in, you're gonna slowly trace all my fingers starting with my thumb, okay? You're gonna do the same thing when we breathe out. Go from the middle of my palm to the thumb, alllll the way to my pinky, can my lovely do that? here, lets do it together."

And slowly you inhale, you tickle his fingers when you trace the base of each of them up to his fingertips, then go back down to meet the following finger. You make your way back to his thumb and you exhale as you repeat the action all over again.

he'll pick your body up against his and he'll cuddle you in bed until you fall asleep

"my sweet girl, you did so well. I love you, have sweet dreams. I'll join you soon."

And when you wake up, you'll be met with your fav take out and a new spft blanket that was just in the dryer

Ranpo Edogawa

how did this man realize his feelings for you? or do you just taste like chocolate?

you knew coming into this relationship would be difficult

he's a literal child at 26

You or someone else will have to tell ranpo that you arent doing so great

in this scenario, we're gonna say someone else

kunikida: "hey ranpo, whats going on with y/n lately?"

"its probably their time of the month"

��🏻💥

he's clueless until he puts on those glasses istg

he'll give you a glance and realize you're basically sulking

your shoulders look stiff, you have bags under your eyes, you look shaky, but not sick?

he put on his glasses and it all literally clicked

"ohh so thats what it is"

"uh ranpo who are you talking to?"

"not right now astushi, youll understand when youre older"

if yall are still at work when he gets the time to start a conversation with you, he will give you a snack of your choosing

and yes he will pout

"huh you want that one?! ahh, okay.."

and then youll quickly excuse yourself to do more work to rid yourself of your negative thoughts

youll drive ranpo and yourself home. you slump on the couch, your eyes watering. You are so tired

Ranpo will sit next to you and harshly pull you into his side to kiss your head before laying your head on his lap

"I dont like it when your sad, and I'm not good with nice words, but I can listen so spit it out so I can make you feel better."

he'll hold you all night, however you'd like

and if you rant thats up to you

just know that he is right there and you're in this together♥︎

Atsushi Nakajima

rawr

he's a sweet lil angel and will do ANYTHING to make you smile

"uhm y/n, i'll turn into a tiger for you"

"hey y/n just wanted to let you know that I did the dishes!"

"hey sweetie! do you wanna cuddle, maybe?"

^his love language is def shown through actions so he will either hold you or help you through most of your chores

it all started at the beginningnof the week, you were not feeling it

it was rainy and you were exhausted: it was only monday

you both had off work and it was pouring out, so you were stuck at home

atsushi said he would start w the chores but you didnt think he meant yours too

the whole apartment was tidy and he was even making you your fav sandwhich

he even turned on your fav show before giving you lunch

he sat next to you and pulled your feet into his lap

when he was done your sandwich, he massaged your feet and ankles and even kissed your toes to make you laugh

dw, you were wearing socks

affer eating and your episode finished, atsushi decided to pull out your record player and play your fav songs

*imagine enchanted by ts playing while he spun you in the living room🥺

"ahh, atsu! hahah"

it was.. enchanting to meet you

"oh princess, you make me wonder what I did just to have you in my life"

"I love you so much, let me take care of you today, and everyday after that."

"I want to watch you walk down the aisle in a pretty white dress"

he rlly simps for you, hard

astushi will spoil you the rest of the day with lingering soft touches, give you an early present that he was saving for your birthday, make dinner too

he would run you a bath and let you borrow his favorite hoodie and blush when you smell him on it

youre so tiny in his hoodies😭😭 he absolutely adores it

and he hopes that he can forever make you smile

"I never want to be the reason to make you cry, rest now. I'll protect you tonight. Every night, I promise" *kiss

oml look yall I did it, i wrote fanfiction. I hope yall have a great new year! dont forget to give me some ideas for work in the future, I will love yout input! have a lovely day, gorgeous :)

#bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #osamu dazai #atsushi nakajima #ranpo edogawa #bungou stray dogs ranpo #edogawa ranpo imagines #osamu dazai icons #chuuyabsd #chuuya supremacy #chuuya fluff #bungou stray dogs chuuya

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sarahowritesostucky · 2 months

Text

📖"The Carter Academy for Omega Excellence" Pt 8

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: age gap, boarding school au, a/b/o, dub-con/non-con, spanking, feminization, dumbification, sexism, misogyny, prostate milking, discipline, D/s elements, hurt/comfort, mentions of past self-harm, predatory behavior, teacher/student, bathroom use control, humiliation, omorashi

Summary: Bucky Barnes is young, confused, and conflicted - a real "rebel without a cause" type. His parents ship him off to Steve's reform school to help him get straightened out into a "proper young omega."

Wait! I haven't read an earlier part of this fic! Story Masterlist

I've gotten a couple of asks about the worldbuilding behind this fic. If you'd like to read a little more context about how things are in this world, my answers to the asks can be found here and here

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Part 8

"Extended Suppressant Use in the Omega Patient: a literature review" (Mueller et al. 2019)

The bathroom incident does not give Steve high hopes of an easy first week with Barnes. Many new students wind up requiring extra attention in their early days at the school, so Steve is honestly surprised when he isn’t paged that Tuesday with a similar fiasco. He’s outright impressed when Wednesday and then most of Thursday passes by with no incidents, either. Whatever Sharon’s doing, it must be working well.

Steve can’t say he doesn’t think about the boy regardless. He can’t help but remember their encounter in the bathroom; holding him down and dominating him into submission, pressing on his belly until he finally lost control. The sounds of the boy’s sweet whimpers are burned into Steve’s memory, the earthy and lightly floral hints of his scent still so easy to draw up in his mind. It’s a good thing that this is a busy week for Steve, otherwise he’d hate to think of how much more preoccupied he’d be by thoughts of his new omega charge.

As it is, his schedule is chock full, his time eaten up with all of his normal headmaster duties (which are considerable), seeing through the end stages of the Academy’s formal division between the girls’ and boys’ sides, and a renovation that they’ve got going on in the south wing corridor. All of that, coupled with the small squabbles that Peggy manages to come up with on an almost daily basis, helps to keep Steve’s mind occupied. And on top of everything, there’s still a lot to be done for the upcoming parents’ weekend.

He spends most of that Thursday morning dealing with matters directly related to the event that is, in essence, their biggest fundraiser of the year. All day, he's coordinating with his faculty; making sure that everything’s been ordered, scheduled, and arranged just how it needs to be to give the right impression to their guests, provide the right experience.

It’s crucial that all of the right people be well taken care of over the three day weekend, in order to ensure that their endowments to the school keep flowing in. Steve liaises with his staff over the details of the family picnic, the various assemblies and presentations that will be made, the planned activities for each afternoon and dinners that’ll be hosted each evening, and—perhaps most important of all—the formal presentation ball that caps off the weekend of festivities. This year they’re having a few ice sculptures flown in from Edinburgh. Silly in Steve's view, but a classic touch of extravagance that the guests will appreciate.

European nobility, old-money aristocrats, and even some high profile celebrities have been known to show up to the school’s annual matchmaking ball, always seeking amenable, traditional omega mates for themselves. And when your guest lists regularly include names like Vanderbilt, Kennedy, and Stark, good first impressions become very expensive and very necessary. Last term, a Greek shipping heir worth billions had scooped up one of the graduating class’ students, and once news of that had gotten around, enrollment for the next semester skyrocketed.

Steve takes great pride in the academic education provided by his school, but he’s also a realist: He knows that parents place high value on the promise of even a chance for their offspring to be so suitably matched. That, along with the behavioral outcomes the school is known for achieving, is a big reason why many families elect to send their sons to Carter Academy over other, similar schools on the continent.

With so much to get done, Steve doesn’t get around to eating his lunch that day until well into the afternoon. He eats alone at his desk—a decision that has very little to do with the fact that he can monitor the school’s video surveillance system from his desktop computer. It’s not because he wants to check up on Bucky and hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the kid since Monday. Nope, not at all. Steve always uses the camera system to check in on the happenings around campus, it’s nothing new. And it’s good practice, anyway. A headmaster needs to be involved in his school for it to run smoothly.

If Bucky’s seventh period class is gym, and the gymnasium is the first area Steve decides to check, well that’s just happenstance.

He logs into the system and scrolls through the long list of camera views. He has the most heavily trafficked areas bookmarked, but there are hundreds to choose from, every inch of the Academy’s buildings and grounds monitored by the StarkTec cameras.

Carter Academy has its own dedicated security team to keep an eye on things, of course. Rumlow and his men do a very good job of making sure the close to three hundred hormonal teenage boys that the school houses stay in line. Every year there are inevitably fights, students caught in each other’s bedrooms at the wrong hours for the wrong reasons, or a few runaways who gravely underestimate the distance and terrain between Carter Academy and the nearest town. Nothing that isn’t always quickly remedied, but parents appreciate the close eye that Steve and the rest of his administration are able to keep on their children at all hours of the day.

He navigates to the camera views of the gymnasium and sports complex. The majority of students get scheduled for some sort of physical activity at the end of each school day. Exercise is important for omega bodies, and the gym period is thus positioned after all academic lessons have concluded, to allow for the running off of excess energy. It’s a time when their Handlers can take their well-deserved breaks. With only Mr. Odinson and the other Phys-ed staff looking after so many boys, gym period can get quite chaotic, and it predictably takes Steve a few moments to locate Bucky in the throng.

Eventually he sees him: loitering off to one side of the indoor soccer field, half heartedly kicking a ball back and forth with the Parker boy. He’s changed into his gym uniform, though he hardly seems to be exerting himself. Rather, he’s in deep conversation with Parker, which Steve is happy to see. Every first year student coming into Carter Academy usually struggles at first, but it’s always a good sign when they make friends quickly. Parker, who can normally be found bouncing off the complex’s obstacle courses, seems to have dialed it down a notch to hang out with Bucky, the two of them talking animatedly between themselves. Steve even catches Bucky smiling a time or two, which lifts his hopes that the kid will assimilate well into his new routine. Perhaps this won’t be as hard as he’d imagined.

“Sir?”

He flicks off the monitor when his secretary knocks at the door. “Yes?”

“Ms. Carter here to see you, Sir.”

Sharon comes in, and the two of them hold their pre-planned meeting about Barnes’ first days on campus and how Sharon has assessed his needs so far. Barnes is attitudinal, but Sharon seems to be amused by him, more than anything else. She hands over her recommendations for protocol, telling Steve that she’s not sure a male handler wouldn’t be in the boy’s best interest.

“Oh?” Steve raises an eyebrow as he’s perusing her checkmarks along the list. “Why do you say that?”

“You’ve seen what a handful he can be,” Sharon drawls. “Not that I don’t think I can handle him, but he responds more submissively to the male staff, and I think he’s primarily same-sex oriented.”

“You think?” Bucky’s transcripts from his old school had noted that he was equally as promiscuous with boys as he was with girls.

“Yes. And after Monday’s bathroom incident, I think he might do better with a man.” At the mention of ‘the bathroom incident’, Sharon fixes him with a meaningful look. “He responded well with you.”

Steve nods, flipping through the assessment packet. “Yes, well I am the headmaster. They tend to kowtow faster to me.” He tries to think of which male Handlers he has available at the moment. Typically, he doesn't over-prioritize students’ attractions when placing them with a Handler, as romantic attachment is something to be avoided at all costs, but if it’s a behavioral issue that can be corrected with something as simple as the gender of an assigned Handler, then Steve will consider it. “Thank you Sharon,” he tells her, once they’ve wrapped up the meeting. “It sounds like he’s doing alright, so I’ll keep him with you for now.”

“You’re the boss.”

“Alas, yes.” Steve sighs and so does Sharon, mocking him in a friendly sort of way. When she heaves a genuinely heavy inhale and declares that she has to 'get back to the grind', Barnes’ seventh period is almost over, Steve steps in. “Why don't I take him off your hands for the evening?” he suggests. Sharon looks pleased, but not overly surprised, her knowing smirk making Steve feel the need to defend himself, “It’s been a few days now, I should check in with him.”

“Sure.”

Steve frowns at her continued smug expression. “He’s got an appointment with the doc I need to escort him to, anyways.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Sharon is still smirking when she bids him farewell, leaving the office to take the rest of her day off.

Steve huffs and rolls his eyes. Whatever. He’s not giving Bucky any more attention than he’d give any other troubled new student. He grabs the boy’s folder and rolls out from his desk, planning to head for the gymnasium complex and intercept him there.

… If he checks his reflection in the little mirror by the door on his way out, it’s only because he always does that and it's habit at this point. It’s the professional thing to do, to make sure one looks put together before heading back out in public. Certainly it doesn’t have anything to do with how he’s heading out to deal with Barnes. That’s just happenstance.

Seeing Bucky again after several days is refreshing, and seeing him being friendly with another student brings a literal smile to Steve’s face. This is a good sign. It bodes well for how Bucky will do adapting to his new life.

Peter Parker can be hyperactive and spirited, but he’s a sweet boy at heart with a solid head on his shoulders and a brain between his ears that he actually chooses to use more often than not. He’s done well in the Academy’s program, and he’ll be an excellent person for Bucky to attach himself to during his time here. Steve stands by the gymnasium door with a delighted smirk on his face, because he really couldn’t have chosen better himself.

The boys still have a few minutes left to their gym period when Steve gets there, so he leaves them to their uninspired soccer ball kicking and goes to touch base with Odinson in the athletic director’s office. Thor is all smiles and has nothing negative to say about any of the boys, as per usual, and Steve thanks him and tells him to make a note that perhaps Barnes could be encouraged to put a little more effort in and try out the parkour courses or the rock walls with Parker, moving forward.

He intercepts Bucky just as he’s coming out of the locker rooms. His hair is curling at the edges after having showered (amusing—the boy was barely exerting himself) and changed back into his regular uniform. The relaxed expression falls right off of his face when he sees Steve standing there. “Oh,” he says, coming up short. “You.”

Steve smiles indulgently. “Yes, I’m afraid. Me.”

“Hey Bucky I’ll see you at dinner maybe?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says distractedly, eyes still on Steve. “Sounds good.”

Parker heads off with his handler—Natasha, Steve notes, one of the very best and most dominant females he keeps on staff. "Making friends?" Steve asks.

Bucky ignores the question. “Why’re you here?” he asks mulishly, as Steve begins escorting him in the direction of the medical office. “Where’s Sharon?”

“Sharon’s taking a well-deserved break,” Steve drawls. "She and I had a progress meeting about you in my office, just now.”

Bucky gets tightlipped then and doesn’t say anything, but Steve can see the wheels and cogs turning in his head as he wonders what was said about him. “She had mostly good or neutral things to report,” Steve offers, figuring the boy could use some reassurance. “But of course, I already knew from our interaction on Monday that you're having some difficulties adapting to school protocol.”

Bucky scowls at the floor as they walk. “Just because I don’t like pissing in front of people every day,” he grumbles. “At least we get some privacy to shit around here. Go figure.”

Steve laughs, then decides to strike the fear of God into the boy by remarking, “Oh, that’s a privilege that can be stripped away, too, if needed,” as they approach the end of the hall where the medical offices are. Bucky’s eyes shoot up to him, wide as saucers, and Steve snickers. “Yeah, I know. A true case of a ‘this is going to hurt me more than it’s going to hurt you’ punishment, that’s for certain.”

Bucky all but ‘meeps!’ and Steve snickers and puts a hand on his back to guide him into the office. “Appointment for James Barnes,” he tells the receptionist, who immediately starts checking the computer screen.

Bucky turns on Steve, leery, as he gets a look at their surroundings. “What’s going on? Why are we here?”

Steve ignores him until he’s gotten the go ahead from the receptionist and is guiding Bucky back towards one of the exam areas. “Just a check up. Standard practice for incoming students.” He pushes Bucky into the curtained off area and draws the curtain around to Bucky’s squawks of protest.

“What?! I don’t need to see anybody. I’m totally healthy.”

“That’s the goal. But we need to get you checked out, make sure there’s nothing that needs addressed.” Bucky opens his mouth to complain again, but Steve beats him to the chase, bending to pick him up by the waist and depositing his protesting butt onto the exam table. “Sit.”

“Hey!” Bucky’s scowling, but Steve doesn’t miss the light flush in his face at having been manhandled and reminded of his size and comparative weakness in the face of an alpha like Steve. He doesn’t try to get off the table at least, only shifting in annoyance and making the paper cover crinkle under his butt. “Could’a done it myself,” he grumbles.

Steve shakes his head fondly. “We need to get you examined. Behave, or I’ll have no problem with disciplining you while you’re under my care." Bucky goes tight-lipped at that. Steve nods in satisfaction. "Good."

“When’s Sharon coming back?”

“I told you: she’s been given a well-deserved night off. You’re with me until bedtime, young lady.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Steve sighs and shakes his head. What might’ve been considered affectionate a generation ago, now elicits only indignation and pushback. It’s sad. “Just behave for the doctor, will you?”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, but when the nurse arrives and introduces herself, he’s generally obedient as she runs through his medical history with him. He speaks more quietly when answering the questions about his sexual health, but Steve doesn't get the sense that he's lying—only that he doesn't want Steve to overhear. (Steve still hears everything, including the boy's very reluctant answer of having had "thirty something" past sexual partners).

Far from evoking displeasure, it mostly just makes Steve sad for the boy. Omegas may have very high sex drives, but they don't fare well in promiscuous situations. Bucky's lack of a reliable partner is probably one of the major contributors to his present mental health issues.

Steve remains quiet and allows Bucky his illusion of privacy on the other side of the curtained off area. The nurse listens to Bucky's heart and lungs, charts his blood pressure and other vitals, and takes a blood draw. It isn’t until she hands him a privacy sheet and tells him to undress below the waist that he kicks up a fuss. “What?"

“The doctor will be right in to do the pelvic exam.”

“What? No. Why?!”

Used to tantrums, the nurse completely disregards him and looks to Steve. “Headmaster?”

“I’ve got him.” The nurse nods and leaves, and Bucky starts to move to try and get off the exam table. Steve rolls his eyes and goes over and pushes him back into place. “Not so fast, son. Now if you can’t behave we’ll have to do this the hard way.”

“What’s the hard way?”

“Strapped face down on a bench,” he tells him, no-nonsense (though really, that's the easier way for omegas. He just knows Bucky will fight it more). “And that'll earn you a guaranteed spanking in my office, after.”

Bucky growls an angry little omega growl at him, “Why do I have to do this? What’s the friggin’ point?!”

With his hands clamped on Bucky’s shoulders, Steve bends down and gets in his face. “Because you were popping suppressants for two years, Honey. That stuff can cause all sorts of problems.”

“No it can’t!”

Steve ignores him and gives him a warning look to keep him in place. He reaches down and pulls one of the exam table’s metal stirrups out, which makes the kid even more visibly upset.

When Steve reaches under the skirt of his uniform to get his underwear down, Bucky growls and tries to kick him, nearly kneeing him right in the nose. Oh. That does it. Steve gives up on playing nice, standing up and grabbing him, using one hand to scruff him while he wraps the other around his waist. “Okay, bud. That was your one chance. If you’re gonna be difficult, we’ll do it your way. Let’s go.”

“Nngh! Lemme go!”

“Calm down, Honey. Stop fighting, it’s not going to work.”

The kid whimpers and goes limp for a few seconds from the endorphins of the scruff, but still wiggles in Steve’s arms once he’s manhandled him into the next exam room over—where there’s an exam bench quite similar in function to a traditional spanking bench. Bucky balks when he sees it. “No! Wait!” It takes laughably little effort to get the boy face down on the bench. Steve gets him strapped to it, and by the time he’s removing his underwear and securing his ankles, all the fight has left Bucky and he’s begging instead. “Please, Mr. Rogers. I’m really sorry.”

Steve grabs the room’s extra chair and pulls it over to sit by his head. “I know Buck. This won’t take long. Just try to relax.”

“Please lemme up. I’m sorry. I’ll go back. I’ll do it the other way, I will!”

“Can’t do that, Sweetheart. We need to check that everything’s alright and you’ve proven to me that you can’t be trusted to hold still.” He might’ve considered the request to go back and ‘do it the other way’, if he didn’t already know full well that the prone position is much more soothing for omegas to be in. “This’ll be better,” he promises. “It’ll help you stay relaxed. It feels nice to be strapped in like this, yeah?”

“But I don’t want tooo,” Bucky whines, not refuting Steve’s statement, and with less fight in him as he realizes that he’s been stripped of all control. “It’s embarrassing.”

Steve smiles sadly and pets his face. “It’s for your own good, Sweetheart. Something every omega has to do. The doctor’s just going to come in and use a tool to examine you and make sure everything’s alright. It’ll hardly take a minute.”

Bucky sniffles and turns his face into Steve’s hand, nuzzling his inner wrist and subconsciously seeking out the alpha’s scent for comfort. “Will it hurt?” he whispers.

Steve’s heart constricts—both at the question and the scenting behavior. “No, Honey. Of course not. Haven’t you ever had a reproductive health exam?” It’s supposed to be a standard part of healthcare after an omega’s first heat, but with only two beta parents in the home, Steve doesn’t know why he’s surprised. “It won’t hurt,” he reassures him. “Just relax down against the bench and be good from now on, and we won’t do a punishment spanking after, okay?”

“Really?” Bucky is clearly motivated by this promise, as he stops sniveling as much and nods when the doctor comes in. “Okay,” he says quietly, and Steve smiles and praises him,

“Good girl.”

The school’s doctor is a calm and friendly beta male, and though he doesn’t make any attempt to ascertain Bucky’s consent or opinion on what they’re doing there today, he does speak calmly to Bucky and talk him through each and every step of what happens, before it happens. Steve stays sitting right in front of Bucky the whole time, holding his hand and keeping his own wrist up by Bucky’s face so that the boy can continue to use his scent to self-soothe.

Bucky goes red in the face as soon as the doctor flips his uniform up and starts palpating and examining his genitals. Even though Bucky's almost certainly trying his absolute best not to get aroused, the faint scent of slick still hits the air after only a moment or two, and he cringes and whines in embarrassment. "Hngh ..."

“It’s okay,” Steve murmurs, trying to placate him with the words and a gentle rumble in his chest. “It’s completely normal to have a reaction. The doc's used to it. No big deal.” Frankly, for an omega to be touched between their legs and not become aroused would be cause for concern. They’re so sensitive down there that it’s to be virtually expected. But Steve can tell that this is little comfort to Bucky, who goes even redder in the face when the doctor hums in agreement and makes an additional comment about Bucky's arousal responses being healthy.

“I’m going to prep the speculum now,” he tells Bucky. “It’ll be cool and hard, but it won’t hurt you.”

Bucky whines in mortification, his eyes clenching shut. Steve shushes him and pets his hair, which he seems to like because he pushes into it and untenses somewhat. Steve knows the precise second that the speculum goes in though, because Bucky's eyes pop right back open and he makes a small, shocked sound of, “Oh!"

Steve cups his face and tries to keep his attention. “Hey, you’re doing so good,” he praises, swiping his thumb at the corner of the omega’s eye, right where an overwhelmed tear has broken out. “Doesn’t hurt, right?”

Bucky trembles and shakes his head. “N-no.” He whimpers when the doctor does something from behind, and then his eyes go a little unfocused. “Oh …” The next time he whines, it’s verging a little closer to a moan of pleasure than one of sheer worry. “Ohnn… nngh, just … mmm, s’weird.”

Steve tuts sympathetically, slightly aroused himself at seeing Bucky react this way. He clears his throat and tries to remain professional. “I know, Sweetheart, I know it’s a lot. Just hang in there for me.” He meets the doctor’s eyes from over Bucky’s back, shooting him an anxious look.

The doctor nods. “Everything seems fine, Headmaster Rogers. He’s just a little swollen.”

“Swollen?” Steve straightens, concerned. “Is it bad? He was on oral suppressants for about two years.”

The doctor smirks and shakes his head. “No, not that kind of swollen, Sir.”

“Oh.” Steve’s shoulders untense. "I see." He's maybe read a few too many medical journal articles since Bucky told him on Monday that he'd been on suppressants. "Good. That's ... good."

The doctor hums and looks back down, examining Bucky for another long moment before humming in approval and removing the speculum. Bucky’s back slumps and he makes another tiny noise—this time one of relief. “Is it over?”

The doctor pats his hip with an approving nod. “He’s a healthy boy. Nothing to indicate any lasting effects from the medication.” Over Bucky’s back, he meets Steve’s eyes again. “The risk for complications doesn’t go up very high until after the five year mark. We’ll wait on his bloodwork, but I expect it’ll all come back normal.”

“Oh, good.” Steve can’t help but be relieved. He’s definitely read too many articles, seen too many students come through the school's infirmary with much more serious side effects. “So no chance of infertility?”

“Very low,” the doctor reassures, even as Bucky makes a hurt little sound of concern over hearing that possibility. The doctor rolls his stool out from behind Bucky, pulling off his exam gloves and tossing them in the waste bin. “Nope. He looks perfectly normal, Headmaster, both inside and out. From the state of things I’d say he’s about midway through his cycle. So you can expect a heat within the next two weeks.”

Steve nods. “Yes, he reported as much. He's used an app for tracking on his phone.”

“Oh. Would you email that data?” The doctor is already standing and heading for the curtain that divides their little area from the rest of the room. “It’ll be good to have in his records.”

“Sure thing. Thanks, doc.”

“Of course.” At the edge of the exam area, he looks back at Steve. “Ahm … he’s fairly aroused right now.”

Steve smirks. “I know.”

“Right.” The doctor glances back at Bucky, then to Steve. “I can send one of the nurses in, if you have anywhere to be.”

Steve shakes his head and dismisses the man. “That’s alright. He’s mine for the evening. I’ll handle it.”

Reassured, the doctor nods and ducks out around the curtain. He’s barely gone for a second before Bucky’s shifting in place on the table. “Um, Mr. Rogers?”

Steve looks back down. Bucky is blinking at him, flustered and uncertain. Steve pats his shoulder. “You did really well, Bucky.” He stands up and goes behind him, over to the room’s glove dispenser. He pulls out one of the large sized nitrile gloves and pulls it on. “How’re you feeling?”

“Uhm. Okay.” Bucky can’t see him from his position, so he wiggles impatiently. “Can you help me to, erm, get off of here?”

“Hmm.” Steve walks over and sits on the doctor’s abandoned rolling stool. He rolls to Bucky’s side, popping into his field of vision and giving him a knowing look. “You sure you don’t want help with this first?” At ‘this’, he lets his gloved hand touch Bucky’s flank, edging closer to his exposed backside. He watches as the boy's eyes widen and his cheeks colors anew. “It’s okay to ask for help,” he reassures. “You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” Bucky lies.

Steve arches an eyebrow. “You sure? Masturbation isn’t allowed. Did you remember that rule? You need to ask the staff if you need release.”

Bucky huffs angrily. “Why not? Why do we have to ask you guys? Why can’t we just—”

Steve taps his ass lightly, more to get his attention than anything else. “Submission, Honey. We’ve been over this already. That’s what everything here comes back to: learning to depend on somebody who can take care of you and give you what you need. You have strong sexual urges, and that’s okay. It’s completely natural. But you need to learn to turn to your alpha to get your needs met., otherwise they never fully will be.”

Bucky pouts. “You’re not my alpha.”

“That collar around your neck says different. And so does the paperwork your parents signed.” Bucky's face twists into a frustrated moue, stubborn little thing. Steve sighs. “Hey, I know you didn't choose this. I’m your official alpha right now, but one day you’ll find someone you actually want to be with, someone you want to marry and have a family with. All these rules you're learning are just to help you adopt healthy habits. So you can model correct relationship patterns.”

"I already do."

Steve snorts. "Honey, casually sleeping with 'thirty-something' people by your age is not a healthy relationship pattern."

"You just want us all to be lily white virgins."

Steve rolls his eyes as he rolls the stool farther back towards Bucky’s backside. "Certainly not. But hookup culture only serves irresponsible alphas and betas. It doesn't do anything to help you guys with your needs for bonding hormones."

"Another scientific study?" Bucky sneers.

"You got it." Steve looks down, a quick glance showing him what he already knew he’d find: a wet and swollen, little pink rim, clenching hard on nothing. He tuts sympathetically. "Oof. That looks painful."

“Hey, don’t … don’t look,” Bucky complains.

“Oh, hush.” Steve pats his butt—he really does have the sweetest little ass. “You’re very beautiful, Bucky. Every part of you is.”

That, right there, is Steve stepping over the line. Oh, he’s got no qualms about personally appreciating the form of an attractive young omega student, it’s only natural for him to find Bucky beautiful. What’s less appropriate is him commenting on it. Because, to be blunt, not every student in Steve’s care is traditionally attractive. Steve’s still responsible for helping them all equally, and thus it’s always been his policy to avoid complimenting students on their looks when possible. It avoids hurt feelings, subverts any competition between the students who are more naturally prone to jealousy over their shared Alpha headmaster.

But the words are out of his mouth before he can think better of it, and Bucky reacts obviously in the way that he flushes and squirms, instinctively pleased at being approved of in such a way. Steve decides that, since it’s just the two of them alone, he might as well let his guard down a little bit. Bucky’s shown a propensity for skewed thinking, after all, and he needs to be helped to form a positive self image. “You’ve got a lovely body, Buck. Even here.” At ‘here’, he lets his thumb dip a little further into his crack, not touching his hole, but pulling his cheek out enough to get a really good look at the sweet little clench of his rim. Steve hums appreciatively. “Just like the doc said: very healthy.”

Bucky whines and squirms. “Let me up.”

“I can do that. But you’re very wet, Honey.” Steve reaches down between Bucky's legs to glance fingers over his stiff little prick. “And hard.”

“Nnn.”

“You’re not going to have a very pleasant evening if I leave you like this. Are you sure you don’t want some relief?”

Bucky’s body stays tensed, his asshole blurting out more slick from Steve’s hand touching him even just that little bit. He seems to consider it as a real option for a moment, waffling over his decision, but eventually gets out a terse little, “No,” forcing himself to ignore what his body needs. “I don’t.”

“Really?”

“I don’t want you to do it,” he grits.

Steve sighs, not too surprised by that. Bucky’s still resentful of the one person who has complete authority over him. Steve'll probably be the last person he yields to. That’s the way it often goes with the bullheaded kids: they come around to their teachers first, Handlers second, and submit to Steve as their alpha last of all. It’s to be expected, but Steve can’t say he isn’t more disappointed than usual, in this case.

Because he isn't lying to the kid just to improve his self esteem: Bucky really is uncommonly beautiful. A handsome, small but strong boy who is exactly Steve’s preferred type when it comes to omegas. And his scent is … Well, all omegas smell lovely, but Bucky's scent is unusually fascinating.

Ever since that first day in Steve's office, when he'd submitted with such an easily provoked release, Steve’s wanted to get a better sense of him. This would have been the perfect chance to do that. Steve would’ve relished the chance to coax an orgasm out of him today, but if Bucky needs more time to truly relax into it, then he's willing to wait. Not like there won’t be plenty of opportunities in the future, once the boy's sexual urges have built up enough to have him eagerly submitting.

Steve closes his eyes and takes one last, indulgent inhale of that spiced, floral scent that’s only made stronger by the arousal. Viburnum, he realizes. That’s what it reminds him of. It clings to the edges of the earthy undertones of Bucky's scent, enhancing it to something truly alluring. Regretfully, Steve pats his hip and rolls away on the stool. “Okay,” he says, trying not to let the disappointment come through in his voice. “That’s alright, Sweetheart. I’ll have the nurse sent in to help you.”

“What? No.” Bucky twists his head in the restraints once again to look back at Steve where he’s removing the medical glove and standing up. His eyes widen when he sees the blue glove going into the waste bin, not having realized that Steve had donned it, having literally been prepared to finger him to orgasm. His mouth works helplessly for a moment, open and shut in a loss for words. “I don’t want anybody to do it.”

Steve walks back around in front of him and crouches down to his level, fixing him with a doubtful look. “Well that’s your choice, Honey. But you still won’t be allowed to touch yourself, you do realize that? If you change your mind after lights out tonight, then you’ll have to wait all the way until tomorrow morning to get a staff member to give you any relief.”

Bucky pretends to be unaffected, but Steve can see the brief flash of panic in the boy’s eyes at the prospect of going that much longer without an orgasm. “Fine,” he says, putting on a brave face. “I don’t care.”

Steve isn’t a fool. He knows that Bucky is almost certainly planning to break the rules and touch himself at the first available opportunity. Still, some lessons can’t be taught until mistakes are made and bad behavior corrected, so Steve nods and stands up to start unbuckling the bench’s restraints. “Okay, your choice, bud."

Bucky climbs off the bench once he’s able to, and Steve hands him his underwear to put on. His little prick is completely erect as he hurriedly pushes the uniform’s skirt back down, and he winces in discomfort as he pulls up the two layers of his underwear and gets them into place on his oversensitive body. “Ugh,” he huffs quietly. “Stupid.”

Steve chuckles, though he honestly feels more pity for the kid than anything. Bucky’s regret over having turned down an orgasm is so obvious it’s near palpable, his scent still rich with arousal. And just like Steve knows without a doubt that the back of the boy's underwear is already getting a wet spot, he also knows that he'll be checking the dormitory’s security feed later that night. With the level of certainty he has over Bucky’s plans to break the rules and touch himself, Steve figures he might as well start planning out what corrective measures they’ll inevitably be instituting as punishment.

“Come on,” he says, putting an arm around the kid’s shoulders and guiding him out of the room. “It’s dinner time. You must be getting hungry.”

Bucky says that he isn’t, but his stomach betrays him by growling loudly not two seconds after.

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thesinglesjukebox · 29 days

Text

CHAPPELL ROAN - "GOOD LUCK, BABE!"

youtube

Good Song, Babe!

[7.76]

Alfred Soto: Hey, y'all, Spotify played "Good Luck, Babe!" after ILLIT's "Magnetic" -- are the streaming gods Jukebox-friendly? Maybe a synth line patterned after Wham!'s "Last Christmas" and a vocal that commands attention despite singing a line like "sexually explicit kinda love affair." Then again, that's how people talk. [8]

Jeffrey Brister: What if the narrator of “I Kissed A Girl” was a fucking liar whose inability to admit her attraction and healthily process and metabolize her emotions made her so transparently readable her spurned girlfriend shot a bullet made of yearning, resentment, and justifiably venomous smugness directly between her eyes? [9]

Taylor Alatorre: I have a soft spot for music that performs a kind of empowerment driven by romantic spite, while at the same time being precision-engineered to make the singer look small-minded and weak to the sober bystander; this is why I can never forswear Drive-Thru Records or pre-2016 Drake. In that vein, "Good Luck, Babe!" can be heard as a more ideologically palatable version of "Hotline Bling," right down to the self-degrading tinniness of the initial backing synths. Both songs construct a character whose presumptuous sense of entitlement becomes more apparent with time, and both ask us to sympathize with that character, not in spite of that entitlement, but because of it. Because relatability, and because we're hard-wired to believe almost any convenient lie if it's made to sound pretty enough. Chappell Roan's relative vocal restraint here represents her attempt to come off as the reliable narrator, to prevent too many of her unnervingly real feelings from spilling over. It's an effort that comes undone as soon as she gets to the bridge, when she drops the blasé affect, claims the power of omniscience, and uses it to peer into her rival suitor's future bedroom. "You're nothing more than his wife" -- sure, whatever you need to tell yourself. What, too cynical, you say? Whichever reading the listener goes with, they're choosing cynicism, either the listener's toward Chappell or Chappell's toward the other girl, who at the end of the day may just be a garden-variety bisexual; we're not allowed to know. Love is still a battlefield in the 2020s, queer love not excepted, and "Good Luck, Babe!" isn't afraid to show off the sometimes gory aftermath of those battles, caked in just enough gloss to give us the option of seeing something different in it. A potent cocktail of unraveling passions and high-grade copium, it arrives just in time to be used in AMVs of the final season of Sound! Euphonium, otherwise known as the official anime of yuri-baiting. Good luck, Kumiko! [8]

Will Adams: A breakup song directed at a queer person who was clearly uncertain, self-conscious and anxious about their identity leading them to push a great thing away? Oof. I'm the problem, it's me! But any discomfort I have with seeing myself in "Good Luck, Babe" is assuaged by its giant hooks, a bridge that mounts the tension (sadly, a rarity for pop at this point), and Dan Nigro's production, which draws from the same pillow-soft '80s synthpop of "So Hot You're Hurting My Feelings." It's the sugar to help the medicine go down. [8]

Leah Isobel: I'm convinced that Taylor caused a lesbian pop revolution. Not on purpose, obviously, but perhaps inevitably; of course her simultaneous insistence on both the femininity and the import of her perspective would inspire a generation of gay girls young enough to look for validation from pop culture and old enough to perform deep reads on the line "she's cheer captain and I'm on the bleachers." Some of those artists have even made minor commercial breakthroughs, though nothing has heralded the arrival of a real-deal pop star the way that "Good Luck, Babe!" has. On a musical level, I don't know if I see it. It's catchy, sure, but its chorus isn't quite as singalongable as "Red Wine Supernova," and it doesn't sell Chappell as a persona the way "Pink Pony Club" does. Its production and vocal delivery are so arch that all I can see are the references: a little Wham! synth here, a little Marina & The Diamonds-circa-The Family Jewels whoop there, a "Bags" melodic bite for good measure. (Sidebar: I'm compiling this for an eventual piece about how Immunity is the most influential pop album of the last decade no one steal this from me thank you!) But maybe that's it. A pop star is voracious, ambitious, all-consuming; she cannibalizes. What "Good Luck, Babe!" offers isn't mushy sincerity, but steely-eyed purpose. I don't love it, but I do respect it. [7]

Hannah Jocelyn: I've written so much about about the power of "Good Luck, Babe" but I don't think it's perfect. Among my nitpicks; the "sexually explicit kinda love affair" line doesn't land, the ending nearly kills the momentum, and I've always heard some weird aliasing artifacts on the hi-hats, even in the 24/48 flac download (which might be the nerdiest thing I've ever written on TSJ). But there’s a reason I've been obsessed with this song, and it's not just because I've wound up The Other Woman in emotional affairs with queer/questioning women before. I wasn't as on board with Roan at first, then this song made me go back and get acquainted with the Femininomenon. Unlike most of Midwest Princess, this is not OMG I'm a girl??? and I like GIRLS??? music, and unlike several similar songs about loving women in denial, it's not self-pitying. This feels more real, with palpably complex emotions underneath the showy vocals, and it feels messy in a way that queer pop stars were once supposed to avoid. I could go on and on, and I have, but I'll say this: I genuinely think this song will change lives and cause people to reconsider their identities. At least one of my friends has already mentioned crying to this song. I recently spoke with a music writer that claimed music wasn't necessary, but for the right person, some songs are. [9]

Alex Clifton: I don’t know what I can say about this song that Hannah didn’t already say in her excellent Billboard article, but I’ll try. Up until now Chappell Roan has been my good-time music, with tracks like “Pink Pony Club” and “Red Wine Supernova” regularly stuck in my head. She’s a girl from small-town Missouri in full drag regalia aiming to give everyone a great time, and she constantly delivers on that front. “Good Luck, Babe!” sounds happy but is one of the more lyrically devastating songs I’ve heard this year, and Roan’s performance is incredible. The way she screams “I TOLD YOU SO” at the end of the bridge rips at something in my heart. It’s angry as all hell but also has a level of concern; Roan doesn’t want the subject to end up in a dead-end relationship and just wishes she’d get her shit together. It’s a delicate line to thread but goes to show that Chappell Roan isn’t just a novelty pop writer. It’s exhilarating watching someone’s star rise, and to watch this song specifically become the catalyst for additional recognition is unlike anything I’ve seen before. [10]

Ian Mathers: I was hugely impressed with "Casual," even more so with Roan's first record overall, but I'm lightly gobsmacked here with how quickly she's put out something else that simultaneously feels like it could have been on The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess, like it sums up what that album was doing (and how well it does it), and like she's already moved past her work there. And it's her most successful single so far? It very much feels like things are going to keep going up from here. [10]

Jackie Powell: When “Good Luck, Babe!” came out last month, it wasn’t what I was expecting on my first listen. I got a tease from friends about what this song was about, but I was underwhelmed by the fact that I couldn’t clearly understand the story that Chappell Roan worked very hard on constructing. Her vocal style on other tracks like “Red Wine Supernova” or “Casual” is much more based in her chest voice and as a result is much easier to lyrically comprehend while listening. On “Good Luck, Babe!” Roan slurs a lot. She opts to implement much more mixing in her head voice during the hook which matches the sonic feel of the synths and drum machine that producer Dan Nigro has added in. The hook flutters and it flutters in a tone that’s paradoxical to the story she’s trying to tell. This is a song about rage, is it not? This is a song about compulsory heterosexuality, a phenomenon that is incredibly frustrating as it is prevalent in 2024. We don’t hear that rage until the absolutely mind blowing bridge where Roan’s upper register soars when she tells her past lover that she told her so. This story that Roan tells is one that so many queer people often face. It’s that same level of discomfort that Ben Platt and Renee Rapp have both sung about in their respective songs “Andrew” and “Pretty Girls.” This track’s importance can’t be understated. Its rise in popular culture can’t be undervalued. But I do wish that the story was illustrated more blatantly. Slurring aside, where is the music video for this? The video for “Casual” was exactly what a Roan fan would expect: a cross between the films Splash and Jennifer’s Body with a dash of heartbreak. I’m reminded of the queer women artists like Hayley Kiyoko and Zolita who have both gained a following for the honest queer stories they’ve portrayed in their music videos, which have garnered meaningful amounts of views. Meanwhile, DJ Louie XIVI recently had a Pop Pantheon episode that pondered if the music video is indeed dead. I would hate for that to be the case for Roan, an artist that thrives on theatrics, visuals and play— the fuel that her exponential and unexpected rise to stardom requires. [7]

Isabel Cole: I feel like it was probably deliberate to set the big bursting kiss-off chorus up in the flutiest part of her range where she can't really enunciate, but I still find it annoying to listen to. The bridge is pretty good, though. [5]

Mark Sinker: Gorgeous control of voice over bare control of desire; fragments of the crunchily expressed across the oldest (cliched, she says it herself) story, oh i'm the “other girl”!!¡¡ and then the closing device (which you can call brechtian if you’re fancy, or lazy) undermines it a little, at least musicially. [6]

Joshua Lu: The bitter, lesbian reimagining of Gwen Stefani's "Cool" I never knew I needed. [8]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: I am all for Chappell Roan's meteoric rise to fame as the next local drag supporting queer, but this song feels as basic camp as the fonts used in the visuals for her Coachella performance. [6]

Nortey Dowuona: If anyone is wondering why this is the Chappell Roan hit, it's because it sounds like a synthpop song from 1986, and pop fans are still somehow locked into 1983-1988 as the best time to listen to pop music. That said, "you're standing face to face with 'I TOLD YOU SO'" is a FANTASTIC LYRIC. [9]

Katherine St. Asaph: The belted "I TOLD YOU SO" is unexpected and amazing. The part that flips the hook from "I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)" into a soprano trill is great -- between "Super Graphic Ultra Modern Girl" ("Footloose") and "Red Wine Supernova" ("What's Up") she's now three for three on rewriting the Great Karaoke Songbook for 2024. The line "you have to stop the world just to stop the feeling" is so perfect it feels like it must have been written in stone centuries ago and just now unearthed. But if I'm being completely honest with myself, everything else in the track is pretty mid, and repeated listens just make the mid parts seem proportionally larger. [5]

Andrew Karpan: An exuberant jubilant kiss-off for fans of Roan’s last version of this (“My Kink Is Karma”) but more pointed, less funny and charged with a contemplative melancholy bellied under its titanic build. The radical space of queer longing turns into an ocean that lifts all boats. “With your head in your hands, you're nothing more than his wife.” We are lifted and listening. [8]

Rachel Saywitz: I worry sometimes that I’m not wanting enough. Or I want, but the wrong things. Or I don’t want the right things enough. Chappell Roan is want, maximized and poptimized, and “Good Luck, Babe” is its earnestly sweet manifestation. Roan masters pop’s narrative drama as she coaxes her past, closeted self to breathy, sapphic jubilation with the wave of a bouncing synth wand and a Florence Welch operatic belt. Love is want, at its core, and I feel it cascading through me with each listen, urging my spirit to coalesce with my mind, for once. I want, I want, I want. [9]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

#chappell roan #music #pop #pop music #music writing #music reviews #music criticism #the singles jukebox #Youtube

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archduke-enver-gortash · 3 months

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gortash 1, 6, 7

zeke 3, 4, 5

(hi! i realised i had this finished but it was rotting in my drafts so i’m gonna queue this for my short absence lol.) i mean. gortash isn’t an oc but sure why not lol. you can always send me asks about him actually <3

1. What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do?

just sitting still? not a problem. his problem comes with finding something like this to be an utterly wasteful way to spend your time. i think even when he gets done with work for the day earlier than planned (which doesn’t happen often because his plans are so meticulous. usually some incident like someone he was meeting with unexpectedly not being able to attend was the cause here which he. doesn’t like because interruptions in schedule bad lol) he usually finds some other way to be productive. (like spending time in his workshop or drawing for example.)

but uh. how long would he be able to sit still? if a plan of his for some reason required him to sit still and do nothing for a fucking week, he’d gnash his teeth about it but he’d be able to do that and much more—everything that’s necessary will be done. otherwise? you absolutely will not catch him just lounging around lmao.

6. Do they consider laws flexible, or immovable?

definitely immovable 100%. there’s just a teeny tiny problem with this—this applies to his system only, his way of viewing the world, his values and laws for himself and the laws and values he inherently imposes on others. he considers himself a man who does whatever is necessary, and more importantly the only one who is capable of actually deciding on and carrying out order. judge, jury and executioner, y’know. his word is law and his word is what he will stick to until the very end and everyone else better follow suit if they don’t want to be mentally branded as a mistake by him lol. i think he sees it as there being a universal way the world should work, which is the system of the machine with him as the core, it’s just everyone else that doesn’t see this ‘truth’ at the moment & needs fixing.

7. What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?

to me, gortash is a man of the future. yes, he does so enjoy taking his trophies from past conquests and yes, he does not forget the past, dissecting and learning is a process that includes his past as well as others’ he so loves to dissect and use in his schemes, but i simply don’t see him as someone who would ever wallow in feelings like nostalgia. it’s not even that he doesn’t want to, he just doesn’t experience it in the first place.

to sort of illustrate what i mean: i think he definitely remembers his coronation to become archduke as a grand stepping stone in his plan and all, but that’s what being a man of the future and baldur’s gate’s saviour means, it’s exactly that—a stepping stone for more. he won’t simply rest on the steps now when he has so many more to climb. and when you’re at the top of the stairs, there is no need to look back either.

3. How do they put themselves to bed at night (reading, singing, thinking?)

not at all uhhhhhh. only joking. well. only half-joking? zeke, due to his paranoia about everything surrounding gortash, the nightmares that result from that & just his nature as someone who never fucking stops being on his feet, has insane troubles sleeping. with his severe malnutrition and lack of sleep just result in the biggest eye bags known to man. more like eye trenches or whatever.

anyways, the solution is just uhm. going so hard until he eventually passes out and then repeat that process. 😬. later on when he does finally trust his companions enough to eat a bit around them, shadowheart laces his food with a sleeping potion because she hasn’t seen him rest for more than half an hour consecutively and he understandably gets triggered (gortash never put mind-altering drugs into zeke’s food, stuff made him sick for example was what was commonly used instead, because he needs him to be aware of his own suffering to enjoy it, but. still.) because of it. so. not ideal.

4. How easy is it to earn their trust? & 5. How easy is it to earn their mistrust?

i’m just gonna combine these into one bigger answer hope that’s okay 👍 so, every single thing starts out with lots of mistrust from zeke lmao. and yes, i don’t just mean every person, i mean everything, even objects he has never seen before or shit like that. but there’s still multiple levels of mistrust, there’s again the basic mistrust everyone gets, and then there’s mistrust as in ‘you’ve given me a sign (and this truly might be fucking nothing. it most often is nothing. this boy is insane) that you’re working for gortash and i am now immediately killing you’ 😬 and then there’s of course the ‘AAAAHHHHHH WHAT ARE YOU’ level exclusively reserved for mr gortash himself.

to gain his trust, you have to approach it a little bit like you would with a feral kitten except a lot more careful because this thing can actually kill you before you even know that he went for the killing blow if you do something wrong. you have to essentially let him sniff you out, sometimes metaphorically and sometimes literally, assure him that you’re not a threat to him. no sudden movements, loud noises or other similar actions and you’ll be good. he’ll still be on high alert, but is out of ‘kill once it gets within 10 metres’ mode lmao. and that’s basically it. building trust with him is an extremely slow, hard & painful (most often for the party that isn’t zeke) process and honestly? it’s not worth it considering YOU can never fully trust him not to suddenly feel his entire being scream to hunt & kill you. i’ve made this comparison before but it’s essentially like one of those people on taking an animal like a lynx or a chimpanzee into their home. they’ll probably get used to you and maybe even trust you, but they’re still wild animals at the end of the day. wild animals who can and will, if you’re not careful, severely hurt or even kill you if. zeke is the wild and the wild is zeke and all haha.

the methods to earn his trust and mistrust are both not very complex, but while earning his trust is a slow, never sure and stable thing, earning his mistrust is quick and very, very easy in comparison. once again, just one sign that you’re a threat, one wrong movement at the wrong time and you’re out. and this behaviour is just his base instincts as the apex predator and all. like how i described earlier, zeke also has SO many gortash related triggers on top of all that already. for example, telling him that his eyes are beautiful! they just are objectively extraordinary, so you most likely just want to genuinely compliment him! it’s rough. zeke is awful. end essay.

#bg3 #enver gortash #oc: zeke #gortash #baldur's gate 3 #gortash & zeke #the dark urge

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i-will-physically-fight-you · 1 year

Text

Discord, I’m Howling at the Moon

Title: Discord, I’m Howling at the Moon

Summary:

Roman was an accomplished Hollywood actor. Millions adored him for his charm and winning smile.

On the flipside, Remus was a certified medical examiner. Millions hadn’t a clue of who he was and those few people that did tolerated him. He dissected dead bodies for a living. Hell, he’d do it for pure amusement if someone offered. Becoming a medical examiner had been just the safe, legal route.

So it might shock people on who was the normal human being and who was the one that could transform into a quote-unquote "horrifying bloodthirsty monster."

Pairings: Brotherly Creativitwins

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Logan is in this fic for like five seconds (not enough to tag him imo), Werewolves, Nonspecific discussion of dissecting dead people (Remus is a medical examiner it’s kinda his job), illness mention, death mention, mutilation mention, vague nsfw jokes, arguing, crying, body horror, hurt/comfort

AO3 Link

Would y'all believe me if I told you this has been in my drafts for nearly three years, needing nothing but a few fixes here and there? Anyways, this idea had seized me one day late at night during 2020 lockdown and I wrote the barebones all in one night as you do. Many thanks to @stillebesat who beta'd it back in the day and gave helpful suggestions. I did use their advice to tighten up this fic...even it took this long for it to come into fruition.

People were generally ecstatic to learn that Remus Merkle was a doctor. Until they discovered his patients were mostly dead. And by mostly dead, they were completely dead. It was just, occasionally, decaying corpses had muscle spasms that caused them to move on their own. Thus “mostly” dead. However, nobody really appreciated jokes about decomposing corpses unexpectedly moving. Whatever, when the zombie apocalypse arrived, he’d be the only one prepared for it.

They also didn’t seem to appreciate hearing about the various ways one can end up dead. As a mortician, he’s seen all sorts of cause for death. Most were mundane things—old age, heart failure, cancer.

Some, however, never failed to crack him up on the depravity of man. They were all going to hell, every last one of them. Anyone who thought otherwise was just fooling themselves.

That was why Remus didn’t care about keeping up appearances. He spoke loudly and proudly about anything, everything on his mind. He proclaimed liking chocolate ice cream in the same breath of proclaiming his enthusiasm for octopus sex. He’d walk around publicly in the nude if it wasn’t illegal. When a grey streak appeared in his hair prematurely—he didn’t hide it away. He embraced it, showing it off to everyone—and he meant everyone. His co-worker Brian, the barista at the coffee shop, the random businessman on the street—everyone.

People were then generally surprised to find out that he had a rather conspicuous twin brother. Or perhaps surprised to find out that Roman Prince was a stage name—as artificial as the grandiose, bravado image his brother portrayed himself to be. Because despite their passing resemblance (they were fraternal) they were polar opposites.

Even growing up this was evident. Roman liked drawing unicorns and fairy-tale princes. In turn, Remus liked drawing five-legged, eight-eyed monsters that ate up Roman’s princes and unicorns. Roman liked the good guys. Remus liked the bad guys. This worked out rather well when they’d play princes and dragons. Except, of course, when they’d argue who should win.

Most of the time? It ended up in a wrestling match full of foul play. Such as pinching, biting and tickling. If their poor mother was fortunate, she might discover them in a heap sound asleep. The unfortunate times were when this rough-housing went too far and one of them ended up crying at the end.

Unlike Remus, Roman cared about what others thought of him. He loved putting on a performance—doing whatever he believed would please others. In school, he was always the favorite among teachers and students alike because of this. Many times Remus tried convincing him to let loose and have fun. All that did was result in arguments with words far more painful than childish rough-housing ever was.

It wasn’t like Roman and Remus didn’t care for each other–because they did! It was just natural that when you spent almost every moment of your life alongside each other up until high school graduation, you were going to argue a lot about stuff that was very important but also very stupid. Nowadays they both learned to agree to disagree about certain things.

Given his acting tendencies, it wasn’t too astounding to Remus that his brother went on to become an accomplished Hollywood actor. Millions adored him for his charm and winning smile, among…other things. Sure, Remus was Remus. But even he had a limit.

Reading stranger’s thirst tweets about your twin brother? It would never cease to be a bizarre, disconcerting experience. This didn’t mean he wasn’t above using it as fodder to tease Roman. For all his talk, his brother was easily flustered by such things.

On the flipside, Remus was a certified medical examiner. Millions hadn’t a clue of who he was and those few people that did tolerate him. He dissected dead bodies for a living. Hell, he’d do it for pure amusement if someone offered. Becoming a medical examiner had been just the safe, legal route.

So it might shock people on who was the normal human being and who was the one that could transform into a quote-unquote "horrifying bloodthirsty monster." This wasn’t always the case, mind you.

It all began when Remus received a phone call one Tuesday evening at around 5:37pm. It was a cold, overcast, rainy day. The type of weather that warranted murders and other violent criminal acts if this was a fictional story. Most actual crimes statistically occurred during warm sunny days.

Remus had just taken his dinner of chicken gizzards out at the same moment that Aqua’s Barbie Girl erupted on his phone at an obnoxious loud volume. Remus groaned, setting the dish aside as he dug out the phone from his pocket.

“What’s up bro? Did you end up finding the surprise I left hidden in your TARDIS of a closet?”

“Ah, I apologize but this is not your brother speaking.”

Remus’ knuckles went white, “Oh really? Then where is my brother?”

“I’m afraid he’s…occupied at the moment. Listen your brother has—”

“Did you kidnap him? Because I can and will find you—and chop you into tiny bits of pieces! I’m real good at that—well with dead bodies but I’m sure the same principle works on live ones.”

“I have not kidnapped your brother, I promise.” The stranger said, voice level and calm. Remus pouted because it wasn’t fun when people didn’t freak out.

“What are you doing with his phone then?”

“My name is Logan Barry, I am your brother’s assistant. I know this is an invasion of his privacy and could very well end in my severance from his employment but I felt it imperative to make this phone call for your brother’s sake. He has been experiencing mood swings—”

“Have you worked with my brother for a long time?” Remus interrupted, barking a laugh, “Roro’s always been one for dramatics!”

“I’m well aware of his flair for the dramatics, having worked under him for two years,” Logan bit back testily, “I assure you this is different. The thing most concerning to me is that a few days ago he dropped out of all his acting engagements and has taken to isolating himself in his home. It is clear something is causing him anguish but he won’t say what it is.”

“And so you thought to steal your boss’s phone and call up one of his family members to check up on him?” Remus hummed, “because damn, yeah, it sounds like a pod person replaced him. But you picked the worst person to call—sure, we’re cool, but we aren’t the sort to do mushy emotional talks.”

“Are you certain? From what he has told me, you two are close. You are also the closest relative in terms of geographical distance.”

Well, shit. The dude had him on that. Both their parents were currently on an anniversary vacation in Florida.

Remus sighed as he grabbed his dinner and shoved it into the refrigerator. Right smushed between a few of his science experiments; a dead rat and dove respectively each wrapped in tinfoil.

“And he doesn’t have any friends you thought of calling first?” Remus asked, snatching up his car keys.

“Roman has plenty of friends—“

“—but lemme guess? They’re a bunch of artificial Hollywood phonies?” Remus asked. He took the resulting silence as confirmation. “Don’t worry, Nerdy Wolverine, I’ll go over and knock some sense into my idiot brother.”

“Thank you, it is much appreciated.”

“Don’t thank me just yet—by the way, how did you get my bro’s phone? Did you steal it?” Remus asked, already in his car and starting the ignition.

“I did not steal it—the phone needed a new screen and he entrusted me with making sure it was replaced. I am simply returning it to him in the morning, rather than this evening.”

“Hm, whatever helps make you sleep at night!” Remus chirped, “I’m gonna hang up now so I can listen to some tunes while on my way to save Roman from himself!”

He then did just that, before Logan could have a chance to utter some formal goodbye. The drive to Roman’s house was long—three hours. It was a little less than that due to Remus’ excessive amounts of speeding. Death metal blared out of the car stereos. Usually he liked to screech along to it but he remained silent the whole ride.

Being a Hollywood actor was Roman’s dream job—just as much as Remus’ job as a medical examiner was for him. He worked just as hard as Remus to achieve that. It’d be one thing if his brother grew stressed from the pressure of the job or wanted to pursue other creative avenues. But for him to up and quit acting? With no warning or explanation? That didn’t make sense. Nobody just did that—well okay Remus would. That was on-brand for him. Not for Roman.

Although, it’d be great after all these years his brother finally learned to cut back and let loose. Who knew, maybe his assistant was just being stuffy about the situation.

It was completely dark by the time Remus reached the gates of his brother’s ridiculously large home. Normally Remus liked ditching his car and scaling up the gate to freak his brother out. Today he used the gate code for the first time ever. He still lockpicked his brother’s front door—what? He had to maintain some sense of normalcy. Or as normal as Remus got anyways.

“Roey, I’m homeeee!” Remus called out, grinning maniacally as he pushed the door open. He took one step inside and his foot met with the crunch of glass.

Roman liked to call himself a man of passion and ideals. He loudly abhorred logic and structure, claiming he followed the whimsy of his heart best. Despite that, he did appreciate some order and rationality. Unlike Remus’ unbridled chaos, Roman’s chaos was organized to a degree. Roman sometimes had piles of stuff lying in a room. Piles that seemed random and unorganized but they really did have a purpose.

Remus shone his phone’s flashlight to a mess that rivaled Remus’ own anarchy. Chairs overturned, broken shards of glass, a torn-up shirt—the list went on.

“Whoa,” Remus breathed in, closing the door behind him. For a second Remus forgot the whole reason he came here. Instead he became invigorated with memories of when he trespassed abandoned buildings as a teen. Some had broken-down belongings still left inside—you could tell a lot about a person from what they left behind. Remus knew that fact intimately.

Had there been some sort of a struggle? Was Roman involved with the mafia? Was Roman dead?

Remus froze, crouched down as his fingers touched a shard of glass on the ground.

“Roman?” He called out, “Where are you? I can’t believe you had a wild party and you didn’t have the gall to invite me!”

He waited, tapping his finger against the glass. Tap, tap, tap. He almost didn’t think he’d get a response until he heard a distant clang. And then, “Remus?!”

His brother. That was Roman’s voice. Weak and faint, although that could be because he was halfway across the house or something.

“Yup it’s me!” Remus grinned, jumping up to his feet, “Bro, where you at?”

“Remus what are you doing here?” Roman asked, a muffled noise following his words.

Remus huffed, slightly peeved. Here was his brother, a pinnacle of manners and yet he ignored Remus’ question entirely. Regardless, he walked in the direction he thought Roman’s voice was coming from.

“What, I can’t drop in, just ‘cause anymore?” Remus asked, “besides, it doesn’t seem like you’re up to anything right now. Besides nursing a wicked hangover, I bet. Did you manage to get laid?”

“Remus, you can’t be here!” Roman’s voice said, sounding increasingly closer. Remus’ grin widened. Bingo.

“What do you mean I can’t be here? I got through the door just fine—also for someone that’s loaded, you should really invest in a better lock.”

“No, please, Remus I mean it!” Roman snapped, the clanging noise echoing once more. This time it sounded like something metal. “You can’t be here, please!”

Remus creeped closer, frowning when he came to the end of the hallway. Hmm, right or left?

“Why not?” C’mon bro, please speak up and tell me .

“I—I can’t! You just have to believe me!” There was a tremble in Roman’s voice. Remus had heard his brother act, time and time again. He knew all his tells. This wasn’t him acting. Roman was genuinely afraid.

He was also definitely in the room to Remus’ left. Now he just had to open the door—locked. Remus bit his lips. Alright, no biggie. He could lockpick it.

“Remus? Is that you? Stay away!”

“Roman, you know me—if you have a dead body in there, I’ll bury it for you. No questions asked. I might just want a peek at the insides though!”

“Remus, please—” Roman let out a pained scream.

Remus’ fingers quivered. No! He steadied them, working as fast as humanly possible. It struck him then that this was just like a scene ripped from a horror movie. A man goes to visit his apparently gone mad brother and finds a mystery afoot. As much as Remus liked horror movies, he was finding that he didn’t like being in one.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the door unlocked. Remus slammed it open, one hand itching close to his pocket knife. The room was dim, containing a single window with blinds drawn over it. It looked like an ordinary guest bedroom until something shifted in the corner.

“Roman?” Remus came near, startled at the sight of his twin shirtless and chained up to the bedposts. What the fuck. “I should’ve thought you were one for such a vanilla kink. Where’s your partner? Are they hot?”

“It isn’t like that!” Roman insisted, baring his teeth, “Listen, I can’t hold it back any longer, you need to g o .”

Remus opened his mouth to respond when Roman dropped to the ground, screaming as he convulsed. Oh my god, he was having a seizure. Remus should call 911. His phone fell out of his pocket in his fumble to pull it out. He reached down to pick it up, only to drop it entirely once more.

This time was due to the fact that Roman…was rapidly growing hair? Like an infection, coarse grey hair started covering every inch of his brother. Which was really fucking weird because Remus did not know of any disease that caused instantaneous hair growth in such a way. But it didn’t just stop there.

As it continued, there was a series of horrible crackling noises. It sounded akin to someone popping a dislocated shoulder back into place except it sounded wrong, wrong, wrong. Something screamed within Remus that he should not be here, that he was in danger, that he should escape while he had the chance.

But he didn’t move a muscle, standing stupefied at the sight of his brother…transforming? Yeah, that seemed like the right word. Because the crackling was the result of Roman’s bones rearranging themselves to create an entirely different skeletal frame. His brother’s face twisted and contorted until it no longer resembled anything human. Dull human teeth gave way into sharp carnivore teeth.

At this point, Roman no longer had any hands–they’ve fused together into something else entirely. The same was beginning to occur with his feet.

The pants his brother had been wearing had long since been torn to shreds, but they became even more so as something burst forth from his body like that parasite from Alien except it was near his butthole and oh–was that a tail?

A werewolf. His brother was turning into a fucking werewolf.

Remus almost laughed. Was this a dream? Was his apartment infested with toxic mold and this was the result of a hallucination? Because the idea of werewolves was fucking sick (he’d been convinced he was one in middle school) but as far he knew, they weren’t supposed to be real and his brother sure as hell wasn’t supposed to be one.

Yet, it was becoming very damn apparent that his brother was turning into one. As the transformation leveled out, Roman’s screams ceased as a deep, guttural howl replaced it. The grey hair became more shaggy and looked soft to the touch like fur. His brother had paws! And fluffy wolf ears! If Remus hadn’t witnessed the whole thing, he would’ve assumed that Roman had a real ass wild wolf chained up to a bedpost!

Remus couldn’t help himself. He reached a hand out towards Roman, only to be met with a snarling and gnashing of teeth.

“No touching, got it.” Remus whispered, staring as his brother thrashed against the chains. The wolf tried chomping down on the chain, only to let out a yelp. Ears pinned back, he tried a few more times to success. Eventually he threw his head back and howled.

This was where most people would’ve been terrified enough to run away if they hadn’t at the start. After all, his brother had turned into a wolf and now was trying to escape his chains. Surely if he managed to break free, his animalistic instincts would cause him to maul Remus to death.

Oddly enough, Remus was feeling very calm. Perhaps a bit too calm, but as he stared at the wolf that was now his brother, things made sense. The trashed house, the erratic behavior, the fear in his brother’s voice moments before–werewolves were real and somehow his brother got bit by one.

“I bet it’s silver, isn’t it?” He mused underneath his breath. Silver hurt werewolves, right? Assuming that was true, it was no wonder that Roman’s wolfy form was so agitated by it.

So Remus decided to do something that was probably ill-advised. In fact if this was a b-rated horror movie, the audience would be yelling at him right now for being stupid. He reached for his lockpick toolkit and slowly inched forward. Roman growled at him.

“Listen, I’m gonna just,” He held up his lockpick toolkit out to show Roman, “help you out bud. See this? If you promise not to eat me, I’ll let you out.”

Remus didn’t know how much awareness Roman had in wolf form. He was gonna go with not a whole lot. Still didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try and communicate.

Roman sniffed at it curiously. He then stared at Remus, tilting his head. After a moment, Remus decided to take that as a permission to continue onwards. He touched the end of the chain to which his brother growled. Rude!

“Ok, look, I’ll respect not touching you, but I have to touch the chains to let you out.” Remus raised an eyebrow. He waited a few seconds before touching the chain again. Roman didn’t growl. He kept staring at Remus, watching his every movement.

“Good boy, good boy,” Remus said, fiddling with the lockpick, “okay, is that patronizing? Am I being demeaning? Please tell me if I’m being demeaning—”

Remus kept rattling on, working on the clasp until it finally released. An angry red band circled Roman’s leg where the chain had been. Roman lifted the paw up and down, tail wagging. He lunged forward, best as he could with three limbs still chained down, and licked Remus’ face. It was rough and coarse as sandpaper.

“Whoa, I haven’t even finished the other three just yet!” Remus protested, laughing. He pushed the wolf’s head away as he started work on the second chain. Roman whined but complied upon seeing what he was doing. The next three came off in quick succession once Remus figured out the locking mechanisms. When the last one came off, Roman bounded about the room excitedly. At one point he started chasing his tail to entertain himself.

Remus watched, deep in thought. His brother seemed so happy to be able to roam and chase his tail to his heart’s content. He’d only growled at Remus because he felt threatened and afraid of his presence. Once he understood his intentions, he immediately lavished affection upon him.

Just how long had his brother been a werewolf? This couldn’t have been going for more than a few months at least. In any case, Roman was so terrified of himself to the point of self-isolation. Which surely made the situation worse, because his wolfy side probably needed proper care and attention that Roman was neglecting.

Something tugged at his jacket sleeve. Remus looked down to see his brother looking at him, whining.

“What? You want some food?” Remus asked, “Damn, if I’d known I would’ve brought the roadkill I have in my freezer to you—”

Roman headbutted him with enough force to send him sprawling. This seemed to satisfy the wolf, because he then proceeded to lay on top of him.

“Hey no fair!” Remus said, trying to wiggle out to no avail. Roman licked his face in response before laying his head down. Remus tried a few more times before giving up. He sighed, finally resigning himself to his fate as a wolf cushion.

“Man, this is gonna be weird in the morning, isn’t it?” Remus asked, yawning.

It was.

He woke up to a scream. By the time he managed to open his eyes, he was greeted to the sight of a human Roman huddled inside a blanket.

“Morning, Ro. What’s for breakfast?” Remus asked casually, sitting up to stretch. If there was one downside to adulthood, it was that sleeping on the ground now resulted in stiff backs.

Roman looked at him like he was a ghost.

“H—how are you not dead?” Roman asked, “The chains—I—it escaped—did you get bitten?!”

He reached forward, searching for a bite mark of any kind. There weren't any. Remus grasped onto his brother’s hand, squeezing it firmly. Okay mushy emotional talk time. Remus wasn’t great at this, but Roman knew this. Hopefully he didn’t fuck it up too much.

“I’m fine, Roman,” He said, “I didn’t get a single scratch, I’m mostly hurt that you didn’t tell me you could turn into a hugeass wolf. Do you have any wolfy traits outside of Full Moon? Ooh, can you eat raw meat? What about your sense of smell?”

“Remus,” Roman began, his eyes wide, “why aren’t you scared of me?”

Remus cocked his head, “Why would you think that I’d ever be afraid of you? If anything I’m jealous of you! I can’t believe you’re better at turning into a wolf than I am. You know I spent half of middle school thinking I was a wolf.”

Roman stared at him, lips wobbling. He then shook his head and laughed. All choked up and wheezy like a broken squeaky toy as he slung both arms around Remus’ wiry frame in a tight embrace. He kept on laughing—his fingers digging into the fabrics of Remus’ shirt and jacket. Remus held onto him, massaging his scalp the way their mother did to comfort them growing up. Eventually Roman’s laughter died down to quiet, stifled sobs.

“I know you care a lot about appearances but you’re not a monster you know,” Remus whispered, “Dukey’s honor that you’re still your princely, heroic self, wolf or not. Besides you and I both know the monster in the room and that’s me.”

“You put pineapples on your pizza.” Roman hiccupped.

“It’s delicious! And there’s much worse cursed things to put on pizzas. Like gold and squid ink!”

“You wear crocs unironically.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You practiced bagpipes in front of my room at 2AM in high school.”

“Yup! See? I’m a certified genuine monster.” Remus beamed.

“No you’re not,” Roman made a strangled noise, “You’re my brother who’s weird and kooky at times but I--I…”

“Aw Roey. Don’t make this a mushy Hallmark movie,” Remus said, “but if it was, you’re still my brother regardless of how many times you get on my nerves.”

He almost addressed the chains–now that Remus knew, they were going to eventually need to have serious talk time about ways to properly care for one’s wolfy self. In a very un-Remus-like move, he bit his tongue on that one though. That was an argument for another time. One that was inevitable to happen if Roman kept transforming into a wolf every full moon.

For now? He was content to start teasing Roman with the latest thirst tweet he stumbled across.

#thomas sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #creativitwins #sanders sides #sasi #tssides #kat writes

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