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zephyrchama · 5 months

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Writing prompt: If MC had been a sheep since they came to the Devildom and then suddenly became human again, would the brothers recognize them? (Under the cut, all 7 brothers, SFW, written in second person.)

Others might have written about this before, it's a fun concept. In the beginning of the manga it's explained that MC appears to be a sheep for reasons. I like to think that they gradually change back and their sheep characteristics slowly become more human, while maintaining sheep-like qualities for a while, but it's more fun to write about if they just. suddenly. change back all at once, ta-da.

Humans sometimes face adverse effects when traversing realms. The unnatural spatial movement has equally unnatural consequences for human bodies, which is why you found yourself in the body of a small pink sheep when meeting the brothers for the first time.

Solomon and Diavolo say it will wear off in time, as you adjust to the Devildom. Your body will return to normal eventually, but they don’t know exactly how long. Its been quite some time now and everyone just accepts that this is how things are. You are a small pink sheep, and you are family.

You expected a gradual transformation - to slowly regain human features over time as you got used to life in the Devildom. That didn’t happen. Day by day nothing changed, until the transformation happened all at once.

Lucifer

Lucifer had seen your photo on the exchange student paperwork months ago. A generic little square image stapled to the application, hardly better than a driver’s license photo. He might have taken your paperwork out of the student council room and put it in his private office desk for safekeeping, or to look from time to time to remind himself you really were human.

He was the first one you thought to tell. A big change like this was surely worth a visit to his room, even if he was busy. You knocked your usual knock. Now that you were human-sized, you could reach the middle of the door, but the lack of hooves meant your knock was quieter. There were several seconds of silence. Maybe he didn’t hear you. You went to knock again, but a familiar gruff voice called out “come in,” from the other side so you reached for the handle.

There were piles of record book and stacks of forms upon the desk, but the eldest brother was still visible from the doorway. As if sensing something was different, he paused mid-writing and looked up. Lucifer was taken aback for a moment but quickly regained his usual composed poker face. You tried to hide a smile. Seeing him surprised like that was a rare occasion.

“I see you’ve finally gotten used to it here. Congratulations.” Maybe it was the soft light inside the House of Lamentation, but Lucifer thought you looked far better in person than in that photo. He put down his pen and crossed his hands under his chin. It almost masked the way he leaned slightly forward to get a better look at you over the large desk. “Do you feel alright?”

You nodded, it was strange to adjust to your old height again but you were glad to be back in your body. “You’re sure you feel fine? Come here,” he commanded.

Sitting next to him as a sheep while he worked had become so natural, yet doing so now as a human made you feel so self conscious. Your eyes wandered around the room, avoiding his gaze until he grabbed your shoulder and said “look at me.”

To you, he was just being overprotective. A routine check up on the exchange student to make sure they’re healthy after a sudden transformation. Maybe being close enough to feel his breath each time he exhaled was also necessary. To Lucifer, it was the time he’d been waiting months for. To see your glossy hair, not just a ball of wool, and study the contours of your face. How smooth your cheeks were and the way you politely kept up an embarrassed smile. Yes, the real deal was much nicer than a photograph.

Mammon

Mammon had no idea who you were, at first. You were sitting on the couch, wasting time while waiting for the next family meal. The front door slammed open loudly and closed with a bang. Mammon finally strolled into the living room after a long evening of make-up lessons at school.

“When’s dinner ready? I’m starvin’!” His boisterous voice made the house a little livelier. “And hey, where’s--”

He stammered when his eyes met yours and his voice faltered back down to a normal indoor volume. “Didn’ know we had someone vistin’. Hmph.”

Your jaw dropped. Was he really this dense? He couldn’t recognize you despite all the time you spend together? You turned around to watch over the back of the couch as Mammon walked to the dining room, then left to go down the hallway that led to your room. Several moments later he was in the kitchen. You could hear voices, but not what was said.

After some time he came meandering back to the living room. With one hand on his hip, he remained standing and leaned against the other couch. He was agitated and impatient, and with no one else around he turned to you.

It must have been five seconds, max, but it felt like you stared at each other for an hour. You pouted, glaring at the idiot who thought you seemed like an oddly familiar and comforting presence. “Who’re ya here to see? If it’s The Great Mammon, I’m a busy guy. I can’t just stand around. WIthout compensation, I’m leavin’.”

“Mammon,” you said. Just one word. You sounded hurt. It made his heart skip a beat, he’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“Huh? What’d you say?” He heard you loud and clear. He just wanted you to speak again, to hear your voice once more and confirm he wasn’t imagining things.

Of all the ways you imagined showing off your human body to him, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Maybe you were wrong for expecting him to recognize you no matter what, but just like him you would never admit that.

“Oh my gosh, you’re a fool! Here’s your ‘compensation!’” Swiftly, you launched a decorative cushion square at his stomach. Your strike is nothing to him, but you landed an emotional blow when you went to storm off.

He grabbed your wrist before you got out of arm’s reach. Forcefully at first, but quickly realized he had to loosen up to avoid hurting you. “Wh- huh? Is that you? Why didn’t you say anything!? When did this happen?”

Walking away was futile as Mammon was rooted to the spot. “That’s really you, right? This ain’t a joke?”

He pulled you in towards him and spun you around to look at your face. You were mad and upset and relieved that he stopped you and embarrassed at having so many emotions at once. He finally knew, you're his human, alright.

Leviathan

It took a while for things to click for Leviathan.

He first saw you from afar on campus. He wanted to steer clear from you., like with every other student. Though he did do a double-take and stare.

He’d never seen you (well, proper human you) around before, and you looked just like the customizable characters you always created in his games. Same hair style, same eyes, same sense of style. His P2 was real. It was uncanny and he couldn’t wait to tell you all about seeing your player character wandering around campus.

That’s when he realized he hadn’t seen you all day. The sheep you. You were always easy to find due to being bogarted by his flashy brothers. You were one of the few to casually greet him every day as assurance he was welcome at RAD. You were human, and humans weren’t sheep. Didn’t Lucifer say something about that when you first arrived? Oh.

When Leviathan didn’t show up to classes after lunch you went looking for him. It was a tough quest. He wasn’t in any of the usual hiding places and wasn’t answering his DDD. He really didn’t want to see you. Or, well, he really did, but clearly wasn’t prepared to. You finally found him on a bench, shrouded by overgrown tree branches and isolated far on the outskirts of RAD’s campus.

Low muttering gave away his hiding space, unintelligible as he was biting down hard on his thumbnail while he raved. His hair was a tousled mess and from time to time he’d jump up to flail or shake his head.

“Lev-”

You tried to greet him and got met with a glorious, high-pitched shriek. You pushed on anyway.

“Levi! I’ve been looking for you. Notice anything different today?”

“You! Y-y-y-youuu!!” He could not look you in the eye, or look at you at all, but your familiar voice made everything clear. It took some time for him to speak again.  ”You sat in my bed! You sat in my lap!” He referenced all the times you’d stay up late gaming with him. He never objected to that before. “You! You did all that! How could you?”

 ”I… thought we were friends?” ”Well I didn’t know you looked like that!”

All the wholesome memories Levi had of you two bonding, demon and sheep, suddenly changed. No longer were you a cute fuzzball sitting on his legs or snug against him like a plush while he slept. You were a cute human, with human features, sitting between his legs and being held against him in bed. Overnight you went from essentially a security plush to a real person, and he was having trouble adjusting.

“You lied to me! Aagh!” He kicked his legs and pulled at his hair in anxious frustration, his thoughts branching in dozens of conflicting paths at once, so you did the only thing you knew to calm him. A big hug.

He froze right up. You stubbornly told him “I’m still me, you know.”

“But you look…” For the first time he tried looking right at you, but all you noticed was the intense blush across his face. It made you smile.

Satan

Great Detective Satan picked up on your change quickly. It wasn’t hard to deduce for anyone who paid close attention to mysteries, like he did.

You hadn’t asked for any help that morning reaching for things high up. You didn’t ask anyone to carry your heavy school books. Most obviously, you were sitting in the dining room enjoying a hearty piece of toast when he also sat down to eat breakfast. Even though he didn’t physically recognize you, who else would be fearlessly sitting at the House of Lamentation’s breakfast table and happily greeting the Avatar of Wrath?

Rather than the scrambled eggs, Satan was most interested in you. He didn’t hide the way he stared. “You look different.” Slowly, eyes never wavering, he took the chair beside you.  ”Oh yeah! Check it out, I changed back!” You went to stand up and show off, but first needed to wipe the crumbs off your face. Too bad the napkin just slid off your lap and onto the floor. “Ah, hold on, I’ll show you in a sec. It’ll be worth it.” You didn’t want to look sloppy on your first day as a human again, and although hands were easier to eat with than hooves, you had prioritized munching on delicious breakfast food over eating cleanly. Without another clean napkin in arm’s reach, you went to pick up what had fallen.

“Allow me.” Napkin unfolded, Satan leaned in close. Before you could acknowledge his offer he had a hand wrapped around your chin. The heat of his fingers could be felt on your lips through the cloth. He spent an unnecessarily long time tracing the contours around your mouth. A cleaning this thorough would surely ward crumbs off your face for at least a week.

A full minute later, Satan was satisfied and leaned back in his own chair. He didn’t stop staring though. You gave a heartfelt, “thanks! Now let me show you,” and stood up to twirl.

Asmodeus

Asmodeus recognized you right away. He was the only one not taken aback, and was thrilled to see you returned to full glory. “You look just like your socials!”

Not one to miss out on trends, Asmodeus had signed up for a few human realm social media sites. He considered it to be the cultural exchange aspect of your exchange program. On particularly slow evenings he’d even scroll through several years of your image posts and save the cutest ones. Asmodeus was very well acquainted with both your human and sheep looks.

“Do you have anything to wear other than your uniform? We really should trim your hair, too. That didn’t stop growing while you were a sheep, huh?” He was immediately all over you, twirling your hair in his long fingers while circling like a predator locked on to its prey.

“Oh really?” You hadn’t noticed your hair being overly long. You were just happy to be back to normal. “Yeah I’ve got plenty of clothes, but my hair? Are there, like, demon barbers around here? Can you help?”

“Leave it to me! And your nails!” His hand found yours and soon your fingers were entwined. He lifted them up, cheerily exclaiming “how about matching with me?” as he pulled you towards his room. It was hard to keep up with him, but at least you stood a chance now unlike before in that small body. He noticed, and with a cheeky grin turned to ask “you're not still having trouble? I’ll carry you, you know. And when you need another trim, you come to me first.”

Beelzebub

Beelzebub lucked out. He came into the dining hall for the most important meal of the day, just in time to see you twirl for Satan, proclaiming “I’m back!”

Your voice was the same, and you smelled the same as ever. He let out an astonished “woah” while taking the seat across from you. This new form was much better than the sheep one. His fears of accidentally hurting you with too much strength somewhat abated. Though, in his eyes you were still tiny.

“Morning!” you greeted. “Notice anything new?” ”Boy, do I.” Through a mouthful of food, he asked “how did this happen?” 

“Dunno, it must have happened overnight. I just woke up and bam.” You flashed a pair of finger guns at Beel and he laughed.

After breakfast, you two became alone in the dining room. You piled up the dirty dishes and Beelzebub carried them into the kitchen as you followed behind, saying “we better hurry, I didn’t realize it was this late already.”

“Yeah.” He placed everything in the sink, then turned to face you. He held out his arms. “Ready to go?”

Carrying you to school appears to have become a habit. Beel didn’t even hesitate to gently lift you up like you were weightless. It was an everyday occurrence when you were a sheep. But back in your old body with longer legs, having his arm wrap around your waist without a layer of thick wool to cushion you, things felt different. “Y’know, I might be able to walk to school today.”

“Hm?” Beelzebub took a moment to process this. Like he had completely forgotten you got your body back in that short span of time. “Oh! Sorry. Force of habit.” Almost dejectedly, he crouched to set you back on the ground. You reached around to grab his shoulders anyway.

“Well, I never said you had to let go.”

Belphegor

Belphegor thought he was still sleeping. Your human figure was a familiar sight he had seen multiple times. It was how you manifested in your dreams, after all. Sometimes when you napped together he would pick up glimpses of your dreams. On this day he had made it to RAD with time to spare and was dozing off in his seat when you arrived.

Unreservedly, he dragged himself several feet over to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, head on your shoulder right next to your ear. “Hey.” This was a dream anyway, might as well enjoy it.

“Belphie, are you still asleep?” you asked. Physical contact wasn’t so bad, but it got embarrassing in public like this. With a futile shake you tried to rouse him. “Look! Did you notice? I’m not a sheep anymore!”

“Mm, yeah. You’re you.” Avoiding the lights, he buried his eyes in your neck, wishing it was a little darker. He liked you like this. But if this was a dream, why did the light bother him? Why was he still so tired? “Is it… Hm? What time is it?”

“Time for class to start soon. If you fall asleep again Lucifer is gonna kick your butt. Wake up.” You roughly ruffled his hair, causing him to groan and cling to your waist tighter. It did succeed in getting him to raise his head, at least.

After a sleepy pause, Belphegor seemed to grasp his surroundings. He squinted and leaned back, sizing you up. You couldn't tell if he was waking up or preparing to slouch down again until he spoke. “You really changed back? For real?”

“Yep!”

“Heh, good for you.” He pat your sides and let go. It tickled a little. Now, while you were distracted, was his turn to ruffle your hair. Payback disguised as playful praise.

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quickandsilvers · 6 months

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Sick Day 🔥

Peter Maximoff x fem!reader SMUT

Summary: Reader has come down with an illness, so Peter decides its time to repay the favour and take care of her.

Warnings: Oral sex(fem), fingering, kissing, humping, mention of a sex toy, embarrassment on readers end, Peter being an annoying and yet also very adorable airhead

Word count: 5083

Taglist: @kaismanwich @evpeters87 (Let me know if you want to be added or removed!!)

A/N: im really happy with how this turned out, so im hoping anyone reading will enjoy it too.💕

A good night's sleep was tough enough to get as an Xmen.

Sleeping in went unbeknownst to you, with late nights on missions and grueling 6am training sessions, requiring you to be up and ready to go while everyone else slept lethargically in their rooms without a single care in the world.

This weekend was supposed to be your reprieve, no early mornings, no new work, just a chance to lie in and scoff as many cake snacks as possible until you grew nauseous. Or it should've been. This weekend was anything but.

Since it was a Friday night, and you’d just had a full day of lectures (courteous to Charles, of whom seemed to thrive off of your misery) you promised yourself that Saturday was the day you would crack on and do.. Well.. nothing.

Lying in bed, however, the probability of this happening seemed bleak. Dull, aching pain shot through your stomach intermittently, and the feeling of whole body numbness and nausea couldnt be shaken.

Whimpering and clutching at your stomach, you feebly use your powers to close your bedroom door. You would rather be caught stark naked running through Charles prized white rose bushes than be seen writhing in your bed like you were doing your best attempt of a caterpillar in the process of metamorphosis. You were very aware of Peter’s frequent roaming of the halls, knowing if he caught you in such a state you would never be able to live it down.

You felt weak. Insecure. A class four mutant and yet you succumbed to something as simple as a stomach ache and fever?

It was a fight to repress the pain. A fight you were in fact losing, and you weren’t sleeping because of it.

You weren't exactly sure how your sickness had flared up, but living in a mansion full of prepubescent kids that paid more attention to what was being served for lunch, rather than the basic hygiene and cleanliness standards made you less than surprised.

A glance at your phone. 2:37 AM. A sorry sign given that you’d gone to bed at quarter to twelve. With an exasperated huff you got up, instantly squatting to the ground to lessen the pain that was realized with it. Then, slowly, you maneuvered yourself into your bathroom, supporting your jittery hands on the countertop of your sink before looking into the mirror.

Holy shit, someone alert the authorities. Exorcism needed, stat. Pale faced skin, lidded eyes and disheveled hair greeted you like a slap in the face, only seeming to aid in your shitty mood.

Groaning, you trudged back into the confines of your bed, too lazy to attempt fixing whatever happened to your appearance and disappearing under the covers. You ignored the sweltering heat emitting off of your body, instead picking up your phone once more and dialing a number you knew off by heart.

As an adult, you should’ve been able to handle being sick on your own. But you still wanted to talk to Peter, at least let him know that you weren't feeling great. He owed it to you anyway, you reassured yourself, remembering his leg fracture after the Apocalypse battle, making you his personal assistant for the next two weeks.

A very, very long two weeks. Not that you minded too much, especially when aiding him in getting dressed in the morning, but you soon realized he was essentially just a giant toddler, with no sense of spatial awareness or consideration for your busy schedule.

Peter had somehow influenced you into sharing the same bed for the time his leg was broken, exaggerating the fact he might ‘roll off the bed and be confined to the floor like a turtle stuck on its back.’ His words, not yours.

You weren’t even sure if that was a plausible excuse. Nonetheless, it worked, and you spent the next while being laid upon as though he were a weighted blanket, his stifling speedster body heat having the same effect on you as a sauna.

That you could deal with until you discovered his tendency to constantly be moving around on the bed, even whilst sleeping. One time you woke up with your best friend sprawled out in a way you can only describe as a malfunctioned starfish, limbs stretched out in ways you didn't imagine were possible.

The morning after you made a satirical statement of tying Peter down to the bed to keep him still, only to instantaneously regret it after being met with wiggling eyebrows and a plethora of bondage jokes.

Snapping yourself out of your tranfix, you dial the number, not having to wait as Peter picked up before the first ring.

“Hey babe, what’s up?” He said. You could practically hear his grin from down the phone.

“Hey, are you busy?” You spoke the best you could, wincing at the voice crack you made.

“Geezz, what's up with you?” Peter snorted, and you could hear the faint buzz of his Mrs Pacman machine, telling you he was in his basement. “Yer mouth sexed a can of helium or what?”

Rolling your eyes, you cleared your throat, ignoring the burning sensation traveling through your trachea. “Shut up, Maxipad-'' you could hear his groan through the screen “i was gonna say that i'm just not feeling that good right now. Nothing terminal, was just gonna ask if you could stop by or someth-?”

A woosh sounded from your phone before the call ended, and with a fwip, Peter was standing in your bedroom.

With your half-lidded eyes you glanced up to see your best friend, clad in his million dollar man tee and the only pair of pants you’ve ever seen him wear, the dark metallic color almost black due to the lack of light in your bedroom.

Donning his signature grin hinted with a smidge of concern, Peter blew a section of his silvery hair out of his face before his chocolate eyes locked onto yours. Peter titled his head in amusement, snorting at what you could only assume was your current state of appearance.

Before you could come up with a witty remark, a cough attack silenced your words, making you lean into a sitting position and struggle for breath. When it was over, you noticed Peter now standing on your left with his grin replaced with blatant concern, handing you a glass of water he seemed to have just magically pulled out of his ass.

You eyed the glass, your throat thirsty and parched, but suspicious over the unusual act of care.

“Did you spit in it?” You ask hoarsley, although accepting the drink.

“Please, i’m not that much of an airhead.” Peter argued, laughing at your deadpan gaze. “Besides, it’s not me who you should be worried about. We both know Scott is the most diseased out of all of us.”

“You're still hung up on that?” You barked in laughter before sputtering at the wave of pain sent through your throat.

A few weeks prior, the mansion held a birthday celebration for Kurt, where Scott had one too many to drink. The night ended with your friend sprawled out in a nearby bush outside the mansion, hurling into what poor Scott drunkenly believed was a bag.

The bag in question? Peter’s silver jacket.

“It was my only one!” Peter whined, “they don’t make ‘em anymore!”

You covered your laugh with your hand, knowing Peter’s beloved jacket was a sensitive topic. Although, you made a mental note to find a jacket as similar to his as possible, knowing that the speedsters birthday was just around the corner.

“I’m sure you’ll live.” You smiled, before furrowing your brows as you watched Peter rustling around your cupboards.

“I’m looking for some cough sweets” Peter remarked as he continued to rummage through your things, sensing your confusion. “-for your throat”

You nodded, pointing to a pair of drawers on the opposite side of where you were laying in bed. “Bedside table drawer.” Fwip.

Whilst focusing on adjusting your position into a comfortable one, you could hear the sound of the drawer being pulled open, the rustling indicating Peter’s fumbling.

A half-minute later, you find a comfy spot and turn towards Peter, the background noises coming to a stop and his voice speaking up.

“Found i- oh, hel-lo.” He whistled.

“Did you find the cough sweets?” You asked. Studying his gaze, you wrinkled your nose in puzzlement as Peter stared into the drawer, a wide grin forming on his flushed face.

From knowing Peter since the Xmen formed in ‘83, you recognised this smirk from anywhere, identifying it from when Peter teases you about something. Which of course, is constantly.

“What?” You turn to throw a blanket over yourself before looking back. As you do, you see Peter staring at you with a wicked smile, an arched eyebrow and-

Fuck.

Your silver vibrator in his hand.

Your eyes get impossibly wide and your jaw goes slack in a combination of surprise and pure horror. You completely forgot about that thing, being so busy with missions and training meant that you hadn’t had the time to kick back and relax like you used to do.

The realization that the vibrator was silver, your best friend's infamous signature color, only added to your embarrassment. How were you gonna dig yourself out of this one?

Peter’s grin only gets wider at the comical realization on your face. A few moments of silence and, as if you had been cured miraculously, you scrambled towards him, kneeling upon the bed so that you were only just in line with his twinkling eyes.

Peter snickered as you got closer, drawing the vibrator closer to his chest, almost possessively.

“A vibrator, huh?” He confirms in that annoying tone you had got to know so well. The tone that makes you want to sink into the ground and be one with the soil, no conscience or memory of the situation you are facing.

“That’s something personal, give it back.” You point out, sharp and firm. You extend your hand, waiting for Peter to give you the vibrator, but of course, you remain ignored. “Don’t get cocky about it. The color choice was a coincidence.”

Peter smiles lopsidedly and glances down at you. “I wasn’t sayin’ it was, babe.. But now you’ve got me thinkin’..” He ponders, quirking one of his eyebrows again and waving the silicone in the air mockingly, his thumb resting on the button of the vibrator keenly.

“It was the only color left in stock.” Liar.

Noticing his disbelieving gaze and cocky smirk, you know that you are just digging yourself a bigger hole. You grit your teeth, darting your hand out to try and grab your toy but to not avail, it doesn’t seem like he was giving it back anytime soon.

That annoys you more than it would if it was anyone else, but it's Peter, the most childlike, insufferable, annoying jerk you had ever had a silly crush on passionate hatred for.

You step closer to once more grab your embarrassing secret, but Peter yanks it down and hides it behind his back gleefully. You can't stop that quick move, but you manage to grab Peter by the bicep and push him back and against the bedside table.

You realize that you are now standing really close to him; one side of your body is pressed against Peter’s and you can even feel his tickling breath on your face. Peter stares at you with that twisted, amused look for a few more seconds before he starts blabbering again.

“I guess that you're more of a naughty chick than I was thinkin’, huh?” He speaks in a weird, yet somehow seductive, low voice.

A high-speed buzz trembled next to your ear and you turn, only for your eyes to set on the vibrator Peter was clutching, the silicone moving in rapid motion as he fiddled with the settings.

“This surely ain’t the fastest it can go?” Peter asked rhetorically, and you noticed as his teasing expression switched, as if he were struck dumb with surprise. “Pretty lame if you ask me babe.”

You clench your jaw as you felt the heat rising to your cheeks, the suggestive undertone from his words not going unnoticed by you. You fight against it, not wanting to blush and give Peter more satisfaction.

Another ego boost you fear may be fatal, but you can't help it; your cheeks turning crimson. Peter notices and giggles, nibbling the side of his lip.

“Ya know yer look totally bitchin’ when yer blushing?” He says coyly, and that comment only makes your blush intensify, however you refuse to back down. Nothing you do can bring you back from an endless lifetime of teasing hanging over your head.

“Stop that,” you say harshly, albeit shakily “And give me the vi-.. Just give it back,” Your nose wrinkles at the mere word, embarrassed to come to terms with what your best friend has found in your drawer. You tug Peter’s arm, harder this time, but he doesn't relinquish.

“Yer want it back?” he teases and you know exactly what's coming next. “Then come get it,” Peter pulls back his arm. Fwip. He stands confidently at the other side of your bedroom. You groan. “Why do you always have to act like this?!” You yell, exasperated but not surprised, feebly running after him.

Peter is now standing in the middle of your bathroom with a shit-eating grin and the vibrator dangling in his hand, joyfully inspecting the streaks of silver running along it.

You can only imagine what he is thinking in this moment, the thought of you spread out on your bed, thrusting your toy in and out at a steady pace, soft whimpers and praises of his name squeaking out of you. Peter’s cock twitched at the mere thought.

“Come on babe, if you want it back, you have to fight for it,” he goads, waving the vibrator right in your face.

That's it, you have to stop this now.

You throw yourself against Peter and you both fall back onto the bed. You struggle for a moment and the speedster is giggling the whole time, evidently amused by the situation. He surely loves torturing you like this and the thought of that makes you feel even angrier and struggle harder.

You keep trying to yank his right arm, but Peter pushes you back and hides the hand that's holding the vibrator behind his back once more, sporting a borderline malicious grin.

“What, babe? Are yer gonna give up now?” He teases with an evil smirk that makes you lose it again. You push him forward and manage to make him fall back in the bed. Then you get on top of him, straddling Peter as a way to keep him from moving, but the effort seems to be futile as he keeps shifting under you; his head ducked in the hollow of your neck and one of his hands holding you back by the hip.

After a moment, he stops struggling and you realize that Peter is breathing heavily. You can feel his warm breath brushing the side of your neck and you notice that your own breathing is hitching too.

You pull back, observing Peter's devil gaze. In record time, literally, Peter flipped your positions, his hands snaking into yours as he holds them either side of your head. You stay quiet, glancing up at your best bud and awaiting his next move.

Glancing down at your lips, Peter’s tongue protrudes as he swipes it across his own, chest heaving in excitement. “If yer gave me the chance, babe?” His words were sincere and low.

“I could take real good care of ya.” Peter’s now dark gaze looks up and bores into your own, emphasizing his words in a way that had you needing him already.

You gulped as your breath hitched, your legs involuntarily rubbing together for friction. Arousal seeped from your entrance, beginning to soak your panties, being concealed only by the oversized sleep shirt you had over you.

If Peter had this effect on you with just his words, you wondered how you would survive with him balls deep inside. The thought alone made your thighs quake.

You weren’t stupid. You were very aware of Peter’s dating history and his tendency to ‘get around.’ But could you blame him? With the power to move any part of his body at mind bogglingly rapid speeds, you were surprised that there wasn’t a line of women outside his dorm room each night, cash in hand.

Peter was a respectful lover, of course, making it known his intentions from the get-go, but you couldn’t help but feel insecure from the inexperience you had against him. You weren’t a virgin, but you absolutely weren’t experienced either.

Peter felt your legs quivering as he looked down, fighting against the Gods themselves to not moan at the sight before him. Your baggy shirt had lifted up during the tussle, revealing your lace panties, wet from your arousal. His own cock leaked in response, and Peter looked back up, awaiting your response.

He was Peter. Your Peter; and you trusted him wholeheartedly.

“Really?”

“Scout’s honor, babe.” Peter grinned, holding up four fingers. He wasn’t a scout, nor was he holding up the right amount of fingers, but that was enough for you.

Smiling, you nodded, and Peter’s nervous facade dropped instantly as a teasing smirk adorned his features. He sat up to pull his shirt over his head in one swift motion, then leant back down to meet you in a passionate kiss.

Your lips parted instantly, allowing his tongue to explore your mouth while his fingers found the hem of your shirt, sliding up until the pads of his fingers tickled and grazed your waist. Peter hummed in content, enjoying the slight jolts your body made in reaction to his soft touches.

Sliding his hand along your spine, your back arched, allowing Peter to pull you up into a sitting position and gently take off your shirt. Once the material was discarded on the floor and you were left in just your panties, Peter grinned like a schoolboy at the sight of your bare chest, watching your nipples gradually harden from the exposure to the cold air.

A low groan rumbled from the back of his throat as he leant forward to blow cool air on your tits briefly, making you whimper and curl your hands into his unbelievably soft hair that you were impossibly jealous of.

He leaned back quickly to remove his shirt, discarding it in the general direction where he threw yours.

Peter’s focus moved back to your face, taking you in another sweet kiss as his chest collided with yours. The warmth between your bodies was comforting, especially when Peter pressed them together and pulled back from the kiss to travel back down. He kissed down the valley of your breasts, moving to the underside with an unsuspecting nip, making you gasp and clutch onto his hands.

Your eyes closed as Peter worked on your chest, nipping, licking and sucking the both of them, leaving a trail of marks that showed your belonging to him. When his soft touches subsided, you opened your eyes, only to be met with Peter’s dark ones and a smirk gracing his pinkish lips.

You were about to question him on why he stopped before he shushed you and tilted his head teasingly.

“Be honest with me, babe. Yer bought that vibrator with me in mind.” Peter smiled cheekily as you flushed once more, shaking your head in denial.

“It was just a big coincid-” you stopped mid sentence as your best friend quirked his eyebrow, disbelief coating his expression. You sighed.

“I guess.. It might've been at the back of my mind..” you mumbled almost inaudibly, averting your gaze due to the sheer embarrassment of admitting your dirty secret to the very last person you intended to tell.

Peter mockingly leaned closer towards you, cupping his ear with his hand as if it were impaired. “I’m sorry, babe, couldn’t hear yer there. What did ya say?” You glared at him, only making him laugh and continue with the gesture until you did what he wanted.

“Okay- fine! Yes, it was about you. Don’t be gettin’ so cocky about it, alright?” You admitted, exasperated.

Peter snickered jovially, his chest puffing out in show that your words had already given him the ego boost he was craving for. You could barely revel in your humiliation before you gasped, a buzzing emitting from your clit that made you writhe in a frenzy.

“All yer had to do was tell me the where and when, babe.” Peter grinned, gazing at your blissful expressions as the pads of his fingers pressed deeper into your clit, making you rock your hips into his hand. “Yer don’t need that toy when ya have the living, breathing, undoubtedly sexier thing.” You failed to answer, instead nodding vigorously and whimpering.

The buzzes came to an abrupt stop as his hands slid back out of your soaking panties, and you whined at the loss of contact, humping the air to gain some sort of friction to keep you going.

Peter snickered beside you, a comment about how needy you were for him going unnoticed by you as you whined for his touch.

You gripped onto his hands tight, gasping as Peter once more began kissing down your chest, but this time passing your breasts and moving down your stomach, peppering kisses along the way.

“Your skin is so fuckin’ soft,” Peter groaned, grabbing your thighs with a “c’mere” and pulling you towards him “what typa baby powder are yer usin’, huh?” His voice blabbered on and you let out a sound that was between a chuckle and a moan, your chest heaving as you awaited his heavenly touches.

Hooking your aching legs over his shoulders, Peter reached for the strap of your underwear, his fingers hooking underneath and sliding them off. You could faintly hear the fumble of the material, unknowing that Peter had shoved your wet panties in his trouser pocket.

One of his hands reached upwards to join with yours again, giving you the added reassurance that you would be okay and safe with him.

Your mind completely dissociated from anything other than him as Peter parted your sticky folds with his tongue, sliding the wetness up until he reached the other end. He giggled into your core, making you furrow your brows in confusion but shiver at the vibrations rippling through you.

“I was thinkin’.. It just reminded me of that old guy parting the seas.” Peter chuckled, and your head lifted up to look at your best friend in pure shock. ”What was his name? Monty? Moses? Moses! It was Moses.”

The Fuck?

“You seriously cannot be quoting the bible whilst eating me out, Peter.” You couldn’t believe what he just said. He couldn’t have been the furthest from sexy in this moment, and yet your body was still trembling from anticipation and want. You laid back down, chuckling from the irony and utter bullshit Peter spew out.

“Sorry, sorry.” Peter grimaced, cringing at his own actions “not the time.” Letting out a breath of hot air that hit your center, you gasped, immediately forgetting about what just occurred.

Peter dove in fully this time, leaving you almost no time to prepare as his tongue swirled around your slick in a way that had you clawing at your interlocked hands, gripping Peter so tightly you feared you may be cutting off his circulation.

Your body jolted uncontrollably, and using his other hand, Peter pressed it against your stomach to cease your movements, your skin burning up underneath his touch.

The bed rocked underneath you, not only from your involuntary movements but from the relentless thrusts Peter made on the bed, his cock hardening from your squeaks and moans that he was creating. He humped the bed, groaning into your core, only adding in the stimulation and pleasure, taking you to the brink of screaming so loud that Ororo could be able to hear you from the other side of the mansion.

Peter’s nose tickled your clit as he lapped at your heat, giving you that extra stimulation that took you where you needed to get faster. Your breathing quickened as you felt a finger penetrate through your folds and fully into you, making you gasp and clench, begging him to just move. Move.

The mix of his tongue flicking and buzzing your clit and his now two fingers pumping you in and out sent you into a frenzy, your moans only spurring Peter on, taking him to the edge of his own release.

The only thing you could think about was Peter and the exhilarating pleasure that he was providing you. You seized up as if you were in fear his actions would stop altogether, burning pressure building inside of you to the point you felt like you might explode.

With a curl of his fingers against a particularly spongy spot inside of you, you cried out Peter’s name as your back arched expertly off the bed, blazing intense bliss shooting out from your core and spraying the mattress, your thighs and Peter’s face.

Crying out once more in pure euphoria, your back hit the bed as you spasmed, Peter’s tongue working you through your orgasm.

Breathing heavily, you shuddered as Peter’s fingers slid out of you, a trail of your sticky release coating his digits. He all but moaned at the sight, arousal pooling in his belly as he unconsciously jutted his hips forward once more, seeking and finding the contact for his rock hard erection that was painfully constricted in the tight confines of his pants.

After a few more sharp thrusts, a filthy moan came out from Peter, his mouth forming a perfect ‘o’ shape and thick ropes of hot cum spilling into his underwear.

As your high came to an end Peter moved to kneel above you, putting his slick-covered fingers into his mouth and closing his eyes, humming at the taste. You didn’t even have the strength to utter out thanks to Peter, watching him tiredly as he wiped his chin of arousal.

He leant down briefly to kiss the inside of both your quivering thighs before laying them down to rest against the mattress.

Humming a low chuckle at your blissed out state, Peter took you into a delicate kiss, the taste of yourself and the heat of your altercation invading your senses. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, pulling away after short intervals for air.

“Well?” he said, tucking a sweaty strand behind your ear.

“Well what?”

“Was it better than the vibrator?” Peter smirked, leaving wet kisses and hickies along your jawline that your peers would surely question about tomorrow.

You let out a few breaths, still struggling to come to terms with the fact that you just fucked your bestfriend.

“I think you know the answer to that, Peter.” You breathed lightly as his hair tickled your cheeks. He grinned against the skin of your neck, encouraging a tired smile of your own to break out.

He then sat up promptly, adorning a mischievous smile before using his speed to grab the vibrator, you watching him with wide eyes.

You thought he had the intentions for a second round, but you were dumbfounded as he sped over to your balcony, stepping outside and using his speed to throw the toy as far as a speedster deemed possible.

“Peter!!” You screeched, jumping out and quickly pulling on his tee, of which thankfully covered your bare bottom half, running up to the balcony and staring into the vast darkness. “That was mine, you airhead! You have to get it back!”

“It didn’t even work that well, princess.” Peter promptly shrugged at his actions, bending down to throw you over his shoulder. You screech once more, flinging your arms about in an attempt to cover your bare lower half, a string of obscenities leaving your sore throat.

He threw you onto the bed under the covers, disappearing for a nanosecond to clean up and then reappearing, wearing a sweatshirt and sleeping pants. Peter crawled under with you, nuzzling into your neck contently as if he hadn’t just lobbed your expensive toy to the other side of the continent.

You scoffed, pushing against his head. “I can’t believe you’ve actually just done that.”

Still unrelenting, Peters warm hands slowly rubbed up and down your thigh, as if trying to hypnotize you into sleep. “No regrets,” he grinned, voice slightly muffled as his breath hit your neck “besides, yer have me now babe.”

“Really?” You looked up at the ceiling in shock, not even thinking about what all this actually meant. “Like, as a couple?”

Peter nodded gleefully, moving his head away to look up at you with tousled hair and droopy eyes. “Just imagine, i can be your strong, handsome, ladies man, dreamy, seductive, great music taste, badass boyfriend that you can show off to all friends and family.” You laughed at his dreamy sigh, caressing your fingers into his hair.

“Seductive?” You question, your teasing smirk letting him know you were only joking around. “I would hardly compare you to Patrick Swayze.”

Peter gasped overdramatically, his hand quickly removing itself from your thigh, clenching it by his chest as if he were heartbroken. “Babe, have you seen my smoulder? The chicks faint at the sight.” You turn to look at him, only to see him adorning a quirked eyebrow and a theatrical smoulder not-so-gracefully embellishing his face.

You snort, using the hand in his hair to push Peter’s head back into your neck.

“The fact you just referred to women as ‘chicks’ only proves my point, Maxipad.” You say after a brief pause, only to be met with light snoring as Peter’s eyes closed, his arms wrapped around your middle and legs intertwined with your own.

You bit your lip from cheerfulness, relishing in the moment as your arms curl up by his chest, comforted by the heat radiating off his body.

It was the same cuddling as when his leg was broken, only the air had changed to that of intimacy, a warm buzzing feeling in your chest.

So yes, you had found something to do this weekend.

#peter maximoff #quicksilver #evan peters #xmen #evan peters masterlist #james patrick march #peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff fluff #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff smut #xmen peter maximoff #xmen days of future past #xmen headcanon #xmen quicksilver #xmen apocalypse

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matchavellichor · 8 months

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AAAANNNNND another one:

Omi begs MC to let him help her whenever she goes out to slay poachers, ect. She never wanted him to get hurt, so she has always said no. After Omi starts giving her the could shoulder over it, she can't take it anymore, and she allows him to come along.

They bit off more than they could chew, however, and the last living poacher casts Imperio on MC and commands her to kill Ominis. (Poacher's injuries are too great to do anything else. Also just wants to make her suffer by forcing her to slay her friend)

She tries to summon the will to fight it, but it's not working, despite Ominis yelling at her, trying to snap her out of it. She disarms Omi and starts walking towards him. Nothing works until he pulls her into a kiss. It jars her enough that she breaks free from it and kills the poacher C:

bada-bing bada-boom. Happy ending <3

A/N: Finally getting through more asks, sorry for the delay 🥴 This was such a cute idea, ty for the request!! 💕

Kisses Against the Dark Arts

f!MC x Ominis Gaunt - Fluff - 2k words

Tags: Minor Descriptions of Violence, Use of Imperius, Crime Fighting Besties, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Banter

Summary: After dismantling a poacher camp goes astray, Ominis resorts to more unconventional means to free his friend from a dark curse.

“Are we almost there?”

“That’s the eighth time in the last half hour,” she huffs. “Ask me one more time and I’ll leave you to the Dugbogs.”

“Oh, excuse me for being concerned,” Ominis raises his hands defensively. “We’re already breaking curfew, we really shouldn’t stay out too long.”

She turns to blink at him. “You’re tagging along to destroy poacher camps with me and your concern is that we’re…breaking curfew.”

“Well, yes, it’s a perfectly valid concern,” he scoffs, as if it’s obvious. “Besides, I have a reputation to keep if I want to be made prefect next year.”

She shakes her head, incredulous. “I hate to burst your bubble, Ominis, but I think your reputation’s been sullied enough just by spending time with Sebastian.”

“Actually, I think it’s the contrary,” he retorts, looking smug. “I’m hoping that if Headmaster Black sees that I can successfully rally in the likes of Sebastian, he’ll consider me apt for the position.”

She considers this reasoning for a moment, before turning him with furrowed brows. “Didn’t he unleash a horde of inferi near the outskirts of Hogsmeade just last week? Is that what you call rallying in?”

Ominis looks unfazed, shrugging. “You win some, you lose some. I pick my battles.”

“Well, uh—now would be a good time to pick your battle,” she murmurs as she suddenly gets into a defensive position, wand arm outstretched in front of her. “We’ve got company, twelve o’ clock.”

“Why do you say these things as if I’ll know what you mean—” Ominis interrupts himself with a shriek as a spell just barely misses his head.

She swiftly casts a few counterattacks while she ducks behind splintered logs and trees, shouting, “Up ahead, Ominis—I mean up ahead! Was the hurtling bombarda enough to solidify your sense of direction?”

Ominis narrowly avoids another incoming hex, a diffindo this time, rolling for cover into some underbrush. “Yes, thank you dearly for your help—you wouldn’t believe the wonders that near-decapitation will do for your spatial awareness!”

She sends a pillar of wooden crates careening through the air towards a trio of poachers, successfully burying them under layers of debris.

Ominis winces from behind her at the very audible sound of bones breaking. “Must you be so violent?”

An archer catches them off-guard from a surrounding tower and Ominis promptly sends a confringo in his direction, toppling the wizard from his perch in a fireball of flames.

“I hate to be that person, but I think that was arguably a bit more violent,” she murmurs, looking increasingly amused.

“Oh, quiet,” he scolds. “Minor lapse in judgment in the heat of the moment.”

“Did Ominis Gaunt just make a pun?” she shouts over a chain of stupefies and expelliarmus, amusement and incredulity seeping through her tone.

He rolls his eyes. “It was not a pun, that would be terribly inappropriate.”

Even with a fair amount of banter to slow them down, working together they manage to eviscerate every last poacher with ease, and in record time. They free all of the captured animals with a few alohomoras, and she watches with satisfaction as they prance gratefully back into the forest.

Wiping off the soot on her cheeks from an awry confringo, she walks over to check up on Ominis leaning against a large oak tree, trying to catch his breath, doubled over with his hands on his knees.

“That was…”

“Surprisingly smooth, right?” she beams. “I have to admit, I’m impressed. I thought I’d be casting a few limb reattachment spells by now, but you actually held your own.”

Ominis looks visibly unamused. “Well, you’re going to be casting a scourgify pretty soon…Gods, I’m going to be sick. Is it normal to smell so heavily of charred flesh?”

“All in a day’s work, my friend,” she pats his back a bit too harshly and he dry heaves over the grass. “Though, to be fair, I wasn’t the one going crazy on the fire spells.”

“They’re effective!”

“Effective at making human barbecue, sure,” she snorts.

He groans. “Dear Salazar, let’s just get out of here before I lose my dinner.”

She finally concedes, picking up her rucksack and slinging it over her shoulder when a jet of white light hits her from behind, nearly toppling her over from the full force of the spell that hits her square in the back.

All Ominis can hear is the Imperius incantation sounding in his ears from behind them, and a satisfied snicker from a lone surviving poacher, more than pleased that he hit his mark.

Ominis scrambles for his wand tucked away in his pocket, but the panic coursing through his veins at his friend being struck makes his reflexes unsteady. An expelliarmus knocks his wand out his hand before he can even properly point it towards the aggressor.

“Oh, this should be fun,” a grating voice shouts, and Ominis’ head darts towards the direction of the dark wizard. “Teach you meddling little shits not to poke your snout ‘round where it don’t belong.”

The wizard directs his attention to where she’s still standing frozen in place, staring blankly ahead, her pupils a hazy white. A cruel sneer stretches across his mouth and he nods his head towards Ominis. “Kill him.”

She charges for Ominis immediately, forcing the blonde to stumble back, toppling over a tree stump. She looms over him, wand arm outstretched and emotionless eyes staring down at him, before the wizard tsks disapprovingly from behind.

“Stop, stop. Use your hands,” he sighs, almost bored. “I think killing your friend warrants a bit more intimacy, no?” The evil cackle that rises from his throat is enough to make dread shiver down Ominis’ spine.

Obediently, she discards her wind beside her, landing somewhere out of reach on the grassy field. She lunges for him, pinning him down with her body on his, fingers scrambling to wrap around his throat.

She’s smaller than him, but hours of training in the Undercroft has grown her strength significantly. Ominis finds it a genuine struggle to hold her hands away, her nails digging long, red lines down his arms as she thrashed.

“F-finite incantatem! Finite—oh, dear Merlin,” he attempts to no avail, voice frantic, her name tumbling from his lips in a litany of pleas to get her to snap out of the trance. “It’s me, it’s me, you can break the spell, just concentrate!”

“Uh oh, I don’t think she can hear you.” The poacher sits on a fallen tree trunk watching the entire ordeal, arms crossed lazily over his chest, a sadistic grin pulled at his lips.

Ominis ignores the taunting, using more force against her, collecting both of her hands in one of his while she still claws and writhes above him.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Genuine remorse bleeds through Ominis’ voice as he scrambles to push her off him, flipping them over and pinning her wrists to the ground underneath him. “Please.”

The poacher frowns at the sudden change in position, unpleased. “Use the dagger holstered on your hip,” he directs with his wand outstretched to ensure the full-force of the command. “‘Bout time things got more interesting.”

She unsheathes the dagger in one swift movement, blade pressed against the pale expanse of Ominis’ throat, teeth bared in a vicious snarl.

It’s momentary, fleeting, but just then something flashes in her eyes. A brief flicker in the trance, the slightest stutter in her hand, color seeping through the milky haze of her irises. It’s gone as quickly as it comes, but proves useful anyways.

Ominis capitalizes on this hesitation to wrap his hand around her wrist and keep her from applying too much pressure. A bead of blood runs down the long length of goblin-wrought steel, Ominis’ throat bobbing against the cold press as he swallows nervously. He winces when she tries to dig the dagger in more, cutting into unmarked skin.

“It’s me, hey, hey, just listen,” he tries to keep his voice steady, calming, but it wavers, his nerves an utter mess. “Your magic’s stronger than his. You can break it. Focus on my voice.”

“Oh, sure, that’ll work.” The poacher snorts, clearly entertained. “Maybe you should kiss her, lover boy, she might just be repulsed enough to snap out of it!” He doubles over laughing and Ominis grits his teeth in frustration.

The suggestion doesn’t fall on deaf ears, however.

Maybe he can blame the decision later on sheer desperation, a last ditch-effort to save his skin, pure adrenaline in the moment. Although, he would be lying if he said that was the sole motivation. He surges forward on instinct, lips crashing into hers, maintaining one hand in a vice-like grip around her wrist and the other cupping her cheek so she can’t squirm away from his mouth.

She freezes, eyes blowing wide, lips unmoving against his. The poacher is just as petrified beside them, in shock that Ominis had the gall to actually do it.

Just when he thinks his attempt was unsuccessful, the hand she has wrapped around the dagger goes slack, losing all pressure against his skin. She lets it fall to the grass beside them, blade discarded, before she’s bringing it back up to cup his cheek and pull him in for more.

Ominis feels his entire world tilt, his face heating, his brain too dizzy to procure a single coherent thought. It really is a terrible circumstance to have a world-shattering kiss.

Thankfully, she’s somehow able to maintain better mental faculties. She outstretches a hand, fingers splayed open, casting a wordless accio for her wand dropped a few meters away from them.

The poacher is staring at them, mouth gaped like a fish, which is exactly how he remains when she sends a petrificus hurtling in his direction, another exhibition of impeccable wordless magic—because she absolutely refuses to remove her lips from his.

He can feel her smug smirk when it hits the wizard square in the chest, toppling him over like a bag of bricks. He would’ve called her a show-off, if he had even the remotest capacity for words at the moment.

When she finally pulls away, his chest is heaving, a red flush creeping over his skin from under his oxford, over his neck and cheeks. She’s breathless when she finally finds her words, bottom lip pulled between her teeth. “That’s…certainly one way to break an Imperius.”

He lets out an awkward laugh before sheepishly helping her up off the ground, dusting remnants of leaves and dirt off her clothes. He clears his throat, trying to feign an air of indifferent composure. “Are you alright?”

She glances at him sidelong, amused by just how affected he looks. “Not sure,” she smirks. “Might want to kiss me again, just to get rid of any traces of the curse. After all, you can never be too caref—mmph!”

While her intentions were just to tease, she can’t deny the thrill that courses through her when he actually wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against his body. Her gasp dies on his lips as he presses his mouth to hers, her fingers curling into his shirt for support when her knees seem on the brink of buckling.

He kisses her hungrily, passionately, as if he wants there to remain no blurred lines between his intentions in kissing her, if the last one has left any room for doubt. This time, she feels her world tilt on its axis, her only grounding point being the protective confines of Ominis’ arms, his solid body pressed against hers.

She realizes she could spend hours like this, and she wonders why for two fearless, poacher-fighting mercenaries, neither of them had mustered the courage to do so sooner.

“Better?” he finally pulls away, the ghost of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips, coated in smug satisfaction to rival even her own.

“I don’t know,” she grins, bringing her arms up to lock behind his neck. “Maybe we should be really, really sure.”

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis x mc #hogwarts legacy imagine #hogwarts legacy ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fan fiction #fanfiction

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lyranova · 10 months

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Heyyy! Could you write a yami x reader where his s/o is aware of Charlotte's crush on him and she feels self conscious and competitive (kinda like vanessa) but yami is totally oblivious as usual and thinks smthg is weird

Hiya anon! Of course I can, and I apologize that this is a bit short but I still hope you enjoy~!

Word Count: 777

Warning: None

———

Yami watched as the young woman trained in front of the Black Bulls hideout. She had been training for hours on end, and when she wasn’t training it was like she was showing off her other skills. She challenged Vanessa to a drinking contest, Magna and Luck to a sparring match, and even challenged Charmy to a cooking competition!

The strangest thing of all though, was the way she challenged Charlotte Roselei to all of those things as well. It was like she had been practicing with the Bulls just so she could challenge Charlotte.

“ Hey Finral,” Yami suddenly called out as he turned away from his girlfriend to look at the Spatial mage. “ What’s going on with her?”

“ Oh,” Finral said as he looked out the window as well. “ Well, to be honest, I think she’s feeling a little, erm, self-conscious.”

“ ‘Self-conscious’? About what?” Yami asked with a confused frown, he had never known her to be that way. Finral suddenly looked sheepish and scratched the back of his head.

“ I think…it has to do with Captain Roselei’s crush on you, Captain.” Finral said nervously and that only made Yami’s confusion grow.

“ The Prickly Princess has a crush on me?”

“ You didn’t know?!” Finral asked in surprise before nodding. “ Yeah that tracks to be honest.” He muttered under his breath and Yami glared at him.

“ What did you say, Hot Wheels?”

“ N-Nothing Captain Yami sir!” Finral said quickly and nervously before changing the subject. “ A-Anyway! I think that’s what has her acting this way, she’s feeling competitive and self-conscious with Captain Roselei.”

“ Well that’s stupid.” Yami muttered with a shake of his head. “ They’re two completely different people with different skill sets and personalities. So I don't know why she’s trying to compete when there’s no competition.”

“ Sir?” Finral asked with a confused frown before he watched Yami walk out of the hideout and go towards his girlfriend.

Yami watched as she shot another spell at the tree and whistled in an impressed fashion.

“ That was a good shot, but I don’t think the tree appreciated it.” Yami said as he watched the woman take a deep breath and put her grimoire away.

“ Yeah well the tree had it coming,” She joked as she walked over to her cantine and took a sip of water. “ What are you doing here? Didn’t you have a mission with Finral?”

“ I pushed it back a bit, Wheels is tired from taking the other brats to town earlier.” Yami explained with a shrug before he crossed his arms. “ Anyway, Finral told me why you’re training so hard, he said you’re trying to compete with Prickly Princess.”

“ That loud mouth,” The woman muttered as she glared at the Hideout before letting out a sigh. “ I’m not competing with her per se-.” She began but Yami cut her off.

“ Good, because there’s no competition between you two.” Yami said firmly, and the woman looked up at him as her heart sank. She knew what he was going to say, and so she closed her eyes and braced herself for his words.

“ Because you always come out on top in my opinion.”

The woman’s eyes shot open and looked up at him, he had a big grin on his face and he reached out to pat her head gently. She was very confused, in his opinion, she outranked Charlotte Roselei? How did that make any sense?

“ You both have different personalities and skill sets, and as much as I like Charlotte, I like you a lot more. You’re brilliant, kind, determined, you treat me as an equal and you’ve never talked down to me or judged me because I was a foreigner.” Yami said as he patted her head again. “ You push me to be a better man and Captain, and you always have my back when I need it most.”

“ So, stop comparing yourself to Charlotte and stop being so self-conscious. Because at the end of the day, I’m in love with you, got that?” He asked and he watched a smile appear on the woman’s face.

“ Yeah I got it,” The woman said with a nod. “ I’m sorry I’ve been acting…weird about it lately. I just let everything get to me.”

“ It’s not your fault, and I should be the one apologizing. Honestly I shoulda noticed it sooner and realized that it was because of Charlotte. I’ll talk to her about her crush when I see her tomorrow, so don’t worry.” Yami said firmly as he walked over and stood beside her. “ C’mon let’s go get something to eat.”

The woman nodded and the couple walked back up to the Hideout.

———

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you have a good day~!

#asks #anon🌟#black clover #black clover x y/n #black clover x you #black clover x reader #yami sukehiro #sukehiro yami #yami x reader #yami sukehiro x reader #sukehiro yami x reader #black clover yami #yami black clover #black clover oneshot #black clover fanfiction

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laf-outloud · 8 months

Note

Hi,

Here is the European Anon (or Troll as I am called at the moment). I would like to clarify a few things. I am a fan. Of the show, of the characters, of the two J's. That's the reason why the info about the contract could hurt me so much in the first place. Because this time it affected me myself. I've worked with stars who showed up to work (con) drunk. Who spent more time on Grindr than signing autographs. Who treated their Händlers like crap, while up front they were the loving, attentive star. You learn two things quickly in the businees. The manager is always right, and the star is never the bad guy. We had two guests from an equally famous CW show. The managers had agreed to a duo shoot. The problem was that they hated each other. In the sense of, we had to separate the two spatially, because otherwise it would have come to fisticuffs. The managers of both parties tried everything to make the duo shoot possible somehow and while one star finally agreed to get it over with "professionally", the other remained stubborn. The end? The duo was canceled with the reason "unforeseen scheduling difficulties" Well, sounds familiar? (No it's not Vampire Diaries, Paul and Ian are really like brothers, lol).

What you also learn very quickly. The fans forgive everything and the star is perfect in their eyes. No matter whether stars were bad-tempered, bitchy or sometimes even downright unfriendly, the fans always found an excuse for them, or in the end made us organizers responsible for it. Well, we can live with that, as long as people still pay for their tickets. At the end of the day it is a business.

Why am I writing this? So far it has never really affected me. For me, most of them are just people like you and me and I could deal with most of the stars in a really friendly or business way. But I've been a fan of Supernatural since the beginning. And then such an info is no longer professional but hurts.

I want to make it very clear that no SPN star I have ever dealt with has been unprofessional or unfriendly. Even though Misha's manager is a terrible woman, he himself was always polite to us as employees. And even from colleagues who have worked with J2 so far, there has never been a negative word.

That is why I was so looking forward to working with them. To be able to experience this famous friendship directly.

I am not so high in the hirachie that I get to read a direct correspondence of the management. I also can't say which Con I work for without risking my job. I know it's easier to make me out to be a liar than to accept that I might be right. I realize that and I can even understand that.

I've been sitting on this information for weeks, but who am I going to tell? Who believes me? I've talked to two close friends about it who are also fans and they didn't believe it either.

The trigger was the first reports from Charlotte. I have friends who are on site and yes, probably their euphoria and two glasses of wine on my part made me write to two people. Patrick (TFW) and LOL Jackles . Who I have found through Tumblr several times to be relatively fair and interested in facts. But there was no response. I was honestly taken aback by this, because even if they won‘t believe me, why not share the info anyway? Or at least respond to it? If there is nothing to what I say, then it could be quickly invalidated or? Unless the two know exactly that I'm right and are afraid of when it comes out.

I have written to you days later. you can look it up. I read post that you and others wondered why jared and jensen only come to different cons. That's why I thought, okay I'll send it again. I found your explanation of not posting it understandable and at least you didn't immediately ignore it. Thanks for that. that's also why I'm replying exclusively to you.

Again, I understand if you don't believe me. After all, I didn't want to believe my boss either. I thought he was just not willing to pay the 300 K (And that's what they cost each).

But now exactly what he said happens.

If I am telling the untruth, then why is Jared actually appearing at the same promoters (Monopoy Events, Entertainment Events Etc) on a different date than Jensen and always including Gen? And look at the line up of the English cons and tell me that you could not have paid Jared‘s fee to run various duo shots! If I'm lying, why is Creation now releasing the second convention for 2024 with only Jensen as headliner but not with Jared? It can't be the money, because Creation takes the same amount for the tickets as usual. And schedule difficulties during an official strike ? Hardly. You can call me a troll, but I am a fan as well, I know that you want to believe until the end that everything is good. But I just think the fans have at least a right to hear the truth. And that is that Jared's management will get away from creation cons in the future and will favor cons that Jensen doesn't attend.

Thank you for writing in, again. I'm sorry that because of the multiple asks, you've been classified as a troll. I've been on Tumblr long enough that I've seen multiple copy/paste asks and they most often are a troll, but I can see your reasoning. (I will say that TFW2.0 is a fan of Jensen first, so anything that could put him in a negative light will be summarily dismissed.)

I decided to post this response since your original ask seems to have been seen by multiple other people despite not being posted and I'll allow people to make up their own minds about what they want to believe.

I will say that Jared's absence from the con in July could be due to other reasons, like his standard summer vacation or birthday stuff, and June could be because he anticipates that they might be filming Walker into the summer, depending on how long the strike lasts.

When it comes to doing cons with or without Jensen, I know my initial response was regarding Jared's mental health, but it could also be a strategic business decision. Jared may want to distance himself from SPN (and Jensen) to open up other acting/producing opportunities. It's not always advantageous to just be known as "one of those guys from SPN." He's said before that he enjoys producing and I'm sure he knows Walker isn't going to last forever. An actor/producer's career shouldn't be defined by one role. He may also be promoting Gen to help increase her profile if they plan on producing together in the future. I'm sure there are some who, if they believe it's true, will take it personally, but it really may just be a business decision.

Either way, thank you for sharing. And if there are people who agree/disagree and decide to write to me with their rebuttals, please remember to do so respectfully. I won't post anything with accusatory language, insults, or outright dismissals.

#ask box #european anon #convention discussions #tfw2.0 critical #jensen critical #just in case #jared and gen convention appearances

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acacia-may · 1 month

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Acacia's Definitive Defense of Langris x Finesse

No one asked about this pairing, but I'm going to ramble about them anyway... especially since I realized I don't think I've ever actually written a proper post about them as this has been sitting in my drafts for over a year (A/N: Yikes! Sorry friends. I completely forgot I wrote this until today when I tried to find that post I was absolutely certain I had made about Langris x Finesse only to find it buried in my unposted drafts 😅🙈 But I'm posting it now to coincide with the ship ask game so it kind of works...? Maybe? I have no excuses...).

Anyways, dear goodness do I have thoughts about this ship. I’m not sure I can even wrangle them all, but I am going to try my best.

I’m sure it’s pretty clear from my blog that I have a deep love for my spatial mage boys and want good things for them which is one of the main reasons why I have a lot of concerns about the whole House Vaude soap opera. A friend of mine (irl) and I once discussed that plotline for literally 6 hours so I could go on and on about this for ages, but I have tried my best to be brief. That didn't really happen so I apologize in advance for all of the rambling.

I've tried to keep the focus of this post on Langris and Finesse's relationship, so please check out this post if you want to hear my many thoughts on the House Vaude succession drama as whole and in general. To keep things organized, I've divided this discussion into 2 main subsections for clarity under the cut!

(Warnings: Black Clover spoilers and discussion of some heavier topics such as childhood trauma and abuse. Arranged marriage is also mentioned)

Why I Think Langris and Finesse Genuinely Love Each Other (not necessarily in a romantic way but definitely in a selfless care and concern kind of way)

One of my most basic premises for my personal interpretation of Langris' character really comes down to the fact that I think what Langris actually wants more than anything else is unconditional love and to be accepted for who he is (rather than what he does/his accomplishments). He wants to have people who love him, a family—but he'd never admit this because he is convinced he'll never get it. He is convinced that love needs to be earned and he can't earn it, and his relationship with Lady Finesse is a perfect example of this, I think.

It hurts Langris that she is just the kindest person ever and she doesn't like/love him (or such is the reality in Langris' mind anyway given the fact that he has carried around that one time she complimented Finral as "she hates me" for literal years in the canon. But I digress). Langris doesn't like games he can't see a possibility of winning. He closes himself off from love and building meaningful relationships because he doesn't think he'll "win" people's love in the end. He's very cynical and jaded in this way, but more than that, he's wounded. It comes from a place of being denied love without strings attached, without conditions for his entire life and of being told his by his parents that love has to be earned and being convinced that he can't earn it, that nothing he does will ever be good enough and that he will never deserve the love he so desperately craves. And in that way, it comes from a fear of being hurt and rejected. When you care about someone, you give them the power to hurt you—and Langris doesn't want that kind of vulnerability. So I think he just completely counts himself out of the running when it comes to Finesse and defers to his brother—assuming (probably correctly) that she’d choose Finral if she was given a choice between the two of them.

All of that said, he can't quite stop himself from caring for her with a genuine love and respect (not necessarily in a romantic sense but he does care for her)—it’s just sealed off somewhere and not something he really thinks about or allows himself to feel (let alone label) until his brother "declaring war" on him brings all of that to the surface and he kind of has to reconcile how much he wants to be the Head of House Vaude (what he’s worked for his entire life) with how much he wants Lady Finesse to be happy. I love how in that scene there is actually a moment (at least in the anime) in which "the camera" turns and we're watching the scene unfold from Langris' eyes/perspective immediately before he gets involved and tells Finral to clean up his act.

(A/N: If you listen very carefully you can hear the sound of Langris' entire world falling apart...)

Okay, bad jokes aside, this is a huge moment for Langris. It takes him all of five seconds to decide that Lady Finesse's happiness is far more important to him than House Vaude, than his title, his future, his own dreams and aspirations that he has worked for literally his entire life and, ultimately, is more important than everything he has looked to for his own self-worth and fulfillment up unto that point (which causes him to have a bit of an existential crisis as he tries to figure out who he is without those things, without being the next Head of House Vaude, but I digress again). It is an incredible act of love to set aside what someone wants for themselves in order to make another person happy—to choose what is best for another person even at great personal sacrifice. Regardless of how you want to qualify that love (romantic or platonic), it does not diminish the gravity of Langris' sacrifice and the willingness he shows to choose Finesse's happiness over the things that are (seemingly) the most important to him in the world.

Up until this point, Langris is this incredibly goal-oriented character who is set on becoming the best, the strongest, and eventually the head of House Vaude which comes off as self-interested and a little ruthless in his willingness to do whatever it takes to achieve his goals, but suddenly, here he is, ready to give all of that up so that Lady Finesse can have the chance to be happy. It's almost like he is saying (honestly, far louder and clearer than any words possibly could), "I love you more than all of that."

Why else would he be helping his brother take over as heir to House Vaude when that actually seems to be something Langris wants for himself? (I know the poll I ran examined some different ideas and interpretations but that's always been my personal take on it). It’s almost like in that moment, Langris has realized that he can’t make Lady Finesse happy (even if he wants to), but he thinks that Finral can so he wants to make Finral into the best he can be for her.

Once Langris is reasonably sure that Finral is at a place that he can make Finesse happy and has become a man "worthy of her," I could definitely see him stepping aside so that his brother could take over their House and marry her—purely out of concern for Finesse’s happiness, and there is something incredibly selfless and very beautiful about that.

I think Finesse's side of things is much more practical. The fact of the matter is that Finesse is royalty in a medieval society where she will inevitably be married off for a political alliance and/or to produce children, and she has probably always known that she needs to marry out of duty/responsibility, so I can’t really see her as that much of a hopeless romantic given the circumstances. If she allows herself anything, it is the hope that she will get to spend her life with someone who does care for her and who she can be content with. I don't think throughout most of Finesse's life and certainly not throughout this whole arranged marriage business that anyone has ever really asked her what she wanted or ever really cared about her wishes before, but Langris seems to have a genuine interest in her wishes and her happiness more so than anyone else. And I think she does care for him (again, not necessarily in a romantic way but it is a genuine care and concern of at least friendship).

As I discussed in this post, when Langris has all that elf-business and the King threatens to dissolve the betrothal and punish the Vaudes, it is Finesse who comes to their defense rather than taking what is quite possibly her only chance at an "out." And it is an informed, free choice on her part. I love her line in the English dub that she "knows Lord Langris and has no misgivings about him" and therefore essentially begs her uncle not to "judge him too harshly." I think there is something very strong and very courageous in her decision to believe in the good in Langris even when he is at his worst, and her concern is truly and completely focused on what is best for him. I'm especially thinking of that moment when she begs him to stop before he does something he will regret. She's worried about him: his hurt and his guilt. She really wants what's best for him, and it's this love for him and this belief in him that really brings out the best in Langris.

My absolute favorite thing about this ship (besides how selfless they are towards each other) is really that Finesse has this way of bringing out this softer, gentler side of Langris that, I think, very few people have actually seen. Langris himself is so insistent on hiding this (probably a learned response from growing up in an environment where any hint of emotion and any sensitivity is viewed as a weakness), but really he has such a deep capacity for love and given the opportunity would be fiercely loyal.

Langris may not care about a lot of people, but the ones he chooses to care about he will love forever. He's just such a tsun about it, I think, so it can be very hard for anyone (and especially for those with preconceived notions of him as a snotty stick-in-the-mud) to see that he's really very sweet and awkward as heck about his feelings. Langris' love might be quiet—it's not very flashy and usually shows itself in doing little, everyday things for the people he loves—but still waters run very, very deep and he has shown that he would do just about anything to protect the people he loves most and make them happy, no matter what that means for himself. I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that he would die for Finesse if it came down to it.

Ultimately, I can imagine a lot of different outcomes for this relationship (some of which never, ever cross over into that romantic place). I really just want them both to be happy whether that means they end up together or not, but yes, I could see them happy with each other in a romantic sense under very specific circumstances since they do have such a selfless love for each other (but I think that is probably a discussion for another time because this is already super, super long so I'm cutting myself off in favor of the next section...).

Why I personally think Langris rather than Finral is better suited for Finesse

As much I don't like pitting ships against each other, I don't think it's avoidable in this case since she is going to be in arranged marriage with one of them. To paraphrase a favorite musical of mine, it's not a matter of "if" but which one. And I think it's best for me to just start off by saying that while I do genuinely like and appreciate Finesse and Finral as a ship as well, I personally think that Langris and Finesse are better suited for one another in the long term.

I will admit upfront that this is in part because of my own personal experiences of having a chronic illness (and needless to say that is a personal bias that colors my opinions, so please just keep that in mind), but I think it's important to talk about the fact that Finesse is chronically ill because it's not something I've ever really seen discussed when talking about ships for her and I really think it should be taken into account. Like Finesse, I have been sick for most of my life, and I can really relate to the kind of difficulties and limitations that Finesse likely experiences due to being chronically ill and the realities of the less active and much more slower-paced life she would lead and, by proxy, the life anyone who married her would have to lead. Again, I am not saying that I don’t like or couldn’t imagine her & Finral together (I do genuinely like that ship too), but I almost think Langris is better suited for her in that he actually wants (or seems to want) the slower-paced life they’d probably have together. For instance, there are likely to be frequent situations that would arise in which Finesse is too ill or too tired to go out and her husband would then be “forced” to stay home with her. With Langris, I think, there would never really need to be much of that feeling of guilt on Finesse’s part or the fear that she is taking away something from Langris or being a burden, because Langris isn’t super sociable and would just want to stay home anyway. In fact, let’s be honest here, he’d probably, actually feel kind of relieved that he has gotten out of unwanted socializing. Whereas Finral is a much more lively and sociable person (rather than an "old soul" like Langris), and though Finral would never, ever want Finesse to feel like a burden or to feel guilty about being sick, I could imagine there is more of that feeling (at least from Finesse’s side) that he has given up a lot more to be with her since his active social life would drastically change as soon as they married.

There's also the matter of the panic Finral would probably have whenever Finesse was ill or having a flare of symptoms. Of course, Langris would be worried as well, but I think because of his personality, he is better able to shelve that and help in a crisis rather than Finral who gets really worked up and then just sort of shuts down. Obviously this is something that can be learned over time, but I just worry that it would be a constant source of stress for Finral which would ultimately make Finesse very worried about him and upset that he is upset on her account. I think Finesse would have a lot of fear that the life she could give a lively, busy, & social person like Finral would be holding him back in some way. The question there is really: will what Finral wants out of life ever gel with the limitations Finesse has to live with? Whereas I don't think that question is as much of an issue with Langris since he is an old soul and incredibly steady, very unlike his more restless, adventurous, and high-energy brother.

I think Langris and Finesse are alike in this way. Though they have many differences in their personalities (and a really nice balance there), they have a lot of similarities in worldview and their attitudes towards life and their life goals—being more traditional, formal, and proper ‘old souls.' Whereas I think she and Finral have more similarities in personality (despite him being much more lively), they’re both incredibly kind, gentle & easy-going people who aren’t particularly ambitious and often make decisions based on what will make other people happy and "keep the peace." But worldview wise he seems much more modern and less traditional than her which I could see causing some tensions since I think they want different things out of life, in a way. It’s almost more important to be alike in life goals/worldview than personality, I think.

I also think Finesse and Langris share common interests and genuinely enjoy each other's company (as we get these glimpses of in the anime where they're just having a quiet, comfortable tea parties together for instance). Even if it started off as an obligation to spend time together because of this arranged marriage they were going to be in, I like to think that eventually Langris and Finesse actually became fairly good friends and came to genuinely enjoy each other's company. I guess it’s a bit unfair to Finral to bring this up since we haven’t seen him spend a lot of time with Finesse so we can't say that they don’t enjoy each other’s company but I just don’t see them having the same shared interests that she would have with Langris.

There is a lot more I could say about these two and their relationship, but I think that's enough ramblings for now. If you read this all the way through to the end, bless you. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk. Cheers!! 💖

#i love them so so so much #langris vaude #finesse calmreich #langris vaude x finesse calmreich #finesse calmreich x langris vaude #finesse x langris #langris x finesse #i can't believe i never posted this (what is wrong with me?)

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alby-rei · 1 year

Text

The Shy & Clumsy Physicist (IkeVamp; Isaac Newton)

a/n: I haven’t opened the ikevamp app in months, and when I did revisit it the other day, I was hit with nostalgia from the music alone. Decided to tackle an old wip from a retrospective angle, thinking of doing the same to the rest of the bunch. Thus, I present to you a piece of my Memories of the Mansion, talking to Isaac Newton for the first time.

[Characters]: You & Isaac (ft. Napoleon)

[Word count]: ~1000 words

[Notes]: Pre-relationship, first meetings, can be read as platonic, gender-neutral reader

~*~

In a mansion full of accomplished and renowned historical figures, Isaac Newton was no slouch. If anything, he was among the most dedicated to continuing his previous life's work. He could work for hours on a single contraption without a care for the outside world, never losing patience and or focus. And yet, whenever you walked into the room he was working in or made your presence known to the hard-working scientist, something in him would switch.

He'd stumble on his words and bump his elbow or knee against the nearest furniture. It's like he'd lost all sense of spatial awareness, and his vision tunneled in on you and every shift of your facial expression.

Isaac's demeanor was endearing, to say the least. You may even call it cute. But the longer it persisted, the more you worried about him. He could seriously injure himself soon, if he hasn't already.

One time, you greeted him in the hall on your way to the kitchen as he came down the stairs from the second floor. His foot missed a step and nearly sent him tumbling down if it weren't for Napoleon's quick reflexes pulling his arm back to straighten him.

"You've been spacing out a lot lately, something on your mind?" Napoleon asked.

"No, no. I'm quite alright." You were already gone behind the swinging kitchen door when he looked back.

"I see. It is not something, but someone that is on your mind, hm?" Napoleon nudged.

Isaac whipped his head around. "How did you know?"

"You just told me, with your eyes." Napoleon tilted his head in the same direction as Isaac's gaze a second ago. He smirked. "And your reaction confirmed it."

"Nothing escapes you it seems." Isaac sighed. "But it really is nothing. I just feel so nervous around them."

"The new helper? Why’s that?"

Before Isaac could elaborate on his dilemma, you emerged again from the kitchen, looking much relieved to be empty-handed.

"And how do you do, gentlemen?" You greeted cordially, imitating a guest at a ball.

Napoleon played along, bowing in response. "All is well, et tu?"

"Much the same, thank you, Monsieur Bonaparte."

You shared a laugh, and Isaac looked between you two like you spoke some ancient tongue he was unaware of.

"Just 'Napoleon' will do, no need to be so formal."

"Right, still getting used to that," you said. You smiled at both of them. Isaac looked like he wanted to say something, but it remained caught in his throat. "I better get to my next task. Sebastian really isn't going easy on me, despite it being my second week! See ya!"

"Do let us know if you ever need help." Napoleon called out to your retreating figure.

"How did you do that?" Isaac asked.

"Do what?"

"Talk with them so...normally, casually."

"How to talk to MC?" Napoleon echoed. "Words are a good start."

"I'm serious!" Isaac's face warmed up, and his friend's laughter wasn't doing him any favors. "It's not that simple."

"But it is. Alright, how about this: talk about your day or your work. I'm sure they'd love to hear about it."

Isaac didn't understand the logic behind it. Would you really be willing to listen to him babble about equations and theories, that even he wasn't certain of yet? No, no. That won't do, he thought, shaking his head. Napoleon patted his shoulder and told him that you two will talk at some point, seeing as you'll be living in the same mansion for an undefined period of time.

Isaac thought it over when he returned to the library to continue his work. He even practiced some conversation starters on his pet hedgehog, Harry, when he fed him.

Later the same day, Isaac walked past the lounge on his way to get Rouge. From the corner of his eye, he spotted you in there, fiddling with a gramophone.

"Ah, that's—!"

"Wah!"

Isaac's outburst startled you, and you almost knocked the gramophone right off of its station. You held it in place while also holding your breath. Safe.

"I'm so sorry," Isaac said. "What were you doing with that?"

"Oh, this? I wanted to see if it played any music." You rubbed your arm sheepishly.

"I'm afraid it won't. I haven't fully reassembled it yet."

"Reassembled?" You echoed.

"I took it apart, yes. It's a hobby of mine, observing how it works and then putting it back together."

You looked at him stunned, and your silence worried him.

"W-what's wrong? Was it something I said?" Isaac’s shoulders tensed.

"I don't think...I've ever heard you talk so much before." You covered your mouth. "Oh no, that was rude. I meant, we haven't gotten a chance to really talk, you know..." You trailed.

"Q-quite right. Well, be sure, I'll have that gramophone fixed in no time," he said.

"Could I watch you while you do that?"

"Pardon?"

"Watch you work, I mean. If you're okay with it, of course."

Isaac wasn't used to having a willing audience. It made him nervous. He tugged at his hair in thought. What should he do? Napoleon's words came back to him. 'Words are a good start.' Yes, words! He passed that first obstacle. And he can do a little better than that. He left to get his tools from the library. When he returned, he found you with a tray of Rouge and sandwiches prepared.

"I'm no expert, but I believe it's not proper to work on an empty stomach," you said.

For the first time since you arrived at the mansion, Isaac smiled. It was a good look on him, you mused, gave him a boyish innocence.

The two of you sat on the floor, and Isaac went into focus-mode. He didn't mind your questions and even talked through his process with you. He sounded more confident, excited even. You helped organize his tools for him as he switched between them. As you looked at him working animatedly, you thought to yourself, he wasn’t so intimidating after all. He’s an introvert, like any other from your time period. But he was also brilliant, the way he carefully handled the project in front of him spoke of his meticulous nature. You looked forward to learning more about him.

Silently standing at the doorway was none other than Isaac’s friend and confidant smiling at the sight before him. Napoleon knew his friend had it in him, he just needed a little nudge in the right direction.

~*~

Back to Masterlist

#it's been a while!#happy to post again hehe #alby one-shots #memories of the mansion #ikevamp writing #ikevamp isaac #ikemen vampire isaac newton #isaac x reader #isaac x mc #isaac x you #pre-relationship #platonic #fluff #ikevamp fanfiction

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descenacre · 9 months

Text

On the way back to my ship, the previous sunset, I had discovered the location of a vital component to my Dolphin.

Today, I set out to retrieve my Gravity Jumper. As I set off, I was of an unusually cheerful humor, I felt my anxieties wash from my mind as I absorbed the beauty of this planet.

The Pikmin and I passed underneath a grand veil of thorns, a particularly prickly obstacle I had yet to learn to tackle. They were too sharp for me or the other Pikmin to break apart, which made them quite a frustrating impediment that led to nothing but costly detours.

But then, as if a response to my problem, on my way to the part, I discovered a new type of pikmin in distress!

Their Onion was trapped within a giant egg, surrounded by the same thorns! Yet it seemed as though these Pikmin might be unfazed by these bristles, as they naively whacked away at their roots to no effect.

I directed the Pikmin, and threw them to its Gall in order to focus their strength, and it was finally pulled down, freed from its captivity--although, unlike the other Onions I'd encountered, this one did not activate immediately upon my approach.

It instead retracted its legs, and promptly fell to the ground, dormant like a rock. Did it sense the incoming danger?

My confusion was interrupted by a grand, transparent beast unlike anything I had ever seen! Could this be what terrified the Onion?

It appeared as though it's form was part of another dimension entirely...in the spatial sense, that is, though it had otherworldly looks to match.

I attempted to knock it from the sky, but it floated, unconcerned, just out of reach of even my Yellow Pikmin.

It started to lash out, with a brightly colored whip like tongue! I feared for my newfound friends, but quickly discovered the beast could not handle their prickly nature, and spat them out immediately!

I quickly ordered the Pikmin to pull the beast from the sky, and despite it's incredible scale, the creature appeared almost weightless, near powerless to wrestle itself away from just a few Pikmin!

In its vulnerable state, I destroyed the egg sac that lay on its back, and the beast seemed to lose its tether to this world, fading into nothingness.

With the specter gone, the Thorned Onion quickly awakened, and I was finally able to take down the massive Thorned Gate and retrieve my Gravity Jumper.

What an exhilarating world! Even the most delicate of beasts have their bite.

#pikmin #fan pikmin #pikmin echo #pikmin boss

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visual-calc · 4 months

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Say, does quantum physics correlate with time traveling journey? Time traveling machine quite tempting to be made..

VISUAL CALCULUS [Heroic: Success] — Quantum physics actually has very little to do with our understanding of time, or the possibility of time travel. Most of the relevant theory falls under the theory of relativity, with a little bit of thermodynamics sprinkled in.

At its most basic level, relativity states that our reality exists in four dimensions: the three spatial dimensions we usually think of, and time, which is why we sometimes refer to it as "spacetime". Time is connected to the other three dimensions in a special way: the faster you move through space, the slower you move through time. Similarly, the closer you are to very massive object, such as a black hole or Elysium's core, the slower time passes for you.

This means that it is almost trivially easy to travel forward in time— just steal an aerostatic and fly very, very fast, or take a vacation at the bottom of the ocean. Either of these will cause you to experience less time than a friend who stays stationary or at sea level, so upon your return you will have effectively traveled to the future— by a few billionths of a second. A difference in elevation of a few thousand feet is not enough to create a significant difference in time, nor are there any means of transportation able to reach the necessary speeds to make this a practical means of time travel. But traveling forward is at least theoretically possible.

However, based on your prior interaction with Savoir Faire and Interfacing, I suspect that you are interested in traveling backwards, and I am afraid I need to be the bearer of bad news: it is simply impossible. The arrow of time only points forward. This is a law higher than you, or me, or Authority, or any of us. There is nothing we can do to reverse it, in any normal reality.

Physically, this is intrinsically linked to the idea of entropy, a measure of disorder. Entropy can never decrease— any process that is possible can only increase disorder, never decrease it. Reversing the flow of time and traveling backwards through it would allow you to increase order. For example, if you broke a glass, then traveled back to a time where the glass was whole again, you would be returning it to its ordered state, making backwards time travel impossible just from a physics standpoint. That doesn't even scratch the surface of the possible paradoxes of causality such travel would cause.

However. Not all of Elysium is part of our normal sense of reality. Entropy and entroponetic share the same root, after all— the Pale is entropy incarnate, disorder made manifest. Deep enough in the Pale, this disorder is great enough that our usual notions of time and space have no meaning. Reality ceases to have dimensions at all and the laws of physics break down.

The only way we can travel through the Pale at all is using Pale latitude compressors— devices that allow us to force the Pale into having dimensions again, taking on the shape of our familiar four-dimensional spacetime. No one has ever tried forcing the pale into being anything else. It's easy to see why— for transport of human beings, you want to make sure that they stay cocooned in a reality they can safely exist in. But, I do confess to having wondered whether it might be possible to use a Pale latitude compressor to impose a different type of reality on the Pale. If we're imposing dimensions anyway, perhaps it's possible to pick how they relate to each other such that traveling backwards in time is possible?

Please do note that I do not recommend that you try this, Turtle. Harry's brief encounter with the latitude compressor in Martinaise has more than convinced me that they are not to be trifled with. Additionally, there's no telling whether a set of dimensions that would allow time travel would also allow you to exist, or whether such a set would even exist at all. Most of us have come to like you quite a lot— I would hate to see you perish as a result of an entroponetic accident because you tried to time travel.

#skillsposting #ooc tags:#more high effort viscalcposting!#most of this is accurate up until the Pale stuff #there are a few conflicting theories about the nature of the arrow of time but the consensus is pretty firm that it only points forward #and most of the theories reduce to the second law of thermodynamics somehow #like I said on the falling turtle post: doing physics on elysium is a fucking Time #because the Pale is constantly just lurking in the background as an exception to any law of physics you might want to come up with #what do you MEAN there's no dimensions. that doesn't make any goddamn sense.#imagine my face when I realized pale latitude compressors might be able to allow faster than light travel #(by the same means as I described in the second to last paragraph- you might be able to pick dimensions where it's possible)#IDK if that actually works- I hate relativity and want to think about it as little as possible #<- I say as if my research isn't on something that's a direct consequence of general relativity. I am an unrepentant hypocrite.

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ruleofbirds · 2 months

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𝚍𝚎𝚟𝚕𝚘𝚐_𝟶𝟷.𝟷

Kia Ora, Te Ao!

Hello, World! It's official - Robbie has a tumblr now. Absolutely unfathomable. Honestly, it's mostly because it was this or Wordpress (or a more obscure indie dev forum) and this seemed the most accessible and quirky. I'm sure this won't lead to another awful endless scrolling habit. Any advice for the visual side of things is warmly received! I want this blog to be a fun part of the week, because a lot of fun will be had developing RoB. Just realised that acronym happens to be my name. Could be worse.

Okay! Now that the initial ramble into the void is out of the way, it's time to get into the c o n c e p t.

This tumblr is a devlog for my NZ ecosystem simulator currently titled "rule of birds", which I will be working on for the next 8 weeks as part of Blackbird Foundation's "Protostars" program. This means a weekly check-in with the other creatives in the program, the organizers at Blackbird, and a post for all of you here.

I'm breaking this week's post into 3 sections just to cover the bases;

01.1 -a bit about my creative practice and how it led to this project

01.2 -a discussion of "flocking" in programming (using p5.js)

01.3 -a discussion of NZ natural history

So here's the intro post, where I ramble about myself for a sec.

So! basically, I specialize in spatial design, I love working with anything nature-related, and I want to make a video game.

Lately I've been on a tangent based around art in NZ's cultural context - the design principles behind whakairo (Maori woodcarving) and how their composition conveys meaning, how histories of spirituality, tribal and colonial relations affected design, and my own art interpreting my natural surroundings with photography and charcoal drawing. I can neither confirm nor deny whether there will be an art zine compiling a wee bit of this work on the community table at the Whanganui Zinefest this Saturday.

That tangent branched off into a focus on natural history that's the keystone of rule of birds. My motivation for focusing on an ecosystem simulator is to articulate a basis for the sort of games I want to come out of Aotearoa. The sim will be the proof of concept - and I suppose this blog will be the manifesto.

I feel like there's a massive demand for games exploring NZ history - like, imagine a big-budget maori-led release set in pre-colonial time, with all the unique aspects of survival, resource management and day to day activity that involved - or an assassin's creed type action game based during the time of Te Kooti. It goes unsaid that Kupe is one of the best parts of Sid Meier's Civilization VI - iykyk.

youtube

What I think separates a good game from a great one is how alive the virtual world feels - rather than being led through an a-to-b progression of events presented in the same visual style I've seen countless times before, if the world can react in a dynamic way, and the details in the background are crafted to feel organic and immersive, I'm going to want to stop and wander off the beaten track that an objective marker may be pointing me towards.

The last game that caught my attention in this way - and coincidentally the one that made me want to put my coding knowledge to the test with gamedev - was, of course, Rain World. To everyone who knows me, I'm sure you're surprised I've made it three paragraphs without bringing this game up. I'm not going to go into too much detail here, because there is *a lot*, but key points are you are one creature among many scavenging for food in a brutal biomechanical ecosystem, hibernating between cycles of cataclysmic rain, and the game plays like basically nothing else due to how the coded behaviour of every entity in the world follows its own logic that has much more to do with its own survival than the experience of you as a player.

Here's a nice little illustration of the physics behind a movement-sensing tentacle monster, to give a sort of discrete example - but the creatures that act according to behavioural karma systems and the dynamics of how the different lizards scuffle and coordinate with each other is worth looking into too, if this is your thing.

(Source: GDC, Curious Archive)

Now, I really want to jump into some of this behavioural coding stuff, so I'm just going to move on to collecting things for the next post - hope this has been an interesting read! if you somehow found this page in your tumblr algorithm, welcome! I'll also be posting bits on the instagram page @robbiek_devlogs and you can check out my other work on my main insta @robbiek_art

Hei kōnā mai,

Robbie K

Next up: simulation in coding, natural history research post #1

Next week: Adventures in Godot Engine!

#natural history #programming #indiedev #birds #gamedev #devlog #Youtube

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delirious-donna · 2 years

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NSFW Alphabet Headcanons [Langris Vaude]

an: lately I have become a little obsessed with Langris Vaude, a slow process considering how much I used to detest him, but here we are. Now I thirst for the haughty man. I know I am not alone in my opinions, so this is for me and others that yearn for the spatial mage.

p.s. apologies for how long this turned out, I simply could not control myself! ^^

pairing: Langris Vaude x female reader

warnings: too many to mention, nothing is super kinky but continue with ease

Masterlist

A - Aftercare

It took Langris a hot minute to work out what this actually meant. Not accustomed to the softer moments in life, he had frowned in confusion as you forced him to lay back and relax.

What was the issue?

He had more than ensured your pleasure, and he too had found his release, why would he linger on the bed when there were other things to be done?

Slowly, he found that the quiet moments after what had transpired were sweeter than candy. Lost within the sensation of your fingers brushing into his chestnut hair, the rhythmical rise and fall of your chest and the melodic tunes you would hum.

"This is aftercare then?" he asked in a timid voice so unlike his own.

"Mmm, yeah. Nice isn't it?"

He was silent for the longest moment before rolling with you to reverse your positions.

"Let me return the favour, my love," he cooes.

Langris kneads at your tense shoulders, letting his hands skim down your bare skin in utter reverence as he kisses the top of your head. He wouldn't be skipping this ever again.

B - Body Part

You'd have to fight him - playfully - to discover his answer, but if truth be told, he likes his chest.

He knows that his strength is rather unassuming to most, often being dismissed for possessing only raw magical strength and not the physical type that Asta is famed for. Yet, under his magic knight's uniform lies defined muscles and corded strength, always ready at a moment's notice.

Langris has no wish to become as bulky as Asta, he finds it rather crass as to how thick the grey-haired boy's torso has become of late, but he will continue to train to maintain the lithe definition he does have.

Other than the physical appearance of his chest, there is another, far softer reason as to why he favours this part of his body. Within said chest beats a heart that had never known love, his family might have favoured him over Finral but he was a show pony, not a loved child.

Langris didn't know what it felt to be loved or to love until he met you. It was a turbulent journey, and it was not without some tears being shed. The armour around his heart crumbled into a rusty mess when he finally realised that to love, he has to allow himself to be vulnerable from time to time.

It was worth it, you were worth it and he would be damned if he would give it up after the battle he had fought to find it.

Yes, Langris likes his chest and the heart that resides within.

As for you, it's almost an impossible decision. You are everything he ever wanted but didn't know he needed. Langris may not be the most verbal with his affection, but if pushed he'd pick your hands.

He likes how they slip into his own when you know no one else is around, fingers interlocking and a thumb stroking against his palm. He adores that your hands seek him out in the night, wrapping around his bicep as you curl into him.

Your hands express your love and affection, the softness of your touch on his skin enough to chip away the icy mask that he wears to protect himself.

C - Cum

Langris was a flustered mess the very first time you made him cum. His face was so pretty and pink as he fought to keep his gaze away from your own, his breathing rapid and his hands clenched into the white sheets beneath him.

A simple handjob and he had spurted his sticky seed in record time as if he were some mere horny teenager. You knew he was embarrassed, could sense it with how he acted now and it tugged your heart. He didn't realise how empowering it felt to be able to bring his release so easily.

Langris was startled when you dipped a finger in his creamy essence, treating it as if it were paint and his skin the canvas. You swept it over the dips of the prominent 'v' that carved out his hips and pelvis, fingerpainting to your heart's content.

"Wh-what are you doing?" he asked on a hissed breath.

Finally, you met his crystalline eyes. Smiling sweetly you placed your messy fingers into your mouth and made a show of sucking them clean. It was arousing to watch the colours deepen, the way his cock jerked and hardened once more.

"Tasting you," you admit.

Langris was far from done with you after that display and remark.

He prefers to paint your insides than decorating your body but he has been known to pull out for you to swallow his load, but only if you ask very sweetly.

His cum tastes bitter but not unpleasant, almost like extremely rich dark chocolate. As for volume, well, there is enough to make several paintings if you wish.

In return, Langris enjoyed eating you out far more than he had anticipated. The sometimes haughty noble is not immune to becoming pussy drunk, lapping at your slick centre until his mouth and chin are shiny with your essence.

His eyes glazed and unfocused when you finally managed to pull him by the hair away from your trembling cunt. The simple act of watching him licking at his lips is enough to make you keen for him. Langris wastes not a drop of what you spill, he has never tasted something so potent and intoxicating.

D - Dirty Secret

Langris will deny it to the ends of the earth, but he enjoys wearing your panties.

Shocked?

I'm not surprised, no one was more shocked than Langris himself.

He didn't pull them on through any overwhelming urge that came to his mind, it was the result of a lost bet that forced the silky shorts to adorn his beautiful hips.

Langris was confident that he would win the bet and that he would never have the indignity of wearing a female's underwear, but he had been wrong.

He was a flustered mess as he left for the day, only the two of you in the knowledge of what lay beneath his pants. You tried to suppress the giggles, knowing that he would likely throw a hissy fit if he thought you were mocking him, but he was too dang cute.

You had to admit that he looked kinda hot in your silkiest pair of black shorts. You had chosen these especially as you did not think he would take well to wearing a barely concealing thong. His bits would never remain inside!

His lightly tanned skin was accentuated by the midnight black silk, the lace trim around the legs gave an inviting allure and you almost crawled to him by the door. Desperate to unbuckle his belt and pull any the layers to find the smooth material so you could bury your face in it, but you didn't.

Langris saw the look in your eye, he remembered it all day long and slowly he started to enjoy the feel of something so decadent against his crotch. He liked it far more than he anticipated.

He won't tell you this, and you will never tell him that you cheated in your bet... how naughty!

E - Experienced

You had thought Langris to be a virgin when you got together, but it turns out that he had lost his innocence in one of the very few times he had gotten drunk. He isn't proud of it, in fact, for a long time he tried to pretend it had not happened at all. Langris didn't remember what the girl looked like, let alone her name and it prickled him.

Certainly, you had no experience to speak of, and the one drunken time for Langris didn't amount to anything. That meant that you were to experience a lot of new things together.

Langris was certainly a fast learner. Within no time at all, it felt like he had a wealth of experience under his belt and you were still floundering like a shy little flower. He took your meek embarrassment in his stride, secretly enjoying how bashful you became when he whispered naughty suggestions in your ear.

"Shall I bend you over my desk, my love? I have a free hour or two. We could see how many times I can make you cum on my fingers before you are whimpering for me to fill you up properly."

Where had your inexperienced lover gone? That boy was dead and buried. The man that replaced him was confident in his ability and assured of his technique within the blink of an eye.

Langris Vaude was certainly a prodigy in many disciplines.

F - Favourite Position

Call him old-fashioned, but what is wrong with missionary?

Langris likes that he can kiss you deeply whilst he plunders your cunt, growling as you bite at his lower lip and he ruts himself harshly in reply.

He can brace his weight on one wrist or forearm as the other pinches lazily at your stiffened nipples, lowering his mouth to suckle the peak until you are yanking on his hair.

In this position, he can feel your thighs winding around his hips and the bucking over your body meeting him stroke for stroke. You feed him that extra friction that is enough to make him want to leave pretty marks on your neck - his mark.

Langris knows when your release is close, your hands sliding to his back where your nails dig into his flesh hard enough to leave thin red streaks. That hint of pain is blissful, knowing that you are losing the battle against your animalistic instincts and he isn't far behind.

He'll shift back on the bed, moving to his knees as he drags you closer to him. Pressing your thighs against his shoulders as his cock reaches new depths and drags deliciously against your g-spot with every precise swing of his hips.

Yeah, this is his favourite position, nothing else comes quite as close as this does.

G - Goofy

I'm sorry, this is Langris Vaude we are talking about. He barely knows what the word goofy means. If you wanted this in a partner then you were with the wrong brother.

He'll listen to your pathetic attempts at jokes, smiling kindly but his eyes are weary. The man loves you more than anything in this world, but he is never going to be the type to play practical jokes or burst into fits of uncontrollable laughter. It's just not in his nature.

Having said that, he does like to tease. He isn't above tickling you until you are crying for mercy, of which, he has very little. Langris will giddily straddle your waist to hold you down and tickle your ribs, neck, stomach and every other part he can reach until you are sobbing with giggling tears.

This kind of goofy, he can get behind, but it will always be behind closed doors. He doesn't wish for others to see that he possesses this side of him.

H - Hair

Tousled golden brown hair adorns his head, soft and gently curling around the edges of his face. Langris keeps his hair well-trimmed, believing it to be unbecoming of a young man to let it get too long. His shampoo smells faintly of jasmine, you'd think it would be a little feminine but on Langris, it really compliments him - balancing out the masculine elements of his appearance and personality.

Light smatterings of hair grace his pectorals, he used to shave it off until you insisted he stop. You love running your dainty fingers through the hair, your nails grazing his nipples quite on purpose as you do. He'll growl as a warning, but whether you choose to heed the warning, is entirely dependent on your mood.

His happy trail starts not far above where his sleeping pants would rest, the hair is a little denser here and especially as it continues down to join the short curls that nestle around the base of his dick.

The carpet surely matches the drapes, the colour is exactly the same no matter which part of his body you admire with your lustful gaze. Langris keeps his private area short and well maintained, but your nose still nestles against the coarse hair when you've managed to work his cock fully down your throat.

I - Intimacy

It took some time for intimacy to be the norm in your relationship, Langris simply did not know how to offer it, having received none himself.

Much like when he discovered what aftercare meant, he slowly allowed himself to ease into the sensation of letting someone close to his heart.

The whole thing came with soul-soaring highs and achingly awful lows.

Langris had not anticipated that loving someone intimately would bring with it such terrible fears. Thoughts of losing you in some way, of being hurt or falling out of love with him haunted his dreams more than he would care to admit.

Intimacy was a double-edged sword, capable of bringing ecstasy and at the same time being able to bring him to his knees in agony. Despite this, he wouldn't give it up for anything in the world, he only wished he had found you sooner. Perhaps your good influence on him would have meant mending of relationships far sooner than had transpired.

The majority of your shared intimacy is still hidden behind closed doors but on occasion, and when Langris is feeling especially proud of you, he will openly kiss your temple. He might even indulge in trailing his fingers with yours for a moment, much to the bewilderment of his squadmates.

Your relationship is no secret, but his softer side certainly is.

J - Jerk Off

This happens very rarely. There have been only a handful of times when he has been parted from you long enough to warrant him fisting his straining cock.

If he were to find himself on such a mission where you had not seen each other in days, then it would likely be first thing in the morning that he would indulge.

Awakening to find his morning erection practically waving at him beneath the bedsheets, his skin sensitive from everything that dares to touch him and his mind replaying the lewd dreams of you from the night.

Langris grasps the base of his dick, hissing through his teeth at the initial contact, he won't last long, he knows that much. Screwing his eyes shut and chin tilting his head back to face the ceiling as he tries his best to imagine it is your hand around him. The difference in size and strength of grips should be enough to wipe away his foolish illusion but Langris is so headstrong that the image of you remains clear.

He'd much rather it was you doing this, your dainty hand pumping his length, spreading his precum over his heated flesh in between kitten licks from your naughty tongue.

Only a few strokes to this imagery are enough for him to relieve the pressure in his abdomen and balls. Completely messing up the sheets but hoping he can slip them into the laundry without question.

Langris really cannot wait to get back home to you.

K - Kink

Don't tell anyone, Langris will not be impressed if you dared disclose this information to anyone - he means it - tell no one.

Langris is a sucker for praise.

You discovered it completely by accident. Laying back in Langris's bed, thighs spread wide and pinned down by his strong hands, his face was entirely buried in your cunt.

Your fingers speared into his lush hair, gripping at the roots as you spoke in broken moans;

"Oh gods, baby. You're making me feel so good."

He stilled for a second before his sparkling eyes lifted to lock with your own. You visibly watched the pink stain deepen on his cheeks, his tongue flickered against your clit and you whimpered.

Waiting until he was back to tasting your velvet lower lips, you spoke once more and carefully watched his reaction.

"Baby, you're such a good boy. So amazing at eating me out."

He groaned in his throat, eyes rolling to white as his hips rutted against the mattress. Langris was lost to his actions, fucking himself whilst he devoured you like a man possessed.

Let's just say that you know how to pull his strings, how to gently manipulate him into giving you exactly what you want.

"Whose your handsome best boy?"

L - Location

Again, Langris is fairly traditional with his preference. He likes to make love or fuck like feral beasts, depending on his mood, in the safety of your shared bed.

The options were almost limitless, he could contort your limbs into a variety of positions or simply choose to indulge in straight vanilla sex.

However, he has become rather fond of taking you in his office. It seems so naughty and unprofessional of him, seeing you bent at the waist with your dress simply a puddle of cloth only covering your middle. Your beautiful tits pressed into the smooth oak of his desk, both your arms in his grip as he slams into your fluttering cunt.

The sound of skin slapping is lewd and delicious as he reminds you to be quiet, knowing that you will fail sooner or later and he will have to make you suck on his fingers to dull your noises.

He loses himself in the sight of his cock plunging into your welcoming warmth, his balls smacking against your clit with every precise thrust and the jiggle of your ass cheeks as the clapping noise increases with each gush of essence that crashes against his crotch.

Yeah, Langris would take in his office at every opportunity afforded to him.

M - Motivation

There are times when work has to come first, you know this well and you understand, you do, but it's so difficult when it is keeping you from the tender touch of your handsome man.

Langris can become easily absorbed into his work, often not noticing how late he has stayed locked away in his office - he locks it knowing you'll try to distract him if he doesn't. He loves you dearly, but he feels there is still a lot he needs to prove.

By the time he slumps into your bedroom, dark rings under his eyes and shoulders slouched from exhaustion, you know you'd have to work a miracle to get him in the mood.

You've planned for this, Langris finds the room bathed in the soft glow of candlelight and you are draped on the bed in your finest lingerie. Silk adorns your torso from neckline to midthigh, the golden shimmer catching beautifully in the glow.

"My love, I am so very tired," his plea is genuine and there is strain around his eyes from denying you.

"I know baby, come here. Let me take care of you."

You pat the bed and watch as he slowly undresses to leave his uniform in a trail from the door to the bed - very unlike him. He hums his appreciation as he truly looks over your enticing lingerie, wishing he wasn't so damn tired.

Isn't it amazing how reinvigorating a sensual massage, a willing ear to listen to his woes and a loving hand to caress all his favoured areas can be? Langris is swept into the care you pile on him so generously.

You know in your heart that if he really was too tired, you weren't going to force the issue, this had been a lovely evening and you had no desire to spoil it with an argument. Slipping from the bed so you can change into his shirt for the night, he catches your wrist by surprise.

"Ride me, my love," he pleads.

"We don't have to, I know you're tired..."

Langris pulls you to him, lips searing against your own before he parts your mouths.

"I have not the energy to ravish you as I'd like, but I'd love to watch you fuck yourself on my cock."

Well, you don't need asking twice...

N - No

Langris, despite seeming rather uptight to most, is fairly open to trying new things in the bedroom. He feels the safest when experiencing activities with you - his trust runs soul deep.

However, there are a few things that are a straight 'no' and those are never going to change. Namely, anything that would cause you or him harm or pain. A spank on the ass, hair pulling, nails raking into flesh or hard bites are the limit to his tolerance for pain in the bedroom. Anything beyond that is a 'no'.

The same goes for anything too risky; he might love taking you in his office but he is not about to indulge in initiating intimate relations in a place where you are likely to be discovered, that would be foolish. The very thought of someone else seeing your body in the throes of passion is enough to boil his blood and make him see red. You are his and his alone, and in the same regard, he is yours.

Langris does not share, not now and not ever.

O - Oral

Langris is a big fan, and will often put off the main event in favour of absolutely losing himself in the feel and taste of your core. He will push you well on the way to extreme overstimulation as he practically refuses to detach from your puffy clit and swollen lips.

Drinking in your whimpers much in the same way he drinks in your delicious nectar, Langris can cum entirely untouched in this situation. Driving his hips further into the yielding mattress as you squeeze the life out of his head.

The man has serious game when it comes to oral skills, perhaps having a razor-sharp tongue helped him in this regard and in honesty it doesn't much matter.

He knows exactly when to tease your clit, when to slide his velvet tongue along your slit, how firmly to press his nose against your hood and when to prod at your aching hole.

His record is one straight hour spent between your slick thighs, and he would have continued if he wasn't concerned you would pass out from dehydration.

As for receiving, it is sometimes the best part of waking up. You were his very own alarm clock, often waking before him - which was saying something considering how early he wakes - to slide between the sheets and feast on his flesh.

The first moan out of his mouth tells you he is awake, uncovering your hidden form so he can watch exactly what you are doing. Cupping his sensitive balls as you slobber all over his dick, eyes wet from the tears of forcing him further and further down your throat. Muscles constricting to the point that his hips are jerking and he's cursing under his breath.

Langris won't last much longer, the early morning erection already close to painful and demanding release. Along with the sight of your fluttering lashes and tears tracking your cheeks, it's more than enough to force his orgasm - of which you collect every drop on your tongue, showing it to him before swallowing and opening your now empty mouth.

"Fuck, you're gonna kill me at this rate, my love."

P- Pace

Much depends on his mood, either is good at the right moment. Langris also likes to switch things up mid fuck, going from slow and languid strokes that ensure he grazes every sensitive spot in your clenching cunt to fast rough thrusts that make your toes curl and your nails dig into his shoulders.

He can play you like a damn fiddle when he wants, long having learned what every reaction meant and using different techniques to keep you on your toes.

You can be lost in his loving gaze, running your fingers softly through his hair as you reach up to peck at his parted lips one second and the next he has flipped you onto your stomach and is fucking into you like he is deep in mating season.

Don't ever think you truly know what is going through his head, especially when he is intoxicated by your nearness.

Q - Quickie

Langris really enjoys a quickie, it's an excellent way to feel connected to you in the times when work and evil schemes rear their ugly head.

Those moments when you are going about simple tasks like taking off your make-up or folding your clothes neatly away, the urge to pin you against the nearest wall is often irresistible.

If you could see the fiery blue flames that dance within his eyes, it would at least give you a hint as to what is to come, but he treats you like a predator stalking prey.

Pouncing when you least suspect it. Bruising kisses pressed to your lips as he rips away the layers keeping him from your bare skin, only every removing enough to allow him the much-needed access for scratching this insufferable itch.

You love when he is like this, the primal need driving him to consume you completely. It won't take long, the pace will be brutal and there will be little to no preamble but you find these moments raw and so real.

It reinforces the confidence that needs you just as much as you need him.

R - Risk

Langris is fairly risk-averse. He doesn't see any pleasure in putting you or him in harm's way. There would be no amount of pleasure in the world that could coax him into taking such frivolous and dangerous risks.

He wants you safe at all times.

Even when it comes to birth control, he is extremely diligent. He knows your cycle, probably better than you do, and he always has protection on hand for the times you forget to take your birth control pill. He is aware you are a little scatterbrained with such matters, and although he would much prefer to fuck you raw, the condoms are there for the times you do forget.

S - Stamina

On a day off, Langris is a solid 11/10.

He could probably go from dawn until dusk with the appropriate rest breaks scattered throughout - he could not survive on simply eating out your pussy - and water, lots of it would be required for such sessions.

These days are rare, although they do occur. As much as you enjoy being swept into carnal pleasure for an entire day, you would much rather enjoy his company in less lustful ways too. He is extremely witty when in the right mood, and you love to hear his take on current affairs over lazy mornings in bed. He has even been known to read the paper to you, adding his own spin on the events of the previous day much to your quiet amusement and giggles.

On a work day then he is probably closer to 6/10. He gives it his all and will most likely have enough energy to go at least twice before flopping back on the bed with his eyes shut and his chest rapidly rising and falling.

"My love, please tell me you have had enough?"

Can anyone truly have enough of Langris Vaude?

T - Toys

Toys are not something that is prevalent, therefore not much consideration has been given to their usage in the bedroom.

Langris would likely find the idea of introducing toys into the lovemaking deeply wounding. Isn’t he enough for you? He’d huff and puff at the thought of it, full-on pouting lower lip and refusing to meet your eye.

Heaven forbid that he discovers how toys could be used to drive you to the brink of desperation. Langris would likely smirk as he presses the tiny bullet vibrator to your clit, watching your legs tremble and shake from the vibrations entering your body.

“You asked for this, my love.”

U - Unfair

Langris can be extremely unfair when the mood strikes him. There is a slight sadist streak that stems from his upbringing and he hasn’t managed to shake all of it away. He might choose to let out his frustrations by toying with the idea of turning you into a whimpering boneless mess.

He’ll become absorbed in bringing you to the very precipice of orgasm, your hips stuttering and nails scrabbling against the bedsheets, only to dial it back down. The first few times are annoying but fun, after that you are full-on crying for him to let you cum. The pressure is too great, you might implode on the bed if he doesn’t push you over that final cliff edge.

He chuckles darkly, narrating his entire process as his slender fingers dip between your folds, spreading your slick and teasing your hole with short thrusts.

“You want to cum, my love?” Langris sounds so haughty, tearing his lips away from your quivering and tortured nipples to speak.

You can only nod fervently, noises of garbled assent slipping from your lips.

“Beg me.”

And you do. Langris can suffer from a slight God complex from time to time, and this is one of them. He is so unfair but always makes up for it on the other side. Aftercare is now one of his specialities and when he has been this cruel, he spoils you rotten with his actions and affection.

V - Volume

It’s rather a surprise how verbal Langris is mid-coitus. You hadn’t pegged him for being much of a talker, but you can’t help but be turned on by the lewd whispers in your ear.

“You like that? You like my cock buried in your cunt, stretching you open?”

You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve damn near lost consciousness from the utter filth that he paints with his words. He’d probably make a fantastic erotic fiction writer, not that he ever would dare such a sinful hobby - most unbecoming.

Other than his words, he grunts, groans and growls. He is not one for shying away from letting you know exactly how deeply your actions are affecting him.

Pulling him in for a kiss by yanking on his belt? He is growling like a grizzly bear before his mouth slants over yours.

Waking him with your special wake-up call? He is groaning as he watches inch by delicious inch disappear into your throat.

Straddling his lap to impale yourself on his eager cock? He is grunting as your slow descent continues until you are fully sheathing his length.

Langris is rarely silent in these heated moments, and every little word or noise fills your soul to the brim with love for your beloved man.

W - Wild Card

The closest Langris ever came to losing his damn mind and fucking you in a place where discovery would have been likely was last year at a party hosted by the Black Bulls.

His fractious relationship with his brother, Finral, is healing slowly and with your continued reassurances that you would be by his side the entire time, he agreed to attend.

You liked Finral, you could see how much effort he was putting into building the bridges between himself and Langris, as well as how sweet he was to you. He had a partner of his own, and the two of you always got along well.

The party was in full swing with more than enough crazy antics to write a book about. Langris was nursing the same drink he had been holding an hour ago whilst you might have indulged in a little more than was sensible.

Pulled to your feet by Finral’s girlfriend, you both make your way to the small area set up as a dance floor. It’s innocent at first, girly shrieking as you both jump around with Noelle and Mimosa, but it changes quickly.

The cousins flounce off to find Asta, leaving just the two of you remaining as the music changes to something with a heavier beat. One thing leads to another you find yourself entwined with the girl, hips rolling in tandem and hands ghosting down sides and over stomachs.

One look over at your man and you almost moan aloud. The brothers look feral, tension radiating around them and you are sure it is not from an argument. Their respective eyes find their partners and for a few more minutes you decide to continue the show.

Finral snaps first, quick steps towards you as he pulls his girl away to goodness knows where, leaving you alone and seeking out Langris. You find him standing in a shadowy recess, he crooks a finger and you practically run to him.

His fingers tangle in your hair, baring your throat with a harsh pull on your silken strands. His scorching mouth licks a path from your throat to your mouth, insistent lips bruising against your own and teeth nipping at your kiss swollen lips.

Your hands are pawing at his chest, inching under the tight fit of his shirt and eliminating all space between your bodies.

Langris finds the strength to stop this in its tracks before he is fucking you for all to see. He doesn’t want that, doesn’t wish to share you. The dancing with Finral’s girl was the very limit to his allowances and he hadn’t expected to be quite so affected, and it seemed his brother was much in the same boat.

Arriving home was quite the experience but it’s a secret Langris wants to keep between you two.

Ask nicely enough and the story might be told…

X - X-Ray

Oh my, you walk in on Langris exiting the shower. The towel loosely tucked around his hips happens to fall away at the very moment you close the door. What an eyeful, let’s drink in this absolute treat of a male.

Golden brown hair damp and tousled clings to his handsome face. His jaw is sharp, angular with defined cheekbones that many a girl would kill for. His aquamarine eyes lock with yours as you trail his impressive frame with a hungry gaze. His lips tilt into a knowing smirk, chin lifting in what you might think to be haughty defiance, but you know him better than that, he is teasing you for looking so brazenly.

His skin is very lightly tanned with a faint sprinkling of freckles gracing his shoulders. His torso is lithe but well-defined. Muscles packed onto his slim frame in a way that makes his strength entirely unassuming. Long slender fingers wiggle as you continue to venture down, almost dancing as if to remind you of the last time he had used the digits on your body.

His stomach dips slowly, unfazed by your tour of him and you eye his happy trail that you adore so much. He must be happy to see you, his generous cock lengthening before your eyes, as if by magic. His length is impressive, more than enough to kiss your cervix and with an especially girthy base that means you never truly get used to his size. There is always a slight burn to accommodate him fully, but you love it, love the stretch.

His legs are slim as are his hips, and although he is face on you can well imagine his cute little tush. Knew that he is likely clenching his cheeks as you bite your lip and finally pad towards him in anticipation.

What a man…

Y - Yearning

Langris is always yearning, although you might not even know it. Coming from nobility he has long since mastered the art of entirely masking his emotions behind a veil of indifference.

He might let you in on his little secret, whispering in your ear as you pass each other in the hallway. Tells you just how adorable he finds your new knee-high socks and that he can’t wait to learn how they feel next to his ears. You’ll squirm as people pass the two of you, not knowing that the vice-captain of the Golden Dawn is turning your panties damp with his words.

Then again, he might not tell you how turned on he is whenever you are near him. It’s his little secret, one that brings that smug smile to his lips. To keep it under wraps means he has to keep his hands and his thoughts to himself at least some of the time, it’s hard when he is literally aching for you. Everything below the waist feels far too tight and restrictive.

If he didn’t take his duties as seriously as he does then he would likely be found twisting the sheets with you as often as he could.

Langris always wants to be buried in your warmth, but realistically, he knows this is impossible. He’ll settle for taking you in any free moments he has.

Z - Zzz

Langris needs his sleep, he cannot function on too little of it and he has a rather strict sleep schedule that he rarely deviates from.

Before he met you, he used the extra hours in the morning for exercise, reading and catching up with paperwork. Now he is more likely to be found reading the paper to you as you snuggle against his side or fucking you absolutely senseless before he has to get ready for work.

The man does not believe in naps, they are a waste of his time and he tsks every time he finds you nestled in the sheets during the day. You best believe he is gonna spank your ass to wake you up, and he wonders if you specifically wear your cutest pink panties for this very reason.

Langris is in bed by 11pm every night. He doesn’t force you to bed at the same time, he knows you often read much later into the night but he will pout from his side of the bed if you choose to read in the chair. His eyes, already heavy from the sleep that is fast approaching, blink at you slowly. A hand slips free of the comforter to make adorable grasping motions and his bottom lip juts out.

You roll your eyes, but you know you’ll be climbing into bed with him, how could you say no to the soft vulnerable side of Langris? His head on your lap, he almost purrs his contentment moments before he is fast asleep.

“Sweet dreams handsome, I love you.”

#delirious writes #langris #langris vaude #black clover langris #langris headcanons #black clover headcanons #black clover smut #langris smut #langris x reader

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