#i love talking to strangers bc you never know if this little conversation will be the one that lives with you forever

[cactustreesmotel]

went skating again (as is weekly tradition) and when we were packing up and the hockey guys were coming in i got into a little conversation with one of them...still bouncing from the human interaction

[grippingbeskar]

small favours

— joel miller x fem!reader

— warnings: explicit content minors dni, smutttt, dirty talk, very minimal plot sorry not sorry, swearing, needles, mention of injuries/cuts

— a/n: happy tlou release week!! this is set in jackson between the first and second game, i wrote the first part before i saw the show but just imagine with me okay. and it’s literally just bc i saw joel in that denim shirt and went yeah… i wanna fuck him in that. lmao. also dedicated to @everybirdfellsilent because we have been waiting for this show for so long and it’s finally here and oaoxosoxosox. wow.

You hadn’t asked for much.

It was a simple fix, you were sure of it. Yes, you don’t know anything about how to fix hinges, nor do you have any clue about how you broke it in the first place. Either way, it’s just a few screws and a metal piece, so was it really that hard to find five minutes to fix it?

Leading another one of the horses into the stable, you pointedly step over the gate that now lays on the floor, too heavy for you to move it. The horse tramples it, of course, which is why you had asked for someone to come and fix it before the horses were brought back in from patrol. Clearly, no one gave a shit about your question, but you know they’d all be the first to complain if it was their horse that got out through a broken gate.

It was late now, anyways. Too late for you to get anyone out, and even with the safety of Jackson’s walls keeping you blocked off from the outside world, being out at night still freaked you. When you finally got the horse in your hand settled and fed, you promptly sat yourself on the floor of the stable. Without the front gate, it wasn’t safe to leave the horses alone. With your luck, they’d get spooked and run all the way through town, and the last thing you needed was more reason for the people in here to look at you.

It wasn’t that you weren’t liked— you just kept to yourself. This life was hard enough as it is, and you didn’t see the point in making friends when in five years this place would probably be full of strangers. People die every day out here, you knew that too well. You wanted to save yourself the heartache wherever you could.

All that anti social behaviour certainly didn’t win you any favours though— hence the still broken door. You loved it— you were good with horses, having lived in a farm before the outbreak, so you decided to volunteer to help in the stables, but it was hard work sometimes. It kept you busy enough, though, and horses never wanted to make conversation, so… win-win.

There was only one problem with working in here. Truthfully, it wasn’t so much as a problem and more of a chronic condition. At least, that’s the way it felt every time Joel Miller made some kind of appearance. Most people just left the horses tied up out front for you to take care of, but Joel seemed to enjoy the peace the stable provided— that and you never talked much, which seemed to work for him. On the days he’d come back from patrol, the two of you would share a few hushed conversations as you worked and he hid from the rest of Jackson, and then you’d fall into a comfortable silence, sometimes for hours at a time.

Weeks had passed like this, and every single day you got a little bit more interested in who the man really was, other than his clear infatuation with his horse. Right when he came in would be the time you talked the most, after about forty minutes it would get too busy and you’d work until the sun set. But those forty minutes started to stretch a little longer, and he seemed to gain interest in you, too. Maybe you were grasping at straws, but hearing Joel’s low voice rumble a few more words every time he spoke to you was doing wonders for your self esteem, and even you couldn’t deny the way your face warmed when he smiled at you.

“Hey, you still— damn. What happened here?” Joel calls from the gaping hole that is the stable door, and only because it’s his voice calling you do you look up.

“It’s been broken all day. I asked someone to fix it, but…” You shrug, sighing and leaning your head back on the small gate that was the only thing holding the horse behind you from leaping out down the main street. “I guess they had other shit to do. I can’t move it on my own.”

Joel considers you for a second, how your frame is backed against the gate, conveniently placed at the closest point to the open door. Then, he looks back to the door on the ground, and back up to you. He smirks.

“So you were plannin’ on sitting in here all night?” The weight of the day makes your shoulders slump forward, and for the first time you really consider your plan. “You gonna body check a horse when he makes a run for it?”

“Okay, it was a dumb plan. But, it’s that or let them all out and get stuck cleaning up the bar floor or something.” He smiles again, the setting sun behind him washing over his shoulders in a pretty orange colour. A tilt of his head in your direction has you standing up, taking the lead of his horse that he offers to you.

“You take him, I’ll go get my tools. Fix it up before sun down.” Before you can protest or tell him he doesn’t have to, he’s walking off to the right up the hill where his house sits.

You’d always been a bit jealous of the spot his house is. It’s far away enough from everyone that you get some real privacy, but close to the stables if you need a quick exit. He had a porch, too. One you spent a little too much of your time staring at during your work hours, when he spent his off days strumming a guitar right in your line of sight. He was just… peaceful to observe. He brought a calm to you that no one else seemed to be able to do, almost enough that you could forget about the world outside and just exist in that little bubble for a while.

You lead Joel’s horse inside, hearing it trample the door again, and hang up his saddle next to the stable. Joels horse is much like him— quiet unless provoked. You found it out the hard way when you first led it in with a routinely aggressive horse, thinking it’s demeanour would calm him down. The next morning you woke up to two very angry horses and a half bent gate of steel.

“Saved you your favourite spot.” You say to his horse, Old Beardy. You never asked how Joel picked the name, but for some reason it worked so well— at least, he was definitely older than most. “See? He’s right up there.”

The stable at the back was angled just right so that the small window at the height of a horses head pointed directly towards Joel’s porch. Not close enough to see anything other than the outside, but enough that you know it’s there. You don’t come in here often, Joel always taking his own horse in, but when you do you can’t help but notice the instant calming effect it has on Beardy— you might have more in common with this horse than half the people in Jackson.

When you find your way back to the front, Joel’s footsteps are trudging back down the hill. You’ll be fairly useless as anything other than company while he fixes the door, but you can’t seem to stop your heart from racing a million miles a minute as he gets closer and closer. Yes, he makes you forget about everything on the outside, but that’s mainly due to how insane he drives you. All those conversations in the stables and too long looks in town are just all too consuming, and now, when you see him come into sight, you have to put some physical difference between him and you.

“You don’t have to, Joel. Really, I’m sure someone’ll—“

“No, they won’t. Knowin’ the people around here, you’ll be sleepin’ on the floor till next year.” He bends down, and you drop yourself back to the floor and stare in some kind of mesmerised silence as he runs his hands over the broken hinges of the door.

In a few passing thoughts you’d never admit to yourself, you have an obsession with his hands. He was just so…capable. He could do so many things so easily— and some kind of backward wire in your brain fizzled with electricity at the sight of him in his element. He starts fiddling with tools, first starting to remove the broken hinge, muscles flexing as he tears off the old bolts.

“What happened?” He says, the words muffled by the screwdriver in his mouth.

“I have no clue. When I woke up this morning it was blown in. I spent a good hour trying to move it but it’s so—“ With one arm, he pulls it up to stand vertical, a fist wrapping around the edge of the gate. It doesn’t even look like he tried. “—heavy.”

“Come ‘ere and hold it straight.” He says, keeping one arm out in front of him, the other still holding the door up. “I won’t let it fall. Come on.”

“Like this?” You say, staring down at him as you finally reach the door and take a little bit of the weight. He flicks his eyes up, nodding and shifting on his knees to get a better angle on the door.

“Perfect.” He says softly, looking up at you for another split second before clearing his throat and screwing on a new hinge.

“You really didn’t have to do this, but thank-you.” Joel shakes his head, his fingers fiddling with a latch.

“Least I can do. Everyone should be up here helpin’ you anyways.” He stands up, and with only a barrier the width of a gated door, you can feel his body heat keeping you warm when he towers over you. “Keep holding it still.”

“Yeah.” You manage, eyes fluttering closed. “People help, though.”

“Oh, I bet.” He says, sarcasm dripping off his words as he laughs dryly.

“They do! Sometimes… I mean, it’s not their fault. I’m kind of a hermit up here. I don’t really make an effort, so I can’t blame them.” He stops working, his knuckles white over the railing of the gate, and looks to you.

“You’ve trained all these new horses to track better than those guys ever could. They’d die out there without ‘em. Carl doesn’t know his left from right— he got lost eight times last patrol. It’s cause of your horses he got back safe.” Joel’s face is more serious, his eyes sharp but still with a hint of softness that he often looks at you with. “Doesn’t matter if you ain’t makin’ friends. This ain’t middle school, and people should be helpin’ you no matter what. Least of all fixing a door.”

“That’s why I keep you around, Joel.” You smile lightly, his voice getting lower the angrier he gets.

“Good. You tell me next time, and I’ll come round and help. Avoid the whole town all together.” You hum, letting go of the gate as he hauls it up in the air and shuffled backward, setting it against the hinges. “How do you know so much about horses?”

“I lived on a farm, way back when. Besides, they’re easy to navigate once you get to know them.” Joel puts the screwdriver back in his mouth, and you can’t help but stare at him. The small scars on his face, peppered around his cheeks. Some are older, worn and faded, while the one across his nose is new. It’s not even scarred yet, still fresh

“You okay?” He says softly, tilting his head.

“Your face.” His eyebrows furrow, and you shake your head. “Sorry. You… did something happen on patrol? You have a cut—“

“Just a few clickers. Real old, hauled up in a caravan out west. Nothing we couldn’t handle.” The door drops into place, and he swings it out towards him. It sounds less squeaky than it usually did. “Good as new.”

“You should clean it.” You say, worry edging in your voice. “If it was clickers.”

“I’m fine.” He shrugs it off.

“Come on. It’s the least I can do. I have a first aid kit in the back, and then we can call it even.” He relents, locking the door behind him and stepping further into the stables. “Sit. I’ll get the kit.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You can hear a small smirk on his voice, and you roll your eyes, turning around to find the kit. “Why you got a first aid kit in here anyways?”

“You’re using it now, aren’t you?” You turn around, raising your eyebrows. “You’d be surprised how many people come here before going to medical. I started to stock up a little, do what I can. It’s not much, but I can clean it off and do some botched stitches until they see a real doctor.”

“And none of those guys came up to fix the god damn door?” He was getting angry again, and you tried to ignore the shiver that went up your spine when he spoke like that.

He was sitting on a small stool, putting him about waist height. When you stepped closer, shuffling your feet on the floor, he tilted his head up. His open legs invited you closer, nearly drawing you in with a magnetic field he was completely unaware of.

Armed with a cotton ball and disinfectant, your fingers were light enough to breeze along his jaw to hold him in place. He stares up at you, watching your eyes as they flit between the cut on his nose and his wandering gaze. His face is warm when you work up the courage to place your palm on his cheek, thumb gently smoothing over the salt and pepper flecks of his beard. He doesn’t flinch away when you press the cotton ball to his face, swiping across the bridge of his nose.

“Does it hurt?” You whisper, feeling the need to keep your voice low.

“No.” He does the same, the heat of his body making you shuffle slightly closer. His hands are in fists on his knees, like he’s straining to keep himself still. “Told you it was fine.”

“And I told you I wanted to help.” When you’re satisfied with the results, you take a fresh cotton pad and dry it up. “You might need stitches. It’s deep.”

“Go on.” He says, and you lean back, eyes wide.

“You want me to stitch your face together?”

“Good practise, and I trust you.” The simple words have your heart slamming against your rib cage, but instead of showing it you kneel in between his legs and search the contents of the kit for a needle.

“If I mess up your face, you knew what you signed up for.” When you find what you’re looking for, you straighten, Joel’s face is right in front of you. It takes you a second to realise just how close he is, and the position isn’t lost on him either. It’s probably the most emotive you’ve seen him, his jaw going tight from how hard he’s biting down.

“It’s already messed up. You’re fine.” He manages, his voice strained.

“Hold still.” Whispering the words, you lean closer and bring the needle to his skin. His eyes close, and it’s when you press the point into his nose that his hands shoot out in front of him, holding your hips gently.

“Sorry. Shit—“

“It’s fine. Are you okay?” He grunts in a way you think is affirming, so you keep threading the needle. You only need one stitch for a spot this small. “Your face isn’t messed up.”

“Huh?”

“It’s not. Messed up.” You feel his thumbs stroke along the bone of your hip just once before he stills again. You tie off the stitch, and his eyes open. “There. You’re pretty again.”

Your breathing was rapid even though you didn’t have a true reason for it, but neither of you moved. His hands— strong and so fucking capable, holding you still on your knees in front of him. His eyes were pools, inviting you in with a gleam of something shiny, and where you were nearly gasping he was calm and collected. In his element, like he was right where he should be.

The whole stable was a dull orange now, the colours dusting through the strands of Joel’s hair. It’s never really sitting right, wind whipping it out of control on patrol, but you have the urge to run your hands through it anyway. You let yourself explore one small piece of him, like he has to you, and your fingertips run back over the shell of his ear, tangling in his hair. He sucks in a short breath, leaning into the hold of your hand.

“Joel.” You say, voice so soft he would of never heard you if you weren’t so close, but you call for him and he leans closer. Your foreheads nearly touch, and his hands tighten their hold on you.

“Thank you, darlin’.” You sigh deeply, unable to keep yourself upright at the nickname. It rings through you, his accent strong and adding an entire other layer to why he’s so easy to fall into. You don’t even really notice how dark it’s gotten— you usually have sprinted home by now. But Joel’s here, and with him this close, you can’t think of anything else. He leans closer, and your eyes flutter closed.

“Can I kiss you?” He says, the brush of his lips against yours sending a tidal wave of need from your head to your feet.

“Only if you hurry up.” You answer helplessly, voice cracking, and he smiles against you and finally brings his mouth to yours.

It’s anything but calm. That peaceful energy of the stables is completely shattered and sorted into something electrical and sizzling. He yanks you forward, bodies pressing together as you use the leverage of your hand fisted in his hair to kiss him harder and deeper. It doesn’t take long before his tongue is swiping along your bottom lip, seeking permission.

You let him in— you’d let him do whatever he asked for if he kept pouring himself into you like this. He tasted good, which should be impossible but when you’ve been starved of something for this long it doesn’t matter what he does it’s just that he’s giving it to you. He moves his hands to the small of your back, pressing your hips right in the middle of his open legs, his other hand on the back of your head.

You feel him groan when you press together, the sound waking up parts of you that had been dormant for far too long. It was like he had access to each nerve in your body, and every little sound or touch had them blaring red and sparking.

“Fuck, darlin’. Come closer.” He groans into your mouth before kissing you again. You smile for a moment, not entirely sure how you could get any closer, and then it’s wiped off when he hauls you upward, hooking your legs around his waist on the stool. “Yeah. Right here.”

Your arms cling around his neck, his own searching up and down your body. Your shirt rides up with the movements and you moan every time he grazed along your skin. There’s something equally hard and soft about his hands— rough from years of work but soft with the way they hold you up, how they’re careful not to dip too low or high. You arch your back, giving him wordless permission, and he groans into your mouth again.

At some point you have to breath— both of you gasping for air in the quiet of the darkened stables. He brings his hands to your face, holding you against his forehead so he can look into your eyes. He was smiling too— like actually smiling, not that half smirk you’ve seen so often.

“What are we doin’?” He laughs, kissing you again.

“I don’t know, but can we keep going somewhere that doesn’t smell like horse shit?” You whisper and he laughs again. It’s sounds so good— like the sound of the beginning of your favourite song. It makes your heart sing, melting you into the tune. “Please, Joel. I really want…”

“Tell me, baby.” He moves, angles your head with swift moves of his fingers so he can kiss you lower. Under your jaw, and then he drags his mouth down, along your neck, teeth nipping softly… “Fuck knows I wanna hear you say it.”

“You. I really want you.” He hums against your skin, one arm hooking under your ass as he stands easily. You squeal, muffling the sound in the mop of hair on his head. As you walk outside, there’s only a few people still mulling around, and they turn their heads towards you when they hear your soft laughter mixed with Joel’s— two sounds that seem to alarm them more than clickers.

For the first time since you’d been here, you really don’t care if people are looking at you, or what they’re saying. When Joel locks the gate behind you and slides you down his chest to let your feet touch the floor, you are reminded once again of his ability to remove every single thought from your mind except him. Just him, and his hands on your hips, spinning you around and leading you up the hill towards his house. How every so often he’ll bend down, pressing his lips lightly to the back of your neck, and how you can feel his smile on your skin.

He guides you easily, your body on auto pilot to his small gestures, and when you finally rush up the few steps of his porch— one you’ve spent way too much time staring at from afar, you’re both attached to each others face like horny teenagers. He fumbles with the doors lock, jamming keys with aggressive force while his other hand stays soft and sweet on your waist, holding you against him. When the door gives out behind you he never lets you stumble, taking you in his stride with practised precision. You’ve seen the inside of his house, but never the layout, so as he guides you blindly through the hallway, your shut eyes and occupied mouth never see it coming when you fall backwards onto a bed.

“Let me take this off.” He mumbles against your lips, tugging at your shirt and jacket. In a tangle of limbs you both shove at the material, finally hooking it over your head. He presses you flat against the mattress again, hanging over you and running his hands up and down your sides in long, soothing strokes. “God damn gorgeous.”

“Your turn.” The blaze in his eyes dulls slightly at your comment, and he just bends to kiss you again. He links your hands in his own, pulling you away from where they were tugging at his shirt. “Joel.”

“Nothin’ there you wanna see, baby. Just let me look at you.” As sweet as his voice sounds, and as much as you want him to continue, you pull away from his greedy mouth.

“Please take your fucking shirt off.” You say harshly, biting at his bottom lip hard enough for his eyes to open again. He looks over you, taking in the sight of you under him with your arms pinned above your head, back arched towards him. He’s clearly contemplating how difficult it would be to ignore you, smirking a little when he looks up at your hands again.

“Or what? You gonna make me stop?” He kisses under your jaw, his free hand skating along your side, only stopping when his fingers reach the hem of your jeans. When he hears you gasp as his hand disappears under the fabric, he laughs. “Nah, you won’t make me stop. Want it just as bad as I do, don’t you?”

“But I want—“

“Shh, shh. I’ll give you what you want.” His mouth his dizzying— words and movements hot against your skin as his hand bypasses your underwear and drags slow circles against your clit, immediately drawing his name from your lips again. “There you go, darlin’. Feels good?”

“God— yeah, faster. Please.” Your chest was rising and falling so fast, trying to pull the air he was punching out of your lungs with every quick movement of his fingers. He hums at the praise, and you feel him shift above you, sitting up so he could slip one finger inside of you. “Fuck, Joel!”

“I know, baby.” He tilts his head up to kiss you again, tongue matching the fast and unpredictable pace of his hand. You can feel it building— pleasure rippling up your spine and fizzing low in your stomach, and your hands tug under Joel’s unrelenting grip.

He seems to forget he was meant to be holding you, his groans and concentration all focused on the way he was fucking you with his hand, so he lets you go, his hand going to hold your face. It makes you smile under him, but it quickly gets lost when you moan his name again, rolling your hips against him.

Now your hands are free, you have a moment of clarity when your eyes flutter open and see him staring at you; eyes flitting between your face and your chest. You want to have that— to see skin you’ve only thought about in the late hours of the night when you were alone, never admitting it to yourself when you woke the next day. You grab onto the hem of his shirt, ripping the denim up as far as you can, getting your hands on the bare skin of his back.

He doesn’t help you— too obsessed with the way you are writhing and moaning so loud the poeple down the street will know what your doing. Neither of you care about anything else than this, right here, and the fiery hot spark that’s lighting you up inside.

“Shirt, Joel.” You tug at the collar, then card your fingers through his hair and pull. He grumbles something, and then you whimper when his hand leaves you and he sits up on his knees. He was out of breath, towering over you and keeping you caged underneath him as he tore the shirt over his head and threw it behind him. When he leans back down, he doesn’t give you the time to admire him that you’d like, but you take what he gives you. He shoves your own jeans down, shaking them off you in one tug, and your eyes hardly have time to open before you feel the backs of your calves press against the flexing muscles of his bare shoulders.

“Perfect.” He says, speech almost slurred, and the look he gives you reminds you of the one he gave you in the barn. Before you can think enough on it, both of his hands hold your hips down and he gives you one last look before he buried his face in your pussy.

It doesn’t take much to have you screaming his name again, that sweet hot pleasure that was building so quickly comes rushing back with the wet heat of his mouth. He eats you out like he’s fucking hungry for it— pulling borderline shouts from deep in your chest, like something is bashing against your ribcage, only awoken by his complete and utter devotion. His tongue swirls and fingers curl, and you lose sense of direction, clawing at his hair and feeling his groan when you pull him into you.

There’s no where to go, stuck under his weight as he dives into your taste, at his mercy entirely. It was so different to see him undone— a sight you wouldn’t be able to forget next time he came into the stables all soft eyes and short words. No, here he was holding your eye contact, groaning your name as if you were the one doing this to him. He gave you no choice but to hurtle towards the edge of consciousness, knowing you wouldn’t be able to hold out under him much longer.

“Joel. Joel— fuck.” His lips wrap around your clit, sucking gently while his fingers curl inside you in a spot that has you seeing stars. “Oh, god—“

He doesn’t say anything when you cum, just groans into your pussy as he guides you through it. He sets pace and intensity, both of which are hard and almost unbearable, and he only drags himself away when you beg him to. Your legs shake, his hands smoothing over your thighs as his mouth presses wet kisses up your skin, over your stomach and chest, finally reaching your mouth with an overwhelming force.

You hum, tasting the combination of you and him together on his tongue, taking everything he needs to give you. He shuffles up, and you feel his cock pressing hard against your thigh, still straining in his jeans. You let him kiss you lazily, let him explore you this way while your hands busy themselves between your bodies, unzipping his jeans. When your palm brushes over his length still covered by his boxers, he hisses and his eyebrows furrow, like the pleasure is almost painful. You do it again and he shudders, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You’re so soft.” He murmurs past your ear when you slip your hand under the waistband. When your fingers wrap around him, you stay true to his word and stay light with your touch, not wanting him to finish just yet. You want to make it good for him— draw it out. Pay him back for everything he gave to you; not just tonight, but every night. “So fucking soft. Sweet.”

“You like that?” You ask innocently, stroking him again. Your thumb brushes over his tip and he shudders again, nearly shivering. “I can be gentle. Want you inside me, though.”

“Whatever you want. Fuck— anything you want to do to me. Please, baby. Not gonna last long if you keep doing that.” A single please was enough to grant him a thousand wishes, but you’ll settle for giving him just one.

He helps rid himself of the rest of his clothes, no insecurity in sight with the lower half of his body. There was no need to be… he was big. It made sense— he was a big guy, but it wasn’t just that. He was just… perfect.

“Eyes on me.” He says, pulling your gaze away from where your bodies are about to meet. “I want to see your face when I…”

He trails off when his tip lines up with your entrance. You bite your lip in anticipation, feeling the soaked pleasure coating him as he finally slides himself further and further. You both sigh, like a weight is being lifted from both of you. As if this was the way you were both meant to be.

He bottoms out, head buried in the crook of your neck as he chokes out your name. You feel full— the weight and stretch holding you to the bed, your arms strung lazily around his neck. Your fingers wander down his spine, keeping that soft lilt to your touch that he seems to thrive under. For all his hardness and strength, it’s the lightest touches that seem to crumble him the most.

“Fuck, baby. Feel so good around me.” Joel never speaks for the fun of it, but he says these things like he needs to. Strained and focused, like it’s a compulsion to tell you how good it feels. “Needed to fuck you for so long. You gonna let me make you feel good, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Joel. Please, I need— need you to move.” You whine like a spoilt child, and you are now that you’ve had a taste. He laughs once, a breathless sound, and then pulls out nearly all the way, only to slide back in with that same trained pace.

“Good girl.” He groans, and then picks up the pace.

It’s devastating. It’s the only way to describe it. He fucks you hard and slow, slowly etching himself into parts of your being you aren’t entirely sure he didn’t just create himself. Like he’s forged apart of you just for him, something low and hot, and he hits it with every, perfectly timed thrust. The bed rocks under him, but he doesn’t seem to care. Its creaks and groans are drowned out by his words and both of your moans.

You are incoherent— overcome by pleasure that shocks even the nerves in your fingers and toes, but it seems to have the opposite effect on Joel. He doesn’t fucking shut up— and it’s about the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced.

“So fucking tight around me.”

“God, you feel good.”

“You are so beautiful.”

“Gonna fuck you for days.” Is the last one you hear before his groans turn to borderline whimpers, his pace stuttering as you feel the coil in your stomach tighten and snap all at once. “Oh, fuck that’s it. Cum again for me. Jesus Christ—“

“Joel.” You can only whisper now— voice so strained that nothing could come out but his name. Your eyes roll back and you feel him fuck into you one or two more times, and then he pulls out and replaces himself with his hand. You ride out your pleasure on his skilled fingers, another wave of heat numbing you when you feel him spill onto your stomach, your back arching off the bed.

The room is suddenly dead quiet, nothing but panting breaths filling the silent house. He is still hanging over you, you can feel both of his forearms next to your head as he leans down to kiss you again. The warmth of his body is lifted just enough for him to use something soft to clean you off, and then he collapses beside you, tugging you onto his chest.

He runs his hand through your hair, stopping at your jaw to tilt you up. He kisses you again, the lack of oxygen making you giddy and dizzy, and you break the kiss only because your smiling so wide.

“What’s so funny?” He says, trying to be serious, but even in the dark you can see his matching grin.

“Just happy. Can I be happy?” It’s meant to be light hearted, but you feel him stop for a second, and then he tugs you a little closer.

“Yeah. Yeah, you can be.” He tucks you under his chin, sighing deeply as the rest of your body turns into him and tangles itself with him. “I am.”

You open your eyes a final time, seeing the pitch black dark outside. If it was light, you’d be able to see the stable from here, but it’s black out there. Usually it would make you uneasy, but tucked up under Joel’s safe arms, there’s nothing in the world that could make you feel more at peace.

[keravnous]

diet mountain dew; john wick/fem!reader (smut, 18+)

dating john wick - the playlist

The Boogeyman is out to get you. Little does he know, that you too are willing to do quite a bunch of things just to stay alive.

warnings: blood, guns, knives, injuries, physical violence/fighting, assassination attempt; dub-con, rough sex, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (female receiving), choking, dirty talk, spanking, a lot of manhandling bc for the love of god he doesn't know how to be soft anymore, gun kink, knife kink, size kink, strength kink, squirting, body worship if you blink, is this hate-fucking? idk; john has a horse cock change my mind; john is in his 50s, the reader is in her 20s; set somewhere after the series i guess? (I refuse to accept he's dead); problematic family relationship as a plot device; let's all collectively ignore the fact that he would actually never touch another woman or even dare to catch the smallest of feelings again; john gets off on the violence

word count: 10,6 k

thank you mel for a) listening to my ramblings and b) reading a good chunk of the first third of this dumpster fire and still going nuts about it, kissies and thank you v for listening to my keanu ramblings without losing faith in me

You wonder, if praying will help you. Probably not.

The sound of carnage, screams and gunshots in the hallway abruptly stops. You hear the assailant's heavy footsteps echoing off the floorboards outside of your hotel room mere seconds before the door bursts open, flies out of its hinges and rattles to the ground, wood creaking and breaking, splinters flying everywhere.

There had been a hit out on you for two days and every single soldier in your father's militia was ready to defend your life with their own.

Literally. You can tell by the man entering your suite.

You can tell by just how much he is covered in blood. You can tell by the way it drips down his forehead and how it soaks his white shirt - even the soles of his shoes creak with it. You can tell by the way he is totally and utterly drenched in red red red, and because you are certain it is not his.

They literally gave their life for you. The thought hits you like a blow to the head. People have died because of you. Fathers, brothers, sons. You recall your last conversation with your own father. They want us dead, they put out a contract on us - you had never seen him so nervous, so disheveled. What does that mean - his anxiety had been washing over you in seeping hot waves, sending cold shivers down your spine. It means, I need you out of the house - now.

Nausea bubbles in your stomach as the man now approaches you, casually strolls into the suite with his finger on the trigger of the gun dangling from his hand and you stare back at him - a deer in the headlights, frozen by fear in the eyes of its deadly predator. One of your father's men jumps from his cover, fires a shot and gets hit back with one straight between his eyes. It happens so quickly, that you can't turn your head away. You see the bullet piercing his forehead, blood splattering as soon as it exits the skull on the other side. His head flies back a little, and then his body goes limp, slack, as he falls to the ground with a heavy thud.

You want to scream. You want to vomit. You want to run. But there is nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide from him.

There's only one soldier left with you in the suite now and he is hiding around the corner, near the bathroom. The stranger - the assassin, the killer - does not lower the gun again, and does not let his eyes stray from you as he carefully enters the room. You feel terribly exposed, dressed only in your negligée, not daring to move.

Now, that the dim light of the suite's living room strikes his face, you can finally see him, see the man who has come to end you. He is older than you, maybe nearly twice your age, with dark hair and even darker eyes, matching his black suit. Lean and athletic, chest heaving slightly with physical exhaustion. The Boogeyman.

You do not know who or what you had expected, what cruel and dreadful images your brain had conjured up in the past 48 hours - 48 frightful hours of being moved around from hideout to hideout by your father's men, not staying in one place longer than necessary - but it certainly was not that. Not him. He is a lot more handsome than his reputation has led on. Seeing him on the subway around rush hour you would have never suspected him to be in this business. He looks nice. And that is exactly what makes him dangerous.

You have heard his name before. Echoing from the walls. Baba Yaga. Whispered with both: fear and respect. The Boogeyman. Blurted out: like a curse or like a blessing. Mister Wick: like redemption, like damnation. Jonathan, the king's son walking the earth as the devil.

John. The sound of his name is oddly human - disturbingly human - for someone looking as calm and collected, focused and concentrated as he does right now, while being drenched in blood and pointing a gun at you.

You must have said his name out loud, because his eyebrows twitch irritatedly, a movement so quick you barely missed it - must've sound desperate too, then.

Vision zeroing in on the barrel of his gun, your hands clutch the sofa's edge. There is so much adrenaline pumping through your veins right now that it freezes your limbs, has your ears ringing. The only thing responding to your brain fully are your eyes, and they snap away from the gun and over to the remaining soldier. It's a quick look, not even a second, but the hitman seems to recognize it and - with near inhumane speed - flicks his gun, and fires two shots. Blood splatters against the white door as the shots pin the soldier's body against it, and is it finally drops to the ground heavily it leaves a nasty trail, all wet and sticky and red.

Could be you.

You want to scream, but your body does not belong to you anymore, does not respond to your commands. It is a desperate, cruel sound that leaves your throat instead as you flinch with the sound of the gun being fired.

"Let's make this quick" his voice is gravelly and rough, like he has seen a thousand grim things and the pain of it has etched its way into his throat, left a nasty mark on every tone that ever dared to cross after.

That is when your fight or flight suddenly kicks in. Well, more specifically, it kicks in while he is speaking, as he starts to swap the empty clip of his gun.

He underestimates you. Everyone does. Your father, your brother. The countless men lying dead littered across the hotel's 25th floor. It will be his mistake.

You latch forward, grabbing the vase from the coffee table in front of you. The weight of it in your hand drags you down.

With all the strength you can muster, which is quite a lot considering the massive amounts of adrenaline that are currently amping up your body - you throw it at him. It connects with his forehead sharply; a deep, irritated noise bursting from his throat as it crashes, splinters and falls to the floor.

You are braver, braver than you should be as your assault does not end there, your body pushing you forward, leaping over the table and crashing into his broad shoulders.

I will not die today

Body ramming into his, he stumbles, as your fist connects with his chin. You have only been partially trained in hand-to-hand combat, after pleading your brother for months until he eventually gave in. Sadly, he wasn't nearly as thorough and honest with it as he was training his drug dealer and gun runners. But now, it is the only thing you can rely on.

There is nothing else; no one else left alive in that building who might be able to help you. It is up to you. So, you might as well try.

And Oh, does desperation fire up your blood.

I will not die today

The diversion does not last long and he - John John John only human only human only human - grabs you by you waist hard, fingers digging into your flesh and into the expensive silk, before he slams your body into the ground. All air leaves your lungs with a dull sound erupting from your chest, just as pain blooms around your ribs.

You cough and he looks down at you, confusion making his brows twitch, before cold-hearted determination takes over once more. John aims his gun at you once more, pulls back the hammer and you do not even think about it, your leg rising as you kick against his hand. The shot misses, buries itself deep into the expensive carpet a few inches next to your skull. You have no time to do either: panic or sigh in relief; instead, you deliver him a kick to his stomach, fighting yourself back onto your feet, punching him straight in the face.

John grunts and grabs your wrist, but you see it coming and throw yourself into his wide frame, wrapping your other arm around his back and thus hooking it underneath his right shoulder, dislocating his arm and preventing him from aiming his gun at you. You claw onto him as he twists your arm close to his stomach, while you wrap your legs around him, making it harder for John to shake you off.

I will not die today

You kick and dig the heel of your foot into his thighs and the back of his knees and he grunts and buckles a little, but turns wild and relentless quicker than you can blink, throws the two of you into the next wall. You gasp sharply as your back connects with the large mirror, splinters digging into your back - not deep enough to actually cut skin, but it stings nonetheless, the impact making you dizzy.

Sharp pain shoots through your back and your neck, but you are not willing to give up yet, as raw energy and rage and desperation surges through your body - one of your legs coming loose and your knee hitting his stomach repeatedly, making John grunt in pain and you use your momentum to dig your hand deep into his back, holding onto him and then swirling out of the deadlock he has got you in, jumping his back like a monkey.

His gun clatters to the ground and for a split second, the room falls silent. Then, roaring like an animal gone wild, he grabs your calves and slams his back into the nearest wall, has you screaming with the impact. You can feel blood pouring from your nose, feel it trickling down your lips.

I will not die today

John is stronger than you are, so so much stronger - the apex predator: all muscle, unbreakable focus and the sheer will to kill. But you are not only a little quicker; you also really want to stay alive. It is a force he rarely encounters. And quite frankly, it irritates him.

He may be older than you, taller than you and stronger than you but you have something he does not have: you actually still got something to lose.

And you fight like it, too. All scratches and sharp yells, as you punch and scrabble at his shoulders and tear at his tie, trying to strangle him with it. John is struggling against it, gasping for air and winding beneath your assault and then his grip around your claves grows hard like iron, seconds before he pulls - throws you over his head like you weigh nothing. You land on the expensive carpet with a heavy thud - groaning as you crash onto your side with sharp pain shooting through your shoulder, down your ribcage.

I will not die today

John sputters and stumbles forward, looking for his gun but you are quicker, kicking it away with your foot. It clatters back onto and slides over the wooden floorboards.

For a second you consider your choices, fighting yourself back onto your feet but John - a practiced and seasoned fighter - beats you to it and lands a blow to your upper back, sends you back down with him - a mess of sputtering saliva and painful groans. His body topples onto yours and he quickly rolls the two of you over the floor.

John is heavy and warm on top of you, as he keeps you in a tight headlock, your chest pressed to the floor and neck bend in a painful angle. He presses his strong forearm down onto your windpipe and you choke and cough, feet kicking, hands dragging across the wood, clawing at it feebly.

You can feel his breath on your cheek, hot and damp. You can feel his torso pressing against your back as he kneels behind you.

I will not die today

Mustering all your remaining strength, you trash against him, ramming your backside into his stomach. He grunts and for a split second, his grip loosens. It is all you need. Throwing your elbow back, you hit him in the chest and he caves in.

You cough, crawling forward and then scrambling back onto your feet, one of your negligée’s straps falling down your shoulder in the process. You hastily pull it back up, seconds before John launches a cascade of punches onto you.

A few of them hit you as you try to block them; dull pain igniting in your body, blooming in your face and arms. Your breath goes heavy as you stumble backwards. You cannot do this. There is no way. You just physically can't.

He is stronger. Taller. Heavier. Deadlier. Your body and every single muscle, bone, nerve in it aches and you wheeze but he is already onto you again, half-tackles you and grabs your waist, ready to smash you back onto the ground.

You cling onto him with all your remaining strength, struggling against his huge frame, wrapping your hands around his neck in an attempt to get him to stumble.

His hair tingles on your naked arms. Oh wait --

Tearing at his hair - which has him grunting in both, pain, and irritation at the unusual attempt - you clumsily pull yourself up onto his shoulders, cutting his face right above his eyebrow with your nails in the process until you finally wrap one leg around his throat and close it around there tightly, choking him. John tries to pull you off him and succeeds after quite the tussle, only to find your frame clinging to him, legs and arms wrapping around his body, hands scratching and feet kicking.

I will not fucking die today

In an attempt to either get rid of each other or submit the last blow, to finally kill the other, you two swirl through the room - a deadly dance of torn skin, smashed glass panes and mirrors, bruises and cuts. Somewhere in between kicks and punches, he managed to pick up his gun - and right now, you are mustering all of your exhausted strength to prevent the barrel from pressing against your skull.

Eventually, John crashes your bodies through a large wooden door, and is not quick enough - unable to stop his own oxe-like strength - to stop himself from stumbling into the room. The two of you only come a halt as his knees hit something soft and ironically that is what finally topples both of you over, landing onto the mattress of your bedroom with a soft thud and deep, exhausted grunts.

Your ears ring, and you are ready to lash out at him again despite the physical exhaustion, to strike him square across the face, as --

There is something hard pressing against your crotch.

The world falls silent.

No. No, there's no fucking way. It's got to bea hidden weapon. Must be.

But clearly, it is not. There, between your spread legs, his hard cock presses snugly against your panty-clad pussy.

And he just feels so huge - mouth-watering huge - that your body responds in its own way, hips snapping up, stuttering against the hard bulge. John lets go off a shaky, ragged breath, hand still clutching his gun. And you know, that this is your window.

Feeling the warmth that his body and his hard dick are radiating through his expensive suit, you roll your hips once - a languid, slow motion, rubbing your pussy over his bulge.

And he groans. A deep, primal sound that sounds a little coarse. John is looking at you, starring you down, but there is a shadow dancing over his eyes, turning his brown eyes into deep and dark, black pits that gives him away.

He is horny. The Boogeyman is fucking horny. You would laugh, if the realization wasn't knocking all air straight from your lungs. Because it just another reminder, proof of what he actually is: human.

And what a sight he is to see - eyes turning darker every second, his chest heaving with every breath and making it seem like his shirt is going to pop a button or two any second now, his cock prodding against its restraints and your clothed cunt.

It makes you want him. The thought leaves you dizzy, makes you gasp.

Apparently, that is all he needs to roll his hips back into yours. And that - that is just unfair. It's playing dirty. It's, it's -- His dick feels huge as it trails along your folds, has the muscles in your abdomen clenching.

"Fuck", you breathe, a little overwhelmed with and helpless at the sudden surge of lust that ignites your body, the wetness pooling between your legs.

John is not saying anything, just stares you down while he continues to slooowly roll his hips into yours, grinds his cock against your cunt. Your pelvis twitches upward as you start to meet his movements, and then you can hear it. He let's go of a deep breath, and it sounds like the faintest moan.

You need to hear more of that. You need more of him, your cunt aching and hole clenching around nothing already.

"John", and this time you say his name - consciously - it sounds a different way of desperate: your voice reduced to a small whisper, torn at the edges by a wanton whimper ripping from your throat.

If it throws him off-guard he does not show it, does not let you see it. Instead, he grabs your chin hard, gaze locking with yours. Dark pupils blown wide, swallowing the honey-brown of his eyes, and your breath hitches.

"Yeah?", he rasps, and it does not take more than one long look from you for him to lean in, to press his lips onto yours.

The kiss tastes of blood and adrenaline and doom, and you relish in it. Relishing the way his lips move against yours and his beard tickles a little, relishing how his tongue presses into your mouth. It feels like he is eating you whole, licking into your mouth, one hand dancing over your waist - featherlight, like he doesn't know how to touch a body without hurting someone, destroying someone.

I will not die today, motherfucker

Your whole body now sings with it, the security of an impending victory, as you roll your hips into his once more, your tongue now licking back into his mouth. For a second you think about how to strike again, now that he is seemingly distracted, but all will to fight leaves your body as one of his hands brushes over your knee, wanders further and eventually rests on your thigh.

The touch is electrifying and then his hand grows braver, his movements more certain, as he grabs your thigh, feels you up. It happens so suddenly, that you gasp into the kiss.

John parts from you, his lips a little plush already. "Oh God", you whisper as you stare Death Turned Human straight in the face, not a single thought remaining in your skull despite your lust.

He doesn't speak, as he gently let’s go off your leg and straightens back up and for a second you think he is going to hurt you, with the way his brows are furrowed - but he doesn't.

Instead, he moves in, right over your comparably tiny frame - a mountain of a man. John kneels above you, his weight pinning you down while he straddles your thighs and Jesus fucking Christ - what a sight he is to see.

Dark locks falling into his forehead, a little sticky with sweat and the bits of blood from the cut your nails gave him moments ago - right above his left eyebrow, still lazily trickling down into his lashes. His chest heaves with ragged breaths, as he hastily gets rid of his jacket, carelessly drops it to the ground. His black button-down clings to his muscular body underneath his waistcoat and his equally as muscular thighs pin you down to the bed, black fabric nearly tearing at the seams. And then there is his hard cock.

It looks as huge as it felt, with the way it bulges his pants, the outline of it clearly visible as it buckles proudly against its restraints. You are certain, you will not be able to close your hand around it fully - not a chance.

One of his hands - the one lacking a finger, which you only now notice and what sends shivers down your spine - wanders over your body, pulling your negligée down in the process, right tit spilling out of the soft silk. He immediately grabs it, cups it with his large hand and squeezes. You mewl, marveling at just how big his hand is, just as his whole body is in comparison to you. His fucked-up finger digs into the flesh, sending shivers down your spine.

John's hand gropes your tit, before he impatiently pulls the neckline down roughly. You sigh, arousal shooting down your spine and tingling in your lower belly, as two of his fingers nudge your nipple, pinch it.

He watches your face intently, as he continues to grope you, rolls your nipple between his fingers. You mewl, breath accelerating a little but it is just not enough and you buck your hips upwards. John grunts in, what you assume is an approving manner, and let's go off your tit, reaches to his belt at his loins.

Quickly pulling a knife from God-knows-where exactly, a sharp blade enters your vision.

You blink, panic seeping through your lust and your legs twitch a little with fear. If John notices it, he neither shows it nor does he say anything, just moves the knife closer to your body.

The blade shines in the dim light as it dances over your exposed thighs carefully, the metal cooly pressing against your skin, before he flicks it and cuts your negligée open. The thin, soft fabric cleanly cut in half it now lazily slides from your aching body, falls to its sides. Your chest heaves, shivers running down your arms and back.

It happens so quickly that you can only blink. As your brain finally catches up with your eyes, you come to realize that he is holding a real fucking tactical knife. You have thrown one once - they are sharp as hell and deadlier than a bullet. The sound of fabric tearing easily, like paper, proves your point.

And John's movements with the blade are so fast that your breath hitches, a little afraid he might cut you. But he does not, instead, he quickly pulls the torn silk off you and away from under you, carelessly tosses it into the dark of the room.

The edge of the blade dances over your skin and you do not dare to breathe, as he trails it up and down your curves, gently nudges your nipples. "I could kill you", he says calmly and then, in lightning speed, presses the blade into the crook of your neck. Your head sinks back into the mattress, in an instinct to flee the sharp edge.

All it does is to expose your neck further and something gleams in John's eyes, as he presses the sharp tip down slowly, carefully nudging your skin with it. The metal is cold and hard and sharp and your breath hitches. Just a little bit more and it might burst your skin, draw blood.

But, to your own confusion, you do not feel threatened anymore. Oddly enough, your nerves tingle with excitement. You blame it on the already high levels of adrenaline that still pump through your veins, rushing back and forth from your brain and your lungs, but a small voice inside of your head whisper gently, deviously, that you know That's not it. And he knows it, too.

It's in his eyes as well, the sheer excitement of it all, the fucked-up pleasure it evokes in the both of you lays heavy in the air.

It turns you fucking on. It turns you on, that the man who - minutes ago - tried you kill you and did hurt you very fucking badly in the process of it, now decides to let you live.

It turns you on, that you are at his mercy.

It turns you on, that he decided to spare you - just for now.

It turns you on, that these large and strong hands holding the knife have that sort of power over you. And thus, as the blade nudges your head back further, you moan.

"I could cut your throat", John's voice is heavy and thick with arousal and you can feel your heartbeat picking up, breath accelerating. His gaze drops down, watches the rapid rising and falling of your breasts hungrily, while another soft moan escapes from your lips.

"Don't", you breathe softly.

The knife practically burns on your skin, and you can feel arousal flooding your clothed pussy, rubbing your thighs together for any sort of friction. John can feel your squirming underneath him, but he can also see your eyes turning watery and dark with lust, pupils blown and a pretty pink spreading on your cheeks, your breath growing shallow. And he just really needs to fucking taste you right now.

As quickly as it appeared, the blade vanishes from your throat before he twirls the knife like the ruthless, reckless professional that he is, and buries it deep to the hilt in the mattress next to you. The sharp sound as it pierces the thick fabric has the hairs on your body standing up, goosebumps rolling over your skin.

"I'll do it later", he rumbles - casually, like he is talking about doing chores or picking up groceries - before hunching over you, grabbing your chin with his fucked-up hand, and kissing you again. His tongue immediately pushes into your mouth, like he is starving to taste you.

John eats you whole, with the way his lips move against yours. His hand cups your face, tongue licking into your mouth, toying with yours. His kiss steals your breath and you start to get dizzy with it, hips bucking. You can feel his lips curling up and then he parts from you, leaving you a gasping mess, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth.

"Let me touch you, John", you whisper, voice a little small because you do not know why you feel that way, and if he will even allow it. But you just need to feel him.

For a long moment his gaze dances over your face and something shifts behind his eyes, like a shadow gets lifted and then very quickly returns. Ultimately, he gives a court nod, so small you nearly miss it and gives you a little more room while straightening back up.

Carefully, as if not to spook him, you dart one hand out, place it on his chest. The muscle is firm underneath his suit and you run your hand along the lapel of his jacket, down and then back up, before it slips beneath it.

John's body radiates warmth under the black fabric of his shirt and your other hand comes up, before you shove the jacket off his shoulders and onto the floor next to the bed.

Your breath hitches.

He is wearing a holster, a reminder of his deadliness, of the gun laying somewhere next to you. Maybe, he sees the fear returning in your eyes, but he is quick to shrug the holster off, throws it into the dark where it clatters onto the wooden floor boards. What is left in front of you are broad shoulders and a muscular chest, the fabric nearly tearing at his movements.

As you run your hands over it, you cannot help yourself - you need to fucking feel him for real.

Quickly making work of his waistcoat and tie you toss both to the side carelessly, before your hands roam his broad chest. His button-down clings snugly against his upper body and you can feel the muscles work beneath the black fabric as your hands brush over them. You tug at the shirt, pulling its tails from his pants before hastily opening the first few buttons. The skin underneath is pale, littered by blue - red - black bruises, birthmarks scattered in between like stars. You pop open the rest of the buttons, greedy to touch him. And as the shirt falls to the sides your hands are already onto his chest, roaming over and admiring the muscular, defined canvas of strength, that violence has painted a pretty picture on.

John is watching you intently as you undress him and then explore his body, your pupils blown wide and dark, mouth agape a little. He is a little taken aback by it - by someone not seeing his body as the ultimate tool of death that it is, but as something else, that he cannot really pinpoint because he can't even look in the mirror without seeing destruction and decay. But the way your gaze wanders over his body, the way you touch him, is different from that and he has not felt anything like it in years.

And John wants. Carnal desire tugs at his brain, shoots arousal between his legs, makes his cock twitch and a low growl escaping his throat.

The sound gets you going: pushing yourself up with one hand, the other wrapping around his strong neck for leverage as you sit up, mouth immediately clutching to his throat. He tastes of sweat and after-shave - sharp and musky - and you run your tongue over his skin greedily, licking and sucking at the skin while your naked body presses against his.

It disarms him. The gentle touch that you put his body up to, while everything still aches from plowing through the better half of your father's militia and beating the hell out of you, confuses him. Your touch, your lips on his skin are soft and not aiming to hurt - instead, they grow more and more needy, wanton and hasty, as you lick over his bruised skin, tasting his sweat. Your hands over his abdomen caress his defined muscles, in awe of his utter strength, thumbs brushing through the soft and dark trail of hair leading beneath the waistband of his trousers. And all John can do, is watch, his gaze locking with yours as goosebumps erupt on his skin.

And you - oh you; your head swims with the way you turn this animal into a human again, unlock a different set of animalistic needs within him and hearing John's breath growing heavy really fucking does it for you, feeling his scarred and beaten-up skin underneath your hands, wrapping them around the deadly machine that is his body. It makes you want more.

Shedding his blood-stained shirt off of his shoulders, your hands roam over his upper back - feeling the scars there: of knives, larger and small ones and round ones of bullets that once pierced his skin. There is something else, a burn scar, in the shape of a cross and he hisses as your fingers brush over it, nails digging into the stunted skin.

It pulls John out of his stasis, reminds him of who he is and you can feel the air swinging with it seconds before he moves. His large hands wrap around your shoulders and then he pulls you off him, throws you back onto the mattress. You yelp, eyes growing wide as you watch his face as it turns from lightly dazed back to stern, wild, with his brows furrowed.

"That's enough", he says, voice coarse and it still feels like a small victory, even though he spreads your legs roughly, hands digging deep into your thighs - hard enough to bruise - before he kneels between them. He yanks your body forward at the back of your knees, watches your tits bounce and then leans in, his lips immediately attacking your throat, your neck.

His lips are surprisingly soft against your skin, his beard tickling a little as it brushes over your tits, your stomach, your thighs while his tongue licks fat stripes over your nipples and down down down your upper body, right to your navel. One of his hands creeps up your body once more and roughly cups your tit, squeezes, and gropes it, rolls your hardened nipple between his index and middle finger. His stunted ring-finger digs deep into your tit and you gasp, hips bucking. John's lips suck and nibble at your skin, before eventually ghosting over your pubic bone, teasing you before assaulting your thighs again, teeth biting down gently into the soft flesh. You gasp and moan while he gropes your body, inhales your scent - as you watch how his lips, tongue, and teeth dance over your thighs, moving closer to your cunt.

John finally, finally, puts his mouth onto your pussy, peppers open-mouthed kisses around your clit, before clothing his lips around it and sucking on it hard through your panties. Your hips buck as a high-pitched moan erupts from your throat, hands flying into his greying locks.

"Fuck", you whine, feeling fresh wetness flooding your folds, dampening the thin fabric further. John can see the outlines of your wet pussy pressing against your panties and parts from your clit momentarily, only to lick a fat stripe over your clothed cunt, watching it twitch.

"That's fucking pretty", he rasps, gaze locking with yours and you feel all air leaving your lungs. His eyes are so fucking dark, like gleaming black pits swallowing you whole, his breath a little flat with arousal.

You want him to fuck you. Really fuck you. To plow you open, rail you until you cannot sit nor walk. He is already so so close to you, but too far away at the same time. "Please", is all you manage to utter out. And it seems to be sufficient enough for him; seems to get across what you want, what you need.

John's fingers wrap around the front of your lace slip, tugging at the fabric - that rubs along your cunt at the sudden motion and has you gasping quietly - and then he pulls. The lace tears easily as he rips it apart, and cool air hits your wet and hot pussy, as he practically peels you out of your underwear, throws it to the side. The look on his face is wild and you can hear him taking a deep breath, smelling your arousal, before he spreads your folds apart with his thumbs, gaze wandering over your plump and flushed cunt.

Teasingly brushing over your clit with his thumb, John watches your reaction intently. And fuck, you do not disappoint. Throwing your head back, you moan, drawing in a deep breath through your opened mouth that heaves your chest, your eyelids fluttering.

You are dying for him to touch you and as he does, it feels like your body catches fire - lust washing away the dull pain in your limbs and near your ribs.

"Oh God", you breathe out as his thumb draws another wide and slow circle over your clit, your hands darting out and grabbing the sheets "Please."

And John complies, his thumb rubbing over your clit in a slow but steady rhythm.

Gasping, your hands clutch the sheets, knees darting away from each other, giving him more space. John accepts the invitation, grabs one thigh hard, fucked up ring-finger digging deep into your skin. His fingers move further, abandons your clit and dance over your folds, down to your hole. It flutters as two of his digits tease it, gently circling around it.

"Please", you whine once more, lifting your hips a little, a desperate noise leaving your throat. John smirks to himself, before pushing two of his fingers into you.

The stretch is sudden and bigger than expected and you moan coarsely, as he pushes his digits along your walls deeply and nestles them into your seeping hot cunt up to his knuckles. And Jesus, you feel so full already; your head swimming as you consider how big his cock must feel, then.

Your breath goes quick and shallowly as he starts to move them, and then he leans in. Nudges your clit with the tip of his tongue, licks over it.

You feel like combusting on the spot: your nerves tingling with arousal, your whole body still aching from the beating you gave each other earlier - the pain in your back blooming as you stretch it with your hips desperately shoving themselves near his touch - your pussy squeezing his fingers.

John pumps his thick fingers in and out of you, his tongue rubbing and circling your clit and soft, needy moans fall from your lips. Obscene, wet sounds fill the air, mingle with your moans and heavy breathing. His lips close in around your clit, sucking at it while his fingers rub along your spongy walls and your cunt squeezes them hard as fresh wetness floods your folds, your squirt wetting his beard and dripping down on the sheets below.

You can hear - feel - John humming against your pussy, peppering the wet skin with open mouthed kisses, licking over it, and tasting your slick.

You feel so fucking good - lust pulsating through your veins, loins on fire - and your head falls to the side, body rocking with sharp gasps and your mouth agape, eyelids fluttering as --

There's the gun. And the knife.

You could easily grab either one or the other next to you, pull the blade out of the matress or the hammer back; put a bullet right between his eyes or plow the blade deep deep into his skull. Killing the Boogeyman. Killing Baba Yaga.

That would do wonders to your family's business. It would emancipate you from it, you would be free. Free to rule.

"Thinking 'bout killing me?", John rumbles, tongue licking a fat stripe over your cunt, nudging your clit. Your gaze flickers back to him: hair a mess, eyes gleaming darkly, hands on your thighs to keep your legs spread. He does not look surprised. Neither does he look worried.

Realization hits you like a blow to the head: he is toying with you. Has been the whole fucking time. The wolf hunting the deer, running a few rounds through the woods to weaken it; its breath whistling with exhaustion, long legs buckling before it collapses - an easy kill. An easy kill for an old wolf, one, that can't quite handle a real hunt anymore.

But maybe, just maybe - judging from the look in his eyes - he got lost in his own game. Its reins slipped from his bloody hands, the wolf tumbling to the ground.

Looking back at him, your lips curl into a sweet smile. "Not anymore", your hand darts out, brushing the loose strands of dark hair from his face - the soft gesture leaving him visibly confused -, "John."

Two can play this game. And maybe, just maybe, the deer can tire the wolf out first.

Something gleams in John's eyes, dances over them like a shadow and he seems to accept the challenge - readying to tire you out - tongue licking over your clit once more, making you shiver and mewl, as he pulls his fingers out of your dripping hole. You feel empty and --

"Do you really think, you could kill me?", he rumbles, voice deep and rough around the edges, "Stupid slut."

And then, quicker than your brain can process it, his hand comes down on your dripping wet pussy.

Your breath hitches, topples over and leaves your throat as a raw, needy moan. Softly stinging pain blooms between your folds and sets your nerves on fire. Blame it on the bruises, blame it on the pain you both inflicted on each other moments ago, but: it riles you up. Mingles with your aching bones and aching cunt, has you arching your back.

"Y'really think you could kill me", he doesn't sound offended, not even amused - voice plain, like he is inquiring if you really believed the earth to be flat. Like you really are stupid.

And you start to feel stupid, too. There was never a chance. You never had a chance. Your death was sealed, determined the second John stepped into the hotel.

You were stupid to believe you could outrun or beat him. You are stupid. And John has every right to show you, teach you, punish you for it.

Giving your cunt another firm slap, John watches your hips twitch, hears your pussy squelching and soft moans falling from your lips. "Shit", you sigh and he slaps your wet pussy once more, feels your slick folds wetting the palm of his hand.

"D'you like that, girl?", and as your only response are wanton gasps falling from your mouth John chuckles deeply, gives your pulsating cunt another two firm slaps. Seeing how he is pulling you apart, how good he makes you feel really seems to do it for him, gets him quite talkative.

"Uh-huh", you make dumbly, quite illiterate, watching him stroking your flushed, hot cunt with two of his fingers. Shivers run down your spine.

And then he leans back in, licks a fat stripe over your sensitive, flushed cunt, from the hole up to the clit.

You squirm, mewl as his beard brushes over your overstimulated skin, leaving a slight burn that mingles deliciously with a fresh wave of arousal that floods your body scalp to toes.

The muscles in your abdomen clench as two of his fingers circle your fluttering hole and then push in, rubbing along your plush walls agonizingly slowly and you can feel yourself tightening around it. Your juices squelch from your cunt as you squirt against his tongue and your slick runs down your folds, wets his fingers and palm while his tongue laps at your pussy, tasting your sweetness.

John pushes is fingers deeper as you moan and sigh, hands fisting his hair and hips moving against his tongue, his digits thrusting into you.

"Oh god", you huff as his lips close in around your clit, sucking on it and the tip of his tongue flicking against it occasionally.

Another wave of fresh wetness floods your cunt as you squirt once more, wetting the sheets below, your slick running down John's wrist.

John parts from your clit, nudges it with his tongue, his beard glistening with your juices.

"Yeah, that's fucking it", another one of his thick fingers pumps itself into your tight little hole and his other hand - also slick with your juices - grabs your thigh, "That's a good girl."

You feel so full, your spine feels like it's on fire and your brain tingles with it, sends wave of pleasure down down down your body; muscles in your loins clenching, chest heaving. It becomes all too much as he leans back in, rubs his tongue over your clit, lips sucking and teasing your folds.

The slight burn of John's beard tickling your plush, hot cunt. His fingers working your open and stretching your tight little hole open far and wide, obscene squelching sounds filling the air as he works you open, brushing against your g-spot occasionally and making you see stars.

But it's too little. It's just not enough.

"Fuck", you whine as John's thick fingers brush over your g-spot with quite some force, tongue lapping at your seeping cunt, "Shit, please. Please, just fuck me, please!"

You can feel him grinning against your wet cunt, beard a little sticky with your juices, letting go of your pussy with an obscene pop. "Yeah", he licks his lips, tastes you on his tongue, "D'you want my cock?"

And that - that might be what makes you lose your mind. Because yes. Yes, you do.

You have been craving to touch it, to feel it since it had pressed against your clothed pussy earlier. Thus, all dignity leaves your body with one, clean whine that breaks free from your throat.

"Yes, fuck - oh god, John", you brabble, legs falling apart further, inviting him in, his digits sinking deeper into your soaking wet hole, "Shit, please fuck me, John - please, please, please --"

Pleas are still falling from your lips like a chant, as a surprising noise breaks the silence, so strangely beautiful that it has you nearly shuddering: John is laughing. It's a nice baritone sound, and the fine lines around his eyes crinkle with it - it's so beautiful, that it drowns the world out. You watch him in awe, as he shakes his head, avoids your gaze.

"Jesus. Look at you", he huffs, voice dripping thickly with amusement, "If you need it that badly--"

Straightening back up and kneeling between your legs, John slips his fingers from your cunt and makes quick work of his belt, trousers, and boxers. The second he frees is cock, you start to drool like a fucking pavlovian-dog.

His dick is so fucking huge. It is nicely curved and cut, the bulbous pink head glistening with pre-cum and a thick, pumping vein at the bottom that rakes from the base to the tip, as it rests between trimmed, dark pubic hair. His cock bobs against his abdomen as it bounces free, smears the pre-cum along the pale skin, twitches at the sudden contact. And Jesus fucking Christ, you just want to fucking touch it, feel its velvety skin in your palm. But you just know that you won't even be able to wrap your hand around its base fully, it's impossible, it--

"I-it won't fit", you whisper, a little taken aback by his sheer size.

"Oh, I'll make it fit, baby."

John takes his cock in one hand, thumb right beneath its head, and rubs it against your slit. And Jesus fucking Christ. Your hips snap up, meet his movements, and he grunts while he spreads his pre-cum along your cunt, gathers your slick. The thick head of his dick prods against your entrance and you take a deep breath, looking down between your legs. You watch how he slooowly pushes in and you gasp at the sudden intrusion, the delicious stretch making you moan.

His cock feels so fucking big, hot, and heavy, as he nestles the tip in, your hole clenching around it. John's brows furrow, and he doesn't wait long until he pushes his cock in further.

The thick base starts to stretch your slim rings of muscles, a sharp pain shooting through it. He can feel your hole protesting, can see you wincing. "Breathe, baby", he hums, "Let me do the rest."

His coarse voice mingles with his words and the waves of pleasure shooting through your body despite the dull pain, conjures up a pretty pretty image that floods your brain - there's sunlight everywhere, orange rays of it hitting a bed covered in white sheets, sweaty bodies on top of it; limbs entangled, hands intertwined with their golden rings shining brightly in the warm light, heavy breathing and sloppy kisses, and lazy thrusts as his cock fucks you awake. The thought makes you dizzy, your legs falling apart and hole fluttering open, inviting him in.

The slight burn leaves you a gasping, whimpering mess as he pushes himself in deep, nestles his huge cock in between your aching, hot, and tight walls.

And John feels like he is going to pass out. No blow to the head, no bullet to the chest, no knife to the stomach could ever make him feel as dizzy as the feeling of your hot cunt squeezing him does right now. His whole body is vibrating with want and lust and he just really hopes that you don't notice that he has gotten a little rusty. The thought quickly gets drowned-out as he looks down, where his thick cock practically splits you open, vanishes in your hole.

"Shit", he huffs out, places one large hand on your stomach and thrusts. Feeling himself moving inside of you has him moaning, gaze shooting up to you, meeting your eyes, as his hand presses down. "You feel me right here, baby?", he rasps and you nod, mouth agape by the sheer force of his thrust, tip of his cock prodding your cervix.

John can see his cock moving inside of you, the way your stomach bulges a little. He gets a little dizzy with, and then his eyes make the mistake of moving up to your face. And it takes a whole lot of fucking will-power of him to not just thrust and thrust and thrust and fuck you until you cry, bleed.

You are so fucking pretty. Mouth agape you watch how his cock vanishes between your legs, splits your cunt open, with his eyes heavy-lidded and cheeks flushed. Your lips are plush and red from his assault.

Your hands grip the sheets and your breasts heave with your deep breaths, that grow a little more flaccid. Next to you lays his gun, knife still buried into the mattress. His eyes drop to the weapons and his breath hitches. And for a split second, like a flash of light, he wonders what in God's name he's doing here. He is a professional. The Ballerina works like that. He doesn't.

A sweet, sweet noise rips him out of his thoughts. "J-john", you mewl, eyes still trained on his massive dick splitting you open, "I-it, it's --"

"Yeah?", he breathes, the sound all soft and careful around the edges.

"Heavy", you breathe.

"Does it hurt?", he kind of wants it to. Make you pay for what you did to him. He kind of doesn't want it to. Make you enjoy what he's got to give.

John realizes he is fucked.

You nod, head flying back into the cushions, while your brows dart together.

John's free hand flies to your clit, nudges it gently, before slowly rubbing wide circles over it. You gasp, as you feel fresh wetness flooding your cunt and dripping down your folds to where his cock splits your hole open, pools around it. He carefully pulls out a little and then pushes back in, assisted by your slick. The way you moan spurs him on and the circles on your clit grow faster and smaller.

Aching your back, you lean into the touch. "That's a good girl", he whispers, voice raw and coarse, dripping with lust and the exhaustion of holding back. John bottoms out, while continuing to rub your clit and he can feel your walls growing plush, your hole fluttering around his dick, relaxing with your hot, seeping cunt inviting him in. "Feels good?"

"Yeah, fuck", you feel like you are being split open, with his thick cock filling you to the brim and rubbing along your walls with every little movement, the thick head prodding gently against your cervix, "Shit, John."

It feels so fucking good, all thoughts being washed away from your brain as he starts to move carefully, thrusts into you once, twice. You moan, lips slightly parted, before your gaze flies to him.

And Fuck. John's chest is flushed a little, muscles of his abdomen flexing with every thrust while his gaze is trained down to where his cock fucks into you, brows darted together a little and his breathing audible.

"John?", you whisper, and his gaze immediately shoots up to you as your comparably tiny hand wraps around the wrist of his hand that is still rubbing your clit.

"Yeah?"

"Fuck me."

For a long moment, he just looks at you and you think - no, you are convinced - that you can see a glimpse of the human being he once was. Caring, sweet and gentle; as he seems to really take it into consideration if you are ready yet, if you know what you are begging for.

Apparently, he does deem you prepared enough, and the soft gaze gets replaced by a dark gleam as all gentleness vanishes from his face once more. Without a warning, John rolls his hips back only to thrust into you again, deep, and hard, immediately picking up a quick rhythm.

It comes as a genuine surprise to you and you gasp, mewling but it quickly feels just so fucking good, practically lights your body up and leaves every nerve-ending on fire, each thrust has you moaning loudly.

It spurs him on, makes him grunt and for a while, you both just watch him gliding in and out of your tight hole, with him feeling your muscles squeezing him and you feeling his cock stretching your open further and further. Your lips as slightly parted and his brows are furrowed as he rolls his hips into yours and you feel time getting lost on you, the only thing of importance remaining is the feeling of him filling you up. John's hands roam your body, wandering over your thighs and your stomach, your hips before angling your leg, pushing the heel of your foot on his shoulder, and grabbing your ankle with one hand, his dick slips into you even further, balls slapping against your ass heavily with each thrust.

You can tell that John has not fucked in a long, long time. It's not the way he does it - all fluid, languid thrust of his hips, muscles dancing under the soft skin. It's mostly the way he pants and grunts - sounds just as desperate as you feel. And still, he has the stamina of a racehorse.

You can feel that he wants to prove it, too, as his free hand grabs your thigh and hoists your other leg over his hip bone, practically pulling your lower half off the bed in the process. Your pelvis now clings to his, obscene sounds of his cock fucking into your wet pussy filling the air while he huffs with his thrusts, yet does not slow down.

The grip on both, your ankle and your thigh are hard, and you are certain his hands will leave a bruise but you just cannot bring yourself to care. Deep down you know, that someone will see them: your maids, your friends, your family.

But all thoughts, all worries get swapped from your brain as your gaze wanders up from where John's dick hammers into you steadily, rakes over his defined stomach and chest and finally, finally lands on his face.

He looks downright, utterly, and breathtakingly -- pornographic.

John's dark pupils blown wide gleaming with arousal, his cheeks are slightly blushed and a thin layer of sweat makes him glow in the dim light of the living room falling onto the bed. It surrounds him like a halo, a Saint of Death and Decay, with his dark hair falling into his forehead and onto his shoulders. He brushes it out of the way with his stunted hand, a ragged breath making his chest heave. There is still some of your slick wetting his beard.

You can't help your mind from going there, from wondering how different things could have been. What it would be like if you had met me in a bar instead of him entering your suite, leaving the hallway behind him looking like a slaughterhouse. Maybe he would have laughed at your jokes, in the dim light of your favorite bar in the city. Maybe he would have liked the same music as you do. Maybe, just maybe, he would have brought you home only to stay the night and fuck you until you would have lost your goddamn mind.

Your hand wanders down your body, strokes your waist and hip in the process, before it languidly drops between your spread legs, two fingers darting out and rubbing circles over your sensitive clit.

John moves quickly, his usual deadly precision shattering your peaceful fantasy, his hand ditching your thigh and closing in around your waist. "Don't you fuckin' touch yourself", he growls, and it's the first time you hear real, actual emotion dwelling in his throat - not his toneless, cold and mechanical rumble. He sounds pissed. Offended.

And the best part is: it seems to get him fucking going.

John leans in, your calf still resting on his shoulder and the slight pain of the stretch is delicious as he nearly folds your body in half. You can feel his dick sliding in even deeper into your hole and you gasp and whine, one hand coming up to dig into his biceps to just hold on. Hold on, while he pounds into you with perfectly angled, deep and strong thrusts, hitting your g-spot with every single one of them.

You know that the suite's door is in shambles, that anyone could walk in here and see you having your brains fucked out by the man who is here to kill you - but you don't care. Part of it is, because the gun is still resting next to your head on the sheets. You could just grab it and shoot anyone dead in heartbeat, whoever is trying to disturb the pleasure that shoots through your body.

But it is also him.

It's the way John is towering over you, back hunched, looking all wide and powerful and deadly, with the way he shields your body from view and harm as he thrusts into you. As he pushes all his rage, adrenaline, and strength into your tight hole, groans, and pants into your ear.

There is nothing you can do, despite holding onto him, nails digging into his back, clutching his broad shoulders, fingers running over his tattoos desperately. He is fucking the living daylight out of you, your body moving like a ragdoll underneath the mountain of muscles and strength. Your cunt is being split open by his cock, as you feel him hammering into you and you feel like you are going to lose your mind, panting and moaning with each of his thrusts.

"John, fuck", you moan sweetly, eyes rolling into your skull as he pounds into you, "You feel so fucking good, shit --"

"Yeah", he huffs, his forehead slowly sinking onto yours, "You too, baby."

You can see his eyelids fluttering, feel his upper body heaving beneath your hands, smell the blood on his skin, mingling with his musky scent. Blaming it on the sickening cocktail of hormones that is flooding both - your brain and your body - you lean in, your lips desperately smacking against his.

And Jesus Fucking Christ. Does John kiss you.

Kisses you like he is starving for it, licking back into your mouth - his body pressing yours into the mattress with his whole weight and muscle, while still thrusting into you.

Your hands tangle into his hair, tugging at it. John moans against your lips and your stomach flutters at the sound, and you want more. One hand moves to lay at the crook of his neck and your tongue presses against his, licking back into his mouth. Adding some force to his neck you invite John deeper into the kiss, and he follows suite, steals you the last bit of air your lungs were holding. Panting you part from him, thumb brushing over the crook of his neck.

Greedily breathing against his lips, you can't help yourself. You feel so alive and you want him to wreck you, to leave something behind that you will remember for every day your heart continues to beat. Greedily breathing against his lips, you can't help yourself but to whisper: "Harder."

John blinks, hips stuttering. And then, he grunts. His hand digs into your waist as he grabs you there, hold you in place will his hips rut into you. Picking up a near brutal rhythm, obscene sounds of your slick being pushed in and out and in out of your hole as he jackhammers into your g-spot, the bedframe rattling as John's thrusts pound it into the wall - leaving you a gasping and moaning mess. His belt clinks with his thrusts and you cling onto him, sharp whines escaping your throat.

"John John John", his name leaves your mouth like a mantra, sharp and high-pitched. His head falls forward, dark locks brushing over your cheek as his temple rests against yours and then you hear it.

John moans.

It's a deep, carnal sound. Your stomach flutters and lust shoots through your body at the noise, your tight cunt squeezing his thick cock as you squirt around his cock like a broken fucking hose, wetting his pubic hair. You can feel it rubbing along your wet folds, the sensation making you mewl, leaves your hips shuddering.

"Shit", you breathe, hands cradling his muscular back and then you can feel his dick twitching inside of you, accompanied by yet another one of his sweet, sweet moans, "Fuck, John--"

He raises his head and your gazes connect, before he leans in, presses his lips onto yours once more. The kiss is surprisingly soft and in stark contrast to the way he ruts and pounds into you and then he hits the spot once more and -

Everything goes white as your muscles clench and unclench suddenly, as you nearly scream against his lips; your hole practically milking his cock as you cum, pussy gushing and squirting around him like a broken hose.

John continues to fuck you through your orgasm and his heavy breathing reaches your ears through the cotton candy, that slowly wraps you in as everything turns light and bright. He moans deeply against your cheek as he comes, too - shoots hot ropes of cum into you and paints your walls with it.

His movements still as he buries himself deep into you, cock twitching with each thick rope of his cum and you can feel him fill you up, as his massive frame slowly sinks down onto you.

Your legs grow heavy and the stretch of your left leg is turning painful and you - a little clumsily - pull it away from his shoulder, stretch it out. Your limbs start to shake and you close your eyes, drawing in deep breaths through your nose.

The room is silent, the air heavy with the musky scent of sex.

Your chest still heaves with the remains of your orgasm, bliss still spreading in your brain and your veins, making you feel like you are flying. Your heart is still racing, as you feel him moving again.

Blinking up at him, you can see him grabbing the gun.

"Don't", you say softly, voice coarse from screaming your lungs out in pleasure just moments ago, "Please, don't." You are not ready to scream yet again. Not ready to scream in pain, instead of pleasure.

John does not reply. He pulls the hammer back, checks the chamber - all with one hand.

"Kill him instead, please."

He freezes, eyes locking with yours. "Who?", he sounds just as exhausted as you. The wolf, tired out. The deer, bleeding, limping.

Call it Post Nut Clarity, call it Finally Taking Your Future In Your Own Hands, call it Emancipating Yourself. Call it Having Wrapped A Deadly Assassin Around Your Pinky.

You were not safer here. You never were. Just more isolated. Easier to locate.

Easier to kill.

Realization hits you like a blow to the head, your vision swimming.

See? I will not die today.

"My father. Kill him."

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day four: voyeurism kink

>>> guys can you tell i have a choso fantasy or do i need to write another five thousand word fic to prove it i'm sobbing and actually in love with him fr. it took me days to write this bc i was just too feral.

>>> starring: choso kamo x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: roommate choso, hung like a horse choso, virgin choso, voyeurism clearly, petnames, masturbation, cowgirl, implied multiple rounds, choso whimpers you're so welcome, choso smokes a blunt grow up >>> wc: 4.8k >>> event masterlist

this whole roommate ordeal seemed easy enough. you had a spare room in your condo, yuji had a spare brother that needed a place to stay after graduation. it worked out perfectly, as you weren’t too keen on having a rando move in. though the half-curse was little more than that, really. you had only come in contact with choso briefly, seeing him move through the halls of jujutsu tech in search of the very brother that recommended him to you. he was intimidating, tall and broad with a look of disinterest across his face every time you ran into him. yuji had told you that he wasn’t necessarily unfriendly, just unsure, so you were weary to approach him once he moved into the spare room. you didn’t want to overdo it, you would hate to make him uncomfortable with all these changes he was getting accustomed to. so for the first three months or so, you two would only exchange pleasantries and nod respectfully, two strangers sharing an address and lingering curious stares. then, one morning you offered to make him breakfast, and you two settled into a comfortable friendship after that. 

Nowadays, nearly a year later, the living area was actually used and shared. you watched recommended shows together, introduced each other to your favorite movies, and oftentimes just sat in each other’s presence on the couch; on your phones, playing nintendo switch games, or passing choso’s best attempt at a blunt between you while shit talking your neighbors with your legs in his lap. you even encouraged him to invest in a real gaming setup, where he plays a host of different games for hours while you sit contently in the bean bag chair stationed nearby in his room, reading or crafting or just watching from time to time. the more comfortable he became, the more fun he was to be around. he was no longer shy to ask you to sit with him while he plays or to inquire about your latest book and his smiles and conversations flowed more freely. 

he enjoys your presence. it’s easy to be around you. he wonders why. even with all the progress he had made with you, he was still terribly awkward around new people and his social battery was limited. he never got tired of hanging out with you though, in fact, he craves it always. yuji says that it’s because you’re pretty, which choso can’t disagree with, though his brother’s statement irritates him for no good reason. 

he finds himself wondering if his brother knows you the way he does, silly things about you like which animal crossing character you would reincarnate as or the fact you hate grape flavored anything—it all tastes like cough syrup!--he can hear you say. no, he gets to see the real you, the one you reserve just for him. so yuji can think you’re pretty all he wants, but he’s the one who gets to see your breathtaking smiles in reaction to something he said.

“bro?! still there–or are you too busy being jealous?” yuji snickers, relishing in the match he made. he knew choso would wake up with a babe like you walking around. 

“you’re a child. and a dick.” he huffs, aggravated by his spacey sibling’s acute sense of his feelings. “goodbye.” he taps to end their weekly gaming marathon facetime two hours short out of annoyance, confronted with the silence of his bedroom and his questioning thoughts about you. jealous? as much as he hated to admit it, maybe he was. he couldn't even picture the thought of you being with someone else, try as he might. did that mean he wanted to be that person? your person? he’s so confused, but he knows even if he’s embarrassed he can talk to you about it. you could help him work through his feelings and come to a solution. even if the feelings were about you, he knows you would always be honest with him. he sighs, deciding to make his way to your room down the hall. 

you two didn’t spend a lot of time apart now that the bond had been created, and you were more than alright with that routine, because on fridays, choso holed up in his room for five straight hours to facetime yuji and play video games giving you some much needed time to yourself. you always started with a long and intricate shower, doing all your different exfoliants and masks. then you’d touch up your nails and give yourself a total spa treatment, finishing up by putting on your cutest little panties and releasing some of the pent up sexual frustration for your roommate that you keep under lock and key for the same reasons you were hesitant to cross into friendship territory all those months ago: you don’t want to scare him away. 

so you settle for your own small hands cupping your chest and pinching at your nipples, trying to picture him. It’s choso’s large and veiny hands that run down your sides and spread your legs instead of your own toying with your underwear. you can smell the versace eros cologne he wears wafting through your nose, almost able to hear his gravelly voice in your ear praising you for doing so good. it’s almost embarrassing how easy it is to conjure the image of him sinking between your thighs, lust pooling in his violet eyes. you’re soaked already, feeling the fabric of your panties sticking to your cunt just at your active imagination. you peel them off, hissing as cold air blows across your middle, but your fingers quickly find the heat of your hole, gathering that natural lube to flick your clit with. your eyes are closed—whining helplessly already at the sensation you bring yourself with him in mind. it’s nowhere near the real deal, but the bliss is good enough to lull pants of his name from your mouth, body light as air.

choso doesn’t think anything of your closed door. you told him you keep it closed to let him have his space, not wanting him to feel like you’re watching or eavesdropping on him while he’s on the phone. especially as he got close enough to reach for your door handle, hearing you call his name. you sounded…strained? in all honesty he was worried. so he doesn’t hesitate to push the door open a bit, peeking to check. his heart drops into his stomach at the sight of you naked on your bed. you’re stunning. he’s seen pictures of other women—and yuji showed him a few websites—but your body was second to none. his hand flew to cover his immediate hard on, shocked you hadn’t noticed him yet. fuck, you are gorgeous, one hand squeezing at your breast, the other playing around in that squelching noise he hears between your legs. he fights the urge to moan aloud or announce his presence, and he’s ashamed of himself. he feels like he’s betraying your trust, but his dick keeps growing in his pants at the chants of his name spilling out of your lips. he watches as your legs jerk and your head falls back against your pillow, making him think you were almost done. he had to get out before you saw him or felt his unique energy so close to you. he’s panting as he shuts the door quietly, turning the knob just so it wouldn’t alert you. 

his dick hurts as he makes it just one room down—the bathroom. perfect. he turns the shower on immediately, stripping his clothes off like they were on fire. he had set out to talk to you, to be completely honest about the thoughts he had been having, but seeing you like that did things to him words could not. he’s been horny before, of course, and dealt with that the way single human men do. but this—the desire coursing through his veins—this was different. so different. everything was clear now, he needed you. he stands with his back under the water, whimpering as his dick throbs to the mental image of your glistening pussy and blissed out face. he can’t help but close his fist around the his wide shaft, stuttering out a sigh in relief. he strokes himself to the same rhythm you moved your fingers, imagining how that pace would feel with your wet and warm cunt hugging him in instead of the rough surface of his hand. his other hand keeps him braced on the shower wall, steadying him through the searing heat the promises of your touch seem to be; to think that you were calling for him, thinking of him in the way he thinks of you now felt like a dream. he had to be hearing things, that’s the only excuse the man can summon. water beads down his biceps and chest, and it just makes his dirty deed all that much more so, fucking into his fist until his load is running down the side of the tub, the pearly beads getting swept away in the water and carried down the drain. he tosses his head back in the shower stream, his long black strands sticking to his face and neck as he tries to rinse away his shame. 

that night, choso doesn’t come out of his room to watch a movie with you before bed. you pout, but try not to linger on it too long. maybe yuji took a lot out of him today, or they didn’t have a successful time on and he was moody. either way, you weren’t going to bother him. you hang out on the couch like usual with the hopes that he would emerge soon, but as your bedtime nears and everything remains still, you slink off to your room with a sour mood to end an otherwise normal day.

as the days pass, choso’s behavior gets weirder and weirder. it’s almost as if he’s completely reverted inside his shell he made when he moved in, only emerging to get food when he had hoped you weren’t around. the times in which he did inevitably run into you were dealt in nervous laughter and denials that anything was wrong with him. it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he was lying, hiding something from you even. you were slightly hurt that he didn’t trust you enough to talk to you, instead of going backwards and shutting you out. you wanted to wait it out, but as the days turned into a full week, you feared losing him altogether. 

you stewed over the situation the entire time you were at work. you couldn’t even get anything accomplished because you were too preoccupied wondering what you had done to wound your connection. spending your days alone was maddening. a little over a year ago, you would have relished in the peace and quiet, but now it was unwelcome. you only wanted quiet if it was filled with the subtle sounds of pages turning or the buttons of a controller smashing or shared breathing during the climax of a show. this was haunting, and you knew you had to do something. you left work early, faking a stomach ache in order to get home and corner choso into relenting. no more miss nice roommate. you were tired of letting him be all weird and distant. so you walked in unceremoniously, not necessarily out to scare him. you shake your sandals off by the door and walk towards his room, noting that his door was actually open for once. 

that was only because you weren’t supposed to be home for three and a half more hours, giving choso plenty of time to relive his dirty fantasies of you with the least amount of guilt possible, though he could barely look you in the eye these days. if you weren’t home, he could at least not worry about you catching him in his perverted acts, only dealing with the shame that flows in after he’s came for the millionth time to the image of your legs quivering and mouth parting in pleasure. he didn’t hear you sneak in–didn’t hear you shuffle down the hall to poke your head around the doorframe. he was dead to the outside world, his hips stuttering into his hand, thumb swiping the pre-cum that beaded there around his slit, stroking himself with whimpers of your name tumbling out, his eyes scrunched tight in concentration. 

your jaw was on the floor, never in a million years imagining that he even knew how to touch himself like that, not to mention the prayers of your name on his tongue, mirroring the ones you make for him on fridays. he was massive, it had you covering your mouth in shock. even with his huge hand, it seemed like pumping himself was a tall task. you couldn’t imagine trying to do it yourself, you’re not even sure two hands would do the trick— you must have gasped aloud or something, because suddenly his head snaps toward where you stand in the doorway. 

“y/n–you’re–” his dark eyes are wide, his lips parted in realization that you had really caught him jerking off and mewling your name like a helpless perv. as the guilt starts to creep in, the haze of need and desire clouds his mind. he never lets go of himself, all too aware of your lip between your teeth and your hardened nipples poking through your top—no, you shouldn’t be seeing this, you shouldn’t even be home yet! not to mention how ashamed you should be of your own roommate rutting into his hand.

“...i’m home.” you whisper back, a slight smirk creeping onto your face. despite the red blush spreading across his cheeks, he keeps fucking up into his hand. it’s salacious, and you can feel your body responding to the sight, unsurprisingly. you’ve been picturing him naked for months, and not even your lewd imagination gave him justice. every plane on his body was sculpted and defined, thick veins running down his arms and thighs and cock. he left his hair down, some of the strands tucked behind his ear, some of them hung over his brows and cheekbones. he gulped when he noticed your stare, your eyes locked on the thick cock in his hand, curved with an angry and needy tip. 

“y/n, i’m so so sorr–” he scrambles to sit up, the heavy reality finally sinking in. he was awful, sick in the head, you were going to have him pack his shit immediately, and he’d have to tell all his friends why you had gotten rid of him. 

“need some help?” you spit out, unable to tolerate the pounding in your chest and pussy. his eyes grow impossibly wider, blood rushing in his ears. did he understand you right? he couldn’t possibly. 

“wh-what?” he sputtered, sitting up slightly to try and hide himself from view a bit, as if you hadn’t seen every bit of him already. 

“i asked if you wanted my help. you were saying my name, weren’t you?” you tease gently, stepping further into his room, your hands innocently folded behind your back. now that you know your desire is shared, you felt confident enough to push your relationship further yet again. he nods hesitantly, watching you stalk over to the bed like a lioness about to pounce.

“i–yes, it’s not what you think. i know it looks–” 

“like you were jacking off and thinking about me? is that not…what you were doing?” you hum, pausing by the foot of his bed. you look so cute, he has to believe you know what you’re doing, folding your arms under your voluptuous chest just to taunt him a bit more. you have him backed into a corner, and he either had to admit the truth or come up with a very clever lie. and he is not a gifted liar. 

“i–yeah…” he looks away, feeling the shame weighing down on him now that you had confronted him with the undeniable truth. 

you chuckle warmly. “i do the same thing, ‘cept I’m thinking of you.” you shrug, the smirk growing on your face as realization seeps into his. he didn’t misunderstand you that day or even earlier in this conversation. you want him too. he swallows thickly again, remembering the day that started all of this. 

“i–i know, i saw you, last week.” he chokes out as you take your top off, revealing yourself to him. He’d noticed your lack of bra earlier, but didn’t expect to be blessed with the sight of your body again, especially as you bend at the hips to wiggle out of your pants. Your laughter surprises him again, like he had intentionally made a joke. but it was only because he had solved the mystery that led you to his room in the first place, and that would potentially resolve any secrets you had been keeping from one another. 

“so that’s why you’ve been avoiding me?” you scrunch your nose at him adorably as you crawl onto the bed, his eyes glued to the body that had him locked in his bedroom day and night. “oh choso, i wish you would have interrupted me…i surely woulda let you help me.” you purr, so close to him that he could reach out and touch you now, and he definitely thinks about just grabbing your hips and pulling you down on him, finally feeling that glistening pussy for himself—to hell with his imagination, but your voice interrupts his thoughts again. 

“so, do you want me to help you, baby?” you glance from the hard length in his hands to his deep purple eyes, swirling with something you recognize very well to be deep desire. 

“please–” he whimpered and let his hand fall away from his pelvis, looking to you like a pathetic boy getting his teenage dreams fulfilled. Your grin grows wide, and you lean closer to brush your hand across his toned abdomen. he lets out a pleased little grunt and his cock jumps at the simple touch

“you’ve never been with anyone, have you?” you asked, faces so close he can see every freckle and dimple and scar on your skin. he shakes his head. you peck the tip of his nose. he’s already shivering, the feeling of your body leaning over his was exhilarating. your kiss was so simple and sweet, but it stopped all the thoughts in his brain. he was just malleable now, ready to let you make him feel good, finally shifting from imagination to reality. “need you to talk to me, so i can know where you’re at, cho.” 

“no, no..never.” he shakes his head again, eying you with excitement and nerves all at once. he wants to touch you, and you’ve already stripped naked and kissed him, so surely there was no going back now, so he reaches up and places his hands on your hips—so light like he was afraid to hurt you. 

you grin at both his answer and his courageous touch, nodding your encouragement, “that’s fine, i’ll help you…just do what feels natural–you can go as hard as you want., and tell me if you want to stop.” your eyes blink at him sweet he realizes he would trust you with his life if you asked. 

“okay.” he lets your words wash over him, nodding as he grips your hips a little tighter. he’s more than embraced his fate, his mouth watering a bit at the idea that you were in his bed and offering to make all his fantasies come true. you were expecting him to keep that deer in a headlights look, but when you rake your fingernails across his chest, you watch his eyes darken a bit more. “kiss me?” 

choso looks so cute, you couldn’t deny him if you wanted to. his eyebrow raised with innocence, but his eyes shrouded in arousal. you giggle softly and lean up, sliding your hands over his pecs and shoulders and into those dark locks calling your name. you tug, and he gasps softly. you take that opportunity to cover his parted lips with your own, his head falling back to accommodate you as you fully crawl into his lap. he melts, you feel and taste so impossibly good he’s concerned he may bust over the kiss. your tongue moves so expertly against his, twirling around and sucking on the muscle in a way he didn’t know people employed. then you’re sitting on his abs, and he can feel so much at once. his eyes blow wide in the kiss, and he has to pull away to gasp again and see what you’re doing to him. 

you’re simply sitting, your pretty shining pussy rubbing against his core and his dick teasing the crack of your ass. that must be what’s driving him insane, the warmth and softness providing some but not enough friction. you wiggle your ass a bit to tease him, and he whimpers. the sound is so sweet and low you know you can’t handle playing with the shy little virgin much longer.

“i–is th–that sup’posed to f-feel that go–ngh, good?” he stammers, the hold on your hips bordering bruising. he doesn’t even realize, and you certainly don’t mind, so you only smile and nod down at him, reaching for his chin with your fingers. he makes you look so small without even trying, the broad expanse of his body, wide jaw and thick legs—not to mention the monstrous cock rocking against your behind, your own need soaking his happy trail to the skin beneath. you move his gaze from your sensual movements back to your sultry gaze. yuji was wrong. pretty was such a mild way to describe the woman on his lap. you were more a kin to a goddess, something not fully human like him. 

“i was hoping to give you the full treatment, but i don’t think you’ll mind if i skip to the main event?” you bite your lip, your other hand scraping at his scalp a little bit. no, of course he didn’t mind. sometimes you were so silly. he nods fervently, remembering that he needed to find his voice, to not seem like such a coward when he wanted this so badly. 

“no—please,” he whimpers again, feeling the drip of your liquid on him. it dawns on him then that you’re just as needy, and you still wanted him even though you’d have to teach him what to do. you didn’t seem worried, maybe it was easier than he thought. but all he knows is that his balls are starting to hurt and he had never felt more buzzed in his entire life, sensitive to every move you make. “i need you so bad, oh sh–” 

you scoot back, lifting yourself up a little to align him with your entrance. his whimpers and begs were so fucking amazing, you wish you had it in you to milk it. you make the mental note to keep him begging when you show him what it feels like to have his dick sucked or whimpering when he eats your cunt for the first time. he’s so heavy in your hand, and you can’t even close your fist around him. it makes you shudder, knowing that you’re going to make him fit inside you no matter the stretch. his tip was so red and irritated, oozing pre. you swiped it over his head, humming in amusement as he jerks and whines at the feeling. 

“you’re massive, d’you know that?” you pout, sinking down a few inches. he moans at first, feeling like his cock was fit into a perfect sleeve. it’s unreal, the heat he feels in his gut as you rock further down on him, whining at how huge he was. he watches the pained faces you make halfway down, the concern clear on his face. he didn’t know he was that big—he hadn’t really been comparing, but if it was hurting you, he wondered what he could do. he remembers watching you play with that sensitive spot at the apex of your thighs, using your own slick to glide around. he thinks he could replicate that, so he sticks his fingers in his mouth, spitting a bit to make sure they were just as wet as you were. you take more of him, almost to his base all while panting and bracing yourself on his chest with your eyes screwed shut. he reaches toward you, swiping his fingers around the place he watched you toy with. you gasp out and sit all the way down, the noises you make as he touches you make his eyes widen again. 

“god—i’m so full, baby.” you nod, your hips moving forward automatically, searching for more of that searing feeling he brings to your clit. he surprises you, moving his digits in slow circles as you get accustomed to his size. he chokes slightly when you squeeze him, his eyes zeroed in on your face. 

“are you alright?” he asks softly, feeling your nails dig into his chest as your hips move faster now, any other words he had wanted to say sucked from his brain like he had no thoughts at all, nothing other than that vice-grip of a pussy you have locked around him, bouncing softly and leaving little half-moons in his skin. 

“mhm, just had to stretch a bit t’fit you, are you alright?” you grin as you ask, knowing he would struggle to respond—in the best way possible. he nods eagerly, eyes flickering from where you swallow him up to your soft face of bliss. 

“are you kidding? i’m—” you rock on him a bit faster, the feeling of wet and choking walls rubbing every possible spot had him sputtering, unable to speak. he’s only able to watch you run a hand through your mane, keeping it out of your face and away from your bouncing tits. he’s in heaven. being with a woman, no, being with you, was as all the eternal bliss he cared to know. 

his hips start to move, the hold he has on your hips trailing up to the curves of your waist to better hold you down. he didn’t realize how much more intense he would make this feel for the both of you, grunts and whines spilling from his lips as you begin to cry out and yell. it’s heavenly, the way you let him drive into you, leaning forward with one hand on the headboard and the other tugging his head towards your chest. he contains his pathetic pants by sucking your nipple in his mouth, laving his tongue over it, mind so drunk and hazy he can only be driven by his primal instincts, flat footed on the bed to plow into you from below. 

it’s so perfect. you scream his name way better than he ever imagined, and he doesn’t mind to bear the scratch marks of your passion. you keep squeezing around him, and it drives him crazy. 

“i–i love when you do that—clenching down on me like that, fuck.” He grunts, slowly getting his knees under him while you sloppily keep the pace. he uses the leverage to ease you to your back, though you don’t have the luxury of pillows or a headboard, only the mattress beneath you as choso realizes this positioning lets him piston his hips without you having to do any work at all. you’re wailing, nodding to keep him from worrying about you as you continuously claw at his back and shoulders. 

“choso baby—” you whine in such a way, he knows he’s going to bust in seconds. “you’re gonna make me cum, please–doin’ so good, ngh—ack!” you cry, legs tightening around his waist as he feels a significant increase of your fluids. feeling and watching you cum by his doing was the nail in the coffin—the way your face screwed up in pure pleasure brought him his own, his pelvis stilling against the mounds of your backside, cock twitching against your womb before your vision is blurry, and all you feel is warmth seeping out of you. his load leaked out around him inside you, his cock still pulsating with no signs of dying down. 

he smiles at you a little shyly, his cheeks rosy and eyes hazy with the aftershocks of such a gripping orgasm. he watches your chest heave as you calm down, your eyes fluttering open and a smile spreading across your face as you look up at him. 

“what do i do now? to take care of you?” he asks, absentmindedly stroking the creases where your thighs meet your hips. you giggle and shake your head, knowing it would take multiple rounds for his erection to die down. 

“i show you the full treatment now, baby.” you grin, wiggling your eyebrows. 

choso found himself immersed in exploring himself and your body, discovering several new kinks to enjoy with his sweet little roommate turned lover.

[rodolfoparras]

Tbh no idea why people hate omegaverse so much, it's so delicious in every way possible and there's so much storytelling potential that it's insane.

Also both you and Elijah have me going insane and feral with your posts today I'm just.... growling biting at the bars of my enclosure at baby trapping posts. And I've been thinking of pregnant Simon since you responded to my post last night and I'm haunted by how much I need him to have my baby. He'd look so beautiful too 😔

He just needs to retire and be my house husband and I'll take care of him and make sure he goes to therapy <3

-🔮

🔮 anonie you have thoughts going inside my head rn bc I can’t help but imagine ghost who’d never thought of having kids he wasn’t cut out to be a father according to him, and the only father he’s come across was the piece of shit he was related to and maybe even Price who has offered a helping hand whenever he needed it

But then he meets you and you’re so good around kids, whether it’s because you have one of your own or a younger sibling and he can’t help but imagine what it would like for the two of you to have one together

It’s insane it really is he understands that, he does dangerous work where he can’t guarantee he’ll be back in the morning, he’s not cut out for the role and besides the two of you have only been dating for a couple of months.

But everything changes one day when the two of you are out at the park with your nephew or younger sibling or kid in tow,

You’d ask ghost to watch over the kid while you went to get the three of you ice cream suddenly someone came up to him, told him what a lovely little family he has, even jokingly says how the two of you make handsome dads , but just as he’s about to correct the stranger you come up behind him with a bright smile on your face, thanking the stranger for their kind words before handing him his ice cream cone

“You’d make a great father you know?” You say staring ahead, where your nephew or whoever is climbing the monkey bars

He scoffs, but ducks his head to hide the blush on his face “doubt that”

You don’t push it any further, dropping the conversation and moving along to talking about something else but it doesn’t leave his head and all of a sudden he can’t help but imagine how he’d look with a bump, if the kid would have his or your eyes, and oh then there’s the way he’d find himself googling different types of positions in bed that would ensure the person got pregnant, he’s just doing research you know nothing serious, and more often than not he finds himself too lazy to take his birth control, keeping you inside him for hours because it’s comfortable and not because he’s hoping for something more.

And when he goes to take a pregnancy test that just so happens to be laying around in his bathroom and it turns out to be a positive one, he can’t help but feel an overwhelming amount of fear but also an overwhelming amount of joy because he knows with you by his side he can do just about anything

[melonn-soda]

Hi i saw ur reqs are open and i adore your writting so much!

i wanted to ask if you could write jealous diluc x sub male reader headcanons? a one shot is good too tho! again i love ur writting!!

❝JEALOUS DILUC w/ M!READER HCs...❞

Order up~!

word count: n/a

warning(s) - he gets possessive

prompt - title is self explanatory

note - giggling and kicking my feet rn ur so sweet🤭 btw u didn’t specify whether or not you wanted it to be nsfw or sfw so i just wrote both for u

fem aligned dni

SFW Headcanons...

i’m gonna use kaeya for this bc i feel like he would do this just to pester his brother

so you’re at the angel’s share, right? diluc’s working the bar and everyone’s chatting each other up

kaeya would be talking to you dropping not so subtle suggestive remarks that you simply just brush off your shoulder

diluc would be glaring so hard at him bc he knows his brother is being an ass

if it was anybody else though…

you are in for a ride

you may take that wording sexually and metaphorically

he would stop everything he’s doing to try and pry the stranger off of you no matter how far he has to go

but since it was kaeya he didn’t really care that much💀

some things he would do would be interrupting your conversation, go up to you and kiss your cheek, arm around your waist, arm around your shoulder, any thing to show he has possession over you

he can’t let his cute boyfriend go and find someone else other than him

“diluc.. why are you acting like this?” you pouted while whispering, looking over your shoulder to gaze at his fiery red eyes, his arm around your waist as his hands squished at the soft flesh.

he didn’t bother to answer, brows furrowed angrily as he watched kaeya walk off with a smirk on his face, feeling proud that he managed to piss off his brother once again.

“diluc.” you called out again, tugging on his jet black coat with fancy gold embroidery. no answer once again, “diluc..!”

his eyes snapped to yours, almost flinching at his death stare. it was definitely directed at you because of the way he dug his nails into you, a yelp sprouting out from your mouth in surprise.

“keep trying this again and i’ll have to take matters into my own hands.” he growled, your face flushing at how deep his voice had gotten.

“yessir..”

NSFW Headcanons [cw: spanking, he gets pretty rough in this]

will drag you to the bedroom by the arm

however diluc ALWAYS asks for consent idc idc

he will edge you for what feels like hours as a punishment, using more toys on you than you have fingers on your hands

either that or he will bend you over his knees and spank you like the little brat you are

when you’ve finally learned your lesson, he’ll make you ride him being all sore and shit

he’s kinda a sadist but that’s just my thoughts ig🤷🏽

and when you can’t do any of that anymore then he’ll just fuck you dumb

multiple rounds

i’m not exaggerating when i say multiple 😭

like about 3-5 depending on how much he wants to claim you for his own

but dw he’s really good at aftercare and stuff like that

expect lots of snuggles and he’ll clean you bc he’s just respectful yk

however at the end of that he’ll say something like, “you belong to me no matter how many times i have to remind you.”

you moaned shamelessly as your insides where being absolutely destroyed by the man on top of you, his hips smacking against yours deliciously. diluc was angry. angry and very jealous.

how dare you go and just act like that man wasn’t just flirting with you? you were his, all his. nobody else’s. even if he had to carve it into your brain you both knew that you could never find someone better than the tavern owner himself.

“ngh! ah- diluc, can’t-!” you sputtered out, clawing at his back with blunt nails. he was going to fuck the thoughts out of you at this pace.

“shut up… you don’t get to make excuses after pulling something like that. you are mine.” his cock pressed repeatedly on your prostate, making you nearly scream as you cried into his shoulder, “i’m the one that can- ahn- you feel this good”

you groaned, feeling yourself getting closer to your release, “mmmngh! yes, i’m yours! don’t want anyone else but you!” you slurred out, tears blurring your vision of him.

im not the biggest diluc liker so i’m sorry if this seems like garbage (also i was just blasting viva happy while writing this)

[havocskies]

HOBIE BROWN HEADCANONS | NSFW

im iffy on writing actual smut bc id be reconsidering a lot in my life during it but i am not above writing headcanons xoxo

honestly this is kinda jst me rambling but oh well take it anyway

╭──╯ . . . . . ༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶ . . . . . ╰──╮

• definitely wouldn’t be aggressive but not against throwing you around just a little (if you’re okay w that obviously)

• i don’t think he’d be absolutely nasty. like he’s clearly a bit freaky, he makes a joke abt biting in his intro but i can’t see him being crazy ??

• sony let us know he’s into biting n everyone jst ignored that we need to think abt that more.

• not entirely serious. he isn’t above making a few jokes every once in a while, especially if you’re a bit nervous

• back to that though if he tries to initiate something and he sees you’re even slightly unsure or nervous ?? it’s off. he’s asking what’s wrong immediately and if it’s solvable great, he’ll solve it if it isn’t it’s off. he has no problem leaving you be if you aren’t up to it, there’s no convincing involved

• wouldn’t be into anything extremely degrading, aggressive, or violent. to him that’s porn culture and he wants absolutely nothing to do with it, even if you asked. i just don’t think he’d get off to anyone being seriously hurt

• however he has no shame with a BIT of pain. he did make a biting joke so i mean

• i think light choking would be the worst he’s automatically willing to do or receive. ofc he’s willing to talk but it’d have to be a very detailed talk abt what both of you are okay w doing/receiving

• honestly i jst think talks like that wld be important to him in general. he doesn’t wanna overstep any boundaries, especially not during something as big as sex. he’d never try to introduce you to something before having a genuine conversation about it first

• aftercare is peak w this man. godsend. you’ll never get any better

• not rough all the time. yg write him to be like absolutely insane n aggressive in bed n i jst can’t see it. like hobie never once even raised his voice unless it was loud, like in his intro. nothing abt him was ever aggressive. i think maybe he’d have no shame being SLIGHTLY rough but i don’t think his intention would be to hurt you/see how much you can take ever

• i think most of the time he’d be pretty normal. he’d be paying complete attention to you jst to be sure you’re comfortable always, he’ll stop immediately if you aren’t

• honestly he’s probably a switch, i can see it. he has no problem giving or receiving, though there wld still have to be some talks abt some things LMAO

• i see comments on edits (even mine) abt how he switches positions a lot n it lowk made me giggle. i think he definitely would on occasion just to catch you off guard, but his whole hating consistency thing imo was a joke jst to mess w miles, half the things he said in his intro were to mess w miles

• probably not very experienced but he knows enough and learns fast. like i don’t think he would be into hookup culture or even care abt sex much but he isn’t clueless, yk ?? he knows what he’s doing at least

• doesn’t really ask for head. if you bring it up, great !! he obviously won’t complain ☠️ but to him i think it’d be more of a bonus, not something he expects from you

• i don’t think he’d be into rough head either. to him it’s about what YOU’RE comfortable doing and what YOU can do. he isn’t going to force you into doing anything. like if his hand is ever on your head it’s to hold your hair back and/or just love on you

• like i said he doesn’t really get off to seeing you struggle

• also idk if it’d be pierced. would he be above it absolutely not but that also involves a stranger handling and piercing your dick. if he did it himself, then maybe

• sex to him isn’t as important. he isn’t going to be all distraught if you aren’t ready or you jst don’t want to. it’s jst a bonus to him, obviously it’s important but your needs and thoughts are SIGNIFICANTLY more important to him than what he jst wants

[nevernonline]

✧.* twenty-seven?; ksy

synopsis: you always wanted to be considered a ‘serious’ journalist, but to get the chance at moving up the ranks and getting to produce your own stories, you’re get an idea to do one final story and impress your boss, that’s where inspiration strikes with the one and only soonyoung.

part of my ninety minute movies one shot series. ♡︎

paring: hoshi x fem! reader. 

genre: strangers2lvrs

warning/s:mentions of substances (alcohol, weed, cig, vape etc.) swearing, very bad jokes!, just fluffy and nice no seggsy time

word count: 8.4k

content: . non-idol idolings, some other svt members. hoshi is down bad fast xo.

note: my next little inspired movie writing is the icon that is 27 dresses. except instead of our female lead being the one in the wedding its my fav tiger (hamster) soony. I just love sappy cutie soonyoung so I apologize in advance. also unedited bc im a loser srry. it shouldn't be tew bad bc I tried to take my time lol. ily.

Finding a cozy spot at a table to the left of the bride and groom, you flipped open your notebook and started jotting down pin points on the decor, the flowers, the bride's beautiful flowing silk gown, and the way the groom looked at her with stars in his eyes. 

The first dance song rang around the room gathering all the adorned looks of friends and family watching as another couple took the leap on spending the rest of their lives together. 

A rocks glass was placed in front of your pen and paper as the chair next to her was suddenly filled with the stranger who put it there. 

“Taking notes for your own wedding?” 

“Oh. No, I'm doing a piece for the Daily on their wedding.” 

“Are you y/n l/n by any chance?” 

“I am. You’re familiar with me?” 

“Yeah, just through the bride. She’s my sister. She talks about you nonstop. I’m Soonyoung, I was the one who contacted you.” 

“I see. Nice to meet you. What’s the drink for?” 

“Working hard, I figured you should at least enjoy yourself a little bit.” 

“That’s nice. Thank you.” 

Soonyoung stared at the girl across from him, trying to catch a peak at her notes seeing if she was painting this night in a perfect light.

You caught on and shut the book quietly, giving him a small wink as a shout it would be everything his sister wanted. 

“What’s the drink?” 

“A vodka soda, lemon.” 

“So, you know my drink order? Thought you said you didn’t know who I was?” 

“I saw you at a wedding a few weeks ago, my friend Seungkwan. I noticed your drink, that's all. That’s how I got your contact actually.” 

“Lying on the first meet, a great sign. No wonder you look so familiar to me. You were the best man right? But blonde at the time?” 

“My sister would’ve killed me if I was blonde at her wedding and sorry not lying just felt creepy admitting it. 

“I liked it.” 

Soonyoung laughed remembering the conversation he had with his sister about his hair. 

“So what’s it like being in two weddings in one month, Soonyoung?” 

“Actually I’m going to be in three. Next week my coworker is getting married. Which would make my wedding count twenty-six.” 

“You’ve been to twenty-six weddings?” 

“Yep. After next week anyway. What’s your wedding count?” 

“Ones I’ve covered? Too many to count. Ones I’ve been in? Two I think. Both of my brothers are married. That’s about it.” 

“So you cover weddings but aren’t married?” 

Rolling your eyes at his unfiltered nature, you couldn’t help but feel like his question was out of curiosity and not judgment. The way his eyes searched hers for answers was genuinely adorable. 

“Almost at one point, but he cheated on me and is marrying her now. I didn’t actually become a journalist to cover weddings anyway, it sort of just happened.” 

“I see.” 

“What about you? Being at all those weddings and never getting married?” 

“No. Not even close, I was in love with the same girl for a long time, but she didn’t feel the same way.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” 

After spending the rest of your night enjoying Soonyoungs company, you bid goodbye to the bride and groom and headed back to your home to get down to working on the article. 

Digging through your black leather tote you realize you forgot to take your journal home with you, leaving it on the white table cloth being distracted by a new friend. 

Realizing you don’t have his number you took it upon yourself to stalk his social media profiles in hope you could find a way to get in contact with him, maybe he was your saving grace in taking your book for safekeeping until he could give it back to you. 

Saying fuck it for now you just began typing away about your night, thanking god or whomever that you backed up your calendar digitally when you get a clever idea to write an article still about weddings, but about the person you met who had been a groomsmen all those times. Searching for any kind of photos and videos of his past times supporting nuptials. 

All you came up with was a couple cheesing photos of him posing in his suits of many colors and types when you get the idea to go back into your own rolodex of photos and writings from weddings you’ve done in the past, noticing him standing near the bride and groom in just a few it was now safe to say he has piqued your interest even more than before. 

You decided to draft an email to your boss begging for the chance to write her an article about the types of bridesmaids and groomsmen who’ve been involved in many years of weddings as a support, if you found one person who had done so many in a short time it wouldn’t be hard to find more right? 

Before getting ready for bed you sat refreshing your email waiting for the go-ahead to investigate Soonyoung further with the excuse that it was simply just for work, it took multiple scrolls to the point where your thumb was starting to hurt from running it over the screen until she replied. 

‘Y/n, feel free to start drafting up the story. If I like it I’ll let you have more creative articles in the future. Please have it on my desk in two weeks.’

When the morning finally arrived, you had to make the rough decision to get out of bed and head to grab a coffee from the shop in your apartment lobby. Normally you’d be cuddled on your couch with your cat, spending your Saturday morning reading and watching reruns of your favorite reality shows, but much to your surprise the coffee stash you usually have stocked has dried up. 

Exiting the silver doors of the elevator a call came from the front desk attendant and you were met by a brown paper bag tied with a bow, the outside scribbled on with some crayons of silly faces and drawings of cartoon tigers, stickers of hello kitty, and a pink note taped to the handle. 

“Miss. Y/l/n! Some boy dropped this for you last night.” 

“Oh? Thank you, Max.” 

Ripping open the small note in line for your morning brew, it instantly puts a smile on your face.

‘Hi, I noticed you left this on the table. Hope it’s not weird. I dropped it off for you. Your address was inside. At least I can stalk you now. - Soonyoung (wedding guy lol)” 

Inside the bag was your planner and a few random pieces of candy thrown around. A small bookmark was placed on a page and written underneath was a date for next Thursday and the number of your new favorite subject marked ‘single seeking wedding date.’ 

After grabbing the paper cup from the barista behind the counter you whip your phone out and dial the number written inside your prized possession. 

“Hello, is this the single seeking a date?” 

“Hey, it is. Is this the cute girl who’s planner I found?” 

“I think so? I don’t know any other cute girls who like going to weddings.” 

“Are you available for drinks and a little pre-wedding party?” 

“When?” 

“Tonight.” 

“Tonight? Wow. Eager to see me again I see.” 

“I am. And I’m being bold right now which is new for me, so please don’t make me cry.” 

“Aw. But I’m sure you’re so pretty when you cry.” 

“I’m always pretty, y/n. So?” 

“Sure. Why not?” 

You heard Soonyoung gasp over the phone and drop something loud. 

“Really?” 

“Want me to take it back?” 

“No. Cool. I will.. pick you up at 6:30? We can get some drinks before and then it’s just like a casual party, but my friends are kind of fancy so maybe like nice cocktail attire. I’m sure you know.” 

“Okay. I’m sure you remember where to find me? After all, you did confess to being a stalker.” 

“Oh my god. I was kidding, don’t take me seriously. I’ll see you then.” 

“See you, Soony. Ok now I’m corny. That wasn’t meant to be a pun. Bye.” 

Hearing the boy's laughter over the phone almost gave you butterflies. 

“You’re funny. Bye.” 

Spending the rest of your normally relaxing afternoon getting ready to slyly interrogate your new friend, you decided to not go out of your way to look overly special after all you weren’t even sure this quote on quote date was anything romantic or just a way of initiating a friendship. 

Just before you leave your front door you sat to think if it was appropriate to bring along the same journal that was delivered to you the same morning, but made the conscious decision to leave it behind and not make this first night getting to know each other about you digging into his life for your own gain. 

The ride down the elevator had you inspecting yourself in its small safety mirror, fixing the very last strand of hair that felt out of place on your head, not paying any attention to the people jumping off and on from their various floors. 

When you finally stepped out into the marble covered lobby, you immediately spotted Soonyoung draped over the side of the couch holding his legs close, almost like a nervous child looking around the room and pouting because he can’t find his toy. 

When he finally locked eyes with you his childlike demeanor changed immediately into a spunky puppy, jumping up from his seat and dusting off crumbs on his pants that weren’t even there in the first place, maybe to wipe his hands from their small sweat they were undergoing. 

“Hi, y/n. You look very nice” 

“Really? So do you. Where are we headed?” 

“There’s a cool poet themed bar just like two blocks from here, I thought you’d enjoy it since you’re a writer and everything.” 

You looked at Soonyoung with wide eyes, it was a sign of how considerate he was yet again, just like the thought he put into bringing you, your planner and decorating the bag. 

His sharp brown eyes sparkled under the street lights, almost like they were reflecting stars, his baggy khaki pants with matching jacket slung perfectly over his frame, he was cute. You could admit it to yourself that something about him was magnetic and you already wanted more. 

“Y/n? Is that not your thing? I’m sorry we can do something else, I shouldn’t of assumed all writers like poetr-“ 

“Oh I’m sorry, I was distracted. Has anyone told you that you have insanely cute eyes? But yes, poetry’s cool. I’m more of a classic novel girl, but it sounds fun. Stop second guessing yourself. You’re good.” 

Your hand moved faster than your brain as you brought it up to pat him gently on his shoulder, a confirmation that you were having a good time and trying to ease his awkwardness. 

“Yeah, people have once or twice.” 

“Good. They really are cute.” 

The pink of Soonyoung’s cheeks grew into a deep red as he led you into the bar. The walls were covered in decaying pieces of paper written with words people had to get out for comfort. The smell was like the oldest library on earth, with a tinge of vanilla and vodka ringing through. 

Your brain took a moment to be present and remember all of the bad dates of your past. Maybe this wasn’t a date of your future, but if it was, he had already exceeded your expectations. 

As the waitress took your order, one Body Electric for your new friend a legit inspiration from Walt

Whitman to your choice which was a play on a Sylvia Plath poem. 

“Are you a lightweight?” 

You looked at Soonyojng not even halfway through his drink, feeling the ease and warmth of his body next

to you. 

“How can you tell?” 

“You relaxed for the first time tonight.” 

“I was nervous to hangout with you. I’m sorry. You’re just cool and pretty and I don’t know I feel like you’re way smarter than me and I’m intimidated by that sober” 

“I’m sure that’s not true. But if it’s any help I was nervous too.” 

“Really? So I have game?” 

“No. But you’re so cute I’d die if I hurt your feelings.” 

“So you’re a lightweight too?” 

“What? No way. Just honest to a fault.” 

Soonyoung smiled into the rim of his glass before taking his final sip and prompting you to finish your drink quickly, which you happily obliged. 

“Okay, on the way there.. I have to admit something. The party we’re going to is for the girl I liked before she got with this guy… it’s like unrequited love in a way.” 

“The girl you said you don’t love anymore?” 

“Yeah. I’m sorry I dragged you into this. I just wanted to see you again so I thought it was a good idea.” 

“I’m down. I’m not sure what, but I’m down.” 

“Cool.” 

“Want me to pretend to be your girlfriend? Or? I feel like it would be weird to say we were on a first date.” 

“Is this a date?” 

“Is it not?” 

“It was meant to be and it definitely is now.” 

“So pretend girlfriend, Soony?” 

“Maybe not an official girlfriend, how about… fourth date?” 

“Okay, have we had sex?” 

Soonyoung choked on his own spit which caused the two of you to end up in a fit of laughter on the street as you reached your next destination. 

“Obviously.” 

“That’s fair. I’ll tell everyone you were good.” 

“I think I love you.” 

“Shut up.” 

After spending the night waltzing around and parading your further long relationship with your fake new boyfriend to his friends in hopes to prove his fondness for his newest engaged friend has gone away even slightly. 

While maybe you were pretending to be on a date with Soonyoung, your head was spinning. If this was a fake date it was better than any date you had previously. Stepping outside to take a break from the party inside you pulled out your phone, jotting down notes and small nuggets of information you learned about Soonyoung’s past wedding experiences. 

“Taking notes on me? What are you a PI?” 

Behind you, you hadn’t realized the door you snuck out of opened and the boy had followed behind, curious if you were okay. 

“Yeah, you’re under investigation for being overly nice. Sorry.” 

“What do they say? I didn’t read them, just saw my name.” 

“Just some antidotes I want to remember. Nothing crazy.” 

“Do you want to leave? I’m starting to reach my alcohol limit and I would rather die than have you see my drunk alter ego the first time we hung out.” 

“Yeah, come on, let's go.” 

Going back through the back exit, you tripped behind Soonyoung’s tall frame grabbing onto his shoulder and giggling before he stood in the way of you hitting the ground. 

His lips were curled into a goofy smile. 

“I swear to god if you say something about me falling for you, you will get punched.” 

“How did you know?” 

“That fucking goofy smile you have on your face right now, I could just see it brewing in that head of yours.” 

“Okay, I don’t like that you’ve already figured me out. Let’s go, klutz.” 

Before you and Soonyoung could exit back into the fresh air, a familiar face appeared in front of you. Your ex boyfriend. Something about this night clicked for you, it was his party, there were so many people around and the only person from the wedding party you met was the bride. But taking a breath in and looking around the room, you realized how stupid you were to not see all the signs that this party was for him. 

“Y/n? Hoshi? Hey, how have you guys been?” 

Soonyoung still holding his arm around your shoulder gave a small back and fourth look between you and the tall boy who knew your name. 

“You guys know each other?” 

“Yep. Hi, Jihoon.” 

“I didn’t know you knew Hoshi either?” 

“Oh well we just started dating, he invited me to come hangout.” 

“Dating? Wow. I didn’t know you had time for people outside of work anymore.” 

“Jihoon, if you don’t mind we have to go now. Thank you for the open bar and this amazing time chatting, congratulations on marrying your hookup. Goodnight.” 

The start of your walk with Soonyoung was pure silence, there was an obvious elephant in the room and you could tell he was just itching to talk about it, so you decided to prompt him. 

“You’re curious aren’t you.” 

“Yes. But I don’t want to ask you to talk about it because we’re having fun. So I figured I’d try to ignore it.” 

“It’s fine. I’m curious too actually, it’s kind of funny that the girl you liked was hooking up with my boyfriend and now they’re married. And by funny I mean actually funny and we just spent the whole night not knowing that.” 

“I didn’t even know that Jihoon had a girlfriend when they first met, he never said anything about it.” 

“I don’t blame him actually, I do work way too much. I just wished he’d broken up with me instead of cheating on me for a month.” 

“When did you guys break up?” 

“Last December.” 

“Oh.” 

“It was more than a month wasn’t it?” 

“I think so.” 

“Cool, cool, cool.” 

“That’s fucked up y/n, I’m so sorry.” 

“That’s okay, we weren’t supposed to be together and his new girlfriend or future wife whatever seems like she’s really nice.” 

“She is, but she’s too nice. She does everything he wants, maybe he couldn’t handle your independence.” 

“Soony. You caught on that I’m a bad bitch?” 

“Have you met yourself?” 

“No. But, if I did I’d be obsessed with her and hate her at the same time.” 

“That’s exactly how I feel.” 

You punched his side, before stopping and realizing you had come up to your front door. Not even worried about the way your feet were aching to get out of your heeled shoes. 

“This is me.” 

“I know. I’ve been here like three times now in less than twenty-four hours. I’m starting to believe you actually think I’m stupid.” 

“Not stupid. Just silly. I’ll see you again right?” 

“I mean I did put days on your calendar to schedule out time for me.” 

“You littl-“ 

Suddenly you were cut off by Soonyoung’s hand covering your mouth to put a stop to you cursing him out. 

“I won’t take no for an answer.” 

Sinking your teeth into his hand he retreated from his momentary confidence quickly, looking at the proud smile you were sporting, pointing your well manicured finger in his face. 

“Don’t tell women to shut up, Soony.” 

“I never said shut up, you were going to call me a mean name and I’m sensitive. Go back to calling me cute.” 

“Maybe. Next time.” 

You went in for a one armed hug when all of the sudden Soonyoung came in with both arms, clinking your heads together. 

“Very smooth.” 

He liked the fact that you constantly teased him while making light of situations, regaining his confidence he pulled you into his embrace enveloping both arms around your shoulders, placing a small kiss on the part of your forehead that crashed into his. 

“I’ll see you next week.” 

“What’s next week?” 

“The wedding, check your planner. Well actually I’ll see you in two nights because we have to shop or go through your closet so we can match! Bye, y/nie.” 

Caught off guard by the kiss on your head and watching him hail a cab like it was nothing, you couldn’t help but smile on your way into your building, met by Max at the front desk beaming as wide as you and giving you a wink.  Knowing that he saw the cute and awkward interaction you shared with the hyper hamster outside. 

The two days in between you and Soonyoung’s first official interaction, you felt yourself looking forward to seeing him again and being in his presence like your own personal serotonin boost. 

The insane fact that your ex was marrying the girl he cheated on was enough, but the girl being Soonyoung’s painful crush? Especially when you felt he was becoming yours was beyond insane. 

You made up separate drafts of your article about the people who make weddings shine, from the families, the bridal parties. the insane bachelor and bachelorette nights, and mainly Soonyoung’s love for love. 

The two works of nonfiction were from different perspectives, one being your head and one being your heart. You couldn’t decide if it was appropriate to present a piece basically claiming how amazing you found Soonyoung for the whole world to see when you’re not even sure if he’d ever consider you to be more than a silly writer girl y/n, his friend or fake girlfriend. Your other was from the space of practicality, a genuine love letter to your career and the person who inspired this story, but also digging deep into the ideals of how frantic and selfish the wedding industry can be and what it means for an unmarried friend to take in burdens constantly for their loved ones when it takes a toll on their own heart. 

The biggest debate in your body was the fact the real article, the one you wanted to write, was at the fault of someone who had only in the short space of two days made you feel again, but it was honest and genuine. 

You knew Soonyoung had to have some pain working and being a part of a wedding for the girl he saw himself marrying. 

Luckily you have another few days to decide which way it’ll go. 

Sitting on the thought of what one you should put out, you were awoken out of your thought bubble to a string of buzzes from your cell phone sitting face down on your desk. 

None other than the boy that had been living in your head for the past 48 hours. 

Soonyoung’s texts were multiple lines of photos and silly messages asking you which outfit he should wear that could match any of the dresses you had hanging in your closet for the wedding. 

One of the options was a beige suit, simple in theory but something about the way he styled it with a funky sage green t-shirt and matching sneakers made you smile. Even if you didn’t have anything to match this outfit you would make an effort to go out and spruce up your wardrobe to be on his level. 

After quickly responding that it was your choice, he retorted back in his true fashion you’d have to send him your options too or he’d come over to help you. 

In a desperate subconscious way you agreed to his antics. 

Now nearly an hour later a call came from the front desk that a visitor had arrived asking for consent he could come upstairs which you happily agreed assuming it was none other than Soonyoung himself. The person on the opposite side of the door was not the sharp eyed boy you’d expected, but Jihoon. 

“Why are you here?” 

“I wanted to see you after the other night, I just wanted to say hey.” 

“Okay? Then text me. Don’t come over unannounced, I have a friend I’m expecting.” 

“You wouldn’t have responded.” 

“That’s true.” 

Standing with your arms crossed in your doorway not letting Jihoon into the now redecorated apartment you once had let him live in, you weren’t budging on your gut feeling to let him in and talk. 

“Can I come in?” 

“Like I said. I’m expecting a friend. So.. no.” 

“Who? Hoshi? You guys aren’t seriously together? He’s not your type, too goofy.” 

“Isn’t he your friend?” 

“He’s Nana’s friend, but he’s okay. I’m just saying it's not your style.” 

Nana? A stupid nickname for his fiance who’s name was simply Anna. So as you rolled your eyes and shut your apartment door behind you as you stepped into the hallway as a clear defining factor he was not welcome you stood far apart from him as a line in the sand. 

“He’s not goofy. He’s sweet and yes he’s on his way so maybe you should leave before saying anything else so he doesn’t get the wrong idea.” 

Jihoon wavered a bit, looking towards the elevator door at the end of the hall as if like a movie Soonyoung would walk out of the elevator at the mention he was on his way over. 

“Maybe take the stairs. I’ll see you at your wedding with my date.” 

Rushing in and slamming the door in his face, you sink to the floor in a moment of pure exhaustion over interacting with someone like your ex. 

Why wasn’t Soonyoung right for you? Why did you not want that to be true? And why were you so dead set on proving him absolutely wrong? 

In your rush of emotions another knock came to your door. Without looking through the peephole you swung it open rapidly. 

“Look I told you to g- oh, Soonyoung! Thank god.” 

Your body made a move before your head could even catch up as you ended up hugging him tightly, rushing him inside as if Jihoon didn’t get the message and was watching in from a hidden spot in the corridor. 

“Y/N are you okay?” 

“Yes. Sorry, someone just came over that I did not want to see. Welcome.” 

You watched as his eyes took in the view of your pink and green splattered apartment, things like funky vases full of wildflowers, plant tendrils floating down from shelves tucked between books of various sizes and ages, a small nook with sleeping white and black cat hid inside snuggling into his stuffed toy. 

“I love it here.” 

“Really? I redecorated recently, it was cold before. I love it now.” 

“Also it smells amazing, do you bake? It smells like cookies and coffee. Wow.” 

“I do not bake, but I do have candles that give the illusion. What’s in the bag?” 

Soonyoung set a small black duffle bag down on the counter and began pulling the contents out one by one, showing them off like a beauty guru. 

Wine, five small bags of potato chips, beer Incase you didn’t like wine and he was unsure, a slice of delicious looking chocolate cake, and a container marked with your name of his moms homemade soup. 

“Why did you do this?” 

“I thought we would have fun while picking out matching outfits. Will you let me see your closet? Please, please, please. I’m so curious.” 

“It’s not that impressive at all.” 

“If your apartment looks like this then I have only the highest expectations for you.” 

Smiling, you jokingly made a come on motion with your fingers and led him into your spare bedroom that now existed as a half home office and half closet. 

His eyes took in even more of your fun design work, the racks of records, pictures of you and your friends, and one of the things that made him feel like he could fall in love with you, your rack full of limited edition shoes and bags. 

“Not impressive? You have some of the coolest shit I’ve ever seen in here?” 

“I’m just a girl with a cat and a lot of time on my hands. Since being single I’ve just spent it on shopping and ordering take out.” 

“If you don’t mind me asking what were you and Jihoon like together? You guys seem really opposite to me.” 

There it was again, someone not right for you. Was it just in your head that you think maybe you’re the problem of why this comment is being made? 

“Uh, we were okay at first. We met in college about three weeks before graduation and spent so much time together. But if I think about it, we just hung out in his dorm where I watched him play video games and watch anime even though I was not interested. I kind of wish I was more outspoken about it. I missed a bunch of things my friends had done wasting away on his futon drinking shitty cheap alcohol and waiting on him hand and foot and whatever else.” 

“Really? So you guys dated for a long time I guess. Did it change a lot once you got out?” 

“Not really. A lot of people knew we were ‘dating’ but in the time that we did, we probably went on one or two actual dates.” 

“That makes me sad actually.” 

“Why? I made the choice to do all those things. At least I don’t have an ugly poster of John Lennon on my wall just to show I loved him.” 

Soonyoung was set off by that, laughing and imagining you having a photo of a musician on your wall to impress your boyfriend. 

“What’s so funny? Haven’t you done anything embarrassing to impress a girl?” 

“Definitely. Too many to choose from actually.” 

“At least you're charming, I came off as obsessive and stupidly in love. Not a good look for me.” 

“Caring too much is never a bad thing when you think you’re in love and you’re charming too.” 

“Why thank you good sir.” 

“And you’re weird. Which personally is a green flag for me. I didn’t expect that from you actually.” 

“Is that a compliment though, really?” 

“For me? Yes. I don’t like normal people well, not normal people I guess, just people who have no personality or something I can learn from. I want someone as a friend or whatever else to challenge me a little, it’s healthy.” 

“I think that’s really cool of you, I agree. I like people that are willing to try new stuff or get me out of my comfort zone.” 

“Was showing me your office a way of me getting you out of your comfort zone?” 

“Sort of. This is kind of like my safe haven.” 

Soonyoung just gave you a wide toothed smile, beaming from ear to eat that you admitted he was even just slightly somewhat of your type. 

As the night went on and on the boy that has now broken down a couple of your walls, not quickly but brick by brick was sitting comfortably next to your cat curled up in the same manor helping you pick out something that would go with his two outfits, one for the wedding itself and one for the rehearsal dinner which he promised you that you’d only eat and leave to have more fun just out of respect for the couple and his friend Anna. 

Now each of you taking the bottle of wine he brought slowly, sitting on your floor surrounded by shoes and loose pairs of pants, giggling over nothing he stared in your eyes almost like you could read that he had another interrogating question. 

“Was Jihoon the one at the door before?” 

“How did you kno–” 

“I can’t remember you mentioning anybody that would come over unannounced and make you look as upset as you did.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Do you know why he was here?” 

“He just gave me some stupid antidote that he wanted to see me after the other day, I didn’t ask further. When I told him I had a friend coming over he just knew it was you for some reason and then told me we couldn’t be dating seriously because you’re not my type? As if he’d know? It was weird all around.” 

“Do you still have feelings for him?” 

“No. I realized once we broke up and now after knowing he was cheating on me more than a few nights that it was an amazing decision. When we first ended it I just kicked him out and ghosted all his texts, he used to update me on his life every now and again, the last time we talked for real, before today he called me crying that his Grandmother was sick, so we just had a brief talk and it ended for real there. I genuinely never thought I’d see him again.” 

“Also, am I your type?” 

Ss wine dribbled down your chin you were once again surprised by Soonyoung’s random fit of confidence. 

“Yeah. You’re nice and I love how annoying you are. I think you get under my skin in the best way.” 

“Wow. I’m surprised you admitted it.” 

“What can I say, wine drunk y/n is honest.” 

“And what about my physical type? Sexy, cool, handsome, the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen?” 

Taking a note from his book you swung your closest arm to him, you clipped your fingers over his mouth and shut him up. 

Much to your surprise he took a note from your book and instead of biting your hand he stuck his tongue through his lips and licked your fingers which caused you to lunge towards him further, jokingly pissed he did just so. 

As you were fighting for comedic relief you sat suddenly face to face with him holding onto your wrists to resist more thrash fighting. 

The two of you stared at each other filling the room with intense tension of your lips being so close once again. 

“If I knew you wouldn’t be mad at me I’d kiss you right now.” 

“Soonyoung, you’re so stupid. Why would I be mad at you?” 

“So I can kiss you?” 

“Nope.” 

Soonyoung pushed his bottom lip out from his top, replacing his cute puppy face with a pouty one. 

You decided to quickly dive in and pace a peck on his protruding bottom lip. 

He immediately let you go and erupted into a fit of giggles like a little kid, as you tried to sneak away quickly he grabbed onto the arm of your sweatshirt which you quickly unzipped and slipped out of, running through the door of your office and into the rest of the house as he chased behind. 

“You have to know I’m going to catch you for that, that was so mean y/n.” 

As you were winning the fight, getting away from the boy chasing you around, you suddenly tripped up and felt his hand grasp your shoulder, turning you around with secret strength. 

Standing face to face with him now, your stubbed toe throbbing through your fuzzy socks, you both were holding in a whole lot of laughter. 

Soonyoung’s hand slipped behind your head and pulled you in for a much more romantic type of kiss than you gave him before. The two of you touched lips softly, as your smiles were still prominent on your faces. 

Before anything could escalate further your phone began to ring again and your boss's name was plastered over the front, which you answered with panting breaths still in a haze from kissing the boy you made you feel young again. 

“y/n? Hi, would you be able to send over a draft of your article you begged me for? We were looking for something to print for tomorrow if you’re interested? I’ll have someone expedite the editing process tonight.” 

“Oh, shit. Yeah of course, I’ll rush and email it to you now.” 

“Thank you, congratulations y/n.” 

“Thank you. Bye.” 

Oh my god, Soony, stay here. I have to email my boss quickly about my article, she wants to print it for tomorrow's paper. I’ll be right back.” 

“What? Congratulations. But don't worry, I’m not leaving.” 

“Good, sorry, be right back.” 

Rushing back into your office you flipped open your computer and sent your final article draft, choosing the one that your gut felt would be better for your personal life at the moment, especially after the kiss you just shared with the boy it was about. 

Typing a quick message along with your attachment you just said a big thank you and clicked send before grabbing the half drank bottle off the floor and ran back to Soonyoung munching on a bag of chips waiting for you. 

“Shall we celebrate?” 

“What are we celebrating?” 

“Me, idiot. I’ve been trying to get a real article published ever since I got the job doing weddings. I love weddings, but always being so happy and cheerful and not getting a chance to stretch my creative juices is frustrating.” 

“Can we also celebrate kissing? That seems more fun.” 

“Shut up, asshole.” 

Taking a swig from the bottle, you passed it over to your male counterpart and watching him take an equally large drink matching your energy. 

You and Soonyoung spent the rest of the night talking about how tomorrow will go, where will you and he be sitting, will Jihoon be giving you side eyes or talking shit with some of the other guests. How nice of a chance it’ll be to experience a wedding simply just enjoying with someone on your side and not for work. 

After sitting in bed and still thinking about your kiss with Soonyoung many hours later, you saw a text from your boss letting you know she loved the article and to watch out for it in the morning. 

When that finally rolled around, you woke up to a lot of messages congratulating you and your new found success, many people from college, your parents, but the one person you were looking for was nowhere to be found in those texts. 

Putting the praise aside for a moment, you slipped back out of your bed to jump into the shower and start getting ready for your dinner celebrating the devil that was your ex. 

When you stepped out and went to grab onto your device once again you saw a text from the one person you were most excited to read, but it was less than exciting. Soonyoung expressed how upset the article made him and accused you of using him to further your career, something Jihoon supposedly warned him of the night of his pre-wedding party and he chose to ignore. 

Confused why he would be so upset about your praise for him, you ran to your front door and ripped open the pages of the paper only to find the article that you sent was a mistake, it was the one shitting on weddings, basically claiming Soonyoung himself was an unmarried loser, not in those words but you could see why it came across that way. Some of the simple moments of praise for his hard work were cut out in the editing room, only leaving the small bits of gossip and harsh criticisms sprinkled in between. 

Rushing back inside as your stomach sank to the floor you tried his number three times before getting no answer. Which made you frantically dial your boss’s number and interrogate her on why parts of your article were cut out, she simply answered that fluff doesn’t sell and she was proud of you. 

Soonyoung not responding had let you in on the fact that he wasn’t going to be seeing you today or maybe even seeing anybody for that matter, he was embarrassed and rightfully so. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

Continuing your quest on trying to reach him, you decided to still get ready for your night out, maybe not in the intense matching outfit way you wanted to last night, but just something where you could sneak into Jihoon’s wedding party and slide Soonyoung the real article you wanted him to read. 

Running down the street to the venue with no accurate directions in sight, you saw your ex standing on a corner, smoking a brown wrapped joint in his suit. 

“Jihoon. Jihoon.” 

“What? Back to grovel for a favor?” 

“Yes, please, just give this to Soonyoung for me. Please, I’ve never asked you for a favor like this, just once do something for me.” 

“You’re really serious about him?” 

“I am.” 

“So you didn’t mean to slam him in the article like you did?” 

“No. My boss cut out the good parts of the article, this was the one I meant to send. Just for me. I want you to be happy, Jihoon, I do. I want it for myself too, just please give it to him. Make sure he reads it.” 

“Okay.” 

“I know we haven’t had the best past and I know I'm coming here askin- Wait? Okay? Really?” 

“Yeah. I can tell this means a lot to you and the reason I came over today was just to formally invite you to the wedding. You’re a big part of my life and now Soonyoung’s, well maybe, besides the point. My fiance is one of his best friends, she liked you too, that was the only reason.” 

“Oh. Well I don’t think I’ll make it.” 

“How about you come on official business and give this to him yourself?” 

“No. I couldn’t do that. It’s your day not mine.” 

“We both deserve a big love, y/n.” 

Taking back your enveloped letter, you couldn’t help but be impressed by how mature Anna had made Jihoon become and you knew he was right. Sometimes love just falls in your lap and you can’t do anything about it. 

Ashing out his joint, he handed you the other half as an olive branch to celebrate old times and bid you goodbye until tomorrow. 

Before going back inside, he turned to you with one final wish. 

“You better look damn good tomorrow too, no suits. Wear something nice to confess your feelings, otherwise you’ll look like a dumbass.” 

“Got it.” 

Catching your breath and shoving the letter and paraphernalia back into your purse, you decided to take Jihoon’s advice. To look amazing, you stumbled upon a shop called ‘All's Well that Ends Well.’ situation just a block down from the poetry inspired bar Soonyoung took you to just a few days before. 

Stepping inside the store, the first thing you saw was a navy blue dress, the halter neckline and the silk straight flowing down to the floor, you knew it was meant for you. Especially because it would match the light pink suit Soonyoung was meant to be sporting with you by his side. The easiest shopping experience of your life. 

As the sales associate packed your order up and sealed it with a light pink bow, you knew it was a sign or something of the sort. 

With less than twenty-four hours of doing the most insane thing of your life, confessing to a man who essentially hated you after you had been kissing just hours before, you stayed up all night, using the weed that Jihoon gave you to stay focused on the task at hand, you almost considered cutting of your hair to enter a new era of your life, but only girls who were going through something would consider that and you attempted to tell yourself you were calm. 

When the morning sun rang around you finished writing a letter to match the one already placed in the envelope to accompany your sorry. You even decorated the outside with stickers of tigers and spongebob characters just to make Soonyoung smile. 

Sliding into your navy blue dress and silver heels, your hair was down and curled into perfect waves. You kissed your cat on the head and made your way over to the venue by foot, just to give yourself a little fresh air and piece of mind, hoping to slip in early enough so that you’d be seated before he even knew you came. 

Slipping into a space near the back of the room on Jihoon’s side, you opened your phone to an encouraging text from him telling you that you’ve got this and he’s excited to hear more about it later, plus reminding you to have fun and enjoy yourself. 

As the progression started you watched along with the other wedding goers, catching glimpses of Jihoon’s smiling family, which made your heart feel warm. 

As the wedding part waltz down the aisle in their pastel pink suits and rosy toned dresses, you saw a now blonde again head appear on the arm of a girl who looked a lot like Anna, so it was fair to assume it was her sister. 

Soonyoung didn’t glance your way, but something about the change in his demeanor made you aware he knew you had come. 

“Everyone please rise for the bride.” 

Anna walked out with her father on her arm, floating across the room like an angel in white. Her dress was adorned with small beaded flowers from the tips of her fingers down to the vail over her blonde hair. 

She was truly beautiful, you couldn’t help but feel like a peasant in the room with this woman who both of the men you had either once had feelings for or now did once loved. 

The whole ceremony was beautiful, but you missed a lot of it as you stared Soonyoung’s way trying to catch his eyes, but he never met yours. He was too busy enjoying the fact that his friends were getting married and the fact you had upset him. 

When the ceremony ended you followed the other guests to the front of the church, holding your envelope in your hand and greeting the bride and groom, Anna and Jihoon beamed at you before she pointed her finger to a room off the side of the front door, some sort of administration office where Soonyoung would be waiting for you. Which also told you Jihoon had filled her in on your little plan. 

You cracked open the old wooden door, trying to be subtle but the rotting wood creaked under the old floor boards making your entrance more known than you would’ve liked. 

Soonyoung was seated in a red leather chair to the side of the desk, his now blonde hair meeting your eyes before his face. Not giving in to turn around and look at you. 

“Soonyoung? I know you probably don’t want to speak to me. But, this was the real article. It was never meant to be that way. I’m sorry.” 

You placed the letter in front of him on the desk and moved to turn back to the door before you heard his voice. 

“So you didn’t mean all those mean things you wrote about me? That I was a desperate groomsman waiting for his shot to have a day for himself?” 

“No.” 

“You didn’t mean to say that my ostentatious nature was cringe worthy?” 

“Not in that way no, my boss cut out all the good things I said about you. She put it in her own words for dramatic effect. I quit this morning.” 

“You quit? Why?” 

“I wanted to try to make this right in the best way I could, she wouldn’t reprint the article how I wrote it and told me that if I didn’t like her style I should get a job somewhere else. So I quit.” 

Soonyoung just nodded, he couldn’t imagine why you would give up a golden opportunity just to prove your boss wrong or right for that matter all because of him. The only way he could make sense of what you were saying is that you were truly sorry and you cared about him. 

He made a bold move and threw the letter in the trash can to the side of the old oak desk and got out of his chair to hug you. 

“You’re not going to read it.” 

Speaking into his shoulder, you got a calming exhale of his cologne. 

“I don’t need to. I know you're telling me the truth, you said it yourself you don’t lie when you drink wine, and I can smell it on your breath.” 

Slipping your hands up from their place around his neck into his hair you giggled slightly, looking at the now dyed blonde locks of hair. 

“You dyed it back?” 

“You said you liked it. I thought you’d be my date and I had the appointment so I didn’t want to cancel.” 

“You weren’t hoping I’d show up here?” 

“I knew you would. I saw you talking to Jihoon outside last night through the window. I wasn’t sure exactly because you did walk away and he never told me what happened. But, when I saw you today sitting in the crowd. I knew my inkling was right.” 

“Did the cohesive outfit impress you? I missed one night, but I hope I made up for it today.” 

Soonyoung pushed you away slightly by your shoulders and made you do a spin for him. 

“You look beautiful.” 

“You’re such a dork.” 

Soonyoung playfully swung you around in the office covered in photos of church go-ers and crosses, bringing you into his chest tightly. 

“So, what did you write in that article? That I was devilishly handsome and cool?” 

“Nope. Just that you were a bad kisser.” 

“Seems like you need a reminder.” 

“Maybe.” 

As your lips met Soonyoungs once again your heart sank into your stomach and was beating rapidly. You just fit and he never once doubted your heart. 

“What do you say? Should we go outside and dance?” 

“Can you even dance?” 

“Y/n? Can I even dance? What do you even think I do for a living?” 

“Oh. I’m such an idiot. Anna works at a talent agency. Got it.” 

“Come on, silly. Before our audience outside gets bigger.” 

When you exited the office back into the group of people outside, for some reason Jihoon started a cheer alongside his new wife. 

Soon you and Soonyoung were dancing the night away and drinking a little too much than your stomachs could handle. 

When you finally got a moment of dizzy drunkenness alone, he had you sitting on a bench where he knelt to the ground. Your mouth got the better of you once again. 

“Oh my god you're not proposing already are you I mean I know I’m amaz-” 

“Y/n shut up, I’m tying my shoe.” 

“Cool, cool. Got it.” 

“But the next wedding I attend hopefully I’ll be the groom.” 

With a wink Soonyoung sat back at your side as you watched the stars together, making a mental note that the next wedding would belong to the both of you.

taglist: @sahazzy

[sku11s1asher]

hi! i loved what you wrote for my request 😭 it was so cute, i didn't really specify it bc i forgot but yeah u did it amazing <33

and yeah u can totally make a part 2! actually i was thinking about it bc i can imagine a meeting between furina and the natlan archon while neuvi and reader are just giving glances to eachother 😭 reader looking like a total meanace but in his mind like "damn he's handsome" almost burning his cheeks and the seat lmao

neuvillette x m! reader (part 1)

note: ngl i feel like i do good at posting then smth with school pops up and i don’t post for like a month.. sorry y’all. also please tell me im not the only one who’s been on and off sick for the past month, rn i have a runny nose and a sore throat AGAIN. i just got over that like, barely 2 weeks ago.

tw: y/n is a bit of a weirdo with his thoughts since he doesn’t understand anything w/ love, internal homophobia (not really but kinda?), y/n is all over the place

After centuries of fighting, killing, and not showing emotions to anyone, all that can end because of a guy with beautiful long hair. The more y/n thinks about it, the more embarrassed he gets. He’s known for being a fearless and intimidating warrior, just for that whole facade to disappear just over a man out of all things.

This whole scenario came into place because his nation archon just had to have a meeting with Fontaine's archon, Furina, at least y/n thinks that’s her name. The meeting consisted of figuring out how to make the justice system within Natlan better and a way to make transportation easier between the two nations. y/n didn’t pay attention to the little details, he was only there to ‘protect’ his archon and make sure things went smoothly.

However, he didn’t realize that the other archon would be bringing a guest with her until a day before the meeting. It did tick y/n off a little bit that he would get notified so late but does it really matter? All y/n is doing is protecting and making sure everything doesn’t go south.

Well, it did go a bit south, as soon as Furina's guest arrived, y/n's mouth went dry. That man did things to him that he didn’t even know could happen. Maybe it was the long hair on the other man that made y/n feel warm inside, it definitely couldn’t have been the slight scent he had. No, definitely not.

Okay, y/n takes that back, he feels like he’s getting intoxicated by the proximity of the other male. It wasn’t hard to figure out that the guest, was a dragon, all it took was a quick look and a secret deep breath to figure it out. He had it figured out, his body wasn’t used to being by another dragon, and he hadn’t seen one in what, centuries? This feeling would go away in maybe 20 minutes, hopefully.

20 minutes later and y/n feels like he’s going to light the whole place on fire. His whole body feels like it’s melting, and to no one’s surprise, it’s all due to the long-haired man in front of him. The stranger might genuinely be the hottest person y/n has ever seen in his entire life. That long hair makes y/n want to run his fingers through it, maybe brush it, but that might be a bit too much to think about.

Once y/n saw the man look at him, he quickly looked away, how embarrassing.. he got caught staring hardcore. He took a deep breath before listening back into the conversation, “Ah, yes, I suppose it would do both nations good to do something like that. Maybe combining a bit of power.” the lovey talk of archons, always talking about power; like it’s the only thing that matters to them.

Power is important though, y/n is in the position he’s in right now because of how powerful he is. In complete honesty, he’s probably too powerful for his own good, only knowing how to use it to protect his nation from people deemed as enemies; even if they aren’t in the public eye. Power rules everything at the end of the day, nothing can function without power.

The more he listens into the conversation, the more he realizes he was glad he was never born as an archon; he’s been around one most of his life and it’s always been boring. Listening in did provide small details though, like the mysterious man’s name.

While y/n was somewhat able to keep his focus off of the other dragon in the room, he managed to not burn anything. But, he had a feeling his archon caught on as they gave him a questionable look; it was a very subtle one that only he could catch onto but it was obvious they knew something. Nothing is going on though, right? The man can’t help it if he gets a bit flustered whenever he remembers Neuvillette is near him.

Gosh, y/n probably looks like a blushed teenager who just confessed to his crush. Well, he at least thought he did. To everyone else though, he looked like he was on guard and was going to fight anyone who even took a step too close to his and the Natlan archon's bubble. y/ns hand accidentally gazed at the chair near him, which caused the leather to burn where his touch was. Good thing no one was looking, right?

y/n couldn’t wait any longer for this meeting to be over, his brain was thinking too many things while he was focusing on every single move everyone else did. It would be overwhelming for anyone who wasn’t trained and as skilled as he was, but that tiny overwhelming feeling didn’t compare to how fast his heart was beating. y/n hoped the other male couldn’t pick up how he was feeling, thankfully Fontaine's archon seemed to be happy with the deal she and the other archon came up with.

In Neuvillette's mind, he could tell that the fire dragon was on edge. He could also tell how much the dragon was staring at him, it was a little nerve-racking. Once Neuvillette caught a glance at the chair that was touched, it made him a bit surprised but he didn’t show it. Maybe he would talk to the other male after the meeting, for work-related things of course!

[gwojo]

Inumaki Toge as ur bf

FEATURING: Inumaki Toge (狗巻棘)

inumaki toge x gn!reader, fluff, slight angst if u squint, things he'd do if u fall in love w him! (more on how he falls in love w u) wordcount: 1,127

PS. i do know that inumaki can write normally but i prefer to add a little twist to it bc it's basically his signature manner &lt;3!

Toge's initial impression towards others is always being quiet, aloof and distant–intimidating at most.. when you were introduced as a first year student (after yuta), you were very intimidated with everyone around because it seemed like they already have created their own friend group, being left out was your current situation now.

Lately you've been feeling some stares around you whenever you were walking or just doing anything in general.. u were creeped out, like REALLY creeped out bc u couldn't seem to find where it was coming from.

A few days later, you've started being close friends with yuta and maki, you eventually opened up about being intimidated by their other friend who goes by the name "inumaki toge" saying that he doesn't answer anything u say and u took it wrongly by thinking that he was "ignoring" u

You later then realized he was born with the "snake and fangs" seal of the inumaki clan on his tongue and both of his cheeks (you were adoring him the whole entire lesson during class..) and that he couldn't be able to speak to others because of the possibility of harming them

But something was weird, if you and inumaki were always left alone he would somehow disappear the minute you blink?? AND IT WAS OFTEN so you asked for maki or yuta for advice

They told you something about how he's afraid he might have too much fun talking to you (he always adored and eavesdropped on ur conversations with yuta and he always ends up laughing) and he'd accidentally harm you with his technique.

On toge's pov, he obviously fell in love with u and had a slightly HUGE crush on you. On his side, he started making new words from other ingredients to confess to you which you'll never find the meaning about bc it's hidden to him only

everyday, you always saw little notes given by someone anonymous with ingredients written on them (u were confused at first and thought that someone had placed a grocery list in ur locker by mistake)

IT WAS SO.. painfully obvious for maki and yuta yet the both of you seemed so blind to see that u guys were both IN !!! LOVE !!! WITH !!! EACH !!! OTHER !!!

let's just say you guys ended up confessing in the end when you saw him putting the anonymous notes in your locker one day.. you confessed to him that you always knew it was him and knew what the meaning was behind to all those "grocery" notes he gave you

Let's go back to the time maki or yuta told you about how he didn't wanna interact with you because he was scared to approach you and might harm you with his technique because he'd have too much fun with you. you basically took note of that immediately and realized how protective he really is even if they were strangers, you dedicated a notebook for him which you wrote things that he'd say and what it would mean whenever it's being translated by yuta and made it your goal to be friends with him (you were lying to yourself that u only wanted to be friends w/ him)

soooo.. that's how you both ended up together.. you gave him your notebook that was dedicated to him and he saw the things you wrote about him everyday and the daily notes he gave you were all there, so you teased him by translating the things that was written there. AND TO TOP IT ALL OFF you confessed in riceball ingredients to show how much you've learned about him AND HE BECAME SOOOOOO FLUSTERED AND RED WAS ALL OVER HIS FACE.

hes a rlly shy boy tho, at the first few weeks of u guys dating he'll be hinting that he really wants to hug u, touch ur hair, etc.. but hes still sooooo clingy even when hes shy so u have to be patient with him when he can't tell u what hes feeling <3

NO ONE REALLY KNOWS THAT U GUYS ALREADY STARTED DATING BECAUSE HE'D RATHER KEEP IT PRIVATE BETWEEN U GUYS BUT ALSO WANT TO SHOW THAT HE LOVES U AND THAT URE ONLY HIS :((

apparently hes too shy but hes not embarrassed, hes just shy to tell the others because they were right, that u also liked him and he always made them stress out bc of him overthinking 24/7..

he probably would be the type to write poems for you every single day and once it gets to your first year anniversary, all of those poems actually have a whole new entire meaning once u stick them together

he loves playing minecraft with u and his friends, but he'd always find a way to excuse u both so u guys could only play together HAHA he really prefers to be with u rather than other people

He grew so fond of u to the point whenever he sees something that he knows you'll like, he'd always take a pic of it and send it to u so ur dms with him are always flooded with things that u like

much like yuji, arcade is his thing so its very crucial for him to add atleast a arcade date with u and a picture booth at the end of the day <33

we all know inumaki struggles to speak due to his immense cursed speech, and it has become very hard to express how he feels since hes a very expressive person towards u and he finds himself stressing out just because he cant apologize whenever he does smth wrong or whenever u guys are in an argument (which i highly doubt), and he feels so guilty not being able to express words of affirmation to you knowing that its also important in a relationship..

so pls pls be patient with inumaki :(( its already hard for him ever since he knew about his cursed speech and im very sure you guys will find ways to communicate better than just speaking with affirmation

you ended up buying him a soundboard for his birthday and he'd constantly played the sound "i love you" which has your voice in it..

texting is also very often even when you guys are together, you just basically grew into that habit of texting each other just to communicate ever since

his major call signs with you are: baby and love <33 (i just cant imagine him being serious when hes such a cutie)

he loves you very much because he would probably be one of the people hard to love especially with his cursed speech but you're different far from others and he really got attached with you and plans to never let go.

reblogs are appreciated! thank you for reading.

— © gwojo 2023. pls i advise u not to share on tiktok, plagiarize, repost on other platforms, copy, or translate.

[k4vehrtz]

Now That We Don't Talk

-> Pairing: eren yeager / gender neutral reader

-> Request: yes / no

-> Word Count: 2K

➷...Summary: you stick to what you know, and what you know is that no one loves you the way eren does.

-> Notes: took a little longer with this one to make sure it's accessible to everyone regardless of their gender ! if i made any mistakes please do let me know ! admittedly not proof read & in lowercase bc i was tipsy when i wrote it and then hung over when i edited it ;-;

➷...Content Warnings: sub/bottom reader. unprotected sex, exes to ?, oral (r giving), mild face fucking/deepthroating, oral fixation is heavily implied, finger sucking, cum swallowing, fingering, use of the nickname 'doll', dacryphilia, dumbification, creampie, implied tummy bulge, light degradation, reader's genitals referred to as: entrance/hole/heat.

you tell yourself that tonight will be different. you’re not hunched over your desk back in your dorm studying. you’re trying new things — like sitting at the makeshift bar in armin’s apartment, nursing a red solo cup of punch as music blares from speakers situated at every corner of the room.

and when someone takes a seat beside you, you indulge in a conversation with them. complaining about how loud the music is turns into sharing trivial facts about your lives. then that transitions into judging everyone’s costumes for halloween.

you didn’t dress up tonight; when you decided to attend armin’s halloween party it was already too late to buy a costume. neither did the stranger whose name you only just realised you never got. so, you both take it upon yourselves to be the judges of everyone else.

which is completely fine until he points out a familiar face. a face you knew you’d run into if you came here. it is his best friend’s house after all. but you make the conscious decision to push that thought to the back of your mind where it belongs. like you’ve been doing with every other thought of him.

before coming here, you had asked yourself: ‘how do i know when i’ve moved on?’ and now you have your answer. you know you’ve moved on when you’re having fun at a party with someone else. and even if you do run into eren, it won’t bother you.

but, the thing is, it does. it does bother you when those green eyes meet yours. when he has that expression on his face that you can’t quite discern. and especially when he turns on his heel, heading towards an empty corridor.

it makes you feel sick to your stomach. which is the only logical reason why you excuse yourself and head in eren’s direction. stopping only when you see him leaning against the door to the bathroom. you’ve been here enough times throughout your relationship with eren to know the layout of the apartment to a t.

and neither of you say anything — falling into a staring competition of some sort. both your gazes heavy with emotion. until eren looks away to open the door to the empty bathroom and you follow him inside. trying new things is fun, but old habits die hard.

eren holds your chin in between his thumb and index finger, tilting your head upwards so that your gaze meets his. “for fuck’s sake,” and he curses, more so to himself than to you, his voice coming out somewhat strained as he speaks, “we’re not playing this game tonight.”

and you swallow hard, leaning in closer against your better judgment, your lips mere centimetres apart. “it’s not like it means anything, right? we broke up, eren.” you counter in a last-ditch effort to save face. this is all your fault, really, you came onto him first, after all, but you’d never admit that.

“that’s where you’re wrong,” he scoffs, brushing his lips against yours, and you do nothing to resist, “it means everything, and you can call it a mistake in—” instead, you take the opportunity to initiate the kiss. sliding your tongue into his mouth with ease. and as soon as the initial shock wears off eren takes control, tangling his fingers in your hair as he deepens the kiss. it’s wet and rough at first, then gentle and slow, and you feel warmth erupt in your chest.

he has to pull away eventually though and you whimper at the loss of his lips against yours. for a moment it felt as though neither of you needed air, only each other.

“you know what? i don’t care if you think what’s about to happen is a mistake,” he grunts, his voice husky as he lifts you to straddle him. the pads of his fingers warm against your skin as he holds you in place.

you glance at him through half-lidded eyes, your mind in circles, as you ask quietly, “what…what’s about to happen?” it’s a rhetorical question, obviously, but you need to hear him say it.

eren doesn’t give you the answer you expect though. the corners of his lips quirk upwards into a lopsided smirk and he tsks. “one kiss isn’t going to make up for everything that you’ve done tonight,” narrowing his eyes at you, but there’s no malice behind the action. “...and if i recall correctly,” he says as he taps your cheek, “you like to use this little mouth of yours so why not put it to good use instead of bitching at me?”

it’s humiliating, really, how it takes everything in you to stifle a moan instead of some sort of witty comeback. only an hour or two has passed since you two first ran into each other and he’s got you wrapped around his finger all over again.

you can feel the imprint of his erection beneath you. throbbing against the constraints of his sweatpants. and your legs almost feel like jelly — the thought alone of having your mouth around him like that has you throbbing with need.

so, when he nudges your cheek again you scramble to your knees, positioning yourself in between his legs. curling your fingers around the waistband of his sweats and boxers before full-on pulling it down. his cock immediately springing upwards, hitting your face, and smearing pre-cum on your lips.

“if you’re not interested i can...” he teases, purposefully trailing off so that you interject: “no! i... i, i’m interested,” and he nods, clicking his tongue and mouthing what you assume is ‘get to it then’.

you hesitate for another minute or so, he’s just so big you don’t know how you ever managed to make it fit! before slowly wrapping your lips around the tip of his cock. it’s hot and heavy on your tongue as more pre-cum leaks out of the slit. and after another brief pause to adjust you begin to swirl your tongue around the angry tip as you slowly take more of his length into your warm mouth.

eren doesn’t rush you — he understands that it’s a challenge for you. but if he said that was his only reason he’d be lying. something about the way your lips are stretched around his cock, drool dripping from either side of your mouth, awakens something in him. it makes his stomach twist, makes his cock throb in your mouth some more, and persuades him to bring his hand to the back of your neck, pushing you down further on his cock.

by no means is it rough but you’re still caught off guard. your yelp muffled by his cock. and he smiles down at you, grunting as he controls your movements. the sound of your muffled moans together with his grunts echoes throughout the otherwise empty bathroom.

it’s not long before his cock is hitting the back of your throat with precision each time he thrusts his hips. green eyes fixated on you as you gag around his length, “take me so well, doll, you were made for this, not for runnin’ your mouth,” taking in the way your eyes brim with tears.

he doesn’t stop though, not until he’s cumming down your throat, and only then does he pull out with a pop, his cock slick with your saliva. you could’ve stopped him at any given time but you didn’t — you even swallowed every last drip of his cum.

eren leans down to wipe the few tears you’ve managed to shed, murmuring as he does so, “if i didn’t know any better i would’ve fallen for your little act. all you need is some cock to shut you up, right doll?” and he uses his fingers to make you shake your head ‘yes’. “but not just any cock, you need my cock.”

you don’t say anything, simply halfway glaring at him but he smiles because he knows he’s right. all you could think of is him and his stupid face and his stupidly big cock and how dumb you were to break up with him. but then again, you don’t even remember why you two broke up in the first place.

you’re dragged out of your train of thought, however, when he lifts you back onto his lap. holding you in the air just long enough to pull down your bottoms so that your bare crotch is flush against his slick cock.

he presses a kiss to your forehead, using one hand to hold you steady on his lap, while the other is dragged along your entrance. and you feel yourself shudder every time one of his fingers ghosts your hole — but that’s always as far as it goes. so, so close yet so fucking far.

“please,” you plead, and you almost don’t recognize the sound of your own voice. you sound so whiny, so desperate. eren moves his hand away, bringing it up to your face to cup your tear-stained cheek, “you’ve gotta use your words, love, how am i supposed to know what you want when all you say is ‘please’?”

you feel like you’re going to lose your mind but you give in to him; you always do. “please,” you repeat yourself, sounding a little breathier this time, “please put your cock in me, i need it.” fighting the heat that’s creeping up your throat all the way to the tips of your ears.

eren pulls his hand back to his chin as if contemplating your request in the most obnoxious way possible. he stays like that for a moment before leaning toward you once more, pressing his finger against your lip. “say ‘ah’ for me,” he hums, and you do exactly as you’re told albeit somewhat unwillingly.

he flashes you a smile, sliding his finger into your mouth and pressing down on your tongue lightly. “now get it all wet for, you can do that for me, right?” you nod eagerly, desperate to please him as you begin swirling your tongue around the salty digit.

soon one finger turns into two, then two into three, and then three into four. you’re so passionate about what you’re doing that it almost hurt eren to pull his fingers out of your mouth. but your dissatisfied whimpers quickly morph into a mix of gasps and breathy moans as he sinks his fingers into your throbbing heat one by one.  

eren’s usually more patient than this but as your desperation for him grows so too does his desperation for you. you barely have time to adjust before his fingers curl inside of you. thick digits working you open while the promise of his throbbing cock is just beneath you.

you’re so close to getting what you want. you feel your heartbeat in between your legs. and when he finally retracts his fingers, you let out a low moan. this is what you've been waiting for.

he slides his hands up to your hips, lifting you to align the head of his cock with your entrance before slowly pushing in. he looks in awe as you sink onto his cock. the more of him you take, the more unfocused your eyes become.

“that’s it,” he moans as he ruts into you, thoroughly enjoying the way your hands scramble to hold onto his broad shoulders and how the fat of your thighs ripple and jiggle with each thrust. “you were so mean earlier, but look at you now. you forget all your words when my cock is in this tight hole or down your throat?”  

you open your mouth to protest because that’s not true! but only a string of moans and little uh-uh-uhs escapes your kiss-swollen lips. you can’t even get a word out as he continues to piston his hips.

“i know, i know,” he whispers into the crook of your neck, bringing one of his hands down to your stomach. “you want to feel me all the way here, right?” and you shudder at the thought, the implication making you squirm. making you clench harder around his throbbing cock. he takes that as a yes it seems as he continues, “don’t worry, i’ll take care of you,”

and he does just that in his own way. continuing to rut into you until you’re sobbing at just how deep he is. you hadn’t even realized when you came the first time, your arousal splattered all over his thighs. but what you do know is that it isn’t long until you’re both cumming together.

[danikamariewrites]

what do you think about azriel x reader ddlg and their dynamic outside the bedroom? is she as submiss to azriel as usual? does the IC know their dynamic? if so imagine cassian teasing reader about what he heard then do last night, imitating that reader was calling him daddy. or is reader completely the opposite and is feisty, back talking and smartmouthed? i can imagine her sometimes pushing azriel to see if she can get away with stuff, like danicing with mor and some guy comes up but reader doesn’t push him away bc she wants azriel to react, and az is pissed bc he knows what she’s doing and punishes her in private🖤

Outside the bedroom hc

Azriel x reader

Warnings: ddlg, daddy kink

Azriel is a private person and can separate things in his life really well

The IC doesn’t know about their dynamic, at least not for a long time

You and Az want to keep that part of your love life to yourselves for as long as possible

This dynamic/bond you two have is special, especially to Az, and the last thing he wants is Cassian joking about it

With the IC and others you’re serious when you need to be but you can also have fun with everyone

You joke around and are def a lil snippy and sarcastic

You love joking around with Az, your sense of humor is one of the things that attracted him to you

Where Az is the one who’s very scheduled and things must be a certain way you’re chill and go with the flow

Whatever Az has planned you’ll go with it and it’s not so different outfit your ddlg dynamic

When you’re out at a bar or restaurant you do like to push Azriel’s buttons a little

Sometimes you drink a little more than you should but he just dotes on you extra the next day during your hangover

You touch him a little under the table

Or you whisper stuff in his ear and call him daddy

He’d give you that stern look which is your first warning for the night

Then he sees you dancing provocatively with Mor and Feyre which he lets slide but the raised eyebrow tells you there will be a conversation when you get home

If you’re really looking to push his buttons you don’t ignore the handsome stranger that comes up to you and Mor asking to dance

You never touch him, just dance around him

That drives Azriel crazy

When the male goes to touch you Azriel is pulling him away from you before the male knows what’s happening

Az whispers something in your ear as Mor laughs and he winnows you two home

The IC definitely just think it’s Az being possessive and have no idea the punishment you’re in for

[velvetydream]

꒰ :🥀 [ Meet by Fate - Welcome to Aurora ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

Part 1 - Meet by fate

Summary : It was a normal day for you or so you though, while enjoying one of your last walks through the town and docks, you meet some strange people.

Pairing : Pirate! Kim Hongjoong x fem! Reader

Word count : 1981 Words

Genre : Fluff, Romance , Slow burn

Warnings ➵ None??

a/n : First part of this new story! Also don't worry only the first 4 chapters will be a bit shorter, bcs those are the ones I wrote back in 2021, new ones will defi be longer!♡

《 Masterlist 》

┌───────────────────────── ·  ·  ·  · ♡

Being the princess of a mighty and powerfull king was definitely not always easy. You had duties to full fill, always had to be formal and like the perfect little princess everyone wanted to make you out to be.

But for what? You had no freedom, no say what to do in your life, who to marry and what not and all this would be even much worse soon.

Just recently did your father announce that you would to be married to Prince Chris of some really wealthy island, did you want that? No, of course not.

You may have meet him a few times, he wasn't a bad guy at all, you just didn't want to get married this young and on top only for the sake of your kingdoms economy. But your mother always told you, a princess had to marry a prince, even though you never understood that, why couldn't a prince or princess rule their kingdom alone? And maybe even find love someday and marry the person you love. Beside you weren't even next for the throne, it was your brother Jae.

And that arranged marriage got you to where you were right now, taking one of your last strolls through your town, through the dock and seeing all the lively and happy townspeople, this all would come to an end soon. Wanting to taste this freedom one last time, before your would be selled off to another kingdom, much to your dissmay.

Not watching where your feet took you, you bumped quit hardly into someone, making you stumble and fall to the ground. Of course wanted one of your guards to immediately run to you, but you stopped them, as soon as you noticed the hand of the stranger you bumped into extend towards you.

"I'm so sorry miss, I should've watched where I was going, are you hurt in any way?" The stranger asked as you take his hand in yours and let yourself be helped up, just now you noticed how pretty the man in front of you truely was.

He looked like some kind of prince, he had blond hair and a almost perfect face, you never knew someone so pretty was living in your town. "Don't worry, I'm fine." Eyeing your guard, you make it clear to him to stay back.

"May I ask for your name? I think I never saw you around." Looking at the pretty stranger, he immediately starts to smile, making him a lot more attractive. "My name is Seonghwa Miss, may I ask about your too?" Starting to smile, you answer him, making his eyes go slightly bigger, he probably knew now that you were the princess. "So you're probably the princess I assume, I'm again very sorry for my manners your highness." Seonghwa apologises again, after you confirmed to him that you indeed are the princess.

"Seonghwa, Yunho is looking for you, he wants to know what you got in this town." A man talked, slowly approaching the two of you, he was slightly shorter than Seonghwa, had brown hair and just now did you notice how odly dressed both were. "Ah Hongjoong, I'm sorry, I got caught up in a conversation with the princess." The man, Hongjoong, now stood beside him, eyeing you up and down. "The princess huh? It's a pleasure to meet you, your highness." Hongjoong starts talking to you, giving a smile your way, these guys really seemed somewhat odd.

Seonghwa quickly left after Hongjoongs arrival, making the it to be only the two of you now, if you ignore your guard at that.

"So, what brings the princess into the town? Shouldn't you be in your castle?" Hongjoong now asks, he still seemed somewhat strange, but you tried to ignore this feeling. You explained to him, that you would be married to some wealthy prince soon and wanted to taste the last bit of freedom you could get, making him slightly chuckle, which offended you just a slight bit. "And what buisness brings you here?" Asking this, got you another chuckle from the man in front of you.

"We are just stocking up on some supplies before we set sail again." Hongjoong explains, making it clear though, that he doesn't want to go further into detail about his stop in your town.

"We'll still be here for two days, find us if you need anything princess." The odd man bows slightly and makes his way to a ship, further away from the other ships, written on it stays 'Aurora', probably the ships name. Just as he walks away do you notice the sword and revolver on his belt, which makes you even more suspicious of the man and his ship. Even the way of dressing was different, to what you normally saw sailors in, which ment they probably are something different.

For now you decided to go back to the castle, not wanting to upset your parents by not showing up to dinner.

Which wasn a good idea too, at dinner your father, the king, talked about some pirates having a stop in the harbor, much to his dismay. Thinking back, Hongjoong and Seonghwa kind of gave off this dangerous aura of pirates, even though they seemed nice, there was something strange about them, maybe you really meet the pirates.

"Also . . Chris will arrive in three days, so we cam prepare the wedding." Your mother announced and immediately after she said that, your appetite was gone, of course this had to be brought up just now. Laying your utensils down, you tap your mouth with the napkin.

"Excuse me, I'll go to my chambers now, I want to sleep early and visit the town again, goodnight father, mother, brother." Now standing up and making your way out of the big dining hall and in the direction of your chambers.

Falling on your soft bed, you let out a quit sight, what would you give to not marry that prince, what would you give for freedom, hell you would give up you royal blood if that meant freedom.

Opening the balcon doors, you walk to the edge, eyes on the dock now, eyeing the ship with the writing Aurora on it. What would you give for their freedom. To roam the seas, free of rules and duties.

Shaking your head you make your way inside again, you shouldn't think like that it's your duty to serve your kingdom and ensure it's wealth, even if that meant giving up your freedom. Getting ready for bed now, you think about the things to do tomorrow in town, maybe visit the little bakery or the florist.

With your thoughs by the next day, you fall into a deep sleep.

Getting up the next day, you got dressed in something light again, ate with your family before making your way into town again, followed by your guard of course.

The first stop was the bakery, getting yourself a little muffin, which you ate while walking, it doesn't matter anymore if you have to keep a good look as the princess, soon you wouldn't be here anymore either way. So why not enjoy your time.

Walking along the dock again, you found yourself in front of the writing Aurora again, not really knowing how you got there, your guard now closer than before, probably knowing who this ship belonged to.

"Hey pretty girl! Got lost?" A voice called from the ship and as you looked up, you were meet with yet another handsom man, looking down at you from the ship. His hair was similar to Seonghwas, just did his hair have an ashy undertone. "Wanna get on board?" The blonde man asked with a big grin on his lips, before a slap landed on his head. "Don't invited strangers on this ship, Hongjoong will get mad at you Wooyoung." A brown haired man told Wooyung now and by now you really asked yourself how all of them could be so handsome.

"Good thing she isn't a stranger, come on up, you can take a look at the ship." Called a voice you already knew, Seonghwa walked by you, a big bag in his hand, and to the direction of the small bridge connecting the ship and dock.

A look at your guard and he was standing still, while you followed Seonghwa excitet onto the ship called Aurora.

When you stood on the railing the little bridge was connected to, the man called Wooyoung held out his hand for you to take, which you gladly took and thanked him of course.

"And Jongho, be nice to the princess." Seonghwa told the brown haired man over his shoulder, making his eyes go wide, same goes for Wooyung.

"Wait you're the princess? Like a real life princess of this kingdom?" Wooyoung asked in shock, looking you up and down real quick, making you giggle slightly. "I am indeed still the princess of this kingdom." After you answered, your eyes immediately wandered across the ship, out of curiosity.

Wooyung immediately offered to show you the ship, taking the offer gladly, following Wooyoung around, meanwhile Jongho stayed back with a slight look of distrust towards you.

"Don't be to intimidated by Jongho, he is actually a really nice guy." Wooyoung explains to you, walking up a small set of stairs to the quarter deck, where the steering wheel was, from that point you could see the whole ship, which was quit impressive.

Following Wooyoung down the stairs again, you now could make out two new voices you never heard before, talking to Jongho. As you looked up, you weren't believing this world anymore, there again stood two handsome man and by now you believe everyone on this ship is handsome.

One of the mand had dark brown hair with reddish streaks in them and about average height, while the other one was quit tall, with brown, slightly swept back hair.

"Wait we have the princess on board right now?" The one with reddish streaks in his hair asks surprised, Wooyoung who heard everything laughed, making the group turn towards the two of you.

"She is pretty!" The brown haired one immediately said, going over to the two of you and holding out his hand, which you shake smiling, while he introduces himself. "I'm Mingi, it's a pleasure to meet your princess." Now the other man stood by Mingi, he was giving you a charming grin. "I'm San, did you meet the whole crew by now?" San asked and just when you wanted to answer, echoed a thud amogst the deck and boots clicking against the wooden flooring.

"Even if she didn't, she won't, cause she will be going now, this is not the place for a princess. Who even let her on here?" Hongjoongs voice echoed over the ship, right now he was obviously a pirate, a pirate hat sitting among his brownish hair, as he now looked over at Seonghwa, who spoke up.

"I let her on, she was curious and I saw no harm in it." Seonghwa answered, making Hongjoong roll his eyes just slightly, by now you could assume Hongjoong was the captain of this ship.

"Maybe for her, but I definitely don't want to be executed, when the king finds her here." Jongho spoke up, but keeping quit again after Hongjoong send a glare his way.

"He is right, the small talk was fine, but this isn't, I'm sorry but you have to go princess." After this sentence, Hongjoong makes his way into his cabine, giving Seonghwa one last look, probably making it clear to get you off the ship.

"I still hope you had a good time." A few smiles were send your way as Seonghwa layed a hand on your lower back and guided you off the ship, you waved one last time, Wooyoung and Mingi waving back, with a sad pout on both their face, making you giggle.

Making your way back to your guard now, you tell him to get going to the castle again, making him swear to keep the event today to himself and not tell anyone.

Back at the castle was wating a unpleasant surprise for you though . . .

[una-hopeless-romantic1118]

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐀 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬?—𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐑𝐨𝐣𝐚𝐬/𝐑𝐡𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐬

a/n: by this part, it’s been a few weeks after Y/N and Warren met on the yacht. a little snippet of how karen and y/n met bc they’re platonic soulmates and they’re both badass

timeline: ep. 3 (band is still in hiatus)

here’s the good stuff y’all signed up for :p

Part 1   

This chapter: Part 2   

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5 (in the works!)

Epilogue

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

warnings (of this chapter): sexual tension, warren being horny, reader being horny, smoking, angst, cursing, drinking. 

summary (of this chapter): weeks has passed and Warren still found himself pinning over a stranger, and Y/N, realizing the cost of fame, found herself bound to be lonely for as long she succeeds under the limelight. Will she take a chance at love? Or is her career too much of a blessing that she can’t risk ruining over anything?

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

•─────⋅(cut to documentary)⋅─────• 

Interviewer: So how did you and Y/N meet?

Karen: Uh, *chuckling* it was all thanks to a shitty driver that just...had to drop me off in the middle of nowhere.

I was supposedly, on my way to the boys’ house for the first time. I had no clue where I was, nor did I have people to ask around for help. It was literally in the middle of nowhere. Just sand, and drought. 

But if it weren’t him, I would’ve never gotten a ride from that woman in a purple polka-dotted bikini who had clearly just gone out of the water from a nearby beach.

*her eyes widen playfully at the camera* If it weren’t for that arse driver, I would’ve never met my best mate.

Interviewer: What was your relationship like afterwards?

Karen: *grinning* How’d she describe it?

Interviewer: *slight chuckling* She said “like two schoolgirls who never grew up.”

Karen: *nodding* Sounds about right. *she chuckles*

•─────⋅(cut back)⋅─────•

“He’s been drooling about you every damn day, Y/N!” Karen whisper-shouted into the telephone. “This is witchcraft you placed on this man. Never seen him so quiet and...smiley.”

Y/N imagined her friend to be on her bed with the telephone. The conversation was about Warren, who Y/N found out was Karen’s bandmate that, she quotes, “uses his dick as a compass.” Whenever they talked about Warren, with Y/N’s obnoxious pleadings, Karen would take the telephone to her bedroom, where Warren and the boys can’t hear.

Karen flipped on her back. “I think you’re a maniacal genius, love, but isn’t this too far? A crime of some sort?”

“What do you mean?” Y/N asked with a mouthful of chips. After swallowing, possibly too fast, she coughs out. “My name is Flora, though.”

“Are you alright?” Karen chuckled at her friend, who goes on to have a coughing fit on the other end of the telephone.

She continues anyways. “Y/N, love, ... he’s going to get hurt.”

“What happened to his dick being his compass?” Y/N, teary eyed from the coughs, drags herself out of bed to her kitchen to get a glass of water. She takes a long drink before getting herself back to the phone. “Honestly, I think he’ll just throw a tantrum, get drunk, and his dick will reactivate. There’s more of me he can find and fuck. No biggie.”

“No biggie?” Karen repeated, disbelief sending her to sit up. “He’s been looking everywhere for you! Pestering me about some Flora that worked for Y/N L/N—Also! Took me a while to piece it all together, y’know! You’re a pain in the arse for this!”  

“Calm down, hun.” Y/N giggled. “I thought it was fun.”

“He’ll think otherwise, Y/N!” Karen scolded. “You don’t know the effect you have on this man.”

“Oh, I do.” She reassured. “I still think it’s funny.”

Y/N took her friend’s frustrated groans as a way to explain herself. “Don’t worry, Kiki,” she insisted with a laugh. “I’ll have enough designing to do that I’ll be stuck in my condo for months. He won’t see me anywhere in parties any time soon either. By the end of this season, he’ll forget all about me.” 

There was only silence now, Y/N could only picture her friend on the other end constructing a plan on how she could possibly restrain her for being so reckless.

“I’m gonna go surf till I come out like a pruny grandma,” she informed her. “Wanna come over?”

“I’ll come over after lunch.” Karen yawned. “You’ll be pruny enough then, yes?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Alright, until then, I’ve got some errands to run for my three sons.”

The friends said their good-byes and love-yous before ending their call. 

The beach was right outside her condo, ready for Y/N to surf in and relax, but she didn’t head out immediately after the call.

One thing Y/N knew too well about, was how hard it was to be noticed.

Sure she had the fame, the money, the success, the perfect condo with the beach for her backyard. But in the height of her success, Y/N is lonely, and no one notices. 

Her designs and her fame so easily drowned her in the background. Because it wasn’t her who mattered to them, at least, not who she really was as a person. Her art were an extension of herself, but the fans don’t see that. Not really. Her private life was empty, filled with no one to celebrate her successes with.

So maybe that’s why she depends so much on her fame—it’s all she really has.

Her family is all the way in France. And while they loved each other, Y/N would much rather die than ask them to accompany her, or for her to go back home just for their company.

Because she can’t admit she’s lonely. She can’t admit how miserable she really feels, even to her friends. The guilt of asking them for their company feels like desperation to Y/N.

Maybe she regrets putting off a love life. How long did she expect to be working like this, anyways?

So then she goes to her vinyl player to play something. The Six album, to be precise, and she pays attention to nothing else but the drums in the background, who were also easily drowned out.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

 •─────⋅(cut to documentary)⋅─────•

Interviewer: While Karen visited Y/N that day, what were you doing?

Warren: *chuckling and shaking his head* Karen never visited her that day.

Interviewer: ...What do you mean?...

•─────⋅(cut back)⋅─────•

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Warren paces around the porch of the blue beach house with a folded piece of paper to fidget with.

He unfolds the piece of paper to reread the address written.

It was her address. Flora’s. Long-awaited, that was for sure, and Karen just figured out her address for him as if she knew it all along.

The neighborhood was nice, and from examining the cars and the people coming in and out of the houses, it was a rich neighborhood. It looks very unlikely for someone who just works for a fashion designer to be living in something like this. 

Suddenly, he hears clicking inside, like a locked doorknob trying to be opened. When it stops, he hears a sliding door open and close promptly. 

Then, nearing barefoot footsteps. “Sorry you had to wait!” There was giggling behind this door, and Warren watches the doorknob turn, and ultimately the door opened to a soaked and rosy-cheeked Flora in a white, two piece bikini.

Warren took note of the wide smile she had on when she opened the door, but it seemed to disappear once she saw who was behind it.

“Hey, Flora.” He managed to say, breathlessly. He does everything in his power not to stare too long at her dripping body, not missing the thin, golden chains with charms of stars around her waist, and how that bikini hugged her body the right wa— 

Y/N closed her agape mouth and forced a small smile. “Um, hey!” She greeted awkwardly. 

Silence filled them both. The wind breezed at them and at the palm trees around the neighborhood, accompanied by a gray sky.

Y/N’s body shuddered in response, and Warren couldn’t help but laugh at her body’s reaction.

She laughs along with him. “I’m sorry, do you want to come in? It looks like it’s gonna rain in a bit.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” He accepted the invitation, maybe a little too eagerly. 

“I’ll mop the floors in a bit, just watch your step.”

Warren obliged, making his way to the living room where Y/N motioned him to. 

“I have so many questions,” Y/N snorted. “How’d you find me in the first place?”

“A friend of mine...” Warren sat down carefully, examining his surroundings. “Karen.”

She nods, scoffing like she should’ve seen it coming. 

There were enough evidence for Warren to conclude that a fashion designer owned this place. The rich neighborhood, the rolls of cloth against almost all four walls, the two sewing machines, the bits and cuts of cloth scattered on the table in front of him.

Warren looked up to meet Y/N, who was not at all ashamed for hiding her true identity.

“Surprise!…” She drawled out, carefully because she’s aware of the embarrassment she caused him, but also with no shame that she’s led him on like this.

He shook his head with a small smile, taking into his hand the nearest piece of cloth. “I assumed you were her when you left.” He said, his voice low. “I asked around.”

“Should’ve done that in the first place,” she giggled with her back turned to him as she looks for beer in her fridge. “Now you’re stuck in this mess.”

Warren shrugged, taking the beer from her hands. “You make it sound like it’s the worst thing on the planet.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her glistening legs.

Y/N laughed out. “Drink your beer, Warren. I’ll go shower and we can have a proper conversation like two civilized civilians.”

“Who said we have to be civil?” He insisted further, leaning back on the comfortable couch. “Who said we have to talk at all, I mea—“

“Drink the beer, Warren!” She yelled from down the hallway.

•─────⋅(cut to documentary)⋅─────•

Warren: She’s got that charm, y’know? I mean, as embarrassing as it was, I was hooked. I didn’t even mind she lied to me at all. Piecing it together and realizing the good friend Karen gushes on so much about, the fashion designer taking over the world with her talents, and Flora, were the Y/N L/N, you couldn’t blame me.

•─────⋅(cut back)⋅─────•

“How upsetting would it be if I told you the storm is going to last the whole night?” She slumped down beside him on the sofa.

Warren, with a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, could only praise God silently for this disastrous weather.

“What makes you think it’s going to last the whole night?”

Y/N squinted her eyes at him sarcastically as the sound of the thunder roared loudly, even inside.

“Noted,” Warren rolled his eyes at her. She was clearly drunk, but Warren can’t help but tease her just for the sassy remarks.

“So, anyways, I was thinking I might get a dog or two.” Y/N brushed the ends of her hair in thought, laying the side of her head on his shoulder. “I’ve wanted dogs for so long, I’m taking you coming here as a sign.”

“I’m flattered.” Warren laughs out.

“You’re very welcome.” She sniffed. 

“Can I ask why?” He chuckled, stubbing out the cigarette to talk to her face to face without blowing smoke at her face. “I’m kind of scared to ask, not gonna lie.”

What he didn’t expect was for her to place her hand atop his head, patting down his hair. “You’re hair.” She smiled sleepily. “I’ve noticed it the first time we met.”

Warren could only laugh at her drooping eyelids. “You tired?”

“No, I’m not tired,” she crossed her arms, turning her body away from him. “I’m wide awake.”

“Baby, you’ve been falling asleep in the middle of your sentences for a while now.” He cooed. “C’mon, I’ll carry you to bed like a man servant.”

“I am not tired,” she insisted.

He tucks a rebellious strands of hair behind her ear. “If you fall asleep here, I’m sleeping on your bed.”

“Don’t you dare,” she drawled out. “My bed is reserved for me only. The only thing you can do it...the only thing you can do to it,” she giggled, “is fluff my pillows. Like a man servant.”

He laughs, with her strands of hair still in his hands. He twirls it around his own fingers gently, careful not to cause her pain. He’s closer than before now, and without her moving her head so much he noticed the constellation of freckles across her cheeks.

When Y/N starts stirring into her first few minutes of sleep, Warren attempts to move his hands beneath her to carry her, only for her to open her eyes again.

“Damn it, Y/N.” He scolded her.

She smiled blissfully, closing her eyes again. “I want you to fuck me.”

Warren stills. For the first time, his first instinct was to move away rather than accept.

He was too scared to move. Did he give her the wrong impression? Not that he didn’t want to fuck her at all, but it’s not right to do so when she’s drunk.

Y/N opens her eyes to find him flushed. “Isn’t that what you wanted in the first place?” She snorted.

“You’re drunk, Y/N.”

She threw her hands up in surrender. “I give you full consent.” 

“It doesn’t matter, you’re not thinking straight.” He goes to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“So...you’re saying you don’t want to fuck me?”

How could someone not? Warren thought miserably to himself. Even in her long, white cardigan that could pass off as a grandmother’s cardigan and black silk sleep dress that revealed most of her soft skin, Warren was ready to take all of her in.

When she’s sober, he convinced himself. If she even feels the same when she is.

Warren’s next move was to wait until she falls asleep and to deny, deny, deny, but Y/N grabbed him by his chin to face her. 

Despite her droopy eyelids, Y/N forced herself to look up at him. His breaths fanning her face were like rescue breaths to her.

She couldn’t help but nudge his beautiful nose against hers, while Warren continued to have an internal battle.

Y/N understood her own rules well, and didn’t fail to acknowledge his respect for her current state.

So all she did was bring him closer by the chin and kissed him deeply. She feels Warren respond obligingly, though, still cautious.

It was a kiss that Y/N could need for the rest of her life, the way his lips reached into hers desperately like how she always wished a man would reach for her. The way his hand cupped the back of her head like how she always wanted to be supported and cared for.

The sudden adrenaline of hope that Warren felt was too much to handle. He never felt the so conflicted over something he’s wanted, but he knew he couldn’t have.

He didn’t want himself holding her back. She has too much potential and talent, he would just make a fool out of himself.

Y/N ended the intimate kiss with a peck on his nose. “For now,” she smiled against his jawline, before she could feel herself tire completely on his shoulder.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

few more parts to come!!

taglist (aka beautiful people): @pinkdaiisies​ @mlwriting5 @teletubbysteroids​ @linatells @stanzie @arsonkween @rexorangecouny​ @lisbeth122605​ @cultsanrio @thatoneawesomechicka​ @magicalmiserybore​

[wickjump]

HELLO INTERNET AND WELCOME TO [wickjump]

My name is Wick (she/they), also known as Wickskip (TikTok), Wickjump (Tumblr), or Hopwick (AO3*).

On all platforms my content centers around Undertale and the Undertale Multiverse, however I’ll also sometimes reblog/post about a few other fandoms.

What I post and reblog can contain themes of violence, mental illness, suicide/self harm, suggestive themes, or more. For those reasons, this blog is intended for audiences 16+ in age.

information zone /ᐠ - ˕-マ｡˚ᶻ 𝗓

[⁉️] byf/dni:

dni: pro/com/darkshippers (i do not support harassment or doxxing), TERFs, zionists/pro-isreal, anti-semitics, basic dni criteria (bigots). xvials.

byf: i will sometimes post/reblog things of a suggestive nature, but none of said posts will be graphic nudity. i am not an nsfw account, and will not reblog or post nsfw content, but it may be briefly mentioned or discussed. any suggestive posts will be tagged as such so you’re able to block the tag and not see that kind of content.

*my ao3 account is not intended for children.

[⚠️] boundaries:

pls no asks referring to alcoholism, substance abuse, or proship content.

do not tag me in posts containing themes that apply to my dnis or general discomforts. that includes grooming, pedophilia, incest, proship content, bigotry, xvials, etc.

also do not tag me in posts that are centered around the harassment of another individual.

don’t flirt with me or make sexual comments towards me, regardless of age or relationship status, including jokes!!!! conversations with graphic sexual themes are generally uncomfortable for me and i’d prefer not to have them.

don’t drag me into fights/start them under my posts!!!!!!!

sometimes i can be wrong about things. if i am wrong about things, tell me so i can improve!! i never mean to make anyone upset because of something i said.

please pay attention and follow my dnis, they’re there for a reason even if you disagree.

[⭐️] faves:

aus: xtale, handplates, dusttale, reapertale, aftertale

au sanses: cross, reaper, lust, dream, dust, error, sci and fresh

canon ut characters: chara, frisk, asriel, toriel, alphys

other au characters: xtale alphys, xchara, xtale toriel, uf!toriel, uf!flowey, reapertale chara, handplates gaster, starlo (ut:y), outertale grillby, core frisk

ships: lustblue, kross, hypersomnia, afterdeath, bad sans poly, errorink qpr, and drinkberry. im not a picky shipper though :))

tropes: devotion, childhood friends -> lovers, hurt/comfort, opposites attract

color, animal, movie, book: pink/red/yellow, cat, the little prince (1974)/the last unicorn, fading echoes/the forgotten warrior (wc)

coffee order: 60-120k word slow burn rivals/strangers/friends to lovers modern au (possibly with a fantastical twist)

[🕯] other assorted info:

no twitter, discord, or insta :(

i have another name btw it’s winnie :3

every time i talk about ink in a relationship it is always queerplatonic on his part, even if i don’t clarify!! i personally don’t like shipping him romantically.

i have diagnosed autism, adhd, anxiety, and some others but that’s my personal biz. if i come off as awkward, ‘trying too hard’, unable to realize when a joke’s ended, or just weird/unlikable, that’s why. i’m seriously bad with that stuff but i’m trying my best!!

i’m an ace lesbian (i love women) and fem non-binary

i am squirrelstar, nightcloud, and mapleshade’s biggest fans and defenders ever!!!!!!!!!!! it’s fine if you don’t like them, just please don’t hate on them in reblogs of my posts or my askbox. common courtesy you know?

pls stop telling me to block people bc they draw gore art i don’t care as long as they’re not sexualizing it or endorsing the actions, it’s a genre of horror u cannot watch saw for fun and then get made at sans fangirl 172838373 for drawing sans undertale being crushed alive. this is the same for most* other dark themes.

*please google the definition of most. i do not mean all. there are some themes i personally wouldn’t want to interact with.

[🐇] links to my projects

Undertrap Sans/Milkbone Sans

(warrior cats divider by skelos-cath)

[waechan]

hi~ I loved your nct dream small moments (the maknae line is def my fave but alsksksk all of them are cute!) so my request (it could be a blurb or a drabble) is this: meeting nct dream for the first time (as strangers, coworkers, idols, classmate?) 🥹 it's okay if you can't get to it asap^^

hi! first off tysm for reading my work, i'm so glad you enjoy it! and second, ty for your request bc this idea is adorable so im making little drabbles for each member separately. first is mark:)

⁀➷

pairing: mark lee x reader

genre: fluff

wc: 1.1k

meeting mark for the first time (classmates)

he seemed cool.

everyone loved him. he was popular for being a genuine, kind soul. you had never understood what the hype was about him. you guess, sure, he was cute, sure, he was kind. but whatever, right? you two were classmates, and shared a couple of classes together. you were both unsure of what your major was, so it was quite funny how the two of you somehow ended up taking the same random classes.

at the moment, your class was at the aquarium on a trip for marine biology. it was a fun class, and on the plus side, you got to learn about animals and stuff so that was pretty cool.

"circle up guys!" your professor, mr. johnson, calls out. you walk with your friend yeri towards him, staying close together, just in case he would try to split the two of you. "alright, we're taking a break from some serious learning today, and we're just gonna soak in the beauty of the ocean and its wildlife." little drabbles of conversations and mumbles start to form, but then mr. johnson puts his hands out.

"now, before you guys get too excited, i do have a scavenger hunt for you all, so don't get too excited!"

you give yeri a look and shrug a bit. "could be worse." she says. "i will number you off into groups!" mr. johnson says as he starts to scramble around, and immediately starts counting people off. "you were saying?" you deadpan as you look at yeri and the two of you roll your eyes at the exact same time, smirking a bit in amusement. of course, the two of you end up getting separated and you go to find your group, but you can't find the one with your number. "uh, mr. johnson?" you call out as you raise your hand up tentatively, and he walks right on over to you. "yes, what is it y/n?" he says distracted, not really listening as he looks around, checking to make sure everything is in order. "um, i don't have a group? can't find my number." you exclaim as you shrug. it didn't really bother you, you could just go with yeri.

he scans the area as he purses his lips, as if searching for a group to put you in. come on y/n, take your chance.

"uh- it's okay! i can just go with yeri-" you don't get to say much as he cuts you off before you can continue, and smiles wide as he starts speaking to another student who starts to walk your way.

"how about you go in his group?" he suggests, not really giving you a choice as he shoves you towards the unknown figure of a person who is now next to you.

"who's-" you turn around.

"oh, hey." he says, waving a bit awkwardly.

...

great.

just wonderful.

"y/n, meet mark. mark, meet y/n. now the two of you have fun." he gives you both a pat on the shoulder and immediately walks off, shoving a clipboard with a list in your hands. you wince as you force yourself to look up and acknowledge the boy in front of you.

okay, cool.

scavenger hunt with THE mark lee? no big deal, stay calm. calm.

"so i guess we're partnered together?" he asks as he runs his hand through his hair, doing that squint thing with his eyes he always does when he's thinking. damn. you kinda get it now. "yeah, um. i'm y/n, but you already know that, cause. well."

just stop talking.

"OKAY! let's go look for the first item. or fish, or whatever." you say as you start walking off without him, and you hear him follow you. "okay, yeah, alright. i guess." he mumbles, as he trails behind. on the way to the section of the aquarium you have been directed towards, you sneak a look back, just to make sure he was still following you. and he was, but... you had never seen anyone look at something with such admiration in ones eyes before. he was standing there, frozen, as he stopped by one of the glass windows that displayed the fish behind them. your heart stops for a second as he turns around and your eyes meet. he smiles. at you.

"i think i found it."

you walk over to him, forcing yourself to snap out of your gaze as you stop, standing next to him, and you look at the fish. it was something you had never seen before, a gorgeous coral and white color.

"woah." you whisper, and he chuckles.

"i know."

"it's beautiful." you say softly as you grab your phone to take a picture of the fish. "who knew this class could be cool?"

"i know." he repeats, gently, as he turns his line of vision towards you and he stares at you for a couple of seconds, the corner of his mouth tilting up in amusement at your reaction. "maybe this will get you to stay awake in class?" he whispers this into your ear, then pats your shoulder as he starts to walk away, eyes sparkling.

your jaw drops open almost immediately, and you blush a bit in embarrassment as you go to catch up to him. "hey!" you call out as you walk quickly to go and catch up with him. "you know those rants that mr. johnson goes on, he's always rambling on and on about his new home renovation that he's getting, and his new date that he has each week. oh, and his new diet that doesn't ever work out for him! i don't get how you could find that interesting-" mark chuckles a bit as he shrugs with his hands in his pockets. "i don't know about you, but i love to hear about mr. johnson's love life. and the diets." he stops walking, and you do as well, crossing your arms as you look up at him. all of a sudden, he leans forward and bends down so his eye level is at yours.

the air inside your lungs and the words you are about to say back to him disappear instantly.

the quietness of the room is deafening, and you swear you hear the sound of your heart beating in your chest.

"it's alright, y/n." he looks back and forth between your eyes. "i'm sure he forgives you." he says quietly, before he ruffles your hair and walks off once again without you. you stand there, still. your heart, still racing.

you stand there for a couple seconds until he turns around, tilting his head at you as he smirks in success. "you coming?"

⁀➷

lmk what u think! my first drabble<3