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#i watched boundary break and have Feelings and Questions
melonsap · 1 year
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Fun fact: We know the size of the Pokémon world because Scarlet and Violet has framerate issues
I'm not answering any more questions
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makoodles · 5 months
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I would give anything to know Ghost’s inner monologue during any part of the last fic you posted. Is he purposefully getting into her space at the beginning (because we all know Ghost is too aware of his body and his trauma to accidentally touch anyone, let along have his entire side against them)? When he walks in does he just blue-screen, is that why he doesn’t immediately leave? What is he thinking when he sees our wet cunt still stuffed? When he finds out no one has touched us that way, or made us cum? When we want him to fuck us so badly we beg him to do it raw? Does his heart break a little when he heard us say we thought he left us, while we were so vulnerable and still dirty? Is he also freaking out about the fraternization stuff, or has he decided that we are his in the same way that he is ours, and Price will just have to cover up another damn thing for his team?
yes to all of this
(a little drabble part 2 to this)
Ghost has a little habit, when you're concerned. He's usually hyper-aware of his body and his limbs and where he's touching, what's around and beside and behind him. His skin itches sometimes when he's touched without warning, though he always hides his reactions. But with you... he's not so careful. He lets his legs spread, his arms stretch, lets himself crowd into your space. There's something intoxicating about the way that you let him, the way you never lean away from him. You're just so soft, so warm, always letting him infringe on your space with a sweet little smile as though you're happy to see him. You're one of the rare people who are happy to see him, and it makes something uncomfortably warm wriggle in his belly.
So yeah, he leans into you when he sits next you in the rec room. It's mostly muscle memory, because you've never minded before. But today, you're a little tense. Ghost knows you, knows you well. He can see the way your spine is a little stiff, the way your eyes are a little glassy as you stare off into the distance. You look a little... ruffled. Ghost watches you carefully out of the corner of his eye, probes a little, but backs off when you dance around his question. He's knows boundaries well, and he won't push yours. Even if he thinks it's... strange that you leave so quickly, eyes averted.
Finding your phone wedged into the seat after you left was like an opportunity. Simon Riley has never had much, he's always made do, and yet he's admittedly greedy when it comes to you. He's not often a selfish man - he's never had enough to be selfish about - and yet he's hungry for your time, your smiles, your touch. And you're always so generous with yourself, so he doesn't second-guess his decision to follow you down the hall to your quarters. He's never been there before, and he wants to see your space, hungry for any shred of you he can get.
He should have knocked. It was rude not to. But he's so, so fucking glad he didn't.
He's a little rough when he opens your door, a little too eager to get into the room and see your pretty grateful smile when he gives you your phone back. But when he gets that door open, sees the sight of you on your back among your sheets, legs spread, head back, eyes fluttered closed, his mind goes fucking blank.
He watches you scramble, watches the mortification flash across your face as you attempt to shut your adorable little pink vibrator off as you shut your legs, depriving him of the prettiest view he's ever seen. Ghost is not a man with a weakness for pretty things, but it seems only natural that you're the exception, you and your pretty wet puffy pussy.
He hardly even knows what happens, his fingers and toes numb and his attention narrowed down to you, only you. Before he knows it, he's sitting on your bed, feeling enormous and ungainly next to you as you stare up at him. He reaches out, his big hands scarred and ugly against your pretty skin when he holds your vibrator, his blood buzzing at the thought that this had been inside you mere moments ago.
He never thought he'd be envious of a piece of fucking plastic, but here he is. A big man, a deadly soldier, reduced to a fool at your bedside. And yet, you don't even seem to notice. You're so good, so sweet, parting your legs when he asks you to and letting him look.
He asks you to finish. It's bold, and stupid, and greedy. He wants to see you come - he already knows it'll be the prettiest thing he's ever seen, that it'll be seared in his mind forever. In this moment, he thinks he'd do anything just to watch your eyes roll back, your face go slack, to hear the pretty little noises he knows you'll make.
It escalates faster than he could have imagined. Such a sweet thing, laying back and showing him how you use your vibrator. And he watches eagerly, his breath catching at the realisation that this is how you play with yourself when you're alone. You're clumsy about it, which is absolutely adorable.
But then you make a confession, and Ghost thinks he might be spiralling. You've never been touched, never been fucked, never come. It feels like an outrage. He thinks of how tense you'd been earlier, shifting beside him in your blue jeans, and he just thinks... what the fuck? Prettiest girl he's ever seen, and you don't even know how to touch your own cunt properly? He wants to show you, more than anything he's ever wanted before. Greedy. You make him so greedy.
"Let me try."
He's between your legs before he even knows how he got there, pulling your stupid little vibrator out so he can replace it with his fingers. And if he thought he was greedy, he soon finds that he's well-matched when it comes to you. You're just as eager, just as hungry. Spreading your legs and whimpering, all those sweet, sweet noises that spill out of your mouth, just like he knew they would.
You have the prettiest cunt he's ever seen. Pretty, slick, swollen, just as hungry as the rest of you. He alternates between his fingers and his mouth and your little dildo, a little drunk on your taste and your soft thighs when they squeeze around his head. He kisses you too, because he can't help himself. Greedy.
He's never been a chatty man, but his cock is so hard now and he knows his mouth is running. He can't help himself. Your salty-sweet slick on his tongue has loosened it; he barely even knows what he's saying, or what he's promising, but by god he's going to live up to it.
Then, your lovely sweet voice, all breathless and pitchy, asking “Can I try yours?”
Not only that, you beg. You plead with him to fuck you, to do it raw, as if he was ever going to say no. As if he'd ever be strong enough to say no. He can hardly handle hearing you beg like that; he feels as though he's going to blow before he even gets his cock inside you.
In his wildest dreams, he never imagined you so needy. You writhe, you're soaked, you make the most heart-stopping little noises deep in your throat when he presses inside. You're so hot and wet and tight that it feels as though you're about to squeeze his cock right off, and he tries so hard to feed it to you slow, to give you time to take him. You're so good, taking him even though you struggle a little. He's not a small man, certainly not an easy man to take inside of you for your very first time, but it's a testament to how slick and eager you are that he slides in with minimal effort.
After that, he loses himself. Hardly even knows what's he's doing, working based on pure instinct, filling and fucking you until he's losing his breath. God, you're beautiful, and he clenches his jaw hard to bite back his orgasm - he has to focus on you, only you while the tears are streaming down your pretty face as you gasp and cry for him.
He can see your orgasm creeping up on you before you recognise it yourself. When it hits you, it's a whole body event. Your back arches, legs spasm, stomach trembles, eyes roll back. Your cunt clenches down so fucking tight that it's a little bit painful. Simon doesn't dare blink - he's never going to fucking forget this. Your very first orgasm, and you're experiencing it on the end of his cock.
He loses it a little after that, his thoughts fizzing and slipping from his grasp as he loses his coordination. By the time he comes inside of you, cock throbbing and skin tightening, he's already decided that he's going to have to make you come again. Once isn't enough, not for someone as hungry as him. Or you.
He thinks he might have fucked you stupid. Your eyelids are fluttering and your lips are parted, but you're a little bit dead to the world. It's cute. He feels his pride swell, smug at the thought that he's fucked you so good that he's sent you reeling off into dreamworld.
He leaves, only for a moment, unable to be away from you for too long. He just wants to get a cloth, something to wipe you off with to make you all clean and fresh again. You're already awake when he comes back, though you're still hazy and clumsy and all teary-eyed.
He's happy to wipe you clean, despite your quiet mewling complaints, and then he hauls himself into your bed just so he can curve his big-ass body around your smaller one, relishing your sweet softness. God, he's wanted to hold you like this forever, but he's still a little nervous about hurting you. Killing and maiming and hurting have been the only things he's been really good at his whole life, and he's irrationally fearful of moving wrong and hurting you, even after the sex. Or maybe especially after the sex.
He can see your brow crease, the uncertainty in your eyes. He realises you're probably a little uncertain about where you stand with him, or what this is. That's fair. Simon has never been the most demonstrative man, but he's also been the type to cling on like a tick to the things he values, the things he wants to keep safe. He holds you, checking his strength, proud to be able to keep you safe in his arms.
He's going to make sure that you don't worry about it either. Your hair smells sweet, your skin is so warm, and your ass is so soft where it's pressed against his crotch. He's reaching for you before he can think about it, and his heart pulses hard when you spread your legs for him so easily. God, he's gonna ruin you. Just like he promised.
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yesimwriting · 2 months
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something about bestfriend!felix who's so used to the world bending over backwards to please him that he seems entirely separated from the concept of boundaries.
it's one of the few things about him that remains unspoken because it reminds those in his social circle that no matter how much influence or money they might have, someone has more. and that someone is felix catton.
he's never weird about it, there's just this rule that everyone learns to pick up on and never mention. if felix wants to go out for the night or do anything socially with someone, it's customary for that person to cancel any other plans.
it might be more of an issue if felix's proximity didn't feel like sunbathing on an early summer day, but it does. so he's used to not having to work to get someone where he wants them.
until you.
despite your friendship still being relatively new, the two of you have bonded enough for you to accept his presence instantly.
felix didn't call before coming over. you answered the door after two knocks, grinning as soon as you saw him standing there. you didn't even think to ask about the lack of notice, you just invited him in and made some comment about how you were just studying.
he told you he didn't mind if you wanted to keep studying, that he brought over his own textbooks just in case. even though you were set up at your desk, you moved your supplies over to your bed so that you could sit with him.
it started off as separated as the two of you ever are, just your bent knee pressing gently into his lower thigh. your shared restraint dissolved quickly.
you're practically laying down, back partially supported by a wall and two pillows, felix's head resting on your stomach as you comb your fingers through his hair. he's holding up a textbook for you with one arm, fingertips absentmindedly brushing against your bare leg.
he breaks the silence with a sigh. when you don't respond, he turns his head and presses his lips against your thigh. your nails freeze against his scalp. "felix."
"lovie," he replies, tone as scandalized as yours. you sigh, and he can practically feel your eye roll.
felix grins, turning his head look up at you. he knows he should be good about this, about you, but he's not accustomed to practicing this kind of restraint. he's preoccupied with terribly soft thoughts of closer when he blurts out the question, "come out with me tonight?"
it's only a question by technicality, his eyes bright as if you've already agreed.
you press your lips together, and the hesitance in the look jabs at him. he brushes his knuckles against the side of your leg like that might tip the decision. "i have an econ test on monday."
the excuse deflates him. it's only friday, and even if it wasn't, you don't need to worry about your grades. there's a naturalness to your schooling, you grasp everything almost immediately. any personal selfishness aside, you don't need a weekend of studying. it's objective fact.
you're still watching him, expression unsure. "y'know too much studying's bad for you." your lips part, but before you can say anything, felix is shutting the book he'd been holding up for you.
he extends his arm, his palm covering the upper half of your face with the palm of his hand. you laugh out his name. "what? your eyes need the rest." you shift, still giggling as you halfheartedly try to push him off. "you'll get a headache."
your fingers wrap around his wrist. "you're my headache."
he lets out a mock gasp before pulling away entirely. felix doesn't miss your slight pout as he sits up. "actually?"
you're chasing after him, sitting up and attempting to grab his arm. felix lets you. "no." you squeeze his arm to you. "i meant it in a you're my best friend way."
"that so?" you nod innocently, all wide eyes as if to say see? i have no intentions of being anything other than a perfect angel.
felix pretends to contemplate forgiveness, then, with no warning lays down. you're not given a chance to deliberate what that means before he's tugging on your arm. he mumbles a brief, explanatory, "c'mere," as he pulls you into his chest.
you listen, moving to rest your chin against the side of his chest. your arm's across him. felix's shirt has ridden up right where your fingertips naturally rest. the bare contact makes goosebumps break out across your arms.
"go out with me tonight," he tries, voice soft. you have to drop your gaze to keep from immediately melting and agreeing to whatever he wants. "c'mon, think it's good for you to take a break every now and then."
you lift your head up just enough to glare at him. felix shifts his leg, pressing it against yours. you push back gently, just enough to reciprocate the gesture. "so you're saying i'm a friendless loser that only ever goes out when you make me?"
"i'm saying," he extends the syllables to buy himself some time to think, "i have to go, and i won't have any fun without you."
you find it hard to imagine that felix catton ever has to do anything he doesn't want to. you're also confident in his ability to find fun at a party. "you have farleigh, and oliver, and annabel--you'll be fine without me."
his hand is on your back, fingers tracing lazy patterns against the fabric of your t-shirt. "i don't want anyone else." the soft whine in his tone paired with his slight pout makes him seem smaller, like a little kid that just needs to be wrapped up. "i want you."
"you have me."
felix frowns, "doesn't feel like it."
you're losing. "do you really want me to go that badly?"
he smiles, feeling the crack in your resolve. "we'll just go for a little. have a drink or two, then y'can sleepover if you want." you do like sleeping over in felix's dorm. "and then tomorrow we can do whatever you want--study, watch a movie, dinner."
a sleepover and a saturday. this no longer feels like a loss. you smile, "deal."
felix's available hand finds your hip. "that's my girl."
the comment makes your face feel warm, you drop your head to rest on his stomach to hide any potential signs of being flustered. he'd tease you to no end about it. "i should get up, start getting ready."
he runs his hand down your back, "it's not until later." he moves his hand back up slowly. his thumb starts traces circles against your shoulder. "we've got time."
----
omg bestfriend!felix blurbs are everything to me,, if you have any thoughts about bestfriend-verse pls lmk,,
also?? might have to write a full fic for bestfriend-verse
taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey
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moonjxsung · 5 months
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Request: Daddy BangChan who makes it up to his gf after yelling at her - FOR LITERALLY WANTING TO BE AROUND HIM +he’s so mean :((+
Warning: smut below! mdni.
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“…And they do this really cool walkthrough exhibit for Halloween, where everyone dresses up in couples costumes. Doesn’t that sound cute? We can do what we did last year- or we can do something completely new. What do you think?”
Chan doesn’t reply, hovering his slender fingers over the mousepad of his silver laptop. His tongue pokes out of his lips in focus as he types something quickly, moving once again to the mousepad and ignoring your question.
You know it’s not his fault he’s been so checked out lately- Chan’s been insanely busy with work, at seemingly all hours of the day. From the minute he wakes up, he’s typing away at his computer, headphones on, listening to the same samples on a loop, only taking breaks to use the bathroom or tuck away in the kitchen for a quick snack.
And it’s not that you’re frustrated, but you’ve also taken notice of the way he’s stopped planning date nights with you, hardly answers your texts anymore and can barely utter a reply when he’s working. You’ve had to compensate by filling his role where you can, making sure to plan date nights with him when he can squeeze in some time with you. But tonight, it’s clear that he’s checked out again, which means you have to try twice as hard to be close to him.
“Baby?” You query, swinging your feet as you sit on the edge of the bed, facing his desk setup, which faces away from you at the giant window in your shared bedroom.
“Hm?” He hums in reply, though you can hear that his headphones are still blasting samples, and it’s a futile task to repeat yourself at this point.
“Nevermind,” you reply, sighing a little as you drop the question.
He reaches a finger up to pause the music, typing something again on his laptop as you finish your sentence. You feel oceans away from him in your room tonight, at this painful distance while he works on his projects.
“Do you at least want to catch a movie that night?” You say, making your way over to him while he sits comfortably in his desk chair.
The floor is scattered with sheets of music, scribbled carefully with notes and numbers like he’s been annotating them. You pick up a few of them, scanning them over briefly and organizing them into a neat pile, before setting them on his desk and resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. Chan sits up suddenly, taking note of the pile, quickly shifting around to look at the floor, and then his face drops. He pinches his temples in annoyance, sighing frustratedly and saying nothing.
“Baby?” You question again, and it’s then that he finally snaps.
“I don’t know what it is you’re asking,” Chan says, clearly vexed by your presence. “But didn’t I tell you not to touch anything?”
You swallow nervously, taking note of the pile, too. He’s right- he reminded you several times not to clear the mess of sheet music on the floor; it must’ve slipped your mind amidst the stress.
“Right, shit. I’m so sorry baby, I just wanted to be-”
“Now I have to organize them again and I haven’t numbered the fucking pages. Jesus, y/n- could you just stay over there? I really can’t work when you’re standing over me like this.”
Your eyes tremble a little at his tone, feeling instantly guilty for disrupting his work flow. It’s not his fault he works such odd hours of the day when you’re off from your 9-5 like everyone else, but it still hurts having your boyfriend snap at you when all you want to do is be by his side. You can’t remember the last time you sat down to watch a movie with him, and evidently, this weekend won’t be any different.
So with tears pricking your eyes, you make your way back to the bed, sitting on the edge once again and folding your hands in your lap like a scolded child. You feel stupid for even trying to get close to him like this- perhaps you have overstepped his boundaries. The guilt and dejection instilled in you are likely deserved.
Out of your peripheral vision, you watch as Chan types one more thing on his computer, finally reaching up and pulling his headphones off from over his ears. He sets them down on his desk, shutting his laptop halfway closed and swiveling around on his chair to face you. But you make no motion to look at him, keeping your gaze locked on the wall in front of you, tears beginning to fall as you feel his gaze on you, silently praying he won’t see you cry.
Except he already has taken notice; in a swift motion, Chan gets up from his desk chair, making his way over to you and crouching down on the floor in front of you. He takes both your hands in his, resting his chin on your knee and looking up at you with apologetic eyes.
“Hey,” Chan says gently. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled like that.”
You shrug a little, brushing off the event, but Chan remains in front of you, clearly feeling guilty for the fight he initiated.
“I love you. You know that, right?” He asks,
You shrug again, feeling embarrassed as a single tear trickles down your cheek and pools on your chin, where you quickly wipe it off with the back of your hand. Chan takes your hands in his again, bringing both of your palms up to his lips and pressing kisses on each one while maintaining eye contact with you.
“Can you look at me?” He asks in a serious tone, and you oblige, albeit through watery eyes. When his gaze meets yours, you feel more tears begin to form, feeling silly for crying in front of him like this.
“You’ve been so good to me these last few weeks. I’m sorry I’ve been so absent. We’ll do something fun this weekend, yeah?”
You nod a little through sniffles, running a hand through Chan’s hair when he presses a kiss to your knee.
“What do you want to do, hm?” He questions, moving to your other knee to press another series of gentle kisses.
“I just want to be with you,” you tell him softly, your voice emitting a pleading tone. “I don’t care what we do.”
He clicks his tongue, now climbing over you and pushing you gently back against the bed.
“You just want to be with me?” He repeats with a smile, working kisses down your neck. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
You can’t help but giggle a little at the contact, feeling ticklish with how his lips graze against your skin before sucking the flesh between them, forming dark purple bruises that trail down your clavicles.
“I’m so lucky to have you,” Chan whispers against your neck, moving back up to your lips to kiss you properly. His hands trail along your waist tenderly as your lips move against his, and he groans a little into your mouth when he feels you arch up into him, relishing in the feeling of having him all to yourself again.
“Are you gonna let me apologize?” He asks with a little smile, his eyes flickering over your gaze as you smile back at him, your tears finally stopping amidst his gentle touches.
You don’t reply, nodding back at him with a pout, and Chan wastes no time locking his lips with yours once again to solidify your answer. His hands trace little hearts across your stomach as he kisses you, moving lower until they’re toying with the hem of your waistband, your legs already parting with anticipation. He skillfully loops a finger through and tugs off your panties, attaching his middle finger to your clit and rubbing little circles, spreading your arousal around your folds and reattaching his lips to yours.
You instinctively breathe little moans into his mouth, your head spinning with the sudden change of emotions. His fingers work you so well, teasing every inch of you like he’s made to pleasure you, his plump lips dancing along your skin and quickening your heartbeat with every movement. You can feel him smile into the kiss, amused at the way you fold for him so fast every time. He knows you can’t stay mad at him when his mouth is all over you like this, but he’s determined to coax an orgasm out of you to prove he’s sorry, that you’ll always belong to him and that his girlfriend will always take precedence over his work.
Chan buries his face in the crook of your neck, groaning against your flesh as your erotic moans fill the room around him, eager to feel you around his now aching cock but wanting you to be satisfied first.
“Feel good?” He asks, pressing a kiss to your temple as he quickens his pace.
“Yes,” you breathe out, grinding your hips further down on his calloused fingers. “Could you put a finger in?”
Chan lets out a breathy chuckle at your request, endeared by the way you never deny yourself the satisfaction of asking for more of him. He’s more aroused at the way you know exactly how to use him, especially when he owes you an apology like this.
“Whatever you want, baby,” Chan replies, sliding a finger into your soaking entrance and beginning to thrust in and out of you. Your pussy is dripping with arousal for him, emitting lewd wet sounds as he pumps you rhythmically, coming up to spread your juices around your clit and back into your entrance.
You’re dizzy with pleasure now, his big hands working you close to your release as he gauges your reactions and smiles in amusement down at you. His curly brown hair falls elegantly into his face as he works you, framing his chiseled jawline which clenches as he watches you.
You sit up on your elbows momentarily, eyebrows arched up in pleasure, watching the way Chan’s painted black nails disappear in and out of your sopping cunt. It’s a filthy sight, but you love every second of it, and Chan brings his hand up to your mouth when he notices you staring.
“Suck,” he states plainly, and he shoves two fingers down your throat, smearing your arousal around your tongue and coming out to glaze your lips in it. You moan around his digits, gasping for air when he pulls out and reattaches his fingers to your clit again, emitting a fervent moan from you.
“Channie,” you whine, grinding your hips up against the pads of his fingers to chase your high. “Want to feel you inside me.”
“Yeah?” He smiles, already undoing his belt buckle over you. “You want me to fuck you?”
You nod eagerly, watching as he tugs his pants down over his waist, freeing his strained erection against his boxers.
“Say it,” he orders plainly, and you sit up to press a kiss to his swollen lips.
“Please fuck me.”
“You know how to ask for it properly,” Chan teases, hovering his hands over the waistband of his boxers, but not removing them just yet.
You smirk against his lips, knowing very well what it is that he wants. And although he’s supposed to be indulging you tonight, it’s no doubt that his little partiality to the term turns you on, too.
“Daddy,” you breathe against his lips, and a knowing smile grows on his face.
“Ask for it,” he commands, and your hands snake down to pull his boxers down yourself.
“Please, will you fuck me, daddy?” You finally ask, and Chan chuckles against your lips, a groan escaping him as he feels you wrap your hand around the base of his cock and give a little squeeze.
“Yes, babygirl,” Chan says, kissing you again and laying you down on your back. “Daddy’s going to fuck you until you forgive him,” he says with a smirk, burying his face in the crook of your neck and sucking your bruised skin between his teeth.
You moan at the delightful sting of pain and pleasure, clasping your legs around his hips to urge him inside of you. In response, he taps his cock against your clit, sliding down to tease your entrance as he meets your lips again.
“This what you want?” He asks, and you whimper against him.
“Mhm,” you breathe, parting your legs further.
“So good for daddy…” he chuckles, finally gripping the base of his cock and slipping into you with ease. The stretch makes you moan instantly, your mouth agape as he begins to thrust in and out of your cunt, snaking a hand around your throat to steady you.
He gives your throat a little squeeze as he does, making you whimper breathlessly as he fucks you hard, your walls clenching desperately around him.
“I’m sorry,” Chan says as he thrusts in and out of you, coming down to place a wet kiss on your lips. “You’re so good to me, babygirl. Wanna fuck away all your sadness, yeah? It doesn’t matter if I’m busy- this pussy belongs to me. You always belong to me, baby.”
You feel your heart flutter at his words, unable to reply as he fucks you a little harder now. His veiny length fills you so wholly and deliciously, your cunt taking him with complete ease now as his hips buck against you. As he moves inside of you, his hands find yours, bringing them up to his lips, where he places a chaste kiss on your palms. He steadies himself again on one arm, using the other to pin your hands above your head and hold them firmly in place.
“Look at me,” he orders, and your eyes force open to meet his gaze, his big brown eyes hooded with lust for you.
From this proximity, you can make out the heavy bags under his eyes, a direct result of the hours he’s spent working in front of his computer and evading sleep. You feel a pang of guilt seeing him loom over you like this, knowing he’s full of the best intentions for you, he’s just exhausted and overworked. And maybe he shouldn’t have yelled at you the way he did, but maybe you should’ve respected his working hours like he requested.
“I love you,” you say breathlessly, tears pricking your eyes again. “I just want to be around you all the time.”
“I know,” Chan says, leaning down to capture your lips in another kiss. “We’ll make it work, yeah? Right now I just want you to cum for me.”
You clench around him at the request, moaning loudly when he picks up the pace, your breasts bouncing with every hard thrust.
“I’m close,” you say, wrapping your legs around his waist, and he groans at the contact.
“Are you gonna let me fill you up?” Chan asks in a low voice, grunting when he feels you push his hips deeper into you. “Wanna make this pussy all mine.”
You nod eagerly against him, his veiny forearms flexing as he pushes your pinned hands further into the mattress and buries his face in the crook of your neck.
“Cum for me, babygirl,” he orders, giving you a particularly harsh nibble on your neck as he pumps in and out of you.
And as he gives one more hard thrust, you finally let you around him, your walls clenching on his cock as your juices dribble from your cunt onto his still-hard cock.
The sound of your pornographic moans is all it takes for Chan to reach his orgasm, rutting his hips against yours as he fills you up with his hot cum, fucking you mercilessly into the mattress to fill you with every last drop.
Beads of sweat trickle down his forehead and his muscular figure as he finishes, pulling out and panting heavily over you. His hands then snake down to your swollen cunt, using two fingers to push his cum back into you as it spills out, holding it there for a moment as he leans down to kiss you again.
“Wanna keep it there,” Chan says against your lips with a smile. “So you can feel how sorry I am.”
He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, kissing you tenderly and caressing your face with his slender fingers.
“I love you, yeah? Stay here and keep me company while I work.”
Chan tucks his head in the crook of your neck as he pulls you onto his lap, pressing a chaste kiss to your arm as you sort through his papers.
“I’ll number your sheet music,” you say to him, reaching for a pen from the ceramic cup on his desk.
“You will?” Chan says with a smile, pressing another kiss to your arm. “Thank you, baby. I’ve literally been meaning to do that for two weeks.”
You giggle softly in response, smiling when you feel him rub his thumb back and forth across your skin soothingly. He’s already apologized enough, but every tender touch echoes his sorry undertones and his unwavering love for you.
“Baby?” Chan says, and you hum in response.
“Let’s go to that Halloween thing you wanted,” he continues, pressing a series of repeated kisses to your exposed shoulder. “You pick the costumes, yeah? I don’t care what they are. Just want to be with you.”
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bleachification · 5 months
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⸻ JEALOUS, JEALOUS BOY
pairing: sanji x reader
word count: 5.7k
synopsis: life as a pirate is never boring, especially when your best friend is sanji—a flirtatious chef who can’t seem to sort out his feelings, or yours, for that matter. that makes things all the more complicated when you’re forced to go undercover and sanji is dragged along with you as your very fake husband. the million-dollar question is: when lines start blurring, how do you differentiate between what’s fake and what’s real?
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“We broke up.”
“How long? Two months?”
You shrug. “I stopped counting anniversaries after the first couple of failed ones.”
Sanji swings his knife a tad too forcefully. The loud THUD of it smashing into the cutting board causes you to jump. You peer over the counter and grimace at the sight.
“God, what did that poor tuna ever do to you?”
Sanji continues slicing into the red flesh, more aggressively than before, but still with the same care and precision that he affords every ingredient he touches.
“Why?”
“Why what?” You lift your gaze to his face, smiling softly at the concentration twisting his features. It’s one of the things you admire greatly about Sanji—the sheer dedication and love he has for his craft.
“Why did you break up with him?” Sanji repeats. He’s chopping up a variety of garnish now. Again, with more aggression than necessary.
You raise a brow, but decide not to comment on it.
“What makes you think I was the one who called it quits?”
He sets the knife down and turns to you, blonde bangs falling across his face. Sanji flashes you his signature flirtatious smile, but there’s a strange hint of tension attached to it.
“Who would ever think to break up with you?” He leans in, gaze darkening. “They would have to be crazy.”
You pull back, rolling your eyes. He’s always like this. Coy. Intimate. The ultimate womanizer. Sometimes… you wish it could be different.
“Well, he must have been crazy then.”
“What?” Sanji pauses, confusion etches his expression. “You… wait… he broke up with you?!”
“Don’t sound so surprised. He only beat me to it by a week. I had the decency to try and wait until after Valentines,” you note. You aren’t particularly broken up about the whole thing. Your ex is barely an ex—a summer fling, if anything. But Sanji, on the other hand, is acting as if some horrible crime has been committed.
“I’ll kill him.”
You blink. “Okay. A bit of an overreaction.”
“How dare he…” Sanji mumbles, not hearing you. His hand tightly grips the knife handle, and you swear the temperature just dropped even in the presence of boiling pots and simmering roux.
“Alright, enough. Don’t be so dramatic,” you laugh, moving to gently pry his fingers from their iron grip on the handle. He lets you—watching as you take the blade from him, and relishing in the soft feel of your skin against his. He itches to grab your hand and pull you closer. But he doesn’t. He won’t.
He can’t.
Sanji learned very quickly that his charms and gimmicks weren’t going to work on you. In all fairness, they rarely do, but for some unfathomable reason, he can’t seem to let that particular rejection go. He will always resent that part of him for pushing you away and drawing that boundary—a line you both delicately toe, never to cross over to each other’s side.
Your first meeting was… disastrous, to say the least. Sanji had just met the crew, and was tripping over himself to impress Nami, when you had made your way back to the others after a quick break in the powder room.
You had witnessed all of his shameless flirting and blatant promiscuity on your way back. You immediately took a strong dislike to the blonde chef, his behaviour reminiscent of exes that were none too pleasant.
“I’m back.”
At the sound of your voice, Sanji beamed, turning to strike up another flowery bombardment of compliments and flattery… only to freeze in place when he saw you.
For once, his silver tongue lacked its luster, fumbling before the sight of you.
For once, he knew not what to say or do. He could only stare. Only admire and behold.
“Good job. You broke the chef,” Zoro deadpanned.
You pulled an expression of slight concern and mild annoyance.
“Um… are you alright?” You waved a hand across Sanji’s face. No reaction. The rest of the crew barely paid him any mind, too busy either eating, drinking… or arguing, in Nami and Zoro’s case.
You slipped into the booth next to Zoro, choosing to ignore the bizarre situation, when a deep, rumbling voice belonging to a peg-legged old man boomed from across Baratie.
“SANJI!”
It snapped Sanji out of his stupor, grounding him back into reality.
“Marry me.”
But perhaps not logic.
“What?”
Zoro pulled a face of disgust eerily similar to your own. Somewhere in the background, you vaguely heard Ussop choking on his drink. Nami clapped thunderously on his back. Is she trying to help him or kill him?
Luffy, through all of this, watched with bright, curious eyes.
“Yuuummphh fuu’yyy,” exclaimed Luffy, his mouth full of bread, gravy, and what you can only assume is a whole ribeye steak.
Zoro turned his disgust toward the captain. “Are you kidding?”
Luffy scarfed down another forkful of food, grinning wide as he swallowed the last of his meal. He patted his stomach, content, before turning his attention back to Sanji.
“You’re funny!” He laughed.
“That’s what you were trying to say?!”
Luffy ignored Zoro’s exasperation and just giggled in his usual carefree manner. Sanji ignored them all, choosing only you to spare his attention. You shifted uncomfortably, tension coursing through your veins at the way he watched you. As if you were the greatest treasure in all of the Four Seas and he was the king of the pirates—a man would do anything to covet it. Covet you.
Zoro and Luffy didn’t seem to grasp the situation as they continued to bicker in the background.
“Boys. Stop… FIGHTING!” Nami barked out. A swift smack from the ginger settled them both down, each sulking in a corner as she berated them for their behaviour.
You took a deep breath, willing your nerves to calm. You met Sanji’s eyes and they shone with hope.
“You want me to marry you?”
“Yes. Desperately,” he breathed out.
If heart eyes were real, they would beat within the passion of his gaze. Strong. Intense. Unabashed. You despised it. How could he look at you in that way after mere moments of greetings? It was lust. Nothing less, and certainly nothing more.
“SANJI, GET YOUR ASS BACK IN HERE!”
Sanji clenched his jaw at the voice, frustration and irritation barely contained. His expression smoothed over as he spoke to you.
“Think it over?”
You raise a brow. “What? The proposal?”
“Precisely that,” he smiled. Gorgeous asshole.
“Over my dead body,” you scoffed. Your rejection didn’t seem to deter him though, the grin on his face still present even as he left for the kitchen.
So many sleepless nights later and Sanji still can’t help but sigh whenever he remembers that day. He wishes he could take back his words, his actions… his everything. Maybe you would love him back if he did. Maybe you wouldn’t be dating morons who don’t even come close to deserving you—not that he does, but he would try.
For you, he would try it all.
Your soft voice breaks him out of his trip down memory lane.
“Seriously, it’s not a big deal,” you reassure.
Sanji wants to shout, But it is! Don’t you get that? How could losing you not be a big deal?
Instead, he shakes his head and takes a long draw from his cigarette. He watches the clouds waft up in lazy rings, circle around your head, and disintegrate into the kitchen heat. Sanji finds it increasingly difficult to meet your eyes.
“Are you alright, love?”
His genuine concern for you makes you smile. “I’m alright, Sanji. I wasn’t that attached, anyway.”
That twinkle in his eyes. It's back again.
“Really? Then what about my initial offer?” he jokes. Though it doesn’t sound like a joke to him. Doesn’t feel like one either.
“What are you talking about?” You ask. You take a spoonful of the broth and bring it to your lips, ignorant of the tense atmosphere. At least until the magnitude of Sanji’s next words drops.
“You know… marrying me.” Sanji holds his breath.
Shit. Why did I say that? He thinks, regretfully.
You falter, the spoon quickly forgotten in the pot. Your appetite disappears just as swiftly.
“Everytime I think we’re having a nice, serious conversation, you just have to go and… say something like that. Aren’t you bored of it? Tired of all the false promises and sweet talk?” You shake your head and stand up to leave.
“[Name], I–”
You cut him off. “I’m disappointed, Sanji.”
“Please, just hear–”
The kitchen door bursts open to show Usopp, who hurriedly beckons you both outside.
“Crew meeting, come on!”
Sanji turns to you, about to say something else, but you ignore him and follow Usopp out into the hallway and up to the deck. Sanji has no choice but to do the same.
Winter has arrived in the form of early nights and fresh snowfall—as if the chilling temperature itself isn’t enough of an indicator. Your breath crystallizes in the air as the three of you venture outside to where you meet the rest of the crew.
Nami has a large sheet of parchment spread flat across the floor with each member of the crew positioned around it in a wide circle. Upon closer inspection, you realize it isn’t one of her usual cartographic maps. It’s a blueprint. And the subject of it… is a castle?
“Nami, what is this?” You ask as you take a seat next to her.
With a pen, she circles a small room located in the eastern wing of the building’s upper level. It sits above a sprawling space. A ballroom, you wager. The schematics look complicated enough.
Nami begins to explain. “This is a blueprint of Ceres Palace, a high-security manor sitting atop the nearest port city. It is home to a powerful noble family…”
She flips the paper over. “…and this.”
A mass of glimmering golden ink shines under the moonlight, every meticulously painted stroke deliberate and delicate. The image is clear.
“Is that a devil fruit?” Robin inquires, eyes narrowing.
“One crafted from solid gold and pure diamond dust, gilded with sea jadeite. It is the most monetarily valuable ‘devil fruit’ in the world, depending on who you ask,” Nami answers. She flips the parchment again. “And we are going to steal it.”
“Wait a damn minu-“
“Hold on-“
“Are we sure that’s-“
A chorus of protests and concerns rise from the rest of the crew, and for good reason. From just a first glance of the palace grounds, you can tell this will be a risky heist, and something in your gut tells you that there’s more to it.
Nami shuts them all up with a pointed glare.
“Do you realize how long I spent drawing up this stupid thing?! One more word from any of you and I will shove it down your throat. Whole,” she threatens.
No one speaks.
“Good. Now, as I was saying, this heist will consist of two parts. The actual theft and the distraction.”
Sanji raises his hand. Nami points at him and nods.
“Why, exactly, are we stealing someone’s gold…er…artifact? I get that we’re pirates but… a bit out of the way, isn’t it?”
Nami, Ussop, and Chopper sigh in unison. The latter ambles your way and climbs into your lap, snuggling for warmth.
“Hello baby,” you murmur. You smile softly as the little reindeer tucks himself into your welcome embrace. You give Chopper a scratch under the chin before turning your attention back to the conversation at hand.
Zoro barely pays any attention, head bobbing a bit. He’s already falling asleep. Typical. Robin, on the other hand, seems to recognize the object.
“I’ve heard of this. Its original name was The Monarch’s Heart. It belonged to the royal family of that island. Twenty years ago, the king’s most trusted advisor spearheaded a coup d’état and a violent rebellion broke out, ending with the execution of the royal family, as well as the usurpation of the former, now exiled, king.” Robin crouches and lightly brushes the blueprint, tracing along its curves. “All this time, the Heart was believed to have been lost amidst war. You’re saying one of the nobles stole it?”
Nami scratches her head and grimaces. “Well, yeah, kinda.”
“What do you mean, ‘kinda’”? You ask.
“We don’t have any proof. Not really,” she shrugs.
“So, again, why are we doing this?” Sanji reiterates.
“We have proof!” Luffy grins. Your captain finally speaks up, too preoccupied with messing with a sleeping Zoro moments ago.
“Luffy—” Nami starts.
“What? I believe the old man. He’s a good guy.” Luffy pats his stomach. “He fed me.”
“What old man?” You’re getting more and more confused as the meeting drags on.
“Luffy. You met the exiled king, didn’t you?” Robin’s eyes twinkle with curiosity.
“Um… I don’t know? I forgot his name but he was nice. Told me about how his stuff got stolen unfairly so I promised to get it back for him.”
“So you don’t even know if he’s telling the truth? What if he was the bad guy, and the nobles who took over overthrew a tyrant?” Sanji blows smoke from his cigarette as he prods.
“He was not,” Robin states factually. “The king was known to be kind and benevolent, catering only to the needs of his people. Since that nation's birth, the royal faction was always at odds with the avaricious nobility. That tension came to a head in the form of a brutal uprising. Though massacre is much more fitting of a description for what occurred.”
“Mhm, mhm, mhm.” Luffy nods vigorously at her words. “So we’re gonna get his gold back for him.”
“Liberating another nation, are we?” Zoro yawns, barely waking up.
“Seems like it,” Nami sighs.
“It’s what the captain wants,” Robin smiles.
“And what Luffy wants…” you begin.
Everyone else groans.
“Luffy gets.”
“So…” Sanji shifts next to you. Closer. His warmth clouds your senses a little and you try to ignore the dizzying effect it has on you. “How do we do this, exactly?”
“I bust down the door and slice ‘em up,” Zoro offers.
“In your dreams, Mosshead. I could take down—”
You pinch his side. Sanji jumps and turns to you, a slight pout on his face. Despite what happened earlier, you find yourself trying not to laugh.
“You’re not doing that, Zoro,” Chopper scolds.
The swordsman tsks. “Fine. Then how the hell are we actually pulling this off?”
Nami explains the plan.
Sanji turns white.
Your mouth drops open. “Excuse me?!”
✧ ˚  ·    .  
“Oh god, I’m going to throw up.”
Robin chuckles as she hands you silken gloves. “Don’t worry. You’ll do just fine. Remember, get in, pull the alarm, get out.”
“Easier said than done,” you grumble.
The plan is actually much more complex than what Robin makes it out to be.
The palace itself has two separate alarm systems—one for the vault, and another in case of fire. If both are activated at the same exact moment, they cause a complete system break, and the fire alarm overrides the theft security, forcing an evacuation with everyone none the wiser.
The plan is for you and Sanji to infiltrate the party under the pretense of a foreign dignitary and his spouse, survey and locate the alarm, cause a distraction, and pull the alarm the precise moment Nami unlocks the vault. All communicated via Den Den Mushi earpieces.
Easy peasy.
Your clothing sticks to you uncomfortably—tight in areas you don’t normally expose to the world. The scented oil in your hair makes you smell like you had just popped fresh out of the oven. A layered film of glittering makeup rests on your features, rendering the person in the mirror a complete, hapless stranger.
“Why did it have to be me?”
And Sanji?
You don’t voice that last bit.
“Nami’s the thief, the other boys would blow their covers immediately, I have other matters to attend to, and Chopper… Well, Chopper’s a reindeer.”
You run a hand through your hair. Anxiety claws at your skin. You feel a sudden urge to feign illness and rid yourself of this ridiculous plan.
“Must we pose as a couple? Surely there are other ways,” you implore.
“The invites we swiped were from married nobles,” Robin reminds.
You groan. Robin pats your shoulder supportively.
“There there. Don’t fret, you’ll do fine. Are you ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Robin gives you another encouraging pat before she ushers you out of the dressing room.
You make your way outside, shivering slightly as the winter winds bite into your skin. The thin fabric of your garments do nothing to shield the cold.
Someone lets out a sharp inhale. You turn towards the noise. Sanji stands to your left, clutching an envelope in hand. His usual suave demeanour is displaced by an air of buzzing anxiety and a starstruck expression.
He’s dressed in a sleek three-piece black suit. It pains you how devastatingly handsome he looks.
“You clean up nice,” you note.
“I…uh. You—Sorry, yeah, what?” Sanji replies, all smooth and intelligent.
“…Pardon?”
Robin watches the entire interaction with a pained grimace. Having enough, she steps up and gently steers you towards Sanji.
“Hurry up, now. They’re expecting you both soon. Don’t forget to stay in character, lest you end up blowing your covers.” She winks at you both, but you can’t help but think it was directed more towards Sanji.
“Shall we?”
Seemingly recovered from whatever alien had possessed him seconds ago, the chef offers you his arm with a small smile. You place your hand around his bicep and try to ignore his rippling muscles underneath your fingertips.
“Color me surprised. I really thought you’d have showered me with compliments by now,” you joke.
“I thought you didn’t like that part of me.”
Disappointment blooms in your chest.
“Right. I don’t. I just…” you trail off. You just thought you looked nice tonight. And maybe a small part of you was hoping he felt the same.
“Never mind.”
You slip your hand out of the crook of Sanji’s arm and start walking a little bit faster, hoping he doesn’t notice the conflicting emotions on your face.
When Sanji first joined the crew, you made yourself a promise: that you would never fall for his charms. But as time went on and he showed you a mountain of kindness, understanding, and empathy… that promise, steadily, became much harder to keep and much easier to forget. It wasn’t his flirting and charms that were dangerous—it was the man buried underneath all that playful pretense. A man who has stubbornly found his way into your guarded heart, despite your best efforts of keeping him out.
It was always easier that way. Easier to turn away, to shut him out. Easier to walk away when you catch him with others who drew his interest and to stop listening as he murmurs sweet nothings in their ears—the very ones he had whispered to you. It was easier to accept that you are not, and will not, be special to him.
You refuse to be just another mark in his book of conquests, and if all it takes is a silent heartbreak to avoid such a fate, so be it. You’ve survived much worse before.
The palace soon comes into view, a grand structure that stretches into the vertical horizon. The path towards the marbled entrance is busy with bustling guests and the glowing orbs of rainbow fireflies. You steadily, and as elegantly as possible, make your way towards the host out in front.
“Good evening, may I see your invitations for the night?” He asks, gloved hand outstretched in expectation.
Sanji flashes him a million-berry smile. “Of course, my good sir. I have them right here.”
He pulls out the envelope you had seen earlier from inside his black suit jacket. The greeter accepts the documents and diligently scans them. After a few seconds, he nods, satisfied by what he sees, and hands the papers back to Sanji.
“Enjoy your night.” He moves aside to let you pass and holds an arm out, guiding you both through the white stone doors.
As soon as you step through the entrance , you are greeted by a foyer fit for kings. A cascading staircase blanketed by red velvet leads to even larger double doors, both white like the walls, but trimmed with gold linings and spiral handles. A crystal chandelier, bigger than you ever thought possible, hangs from the ceiling. It casts shining diamonds in every reflection of the room.
Sanji holds out his arm for you again as you both prepare to execute the mission, but you don’t immediately go to take it. Sanji must sense your hesitation because he sighs and gives you a strained, yet still affectionate smile.
“[Name], please. If not for me, then for appearances. We’re married, remember?”
“Fake married,” you correct, although you relent and slip your hand in the crook of his elbow anyway.
“You don’t have to remind me.”
Arm in arm, Sanji leads you to the ballroom. The doors open to reveal hundreds of nobles draped in silk and pearls, dining on delicacies, and mingling with others of their same social echelon. You already want to go home.
You both find a small table tucked into a corner and stand around it.
“We have to wait until Nami gives us the signal. First, let’s blend in and make sure to look like we belong,” you whisper.
Sanji leans in to hear you better. “What do you suggest? We could hit the banquet table, the food doesn’t look half bad.”
You peer over his shoulder at the platters of hor d'oeuvres and fancy desserts. “They don’t look nearly as good as what you make.”
“Was that a compliment?” Sanji grins.
“Don’t get used to it. Your heads already far too big,” you smirk.
“I don’t have that much of an ego,” he grumbles, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve.
“Hey, don’t do that.” You gently swat at his hand, admonishing him for trying to pull the string out.
“Why? It’s annoying.”
“Yeah, but you’ll ruin it even more if you just yank at it. Hold on.” You pluck a small oyster shucker from a passing waitress’s pocket, with her none the wiser. With the knife, you smoothly cut away the thread and flick it into a bin behind you.
Sanji stares at you in awe. “Did you just pickpocket the…”
“Not a word.”
“Got it.”
“Anyway, we don’t want to ruin these clothes. They’re borrowed. And so much nicer than what we’re used to.”
You pull at your collar to adjust it, only to realize Sanji is staring at you again, but with a different glint in his eyes. One with more… heat. It is only now that you realize how close you are to him—pressed up against his side, thigh-to-thigh and shoulder-to-shoulder, as you both converse away from the crowd. Sanji exudes warmth that, mixed with your own cluttered feelings, makes you a bit dizzy. You take a step back. Sanji’s gaze never leaves you.
“Did I tell you earlier how good you look?”
You swallow. “No.”
He steps closer, closing the gap again. “You look good. Really, really good.”
“Thanks. Formal clothing does wonders.” Your laugh comes out more nervous than you intended.
“Unbelievably good,” he murmurs, almost to himself—like he can’t believe what’s right in front of him.
“Sanji–”
A screeching violin note interrupts you and the strange moment you both got caught up in. Sanji snaps back to his usual self and quickly shakes his head, as if clearing away a fog.
“Food,” he coughs.
You blink. “Right. Food.”
“I’m gonna…” Sanji motions towards the buffet.
You’ve never seen him this… awkward. You’re not sure what to make of it.
“Yeah. Go ahead. I’m gonna scope out the place and figure out where the alarm is.”
He stiffly nods, then makes his way across the ballroom. You turn heel and begin walking along the corridors, scanning for anything that may resemble an alarm.
A static noise crackles in your right ear.
“Can…I—“
A sudden spike of sharp feedback makes you wince.
“Sorry! Can you hear me?” Nami’s voice pipes up.
“Yes. Comms are working. What am I looking for, Nami?”
“Something resembling a button, maybe? Look for a red button or something along those lines.”
“Understood..”
After about ten minutes of searching, you finally come upon it, a small red lever nestled in a corner behind the bar, protected by a square glass casing.
You spot Sanji across the room, mid-conversation with a beautiful, young noble. Your chest twinges, but you push the feeling away. His eyes flit to yours and you subtly wave him over, gesturing to the alarm handle.
Sanji excuses himself and briskly makes his way to you.
“You found it?”
“Of course. It’s the whole reason we’re here, remember?” You ignore the lump in your throat.
“Sorry, I got distracted. I didn’t think—”
“It’s fine, Sanji. You were having fun. You don’t have to apologize. Did you get her number at least?” You try and coolly play it off.
His eyebrows knit together. “No. No, I—”
“Anyway, we should figure out how to distract the bartender. He’s the only one who is in the way.”
If Sanji notices your blatant attempt at changing the subject, he doesn’t show it.
“Sure. Any ideas, beautiful?”
“One.”
“What’s the plan?”
You fidget with your sleeve. “He’s been eyeing me all night.”
Sanji makes a disapproving noise. “...I noticed.”
“I’ll distract him. You get the alarm,” you shrug.
Sanji’s eyes narrow. “How, exactly, are you going to do that?”
“C’mon, Sanji, you can’t be that dense. I’m going to seduce him.”
His reply is immediate and final. “No.”
You balk at his flat tone. “What do you mean: no?”
“No. As in opposite of yes. As in absolutely not,” he hisses.
“Sanji. I have t-”
“No as in not okay!”
You place a hand over his mouth in an effort to stop his outburst. “Shhh! Stop that. Are you trying to draw attention to us?!”
He pulls your arm away, undeterred by your growing panic of being found out. “If it’ll get you to reconsider, then yes!”
“Sanji, enough. What is wrong with you? Why are you so worked up?”
“Do you seriously have to ask that?” He cries out, exasperated.
You open your mouth to retort, but Nami’s voice interrupts you.
“Sorry to break up whatever dumb fight this is, but I need someone to pull the alarm in exactly 60 seconds.”
You give Sanji an expectant look. He firmly shakes his head.
“Not happening.”
Before you can stop him, the chef makes his way to the bar, stumbling as if drunk. Before you know what’s happening, Sanji pulls a whiskey bottle from behind the bar, much to the bartender's protests and dismay. He takes a large swig, and you blow out a breath of relief when he sets it down.
Then he picks it back up again. You watch in horror as he lifts the bottle up and… accidentally pours the entire thing onto the champagne tower beside him. The glasses overflow, and the weight of the extra liquid becomes too much. One by one, the glasses come tumbling down in a landslide of alcohol and crystal.
The bartender cries out in distress. Sanji is unapologetic.
You run to the alarm amidst the mess.
“Ready, [name]?”
“Whenever you are, Nami.”
She begins counting down and the moment you hear: Now!, you pull the handle.
All hell breaks loose.
Blaring alarms ring out, drowning out every other possible sound. Sprinklers sprout from the ceiling and rain down on the partygoers, soaking them and the luxury furniture. Hundreds of panicked patrons scramble to leave, directed by equally flustered staff.
You feel a tug on your sleeve. It’s Sanji.
He tries saying something but is drowned out by the chaos around you. Frustrated, he beckons you over and motions for you to follow him.
After a couple minutes of navigating through screaming nobility, you end up on a secluded balcony away from all the activity. The alarms are barely louder than bells on this end of the palace.
You take a second to catch your breath. Both of you are drenched to the bone, and the chilly winter air does nothing to help your chattering teeth.
Sanji notices your shivering form and immediately drapes his jacket over your shoulders.
You smile gratefully at him, but falter when you see the frown on his face.
“What’s wrong?”
“Take it out.”
You blink. “What?”
“The earpiece. Take it out,” he says, impatient.
“Why?”
Sanji runs a hand through his hair in both irritation and anxiousness. “Because I’m going to confess my love for you and I don’t want everyone to hear it. They’d never let me live it down, especially that green-haired freak.”
You freeze. Your thoughts freeze. Every fucking thing stops dead in it’s tracks, including your heart.
“Sanji, this isn’t funny.” Your voice trembles.
“Baby, take the earpiece out. Let me talk to you,” he asks softly.
You don’t say anything, you don’t trust yourself to. With shaking hands, you take the Den Den Mushi out and turn it off.
It is only you and Sanji now.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” you echo.
“[Name].”
God, why does he have to say your name in that way? Like it means something more than friends—like it’s worth its weight in both diamonds and gold.
“This still isn’t funny.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not joking,” he says, tone as serious as you’ve ever heard it.
You sigh. “What are we doing, Sanji?”
“I don’t know about you, but I’m trying to confess my undying love to my favourite person in the world. It’s scary.”
“You say that—”
“I mean it,” he interjects.
“What makes me different? What makes me…”
Worthy of your love?
Sanji reaches for you, but stops himself at your expression. You continue questioning his words.
“How do I know this isn’t just some temporary thing? A fleeting crush?” You swallow hard. For some reason, you’re unable to meet his steady gaze. “How do I know this is real?”
He rubs the back of his neck, conflicting emotions flickering across his face. Sanji struggles to find the words needed to convince you. He tries his best, anyway.
“I know what my reputation is like. I know the personality I present to the world. But after I met you, none of it seemed worth it anymore. There was no appeal to living that type of life,” he pauses. Sanji lifts his head and stares straight at you, unwavering in his words. “The moment I saw you, I thought I’d die if I couldn’t be yours. I still think that now.”
Oh. Your chest is trying to kill you. That’s the only explanation for the ache you feel.
“I trust you with my life, Sanji. But not my heart.”
The alarms have stopped by now. Soon, people will come trickling back inside and the mission will be over. This moment in time will soon fade into the background of reality.
“I only ask that you give me a chance.”
“What makes you so sure that you’re the kind of guy I want to be with?”
“As opposed to your exes? Those guys—none of them deserved you,” he scoffs, annoyed at the mere mention of them.
You raise a brow. “Do you?”
“No. Of course not,” he answers. “But I want to try. Please, god, let me try.”
Your hands are still shaking, but not from the cold.
“We should get back to the ship,” you say, a strained smile on your face.
Sanji’s face falls at your deflection, but he accepts it and doesn’t push. He nods, and you both make your way back to the Merry, an uncomfortable silence hanging over you like a wet blanket.
You are only a couple hundred meters out from the ship when you stop abruptly. Sanji almost crashes into you, but steadies himself at the last second.
“Is something wrong?” He asks in concern.
Before you can lose your nerve, you whirl around and utter two words: “One date.”
It takes Sanji a few moments to understand what you just said, but when he does, he lights up like a kid on Christmas Eve. One who just met Santa. The sheer joy on his face makes it all worth it.
“You’re not messing with me, right? Please say no,” he shakily pleads.
You shake your head. “One. Make it count.”
Instead of answering, he throws his arms around you, wrapping you in his warm embrace.
You loop your arms around his neck and he melts into you, never wanting to let go.
“I’ll make you say yes to a second one. And then a third. And then a lifetime of dates after that. I swear it on my honour as a chef.”
“It’ll have to be a pretty damn good date then,” you laugh.
Sanji presses his forehead on yours.
“It’ll be the best date.”
“And how do you know that?” You tease.
“Because you will be there.”
˚ · . tags: @zjarrmiii @aiizenn @emyyy007
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cherryredstars · 7 months
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Hey Cherry🖤
could I get some sfw + nsfw hc's of Miguel with a curvy F!Reader??
please and thank you 💋
if body descriptions and gender aren't something you're comfortable adding then it's totally cool.
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Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Curvy!Fem!Reader
Warnings: Fluff, Body Descriptions, Body Image/Insecurity, Labeled NSFW, 18+, 
Summary: Miguel with a curvy girlfriend!
A/N: You can have anything you want, lovely anon! (Be warned I am not curvy so!! Not talking from experienced guys!!)
Word Count: 1.4K (Edited)
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SFW
First and foremost, this man is setting a boundary with you. He always wants to make you feel confident with your body, and he doesn’t want to be the reason you aren’t. Is there any part of your body that you don’t want me to make comments about? How can I make you feel better when you don’t feel good about yourself? Are there certain ways you don’t want me to touch you? What type of compliments do you want to hear? What’s the difference between a compliment and an insult to you? He’s bombarding you with questions and writing down notes so he knows the best way to love you. Nothing is too much when he loves you. He just wants to make his pretty girlfriend the confident and happy woman she deserves to be.
Okay, tone shift: This man SMACKS your ass when he walks by. I don’t mean a small little tap. I mean this man is revving his arm up and when he finally makes contact, the sound is so unbelievably loud that it scares the both of you. And Miguel just laughs about it!! Like, he’s giggling and running away, looking over his shoulder with the biggest smile as you chase after him threatening to hit him with something. It’s like a little game for him and he just loves the way it bounces when he does it, so don’t expect it to stop anytime soon. 
He likes to bite the folds on your tummy or just anywhere you have them. If he’s lying in bed with you or on the couch, he simply lifts up your shirt and just sucks them into his mouth. If you get ‘mad’ at him and ask him what he’s doing, he just looks up at you with the fakest innocent eyes and just shrugs. If you keep staring at him and tell him to stop, he’ll very slowly let go of your skin like a dog who was told to let go of something. He’ll be pouting the rest of the day right after you tell him to stop. 
He’s constantly watching you. If he’s on a call or mid-conversation with someone and you walk by, he loses his train of thought and his eyes just follow you. He’s drinking in everything he can. He’s staring at the way your curves move as you walk, the way your clothes look on your body, just everything and anything. You have to hide your giggle by biting your lip when you spot him wipe his mouth. Miguel’s always paranoid that he’s actually drooling when he sees you. 
He hates when you experience chafing just as much as you do. But he’s always there to help you with the healing process. If it’s between your thighs, he’s telling you to lay in bed or on the couch all day so it doesn’t get more irritated or get worse. He’s running around the house, getting you everything you need and doing your day to day tasks for you. His pretty girl always gets the princess treatment! Every few hours, he’ll make sure to rub in your ointments and jellies over the affected skin, pressing a small kiss right next to it. 
If you experience back pain or sore boobs, he’ll always be available for massages. And it’s not even in a sexual way. He’ll tell you to lay down and he’ll massage any sore spots on your body, rubbing in your favorite lotion and kissing the skin until it feels better. He’s holding up and kneading your boobs for you when they get too heavy as you walk around the house. He’s always cooing in your ear how bad he feels that you don’t feel good and he’s asking you if there is anything more he can do for you. He’ll even suggest you take a break and he’ll finish up whatever it is you were doing. 
No one, and I mean NO ONE, makes comments about you out in public. Not since you’ve started dating Miguel. Whenever you’re out in public, Miguel stares down anyone who walks towards you and starts opening their mouth. If the group of white old ladies start whispering while pointing at you while you’re looking through racks of clothing, he’s telling you he needs to go to the bathroom before walking over to the group of ladies who instantly disappear with widened eyes. When you raise your brow and ask him why he’s back so quickly, he just shrugs and replies, “It’s out of order. And you know I can’t stay away from my gorgeous girl.” He knows he can’t protect you from every rude remark someone makes about your body, be he sure as hell will try. 
He knows the struggles in finding correctly fitting clothes. I mean, he’s 6’9 after all! So, it’s not a surprise when he comes home with a little box for you when you found something you really wanted, but they didn’t have it in your size or it didn’t fit correctly. It’s always an almost exact replica of what you wanted. Whenever you ask him where he got it, he tells you he got it custom made or he made it himself. I mean, if this man can make his own technologically advanced spider-suit, why wouldn’t he use those skills to make sure his girlfriend is dressed however she wants? 
Miguel hates it when you think you can’t do something because of your body type. Whenever you say you want to do or try something and then say, “But I can’t because..” and motion towards your body, frustration builds in his chest. Not at you, never at you, but at everyone that ever told you your body type means you can’t try certain things. He’s always encouraging you to try it and he’s more than happy to do it with you to make you more comfortable. 
NSFW
If you’re having one of those days were you hate your body, Miguel is holding your face still as he fucks you in front of a mirror. He’s pounding your pretty little pussy, making you watch every second of it. He’s leaning forward, whispering how pretty your body looks recoiling and taking him. “Such a pretty fucking girl, taking my cock so well. You think anyone else would be able to take me so well? Got the perfect fucking body for me, hermosa.”
Whenever he’s having sex with you, he marvels at how your boobs overflow in his mouth and how your ass spills from his large hands. His mouth is always gravitating towards your nipples and his hands constantly squeeze and slap your ass.
He likes having you on top of him. He loves watching you ride his cock, holding your ass in his hands as your boobs bounce every time you move. He’s completely mesmerized, moaning and grunting under you as he grabs your body. 
Your body is always littered with hickeys and bite marks. Especially on the areas you feel insecure about. Each bruise and mark represents an affirmation Miguel made towards your body, hoping you’d love your body as much as he does. 
Miguel is completely fine with fucking your thighs or tits. He loves the way they completely surround his cock. He’s growling out how fucking hot it is and he’s staining your skin with his cum in minutes. 
He wants you to suffocate him. He’s pleading for you to sit on his face. He 100% has gotten on his knees asking for you to. And he doesn’t mean any of that hovering bullshit. If you even attempt that, he’s growling and pulling you completely onto his face. He’s happily lapping up your sweet juices from your tight cunt, the most lust filled eyes staring up at you in ecstasy. He’s a desperate, moaning mess whenever you ride his face, one of his hands leaving your waist to jerk himself off at the sight of you. When you finally cum and get off of him, he has a wide, dazed smile on his face as he tries to catch his breath.
Whenever that man masturbates, he’s pumping his cock to images of your body. Plays scenarios in his head with your body on full display for him, begging him to make you feel good. He’s moaning and cursing at the pretty little stretchmarks that cover your skin, wishing he could lick them. He wishes his hands were holding onto your body and not on his cock. He’s mumbling your name and moaning about how perfect your body is. When he explodes, he sits there panting and letting out an annoyed groan. Now he misses his pretty girl :(
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I hope these are okay and I didn’t say anything that was offensive or uncomfortable for all my lovely, curvy girlies!!!
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yourfriendowlbear · 3 months
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Boundaries
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Astarion x gn!reader
Summary: A stranger approaches Astarion in your favorite tavern
Genre: slice of life, little bit of angst, mostly fluff
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The tavern is cozy. Loud and lively and warm. There’s a fire in the fireplace. The bartender keeps the alcohol flowing plentifully. And you’re seated at your favorite table–in the corner, against the wall but still close enough to the action to enjoy the tavern atmosphere–with your favorite cold-blooded company.
Astarion has dragged his chair around to your side of the table, and he’s sitting close enough that you can feel the chill from his skin.
You’re comfortable, a drink in-hand as you both watch the tavern’s small stage. There’s a musical group clustered together–a fiddle player, a flutist, a man with a hand drum, and a woman playing a horn–and there are people dancing just in front. 
Overall it’s joyous and raucous and fun, and though you’d originally had to practically bribe Astarion to come with you tonight, you can tell he’s enjoying himself all the same.
You both cheer when the band ends a song, and when they take a small break to chat with the crowd around the stage, Astarion leans back to say something to you.
But you never get to hear what he has to say, because at that exact moment, a man appears in front of you both. He’s handsome–strong jaw, piercing eyes, youthful energy–and his smile, though enticing, is predatory. A cat who has sighted a dove.
The man sizes you up briefly before turning his attention to Astarion. You can tell that the vampire knows what’s coming based on the way he tenses up. The stranger either doesn’t notice, or he doesn’t care, because he continues on without a care.
His opening line makes you roll your eyes. It’s cheesy and basic (“I saw you from across the room and I just had to come over and say hello.”) and he looks proud of himself when Astarion laughs and says “Oh, how positively quaint.” Poor sod can’t even tell when he’s being made fun of.
He’s shockingly persistent, asking questions, asking if he can buy Astarion a drink. For the most part, you’re sitting there, both offended because hello you’re right there and amused by Astarion’s polite but increasingly snarky responses.  
Around the third time the man asks to buy Astarion a drink, things start to get significantly less polite. And when the band starts up again and the man asks Astarion to dance, the vampire practically growls out “No. Thank you, darling, but I’m much more comfortable here.”
As he’s saying it, Astarion shifts slightly closer to you, as if he’s trying to get physically away from the stranger. You can tell he’s annoyed from how tense his jaw is.
“Oh, come on. Have a little fun.” The stranger’s persistence has finally pushed you to your limit and you snap “Gods above, he said no. Take a hint and fuck off.”
The stranger scowls, but ultimately, he does leave, and you follow him with his eyes as he weaves through the crowd and out the door of the tavern.
After a moment, Astarion stands, moving his chair back to the other side of the table. “I can handle myself, you know.” His voice is soft, but you can hear the hurt in it. “I know you think I’m just some pitiable creature that can’t set his own boundaries, but I assure you, I can manage on my own.”
You frown. Of course, you don’t think that. And of course, you know he can handle himself. You were trying to help. But when you go to say that, he shoots you a firm glare, and your words die in your throat. Instead, you simply say “It won’t happen again.”
You leave shortly after, the band no longer holds your attention, and you want to give Astarion some space. So you head out into the night.
Bloomridge is the nicest neighborhood in the Lower City. The City had gifted you the house after everything, and while at first, you’d chafed at the idea of living in the quiet, sweet, more affluent part of the city. But you’d both grown to love it. The view over Grey Harbor is unparalleled, and it’s shockingly nice to have somewhere quiet to settle down between adventures.
Your feet have carried you home, but you don’t really want to go in yet–the night is covered in a beautiful, light fog, and there’s a lovely breeze coming in off the harbor–so you sit on the front steps and lean your back against the door.
It’s only a few minutes later that you see Astarion picking his way back up the stairs along the side of the city wall. He pauses in front of you, and you can see the pain in his crimson eyes before he sighs and sits beside you.
“I’m sorry,” you say softly. 
Beside you, Astarion stiffens and inhales sharply. “Why are you sorry?”
“You’re right. I should have let you handle it. You’re more than capable.”
“I…” He deflates a little, and a confused frown creases his forehead. “I appreciate that you stepped in. Sometimes… sometimes it’s still hard to…”
He trails off, but you know what he means. Sometimes it’s still hard for him to enforce his boundaries. He tries, but 200 years of Cazador’s reign of terror don’t go away in a year. It can be difficult to walk the line between being firm and being outright rude (and as snarky as Astarion can be, he doesn’t always want to be rude).
These things take time.
You reach out and squeeze his hand, wordlessly telling him that it’s okay, that you get it, that he’s done nothing wrong. You’ll work on his boundary enforcement together. You have a lifetime together to do it.
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jonghoslvt · 6 days
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— you’re supposed to be studying but the boy tutoring you has got you nervous and the session takes a complete 180.
Genre: smut! (Drabble) something short
Notes: fingering, giving head, boob fondling, making out, tutor session, Yunho initiates and reader consents, Dom yunho, you two come at the same time.
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You’re trying to keep cool, but everytime his shoulder brushes against yours, your heart starts beating uncontrollably fast.
“Now you did good here, but I think you’re still struggling a bit with this.” He leans forward, a finger pressing against the paper. Your grip on the pencil is strong as you stare at where he’s pointing, there’s words coming out of his mouth but you can’t focus. Hes tutored you before and even around that time you were still in your own head, daydreaming about what you wanted him to do to you.
“Did you get that?” You jump at his question, obviously not very subtle on the fact that your head is elsewhere. “Um, I’m sorry can explain it again?” He smiles, happy to repeat himself but he stops midway after you said “I see” for the fifth time. “Are you actually listening y/n? Or are you just responding to make it seem like you are?” Well, it was the second one but you can’t exactly tell him that out loud “of course I am..” he raises his eyebrows “uh huh,” he then leans back in his chair, legs slightly spreading, he’s hot without even trying.
“Then repeat what I just said.” Fuck.
Yunho waits patiently for an answer, foot tapping on the floor, a hand resting on the side of his head as his arm is propped on the armrest of the chair. When you don’t speak he sighs “what’s bothering you?” Maybe the fact that his height can still be noticed because even when he’s sitting down he still towers over you, or maybe it’s the rolled up sleeves and the black watch on his right wrist.
“Nothing, I guess I just want a bit of a break.” Yunho examines you, his eyes scan over your entire body and only then does he notice that your face is red and that you’re nervously playing with the ends of your plaid skirt, you’re even looking down, not giving any eye contact.
He knows what this is, and it’s not the first time someone’s acted like this around him. However it is the first time he’s found it cute, especially since you’re not actively trying to make it obvious. “We can take a break, I have an idea of what we should do as well.” You gasp when he grabs the edge of your chair in order to bring you forward, His hand damn near reaching between your legs. There’s silence as he guides your face towards his in order to get you to look at him “let’s mess around, maybe that’ll clear your mind.” “Mess around?” He slowly and sensually massages your upper thighs, feeling the plush skin against his hands, this was actually starting to make him hard.
You bite your lip to avoid moaning, not stopping his advances because this is exactly what you wanted.
He takes it a step further by pressing his lips against yours, you kiss him back and his arms wrap around your waist so that he’s able to pull you onto his lap. The feeling of his boner presses against your clit which causes you to moan into his mouth, and he pushes the boundaries by rocking your hips against his. The heat radiating off of your body, heart pounding, if he continued like this you’ll end up coming.
“You okay with this?” “Yes.” Not even a hint of hesitation in your voice, you were so sure of this.
Yunho stops rocking your hips, hands sneaking up under your shirt to fondle your chest. You never knew that part of your body was so sensitive up until he lifted up your sweater and started pinching your nipples between his fingers, his head leaning down so that he could suck on them. You couldn’t control the way your body looked for more friction, you needed No you wanted to be touched more.
You’re surprised when he lifts you off his lap and back onto your chair, he presses your legs up, sliding your panties off, the wet spot in the middle is embarrassing to you, but he doesn’t pay it any attention. He’s got a very serious look on his face and honestly you’re unsure of what he’s thinking. However it softens once he gets a good look at your open and desperate demeanor. “Sit on your knees, but stay on the chair.” You do as told, knees pressed on the chair and he makes you lean over the armrest.
He unbuckles his pants, cock springing free as he softly rubs your back, his fingers slowly reaching under and hovering over your clit. There’s silence for a bit but you grow impatient, it’s likely that he was seeing who would go first and fuck it, you’ll do it. You lean down more, extending your butt up, lips pressing on the tip, you feel him move just slightly underneath your head.
You take him into your mouth, pussy clenching and getting wetter by the moment, all the while his hands are still not giving you the touch that you want. You suck him harder, tongue sliding around, head moving up to kitten lick the tip, you’re blushing hard and he can see. It’s only when you take him back into your mouth, but much deeper that his fingers finally press against your needy hole.
He gathers up all the slick and uses them as lube, Two fingers sliding past your walls, his thumb pressed against your clit for added pleasure. You moan against his cock, the vibration making him grunt.
“Such a good girl, so good for me.” With limited view you looked up as best as you could, seeing that his eyebrows were furrowed, he was concentrated on your back side as his fingers scissored you open. Being this close, the smell of his cologne hitting your nose while his cock hit the back of your throat, he’d just started and you were already about to come.
Tears of pleasure rolling down your cheeks, you’ve never been touched like this.
The flex of his arms, the veins that popped out, his long fingers brushing over your sweet spot, had your toes curling. Then, his free hand found itself in your hair as he grabbed it and fucked into your mouth, his fingers still fucking into you. The feeling in your stomach arrived, that slight cramp and the buzzing feeling of your pussy squeezing around him.
Your orgasm crashes over you and he pulls out as quickly as he can. You don’t know why but you kept your mouth open, as an invitation and he took it. He came on your mouth, some landing on your tongue and dropped back into the chair, trying to catch his breath. Slowly and careful not to hurt you he pulls his fingers out and grabs some tissue to clean your face with.
“Did our little break satisfy you? Hm?”
More than anything else would have.
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floydira · 3 months
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₊˚﹒✶﹒trolls headcanons .ᐟ
brozone, creek & king trollex with a reader going through a breakdown, overthinking and panicking and how they deal with them.
note ; I somehow(?) accidentally deleted the person's ask for this. I don't remember exactly what they asked word for word. (I'm down on my knees apologizing to you rn, I'm so sorry anon 🙏) so hopefully based on my memory this is at least close to what you asked for. I also hope this headcanon is to your liking.
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☆★﹒🎧 ﹐BROZONE
John Dory
erm. well. let's just say when it comes to dealing with other people's emotions, he's not really the best guy to depend on...
BUT considering he spent years by himself (and rhonda) with no other socialization, plus leaving his brothers behind and coming back to them after awhile out of conscious but seeing them nowhere to be found, he definitely felt lonely and HAD his own breakdowns before.
so he'd understand how you're feeling, or at least try to understand.
when he first saw you breaking down, his first instinct was to ask you questions "why are you breaking down?" "did something happen?"
if he doesn't get a reply from you, he'll respect your boundaries and not ask any further questions. he'll just focus on comforting you in the present, awkwardly patting your back and giving you words of affirmation that he thinks would work. like those motivational phrases or quotes online, maybe even those ones that facebook moms use.
if you do give a reply, he'll sit down next to you and hear you out. sipping a drink and lending his ears for you to vent. he'll keep quiet (internally, he's restraining himself from outing his own opinions on whatever you vented to him about).
In summary, he's a listener. If you let him voice his own opinions, he'll tell you his thoughts and views. more often than not, if he does give advice, it's probably best you don't actually follow them. I feel like he's bad at giving advice...
at least, he's got the spirit!
Spruce/Bruce
this troll has a wife and kids. I'm sure he's knowledgeable in comforting someone when they are breaking down or overthinks a lot.
if you're overthinking, he'll support you and keep you company but he's also honest that helps you actually evaluate your overthinking thoughts and not stress too much about them.
once you come to him looking vulnerable, he'll immediately try to soothe you by rubbing your back gently. yk like those back rubs that puts babies to sleep? yeah, he'll do that.
while he rubs your back, he urges you to take a deep breath and let it all out. so you do. unknowingly you ranted and ranted, every little detail spoken word to word. he just has that affect on people.
lets you know that what you're going through is valid.
once you're all done, he'll give you advice to ease you or if you're not looking for advice, he'll just comfort you until you feel better.
Clay
he literally is in a sad book club, he'll have the knowledge about it and how to deal with it. except...he's slightly bad at executing it.
he'll snap you out of overthinking by yelling positive stuff to you, that are actually...effective???
if you rant to him, he'll listen to you attentively and pat your head afterwards. it's just something natural that he does, honestly head pats are soothing ok.
if you're okay with physical touch, he'll caress your face while giving you actually reassuring words. (LIKE. have you SEEN him literally pinching and squishing branch's face when he first met him after 20 years?!) of course, it's effective, combined with his already nice vibe (I feel like he naturally has a healing presence, he's just a sweet little boring cutie)
his method of comforting you naturally makes you feel better. he doesn't have to try hard because just watching his body language and mannerisms are dorky enough that it'll make you smile. he's unknowingly comforting in a silly dorky way. even with how badly he persists to be a very "serious" guy.
he'll definitely give you a big warm hug after everything.
Floyd
he's literally called the sensitive one. out of the brothers, he's definitely the one who understands you the most.
I don't think I even need to explain, you already know how perfect he is with dealing with stuff like that. like the time he talked to veneer about how his sister treats him and how he shouldn't let her be like that to him.
his face is full of worry if he sees you in a vulnerable state.
he literally gives the best hugs, it's canon, I know it's canon.
this emo mf knows exactly the right words to get you out of your vulnerable state for a while (bc the phrases he gives to others are probably what he wants to hear given to him).
he'll be really patient with you and help you with every step along the way even if you're having a hard time changing your bad traits.
he's also attentive at listening, he'll caress your hands with his thumb with a reassuring smile.
he'll be really sweet at tackling your situation and never makes you feel overwhelmed.
will cry with you tbh.
he's kind of helping himself when he helps you, because he's similar in a way.
Branch
branch was quite the panicker himself during the times when bergens ate trolls.
so he'd also know how to help you deal with it because he understands you.
he had to figure it out himself and was mostly alone to deal with his own vulnerability so he's happy to help you.
he'll look calm, composed and collected externally but even he, himself is slightly panicking on the inside. afraid that he'll let you down or he won't be of much help. don't worry though, he has it all put together after a bit.
If you're panicking, he'll help you focus, calm down and ease your hyperventilation.
"concentrate on your breathing, okay?"
once you've calmed down, he'll provide you with reassuring words.
he'll keep you company and stay with you until you feel composed enough to talk about it with him. he'll lend you an ear.
afterwards, he pats you on the shoulder and gives you advice that worked on him before.
━━━━━━━━━━
Creek
as bad as he is, he's literally the best when it comes to relaxation. he has that zen-like wisdom, so he'll calm you down and help you relax if you're panicking or overthinking too much.
just like floyd, he also knows exactly what to say to reassure or cheer someone up.
he'll give you a more positive outlook on whatever happened to you so that you don't overthink it.
tbh his voice itself is enough to calm you down.
he encourages different methods and ways(that he knows of) to you that could help.
King Trollex
this sweet goober offers you all his emotional support.
he feels upset, if you're upset. he's all frowny when he sees you vulnerable.
"can I give you a hug?" ofc he asks for consent.
will hug you tightly (he thinks hugs are a remedy for everything, besides music), quiet sobs are heard as his face is smooshed against your chest. just like bruce, he'll also rub your back soothingly while hugging you.
Intertwines both of your hands and encourages you to put your thoughts into words so that he knows what's going on that head of yours that's overthinking a lot of stuff.
keeps eye contact with you as you rant to him.
"you can get through this." he'll say with his cute smile.
the most he can provide is listening and comfort. he wishes he could help you more.
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itsswritten · 2 months
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Naughty Little Shadows | 5
Pairing: azriel x fem reader
Word count: 3.3K
Warnings: angst, misunderstandings, mentions of parents death (not graphic) mentions of beasts attacking, a little bit of fluff
Summary: You and Azriel begin to navigate the new complexities of your mating bond, but you quickly realise how dangerous this could become. Is being mated to the Shadowsinger worth your safety?
A/n: Sorry this took a while, I've really been changing up my mind on where I'm taking this story but I think I'm getting there. Thank you for all the love, let me know what you think in the comments <3 - Lottie
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<< Previous Part
The journey back had been long, and as you stepped into your own home, a sigh of relief escaped your lips. The familiar faelights welcomed you with a soft glow, casting a comforting ambiance across your apartment.
It was still a mess from the disaster of your creations, but as you groaned you told yourself tidying up could wait till tomorrow.
Tired from the travels, you dropped your bags and began to make your way to your bedroom. Your soft plush sheets were awaiting you and you wouldn’t waste another moment. Just as you were lifting your top above your midriff, a quiet grunt from the corner of the room made you jump, scrambling to pull your top back down as you wrapped your arms around yourself protectively.
Startled, your eyes widened as you found Azriel sitting in your armchair, wings taut, his expression stoic. "Gods, Az!" you exclaimed, not expecting to find the Spymaster lurking in your bedroom. 
Any bit of sympathy for him you had been feeling from your previous outburst at the dinner had disappeared. The male had let himself into your apartment. Uninvited. You weren’t sure what rules the inner circle played by, but this was not okay.
"What are you doing here?" you demanded a hint of anger colouring your words at the intrusion. Your fists clenched at your sides, mirroring the tension between you both. The last time you saw one another things hadn’t ended well, something that was completely your fault. But to let himself in, to cross this boundary was too far. 
Your eyes scanned your mate's expression, searching for any hint of what he was thinking, but you found only a blank slate.
"I'll be asking the questions," he breathed, rising from the chair.
You had always known Azriel was tall, constantly craning your neck when speaking to him. Yet now, an air of dominance surrounded him which only exuded his height.
Goosebumps covered your body as he took a deliberate step closer.
“I don’t appreciate you breaking into my apartment, Azriel,” you stated, attempting to sound brave, but your voice wavered under the weight of his presence.
“And I didn’t appreciate you running off with no explanation last week” he replied curtly.
You swallowed hard.
Azriel didn’t like the role he was having to play now, but you had broken his trust. 
“I need you to explain something to me” He kept his gaze on you, his face not faltering. 
Extending his hand with an open palm, Azriel revealed a submissive little shadow—a shadow that unmistakably belonged to you. 
Peering into his large hand, you watched your little creation, a shadow which hadn’t returned with the rest of its companions. Instead it had sought refuge in the presence of Azriel – the Shadowsinger, your mate.
That traitor. 
There was a small part of you that wanted to lunge for the traitorous shadow, cease its existence for its betrayal but before you could even move, it had slinked back into the comfort of Azriel’s shadows.
Despite your new confidence from your earlier practice with the butterfly, you quickly realised how out of depth you were. You thought you had reeled all the shadows back before you left for your trip, but clearly one had gone unnoticed. And that was a problem.
"Who are you?” Azriel pressed again.
You inhaled sharply.
“What are you?” His voice darkened.
You shook your head, he was misunderstanding everything.
“Who do you work for?”
“Wha-” you flinched at his questions, struggling to find the words to respond.
“This thing,” he gritted out, dragging your lone shadow out from under his wing again, pulling it away from his own shadows that had grown rather attached, it seemed. “This, infiltrated River House. This thing went undetected by all of Rhys' wards, by all my family, even by me.”
Azriel's eyes bore into yours, demanding answers that seemed to elude you. His tone was sharp, suspicious, but under it all his Spymaster’s facade was breaking. 
He was heartbroken.
Your shadow now relinquished from his grip went hiding under Azriel’s harsh words, as if they had found it upsetting, and there was a part of him that almost felt bad for the little creature.
You realised the gravity of the situation—Azriel believed you were a spy, sent to unravel everything he held dear. 
It was perhaps easier for him to assume this was his fate, to be mated to someone who had set out to destroy everything he held dear. That it was an unfortunate coincidence, or perhaps something that worked in your favour, that the man you were to take down happened to be your mate. 
Made it easier to get close to him. Easier to destroy him while he blindly fell for you.
But as he watched you stumble over your words, tears threatening to spill. His assumption faltered– if you were a spy, you weren’t a very good one.
"I didn't mean to infiltrate anything... I didn't even know... I'm so sorry. I thought I had got rid of them all. I didn't even mean to create them," you confessed, your secret exposed. However that sacrifice felt just, in this misunderstanding. Your chest was straining at the thought of Azriel thinking poorly of you, thinking you were someone who would intentionally bring harm to him and his family.
Azriel had to glance away for a moment, to maintain his stoic demeanour as you began to unravel in front of him. Every part of him was coiled up tight, fists clenched to stop himself from reaching out to console you. He could feel the mating bond begging him now, begging him to comfort you. Maybe you were sending that feeling to him, maybe it was a trick to deceive him. 
But he was Spymaster of the night court and he had a duty to uphold, and if you were a danger to everything he and his friends had worked so hard to protect he had to know.
"I need to know everything," he said, his voice strained with the weight of the situation. 
A tidal wave of panic crashed over you. After years of concealing the truth, downplaying your abilities, and suppressing any urges to explore your power, everything was now falling apart in front of you.
The question loomed—were you willing to expose yourself to salvage your relationship with your mate, even at the cost of your own safety? You were so tired, so tired of keeping everything a secret. Hiding parts of your ability that begged to be expressed. 
In the quiet of your apartment, only the breaths of you and your mate could be heard. 
The gnawing feeling returned to your chest, a reminder that you were walking on a fine line. Lying could easily jeopardise your relationship with Azriel. Had this intervention come earlier in your connection, you may have chosen deception. However, all those precious moments together were swirling in your mind. Feelings of infatuation, lust and perhaps something deeper, had kept you awake at night. Had involuntarily manifested into your first creation in years. This wasn’t something to let go of. Azriel wasn’t someone to give up on. In that moment you decided that perhaps sharing this burden was the fate you were destined for. 
You slumped onto your bed, overwhelmed by the entire situation. There was a silence as you collected your thoughts, wiping your eyes to gain some kind of composure.
"Okay, I'll tell you everything" you said, and so, Azriel listened.
You began to recount the story of your father, a man who never wanted to fight, who only wanted to create and yet had become so deeply entwined within the war. You spoke of the extraordinary ability he possessed, one that sadly didn’t go unnoticed by Rhysands father. Your father had the power to will, almost anything into existence. In theory he could create simply from vision, but your ancestors had found a crutch in painting and drawing as a way to channel your abilities better. It streamlined your creations, helped you focus, and maintained control. You told Azriel how your father could bring life to a small illustration on a page, or to a giant living ethereal army. 
In the war, he had become a pawn of Rhysand's father, a secret weapon kept from everyone, including Azriel. 
Azriel had found himself beside you now, his feet involuntarily moving to sit at the end of your bed. And as you continued to dive deeper into your life, he realised he had got this so completely wrong. Your revelation shed some light for Azriel, there were moments during the war when the scales were unequivocally tipping against them, yet somehow, news would reach him of a miraculous turn of events. Whispers circulated of ethereal beasts and iron soldiers from a few surviving Illyrians who claimed to have witnessed these phenomena. It was always brushed off as hallucinations induced by injuries on those brutal battlefields. Now, with what you had disclosed it explained something he never even realised needed an understanding.
"I don't truly know how he died," you admitted. "But I imagine he exhausted himself. Erecting monsters and magical armies takes its toll."
Azriel was sat in disbelief of this new information. A man had fought and saved lives, playing a crucial role in the prosperity of Velaris, yet his name remained unknown. For his own daughter to not even know how he died struck Azriel. Wars were known for their sacrifices, gods knew he had made plenty. But there was sadness for the man who never got the recognition he deserved.
“Sometimes I imagine he created a portal to leave this world, so no one could find him. So no one could make him create things from darkness anymore…” you whispered, your gaze was fixed on your hands. You didn’t dare look at Azriel.
Azriel had turned to watch some of his shadows on the floor, they were teasing your little baby creation. A part of him felt a fool that he ever considered you were an enemy, that this little shadow was going to infiltrate his court and tear them down from the inside out. 
"When I was younger…" you paused, a heaviness in your voice, unsure if you should share this part of you. But at this point, if you were going to gain Azriels trust, it was time to bare all "...Something bad happened. I did something bad.” 
You continued, recounting the night you channelled something out of anger. Your knowledge of your mother was scant—she had passed away during childbirth, leaving behind only fragments of her existence. It being a sore spot for your father, he never spoke of her much. Only the occasional “You look so much like her” which was always followed with a pained expression.
The only tangible belonging you had of your mothers was a delicate chain adorned with a star pendant, which became your most prized possession. It was the sole memento linking you to her, a cherished keepsake despite its modest value.
However, one fateful day, a cruel twist of fate saw this precious heirloom torn from your grasp. An older, higher fae had snatched it from your neck when you had been playing claiming it suited her more. Begging and pleas fell on deaf ears– so you reacted in the only way you knew how.
Fingers were itching with anticipation as you spilled all your emotions onto paper, scrawling dark black brush strokes down the page, sharp spikes added from pencil. From the depths of your anguish emerged a beast born of fury and despair, its sole purpose to mete out vengeance upon those who caused you pain. It had hunted and attacked the girl, and it was only when it was about to kill her– when you were about to kill her, that your father had managed to destroy it with his own creation. 
The incident left both you and your father shaken to the core. He, fearful of the untapped potential within you, made you swear to conceal your abilities. Your control –or lack thereof was dangerous, and how quickly you were able to tap into malicious intent was unnerving. So he made you promise to conceal your ability, one he made Adon vow to also keep to this day.
Your fingers lightly trailed over the chain that was tucked into your top. You often pondered how your father had managed to retrieve it, how he had navigated the aftermath of that fateful night. No one else ever seemed to find out about that night, the attack, the girl. It was a mystery you hadn't dared to unravel, for fear of uncovering the extent of your father's efforts to shield you. You weren’t sure the lengths your father went to protect you– you didn’t want to know.
You didn’t dare glance at Azriel as you continued, ashamed of the part of you that had gone unnoticed by most. It was a part of you that remained hidden, concealed behind layers of secrecy and fear. You knew deep down that you weren’t inherently evil, far from it. Your days were filled with simple joys—painting, strolls along the Sidra, reading romance novels. The mere thought of causing harm to others sent shivers down your spine.
And yet, there lingered a disquieting sensation, one that gnawed at the edges of your conscience. It was a feeling foreign to the tranquillity of your usual pursuits, an unsettling whisper that grew louder in moments of anger and frustration. When you unleashed that beast upon your tormentor, a surge of power coursed through you, a sensation that was undeniably exhilarating– you had enjoyed it. And perhaps that was the scariest thing about it all. 
Your magic, as you explained, has a way of hiding in plain sight, surpassing most wards. It was something to do with your creations dancing within both the physical and ethereal realm that made them able to pass through the toughest shields. 
“Last week at the dinner- '' You swallowed hard trying to find the best way to explain everything. “I hadn’t used my ability in years, not in that way” you gestured to your little baby shadow that was swirling around Azriel’s.
“I think maybe because of the bond, I lost control a little. My emotions had been heightened. I had drawn you– drawn your shadows…And one day they were just here. In front of me.”
You could feel the shift in the air now, Azriel’s cold presence was warming and you could feel a small ripple down the bond as if to say he believed you.
You looked at him now, brows furrowed “I had tried to catch them, but they escaped before I could. And then they showed up at the dinner, and everything was going so well.” The words were falling out of our mouth, like word-vomit “But I was so scared. I didn’t want anyone to see them, I didn’t want anyone to know– I had promised my father to not tell anyone–”
Azriel’s hands had cupped your face and he began to shush you softly, your breathing was elevated as you blurted out your confession. Everything was falling into place in Azriel’s mind now, your life, your ability, the weight you carried all on your own. 
But not anymore.
Azriel had pulled you into a tight embrace before you could continue, wings cocooning you protectively as you regained your steady breath.
“Breathe for me, love” he whispered, as he held you. You hadn’t even noticed your erratic breaths till he spoke in that smooth tone.
You noticed how he hadn't turned away from you, that he hadn't recoiled in horror at the revelation of your past actions. You realised then, that perhaps this wasn’t the darkest tale the Spymaster had ever heard or experienced. 
You pulled back slightly, as you looked at your mate.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what happened at the dinner, I’m sorry for leaving, I’m sorry for the shadow, for not telling you everything”
Azriel nodded wordlessly, a silent acceptance. Forgiveness flowing its way down the bond. Gods, he didn’t want to let you out of his sight. A protectiveness overwhelming him from everything you had shared. He wanted to wrap you in these pink sheets and never let you go. Instead though he attempted to lighten the mood.
"These shadows of ours... seem to get us into a lot of trouble" he teased. His attempt at humour granted a small smile to stretch on your lips.
“Come now, let’s get you ready for bed. It’s late” he purred with a soft gaze. It wasn’t an order, but you felt there was no room to disobey him.
“You’re not going to leave are you?” You whispered out of vulnerability.
“I’ll never leave for as long as you want me” 
Your chest swelled at the statement, a rosy tint covering your face. You smiled softly, chewing the inside of your cheek before getting up.
You had moved to your bathroom to get changed, pulling on your sleep shorts and shirt, washing your face and swiftly moving through your nightly routine. You stepped back into your bedroo, lingering in the doorway for a moment as you glanced at your mate. He seemed lost in thought. 
Feeling your presence, his gaze landed on you. Landed on the skin now exposed as his eyes raked down your legs. His adams apple bobbed as he swallowed. Pushing a wicked thought away.
“I can sleep in the living room” he mused, gesturing his head towards the other room. 
Always the gent. You thought, but you had seen that look he gave you. If only for a second.
“Stay with me, here” you spoke, padding over to your bed and climbing over. “Please”
Azriel almost unravelled right then and there, he realised in that moment all you would ever have to do was ask and he would give you everything. With a nod he agreed. And as you shuffled your way under your sheets, Azriel stood removing his shirt and then belt, you watched him contemplate for a moment before opting to leave his trousers on. Assuming position beside you on top of the sheets.
You couldn’t hide the way your eyes trailed down his chiselled torso. Hating the distance he had put between you with the duvet.
Your bed, was a tight fit. It wasn’t made to fit Illayrians and their huge wings, but you were grateful for the proximity. It brought you closer to him, and after a moment Azriel brought one of his wings to cover you protectively.
You were staring at one another now in a heated gaze, laying on your sides, no words leaving your lips and yet the silence spoke of everything. You could feel it, through the bond, in the way he cocooned you, in the way he spoke to you– he had completely and utterly accepted you. Secrets and all.
Perhaps it was the culmination of all the misunderstandings and miscommunications, but in that moment, something changed. The air seemed charged as you both leaned in, Azriel’s lips hovering over yours as if to give you a chance to change your mind. But the only thing on your mind was him, your mate. 
Your lips met, a collision of longing and pent-up desire. The intensity of the mating bond only surging it on, sparking your skin like wildfire. Azriel’s strong arms pulled you closer, his fingers threading through your hair as he deepened the kiss.
As the heat between you both escalated, the world outside ceased to exist. Bodies pressed against each other, a magnetic pull drawing you both impossibly closer. Azriel's low growl reverberated through the kiss, sending shivers down your spine.
It was a union, an apology and forgiveness. A promise of something more.
You could feel him pressing against you now, that duvet proving to be the only obstacle. So you went to move them but before you could your mate reluctantly pulled away. He was breathless as he looked at you with those hazel hungry eyes. “You need sleep.” 
You went to protest, but there was something in Azriel’s gaze that convinced you he wasn’t going to budge on this. That perhaps this intervention was more for his own composure than yours. 
So you did as you were told, and in the warmth of his embrace, under the soft strokes of his fingers you drifted to sleep.
~~~
Next Part >>
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mari-the-bimbo · 1 month
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First things first. I love your writings. Especially the ex-husband ones❤
Two I hope you don't mind me requesting a ex-husband geto?
-🌼
Ex husband Geto
A/N: Ohhh you ATE with this idea I’m getting butterflies just thinking about it 😫 Happy late valentines my loves!! 🫶🏽💗
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Ex husband Geto is a terrifying blend of ex husband Gojo and Nanami’s worst traits. He is extremely unhinged like his white haired best friend but good at playing nice guy like Nanami.
He’s ‘respectful’. Always paying a sum of money to spend on yourself as well as child support, always bringing chocolates when visiting, always insisting to stay over and help out with your daughter when you’re on your period (he knows your cycle because he refuses to log out of your Flo partners account from back when you were married hehe), and he does it all with a small smile on his face.
He loves his precious baby daughter so much! She inherited his dark hair but your enchanting eyes and smile. His eyes soften at the way she giggles just like you when he presses kisses to her rosy cheeks. His little girl loves playing with her dad’s long black hair. He was born to be a girl dad.
However Geto still struggles with boundaries. You try to shake it off when his fingers touch your waist or when he ‘accidentally’ still calls you sweetheart. “sorry bad habits” he dry chuckles. He’s admitted he’s struggling to get over his feelings for you so you try to be nice about it.
But what you can’t shake off is the way he always happens to know where you are, or he always happens to turn up just before a date, or the way he always whispers a question to your daughter when you leave the room.
Geto’s fixation with you definitely makes his own mental wellbeing spiral, but this man is self aware, this man knows the effect you have on him since the day you left.
So if you ever had the audacity to break his heart and see another man behind his back, it’s over for you.
You’ll be confused when you hear the doorbell ring at 11 in the night. Once you spot the familiar black Bugatti, you open the door, “Geto? The kids are at my moms so-“
“And why’s that y/n?” he cuts you off, his chilling voice suddenly calling you by your actual name rather than sweetheart, as he barges into the house and towers over you, black stands of his hair falling forward.
“You just throw your daughter away to go on dates?” He accuses you and the change from his usual gentleman demeanour unsettles you as his dark eyes burn into you.
“W- what are you talking about? I’m allowed to go on dates and take my daughter to her nans Geto! And how did you know I-“
“You knew-“ he seethes as he inches closer to your face. “You knew I’m struggling to get over you but I’ve been so nice to you and this is how you thank me?”
Some part of your subconscious knows you don’t owe him anything but the rest of you wants to give in. You gulp down your nerves but it was futile in front of a man who could easily have his way with you.
You take a deep breath before beginning, “listen Geto, I’m sorry.. I didn’t mean to hurt you, that’s the last thing I want.” Is it?
“Don’t let it happen again” he says in a voice that is so soft, contradicting his threatening words. But you know best not to take it lightly.
See that’s the thing with ex husband Geto, he lures you in with his sweetness so well, you become too scared to get on his bad side, you always want the good side.
You watch him place a bouquet of Japanese pink camelia flowers on the table, making your eyes widen. “Geto-“
“I came here to give you some flowers for valentines” he explains quietly, “all I wanted was to show you my feelings are sincere whether we’re married or not” he guilt trips you and you know you’re falling for it when he towers over you and holds your face in his large hands. You always do when it came to your beloved ex husband.
So you’re complicit when you picks you up and places you on the sofa, his large hands move to your thighs, groping and kissing them, chuckling when you gasp at his fingers fiddling with the lining of your underwear.
“I know you just needed some love sweetheart, but you don’t have to go to other men, that’s what I’m here for” he convinced you as he ties up his long black hair but his eyes are still interlocked with yours.
And that’s how you always end up getting fucked by your psycho ex husband. Legs dangling in the air as you scream while he gets all the right spots with that skilful tongue of this.
Pink camellia flowers (aka/ tsubaki) are known to express a deep romantic longing and persistent desire.
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himbocoups · 17 days
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˗ˋˏ The NDA ˎˊ˗ | 18+ Only
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SYNOPSIS: the budding romance between two movie stars and a promise backed by a stack of legal contractual papers. how much would you allow yourself to go through in order to be his?
PAIRING: actor!hjs x actor!reader (gn)
GENRE: romance, humor | suggestive
TAGS: costars to lovers, mutual pining | oral mention
WC: 2.1k
A/N: not using smut tags for this fic bc technically nothing happens. but I am still limiting it to 18+ readers. happy spring! I'm still not posting as often because I'm still working on my thesis, but thank you all for reading and enjoying my fics - ♡ nu
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As charming and alluring as he appears in online interviews and the multitude of print magazine spreads across the globe, it’s no surprise how the international sensation stuns you as he hovers his right hand underneath your chin before gently cupping it with just the pads of his middle and pointer fingers. His thumb lands on your bottom lip, slightly pushing into the velvet plush as he tilts your chin upwards. You’re unable to meet his eye, too afraid that you would either instantly combust into flames or go to jail immediately for daring to look Joshua Hong in the eye. 
“Hey. Look at me,” he murmurs. He slides his thumb off your lip and pushes the pad of the finger onto the front of your chin. “Are you afraid of me?”
He looks at you with such intent in his eyes. The spotlight that shines on the two of you only seems to be illuminating his face, so much that you can see the dust particles settling softly into the strands of his styled hair and suspended in the space between his lips and yours. 
You turn your head away from him, causing his hand to slip from its grasp. To your left, the audience composed of cast members, crew, production, and a number of Hollywood stars and agents watches as the scene continues to unfold. Continuing as you have once acted over several takes and then re-enacted several times over the length of the press tour, you look back at him with wide eyes. The expression on your face looks like a mix of confusion, hurt, and love. Your eyebrows furrow while you clench your jaw. 
“Stop smiling at me so sweetly,” you mumble. It’s loud enough to be picked up by the boom mic hanging above the both of you. 
“Smiling at you so sweetly?” he tosses the question back at you through a teasing smile. In one fluid motion, he picks up your hands from your sides and interlocks his fingers with yours. The only point of separation is the gap between your palms. “Why?” he asks while rubbing his thumbs against the fleshy part between your thumb and index fingers. 
“Because I’d be led to assume that you like me” You attempt to pull away from him, but his grasp is firm. He pulls you closer. “And I don’t like that.”
“My smile or my feelings for you?” An awfully cheesy line, but it’s overused for a reason so much that the single question causes the entire audience to gasp or hold in their breath as if hearing it for the first time in their life. 
There is a condensed amount of tension between your two characters that pushes and pulls the physicality and imaginative boundaries between their love and intimacy. You stare back at him with that stupid feeling of hope for nothing. Stuck as the character you played for months, you are starting to wonder if it is the character opposite of yours or the actor whom you like. 
“Everybody, a big round of applause,” tonight’s emcee announces into his microphone and ends the scene. 
As soon as you hear the applause and cheers, you pull away from Joshua’s grasp. For now, there is a physical space between the two of you that you would like to maintain, but the actor quickly breaks it by pulling you into a hug before passing you a bouquet of flowers from your manager. He holds your hand in his when the cameras start clicking, smiling widely into the ocean of flashing lights. You catch yourself staring at the few strands of hair that fall in front of his forehead, noticing how stiff the hair gel causes the strands to become. He doesn’t look back at you, so you smile, curving your eyes and creating apples in your cheeks as you have been taught to hide the fact that you’re deeply disappointed by the realization that you’re merely his coworker. 
But that thought doesn’t matter when he has you pressed against his hotel door later in the night, the automatic lock uncomfortably digging into your side. 
The whole world believes he goes to bed early, precisely at ten pm, after his viral “A Day in My Life” video shot in collaboration with a popular magazine channel. However, you know what his life is like past ten, how he would stand between your legs in his shower, hot water pounding against his muscular back. 
Lips swollen, chest covered in hickeys, and hair smelling like his sponsored products, you would often find yourself in his arms in bed after the shower. Legs intertwined, he would mold his lips against yours before kissing you down your chin, your neck, your collarbone, and shoulder. Finally, he would place an exhaustingly soft kiss against your temple before he wished you goodnight. You would force yourself to sleep, heart beating loudly while you tried to ignore how turned on you were even after he had his head between your thighs for the past half hour or so. He would arrive on set an hour after you did, holding a tray of coffees and clutching his script tightly under his armpit. Passing drinks to his fellow actors, he would hand you yours with a warm greeting, without any hint of what happened the previous night.
He is always willing to bend the rules whenever he can, but only if the rules aren’t set in stone by the law. He respects his partners and himself too much to actually have sex before a romantic relationship is established. On some nights he tells you that he wants to take the relationship to the next step while your ear is pressed against his chest and the tip of his chin against the top of your head. Other nights your knees are pressed against the uneven shower tiles when you take him in your throat. How he makes an effort to pay attention to and wipe away the droplets that fall from his chest onto your face guts you deeper than how you take him. And his sonorous promise about a relationship echoes in his chest and in your brain as each ticking minute passes by as it approaches the end of your movie contracts. 
The bouquet of flowers you were gifted at the event falls to your feet as you are guided to his hotel bed. The plastic wrap crinkles against the soft carpet, and stray petals cover more surface area. Joshua makes an effort to pick it up while laying you on the bed. Not breaking eye contact with you, he posits the bouquet on the nightstand in one fluid motion, with his left hand supporting the back of your head as if laying down a fragile artifact. 
He shrugs off his outer layer, the smart and classic partially lined suit that was lent to him from the designer herself, dropping it on the floor as if its value is worth less than your flowers. You feel the warmth emanating from his body as he positions himself above you, and you’re immediately engulfed by him the moment his lips reconnect with yours. 
A magnetic lure of intimacy has you whining as your head follows upward when he briefly pulls away from your lips for some air. He chuckles, a soft laugh, and the stretch of his swollen lips  imprints a smile on yours before melding and creating a whole. His knees dig and rest against your core, and your hands explore his back, tracing the curvature of his muscles to the dip before the shoulderblades. You want to be closer to him so much that your fingers grasp at his skin, only to be left with his dress shirt scrunched and balled between your fingers. 
Still, he gently bites your lower lip and tugs his head backward to allow the appendage to escape his grasp. Breathlessly, you watch him take his time to examine your face as if looking at something for the first time. You let his eyes roam between the different elements of your anatomy, connecting like stars of a constellation. You allow him to notice everything, from the creased powder under your eyes to the thin strand of saliva that escaped to your chin. 
He flattens his tongue against your chin, sending chills down your spine. And you look at him wide-eyed as a hint of mischief sparkles in his eyes while he licks away the saliva. He gives you a quick peck on the tip of your nose before he automatically shoots up from his position. 
“Stay here,” he tells you. 
“Why?” You’re confused. Either way, there isn’t really anywhere that you would want to go nor has he given you a reason to leave. 
“I have something for you,” Joshua hums while rushing over to the hotel closet. 
“A present?” Interest and curiosity cause you to rise from your position. 
“Something like that,” he replies. “Been planning it for a while.”
Half of his body is obscured by his open closet door, but you can clearly hear him unzipping and zipping different pockets and compartments of his bags. 
“Should I close my eyes?” You tease him while taking your time to unbutton your top. You watch his movements from a distance while your fingers slowly move from button to button. You have no idea what the surprise could be, but you know how you would like the night to end. 
He stands up around the same time you’re done unbuttoning your shirt. You round your shoulders and let the shirt undress you as it falls backwards and bunches around your wrists. The fabric lays against the hotel blankets and leaves your skin feeling cold. 
He stands before you with an amused look on his face. Folded in his arms is an important-looking manilla envelope. 
“Where’s your shirt?” He stupidly asks you as he takes a seat to your left. He drops the heavy envelope on a pillow before he reaches down to pick up the suit that he dropped on the ground. And he takes the time to drape it around your naked shoulders before turning to his other side to pick up the envelope. 
“Ah-” he sighs while bending the metal clasps that secure the envelope. “Do you know if our hotel provides pens?”
“Huh?” You let your confusion escape your mouth. A part of you wants to believe his surprise has to do with some sort of foreplay that he hasn’t tried before. “It’s probably in the leather room folder next to the telephone on the nightstand.”
He reaches into the envelope and pulls out a stack of papers and drops it in your hands. “Read it over. I’ll hand you a pen.”
“Is this some sort of sex act?”
You lean over to nip his ear, but he leans forward to grab the hotel folder. Instead, you find yourself nipping air. 
“I mean, it could technically lead to one. Or many?” He clicks the pen before handing it to you. “Sign when you’re ready.”
You frown while holding the pen and papers in your hand. In giant and bold letters across the top of the page are the words “NON-DISCLOSURE AGREEMENT.” His surprise he prepared so much for is an NDA. 
“An NDA? You handed me an NDA?” Your mouth is left hanging open as you stare at him in shock.
“Sexy, right?” He winks at you before his expression morphs into something solemn. “Although, I do suggest you look this over with your manager and lawyer. It wouldn’t be a fair contract if only one side benefits from constructing it. But once you sign, we’ll finally be able to be together.”
“You make it sound like we’re getting a prenup.”
“Babe, think about it. It’s like a sequel to a prenup.”
You fear that no amount of facial procedures from the best esthetician in the industry can smooth the amount of wrinkles you are getting from this conversation. Although, you are taken aback by this situation, you can’t possibly comprehend how a planned hot night alone with the actor before you can turn into this. 
Feeling flustered about signing legal documents when you thought you were finally going to fuck your co-star, you decide it’s probably best if you spent the night alone in your hotel room. You mumble something about looking the papers over while handing him his outerwear so you can properly put your shirt back on. 
“You’re leaving already?” He lightly tugs the hem of your shirt as if to ask you to stay. 
“I just remembered my manager wanted to meet me after the event.” A lie. “I’ll see you.”
“So no head?
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Copyright © 2024 Himbocoups. All rights reserved.
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mrswint3rs · 2 months
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pairings - Bodyguard! Ghost x Fem! Reader
little blurb req by ‘🌺’ anon!! idk if you wanted smut or not but
𝐂𝐰- bondage, unprotected sex, minor use of degrading language, dom/sub dynamics ❦
┏═══˗ˏˋ ✦.★⋆. ࿐࿔.˚*✦˚ੈ✧✶ ✦₊˚⊹☆ˎˊ˗═══┓
Your father was a man of few words, always has been. You had no idea what exactly he did for work, but clearly since he had to hire a bodyguard for you, it was nothing just.
You hardly even associated with him, yet your life was somehow at stake because of the people he did business with.
Now you’re watched like a hawk by this random man who has been paid to protect you. He made it very clear that he is not allowing you to go anywhere without his supervision. No going to the store or even out with friends unattended.
He follows you from room to room like a shadow.
The only privacy you were allowed was when you showered, had to go to the bathroom, or when changing clothes. Even then, he’d stand right outside the door listening just in case.
It was almost suffocating but you couldn't deny he is physically attractive. The way his muscles were visibly taut under his black apparel, and his towering height.
The mask covered his facial features. All but his eyes, notably dark.
He acted like he didn't understand the concept of personal boundaries, and it felt like he was always staring at you or standing too close. And he rarely spoke, unless you said something first.
That deep accented voice of yours never failed to weaken your stance. Even in simple conversation. And when he teased you, his words seemed like whispered promises that made your thighs clench together.
Ghost knew exactly what effect he had on you.
He could tell from your eyes and your body language that you were attracted to him and enjoyed his presence.
He enjoyed watching your reactions when he teased you or made suggestive comments. It was like a game to him. A game where he would slowly try to break you down into a pooling mess at his feet.
It didn’t take very long for you to give into your secret cravings for him. How could you resist? He was always there.
You too started playing at the game, teasing him by leaving the door opened when you showered. Or ‘accidentally’ forgetting a towel, having to call on him for help.
The cat and mouse routine went on for a while until neither of you could resist the pull anymore.
He makes the first move as you’re in your room changing, prepping for bed.
“Take it off.” he barks out sternly, expecting your full obedience without question and you give it to him. You throw off your comfy pj’s and he unfastens his belt, as always, watching you.
You’re bent over the edge of your bed, his large form overpowering you. He fastens his belt around your wrists like a leash, holding them behind your back as he enters you roughly.
“Gonna ruin ya’ tonight. Won’t be walkin’ for a few days.” he thrusts balls deep into your cunt, pressing his full weight onto you.
The bed creaks with every movement, the headboard banging against the wall. You feel every inch of his girth inside of you, his hot breath along the back of your neck. You’re completely trapped beneath him at his mercy. Exactly where you should be.
You bite into your bedsheets, trying to silence your pitiful cries but he forces your head back up with a makeshift ponytail in your hair. “Let me hear that pretty little voice while I fuck you,” he groans out, pressing the side of your face back down into the mattress. “You fit perfectly around my cock, doncha’?”
“‘s too much..” you whine.
“You’re mine to take how I want. Been practically begging f’me all week like a little slut. You’ll take what you’re given and say thank you like a good girl.”
He doesn’t stop his rutting into you, even for a second. He finishes inside, not considering pulling out. He pulls out of the sopping mess that is your hole, taking a moment to look at you all broken and fucked out.
The sight only made him hungry for more. He couldn’t resist you.
┗═══˗ˏˋ ✦.★⋆. ࿐࿔.˚*✦˚ੈ✧✶ ✦₊˚⊹☆ˎˊ˗═══┛
mlist
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phntmeii · 8 months
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♡ Dating Aemond Targaryen Headcanons:
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❝ I would not blind you. I plan to make a gift of it to my mother.❝
[SFW + No Gendered Terms]
A/N: Honestly not shocked Aemond was voted high for headcanons lmao. I will say he was a bit tougher simply because he doesn't have many lines/screentime to base him on so it might be a bit OOC!!
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⚔︎ Aemond's interest is something that would keep hidden to himself for a good while. He isn't one to want to show emotions especially ones that he could consider a weakness.
⚔︎ His interest in the beginning can be only seen through his silent watchful gaze across the hall toward you. It's piercing and intense that Aemond might not realize that it seems more threatening than affectionate honestly.
⚔︎ If you happened to find out, it's because one of his siblings found out first. Both of them CANNOT keep a secret for their LIFE and would embarrass him with (semi)good intentions.
⚔︎ If it's Aegon that found out, he found out because he recognizes such a stare from himself. He would immediately (probably drunkenly) approach you and try to wingman by asking you a slew of questions to get to know you then drop Aemond's name around the conversation.
⚔︎ "An interest in books? Eh. Not for me personally, my lady, but I can assure you that my brother cannot pull his head out of one."
⚔︎ If it's Helaena that found out, it's because Aemond told her in the hopes for advice and explicitly told her to keep it a secret. Cue her telling you the moment she next saw you casually.
⚔︎ "Aemond? Oh! He told me of how he dreams of you through the night, you know!”
⚔︎ ^ Sweet girl thought this wasn’t a big deal because she dreams vividly about people all the time.
⚔︎ Once the secret's out, he has no choice but to approach you. He keeps his head high and looks to you with the same intent stare. His voice is low as he confirms what has been said about him.
⚔︎ At the beginning, he is hesitant to initiate any affection. Due to his previous experiences with women at the hands of Aegon, he finds it difficult and becomes reclusive.
⚔︎ He'll mainly take you for walks and read beside you but keep quiet. He more so waits for you to initiate conversation and watches you.
⚔︎ He may seem annoyed or irritated but that's just his resting face. Everything you say is ingrained into his mind and whatever you express interest or like of is immediately logged for future reference.
⚔︎ Once physical contact is more accepted, he tries it more in a gentleman-like manner. Kissing the back of your hand each time you meet, offering his arm when you two walk together and more.
⚔︎ His favorite is admiring your face while his hand holds your cheek. It's almost as though he's trying to memorize each part like it was artwork.
⚔︎ He tries his best to impress you when possible. Aemond wants to prove himself to you and prove he's worthy of your affections.
⚔︎ Whether this be with his knowledge of history and philosophy, sparring, or some other skill of his, he wants to prove he is worth any of your attention.
⚔︎ Absolutely caters to you especially in public settings or events. Too overwhelmed? He’s guiding you out of the room to calm down. Someone is getting too pushy? He’s ready to defend you in a moment’s notice. Feeling ignored? His attention fully turns to you to entertain your conversations.
⚔︎ Aemond is also one to fully understand your boundaries to keep you comfortable. He would never want to push too far considering his own past regarding being pushed like that. Any requests you make of him will be fully honored by him.
⚔︎ Aemond does have quite the soft spot for you and strictly for you. Once comfortable with you, he can’t help but melt when you’re excited about something. He’d be studying his book for the day and once you come in with a newly-designed outfit, twirling around happily to show it off to him, he slowly breaks out into a warm smile and sets his book aside to give you his full loving gaze.
⚔︎ Aemond’s Main Love Languages to give are: Quality Time and Words of Affirmation.
⚔︎ Aemond enjoys having your presence around him, finding it to be calming. At dinners, he sits right beside you and defaults to looking over at you to feel comfortable. Knowing you’re by his side soothes him.
⚔︎ He’ll also try and teach you any little thing about his personal interests just because he likes to share with you. This is even better if you also know about the subject matter! He gets very excited at the prospect of someone as knowledgeable as he is!
⚔︎ Aemond likes to give you daily reminders of how much he simply adores you. In fact, each time you two are getting ready in the morning, Aemond walks up behind you, wrapping his arms around you and telling you how stunning you look.
⚔︎ Aemond will make it his internal mission to ensure you never feel unloved or unappreciative. And if you have any insecurities? He’s spending every moment reminding you that you’re precious in every sense of the word.
⚔︎ “Darling, surely you are not here sulking when you are the perfect definition of beauty itself? I feel as though *I* am the one unworthy of being in your presence with such perfection.”
⚔︎ Aemond’s Favorite Love Languages to receive are: Physical Touch and Words of Affirmation.
⚔︎ Both of these play a part in soothing his insecurities imo.
⚔︎ Obviously, while he feels losing his eye was worth the prize he claimed, it nevertheless makes him feel odd because he knows people are staring at him for it.
⚔︎ He wouldn’t wish to scare you with what his eye looks like which is why he covers it. But showing his scarred eye love and appreciation with gentle touches and kisses as well as endless praise, he’s looking up at you with sparkling puppy dog eyes.
⚔︎ “You truly believe… I am worthy of such affections? …Are you sure?”
⚔︎ While Aemond can maintain his stoicism in public settings, in private, he can’t help but want your gentle touch and complimentary words. It becomes a craving of whenever you’re in his presence.
⚔︎ This craving can cause him to unintentionally grow possessive and overprotective. He sees himself as your personal protector and he would rather die than fail to protect you in any manner.
⚔︎ Aemond may shoot threatening glares or bluntly insult other people if he feels they grow too “familiar” with you. Aegon would tease him for looming over you all the time which Aemond will insist is for your protection. (You were just walking to the privy.)
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⤷ divider credits: @cafekitsune
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holylulusworld · 8 months
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Biggest grump
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Summary: Your best friend’s friend is not as annoying as you believed.
Pairing: Mobster!Bucky x Reader
Warnings: banter, language, mentions of pegging and anal play (they play a game, okay), snowed in, enemies to lovers, fluff
<;< Part 1
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“So…how does this game work?” Bucky tries to buy himself some time. He doesn’t want to answer your questions. Especially when it comes to the girls he dated lately.
“Barnes don’t act as if you never played truth or dare before,” you slap his thigh. “Because you tried to trick me, I’ll ask you first.”
“That’s not fair,” he grumbles. Bucky looks at the glasses you placed on the coffee table. Drinking is out of the question for tonight.
“I don’t care.” You lean closer and stick your tongue out. “Fight me!”
He sighs deeply. “Fine. Whatever. I didn’t want to play this stupid game in the first place.”
You giggle at his pained expression. “Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
“When you first met Steve, did you already know you’ll become friends?”
“He was a weak and sick boy,” Bucky smiles at the memory. “But he had guts. I first saw him when he was in trouble. Three boys tried to rough him. Steve stood his ground. A damn tough boy. I knew we will get friends right away.”
“Aw, that’s so sweet.” You swoon. “I met him when he was all grown. I wish we grew up together.”
“My turn,” Bucky grins. You swallow thickly, fearing he will ask you embarrassing questions. “What's a secret you've never told anyone?”
“A secret? Hmm…” You ponder. “Oh, I know!” Bucky leans a little closer when you grip his arm. “I stole a lace panty when I was sixteen. It was red, and my mom didn’t want to buy it for me. I wanted to impress my boyfriend.”
“You naughty girl.” He grins. “Did he like it?”
You sigh and shake your head. “He broke up with me after I told him I wanted to wait a little longer. He was clumsy and I didn’t like how he groped me.”
“His loss.”
“What?” You blink a few times.
“What?” Bucky clears his throat. “I mean, if he messed up it’s his loss.”
“I enjoyed wearing it, though. I sometimes buy underwear only for myself. I love to feel sexy.” You run your fingertips up and down his arm.
Bucky swallows thickly. “Your turn,” he breathes out. “Shoot me with your best shot, doll.”
“Hmm…Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
“What's something you're glad your mum doesn't know about you?” You ask. “Tell me everything about your dirtiest secret.”
“You want the dirt, huh?” Bucky flashes you a smirk. He wrinkles his forehead. “I let a girl peg me once.”
“No!” You slap his thigh. “Really? Who was it? Was it good? Did you like it? I didn’t take you for a guy letting the girl take the lead.”
“If it’s the right girl,” he whispers lowly. His fingertips graze your cheek and instinctively lean into his touch. “I let her have control once in a while.”
“Did you like it?” You press on.
“It was…different.” He answers honestly. “Not bad or anything. But she was a little impatient and uh…it wasn’t that good.”
“I guess she didn’t do it right,” you nod to yourself. “I let a guy finger my ass while he fucked me from behind. It was hot, and I came so hard.”
“Y/N…we should talk about boundaries. No more questions about sex,” Bucky suddenly says. His pants feel a little too tight and he doesn’t want to cross a line.
“Aw, don’t be a spoilsport, Bucky,” you whine. “Your turn.”
“Truth or dare?” He asks.
“Truth.”
“Have you ever cheated on someone?”
“No. Never. If I love someone, I do it with all my heart.” You grab one of the glasses to take a large sip. “If the love is gone break up. Don’t cheat. If he doesn’t fuck you right, talk. Don’t cheat.”
“You’re a good girl too.” His eyes drop to your lips. He whispers your name as you are engrossed in watching his long lashes flutter.
“My turn,” you stop Bucky before he can ask more. “Truth or dare.”
“Truth.”
“What's the strangest dream you've had?”
“Dream…hmmm��” He closes his eyes and tries to recall the dreams he remembers. “I remember one dream. I had horns, and my skin was on fire.”
“You dreamed that you were the devil?” You ask.
“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “Steve was there too. He was wearing a suit made of cookies. And then there was this girl. She was wearing wings and looked like an angel. But she begged me to kiss her.”
You lick your lips. “Your turn.”
“Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
“What's your worst habit?”
“I fall in love with the wrong guy every time,” you dip your head to look him deep in the eyes.
“Do I need to break someone’s face?”
You laugh at his question. “No. I haven’t been with someone for a while. So, truth or dare.”
“Dare.” His reply surprises you. “Come on, challenge me, doll. Do you want me to jump from the rooftop or empty the bottle on ex?”
“No.” You scoot a little closer to Bucky. He watches you place your hand on his chest eyes widen when you whisper the words in his ear. “I want you to kiss me.”
“Doll…Y/N…I can’t. I…Stevie will kill me.” You smirk at his nervous state. Bucky wants nothing more than kiss you, but his best friend will flay him alive if he dares to put his hands on you.
“Bucky,” you whisper. Bucky gasps when you straddle his lap and cup his face. He tries to protest but you claim his lips, making a move before he can chicken out.
“Doll…” he mumbles against your lips. “Truth or dare?”
“Dare.”
“Kiss me again.”
You wrap your arms around his neck to kiss him deeply. He slips his tongue inside, swiping over your tongue. “Stevie…will kill me.”
“Who do you think made sure that we end up stuck at his cabin?”
Bucky looks at you in his lap. “Stevie…”
“The one and only. Now...do you want to see my red lace panties or do you want to play another game.”
>> Part 3
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Tags in reblog.
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bones4thecats · 2 months
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What If Their S/O Visited Them At Work?
Type of Writing: #3 - Poll Result Characters: Dire Crowley, Divus Crewel, Mozus Trein, and Ashton Vargas Name: What If Their S/O Visited Them At Work? Original Poll Link: Here
A/N: Alright, since the only thing I could find about the MC's name being is just Yuu, so I gave them a surname. It's 'Sei', which translates to 'Surname' from Japanese. That just made sense to me, I don't know why, but, whatever. Have fun reading this!
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🪶 Nobody was believing the rumor that the headmaster was walking around with someone he was claiming to be his S/O of many years, instead, they believed he was paying someone to act in that role
🪶 Yuu was one of the few that had a hunch that this rumor was, in fact, true and that the headmaster they grew to had decent boundaries with did have an S/O
🪶 When the many words from the dorm leaders died down, the Prefect looked up and noticed that the doors were slowly opening, signalling the arrival of the headmaster
🪶 Normally, he didn't observe meetings, though, after the last few incidents in regards to overblots, he needed some background information so he knew what to tell the council
🪶 Just without, y'know, the overblots and all...
🪶 The housewardens sat straight as the headmaster's cheery tone entered their ears, alongside with the light chuckles of someone else
🪶 Yuu smiled and watched as Crowley walked inside alongside his apparent S/O, and they watched as Riddle politely rose his hand in order to ask a question the other dorm heads certainly were thinking
" Headmaster, many have been saying you were, in fact, paying this person to act in place of your fictional S/O. In order to... uhm... hide your loneliness? I suppose. Is that true? "
🪶 You smiled and covered your mouth to laugh, before walking over and behind your husband, grabbing his shoulders and kissing his head, as his hat was laying on his lap
" Allow me to answer for him, Rosehearts. I am his S/O, of around {#} years now, if I'm recalling correctly. And, with that information, I do hope you inform your students in your respective dorms that I am his real S/O and not some person he paid. "
🪶 Crowley could feel the agitation at the audacity the small beings had for claiming yourself to be a weird form of prostitute, he grabbed your hand and kissed it before welcoming the main topic of the meeting in the meeting
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🐾 You knew your husband's thoughts of the students he's been teaching for years, and most of them were how annoying they were getting
🐾 But, they had seemingly been getting better as the year continued, and, due to this, you wanted to meet some of those he deemed 'far less annoying and ignorant than others', such as this magic-less human
🐾 And what time was better than Winter Break?
🐾 Wrapping your long overcoat tighter to your body, you sighed as the sound of the bell ringing entered your ears, making you sit straighter on the bench you were sat upon
🐾 Looking as the students flowed out of the doors to their respective ways home, you smiled gently as the sight of your husband's white and black hair entered your eyes
🐾 You noticed that a human was walking alongside him, they were smiling as they spoke, before looking up at you and pointing, grabbing Crewel's attention
🐾 The human ran up to you and held out a hand to you as your spouse walked in appose to their sprint
" I'm Yuu Sei! I'm gonna guess that you're Y/N Crewel! Professor's spouse, right? "
🐾 Smiling down at the young teen, you shook their hand, exchanging your name and looked up as your husband called your name before patting the prefect's head
" Yuu here came from another world, apparently, so, in order to do the 'nice thing of the year' you've got me hooked on, I have invited them to our home for Winter Break. I hope that is alright with you, my beloved. "
🐾 Nodding your head, you held your hand out to them, chuckling as the took it with such happiness, the poor thing cannot be left along for so long, right?
" Of course! They can meet our dogs, I hope you're alright with some dog hair, because the pups can get quite rambunctious at the sight of a new person. "
🐾 Crewel smiled and kissed your head, maybe this wasn't such a bad choice as he thought
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🐈‍⬛ None of his students believed that their history teacher, Mozus Trein, was married once, nonetheless married a second time!
🐈‍⬛ When it was announced by the council and Crowley that they were releasing a 'Family Day' to help out the many students who were feeling quite homesick for being away from their families for so many months
🐈‍⬛ You and his daughters decided to come by and visit him, after all, he must have been missing you guys to some capacity
🐈‍⬛ Smiling at the young girls, you pulled your coat's hood down and strolled inside the school, heading straight for the older man's office, and, at the sight of two women and an older-appearing person walking as a group, students began to whisper
🐈‍⬛ Who were you guys? Were you family members of some new first year or what?
🐈‍⬛ Tapping on the door, the sound of your husband's words stopped and his cat's squeaky-sounding meow made him excuse himself and walk to the door
🐈‍⬛ The girls hugged your arms as Trein opened the door, asking who it was and what they wanted
" Happy Family Day, Father! "
🐈‍⬛ You smiled lightly and hugged the man with his two girls, only stopping at the sound of a young male yelling out with a confused expression
" The rumors are true?! Professor, you have an S/O and two daughters?! " " Yes, Trappola. Now, sit down and be quiet as I speak to them out in the hallway. "
🐈‍⬛ The ginger-haired boy sat down, lightly rocking back and fourth as another young student held out their hand as a cat chuckled at his reaction
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🏆 Nobody, and I mean nobody expected the Ashton Vargas would become a boyfriend to anybody, nonetheless marry someone
🏆 When the news of how a new assistant to the P.E. teacher's was going to come by and was to start working with him, the many students of Night Raven College were shocked
🏆 You watched as your husband spoke to the students, saying how they were having a new teacher coming in to help out
" I heard that the teacher is your spouse, is that true, Mr. Vargas? "
🏆 Smirking, Vargas laughed, assuring the boys that the question's whole premise was true and that the new professor was, in fact, his spouse of a few years
" Y/N! You can come on out now! "
🏆 Walking out from behind the doors of the school, you stood in front of the boys in an outfit quite similar to your S/O, with a matching white shirt and a black and f/c striped jacket with long black pants and a nice pair of tennis shoes
🏆 He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and gave you a light side-hug, making the students chuckle at a young blue-haired, ginger-haired, and a young cat while one student just held the cat in their arms
🏆 Grabbing his whistle from his neck, he furrowed his eyebrows and blew air into the piece of metal and yelled at the boys to run 10 laps
🏆 You sighed and smiled, wrapping your left arm around his midsection as he gripped you tighter, the hug was sending a message to you, he understood how they were thinking
🏆 Or, at least a couple were thinking that he would allow them to gawk at you as if you were an open-grab... as if!
" My love, you don't have to be so hard on them. " " Tch. This is a part of my job, My Beauty. Besides, I've been going easy on them. They need some sort of boost in activity. "
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